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pjmmania · 28 days ago

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To Be a Viper - Part I

Content Warnings: mentions of forced drugging, mentions of murder and gore, mentions of suicide

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Your head felt like it weighed more than the rest of your body. Shaking, you brought your hand up to your forehead and groaned. Discombobulated and nauseous, you rolled onto your side and opened your eyes slowly. The daylight caused you to squint, making your head pound harder.

A man's figure stood across from you. This alarmed you, but for some reason, your body was incapable of producing a strong reaction.

You thought you heard him say, "She's coming to."

Another muffled voice coming from behind you caused you to wake up a bit more. This one was low, “I’ll let him know. He’s on a call with Namjoon I think.”

You fully opened your eyes to find a face that looked familiar and recent. A name didn’t come to you, but you knew you’d locked eyes with him the night before.

He smirked at you, confirming your recognition of him, “Rise and shine, Y/N. We got work to do.”

Then there was his voice. Now it clicked. This was the guy you were hanging out the night prior. You went to that one club with your cousins and ran into him. The name of the club escaped you, as did the memories of anything you might have done with this man. All you remembered was meeting him at the bar - everything after was blank.

You were able to sit up despite the terrible ache in your head. This action made you all the more nauseous.

It must have shown on your face. The man tilted his head to one side as if to point to something, “Bathroom is that way if you need it.”

You had endless questions. What was his name again? Who was that other guy in the room with you both? What the hell happened to have landed you here, in what appeared to be a hotel room?

Physical ailment put all of those concerns to one side for the moment being. Right now, you needed to get to the toilet, and fast. You got up and stumbled your way onto the cold tiles of the bathroom, flipping open the toilet desperately. Your knees buckled and you landed on them, the contents of your stomach emptying into the porcelain bowl. You wretched and wretched until you couldn’t breathe.

In the other room, one of the men was on the phone.

The one you recognized came into the bathroom with a toothbrush in his hand. He crouched down beside you and put the object into your hands, "Here, I brought an extra. It's new, promise."

You coughed, "Th-Thanks."

You spit a final time into the toilet and flushed it, panting. The dark-haired man helped you to your feet. Standing in front of the sink, you got a glimpse of yourself. Your eyes were puffy and dark, makeup smudged. The fact that you were still in your clothes from last night was strange. Apparently, you hadn't hooked up with this guy.

Gripping onto the corners of the counter, you looked at the man standing next to you in the mirror, "How...Wh-What happened? I-I forgot your name."

Leaning against the wall behind you with hands in his sweatpants pockets, he responded, "Taehyung. And that other guy back there, that's Jungkook. We need you ready to leave soon."

His demeanor threw you off. He was far too calm and even a little unconcerned as if this was a common occurrence.

It seemed as if you ignored him, so he left you to it. As you turned on the faucet and found some travel-size tube of toothpaste, you wracked your brain for any memory of arriving at this place. Nothing was there, and that unsettled you.

Leaving the water running, you carefully peeked around the corner of the bathroom doorway, to see what they were doing. The other one, Jungkook, was digging in a black duffle bag like he was searching for something. When his hands reappeared with a pistol, you gasped.

Suddenly your situation became clearer. These men must have drugged you, explaining why you couldn't remember getting here. Now one of them had a gun, and apparently, they were planning to take you somewhere else soon, as per Taehyung's words.

Breathing heavily out of exhaustion and panic, you slammed the door shut and locked it.

Despite the water running, you could clearly hear Taehyung huff, "Excellent job, dumbass. You just created more work for us."

Their footsteps got closer to the door. You backtracked until you ran into the glass shower door. You were so on edge that the impact of the cold glass panel on your back caused you to jump and shriek.

"Y/N," Taehyung called from the other side of the door, "Come out. We're not going to hurt you."

Your vocal cords released a high-pitched, raspy demand, "Get away from me! I-I'm calling the police!"

A chuckle rang out, "Well unfortunately for you, doll, you left your phone on the bed."

That voice was different - it had to belong to Jungkook.

A salty taste came upon your tongue. You had started crying without realizing it, "Please! Just let me g-go! I won't tell anyone!"

Taehyung's tone was annoyed, "Doesn't work like that, I'm afraid. Now open the door."

"No!" You cried, "Get away!"

Then the sound of a door opening and closing could be heard faintly.

A third male voice addressed the perpetrators after a moment of pause, "What the fuck is going on?"

"This moron took his fucking pistol out of his duffle and now she's locked herself in there." Taehyung scoffed.

"I thought she was brushing her teeth and shit, hyung." Jungkook was exasperated.

The third man put their bickering to rest, "Not the time, idiots. We're running out of time here."

Then there was a pounding on the bathroom door, "Y/N? Y/N open up."

Maybe it was just your mind playing cruel tricks on you in the midst of such disorientation, but this voice was also familiar. Not in the same sense Taehyung's was, but deeper. Eerily close to home, but also not. The pitch was that of a stranger's, and yet the cadence struck a pulse somewhere.

You shook your head, putting your cold hand on your aching forehead. At this point, this felt like a hallucination.

The man called to you again, "It's me, Y/N. Jimin."

You froze. Your breathing ceased, and you forgot all about your headache.

Now you knew this wasn't real. Still, you couldn't help but envision your old friend. Flashes of his laugh and the heartache he left behind flooded your brain. A time of your life so pure yet tarnished. What this man insisted was impossible. Park Jimin was gone. Never to be heard from again.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you were angry that such a thing would even be presented to you, "No...No you're lying."

"No, I'm not." The man's tone was stern.

You were quivering and crying, all of this fucking with your head to an unbearable degree. Still, you couldn't help but want to find out if the unfeasible was true.

"Prove it."

Though you couldn't see it, Jungkook and Taehyung rolled their eyes on the other side. In return, the third shot them a punishing scowl. He had to do what he had to do to get you to come out.

"We grew up together," He said, "Our families had dinner together every weekend. I punched Lin Hyunwoo on the playground in second grade after he made fun of your stupid sparkly shoes. My mother called you her 'peach blossom' because she never had a daughter of her own. The last time we saw each other, we talked about going to a party and-"

He didn't have time to finish before you flung open the door. Your cheeks were red and wet with tears, but your eyes were now wide and curious.

He was blonde now, and obviously looked a lot more mature, but it was him. Taehyung and Jungkook stood on either side of him, watching your befuddled reaction.

Jimin's expression of concern evolved into a soft smile, but it wasn't the same as the one you once knew.

"Hey you."

Miraculously, in spite of everything going on, you felt relief, "Jimin!"

You practically crashed into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. A little surprised by your warm response, he took a moment to hug you back. But when he did, it was tight and genuine.

You had no idea what was going on, and it still felt like a dream, but real or not, you were embracing your person. Or at least the man who used to be your person.

You began to cry again, "I-I'm so confused. What's happening? Is this real?"

"It's real," Jimin pulled away and held your upper arms, "It's real and I can explain everything to you, but you have to come with us right now."

You glanced at Taehyung and Jungkook, "But they-"

"They follow my orders," He said, "They’re not dangerous, not to you at least. Come on, we need to go.”

He took your wrist and began pulling you along. You winced at the sudden movement, still slightly nauseous. Jimin sat you down on the bed and tossed your red bottoms at you.

Everything was happening so fast, but you finally accepted that you wouldn’t be getting an explanation until you were out of this hotel. So, you went along with their instructions. You put your shoes on, smoothed out your outfit and made yourself look less hungover.

You were ready to leave when Jimin handed you your phone, “I need you to stop sharing your location with anyone, especially your family.”

Your brows cinched, “Why?”

“Because it’s important that they don’t know where you are.” Taehyung answered, slinging his duffle bag onto his shoulder. Jimin nodded in agreement.

Then you recollected something from last night, “But my cousins Aera and Eoduun. They were with me last night. They might already know I’m here.”

“That’s fine,” Jimin said, “As long as they don’t know where we go next. Now unlock your phone and do as I tell you.”

His eyes and tone were harsher with you than it ever had been when you knew him, and you didn’t like it. This Park Jimin was far less likable. He was frightening and sinister. He was the leader of men who had kidnapped you, meaning he was some type of criminal.

Weary of his intentions, you gave in to his demand. You tapped into your phone’s settings and disabled sharing your location with anyone and everyone.

Similar to Jimin himself over ten years ago, you had officially disappeared from the lives of all who knew you. After that, he confiscated your device, ensuring that you wouldn't be able to contact anyone.

Jungkook was driving this unhappy foursome. Taehyung was in the passenger seat, and you and Jimin in the next row back.

Still reeling from the effects of the drug, you were passed out again. You went under just minutes after leaving Josun Palace, simply incapable of staying awake. Your head was slumped on your right shoulder as your body worked its mechanisms to recuperate itself.

Jimin was mindful to keep his voice down, looking at your poor, exhausted body, “I never wanted it to come to this.”

Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, “It was the right move. For you, for her, for all of us. You’ve said so yourself multiple times now.”

The boss sighed and brushed some hair out of his face, “That doesn’t change how fucking horrific this feels. You guys don’t know. She’s a good person. The purest one I’ve ever known.”

Taehyung smirked and muttered, “You don’t know that.”

Jimin sneered, “Excuse me?”

“I said you don’t know that,” he repeated, “You haven’t seen this girl in over ten years, right? Well sorry to burst your bubble, but she may not be this perfect angel you remember her to be. People change. You certainly did.”

Wrong choice of words.

As he leaned forward and spread his knees apart, the leader’s voice dropped lower, “Careful. I don’t much care for your smugness right now.”

Taehyung regained some decorum, “Sorry. What I meant is that you shouldn’t underestimate her. She’s not the sixteen-year-old girl you once knew, hyung. She’s a grown woman, been living alone in Europe in all that. And she can hold her own.”

Jimin was suddenly amused, breaking out in a chuckle, "And you're making this point because...?"

"Because we'd be remiss not to keep an eye on this one. The girl is smart. I could tell just by talking to her last night that she's got her wits. If our objective is to keep her on our side, we shouldn't just treat her like some child. That's all."

"I don't say this often, but I agree with Tae," Jungkook offered, "We shouldn't forget her roots. The kind of people we are, what we do...It's in her blood as much as it is yours."

The blonde boss let his head rest back on his seat, palms on his knees. The younger men were right.

"It still feels revolting."

The car ride was fairly silent the rest of the way. The destination was Incheon International Airport, where the rest of the group would be waiting.

You awoke for the second time that morning in the airport's long-term parking lot as Jimin nudged you. Tired and anxious, you did as you were instructed by your captors. You followed them into the airport, wondering where the hell they were taking you. Fortunately for them, you had your purse on you from the night before, which contained your identification.

Not that you ended up needing it, as it turned out. They had a charter flight ready to go on a separate tarmac. This meant that you didn’t have to go through security at all. Rather, you all walked up to the aircraft on the tarmac. Taehyung and Jungkook were walking several paces ahead, as you lagged behind and Jimin remained with you.

“Do you own this plane?” You asked him.

Without turning his head to meet your eyes, he nodded, “Yes. It’s a necessary component to what we do, as you’ll soon see. Making it in this business is impossible without a reliable escape.”

"Where are we going?"

"Jeju Island. That's where the Safe House is."

Though your energy was waning again, you still had enough left to begin to resent this new character that had somehow inhabited Jimin’s body. He may have been showing surface-level care for you, but he was equally unfeeling, hardened. You wouldn’t let yourself make the mistake of trusting him, even if some twisted part of you was happy to see him.

You frowned, “And what business would that be, Jimin?”

He detected the difference in your cadence and turned to look at you, reaching the stairs to board the aircraft. Jimin looked through dark, stormy eyes at you, a devious grin forming, “I’ll tell you once we get situated. Come on, you have more people to meet.”

He extended his hand to you. Too intimidated to reject it, you slowly put your hand in his. He pulled you along up the steps.

The sight that greeted you was that of four new faces mixed with Jungkook and Taehyung’s, all lounging in plush leather seats with plenty of space between them. Undoing any nerve remaining in your body, these new guys seemed happy to see you. Disturbingly so, like you were fresh meat they had been itching to pick at.

“Gentlemen,” Jimin said, “This is Y/N. Y/N, here we have Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin. You will meet others who work for us in other respects later on, but these are my men. My team.”

“Fucking finally,” The one named Hoseok crossed one leg over the other, “Now we can get this show on the road.”

He looked like a real character, hair silver and a grin crooked.

Yoongi mocked you outright, “Looking a little pale, Y/N. Long night?”

Seokjin laughed at the comment. You stared at the floor.

Jimin spun around instantly and barked, “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough in the weeks leading up to today, hm? She is not some toy for you fucking puppies to chew on. She is one of us now."

One of them? Did that mean this kidnapping was intended to be permanent?

You crossed your arms and walked to the back row, refusing to look any of these men in their devilish eyes. Plopping down in the window seat, you focused your sights on the tarmac outside.

Jimin followed you after a few moments that he spent saying some other things to the men. You couldn't hear it, as he employed a hushed voice. When he stood in the aisle at your chosen row, he propped his elbows on the tops of the seats on either side.

He smiled at you and gestured to the open spot next to you, "This seat taken?"

You glared at him at a pause, unable to find words.

His grin faded and he leaned in, lowering his voice, "I'll leave you alone if you want. Like I said to the guys, you're one of us, not a prisoner. You're free to do and say what you want."

You folded your arms in your lap, cocking your eyebrows, "Am I free to leave then?"

Jimin chuckled, running his fingers through his hair before leaning closer to you, "Absolutely fucking not."

You shrugged, "Then it appears as though I'm a prisoner."

"If that's how you choose to see it," he sighed, "But once I tell you everything, you won't want to leave.”

"Then tell me everything."

Jimin sat beside you, "I will tell you some of it here, if you wish. However, I was planning on telling you in private. Some parts are...delicate."

Your face looked weary, but you agreed to hear whatever he felt he could divulge now.

Before beginning, Jimin asked, "First, are you comfortable? Would you like anything before we take off? A drink maybe?"

In a twisted sense, you had to chuckle at that notion. Shaking your head with a grin, "Some water and a few pills for this raging headache would be great, but I think I had my fill of alcohol last night, wouldn't you say?"

He smirked, "I supposed you did."

Your expression hardened again, "Alcohol and something else, right? What did you guys give me last night? Roofie?"

Jimin unlatched a space on the back of the seat in front of him, revealing a small cabinet for water. Handing you a bottle, his smug expression refused to waiver, "Don't go and spoil the story now, Y/N."

If you weren't afraid of getting literally shot for it, you'd punch him in the face. When you were kids, he could be cheeky with you, but now it translated as menacing.

The aircraft began to move when he called to the rest of the guys, "Who's got a painkiller?!"

Seconds later, Namjoon got up and walked to the back of the fuselage, handing his boss a small bottle of Ibuprofen. Jimin passed it along to you, letting you serve yourself the appropriate dosage.

After swigging the medication down with water, you watched the scene outside your window. The plan rounded the final corner to get on the runway. The sound of the engine upped in pitch and volume. You could feel a vibration below you as it gained extraordinary speed.

The feeling of weightlessness, when the plane lifted off the ground, created a pit in your already sensitive gut. You'd been on plenty of air travel in your life, and this was the first time you hadn't excitedly watched the ground get smaller and smaller. Rather, you wished to return to the ground and run.

Breathing in deeply, you turned your head to Jimin once more, "Alright, go ahead. Tell me."

He crossed his legs and adjusted his posture to get more relaxed, "Okay, let's see. I guess the best place to start for now is our families' backgrounds."

"Our families?"

"Yes. This business I'm in, I inherited it from my parents. And your parents did something quite similar."

"I see," your tone oozed with bitterness, "And I must ask you again. What 'business' is that, Jimin?"

As if the words meant nothing to him at all, he just went for it, "Kidnapping, stealing, torturing, extortion, making weapons illegally, killing."

Your resolve broke. How he could spew all of that out without hesitation terrified you even more. Your face showed it, "You're telling me you come from a family of criminals....a mafia?"

Jimin shook his head, "No, I'm telling you that we both come from mafia families."

Your nerves were so shot at this point that you couldn't comprehend it. The notion disgusted you, "How dare you, Park Jimin. My parents did not engage in those things. Neither did yours. They were the nicest people."

"They were nice to you and your family, yes, because they were strong allies," he said, mindful to keep his voice down, "That's why we grew up so close. Our parents worked together."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This was making you delirious, "Why are you lying like this? My parents were jewelers, Jimin. And yours were-"

You froze. You couldn't go any further, for it would only help prove Jimin's words.

He nodded, "You know it. Say it."

"Th-They were...firearm salesmen." You gulped.

“Exactly. And that’s what drew your parents to them. They wanted the security that the weaponry could offer,” Jimin explained, “In return, my parents received what they had been lacking - riches beyond measure.”

“W-What?” Your voice was in a near whisper.

Jimin sighed, “I guess I have to go back a little further. Your mother and father were engaged in competition with a rival gang, led by a man named Chun Insu. A competition that they were losing because the only edge they had over them was money. Insu had them beat when it came to fire power and they needed to catch up. So they arranged a deal with my parents, who could stand to reap in a greater income themselves. It was a match made in Heaven, really. Your family gained security, and mine extreme wealth.”

You sat there with a fixed look of perplexity. This story was so complex that it was kind of believable, which petrified you to your core.

You seemed intent on listening, so he continued, “Anyway, our parents had a strong alliance given their separate but important needs. Long story short, the alliance fell apart. I have taken control after my parents, and your Uncle Yohan has taken control after yours. Your cousins are in on it too. And the reason you are here is because both parties need crucial information from you. I needed to get to you first. The only problem was that Aera and Eoduun know what I look like and would love to get their hands on me. I had to send Taehyung to meet you and bring you back to me."

You scoffed, "You sent him to drug me?"

"Well yes, naturally," Jimin pursed his lips, "But he had to do more than drug you. In order to make it more believable to your cousins, he had to use a bit of charm on you as well."

"So you sent him to flirt with me and then drug me?"

"I did. And yes, it was a roofie."

Your mouth was agape for a moment. You felt like crying, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Jimin remained tauntingly calm, "I just told you my reasoning. I need information from you."

“What information could I possibly have that would be relevant to any of this?” You inquired earnestly, “I haven’t even been with my family for the past three years. Please, Jimin. I-I promise I don’t know anything. I don’t want any part of this.”

Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt an immense weight crushing you. This day was far too much, and it was only about halfway over.

Jimin’s gaze on you was stolid, but his heart softened. This is exactly why he never wanted this for you. Seeing you crack chipped away at the armor he’d spent years building."

You wiped your tears away, “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready to talk but I’m so fucking tired my head hurts and I don’t know how much more I can process. Can we finish this conversation later?"

When you boarded this plane you were defiant. Now you sounded so defeated, so lost.

"Of course we can," he said with a much softer measure, "We will land in about an hour. We can get a meal in you and talk some more if you feel up to it."

Then Jimin tested the waters by taking your hand in his. He expected you to reject it immediately, but you didn't. His hand was warm. You looked into his eyes and drew in a hitched breath. Those dark brown eyes weren't piercing into your soul like earlier. They were amiable and concerned. It was like you were looking at the old Jimin again, the boy who used to offer you solace whenever you needed it.

Maybe some small part of his past self was still inside of him.

You whispered, "Jimin."

His hand tightened around yours, "Hey you."

You shook your head and withdrew your hand from underneath his, "No. Don't say that to me. It makes me think about the past and I can't think anymore."

For the rest of the short plane ride, you sat in utter silence. Jimin remained at your side, occasionally glancing at you to check your mood. Each time, you were seen to be staring out at the clouds. You were snacking on some nuts and dried berries they had on board absentmindedly.

Suddenly you found yourself on Jeju Island. Exiting the plane, Jimin introduced you to their private pilot. His name was Manshik. Then you were picked up in yet another black Range Rover, driven by a guy called Doyun. All these new names were overcrowding your brain. You wondered how many people worked at Jimin's behest.

When Doyun pulled into the driveway of the Safe House, it was early in the afternoon. The weather was sunny and chilly - apt for the first of March in this corner of the world. Your legs were bare from the night before, making you feel colder when you stepped out of the car.

This was a sizable and modern home, tucked away in seclusion. You noticed cameras positioned in various places outside. You even rode through a gate with an officer stationed there, his sole purpose being to verify who was entering the property.

You set foot into the giant home behind Jimin, only to be greeted by a young woman. She looked like she could have been close to your age, perhaps a little older. Behind a set of bouncy blonde bangs, her eyes smiled at you, lips blush color. She wore a beige collared shirt with black chino pants and black flats.

"Y/N, this is Bongcha," Jimin made the introduction, "She's our leading maid. I sent her here ahead of us to get the place in order before our arrival, but she will normally travel with us. You'll meet the rest of the maids when we get back to our main residence."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss." Bongcha bowed her head to you.

The air about her was bubbly and sweet. Refreshing, given everything that this day had in store for you. You could tell that she meant no harm. In fact, it seemed as if she wouldn't hurt a fly.

Because she was so friendly towards you, you nodded and offered her a soft smile in return, "Hello."

It was the best you could do for the time being.

"Bongcha," Jimin drew her attention back to him, "Please draw Y/N a bath. She will take the guest room with the view of the sea."

She bowed to him, "Yes, Sir. Follow me, Miss. I will take you upstairs to get settled."

You decided to follow her without a question or fuss. At this point, a warm personality like hers was one you gravitated toward. You'd rather be with her than any of the men.

When you left Jimin's side, you got the chance to observe your surroundings. This house was beautiful and finely decorated with a fairly neutral color scheme, pops of deep green and steel blue here and there. Many of the textures mimicked nature, from bamboo to marble.

The second floor was no different. Gorgeous everywhere you looked. You walked behind Bongcha through a long corridor and then rounded a corner. At the very end of this next hallway was your destination, it turned out.

The pretty maid opened the door, "Here we are, Miss. I hope this arrangement is to your liking."

You looked around you. Unsurprisingly, this room was no less appealing than all the others you'd seen so far. The bedspread was neutral gray with a scattering of linen and velvet white throw pillows. The king bed sat on top of a wooden frame with an expansive headboard. This all rested on a white low-pile rug, detailed with a subtle design. The floors were also wood, polished to perfection and without a single scratch. Plants such as a banana leaf tree and monstera resided in the space as well, but none of it could top the spectacular view.

On the other side of a wide panel of floor-to-ceiling windows was the coast of the island. You could see where the land met the body of water known as the Yellow Sea. Contrary to its name, the water carried a vibrant blue hue.

You walked right up to the window. If you hadn't taken that ibuprofen earlier, the glare of the sun probably would have induced an even worse headache.

"Your bathroom is here to the right," Bongcha informed you, "Do you have a favorite essential oil, Miss?"

Her question pulled your eyes away from the view, "What?"

The main smiled at you and folded her hands delicately, "A preference for any specific essential oil? For your bath, Miss."

Mere hours earlier, you were vomiting in a bathroom in Seoul after getting roofied by mafia men. Now you were on a luxe estate on Jeju Island getting asked about essential oils. This day was a mind-fuck.

"I...I don't know. Anything that will help with stress, I suppose." You replied.

"Lavender, Miss." Bongcha bowed her head and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, you heard water running.

Slowly, you padded into the bathroom after her. She was leaning over a large white soaking tub, from which steam was rising.

"Bongcha?"

She paused her task and turned to face you, wiping her wet forearms on a spare hand towel to avoid dripping, "Yes, Miss?"

"I don't have anything to change into afterward."

Her smile widened, "Oh, that's not a problem. Mr. Park had me do some shopping for you before you arrived. Your new wardrobe is in the armoire back in the bedroom."

You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms, raising your brows in befuddlement, "You got me new clothes? You don't know my sizes."

"Mr. Park assured me of them all, even your shoe size, Miss."

You spun around and walked up to the large armoire in the corner of the bedroom, opening it up to find racks of clothing. Tops, bottoms, socks, shoes, even underwear. You hastily checked the tags on several items, and they were all correct.

With a flustered and angry huff, you went back to Bongcha.

"How would he know them?" You asked.

Bongcha didn't have an answer for that, her sweet smile faltering.

You pressed her again, "How would he know my sizes, Bongcha?"

The maid swallowed, "I don't know, Miss. Truly I do not."

You took her words as genuine. Her demeanor was honest. If anything, she seemed just as confused as you were on the matter.

After a few more minutes, the bath was ready. The young blonde woman left you alone to strip and sink in. Your clothes and pumps sat in a pile next to the tub.

The lavender oil did help. You concentrated on breathing. If you were going to keep your sanity here, you had to collect yourself. You played the events of that night and this morning in your mind, organizing them. Maybe if you could go through everything step by step, you could get more comfortable.

You repeated the eries of events several times. Oddly enough, it did help untangle your thoughts. As a consequence, you were feeling a bit more relaxed. Nothing could fully alleviate this immense stress, but your simple mental exercise took the edge off.

You washed your body and remained in your soak until the water turned lukewarm. Your fingers and toes pruned, and you were in a state of no thinking. Your gaze was relaxed, not focusing on a single thing. Your mind went blank, which was for the best.

You made a conscious decision not to break down again. If you kept letting these people and what they did get to you, you'd never be able to help yourself. Right now it was about coping. Once you could cope, you could figure out a way to remove yourself from this situation. One thing at a time.

The next thing to do was get out of the tub and dress yourself. There was a thick, white towel off to the side that you used to dry off. You wrapped the cloth under your armpits and tucked it, wiping your feet off on the mat. Then you went up to the sink and got all the old makeup off your face.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, you opened the door and took a couple steps into the bedroom before halting.

As if deliberately trying to disturb your peace, Jimin was there waiting for you. He was sitting on the chaise lounge in the corner.

"Get out." You scowled, clutching the towel tighter against your breasts.

He rose from the lounge and completely ignored your request, "How do you like the room? Did you have a nice bath?"

You rolled your eyes, "Both are lovely, yes. Now please leave me to get dressed."

The captor was smirking for some reason, "As you wish. Hope you like the clothes Bongcha picked out. I told her not to go with anything cheap."

Jimin turned on his heel and started to leave. That refueled the fire that you felt earlier with the maid when she informed you that Jimin informed her of your sizes, and he was correct on all of them.

You closed your eyes, hoping you wouldn't regret this.

"Wait."

He turned around with raised brows and another cheeky grin, "I thought you wanted me to leave.”

"Bongcha told me that you informed her of my sizes. They are all correct. How did you know my sizes? Have you been stalking me out for a while or something?"

The dirty blonde chuckled, "No, I haven't been stalking you. I stayed with you last night when you came to the hotel."

You were appalled, "What?! You fucking slept next to me?!"

He sighed and pursed his lips, taking the arrogance down a peg, "No, I didn't. I sat in a chair. I'm not some fucking creep, Y/N."

You had to laugh at that, "You kidnapped me and watched me sleep, Jimin! That's creep behavior."

Jimin became annoyed, "If you choose to see it that way, that's fine. Anyway, to answer your question, I checked the sizes on your clothing and sent them to Bongcha. It's as simple as that. Now get dressed as you planned and come downstairs. I've had the cook make you some food. You need to eat."

You were utterly bewildered that he had the nerve to be aggravated with you. You let out an audible scoff.

His back turned to you, Jimin paused in the doorway. He only turned his head halfway, not even meeting your eyes. The tone of his voice became stern, “The only reason I stayed with you was to make sure you were alright as you slept. I understand why you’re upset with me, but my motives aren’t entirely selfish. I have your best interest at heart, Y/N. Always.”

He was gone before you could respond, leaving you with pent up frustration.

As you dressed into a matching black lounge set, you concentrated on breathing again. You weren’t going to let this insanity tear you apart. Composure was key.

You then left the bedroom and retraced the steps you had taken with Bongcha to find your way to the staircase. As you descended, you heard chatter on the first floor. The maid greeted you at the bottom of the stairs, "Oh good, you're just in time. Eunji just finished your meal. Mr. Park had her make jjajangmyeon for you."

You assumed Eunji was the cook. And of course he thought to ask for jjajangmyeon for you. It was your favorite dish growing up. In Europe, your palette had expanded quite a bit, but nothing could ever beat a good bowl of jjajangmyeon.

As you followed the maid, you passed the room that appeared to be the living room. You didn’t pause to get a satisfactory look at it, but even the brief glance of the entryway told you it was massive.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the guys in there, sitting about and talking casually. You assumed Jimin was with them.

Behind Bongcha you entered a gorgeous kitchen. You could smell the meal right away and it made you salivate. At the stove stood another woman, wearing a similar outfit as the maid with a black apron overlaying. She was dishing out your food into a bowl, greeting you with a smile.

“This is Eunji,” Bongcha said, “Our cook. Mister Park sent her ahead with me. She is also the cook at the main house.”

“I’m very glad to meet you, Miss.” The cook nodded.

You nodded back, “You as well.”

She appeared to be older than Bongcha, likely in her thirties. Her hair was black, chin-length, and wavy. Her eyes and skin, however were light as ice.

Eunji took your bowl and started to take it away, presumably into a dining room. But you didn’t want to be alone anymore. If you were alone, Jimin would likely come and keep you company, and you didn’t want that at the moment.

Surprisingly, the thought of being with these two women was more appealing than being by yourself.

You spotted a stool against the giant marble kitchen island and stopped Eunji, “Wait. Um, would it be okay if I just ate it in here?”

The women both looked at you with befuddled looks on their otherwise kind faces.

Eunji tilted her head slightly to one side, “Miss, are you quite sure? Only staff eat in here.”

You looked at the maid, who was nodding her heard in concurrence.

“I’m sure,” you assured them both, “If I wouldn’t be in your way. I would just appreciate some female company, I guess.”

Not entirely a lie.

Hesitantly, Eunji brought the bowl back and placed it on the island in front of one of the stools. You sat there and began to eat as soon as you had the proper utensils.

The two staff women watched you eat for a moment, almost frozen in confusion. You groaned at the first bite of food, “Eunji, this is amazing. Thank you.”

The cook wiped her hands on her apron and laughed nervously, “Oh, please don’t thank me Miss. I’m glad you like it.”

The simple comfort of good food brought you a small degree of ease. This particular dish brought you back to a time when life was far less complicated.

The silence was getting awkward, so you killed it off, “How long have both of you worked for Jimin?”

“Five years.” Bongcha said.

“Three years.” Replied Eunji.

Your curiosity was piqued as you took another bite of your meal. After swallowing, you pressed for more information, “And do you enjoy your work?”

The women looked at each other. Then the maid smiled and nodded, “Yes, we do actually. Mister Park has always treated us well.”

“He is loyal to all who show loyalty to him,” added Eunji, “If you remain agreeable, I can assure you that no harm will come to you, Miss. Mister Park can be a very kind man.”

You reflected on the day and the moments where Jimin had been warm with you. He had shown you brief glimmers of charity while also kidnapping you. Minuscule displays of his old self while also terrifying you to your core. The cook was right - Jimin apparently could be a very kind man. But he could also be a devil. How could the latter not be true? He’d had you drugged and stolen, and was now holding captive you against your will.

You changed the topic before you got too deep in your own contemplation, “Do you both live at the main house?”

Bongcha pulled up the stool beside you and sat down. You noticed that Eunji had prepared a bowl of jjajangmyeon for both of them, so they could eat with you. The maid folded her hands on the countertop, “We do. It’s a very comfortable living situation. The house is big enough for us to have our own rooms in a separate wing. You’ll see when we return.”

“And when will that be?” You inquired.

The sweet young woman shrugged, “It is not for me to say, Miss. We will all leave when Mister Park gives the word.”

The three of you continued to eat together at the kitchen island. They asked you some questions about yourself, such as what you did for a living. Bongcha seemed especially intrigued by that. You couldn’t tell if she was genuinely interested in the art world or if she was simply indulging you, so that you could talk about something other than the circumstances.

Neither of them asked you about your previous relationship with their boss. It made you wonder if they knew the full extent of this case.

You were about to ask them more about their own lives when you heard footsteps behind you.

It was Taehyung. You noticed for the first time how tired he looked. He was in sweats, hair disheveled with stubble dotting his face. He looked at you with bagged yet still piercing eyes, “Jimin wants to see you in his office.”

You laughed, staring up at the ceiling, “Oh, so now I’m being summoned?”

“Yeah,” Bitterness oozed from his lips, “I’d get moving if I were you. It’s important.”

“If it’s so important, why did he send that one of his minions to get me?” You scoffed, blood boiling at the sight of the man who slipped that roofie into your drink last night.

Taehyung didn’t take kindly to your demeaning comment, “Because it must be addressed in privacy. Just get off your ass, will you?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes, trying to prevent yourself from blowing up in his face. Calm was key, calm was key.

Without saying another word to him or the two women in the kitchen with you, you got up and acquiesced. Taehyung led you out of the kitchen and through more of the house. It seemed that Jimin’s office was on the first floor, since you bypassed the staircase.

The room you walked into smelled of leather and whiskey. It didn’t look like the typical office. There was a moderately sized black desk with a filled crystal decanter on it, as well as a pistol and a laptop that was closed. A large cigar humidor stood in the corner of the room. There were burgundy tufted leather chairs and sofas. It looked more like a lounge than a place to get work done.

Jimin was sitting in one of the tufted chairs. He had whisky on the rocks in one hand, and your phone in the other. Before you realized it, Taehyung had left the two of you alone and closed the door.

The dirty blonde didn’t smile, but his face was still calm, “How was the food?”

You wanted to put on a display of confidence, so you went and sat in the chair positioned directly across from his, “Very satisfactory. Eunji is quite skilled.”

Jimin hummed, cracking a soft smile now, “I’m glad you think so. She’s been with us for a few years. Used to be the head chef at my favorite five-star restaurant in Tokyo.”

You played along, “And how did you manage to get her to join you? Did you drug her too?”

He chuckled without a care, “No, Y/N. If you must know, she came willingly when I asked. She was in a tough situation, and I offered her an escape.”

You could have spit.

“What did you need me for?” You sighed, crossing your arms.

“Ah,” Jimin rose from his seat slightly and tossed your phone before sitting down fully again, “You’re getting calls from your cousins and uncle.”

You almost couldn’t believe he’d just voluntarily given your phone back. You unlocked it immediately and saw a handful of texts and calls from them. They had to have been panicking, you imagined. This far into the day, they should have heard from you.

Strangely, you hadn’t really thought of them all day. You’d been so focused on trying to get yourself through each moment.

Your face faltered, lips pressing together, “Why are you letting me see this if you’re not going to let me go?”

The man brought his left ankle up to rest on his right knee, taking a sip of his amber alcohol, “You’re going to call one of them back and say that you’re fine. That you ran into a friend from Europe and got carried away in the day.”

A rustling pit formed in your gut. You didn’t know if you could hear their voices and lie.

You closed your eyes and let out a breath, “I…I don’t think I can do that.”

“You can,” Jimin enforced, “And you will. This is crucial.”

“Why? They will find out I’m missing soon enough anyway.”

The boss finished the rest of his drink and then tilted the empty glass towards you, “Precisely. They will find out. And when they do, trust me, they will know who took you. Therefore, we need to buy as much time as possible before they realize. That way, when they eventually come to their senses-”

“They won’t even know where to look,” You caught on, “Because it will have been at least a full day, enough time for me to have been taken almost anywhere in the world.”

“Aren’t you clever,” Jimin smirked, “So go on, call them.”

You hesitated. This would require every ounce of self control you had, to get on the phone and keep from bursting into tears. But you had to, for the fear of what would happen if you didn’t. There was a gun on Jimin’s desk, and even though his posture showed no imminent threat, you had no idea what to expect from him anymore.

Taking calming breaths, you decided to call Aera. You were about to put the phone up to your ear, but you didn’t want there to be any doubt in Jimin’s mind that you were cooperating, so you opted to put it on speaker.

It rang only once before your desperate cousin picked up the phone.

“Y/N?!”

Really trying to sell it, you perked up immediately and coated your tone with a chipper attitude, “Hey Aera, so sorry for missing everyone’s texts and calls.”

“It’s her!” She called to others in the background.

Eoduun’s voice came on shortly after the sound of brief commotion, “Y/N, what the fuck?! We’ve been scared shitless over here!”

“I know,” you sighed calmly, “But no need to worry. I just woke up late and hungover at that guy’s place and ran into a friend from Europe on my way out. I got caught up, I’m sorry for worrying you guys.”

Then your Uncle Yohan entered the conversation. His voice was deep and commanding, “You can’t do that to us, you hear? We need to know where you are at all times.”

You noticed Jimin adjust himself in his seat. He looked like he wanted to break something, at the mere sound of your uncle’s voice. At the same time, you took note of the sentiment behind his words. He needed to know where you were, not wanted. Needed.

In light of what Jimin told you yesterday n the plane, you heard those words differently than you would have before. It only affirmed the story that he told you - that your uncle and cousins were also mafia.

It all perplexed you, but it couldn’t be addressed right now.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” You groveled, “I’ll be home later this evening. We’re going to grab dinner and do some shopping.”

“That’s fine,” he huffed, “Just turn your location back on.”

You froze and looked at Jimin. He didn’t seem worried. Rather, he looked straight into your eyes and nodded slightly, as if he was fully confident in your response.

“Oh!” You decided to play the fool, “Did I turn it off? Sorry, it was an accident. I was really drunk last night.”

“Too drunk to operate your own cell phone correctly?” Yohan tiffed, “That’s certainly not the standard your parents set for you, girl.”

Jimin’s blood began to boil when he called you ‘girl’. You were both locked in a game of restraint - you trying not to spill your plight to your family, and him trying not to burst into a yelling rage.

In a strange turn of events, you also became annoyed at your uncle. Not for calling you ‘girl’, but for throwing your parents in your face like that. He knew their deaths were a touchy subject for you, and he used them to make you repentant.

Despite your frustration, you made every effort to come across as relenting, “I know, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll turn my location back on and see you all later tonight.”

Aera came through again, “Okay, thanks for letting us know you’re alright. Have fun with your fellow art nerd. Who is it, by the way?”

You had to think quick, “It’s Julianne. I’ve told you about her before. She’s the one who almost ran me over on her scooter in Paris.”

“Ohhh, right. Well have fun and don’t get on a scooter with her, I guess,” She half laughed, “See you later.”

You forced a giggle, “I won’t. See you later. Sorry again, guys.”

They all bid you goodbye and you hung up as soon as you could. You held back a sob.

Jimin was fuming. He practically kicked himself up from his chair and went to refill his glass. Removing the stopper from the top of the decanter, he grumbled, “I really fucking hate that man.”

You didn’t defend your uncle. You were off-put by him too at the moment. But you still didn’t understand this burning disdain that Jimin evidently felt.

He placed the crystal stopper back with a loud clank and released an exasperated sigh, his back facing you, “Thanks for doing that. You did well.”

Remaining silent, you played with the edges of your phone case, which was made of a pliable silicone material. Photos of your parents were kept to inside, sandwiched between the case and the back of your phone.

Jimin turned in your direction once more and sat on his desk casually, “I’m sorry he did that.”

You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. You didn’t want him to be right, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” He pressed, “I was watching your face the whole time. You didn’t appreciate what he said about your parents.”

“I think you’re reaching.” You fibbed.

“And I think you’re in denial because you don’t want to face the reality that everything I told you is true. Those three are mafia. And they need to know where you are because they need the same information out of you that I do. And Yohan just used your parents to get you to fall in line. And that aggravates you.”

You finally looked at him, eyes sharp, “You aggravate me!”

Jimin was amused, chuckling, “I’m sure I do. I don’t care about that. I can even understand it. Hate me all you want, but you should hate them too. Don’t forget there’s another part to the story you haven’t heard yet.”

You threw your hands up, “Then fucking tell me! Just get it over with. This is already the worst day of my life. It can’t get any worse.”

“It can, actually.” He said. Those dark eyes were sincere. He clearly wasn’t eager to tell you, and it left traces on his face of that kind boy you used to know. The one who never wanted to see you hurt.

You put up a wall, bracing your nerves for whatever storm that was about to come ashore. Your headache was gone, you had cleaned up, you ate. You were as ready as you ever would be.

“Tell me.”

The boss studied your expression. You were determined and composed. He set his glass down on the polished surface of the desk.

“Very well,” Jimin planted his feet on the floor, “Let’s go for a walk. Some fresh air might help.”

You nodded and stood up. As he walked by towards the door, you extended your phone to him, offering it up once again to his possession.

He waved it away, “That won’t be necessary. I trust you.”

You began to follow him out of the room, puzzled that he would say that. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, and already he felt like there was enough of a rapport between the two of you? Not that it was to your disadvantage to have your phone back, but it was odd that he was willing to take his chances and return it to you so quickly.

You put the device in your pocket and trailed behind him, taking note of his proud gait. Jimin knew he ran this place, and his walk reflected that.

He led you out a back door, which let out onto a nice deck complete with a pool, fire pit, outdoor dining area, and relaxation chairs. Off to the side was a long boardwalk extending all the way to the private beach. It appeared by the direction you were walking that this was the destination.

The air was crisp, a chilling breeze blowing your hair out of your face. In Jimin's case, it exposed the dark roots of his natural hair color. The smell of the sea became more apparent as you got closer to the sand. A few thin white caps could be seen among the waves, but the water was mostly calm. It's what your eyes focused on as you walked.

Jimin seemed to slow down a little to give you space to catch up. You began walking side by side and he noticed your fixation on the sea.

He said, "It reminds me of the coast in Busan."

Unenthused, you concurred, "Yes, I remember your family's vacation home is there."

"It was," Jimin stated, "Yohan burned it down."

Your head turned on a dime, brows furrowed. He looked straight ahead for a moment, jaw clenched. His eyes stirred with an old bitterness that had afflicted him for years.

Then Jimin looked at you. He saw your bewildered demeanor, how utterly lost you were. Such a soft spot he still had for you. Your sad and frightened face withered something inside of him away.

He couldn’t bear the fact that he was about to obliterate your entire world.

“I got ahead of myself,” he remarked, “Better pick up where we left off on the plane, huh?”

The pair of you finally reached the beach. The sand was cold and patted down. Walking down to the shore, you waited for Jimin to go on.

“Remember I told you our parents were allies, but the alliance eventually fell apart?” He asked you.

“Yes.”

You began a walk along the water together. For a split second, you recalled doing this with him long ago, as children. A specific image of a young and rambunctious Jimin chasing you came to mind. His high-pitched laughter echoed in your head.

It was hard to believe that boy and this man were the same person.

Jimin put his hands in his pockets and continued, "As I said, the relationship benefitted your family because they gained access to our weaponry. Well, there was a condition to the alliance that there had to be full transparency. Without it, there could be no trust. According to my father, your parents began to stow away some of our most powerful firearms. He noticed this on one of our usual visits to your house, back when we were in high school. Your parent's supply was conspicuously less than what he knew they'd been given. He had no idea where they were, but it was an alarming amount. When confronted about this, your parents tried to convince him that he was incorrect in his assessment. My father didn't take kindly to this, and neither did my mother. It was clear that they were lying."

You were soaking it in, focused on breathing deeply. The timeline made you weary. If this took place while you were in high school, it meant that it was close to when your father died.

After checking to see that you were following the story, he went on, "So, that completely eroded all trust in the relationship. My mother and father could only assume that if your parents were lying to them, they must have been planning to use that supply of firearms against them. My mother later told me that they were scared for their lives, for the lives of me and my brother. Something...something had to be done."

You began to get nervous. The pit in your stomach felt bottomless.

Jimin struggled to get the words out. This would devastate you. It would break you. But his hardened side took over, knowing that this was, in the end, for your own good.

"So they formed a plot of their own," He said as sedately as he possibly could, "In this business, sometimes one needs to think like an animal. Kill or be killed."

Your breathing became heavier as you realized where this was going. You shook your head, a lump balling up in your throat. A whisper came out as your eyes pricked with horrified tears, "No..."

Jimin stopped walking and stabilized your body by putting his hands on your shoulders, "They had your father killed."

It didn't register. Your conscience was trying to protect you from falling into irretrievable despair. You kept shaking your head, searching his much softer eyes for any sign that he could be lying to you. In a brief moment of madness, you even began to laugh, "That's ridiculous, Jimin. M-My father died of a heart attack. He wasn't murdered."

Your denial weakened his resolve to get through this. It was terrible to watch, but he had to go on, "Your father was given a high dose of a medication called digoxin. It stopped his heart. That's why we moved away so suddenly, without telling a soul."

You drew in a sharp, hitched breath as the first tears rolled down your cheeks. It couldn't be true. These were the people who felt like family to you growing up. They practically helped raise you. Now, not only were they mafia people, but they'd killed your father.

You finally let out a choked sob, letting the gravity take you down.

Jimin squeezed your shoulders, "I'm so sorry."

In a defiant whip of energy, you broke free from his touch, taking a few steps back. You were heartbroken, you were furious, "Keep going. I can tell there's more."

"Y/N-"

"Just fucking finish it!" You cried, gasping for air.

He let out a breath, before continuing, "My brother and I had no idea what was going on until we got settled at our new house in Yokohama, Japan. My father explained everything to us there. I'll never forget it. We were called into his study one night and he just said it all. It changed how I viewed him and my mother. I hated them for what they'd done to your family, what they did to my best friend. My brother and I screamed at our father, saying we'd call the police. But then he reminded us that it was to keep us safe. That we were being plotted against. He told us that we all had targets on our backs now, and that we had to prepare. He knew that your mother would have no doubt as to who was behind the murder and would seek revenge. After years of tracking us down, she finally found us. She...She killed my parents. Cut them down in their bedroom in the middle of the night. The fucking screaming and wailing I heard from my mother as she died...it will never leave me. We found their bodies strewn on their bed, cut apart. Their guts were on the floor."

Jimin's face contorted as the trauma overtook him for a second. His eyes scrunched shut, lips tightly sewn together.

You were horrified, shocked. Your tears had ceased. It was impossible to imagine your mother committing such a heinous act of evil. She was the mildest, most tender person you’d ever known. Your heart rejected it, but your conscience was too rational for your liking. If you could believe that the Park’s killed your father, then you also had to believe that your mother would take it upon herself to even the score.

And then came a question that could confirm it all.

“Jimin…” you were nearly whispering, your wind-blown hair sticking to your damp face, “How many years ago was this?”

He regained equanimity, clearing his throat, “Their killing was eight years ago.”

That was it. You knew he was being honest about the whole thing. The timeline matched up perfectly with another dark truth.

Your mother’s suicide.

She took her own life in the same time frame. It made sense now. She probably felt so guilty and sorrowful, unable to live with herself anymore. You recalled the words she wrote in her note to you, how desperate and regretful they were.

Somehow, you settled down enough to nod your head, “Go on.”

Jimin’s voice was low and curt, “After that, my brother and I took over. It wasn’t a choice. We had to step up, if we valued keeping our lives. Do nothing, and you become prey. It wasn’t over and we knew it. Once your mother was gone, both families had officially lost their leadership. Not even a year later, my brother was killed by your cousin Aera.”

You felt like you wanted to vomit, “Why would she do that? It’s not like you and your brother killed my mother.”

He shrugged, “This is just how the game works. You must eliminate your opponent or they will eliminate you. At that point, it was clear that neither side could peacefully co-exist with the other. Aera had the chance to kill him, so she did. I was on my own now, the last of my family name. But with my brother’s death, a white hot rage was ignited inside me that has been there ever since. I made it my mission to finish them all. They won’t get to destroy me, I fucking swear it.”

Every feature in his face told of a burning fire in his soul. It ran so deep in his veins, you could tell. A ferocity, an ire so large and unyielding. Jimin had always been a goal-oriented person, maybe even a perfectionist. Now his goal was to end your family, which begged another question.

“Then why spare me?” You asked.

His face softened, and in a surprising shift, he cupped your cheeks in his hands, “Because you are not them.”

His hands were warm and you could smell the whiskey he’d consumed. You were mesmerized by how he could go from fuming to placating on the turn of a dime.

“Because to this day, you are still a good person,” Jimin studied your face as if he needed to make sure you got the message, “And because I could never hurt you, Y/N. You’re the only thing in my life that has ever been innocent. The only person in this whole mess that doesn’t have blood on their hands. But there are other reasons.”

He dropped his hands back down to his sides and urged you to continue walking with him along the secluded beach. The tone he was using remained gentle, “As I have already told you, there is information that both sides need from you. There’s a bit more to it than that, however. If you went home, Yohan and your cousins would pry it out of you instead. And if you gave it to them, there would be two possible outcomes. Either you’d have to join their side and become our enemy, or they would kill you out of a lack of trust in you. So you see, Y/N, you are in this now, no matter what. I suppose the only choice you have is whose side you’d like to be on, but I’m the only one you can count on to protect you.”

You recalled the quick phone call with your family. The harsh tone Uncle Yohan used with you, the intention they had to know your whereabouts at all times. On a different note, you told them you were fine, and that you would reshare your location with them. They’d inevitably learn that you were lying to them. Jimin was right - they wouldn’t trust you anymore.

But would your own flesh and blood really kill you over that?

There was a rock wall a short distance in front of both of you, signaling that you’d reached the end of the private beach. Instead of turning around and going the other way when you reached it, the mafia man leaned his back against it.

In a similar way, you’d reached the end of the story. You joined him in resting against the rocks.

“So this is my life now,” Your gaze was directed back at the house, “There’s no way out.”

It was finally hitting you, and it twisted your old friend’s insides. Like he said, you were in this now, whether you liked it or not. The knowledge alone of what had taken place ensured it. You knew too much for either party to allow you to go about your normal life.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I fought this for years. If I could give you your old life back I would. But I can’t risk it. If you left and something bad happened to you, I’d never be able to live with myself.”

You looked back to Jimin with tears glazing your eyes once more. You hated him for kidnapping you, yet you couldn’t ignore that fact that he told you the truth, and your family didn’t. It made the choice painfully clear.

A primal instinct in you made survival the top priority. Like your parents had to all those years ago, you were about to draw a truce, an alliance.

The words tasted like a bitter medicine coming off your tongue.

“I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

#jimin x reader #angst #bts #fanfic #jimin #park jimin #romance #bts fanfic #jimin smut #bts fic #mafia au #bts smut #namjoon #jungkook #jhope #kim seokjin #yoongi #taehyung

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beanzwrites · 7 months ago

Text

│Chapter One│

│Human! Alastor x Reader│

Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: Alastor offers (Y/n) a job, and though they are hesitant, they accept.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, mentions of religion, and gore. Please read at your own risk.

〣Previous Part 〣

═══════════════════════════

"Alastor. Charmed to meet you! I must say, this is an awful lot of stuff you have here. Mind if I ask what you are doing?" The man speaks with glee.

(Y/n) notes a shine in his eyes they couldn't quite decipher, and a feeling of uncertainty washes over them. Very few people have shown interest towards them willingly, as the locals have made sure to blacklist them due to their unorthodox behavior, and (Y/n) mentally barricades themself for where this interaction will lead to. Surely, it won't end well.

"Just working on an assignment," (Y/n) replies, cautiously watching as the man permits himself to sit at the table.

"One for learning then! What does one such as yourself want to be?" Alastor hums, looking over the covered surface with curiosity.

"I'm currently enrolled for journalism. Nothing too grand..."

"I see, I see. Do tell about this fascination you have with the Bayou Killer then? Surely, the college doesn't speak of such things in a mere literacy class," Alastor casually remarks as he takes up one of the cut-out articles that (Y/n) made notes on in his hand, "My, what interesting theories you have! Do you really think this murderer has a vendetta against ill-willed men?"

"That's none of your concern," (Y/n) snaps as they tear their work away from the stranger's hold. The man's smile twitches slightly, his stare intensifying on them for a moment. (Y/n) would've been intimated if it weren't for the immediate regret they felt pull at their heart. Alastor's arms fall into his lap, and the grin he wore before falls as he leans back. Were they truly so standoffish as Joanne claims?

"I apologize..." (Y/n) sighs out, "That was rude of me, and though I cannot excuse my terrible behavior, it's been an off day for me. Please pardon my actions."

"That's quite alright, my dear. I've had a few days in the ditch myself, but my mother always told me that if you want something to happen, act as if you already have it," Alastor reflects with the wiggle of his finger. "Nothing a little music can't help either! Instead of working one's finger to the bone, why don't you come dance with me?"

"That's very kind of you, but you wouldn't want to dance with me."

"Nonsense! If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have asked."

"If you want to go home with a broken toe, then by all means."

"How farcical of you," Alastor laughs, "I'd like to see you try!"

Alastor's temperament returns back to a mirthful one such as before, an ever-growing smile etched on his lips and waggish gleam casting from his eyes. His slim fingers tap against the glass he brought with him from the bar, sipping from the alcoholic beverage periodically as his gaze drifts over to the bustling scene of the dancefloor. (Y/n) watches too, as pretty girls with short furling dresses and babydoll curls gather with their friends to dance with boys who bought them one to many drinks. The laughter that bounces throughout the building suddenly becomes too much for (Y/n), and though Alastor sat just beside them, a staggering loneliness weighs heavy on them.

"Please don't let me keep you," (Y/n) mutters, returning their focus back on the papers laid out in front of them. Not like they had the motivation to work now, but it was the only thing that would keep their mind from wandering too far. Scribbling away once more, (Y/n) couldn't help but to be curious of a soft creaking coming closer to their side, and peek over to see Alastor's watchful regard reading over their writing. "What are you doing?"

"Mere curiosity is all, sweet. You need it in my line of work, but I suppose you would understand where I'm coming from, wouldn't you?"

"It's not my job to be curious, I just simply am."

"Is that so?" Alastor asks with a raise of his brow, "I would've assumed a clever woman such as yourself would have a high standing occupation to go with her wit."

"And that would be a first for me being called clever instead of imprudent," (Y/n) laughs, "Sadly, your assumption is mistaken. I guess people just don't see anything else besides my gender. I can't be smart like a man nor curious like a man can. How lucky for you."

"I could care less," Alastor answers, "All that matters is that I see potential, a potential I can guide."

"What could I possibly give you that won't bite you in retaliation?"

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" He grins somewhat diabolically, "What could society possibly say about you that would bring down the best radio host in city? Trust me, you aren't the only one who's name escapes disquieting tongues. From one interesting person to another, I persist that we join forces. Come work with me at that radio station."

"You come off awfully fast. I don't even know you!"

"You can't race time, but you can be quick with it! You need a job, do you not?"

"I'll think about it," (Y/n) remarks, "I'm still in school after all. I will have to see when and if my schedule permits it. You cannot control time either, you know?"

"I understand completely, my dear! Take all the time you need. My radio isn't going anywhere if I can help it!"

"There you are!" The familiar sound of (Y/n)'s mother calls out over the live music. The fringes of their mother's dress shine under the fluorescents like gold as she walks over to the table, an ecstatic red painted smile expressing how she felt. She looked absolutely stunning, (Y/n) thought. Her aging has always been graceful, like that of fine silk, and a small sense of pride fills them as they think back on Mimzy's praise. (Y/n) never saw themself as beautiful, always opting to hide away from attention as much as they could, but the similarities they had with their mother was something they always liked. "I was worried that you didn't show up."

"I would never disobey you, Ma." (Y/n) comments as their mother sits across from Alastor.

"I see you've made a friend!" Their mom's eyes twinkle as her attentiveness casts over to the man, "I'm Lorraine, (Y/n)'s mother. Pleasure to meet you!"

"The pleasure is all mine!" Alastor greets, "I must say, what an excellent performance you put on earlier! I suppose talent runs in the family?"

(Y/n)'s mother surveys him quizzically, pursing her lips in thought, before her eyes brighten.

"Did (Y/n) let you read her writings? Marvelous, isn't it? I don't know where she got her smarts from, but it surely wasn't me! I have to say though, she normally doesn't get along quick with strangers. What did you do to be so special?"

(Y/n)'s cheeks heat slightly as their mother peeks at them, a smirk on her face. They quickly collect their papers with a pout, glaring from the eulogize words their mom practically sang. "Don't call yourself dumb, Ma. You are anything but," (Y/n) grumbles, "The only reason Mister Alastor here read anything is because he allowed himself to without permission."

"You wound me!" Alastor cries, clasping his suit where his heart should be, "Your work merely fascinates me is all. I offered them a job, you know?"

"Really?" Lorraine exclaims with a gasp, "Oh, (Y/n)! That's wonderful! What will she be doing?"

"Helping me write manuscripts for my broadcast. If she says yes, that is."

"You must say yes, sweetheart! This is a miracle to you from God!" (Y/n)'s mother pleads as she take her child's hands in hers. "It may not be exactly what you want, but you've been given a chance."

"I've been called many things in my life, but God is a first." Alastor bombinates with a tilt of his head.

"Oh! My apologize, Mister Alastor!" their mom remarks, "Thank you for seeing good in my daughter!"

"Why do I feel like I don't have a choice here?" (Y/n) mutters, watching the two adults go back and forth in chatter. Their mother, charismatic as ever, goes off on a tangent about (Y/n)'s greatest strengths that could be useful in the workplace. Her face beams with absolute gratitude and support; it makes (Y/n) feel off about their previous cumbersome comments. Alastor nods along with their mother's insistent information, his head leaning casually against his closed fist.

A sense of mystery surrounds this man, (Y/n) notes cautiously. Though his demeaner was nothing short of friendly, his eyes held unknown intent. The edge of his smile quirks slightly as he continues listening to their mother, but the tapping of his foot shows a sense of urgency. (Y/n) continues observing the stranger, even when his eyes connect with theirs.

All their life, no one besides their mother showed such fervent interest in their activities. On many occasions, they were told that their insistence on bountiful knowledge would only lead them to be fruitless. No one in this city would've told this man good things about their progressive exertion, and it only made (Y/n) want to build up their walls even higher. Their mother wasn't oblivious to people's intentions and wickedness, however. She's had her fair share of snakes, and she knows when to spot one, even with her honey-like spirit. It caused a sense of unsureness within (Y/n)'s own perception; were the things that they heeded true, or was there an underlining of their insecurities seeping through? If their mother didn't raise any alarm of what she thought of Alastor, why should they?

"Can I help you with something?" Alastor calmly asks as his stare bores into (Y/n)'s.

"I was just wondering..." (Y/n) declares, "When would you like me to start?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Y/n) vigorously taps their pencil against the desk, eyes glued to the hands ticking by on the clock above the professor's head. Time surely was testing (Y/n)'s patience today, as their history teacher had brought her lecture to a closing a few minutes ago, and opted the students to work on anything that needed to get done before it was officially time to leave. (Y/n), diligent as ever, made sure to be on top of their class assignments. There was really no reason for them to stay in class; however, the anxiety that bubbled underneath their skin prompted them to linger a little longer.

Very few students remain in the room, most taking the free time as a way of escape from their responsibilities. Though some moil over their own homework in silence, others gathered together leisurely in gossip. The boisterous laughter buzzed uncomfortably in (Y/n)'s ears like that of an unreachable itch, but the loudness of their own head distracted them more so.

With persistent persuasion from their mother after the encounter with Alastor, (Y/n) requested to start at the station the beginning of the upcoming week. The weekend went by before they could even process what they had accepted, and now that the afternoon of their first shift has presented itself in a cloudy manner, (Y/n)'s doubt sprouted in a messy briar of potency. But, the distraction of their own loathing couldn't even be dealt with in peace.

A sharp pain warms the back of (Y/n)'s head with great vehemence, as a strand of their hair is tugged on in an arbitrary manner. The audible hiss that escapes through their teeth causes an eruption of cackles behind them. (Y/n) swiftly turns to the obnoxious noise, icy vexation carrying their stare. Donald Raslo, a boy with slick auburn locks and a smile that would gain any clueless woman's trust, eyes (Y/n) with a look they could only describe as vile. His teeth tug at his bottom lip mischievously, hazel orbs casting over their body. An involuntary shutter of disgust travels down their spine as their fellow classmate reaches over to grab at their hair again.

"Don't touch me," (Y/n) growls in absolute rancor.

"I'm surprised you haven't just shaved it all off yet," Donald simply replies with a maniacal grin. "You know, since you want to be a man so bad."

"You are pathetic," (Y/n) responds coolly as they turn back in their seat to quickly gather their things. Another agonizing pull forces their head back as Donald watches from behind his thin-framed glasses.

"It's all just fun and games!" Donald chuckles, as if his insults were anything but cruel, "You get defensive so quickly. Relax a little, doll."

"What do you want?" (Y/n) bluntly asks, jerking the strand away that Donald curled with his finger.

"I was wondering if you would go to the dance with me. I've wanted to ask for a while now."

A scowl morphs onto (Y/n)'s face, and they rise from their sit. Anger boils throughout their body, their nails involuntarily digging at their palms. Without another word to the boy, (Y/n) excuses themself to their teacher, and flounces out of the room. The heels on their feet become unbearably heavy as they stalk throughout the halls, visibly shaking as the distant feeling of Donald's hand through their hair burns at their scalp. (Y/n) wanted to scrub their head raw as their discomfort taunts them.

The world around them spins, and tears catch at the edge of their eyes. Deep huffs of air exhale from (Y/n) as they try to calm down. They despised themself for letting such childish behavior bring them into such a vulnerable state, but the tightness in their chest was excruciating.

Sometimes, they wished that they weren't so different.

The smell of freshly bloomed marigolds ground (Y/n) back to reality as they push open an exit door of the school. The sky basks in a slate blue, caressing the earth in a rare coolness of spring. The wetness on their cheeks startles them; they hadn't realized they were crying. Wiping their cheeks with the sleeve of their overcoat, they settle themself on the pavement steps gliding down into town. They stare blankly ahead, a fixed frown on their face.

(Y/n) never let the bullying affect them too much, convincing themself that the others were too callow for their own good. They taught themself at a very young age to stifle their insecurities, and eventually, people would just leave you alone. (Y/n) isn't an emotionless robot, however. As hardened as they try to appear, wounds that are consistently probed at never truly heal.

"(Y/n)?"Joanne, small and quiet in tone, carefully settles herself down by them, sun hat in her petite white-gloved hands. Her eyebrows arch together in worry and a deep frown sits on her usually cheerful face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," (Y/n) remarks as their eyes remain ahead. They subtly wipe at their cheeks again, letting out a deep sigh. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to apologize, for what I said to you before. It was very unbecoming of me. I'm sorry."

"Water under the bridge, Ann..."

"Good," Joanne says after a moment, "I couldn't live with my best friend being upset with me."

"I'm not petty by any means. The most I would've done is never talk to you again," (Y/n) snorts.

"You call that not being petty?" Joanne laughs, "You and I have different morals on what that looks like then! Seriously though, are we alright?"

"We will be, (Y/n) replies, "There's still a lot I have to think on."

"I understand... I heard that Donald asked you to the dance. You rejected him."

"I'm guessing he told you that. I'm still not accepting his offer, if that is why you are truly out here."

"I won't pressure you into dating someone you don't like. I know my fair share in that," Joanne reflects as she pinches at the fabric of her skirt delicately, "Will you at least think about going still? Even if you go alone, I'll be happy that you're there."

"You know I don't do good at socializing," (Y/n) answers, "It's best if I just stick to myself."

"Could I maybe convince you over coffee? The cafe should still be open."

"I won't be able to today. I have plans already," (Y/n) acknowledges as they stand. Casting their gaze over to the girl, a smirk cracks onto their solemn expression. "I might take you up on the offer at a later date though. Our last get-together ended kind of sour, after all."

"Sure, but why the sudden leave?" Joanne questions as she stands herself.

"I got a job."

"Oh, (Y/n)! That's wonderful!" Joanne exclaims as she races to hug her friend. "Mind if I ask where?"

"A local radio station," (Y/n) simply remarks, rigidly patting Joanne on the back. Their friend pulls away soon after, hands firmly holding their shoulders and a big grin on her face.

"How long have been working there? Is that why you haven't been around?"

"Not exactly... I've been helping my Mom with her new job after my classes. That's where I met my boss actually; I start today."

"You'll have to tell me all of the details later! Promise you will!"

"I promise... Can you let me go now?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Wheels squeal to life as the bus (Y/n) took to the far edge of town starts up again. The ground beneath them rumbles as the trolley continues back to civilization, and (Y/n) begins to venture across the street where the treeline of the marsh begins.

A dirt road trails off into the forest, a black tin mailbox posted alongside it. Glancing at the scrapped piece of paper in their hands, (Y/n) read over the address Alastor hastily wrote down for them a few days before, and confirm this was the driveway to the radio station.

Leaves, thick like smoke, hover over (Y/n) in shadowed agglomerations, and sweat begins to bead across their forehead as the coolness of the day begins to heat up once more. The muggy atmosphere felt almost suffocating, but they continued onwards with tenacious intent. Though anxiety still roared within their heart in fast palpitations, they'd be damned to show up late.

The forest rang with muffled silence, the chirping of crickets seeming to echo but a distance. (Y/n) follows along the wooden fence that barricaded the road from the woodland's depths, and soon enough, a scrupulous house and rustic barn are revealed as the narrow path opens up into a field.

As (Y/n) walks up to the porch, confusion entwines in their thoughts as they quickly notice how vacant this station seemed to be. They knock on the screen door and wait a few moments with furrowed brows.

Where was everybody?

"There you are, dear!" The charismatic voice of Alastor discloses his presence, his never-changing smile lining his pearly whites with thin lines. "I hope your travels gave you no trouble."

"Your station is a long ways from the city. I almost thought I got off at the wrong place. Where are the others?" (Y/n) asks curiously as they walk down to meet him.

"The others?" Alastor questions.

"Surely you don't do everything yourself? Where are your other employees?"

"I don't need a whole group to do tasks I'm perfectly capable of doing myself," Alastor comments as he leads (Y/n) towards the barn with his hand on their upper back. "I will say though, I'm ecstatic to see how you work. I sure do hope you do not disappoint me."

"Me either..." (Y/n) mutters, malaise injecting itself once again into their nerves.

As they enter, (Y/n) notices rather quickly that this isn't a typical barn house, but instead, it has been renovated in Alastor's image. The area was spacious and quaint, organized in a way that aligned with Alastor's schedule. Sound panels lined the wall, a table adjacent to them equipped with a microphone and headphones. Paper cabinets were stationed in the far corner and a cork board pinned with different notes and articles hung above them. A lounge area was arranged near the center, couches patterned with red and black circling a low rising coffee table. Along with the dim bulb lanterns that dropped from the ceiling, the atmosphere was quite cozy.

"This isn't what I was expecting," (Y/n) honestly reports, watching as Alastor casually sits on one of the sofas. "I was imagining a more... Claustrophobic environment to say the least."

"Oh, Heaven's no. I need my space to work," Alastor replies with a soft scoff. (Y/n) felt somewhat small compared to Alastor, his confidence burning like a rapid flame to wind. His knowledge on the world, though ostensibly coming off as arrogant at times, seemed to be too far-reached for the likes of (Y/n). However, a small spark of aspiration lit their need to learn, and a smaller part of them also hoped that Alastor would be patient in his teachings. Yet, (Y/n) also couldn't help but to remain cautious of this man's intentions. His ambitions towards them still remain unclear, and that caused an uncomfortable grip of fear on their heart.

"I'm still not fully sure on why you were insistent that I work for you. What can I do that someone else can't? You said it yourself you can manage perfectly fine on your own. I'm just curious on why," (Y/n) says, hesitantly walking further inside with their bag strap in a deathly grip.

"I've told you before," Alastor remarks in a deep timbered hum, his eye blown out and unwavering as he stares at them. "I want to experiment with your mind. See your ticks and how it responds to certain circumstances. I did my research more than you realize, sweet."

"You purposely sought me out because of gossip? You do realize you are feeding into a media man's stereotype, yes?"

"I never said I believed it! It is my job and passion, however, to create my own hypotheses. If it makes you feel any better, I do find that brain of yours quite fascinating so far."

"I don't really know what to say to that..."

"Let's make a deal then, shall we?" Alastor compels, "I'll let you cover any topic your heart desires while you work under me, and with the condition that you can leave at any time, I get to observe and test you in any way I please."

"And what makes you think I won't walk out of here right now? How can I guarantee you won't use anything against me?" (Y/n) tests with a grimace, hating the slight amusement they found in this position. They took pride in the work they do, knowing that every advantage they can access to achieve the truth should never be taken for granted. On the other hand, they despised needless societal gossip. Being on the receiving end of undeserved hate, they fully understand the need for veracity. Though, they don't fully commend Alastor at this point, the opportunity to disassemble the lies built in New Orleans overweighed any possible hesitations.

"You can't guarantee anything and I won't say if I will or if I won't. I know you won't walk away though," Alastor chuckles, "You are just like me; you won't turn down the possibility of destroying another."

"Is that so?" (Y/n) hisses out, a tempestuous glare keeping up with the puckish one their new boss held with them. "What do we start on first then?"

"Sit, dear." Alastor's smile widens as he gestures to the other couch, "We have much to discuss."

═══════════════════════════

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netherfeildren · 2 years ago

Text

FEAR OF GOD : Chapter V : Love humiliates you

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Consider the moment before you go forward.

Content Warnings: HEAVY !! angst!; Joel is mean in this, like forreal; PTSD; gore

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Reminder that this does have a HEA, I would literally never write a story without one. I promise. The events of this chapter are what spawned this entire story. Enjoy.

Art is Leda by Marc Burckhardt

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER V: Love humiliates you

I was always ashamed to take.

So I gave. It was not a virtue. It

was a disguise.

-Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 4; 1944-1947

You reach for a glass as Ellie wrenches the back door open. The look on her face – set to kill. Another person needing something from Joel that he just isn’t capable of giving. Perhaps you’re wrong, to capitulate to his shortcomings, accept the things he can’t or refuses to part with. But in a world like this one, now, where merely staying alive is made so much more painful, so much more of a fight, you feel you have to give him this. If nothing else, understanding. It’s what you would want for yourself. And after everything that’s just happened, you know you won’t let her hurt him more than he already has been tonight. After you’d felt his fear, alive and sentient, brush up against you, overwhelm him. No matter what. You feel the resolve harden within you.

“Ellie.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“I don’t think now’s a good time. He–”

“Fuck that,” she spits. “You know he beat the shit out of Seth the other night? I don’t need him defending me. I can handle those types of things myself, and you can’t protect him from me forever.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do at all,” you say severely. “Joel doesn’t need me protecting him. And he’d hate hearing you say that. But tonight –”

She pauses to really look at you, takes in the scrapes on your face, the harried look in your eyes, “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“The kid they found – it was a play – they attacked us out there.”

“What? What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

“I can’t let you do this to him tonight.”

“I’m asking about you.”

“I’m fine. It was nothing.” A terrible lie. “But he– he needs some time…He –”

And then from the shadow of the stairs: “What’re you doin’?” Your heart stops.

Ellie squares her shoulders, she looks a little maniacal, and you have the hysterical urge to laugh.“I came to–”

“Not you–” he holds up a hand towards her. The look he levels at you, you feel afraid in that instant. On the precipice of something very bad. Very frightening. “Joel–” you whisper.

“What d’you think you’re doin’?” You’re not his little bird right now. His face is cast in an angry set he’s never turned towards you before.

“I– I’m…” you feel out of breath, “I just–” You glance back and forth between the two of them. To Ellie for help – and you think you see the same fear for yourself in her own eyes, the realization that something is very wrong.

“What’re you tryin’ to do? You… you what? You think that what goes on between Ellie and myself’s your business as well? How many times do I gotta tell you that whatever goes on between us is not your concern? Whatever issues we have are family issues.” And you flinch as if he’d struck you a blow, fist closed, teeth bared. Nothing worse could’ve been said. You’re jarred into taking a step away from him, and you see his countenance shift, his gaze waver; fear flashing in those warm hazel eyes – now frigid – that you love so much. Perhaps fear of his own self. You clutch the back of the chair to keep upright.

This is the moment of no return for him.

“Y– you think w– what… That just ‘cause we fuck on occasion–” the words like a razor he struggles to spit out.

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

Ellie’s voice, warning and sharp, “Joel–”

You watch him gather his resolution around himself, a wall barricading you from him – he goes in for the kill, “...that just ‘cause we fuck on occasion you’ve got some sort of right to come in here and stick your nose in matters that got nothin’ to do with you?” I was already here, you want to scream, I’ve been here all this time – but the words don’t come.

He looks away as if the very sight of you burns him. His jaw clenched tight, fists curled into knots.

“You need to leave,” he says flatly.

And you nod a shaky jerk. A short breath of a laugh escapes, “Fuck on occasion…” you whisper, almost incredulous, hysterical. Or maybe questioning. Perhaps you should question all you’ve made this into in your head up until now.

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

You look away too, your eyes filled with tears you’d die before spilling in front of them. And you think that nothing has ever, ever hurt as much as this does right here. A sudden blinding flash of Beth in your mind’s eye, torn apart – decimated, a sea of blood as endless and dark as the night sky. A pain, sharp, piercing – as if a bolt of fire had shot straight through the soft of your belly. You wrap an arm around yourself. Nausea sits heavy on your tongue, you could vomit right now.

“You’re right …” your brows hitch high, like you’re surprised to hear yourself say so. “I– I’m s–sorry.” It’s a cracked whisper. You wring your hands together painfully – as if you could break your own bones, distract yourself with a different kind of hurt. You remember they’d ripped her arms from her body first – her screams so guttural. The worst sound you’d ever heard. Too much, too much had happened tonight. Flesh tearing from flesh. And then the rest of her, bit by bit as you watched helpless and useless from above. Tucked away quietly in the tree branches. Her hair, her skin, her bones. Your sister. It replays in your mind like some sick, horrifying montage you’ll never be able to forget.

The moment of no return has passed.

Silently, you make your way upstairs, still bare and dripping him beneath his shirt. Everything is so quiet, and if the end of the world had taught you anything, it was that calamity is never as loud as you assume it will be. You’d always known not to push. Not to pry. To let him be, and exist around him as he saw fit. As he needed you to. And you understood, you understood that it really was what he desperately needed, that he was sensitive, easily hurt, easily scared, despite what he wanted the world to think. That some people needed time and patience to come to terms with their own feelings – how he felt safest. And you were good at pretending you were okay with all that. You could tell yourself you didn’t need anything but what he could give you. For a time. But you’d forgotten, just then – seeing Ellie barge in on a warpath, with only Joel’s hurt in mind, the terror and the violence of the night, and his desperate confession ringing in your ears – you’d forgotten. There’d been nothing in you but a savage need to protect him as he’d protected you earlier. To step between the two of them and shield him from her wrath with your physical body if need be. He’d told you he loved you, and you knew it’d break him after everything else tonight.

You find your jeans blindly. Pulling them on and exchanging his shirt for yours, folding it carefully over the end of the messy bed, still damp from your fucking. A site of catastrophe.

There’s a rushing sound running through your brain. In your quiet, harried haste you forget your bra and underwear, hook your fingers into the backs of your shoes. Down the stairs – quiet, quiet.

And then you’re out. Gone. The way he wanted you. You can’t even look back into the kitchen before fleeing. You feel like a thief. Like you’ve stolen something integral to him with his confession. There is a sweet twisted sort of vindication in the feeling for throughout this painful, desperate, unavoidable thing between the two of you, you’d sometimes wondered if you were never anything more than an easy, desirable, nuisance to him. Yes, he wanted you. To fuck. To find comfort, softness in you. Love? Sometimes, you thought, perhaps. Now, you knew.

The ground is frigid and hard and you left your socks and your jacket behind, and you can feel him leaking out coldly into the rough seam of your jeans. The tears finally fall.

How could he expect you to turn away from the one thing you’ve wanted from him more than anything else? And now that you have it, it is a devastating victory for how alone it makes you feel.

Joel listens to your quick, quiet shuffling as you gather your things upstairs.

You're right. I’m sorry. Nothing you could have said in that moment, cursing him, spitting on him, railing against him, telling him he’s the lowest piece of shit to ever exist, could have made him feel smaller than your quiet acquiescence had. Nothing he could have said could have been worse either. Much less than what he deserves.

His skin flushes hot and cold, vacillating between numbness and panic, and already, he feels a desperate need to go after you. To not let you out of his sight. To run upstairs and get on his knees, beg you to forget the past five minutes. Hell, the past half hour, when he’d pushed so coldly away from you upstairs. To forget how fucking stupid and wrong and broken he is. To beg you to read everything he can’t say in his eyes and touch. To tell him how to go forward. To believe him, to believe him when he says he loves you, but doesn’t know how to not be scared anymore.

That he’d reduced you to an occasional fuck, as if the past few months, intertwined with you, hadn’t saved his life – his heart – in a way he didn’t know needed saving.

There’d been times where he’d look at an infected, right before killing it, and felt an understanding so poignant.

That is what I have become.

He is brought low by the devastation of his own brutality.

He never needed to have been bitten to lose himself.

He looks at Ellie – her gaze averted from him, like she can’t even look at him right now – how much she’s grown since the first moment he set eyes on her.

Look back at me, Ellie. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it. Come back to me, Birdie. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it.

He thought he’d grown as much, as well. He hears the soft patter of your feet down the stairs. You hadn’t even taken a moment to put your shoes on, and he takes a step forward as if to follow you. “Birdie– “ he whispers. You need your shoes, it’s cold out, and you need your shoes. It’s what he wants desperately, to go after you, but this fucking fear that makes him so goddamn weak and destructive. He hates himself for it. The sound of the clickers echoes in his mind, the dark taking you away from him, unable to find you as he was caught off guard by your attackers; the violence and depravity of their words as they taunted him with what they’d do to you if he failed. It feels like there are a thousand screaming voices shrieking directly into his ears as he watches you walk out his front door. It snicks shut, whisper silent.

“You know, I came over here wanting to yell at you,” Ellie starts, “To hurt you,” pauses, considers him, her head falling sideways on her neck, looking at him as if she’s only seeing him, really seeing him now, for the first time.

The screaming stops. There is only an impossible silence now. She was so little all those years ago. He wants to smile at the memory of that goofy kid, as wrong as the moment is.

He thinks he might cry, and the thought startles him.

“To say something to really hurt you.” She worries her ring and middle finger in her other hand – fidgeting; finally she releases him from that terrible knowing look in her eyes, deflates as if all the fight she’d stormed in with is suddenly gone. “She saw exactly what I was here for…” The soft space behind his knees burns and itches. He thinks he might be having a panic attack, his chest caving in on itself. What the fuck is going on in your head right now, Joel?

“I had Seth under control, the other night.”

“Yeah, I know.” She goes quiet again, and he can see in her eyes that this is not what she came here for. He is so tired of fighting. How many decades has this interminable battle been raging on around him, within him?

Finally she voices the truth of what she’s here for, the only truth left between them: “I was supposed to die in that hospital… My life would’ve fucking mattered… But you took that from me.” His thoughts are a barrage inside his mind – flipping from the attack earlier, you in his bed beneath him. Birdie, I love you. The hospital. Ellie, Sarah, Ellie, Sarah, you. Every decision made that’s led him here, to this moment.

There is something eternally complex about her words. Had he not intervened, had he not saved her in the hospital that day, yes, yes, she would have died, perhaps the world would have been saved. He remembers Kathleen, all those years ago, children die all the time, and didn’t he fucking know that. His own child was dead. He understood that better than anyone. Is one life worth everything? But he’d decided that day that Ellie would not be one of those children stolen by fate. No matter what he had to do or sacrifice, even of himself, she would not be taken. And so she wasn’t. Yes, he’d lost her in all other ways, but at least she was still alive to hate him. It was all that mattered when it came down to it. Did her life matter more or less now after the fact? The grace of her immunity would always exist. No matter what he did. Was it a miracle, a gift from God, or a burden too terrible to bear? In many ways, he’d turned himself into that great burden; for her, for himself, for the people he’d killed and those that waited for someone who’d never again return to them because of his actions. He’d fucked with fate that day. He’d brutalized and murdered so many people; this was fact. No amount of apology or forgiveness could ever erase that. So yes, he’d taken from her, taken the insurmountable weight of guilt from the small shoulders of a child who should have never carried that burden to begin with. Taken a misplaced sense of guilt at having survived when so many others hadn’t. Given her time to grow, to have a life. Nothing could ever make him regret that. No matter what. If nothing else was true, it was that Ellie going on, Ellie living, would always be the most important thing to him.

“If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment…I’d do it all over again.” There is no regret in his heart about that.

“That was the one thing, Joel” and she says it with such urgency, it makes his stomach clench tight. She brings her fist violently into her flat, waiting palm, clutches her hands together as if she’s grasping onto all the frustration and resentment she holds against him. As if she could just make him understand, like he’s too dense to do so. But he understands. He always has. “That was the one thing that could’ve made my life matter…”

“Your life matters, kiddo. It always did. It’s always mattered to me.”

She’s quiet then. As if the thought is something too big for her mind and heart to grasp. “Yeah…I just…I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for that…” and then, hesitantly, “But I would like to try…”

His voice hoarse: “I’d like that.”.

She looks towards the door you just quietly left through.

“I want to let go of this fucking anger.” And he thinks: I want that too, to the point of desperation. “To just forget it. You don’t deserve it anymore… I don’t think– and after all this…” she waves her arm dejectedly at the room. “Besides… nothing I could ever say to you, could ever hurt you as much as you hurt yourself.” A devastating blow for the truth it holds.

“I– I ain’t hurtin’ myself,” every word sits tight and reluctant in his throat. “And she’ll get over that,” he points pathetically towards the door, he doesn’t even believe his own words. “She knows well enough what we are and what we aren’t.”

“I know she does,” Ellie says sadly. “It’s you who doesn’t,” she presses, “You who’s blind.” She shakes her head a little, softly, from side to side – retreats, as if she’s considering what to say next. Or how much of his own truth she should share with him. The sad pity in her eyes – it terrifies him.

“You’re in love with her.”

He wishes the screeching in his head would come back now because he does, he does know. He can’t deny it. Not that. Not to Ellie. Probably not to anyone. It would be too great a lie to tell, even for him. After all, he’s already confessed it to the person who matters most. What would be the point of refuting it? Panic rises again, thick and cloying in his throat.

Her eyes move back to the door, she clicks her tongue.

“That might just be the worst thing you’ve ever done,” she tells him softly, and she wants to cry for him. For her protector. Her friend. Her betrayer. She wants to cry for all he won’t let himself have.

The sins of his past hang with startling clarity between them in that indelible moment. He looks around the room as if he can see them plainly, and he is frightened.

She laughs a little. Sadly. Quiet. It breaks his heart.

“Maybe you’ve just lost her for good.” He shakes his head immediately, instinctively, eyes still swinging around the room – watching a blur of past mistakes he’d give anything to erase play out. “See you around, Joel.”

He is, once again, made monstrous in that instant.

The door slams behind her, and then they’re both gone.

The moment is lost forever.

Chapter VI

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel tlou #ellie williams #joel miller imagine

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grimes-luvr · 2 years ago

Text

promise.

carl grimes x fem!reader

angst && slight fluff at the end <33 !!

|| summary - carl runs to hilltop alone and hops on one of negan’s supply trucks. when he comes back with negan himself, you can’t help but be angry, worried, and concerned for what he did.

warnings - mentions of murder, death, blood, gore, weapons, language, violence, angry carl & reader, yelling, enid doesn’t exist (solely for plot reasons, i’m an enid stan fs), carl & reader are dating

“your kid gunned down two of my men! and you know what i did? i brought him home, safe and sound, and i made him spaghetti.”

negan looked over at where y/n and carl were standing. olivia’s dead body sat at their feet. y/n glared straight into his eyes, quite frankly unafraid of the pathetic man in front of her.

“all while that girl stared me down! the least she could do was say a little thank you. my, my, she is creepy!”

her eyes were cold. carl had been trying to get her to look at him since he got back, but his attempts failed. she always looked in the other direction or continue to glower at negan.

the audacity that the man had to barge into their homes, kill two of their people (although spencer definitely deserved it), and ask for gratitude was insane. y/n wanted to put a bullet through his head.

———————————————————————

it had been almost an hour since negan and his people left, and y/n still wouldn’t speak to carl. he was starting to worry - it was the first time she had ever seen his eye and she was avoiding him.

he couldn’t take it anymore, so when y/n walked into the house, looking for michonne, he confronted her.

“are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“where’s michonne?” she asked monotonously.

“out. don’t avoid the damn question, y/n, are you avoiding me?”

y/n didn’t answer. instead, she headed upstairs to search for michonne in case carl was lying.

“where-“ carl started, but decided it was useless to ask and just started following her. she looked in every room in the house, eventually reaching carl’s and finding nothing. before she could leave, carl stood in front of the door.

“move,” she mumbled, still not looking at him.

“why? why have you been ignoring me all day?” carl asked.

“just fucking move.”

his voice started to break, “is it because of my eye?”

her fists were clenched and her eyes were narrowed at the ground until she heard him sniffle.

“are you crying?”

“stop ignoring all of my questions, y/n. please. just answer it,” his chin quivered as he spoke, making y/n feel absolutely terrible.

“carl, no-“

“so what is it then? i have been waiting hours for you to say anything to me, and you’re angry at me. why? what did i do?”

“you left,” y/n looked down at the ground again.

“what?”

“you left. without telling me, without saying goodbye, without offering to let me go with you. you could’ve died, carl. then i wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye. i was worried about you, and when the saviors pulled up to the gates with you in the truck, and your bandage off, i knew something was wrong. then when negan said what happened, i knew you were just being stupid. you could have gotten yourself killed this morning, and what would that leave me? carl, i know you want him dead, so do i, but i cannot lose you. we’ve lost too much- i’ve lost too much,” she said, starting to cry too. carl just stared blankly at her, taking in everything she just said.

once he processed it all, he felt like puking. he didn’t realize how much it affected the ones he loved, the one he loved. the only aspect of death that he had imagined upon arrival was negan’s body in front of him and the blood on his hands. he had almost forgotten that he wasn’t immortal himself.

and once he gathered his thoughts, they were too much. he broke down, grabbing a hold of y/n and hugging her tightly like if he let go, she’d disappear.

“i’m sorry,” he sobbed into her hair, “i’m so sorry.”

——————————————————————

“hey carl,” y/n whispered, her voice muffled by his chest. he hummed in response, his arms still almost painfully enclosing her.

“why did you think i was mad at you for your eye?”

carl paused for a good minute, “that’s not important.”

“yeah, it is.”

he paused again, this time for a little longer.

“i’m scared.”

“of what?” y/n asked, pulling away from the hug and holding carl’s face in her hands.

“my eye, it’s gross. i felt like once you saw it, you’d realize i was disgusting-looking. i don’t want you to leave me,” he avoided her eyes, slightly ashamed.

“carl, i’d never leave you. i wouldn’t care if you had three eyes. you’re not disgusting, you just look different. and that is perfectly fine, okay? i’d never be enough of a dick to leave you because of something you can’t control. i love you,” she kissed him softly.

“i love you too,” carl said, letting out a shaky breath.

“you needed your bandage changed this morning right?” y/n asked. carl nodded. “well, since olivia . . . can’t help you anymore, do you want me to do it?”

“yeah,” carl said, a little bit of panic in his voice.

“hey, don’t worry, i’ll make it quick. i know the shit stings.”

y/n moved the hair out of carl’s eye. she inspected it, making sure there were no infections or pieces of hair stuck to it. she cautiously picked out stray strands, careful not to hurt carl. she then cleaned it and held the base gauze to his socket while carl wrapped it comfortably.

“it’s good, no infections or other unknown damage. it’s nice you let it air out for a bit, helps with the healing. it looks fine, you’ve been doing good with the regular changes,” she smiled and kissed his forehead.

“thank you,” he said quietly.

“no big deal, carl. just promise me you won’t leave again? at least without saying goodbye.”

“promise.”

——————————————————————

a/n: this shit was all over the place, but yooo my first carl fic !! feel free to send requests, nothing nsfw cus carl’s a minor (and i’m ace) 🫶🏻🫶🏻

#Spotify #carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #twd fic #carl grimes supremacy #carl grimes x reader #rick grimes #michonne #negan smith #twd x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #twd angst

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angelthecat153 · 1 year ago

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Dylan x reader camp crush part 7

y'n's POV

when me ,Dylan and Ryan walked to the firepit we saw Kaitlyn "hey Kaitlyn guess what Mr H is a voyeuristic creep he has hidden camera's everywhere and a secret room" Dylan said getting all hoped about what me , Ryan and him saw earlier "no that's not_" "well no backup what" Kaitlyn said interrupting Ryan "his eyes are everywhere he's always watching us" i said narrating and Dylan laughed "knock it off y/n he's just got trail camera's set up you know for surveillance that kind of thing" Ryan said not joking around and i just faked yawn "oh" Kaitlyn said "you don't think that's weird" Dylan said obviously getting weirded out "well he's got a perimeter to check kids to protect yeah just to keep check of wildlife" Kaitlyn said starting to sound like a mother "you guys have no imagination" me and Dylan said rolling our eyes at them "so uh what's going on here everything" Ryan asked Kaitlyn "still no service" Kaitlyn said looking at her phone and raising her hand trying to find signal but gave up "ah yeah" Dylan said realising there was no signal "so pretty boring" Kaitlyn said obviously getting bored

Dylan's POV

i looked up at the sky "i wonder maybe a satellite fell out of the sky or something" i said still looking up "yeah and landed in the forest and waking from her slumber to hack her hacking" Ryan said joking around and i looked at the others mostly y/n "ok" y/n said and i just smiled "you know i just realised we may never see each other again after tonight" Kaitlyn said and we all just looked down sadly then we all looked at each other again "you can't have just realised that" i said to Kaitlyn and gave her a dumb look "just trying to set the mood" Kaitlyn said teasingly "what mood" y/n asked mood the vibe you know" Kaitlyn said making more sense "speaking of setting the mood i have work to do ok cause playlists don't make themselves i mean i guess they do but" i said giving a little speech and Kaitlyn just laughed as if it was a joke "all right Ry guy time to get wood" Kaitlyn said making a terrible joke

Ryan's POV

that was a very terrible wood joke "yikes wording" i said not getting the joke at all "oh i know what i said" Kaitlyn said making a point but then we heard y/n say "Abi , NIck just in time" it got all of our attention and turned around to see that y/n was right it was the both of them with a bunch of sticks "we got wood" Abi said then y/n and Dylan were obviously laughing

Kaitlyn's POV

i just realised that Abi stole my joke "we've already done that joke" i said "it's mostly just kindling" Nick said "oh that's all we need there's already a big pile of logs here" y/n said pointing at a lot of logs near the firepit "we could have gotten more but there was a hog or a boar but Nick was very very brave and took one for the team" Abi said and smiled it made me concerned "uh are you sure you guys are ok nobody got gored" i asked them in a conderned voice "we're ok" she said and there was no blood on her "there wasn't a bullfight or anything" Nick said reassruing me and i was relieved

Abi's POV that just reminded me "no i think Nick did make a new girlfriend" i said in a playful tone "oh do tell" y/n said coming up to join the conversation then there was a gunshot and we all turned around to see that it was Emma and Jacob back from the store "special delivery" Emma said with Jacob walking a wheelbarrel

y/n's POV

i was really concerned on where Emma got that gun from "whoa whoa whoa where the hell did that gun come from" i asked in a concerned tone "sis relax ok it's not even real" he said trying to comfort me "uh" i said trying to process the whole gun situation "well i mean it's a real gun but it's just for shooting bears" when he said that i got really scared so Dylan walked over to me and he held my waist and put his rested his chin up on to my head and did nothing else "we found it in the storage room" Emma said answering my question from earlier and Kaitlyn gave Jacob a look as if saying 'stop scaring youir sister' "ok fine fine we'll put it down" Jacob said in a disappointed voice and when he put the gun down "thank you guns are no joke dipshit" Kaitlyn said in a serious voice

Jacob's POV that reminds me of something "and and we bring you a hand-picked selection of only the finest that hackett's quarry has to offer" i said offering everyone a watermelon but they didn't want any

Nick's POV

i see something that looked familiar and y/n noticed and got out of Dylan's embrace and we had a happy look on our faces "no freaking way" we said to Jacob "yes freaking way" he said responding back to us "pop pop peanut butter butter pops pop pop in your mouth pop" the three of of us sang and finished doing the dance "i didn't even know you could still these anyway" i said looking down at the packet "hey cool your jets there cowboy allright these are spoken" Jacob said snatching the packet out of my hand but y/n rolled her eyes at her brother "dude you can't just shove in me and Nick's faces and not expect us to want a pop-pop pop them in our mouths come on" y/n said still rolling her eyes

Jacob's POV

wow just wow my sister is now getting annoyed but i ignored it "hey Emma please hand me the shotgun" i said and Emma tossed me it "what you're gonna shoot me and y/n over them" Nick said "no dumbass ok we are going to shoot for them" i said clearly making much more sense "nah dude absoloutly not no" Nick said disagreeing and y/n just agreed with him "there is no way i'm leaving you 2 dillweeds alone with a gun i don't want you frighting miss y/n over here" but i got annoyed "come on look the shooting range is like right over there ok it'll be fun ok look you and me old fashioned shoot out first prize peanut butter butter pops all to yourself while y/n watches us win" i said trying not to include y/n because i didn't want her using a gun "dude i-" but i decided to interrupt him "i guess you don't really want them then huh" i said teasing Nick "fine you're on" Nick said giving in to my offer and i got excited "oh yeah boy" i said still excitedly while swinging the gun around

Kaitlyn's POV

and there was still no way i'm letting Jacob hold a gun "Jacob hand me that gun now i mean nobody's handling those firearms if you're gonna act like a dick about it" i said the he gave me the gun "ok then you can be the ref you need an objective third party" Jacob said being all whiny about it "we're trying to get a party starting here Jacob" y/n said walking up with Dylan "well the main party's not gonna just cause you're off on a little side quest come on please" and he was getting and begging me "allright i guess we're gonna have ourselves an old-fashioned shoot out" i said agreeing to him after he finished begging me "look there's a clearing we can use as a shooting range back there but if i see either of you dicking around i am turning this around" i said getting very serious "and y/n's going to watch you 2 boys allright" i said then y/n came over and she gave a thumbs up and i nodded "if y/n is going then i'm going to stay with her" Dylan said coming over and then the five of us headed out to the shooting range while Emma,Abi and Ryan stayed behind

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ohworm-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Burns

MCYT: c!Technoblade Boyfriend Scenario

mcyt masterlist

‼ c!Technoblade prompt: Reader gets hurt while exploring through the Nether, coming back wounded to their lover ‼

Featuring: c!Technoblade

Warnings: GORE, angst (?), mentions of injury, description of injury, mentions of blood, worried techno

[ 1.5k word count ]

a/n - i wanted to do a Techno work for a while, so i finally got around to doing it! enjoy the work! i’m horrible at doing endings if you couldn’t tell lol

content below the cut!

You happily made your way through the scorching confines of the Nether, checking your inventory to look at the loot you had gotten. You had been trading with piglins for hours, giving out one bar of gold after another in return for a wide array of items, a lot of which were useless to you.

You had traveled farther out than you anticipated, seeing nothing other than the dull shade of red from the netherack and the flow of lava around you. You had placed a few stray blocks to keep you on track, one of these landmarks more obvious than the others.

The nether-bricked fortress loomed over you as you passed through one of the arches. It didn't seem to have been looted yet, so you had saved the coordinates to it, planning to tell your boyfriend when you got back. Your footsteps echoed through the landscape as you made your way back, unaware of the group of 4 blazes that floated high above you.

You had been absentmindedly checking your inventory still, throwing out the near stacks of soul sand and quartz that had accumulated in your inventory when they started firing at you. You reacted a split second too late, overwhelmed by the searing pain in your arm.

Your clothing was starting to burn up as you erratically patted it down, now left with the skin painfully peeling off, your blood crisping and drying up around it. You screamed in pain as you set the fire out, tears welling up in your eyes at the sight if the injury.

Focusing on getting away, you made a dash towards one of the pillars, hiding behind it as the blazes shooting again at you. The fire caught at the netherack in front of you, fire crackling at your feet. You took a few frantic steps backward, your back meeting with the wall of nether brick.

Waiting a moment to catch your breath, you peered over the side to look at the blazes. They had gotten a bit closer, still looming high above you. You looked around you, spotting the nether portal to the tundra a few hundred blocks away. If you booked it, you could probably make it! But would the blazes catch you before you got there?

The sound of fire shooting resonated in your ears, making you jump back behind the pillar. The fire caught on the netherack, much further away than the last shot. You moved your shoulder a bit, crying out in pain at the intensity of your injury. You held your arm against your chest, clutching it tightly.

You decided it was now or never, breaking into a sprint towards the portal. You heard the fire shooting again, but you couldn't risk slowing down. Sweat ran down your back as your feet collided with the soft netherack under them. The vibration from your footsteps shot up through your arm, making you scream as you pushed forward.

The portal was much closer now, and you didn't hear the shots of blazes. You couldn't risk looking back, so you continued to run. The obsidian pathway felt hard under your feet, in contrast to the softer feeling of netherack. You slowed your pace, adrenaline draining as you stumbled through the portal.

When you came through the other side, you were met with the calm winds of the arctic. You fell to your feet, the pain becoming almost unbearable. You laid your back against the portal, finally deciding to take a better look at your wound.

The entirety of your left arm, from your shoulder to your elbow, was burnt. A large portion of your top was burnt too. Raw skin peeked out from under the burnt portions, red and blotchy. There wasn't much blood, to your relief. Your entire arm still felt like it was burning, searing in pain.

You had to get back to the cabin. That was your goal. Get back to the cabin. You shakily stood up, stumbling slightly as you made your way across the tundra. You held your arm close to your chest, wincing every time the wind blew against it and the vibrations that wracked through your body with every heavy step.

After what had felt like hours, the cabin was finally in sight. The sun was starting to set over the icy plains. You knew mobs would start spawning if you didn't hurry up. You stumbled your way towards the cabin, seeing how all of the lights were on in the place you called home.

When you finally reached the spruce doors. Before you could even reach for the handle, the doors swung open, revealing your piglin boyfriend with a worried expression on his face.

"Y/n! Where the hell have you be-" His eyes switched from concern to anger and settling on distress. He held your uninjured shoulder and ushered you inside, moving you to sit down on the couch that sat down in the center of the room.

He quickly started rifling through chests, not a word spoken as he did so. He pulled out a bottle of healing and regeneration, tucking them under his arm as he reached for gauze and a variety of antibiotics.

You watched him as he made his way from the chests over to where you sat. Your legs dangled off the front of the couch, your boyfriend situating himself between them as he took a better look at your arm. He took a short blade from his boot, cutting off your shirt carefully. He tossed it to the side, focusing his attention on your wound.

He pushed two potions into your chest, you could just feel the anger radiating off of him. It was scary. Without a word, you downed both of the potions, feeling the pain subside for the most part. You exhaled a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, shutting your eyes slowly.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?" His tone was firm, cold, anger dripping from it. You felt terrible, you knew his mind would be working overtime trying to find out a solution before you told him a worm. Your eyes opened slowly, a frown finding its way to your face.

"Blazes," you tell him softly. You saw as his shoulders became slightly relax, at least it wasn't a person who did this to you.

"Tech, love, it's really not that bad. Let me patch it up." Wrong choice of words. His eye twitched and his brows furrowed as he looked towards you. "Not that bad?! Y/n are you looking at it? Your entire upper arm is messed up!"

"I've seen worse on you." You wanted to try and deescalate the situation, but you knew it wasn't going to end up that way. "This isn't about my wounds, this is about yours! You aren't fine!" He yelled, worry filling his eyes as he started to focus on dressing your wound. He stood up, going towards the kitchen to grab a wet cloth.

"Tech-" He grumbled angrily as he drenched the cloth in water. You knew he was blaming himself, you knew the voices would be screaming at him. He settled himself in front of you again, eyes dark as he gently pushed the cloth against your wound, very contrasted to how tense he was.

Your breath hitched, your hand grabbing onto his tightly. He put all of his attention onto wrapping you up. He was completely silent during the whole process. By the end of it, you had a new shirt on, your arm settled comfortably in a sling.

When he was fully finished, he settled his palms on your knees, head down as he mumbled something. You brought your free hand up to his hair, gently coursing your fingers through it. "I could have prevented this," he said, just enough so you could hear him.

"Hey," you whispered, taking your hand out of his hair and moving it to his cheek. He leaned into your palm affectionately, casting his eyes upwards to meet yours. He didn't look angry anymore, his eyes were just filled with remorse.

"It's not your fault, please believe me when I say that." He hummed lowly, closing his eyes and melting into your touch. You stayed like that for a while, silently cupping his cheek. When he opened his eyes again, his arms moved off your knees and he sat up.

You cast him a confused look as he sat down next to you, resting his back on the armrest of the couch. He huffed, opening his arms as a welcoming for you. You chuckled softly, laying back into him and making sure you didn’t lay on your injured arm.

You lay your head against his chest as he carefully wraps both of his arms around you. He hums again, the sound resonating through his chest. You let your eyes shut as you smile. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead as you let exhaustion take over.

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alrightberries · 4 years ago

Text

“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst. ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands.

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it.

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless.

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice.

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand.

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses.

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations.

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.”

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in.

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for.

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed.

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity.

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head.

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.”

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes.

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?”

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more.

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.”

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant.

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home.

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#the bit where levi visits oc #is my favorite part to write #and the lil banter at the start too #i love banter but i also love sweet little words #this is proof that i can be romantic without calling someone a dumbass #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine

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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 4 years ago

Note

So, you get got writers block eh? How about Toshi being absolutely smitten with the new teacher at UA and has been in love with her stern, hardcore attitude? And then he forces her into dancing with him while he serenades her (or them whatever is fine w/you) and then they date. This lives quite rent free in my head and I'm bad at writing sooo.... Here, it's your problem now.

Coming riggghtttt up!

Violet Enigma

Toshinori Yagi x F! Teacher! Reader

Warnings: mentions of chronic illness (very very subtle), and that’s really it

Not many things have absolutely stopped All Might in his tracks. No, he's well used to seeing the usual gore and violence, the high stakes, the horrific circumstances. None of them have ever made him pause, not even for a moment.

But when she walked into the office, her heels clicking against the tile, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

She didn't notice, of course. She was much too busy staring straight ahead, cooly.

That was until her eyes caught his. In that moment, time stood totally still. It was almost as if, no, it couldn't be.

Her eyes seemed to flash purple.

But no, he assured himself, it was surely a trick of the light.

He could scarcely blink before her gaze was back to her target and she seemingly forgot all about him.

...

"Hey, uh... Who's that lady?" Toshinori whispered, cradling a cup of tea. Aizawa lazily pressed some buttons on the microwave, heating up last night's pizza.

"What lady? How can I possibly know who you're talking about?" He yawned.

Toshinori flushed at the realization that, in fact, not everyone had her image permanently implanted in their minds.

"You know...the one with the... hair? And the, uh...the new one?"

Aizawa sighed, thinking for a moment.

" I think that's y/n," he replied, plopping himself down next to his coworker.

"Thanks," muttered Toshinori. Just as he took a sip of his tea, an unfamiliar voice filled his ears.

"What's got you so curious about me, sir?" The woman asked. She was carrying a clipboard, scribbling something.

The blond had nothing to say. He was so shocked by her presence that he could just stare for a moment.

She sighed, biting the tip of her pen.

"Do you know where room number 512 is?" She asked, not even looking up from her work. Toshinori sighed in relief of her changing the subject.

"Its upstairs and to the right."

"Thank you, Mister...?"

"Toshinori. Or Yagi. Or...um...well, nevermind. Aren't you going to eat something?"

"I will. Just not right now. I've got a lot to get done, Mr. 'Nevermind.' "

And like that, she was gone.

...

The following day, Ms. Y/N entered the office once again, her pristine outfit looking as fresh as a pressed uniform.

She paused for a moment upon seeing All Might in his muscular form, however.

"I don't believe we've met," she mumbled, "You may refer to me as Ms. Y/N. And yourself?"

He subconsciously looked down.

"I'm All Might. Haven't you... seen me before?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I can't say I have. I don't watch television. What's your real name?" She asked skeptically. For a moment, it almost looked like her eyes flashed again.

"Well, uh, you see-".

"It's fine. Do you know when the next meeting is being held, Mr... Sir?"

.....

At lunch, she was no where to be seen, as always.

Usually, Yagi would make himself comfortable in the staff room with a cup of tea and a book.

Today, though, he'd decided to find her.

He aimlessly wandered the now empty halls, passing rooms where classes were being held, the ever noisy lunchroom, peeking into each open door in an attempt to spot her.

Miss Enigma. That's what she goes by as a pro hero. But, she's not the type of hero you'd see get the credit. She'd much rather work alongside a group, blending into the background, and staying subtle.

He found that name quite fitting for her, though.

Especially because he didn't even know what her damn quirk was. No one did.

Finally, he reached the computer lab all the way at the end of the hall. The lights were off, which would usually signal that no one was in there, but based off of the rapid clicking of keys, someone had definitely snuck in there.

Probably a student. Kids like Shinsou and Deku would usually hide themselves here during lunch, getting their homework done in leiu of eating.

Upon opening the door though, he quickly realized that he was wrong.

It was her.

She jumped, startled terribly by the unwanted interupption. She quickly regained her composure as she turned around.

"What are you doing here, mister?" She asked, her eyebrow raised.

"I can ask you the same," he retorted with a small, semi confident smirk.

She sighed.

"Why does it concern you?"

Toshinori's face grew pink, embarassment growing in his chest, suffocating him.

"Uh, I...um, I j-just-"

"I'm busy. You may speak to me later," she stated, spinning around to face the screen once again. Yagi stood there for a moment in shock before closing the door and doing as she wished: leaving her alone.

He did not look for her, though. Her merciless tone was enough to slice him to the bone. He didn't want to hear any more.

It was right after classes ended when he was on his way to his dorm. He passed room 512, Ms. Y/N's class, and as he passed the room, he paused, hearing her scolding a student.

"There was absolutely no reason for you to earn this grade in my class, young man. None. You can do so much better than this."

"B-but, it was a 96," whimpered the boy. He couldn't see exactly who it was, but he could tell by his warbled tone it was Young Midorya.

Isn't a 96 good though?

She sighed.

"It was a silly mistake you made. It could have been 100. Listen, I know the kind of student you are. You're smart. You should be competing with students like Iida, who earned a 102."

She continued to speak, but Toshi had heard enough. He was exhausted as it is, but hearing something so silly as that just exacerbated it.

...

The next morning, a stiff hand squeezed his shoulder as he sipped his coffee.

He looked up, wide eyed, meeting Y/N's steely gaze.

"I didn't see you yesterday. Didn't you wish to speak with me?" She asked.

"Oh, uh...it was nothing, really," he stammered out, looking down. She squinted her eyes.

"That feels like it's not entirely true. Either way, I will be available for a...chat... If that's what you were hoping for, this lunch period. If you'd like," she offered, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Really?" He squeaked, his shyness peaking through. She nodded silently before delicately seating herself at her desk.

It took centuries, but finally, lunch period arrived.

And so did she.

Before Toshinori even had the chance to get up to find her, she was standing at his desk.

"Are you ready?" She asked, holding a lunch bag in each hand.

He nodded. In response, y/n handed him one of the bags.

"You never eat anything. It's not healthy, you know."

He chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, I've survived a lot worse."

"...Like?"

"Well, I'd rather not say. Not...now, at least," he scratched the back of his head, praying that she'd change the subject.

She didn't. Instead, she simply stared blankly at him.

"Where are you taking me, anyways?" He asked. He internally screamed as he waited for her to use that to spark a conversation.

"I don't like being around people. We could go to the library, or my dorm, or your dorm, or anywhere where it can just be you and I."

He nodded.

"L-lets just go to your dorm," he mumbled, realizing his was quite in a state of dissarray at the moment.

She nodded.

The walk was pleasent enough. As pleasent as a near silent walk could be.

One thing about Ms. Enigma is that everything she does, no matter how seemingly miniscule, is done with a sense of urgent purpose. Her eyes are always fixed upon some sort of goal, and each with each breath, she is calculating her next move carefully.

It helped her be an efficient, yet stern teacher, but a hard person to chat with.

Finally, the pair reached her dorm. Number 111.

The door opened to reveal an utterly spotless bed and kitchenette, surrounded by piles and piles of books, scribbled notes, calculators, and empty soda cans. She stepped over the piles gracefully, scarcely looking down, while Toshinori carefully tip toed around every discarded item in order to avoid damaging a single item.

Frankly, he feared what a scolding from her would comprise of for him.

She sat herself onto her bed, cris crossing her legs. He, on the other hand, took his place at the kitchenette.

The silence was unbearable.

“So, um...what did you wanna chat about, Enigma?” he muttered.

Pushing up her glasses with one finger, she replied plainly, “You tell me, Yagi.”

He shrugged.

“Eat,” she ordered.

Captured by her spell, he obeyed her, eating the food she’d prepared. It was a humble little meal, one that she’d surely planned out, and was in a word, delicious.

Thankfully, the silence changed from an uncomfortable one to one that he would be content with curling up and living in for quite a while.

...

After that day, Y/N would always be somewhere near Toshinori during lunch period. Whether it be in the same room, or right next to him, she was there.

She usually was hard at work or silently eating. That didn’t mean, though, that she wouldn’t urge him to eat something. He’d find small lunches made up for him at his desk on days where she wasn’t there, and on days she was, she’d silently pause every once in awhile to glare at him if he hadn’t eaten.

Despite that seemingly caring action, though, she didn’t seem at all interested in the blond. He didn’t attempt to flirt, or anything that could possibly elicit a raised eyebrow, but that was simply because he felt as if he couldn’t.

What if she rejected him?

I mean, she works right across from him. They see eachother every single day.

It’d be hell.

But...

What if she didn’t?

...

“Alright, we need a couple chaperones for the spring semester dance. Who’s up for it?” Aizawa asked boredly. Miss Midnight and Present Mic raised their hands excitedly.

“Alright, I’ve got you both down. I need two more.”

“I’ll do it,” offered Y/N. The entire conference room grew quiet for a moment.

“You do realize that you can’t give out detention slips at a dance, right?” Hizashi scoffed.

“I am aware of that, sir. Are you aware of the existance of an ‘inside voice’?” she gritted with condecention seeping through her teeth.

He put his hands up, indicating that she’d won that particular battle.

“I’m free on that night, too,” Toshinori added. His comment broke through the thick silence that had fell onto the room.

“Thank you, A- ahem, Toshinori,” Aizawa nodded, penning the final name down.

After the meeting, Y/N was the final one to leave, alongside Toshinori.

“You know, there’s gonna be a lot of people there on that dance,” he whispered.

“I know. Maybe I’d like that. You seem like you do,” she replied, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of her lips. No one else would’ve noticed it, but after spending so many monotone days with her, he recognized the new expression instantly.

“I don’t, particularly. But...”

“But?”

“Nothing. It’s...nothing.”

“If you say so, Mister. I’ll see you then,” she allowed herself to smile as she once again, left him in silence.

...

That week passed by without much issue. There was the usual ruckus coming from class 1-A, but nothing too serious.

The night had arrived. Just outside his dorm, he could hear the clamour of excited chatter coming from students on their way to the gymnasium.

He sighed, tying a red tye around his neck, a nice contrast against his suit.

He hadn't exactly planned on dressing like this, but upon realizing that he didn't have anything less fancy than this and more fancy than what he usually wore to work, he settled on being a little extraordinary.

As soon as he exited the dorm and was greeted with the wave of students pushing past each other in the halls, he knew he'd made a mistake.

"Oof! Oh, hey, um...?" Midoriya squeaked, pressed against the wall and cramped. He’d caught himself before he called him by his hero name, but his real name slipped his mind at that exact moment.

"Toshinori. What is it, my boy?" He smiled, ruffling the boy's messy hair.

"Uh, I dunno, I don't usually do stuff like this. Are... Why are you wearing that? Isn't it a little fancy?"

Toshinori blushed instantly.

"Oh my God. Who is it?" Izuku squealed excitedly, cursing himself for forgetting a pen to take some notes.

"Geez, kid, keep it down a little, won'tcha? It-she-"

"She?!"

"Single file line or none of you will be attending tonight's dance," stated a voice that ascended effortlessly above the crowd's noisiness.

Instantly, everyone calmed down and began to form a line, neatly making their way to the gym.

Toshinori closed his door as he whisked the boy away, urging him to go have a good time, and to 'enjoy being young while you can.'

It was merely seconds after he was standing alone, against the wall, waiting for the crowd to die down as he noticed her.

Y/N had been standing there for quite a few minutes, in the same position as he, and just about 4 feet away.

It was hard for him to believe that he'd missed her. The dress she'd worn was absolutely more extravagant than any gown he'd seen in an event like this. It was sparkly and red, reflecting every ounce of light that hit it from all directions. It accentuated her body beautifully and perfectly fit.

In short, she was stunning.

"My, my. You sure do look nice today," she grinned.

He nodded dumbly. He was just about as red as the dress she was wearing.

Finally, it was time for them to make their ways to the dance.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked.

"I hope so," he replied, toying with his tie.

...

Music boomed in Y/N's and Toshinori's ears, accompanied by dealing with the antics of goofball teenagers and breaking up silly fights.

Once things began to calm down quite a bit, Y/N approached Toshinori, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaning in close to his ear.

"Meet me on the rooftop," she whispered before dissapearing into the crowd.

So, he did.

She sat near the edge, staring into the inky violet sky.

Toshinori took his place next to her, handing her a much needed bottle of water.

She thanked him before turning to him with a deep sigh.

"There's something I'd like to tell you," she mumbled. For the first time, she actually looked nervous.

Taking a sip of the water, she continued, "You know, I never really do things like this. You've probably gathered that by...my nature. But, I must admit, you are one person I can't seem to get off of my mind. And, well, frankly...I like you, Toshinori. To quite a degree."

He blinked, slack jawed, shaking his head.

“How could someone like you like someone like me?

“Good question. I like you because you're...well, I suppose I don't really know. You're just you, and that's what I like about you. Plus, I know you’ve done so much for so many people. Why dont you like you?”

He paused, his heart absolutely seizing at that for more than one reason.

"Oh! I suppose I should tell you about my quirk. But...I expect full confidentiality from you. Essentially, I can find out one's secrets by looking at them. Surely, you've seen me activate it before."

He nodded, covering his mouth.

"W-what do you...know?"

"Don't worry, not much. I respect you too much to dig that deep. All I know is that, in some point of your life, you were probably some type of hero. All I know, is that in your life time, you've saved many lives, and touched countless others. As to why you'd want that to be a secret, I have no idea. But, I do find it interesting," she explained.

"What do you do with the secrets you know, then?" He asked, his voice still pinched with fear that his secret could be compromised.

"With yours? Nothing. I have no friends to share it with, and not enough details or desire to post about it online. Frankly, I don't give a damn about who you used to be. I care about who you are. Your secret will always be safe with me."

He sighed deeply. It wasn’t as if no one was aware of his secret; plenty of people knew. But the more people who did, the higher at risk the school, as well as the students and staff, were placed at.

Plenty of people,too, wanted him dead. Even being retired, he is still considered a threat to villians across the globe, thanks to his notorious acts of heroism throughout the decades. With him in his sickly, weakened state, he’d be easy to assasinate, and the people who would go that far wouldn’t be opposed to taking others down with him.

He...couldn’t have that.

So, before Y/N was scheduled to begin work, it was decided that she’d be left in the dark about his identity, as well as any newcoming staff from thenon out. It’d be safer that way.

Her eyes dreamily stared off into the infinate stars as she silently pondered on what to say next.

“Would you like to know the rest?” he asked. His voice shook a little, causing her to look at him.

She nodded.

“I’m All Might.” “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!” giggles y/n, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m pathetic,” he sighes. He rubbed his forehead, looking away ashamedly.

“No, no! I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier! I mean, you guys do look pretty similar.”

He shrugs.

“I’m serious! Plus, I mean, it’s kind of obvious now that you mention it. I mean, I guess you guys do wear the same clohtes to work everyday, and I haven’t seen you two in the same room before, so yeah, I can definiately see it,” she paused, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks bright red.

“God, I’ve probably said ‘Good morning’ to you and...er...you, twice every day. Why’d you let me do that like a fool?!” she teased, play punching him in the arm.

He laughed, absolutely relieved that she didn’t ridicule him for how he’d taken care of his body for the past few years. It seemed that her attitude had completely changed from the one he’d known for so long, but in a good way.

In a happy way.

She stood up, still smiling, “We need to go back to the dance, Mister. We have a duty, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m well aware. You can almost hear the music all the way up here, can’t you?”

She nodded, walking towards the door to the stairs. He grabbed her by the arm before she could escape, though, and leave him alone with his thoughts and hopes and dreams like she had so many times.

“You... you didn’t get my answer,” he breathed, pulling her in. She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“What exactly- oh!”

The music from downstairs was slow, romantic, and jovial. Perfect for this moment.

He gently took her other hand, guiding her into a dance.

“I-I can’t...I don’t know how to dance, Mr. Yagi,” she mumbled, looking up at him.

“I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead,” he smiled back.

And just like that, the Enigma was gone, leaving just Y/N in her place. She was no longer an Enigma, but rather a glimmer of what he’d never gotten a chance to be: in love.

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tomesandsuch · 3 years ago

Text

Two Bards

cw: violence/some gore, salty language, babies crying

There was a silence that befell the two of them. The youth gathered his breath in the wake of the song's last verse, looking expectantly to the one seated opposite him.. The boy, head crowned with a rag of off-white locks, leaned forward to stare all the more closely at the adult man that sat in the dirt across from him.

The man dressed in a low-necked tunic of many colors whose sleeves hung down past his hips, hands emerging from small slits in the garment's sides. The youth stared into the man's eyes intending to make contact, but the adult seemed to be more concerned with the stars."...Teacher?"

“LANE!”

The man’s head swung upward in an abrupt motion; his hand came to rest on his knee. "I-know, I know, Harman. I was listening, I was just looking at--" The boy cut him off sharply with a high-pitched protest. "Liar! You didn't even notice that I'd finished the song!" The boy’s high-pitched tone worried the painted man: if he misspoke, he faced the mortifying prospect of further disturbance during his valuable after-dinner contemplation. Lane grunted and bent forward, roused from where he sat. "Are you saying I have to snap to attention the second you're done?” he said, pursing his lips, “Maybe I'm just taking it in." Lane leaned forward, balancing by way of his elbows planted atop his knees, and scooted closer to their fire. There were still streaks of light-blue down the edges of the man's face from where he'd neglected to clean his face paint.

The boy's reply was immediate. Harman moved closer to the fire in turn. "Well, what do you think, then?" Lane’s eyelids began to droop, and his mouth made itself a long, thin line. "It's a very lovely song, Har--" The young boy’s features had begun to sink even before he’d begun talking, but his pupil knew him well, and he knew the signs of his mentor’s most favorite weapon, hollow appeasement, when he saw them. "No! You're not being honest!" he said.

The minstrel's lips knit tighter together. "Harman, what you do want me to say?" said Lane. Harman's frown grew all the deeper. It was clear the alternative did little to soothe him. "I won't get upset! You're supposed to help me make the songs better! You promised!"

Lane made a face that sagged like it was about to slough off the rest of his head, then nodded. "Fine, fine. I have a couple of observations about the song." Harman didn't even have to nod to get the man started, but he did regardless, eager still. Lane pursed his lips, then, after a short pause, began to speak. "I get what it's about, I do, it just seems so terribly fake to me. You know, ah… playing at a greater emotional depth than it has." On Harman's face, the look of wild-eyed excitement was gradually supplanted by confusion.

"Really, it was just a poorly-written song. I lost much of my interest when it became clear that those same two chords were going to be used,” Lane said, his tone overt in its dreariness. “I'm sure the lyrics are emotional, yes, your mother and all that, but such dreary instrumentation means it can only do so much. I ask you this: as one who intends to become a professional musician, do you really plan to fall back on that?" Lane said. The painted man’s visage had hung lower and lower, closer to the flame whose flickering light cast his features in red. Already backing away from the flame as his teacher leaned in closer, Harman stared, the young boy’s face contorted by horror. “Y–... You…” Lane’s expression was as impassive as ever: he met his student’s gaze, but offered no hint of reassurance. Instead, the taller man stood and plunged his head back into the darkness that lingered around the dying flame. He took in a nice, long breath through his nostrils, then swung his shoulders about and spun on a heel to take a few steps away.

“...Harman, listen to me, I know it’s upsetting, but–” At that point, Lane turned his attention back over his shoulder only to see nothing. His apprentice had gone. Well, that figured, at least in his mind. The boy had always been bad with criticism, and, with all the criticism that Lane had faced in his life, he truly believed that the mark of a good performer was not a prodigious musical talent but rather a highly-developed ability to not be bothered by the opinions of others. In this respect, his apprentice was lacking still, especially compared to how far he had come in his studies in such a short time. It wasn’t but the autumn before last when he’d first crossed paths with the traveling merchant, and the boy at his side that wished to become a bard. The thought roused something in him, though, whatever it was, it was only enough to summon forth the faintest of grimaces. A conversation to be had another time, considering Harman had made himself scarce.

Lane waited a while longer: a bell, roughly. The most responsible thing to do would have been to charge fearlessly into the night after his young charge, and this fact wasn’t lost on Lane, but the man was so terribly scared of the dark, and the highlands were so terribly big. Harman had run off before. He always came back. Why would this time be any different? Lane thought on that: It wouldn’t be any different. Over and over again, business as usual, no cause for alarm. Finally, he mustered up the courage(?) to turn in for the night, sufficiently adamant in his belief that the boy would be fine to forget he existed and have a nice, quiet bit of shuteye.

Lane scooped a bit of slightly-dirty water from a tin pot sitting some ways from the fire, then meandered over towards it right up until an abrupt sound snared his attention, and soon after came the sensation to match. It was a sequence that he was familiar with, but never quite as familiar as he wished he was: the shunk of wood over wood. Lane bent forward, careening back over the nearby lock and being sent head-over-heels by the wild motion. Glancing between clutched hands revealed the source of the sound: an arrow, its head buried a good ways in the man’s gut.

There were a few, precious seconds where he wasn’t quite cognizant of the situation, and as soon as those left him there came the searing pain. Each and every stir, every jerk or careful movement from him twisted the arrow’s head where it lay embedded deep enough in his midsection to wrack him with unimaginable pain with every movement. Really, it was quite imaginable by the standards of most, but there’s only so much to be expected when a man highly discomforted by the sight of his own blood gets shot in the stomach.

“Haauuuhhh... Harmaaaaan…” Lane crooned out into the night in a pseudo-singsong tone that may or may not have been intentional. “Haaarmaaaan… Har…” There was a shape moving in the dark, crowned by a head of cropped white hair, and soon after it meandered into the dying flame’s light. The boy held a shortbow in one hand, his other empty, likely having held an arrow until a few seconds ago. The firelight crept up his face and flickered off the wetness surrounding the boy’s eyes, which were reddened. Harman called out, tentative. “Teacher…?”

He advanced at a near-snail’s pace, only quickening once the boy was close enough to see that he’d hit his mark, and then some. For a man lauded for his ability to compose deeply moving music, he had remarkable trouble ascertaining the mood of the sobbing twelve-year-old before him: was it his intention to fire another? Or was he coming to help? All things that he would have thought of, if not for the fact that he felt a pang of pain that drove the back of his head to the dirt, and it was in that moment that his thoughts were only occupied by one observation: he grabbed my bodkin arrows. In fact, that thought overwhelmed all others. Bodkin, bodkin, bodkin, like a chant, or a bad song.

Harman had never shot a man before. Fish, squirrels, rabbits and the like were acceptable, but Lane had no success at even convincing him to assist in butchering the game. Now, he laid flat out on his back, his breathing shallow, blood overwhelming the varying colors of his blouse and staining its front a dark color around where the arrow sat. “Hhuuhh… Haaa…” he called out, the beginnings of his pupil’s name crescendoing into an airy cry when he tried to shift his weight onto his side. “Harman…” Lane audibly swallowed a gulp of saliva and cleared his throat anew. “It’s… it’s okay, everything’s okay… I just need you to reach into my knapsack and find my linkpearl. Call for help, okay, Harman? Call the station. They have a healer there. It’s okay.”

The boy’s frazzled state began to subside at the sight of Lane finding some modicum of composure, even if the man could barely speak above a faint whisper for fear of even his voice stirring the barbs of the bodkin. Once Lane had managed to find his words Harman calmed quickly, bleary and teary-eyed as he was. Lane’s spare clothing and supplies laid strewn in a circle around the boy as he tore through the bag searching for the brooch that he kept his linkpearls in. As he sat searching, his mentor tried his best to staunch the bleeding around his wound, though his hands were stayed by the flares of pain that resulted from even the most fleeting touches of his hands against his leaking gut.

“Harman… did you find it yet, Harman?” Lane’s breathing had grown more shallow by the minute, and in turn his voice quieter, only for him to bark out a hoarse yell, the effete dressing of his voice stripped away in an instant. “The brooch, dammit! My brooch! How can you not find it!? It’s massive!” A sound escaped the man’s mouth that resembled something between a grunt and a gurgle. “I guess it’s a stroke of good luck that you still shoot too low…” A silence fell. “...Harman? What’re you… Did you– Harman… That’s not a… HARMAN!”

It was when the boy turned with yet another bodkin clutched in his hand that Lane the Lugubrious, miraculously, managed to get his feet beneath him. He acted without even realizing it, spurred on by a single thought: I don’t care if I die somewhere else, I just have to get the hell out of here. But his feet were not as willing as his mind, and his legs weren’t really on top of things either. So instead, Lane the Lugubrious wobbled in place, eyes teary, standing across a barely-lit stretch of dirt with an adolescent clumsily attempting to nock an oversized arrow and kill him.

It wasn’t an arrow that came across the clearing, however, but the high-pitched yells of the child, spoken through coughs and crackles and all the tears there were. “Every time… I try to… I try to… nnruughffgh…” Harman sputtered out. Lane could do little more than stand and stare, helplessness now thoroughly impressed onto him. “Every… time… I write a song… you say it doesn’t have emotion, or you say it doesn’t have soul, or you say it’s overwrought! You say it’s… it’s–... I don’t know what overwrought means! I didn’t overwrought it! I didn’t– I diddid– eee-eeee–” The bow had clattered to the ground somewhere in the midst of the boy’s speech degenerating wholly into sobbing. Lane could do little more than look on, his fear having evaporated as abruptly as the arrow had struck him. By now, the redness had begun to sag downward, seeping into his trousers, though he seemed less perturbed by it now.

Slowly and shakily, Lane began to make his way across the clearing. Harman sat in a motionless heap on the ground and let no noise escape him; the pale wood of his shortbow was seen easily in the waning light. The bard advanced at a limping pace across the camp, a hand holding at his stomach still. “Harman,” Lane said, “I’m sorry. I…” His speech was calm, but he could only let his lungs swell with so much air before they began to flex his innards against the arrow. “I guess I let myself get caught up in trying to… steel you to criticism. So much so that I had foolishly… Oh, shit…” His toes went first and his feet rolled uselessly beneath his legs right as they had given their last and crumpled between him and the ground. Lane tumbled into the pile of ash and settled face-first in the dirt, motionless for the time being. The cloud of dust expelled from beneath the man when he fell roused his apprentice’s attention.

“...Lane? Lane!”

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everlastingdreams · 4 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : Playing With Fire chapter 23

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Story Summary: The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.

Chapter Summary: The tunnel’s hold on you becomes stronger as it pushes you towards insanity. Percival and Lancelot begin to understand why the stories claimed that those who enter the tunnels never leave.

Notes: I always end up changing stuff last minute. Wasn’t sure about this chapter. Weird how I go from playful banter to this kind of shit. If you think this has tension between them, just you wait. *wink wink*

Warnings: Uh... angst...? Gore ?

Word count: 2201 words in this chapter.

Chapter: 23/ 33+ something

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Your eyes snapped open at the voice, the soft sound of it brought back many memories.

“Magnolia ?” You couldn't believe your eyes as she stood before you as if she hadn't aged a day since you had last seen her. Was she really here ? How could they be here ??

She stepped closer to you, her eyes filled with concern “Y/n...what's wrong ?”

"I am lost...I am scared. Draegan is here..." A tear fell from your eyes.

Magnolia smiled the cute toothy grin she always had "Don't be scared, y/n. Be brave."

"How are you here ? You..you died.. I couldn't... I couldn't say goodbye..." You flung your arms around her and hugged her tightly against you.

Magnolia did not answer your question "I love you, y/n. I will always be with you, I'll keep you safe." Magnolia stroked your hair as she always did when she hugged you.

"I love you too, Mags." You smiled through the tears as you called her by her nickname.

You felt at peace, then your brow drew together as she had become silent suddenly. You pulled back to look at her face and saw that her eyes did not look right. They looked lifeless.

"Magnolia ?" You asked worried and then you saw it.

Blood was all over her chest, running down to her stomach. Staining her clothes in a dark crimson that almost looked black. Just like the night you had found her in the forest. She collapsed in your arms and you sank with her to your knees under the sudden weight.

“MAGNOLIA ?! NO! HELP ?! SOMEBODY HELP !! PLEASE ?!” You screamed in agony as you held her lifeless body in your lap.

“Please no, please, please... I'm sorry please don't leave me again please..”

You brushed her hair from her face, cupping her face in your hand. You closed your eyes when you accepted that it was no use and sobbed loudly as you kept her in your arms. After a moment you felt that the weight was gone and you quickly opened your eyes. She was gone. You were on your hands and knees as you scanned your surroundings. She was gone again. Lost again. You hugged your arms around your chest not able to stop the sobs coming from you. Tears were flooding form your eyes, was this hell ? Would you ever see a living soul again ??? Was anything real ?? You jumped to your feet when you heard hurried footsteps coming from around the corner. You held your breath for what horrors you would face next.

"Y/n ?" A familiar voice called out to you. You spun around, expecting another dead person to haunt you.

OoooOOOoOOoOOOOooOOOOooOOOOOOOoOooOo

Lancelot froze when he saw you, when he saw the tears streaming from your eyes. You looked at him as if you were seeing a spirit. He noticed how afraid you looked, how you didn't seem completely aware of reality.

"Y/n ?" He said again, far more alarmed now.

The boy stayed at a distance, having seen how strange you were behaving "It's these tunnels ! It's doing this to her ! She's not a fey. She must be hallucinating !"

Lancelot finally understood what was happening, these tunnels were made to protect the fey, not man-bloods. This was what the stories warned about, but they were not just stories. They were a harsh reality and it was affecting you. He slowly approached you, reaching a hand out to you as he did "It's alright, y/n.. calm down.."

You stepped backwards and shook your head. You were shaking badly, feeling like you were trapped in a circle of hell "You're not real.." After all that, you did not believe he was actually there. This was just another trick to torment you.

His brows drew together at your words but he kept getting closer to you "I am real, y/n. These tunnels are distorting your reality."

You closed your eyes, putting your hands over your ears and kept repeating "It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.."

Lancelot wondered what sort of things you must have seen to be in such a state.

"Y/n, look at me. Take my hand. You will see I'm real." He said firmly, attempting to get your attention to him.

You dared to open your eyes, and shakily reached out your hand to the one he held out to you.

What if this wasn't real ? Would you ever see a real person again ?

Your fingers touched his hand. You felt it. You felt that his skin was warm, and you grasped his hand. It felt real and you let out a sob. You took one big step and wrapped your arms around him, you clung to him as if you were clinging to your last bit of sanity. Fearing that if you would let go, he would disappear and something evil might take his place "Please be real... please be real.." You continued to whimper in despair.

Lancelot had no idea how to react to the situation now, your voice was laced with fear and sorrow. You sounded so lost, lost in whatever horrible hallucination you were experiencing before he found you here. Percival looked at him suprised, but he could see that the boy was sad to see you like this as well. It was just as painful for the boy as it was for him to hear how lost you sounded, to see you cry. He slowly put a hand on your back, you were clinging to him but he worried how you would react to this when you would finally regain your senses. Lancelot's was calm, hoping that it would help you calm down as well "Y/n, you're safe. Don't be afraid."

When he felt how badly you were shaking he timidly brought his hand up and placed it on the back of your head. He had no real experience in comforting others, all he could do was hope that his actions would pull you out of your distraught state. A moment went by before he brushed his fingers against your hair in a soothing matter. He looked over at percival who remained at a distance, he could see that the boy was fighting the urge to come nearer. Both of them feared what would happen if another person got closer to you, what if it made things worse ?

It took a while before you started to calm down, all the while you did not let go off him. It was the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the soft brushing of his fingers on the back of your head that slowly brought you back to your senses. The warmth radiating from him felt very real. And he was not disappearing from your grasp. The combination of that was what broke the tunnels hold on you. And when it did, you stopped sobbing, eyes widening when you realised what you were doing. First you had wanted nothing more for this to be real, but now you started to silently panic. Oh gods, were you.. were you really hugging him ?

It was your hands patting his back as if you were testing something that made him aware that you had come to your senses. His hand stilled instantly. Would he... would he have to step away ? Was that a good idea or should he wait until you acted yourself ?

Both of you seemed to struggle with that dilemma. This was awkward...

You decided to speak up, it was you that got yourself into this awkward situation after all "Uhm...I.."

He was now silently panicking as well, what should he do ??

"You were hallucinating.." He stammered the words.

And with that you quickly let go off him and stepped away "I...these...the tunnels they messed with my mind." You gestured to your head and then to him.

A long pause followed.

"Clearly." Pecival was looking at you with wide eyes "Why else would you hug him ?"

Lancelot resisted the urge to glare at the boy for the hidden insult.

You wondered why it was that hugging him made you calm down. But when you came to your senses you were feeling another sort of unease.

You felt terribly nervous "Precisely ! We...uh... should get out of this place. Before it starts to mess with me again."

The boy walked over to you, shoving Goliath's reins back into Lancelot's hands, before taking your hand with his "Better not get lost again, y/n. Don't want him to think you like him or something."

You forced a small smile and avoided looking at Lancelot.

“You two walk ahead of me, or we might never leave this place.” Lancelot told you, his voice sounded strange. Melancholic almost.

You nodded and actually send him a soft smile. He only gave a short nod as he averted his eyes, focusing on the reins in his hands and you swallowed hard. You now regretted for acting like hugging him was a bad thing only because you felt embarrassed. You removed your hand from Percival's and told the boy “Wait here just a moment...”

Percival quirked a brow but shrugged his shoulders.

Lancelot send you an inquisitive look as you walked up to him, he opened his mouth to speak but was silenced when you wrapped your arms around him again. For a moment he feared the tunnels were affecting you again “Y/n ?”

You pulled him closer to you, feeling how he tensed up the moment you had embraced him. You let your head rest against his chest. You needed him to realise that you didn't hate him, that he wasn't a monster or unworthy of human contact or touch. You almost whispered against his chest “I'm sorry, Lancelot. Embracing you was what freed me from this place's hold. It made me feel safe...because I trust you.” you took a deep breath “..Thank you.”

He drew a shuddering breath, realising how he had longed to hear those words from you. You finally trusted him and now you were embracing him. Not because the tunnels were messing with your mind, but out of your own free will. He relaxed in your embrace, no one had held him like this for as long as he could remember. And the fact that it was you doing so made him feel elated.

“If only you would hug me back so it doesn't look like I'm being weird...” You whispered very quietly against him, more to yourself.

A smile tugged at his lips when he could hear it, he could feel you start to tense up. Lancelot knew you were getting uneasy because of his lack of response and he brought up his hand, placing it between your shoulders as he moved you just a little closer to him again. Having you so close to him made him aware that you smelled good. He closed his eyes for a second, resisting the desire to hold you more tightly. It felt as if something inside of him was being restored, but there was also something new growing inside of him. Something he couldn't place.

“Is she hallucinating again ?” Percival interrupted Lancelot's peaceful train of thought.

You snorted at the boy's comment and moved away from Lancelot “No. Not at all. I am very much in my mind right now.”

“Are you sure ?” The boy quirked a brow, having a hard time believing that.

You narrowed your eyes at the boy “Percival. I am not hallucinating. I know you two are real.”

“Weird...” The boy scrunched his nose and quietly commented even more confused, his attention went to the drawings on the wall now.

You were very aware that Lancelot had helped you more then he realised in these tunnels. You felt incredibly grateful and felt like just thanking him was not enough. He had saved you from those horrors, the hug was not enough. Perhaps it was to him, but not to you.

And what happened next caught him completely off-guard.

He had felt how your fingers landed on his jaw and had tilted his head, before he could react you had pressed your lips to his cheek.

He felt rooted to the spot.

It was a quick peck on the cheek out of gratitude and you let go off him immediately after.

“Thank you for coming to find me.” You spoke hastly before walking back to the boy who had been to busy staring at the wall to see it happen.

Lancelot's eyes were blown wide, it happened so fast he almost thought it was a figment of his imagination. He felt a tingling sensation go down his neck and spine.

You and the boy had already started walking again but stopped when you didn't hear Lancelot follow with Goliath.

"Please, don't tell me you're hallucinating too !" Percival called out to Lancelot. If he didn't know these tunnels were safe for fey, Lancelot might have believed that to be true.

Finally he started to follow you and the boy as he tried to get his breathing under control again.

Taglist:

@itsjustjenna @ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @mixedchicaq @boredoomfm @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @lancelotapricot @captainbucky-yt @crystallizedtime @thesneakylittleminx @moonlightaura03

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

#Weeping monk x reader #cursed weeping monk #the weeping monk #lancelot x reader #lancelot x you #weeping monk x you #weepingmonk/reader #Cursed Netflix #cursed #cursed fic #weeping monk fic #lancelot fic #cursed squirrel #cursed lancelot

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multi-fandom-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

The Ghost & The Kitsune. || Jin Sakai ||

A/n: I’m gonna have this take place after the game, not really going into spoilers, just mentioning of Khotun Khan’s death...thats it....also a warning for some light gore.

Also I am keeping a certain character alive.

Summary: When Jin hears a tale form the Musician of a Kitsune slaying mongols he’s less inclined to believe it. Just like all the other tales he has encountered he is suspecting to come upon a man though once he happens upon a hidden Inari shrine with bodies of mongols, the Samurai is shocked to find an injured woman.

Hearing her pleas, the two embark on finding her missing brother though Jin has come to find that the Musician’s tale holds more truth than he would like to admit.

The only thing Jin really had on his mind was to first check on the friends he had made then maybe take a soak in a hot springs before he finally rested. It was a long, hard battle and after he finally killed Khotun Khan he knew his people could finally relax but that did not mean that their were still mongols that remand and its not like he could just forget about those traitorous ronin still running about.

Hearing a shout of his name he had to bite back a groan as he tugged on Kage’s reins. Slipping off his horse he made his way over to the wandering musician. Know doubt he had one of his tales to tell him, wrinkling his nose he gave the man a small bow before he stood tall.

“How can I help you.”

“Lord Sakai! did you hear of the tale of the wandering Kitsunes! People are saying this creature is slaying mongols!” Barking out a laugh the musician shook his head though his expression quickly changed. “They are hunting this one! they will kill her..you must find the Kitsune my Lord!”

Closing his eyes he placed a smile on his face, while he may not believe the man’s tale of Kitsunes, he was not going to ignore a person in need. “Tell me where to go.”

“Follow the foxes! they will lead you to her.”

“Her?”

Just as he was about to get on his horse he turned to give the musician a puzzled expression. “How are you so sure it is a woman?”

“She has been protecting us! Her family has but they are hunting them! Please! you must go now.”

Pulling himself up on Kage, they then took off. Jin’s eyes scanning for the foxes the man mentioned, though once he spotted a flash of red he slipped of his horse chasing after the creature. The little fox glancing behind it’s self making sure it was being followed though Jin slowed once he saw scattered remains of mongol soldiers.

Body parts were strew about, covering his mouth he knelt by once of the bodies. “This was not done by a blade...it looks like claw marks.” Hearing out a cry he quickly rushed towards the sound. Not noticing his surroundings he quickly slipped into a gap as he noticed one of the living mongol soldiers stalking towards an injured woman.

Narrowing his eyes he quickly pulled out an arrow, hitting the man before he could strike. It was once everything seemed to calm down was that he noticed her beauty. She looked like she had leaped out of some painting but the sharp voice seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.

“If you are done staring at me, you can help or leave!”

“I...am terribly sorry Miss.” Embarrassed he quickly made his way over to the injured woman.

Cautiously approaching her, he then knelt down in front of her. Pulling out a few bandages he started to tend to the wounds she held. “I am Lord Sakai I -”

“I know who you are....you are the man that defeated Khotun Khan....thank you for saving my life.”

Biting your tongue you knew you would have been killed or enslaved if he did not show up when he did. “My name is y/n...and I need your help.”

Wrinkling his nose Jin’s protest fell on deaf ears as he watched you stand, with a small grimace you looked up at the man.

“My help can wait, you need some rest....you were badly injured.”Jin quickly caught your form as you stumbled forward.

“I can not rest...they have my brother...they are going to take him...sell him please..he is all I have left.”

Jin didn’t know what it was but he was having trouble turning you down, he did not know what it was but he found out that he just could not say no.

“Fine...but I am taking you back to my compound..it’s not far from here and we can discus more once we arrived.”

Letting out a small laugh, you relaxed in his embrace as he carried you out off the cove you were hiding in. “So demanding...you are lucky you are handsome...Lord Sakai.”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Jin cleared out his throat as he slipped onto Kage. Giving once last glance at where you were hiding the man finally noticed that you were in a small cove underneath the feet of a large Inari statue, how did he miss the shrine? He would have to come back later to pay his respect’s but now he was focused on getting the help you need. “Please...call me Jin.”

“As you wish...Jin.”

It did not take long for him to get back to his home with the help of Kage but the man was worried due to you falling silent on the way back. Slipping off his horse he rushed up the steps.

“Yuna! help!”

Hearing his shouts, the young woman met him half way. Seeing the concerned look on the Lord’s face she then looked down spotting you in his arms. Frowning she pressed her hand to your head though stepping back she took a breath in. “She’s warm, bring her inside.”

Listing to Yuna, Jin stayed on her heels then placed you down on the mat. Frowning he tore his gaze away from your heavily breathing form as his friend started to care for you.

“Take care of her.”

Glancing up, Yuna gave him a nod. “Of course Jin.”

It was hours when Yuna finally emerged, clearing out her throat she made her way towards him. “She’s awake but not happy...if I were you then I’d see her right now.” she states.

Closing his eyes Jin let out a small laugh as he bowed to the woman in front of him. “Thank you Yuna.”

Giving him a smile, she slipped down the halls as he slipped into the room where you were kept.

Clearing out his throat, he watched you slowly stand up and for a moment he could have sworn he saw tails flickering behind you but with a blink they were gone.

“Must be a trick of the light.” he muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing...are you well? are you sure you do not need some rest.”

Sighing a small smile tugged at the edge of your lips, you were already strapping a sword to your waist. “I am fine...now lets get going.”

“Is that?”

“Yours...I suppose? It’s not your fathers blade but if we are going to rescue my brother then I need something to defend myself.” You state and with a reluctant sigh Jin turned around.

“Fine...just tell me before you do something like that.”

Laughing, you gave him a smile though leaning over you gave his cheek a kiss. “Thank you for helping me.”

Fumbling for a response Jin cleared his throat, his cheeks already turning a bright red. “Lets go.”

Rolling your eyes you were still smiling, it was cute seeing the Lord get so flustered though you couldn’t focus on how attractive the Lord might be. Not when you had your brother to find.

“As you wish..Jin...and my name is Y/n.”

Sighing he smiled for a moment as you followed him out of his home then onto his horse and with a small whistle a white horse rushed over to you. Biting your lip you were unsure on how the creature might react to you but with a deep breath you managed to slip on his back.

“Show me where he was last taken.”

“Or course.” Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes then nudged the horse rushing off into the direction.

You were starting to give up hope on finding him, that you were going to be the last of your kind.

“Brother.” Blinking back some tears you tensed for a moment feeling a hand on your shoulder.

“Please do not cry....we will find him. I promise I will not stop.” Jin whispered giving you a smile.

Taking a deep breath in you let out a laugh glancing down at your lap though your eyes went wide once you managed to catch his scent in the wind you road off with Jin calling out for you.

“Y/n! what is it.”

“It’s my brother! I know where he is.” Pushing the horse to move faster, you nearly slipped off the saddle once you spotted your younger brother. His small frame shaking in a cage as the mongols started to jab at him with the spears the held.

Snarling your fingers clutched the reins as Jin slowed to a spot near you. “We must approach them cautiously...they could still kill him.”

Eye’s flashing a deep gold for a moment, your lips pulled back into a snarl and Jin was shocked to see a pair of fangs. “Their will be death but it will not be my brother.”

You were off the horse in a flash then suddenly you were surrounded in smoke and where you once stood their was now a pure white fox no not a fox a Kitsune. You had for tails and they were moving erratically and with a blink of an eye you were gone.It did not take long for Jin to hear the screams, closing his eyes he couldn’t believe that the musician was right all along and while part of him want to run away he knew that he could not just abandon you. Gritting his teeth he pulled out his blade as he rushed down to where the remaining mongols where.

Blocking an arrow meant for you, he quickly turned his attention to where one of the soldiers was going to stab the young boy. Letting out a growl of his own he quickly sliced the mans arm off before stabbing him in the chest. Continuing the battle he only slowed then put his sword away once he saw that they were all dead.

Seeing the familiar smoke surround your body, he glanced away once he noticed that the cloths were missing. Turning away from you, he made his way towards Kage. Pulling a blanket out of his saddle bag, he watched as you break the lock then tug the boy into your arms.

Your skin was covered in blood though it wasn’t until his eyes finally focused on your backside where he noticed a pair of tails. They were white as snow, minus the blood that managed to get soaked up in the fur.Wrinkling his nose he slowly stepped closer to you was he placed the blanket over your shoulders, covering your body.

Glancing up at Jin you thanked him before you turned your attention back to your little brother, the little boy crying as he held on tightly to you.

“Onēsan! I’m sorry for running off! I was scared.”

Pushing down your own feelings you knew you had to stay strong for him, rubbing his back you were thankful for the blanket that Jin had given you. “Shh it’s okay Masami. You did nothing wrong, you were so brave.”

You hated feeling his tears against your skin but you were just happy that he was okay, feeling him sniffle it broke your heart seeing those big eyes filled with tears. “Onēsan! where are we gonna live?”

“Hush..let me worry about that.”

“What does he mean?” Jin frowned as he clutched his sword tightly in his hand.

Frowning you continued to calm the little boy keeping your gaze locked on Jins. “After my parents...” Pausing for a moment you sighed. “The mongols burned our home....their are so little of our kind. We’re spread out....it does not matter. I will find a place for us to live.”

“That is unacceptable you can stay with me...in my home.” Jin quickly corrected himself.Looking up at him in shock you did not know how to respond.

“I...are you sure.”

“It would be my honor.” Jin bowed to you. “You are a Kitsune? if it was not for your kin then I would not be alive right now.”

Sniffling, you gave him a weak smile, holding onto your brother. The tails already vanish. “Thank you...Lord Sakai.”

“Of course Miss Y/n.”

Kneeling down in front of the boy Jin gave him a smile. “Let us get you home.”

It was a long ride back to Jin’s home but you were just happy to have your brother back. He fell asleep rather quickly, the little boy was clinging to Jin the whole ride but while your brother slept you knew you had to clean yourself off and as you made your way towards the hot springs you couldn’t help but let your thoughts drift off to Jin.

It has been a year since you’ve meet Jin Sakai, a year since the man saved your life and helped you save your brothers and a year since he has kept your secret of you and your brother being a Kitsune.

You enjoyed the time you kept with Jin Sakai, he was a kind man. Had a good heart and the more time you’ve spent with him the more you were starting to realize your feelings for him and it was clear to you on how much Masami cared for Jin with him already calling him Nīsan.

“Y/n.” Pulled from your thoughts you turned around to find the very man you were thinking of.

“Ah Jin...how are you this lovely morning?”

Lips pulling in for a small smile he cleared out his throat, you could have sworn the man was blushing. “I am...well...but I want to...want to know if you would like to come on a walk...with me?”

Letting out a laugh, you gave him a smile giving him a small bow. “I will be honored too walk with you Jin.”

The man seemed to visibly relax, a full smile formed on his face as he held out his arm for you to take. Once you looped your arm through his you two were off. The peaceful silence was nice but you wanted to talk to him, you liked hearing his voice.

“Y/n...may I ask you something.”

“Oh? of course.” You were worried about what he might ask, it could be anything. Biting your lip you then turned your attention on the red falling leaves, seeing them always seemed to calm your nerves.

“I wanted to ask....if you like the man that I have become...I’m not...I wasn’t like what I used to be. I was an honorable Samurai but when the mongols came...I had to resort...to unsavory measures. He had the chance to inform the Shogun...but he didn’t.”

Biting your lip you slowed your pace then placed your hand against his cheek. “Your Uncle did not inform them because he know’s you are a good man Jin. You care about your people, he did not tell them because he love’s you.” Lowering your gaze you could feel your heart slamming against your chest. “Jin...may I ask you something.”

Eye’s softening, Jin lent into your palm. Your hand felt so warm against his skin. He did not remember how long it’s been since he has been touched like this, he could listen to your voice all day. “Of course you can y/n.”

Dropping your hands you had to take a deep breath in, you needed to make sure that you weren’t going crazy. Dropping your hand from his face you nervously played with the sleeve of your kimono. “Did you...ever remember playing with a little girl in the forest....or a white fox.”

Jin frowned as he searched his memory, he had a few happy memories when he was a child. “I do remember...playing with a little girl my age...my mother thought she was an imaginary friend.” He snorted at the memory though you hated seeing the sadness in his eyes. “The last time I saw her was before my father found my...sick in the forest...she would stay by my side every night...I do miss her”

Feeling a few tears slip down your cheeks you quickly turned your face away. “I am happy that you were found Jin.”

Heart clenching tightly, Jin did not know if he could laugh or cry at this revelations. “That was you?”

Clearing out your throat you gave him a small nod. “It was.”

“You saved my life....why did you leave?” Grasping your hand gently, you weren’t sure that you could look into his eyes since you were scared with what you might see.

“My father thought it would be best...out kind was already being killed...he was just trying to protect me.”

Shaking his head Jin then pulled you to his chest, holding you close the man pressed his lips to the side of your head gently. “You are here now, that is all that matters.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“How could I ever hate...the woman I love.”

“Jin.” Smiling through your tears you stood on your toes pressing your lips against his. It took a moment for the kiss to register in Jin’s mind but it did not take long for him to return the kiss, his hands moving to the small of your back he hugged you closer to his chest.

Breaking the kiss you then rested your head against his chest, a smile on your lips. “I love you too Jin.”

Wrinkling your nose, you looked around the room for your youngest child. You knew the little one had to be close. She tended to be anywhere her brothers would go though most of the time her older siblings would run off to train with Yuna or play with Taka since her tiny legs would managed to follow.

“Yuriko! no more hiding! you need your bath!.” Taking a deep breath in you heard light giggling then the next thing you knew a tiny black fox was jumping it you. Sighing you rolled your eyes as a smile tugged at your lips easily catching her in your arms.

“Change back..now.”

Giving your daughter a stern look, it was not until she heard her fathers voice that the little fox changed back. “Listen to your mother Yuriko.”

“Papa!”

Smiling, Jin slipped into the room as he quickly caught his child. She was already looking so much like him, her black hair always tied up thanks to Yuna and her brown eyes holding so much love.

It didn’t take long for two boys to slip in, one two years older than the other one. Though both of them bickering, the young boy was taking after his uncle Masami, with unruly brown hair and hazel eyes while the oldest took after you. He could see so much of you in his eldest son, a responsible boy that he would be proud for him to take over one day.

“Tell Ige that he can not come with me, Taka and Masami!”

Jin sighed as he dropped his shoulders already feeling a headache forming. “Hachirobei...” Doing his best to warn his son while still holding his daughter he was trying to figure out his next step until he heard his Uncles voice break through.

“Jin...I will happily take Hachirobei off your hands.”

“Ojīchan!” The three children shouted as the two boy’s rushed to see their grandfather. The little girl that was sitting on Jin’s shoulders slipped down freeing his hair that was tied on top of his head.

“Ah”

Fighting back a laughter, you walked over to your husband fixing his hair as Shimura did his best to keep the children in line. While the boys easily listened it was your little girl that was the one climbing over him. “I have seen you work so much these past few weeks..I think it’s time that you and your wife enjoy sometime together.

Trying his best to walk over to the man he called his son he handed him a folded paper. “This was where your father would take your mother.” Smiling he tipped his head to the young man. “I think you too would like it.”

Jin let out a sigh of relief as he glanced over his shoulders at you. He knew you deserved some time away from the children. You’ve done so much for them and it was harder due to them being part Kitsune. “We will...thank you...father.”

Placing your hand on top of his you returned the smile to Shimura. “Thank you for this.”

Nodding to both of you, Shimura cleared out his throat as he straightened his form. “Children...say goodbye to your parents. They will be gone for the next few days.”

You two boys seemed fine, while you could see that familiar sadness that Jin would do his best to hide as they made their way towards you. “We will be back to before you know it.” Placing a small kiss on their heads as they said goodbye to both you and Jin. It was your little girl that was having the hardest time with your sudden departure.

Tears swelled up in her brown eyes as she reached out for you and Jin. “No! Mama! Papa! “

You knew Jin would change his mind, he never liked seeing Yuriko cry. He would do anything for her. Just as he was about to take his little one form Shimura’s arms you heard the familiar voice of Yuna. Easily scooping the little girl from her grandfathers arms she started to shush her.

“Now now Yuriko! you don’t have to cry. They will be back soon, but when they are gone it means that we can play together more...and no silly lesson’s.” She teased as Yuriko let out a small laugh.

Relaxing your shoulders you let your fingers weave into Jin’s silently thanking your friend.

“Now shouldn’t you two be heading off.”

Turning to Jin your gave your ever growing family a small bow before turning to face Yuna once last time. “Make sure the boys don’t break Taka’s arm again.”

Snorting Yuna shrugged her shoulders. “It was his fault....but I promise.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, Jin tugged you towards the stables pleased with a chance of getting some alone time with the woman he loved. He just hoped you be a little gentle this time, he never liked trying to come up with an excuse to his children and Shimura on how he got the scratches on his back.

Though seeing your eyes flicker gold and spotting the hazy outline of your tails the man knew he was in for a long night though he couldn’t be happier about that.

#ghost of tsushima #ghost of tsushima Jin Sakai #jin sakai #jin sakai x reader #one shot #one shots

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gloriainalbis · 4 years ago

Text

Strangers

Part 2 - Anti-Social Behavior (S1E1)

Nathan Young x Reader Words: 6.2k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, drugs, gore, death Songs: Beat on the Brat - Ramones Shoplifters of the World Unite - The Smiths (And also, for shits and giggles…) Somebody Got Murdered - The Clash

“So we will share this road we walk And mind our mouths and beware our talk”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3

The walk to the community center for your second day is brisk but significantly more enjoyable than being forced to listen to your father’s chastising. As you approach the group gathered by a new swath of graffiti on the side of the building, a window opens to your left and out climbs Nathan, who jumps to the ground and winces as the roll-up metal covering slams back down after him. “Nathan?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “Ah!” He whips around to greet you with a guilty smile, clearly surprised. “Y/n! Good morning, I hope?” He starts walking with you to join the rest of the group. “Yeah, but what are you doin’ here?” “I have my reasons,” he explains vaguely, stretching his arms up and groaning as if he’s just gotten out of bed. He then pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his teeth, completely failing to notice the giant red letters spelling out ‘I’M GOING TO KILL YOU’ as you walk past them.

“This is a joke,” Curtis exclaims as you approach. “Did one of you do this?” He turns to look at you especially, and you suspect he overheard you yesterday telling Nathan and Kelly how you got your ASBO. “Hey, I’m all for street art and everything, but death threats aren’t really my scene.” “Death threat?” Nathan spins around until he sees the words. “Oh, well would you look at that!” He turns back to the group, glancing at each of you as if looking for an explanation. “Don’t look at me, ‘cuz I didn’t do it,” Kelly snaps at him. “I’ll tell you who did it, it’s that Banksy prick,” he offers. Alisha rolls her eyes, as do a few of the others. “There’s a hidden meaning. It’s like that monkey policeman with the banana and the Tesco’s bag.” “Maybe someone wants to kill us,” Simon speaks softly, looking uncomfortable at Nathan, who’s put an arm around him for some unknown reason. “Why would anyone want to kill us?” Kelly points out. You assume the threat was directed at the community center, not at you six specifically, but don’t really care to speak up. You’d probably be spending the day cleaning it off, so what does it matter who it’s meant for? “Come on, you lot, let’s get changed,” Tony directs, walking up suddenly. “Have you seen this?” Curtis points to the graffiti. Again. “Someone’s takin’ the piss.” “Yeah, it’s terrible, isn’t it? All this anti-social behavior.” Tony turns to look at you all suggestively. “Oh, is he having a dig at us?” Nathan smirks, mumbling through his cigarette. Alisha’s phone begins to ring and Tony jumps, instantly bursting with anger. “Right! That’s it, all of you, just give me your phones! No one’s making any more calls today. Now, come on!” He turns to Alisha first. “Uh-huh,” she scoffs. “Are you allowed to take out phones?” He grabs it out of her hands regardless as she giggles and snaps a picture of him. Kelly and Alisha lock eyes and snicker. Curtis gives his phone up willingly, Kelly tries to ignore him, but Tony grabs it out of her pocket, and Simon gives his up as well. He turns to Nathan. “I’m expecting a call from my mum,” he tries to reason, but Tony rips it from his hand. Nathan gapes at him, affronted. “Okay, take a message.” Then Tony turns to you. You make a point to look him in the eyes and raise your eyebrows to distract him as you press your phone into Nathan’s hand. You see him glance at you in confusion before catching on and pocketing it. “Haven’t got one,” you explain casually, holding up your empty hands. You can swear Tony growls as he reaches out to feel your pockets. “Damn, is that even legal?” you half-whisper. To your right, Nathan bites his lip to keep from smiling and giving you away. It works. Tony huffs and lumbers back to the community center. Curtis flips up his hood and follows suit. “Wanker,” Kelly sneers as she strolls past Tony. Nathan watches to make sure they leave. “That was brilliant!” He gushes as soon as Tony’s out of earshot, handing you your phone. “It was nothing,” you brush off, starting to follow behind the others. “You can use it to phone your mum if you’d like.” “Oh, no, that’s alright.” He looks away, staring at his feet as he walks. “Are you sure?” you ask. You hadn’t snuck the phone past Tony only for him, but it was, you know, a good upside. And you aren’t sure what other opportunities he would have to use it, now that Tony thought he’d taken all the phones. “Yeah, she won’t call.” You can tell that he’s trying to sound like he doesn’t care. But, you’re learning this quickly, Nathan isn’t exactly the best liar. “I won’t ask.” You wonder what the situation is, but don’t want to pry. Nathan smiles. Back at the locker rooms, everyone begins changing into their jumpsuits. Alisha situates herself in front of the mirror and begins to fiddle. She pops up her collar, undoes the top few buttons of her jumpsuit, and combes at her hair, fluffing it up. Kelly, having already changed, is lighting what looks to be either a hand-rolled cigarette or a blunt. “Is he allowed to take our phones?” Nathan muses. “He’s probably using them to call one of those sex lines.” Alisha giggles. “Those sex lines will eat your credit,” Curtis comments. “Call them a lot, do you?” Alisha raises an eyebrow. Kelly passes her the cigarette and she watches herself take a few draws from it in the mirror. Nathan continues with his disturbing ruminations, “He’s out there feeling himself on our phones, naked, masturbating.” “Now why would he do that?” Curtis questions, quite sensibly. “Because he can,” Nathan responds. “That’s quite the image,” you groan, trying desperately not to imagine it. “Oh, I’ll give you an image.” Nathan winks, pulling off his shirt. You roll your eyes and look away, leaning against the door of your locker. Glancing to the back of the room, you wonder where Simon’s run off to. You thought you’d seen him standing by the buckets a few moments ago. “Do you want some of this?” Alisha holds out the cigarette, tucked between her blue manicured fingers, to Curtis, who refuses. “Give it here, come on,” Nathan says as he walks past her and she hands it to him. As you grab a bucket and follow him out, you notice that he has crossed the ‘pay’ from ‘community payback’ on the back of his jumpsuit to make it say ‘community blowback’ instead. You smile and chuckle to yourself. Curtis appears to be the only one actually trying to remove those giant red letters from the wall, scrubbing determinedly while the rest of you just sort of brush at them and hope they disappear. Alisha isn’t even working. She’s unzipped and removed the entire upper half of her jumpsuit to reveal a bikini top and is sunning herself on a nearby table. “Yeah, you just relax, innit? Take it easy,” Curtis grumbles. “Someone’s just going to write something else on there tonight,” she retorts. “They make us do these bullshit jobs, wearing these bullshit orange jumpsuits. They can suck my dick.” You have to admit, she has a point. “Nice,” he looks her up and down and smirks coquettishly. “Feel free to check out my tits, yeah,” she encourages, blowing a kiss and looking down at him smokily from behind her lowered sunglasses. You look back at your designated section of furiously bright red paint. Wishing it would just go away, you lean down to get more soap on your brush, and when you stand back up, your section of the wall is spotless. You stumble backward, bewildered. “Guys?” you gape, trying to catch their attention, pointing to the bare wall. But when everyone turns to look, it’s gone back to normal, the bold lettering mocking you. “What?” Kelly asks, scrunching up her face in what looks like confusion and concern. You rush back to the wall, running your fingers across the paint, and they come back dusted with red. It’s real. “I-” everyone looks at you like you’re crazy, and they’re probably right. “It’s nothing.” A few moments later, Kelly stops scrubbing. “You know after the storm, did any of you feel like dead weird?” She sounds serious. “Yeah. I had a strange tingling sensation in my anus,” Nathan quips. You roll your eyes and turn to her, “I think I’ve been seein’ things,” you admit. “Yeah, I’ve been hearin’ shit,” she agrees before spinning around to address Simon, seemingly out of the blue. “What, did you feel weird?” “You don’t want to hear about my anus?” Nathan calls, clutching his hands to his butt. “Do you really need to ask the question?” you hear Curtis say from behind you. You shove Nathan and turn back around to pay attention to Simon and Kelly, ignoring his cry of indignation. “Something happened,” Simon begins quietly. “What’s that? Squeak up!” Nathan chides. “Something happened to me,” he repeats louder. “Are you a virgin? Hi-hoooooy!” Nathan jokes, and you contemplate punching him again. Kelly does it for you, turning to yell, “Shut up!” which effectively shuts him down, before returning to Simon. “What was it?” He gulps and you can see the nervousness churning behind his eyes. “It’s nothing.” Kelly scrunches her face up and scowls, running past you to shove Nathan. “What was that for?” he calls after her. She turns to you as she goes, “Didn’t you hear that? It was disgustin’.” You hadn’t, and you have no idea what she’s referring to. So you shrug at Nathan, who looks suitably chastened, and return to your scrubbing. Later, you’re all starting to congregate around the couches in the main entrance hall. Kelly still hasn’t returned, but the letters are mostly gone and you’re all angling for a break. Alisha is taking up an entire couch section to herself, sitting sideways with her feet up, and Simon is sequestered in the alcove of a doorway. You’re sitting on a larger couch across from them, watching Nathan beat up a vending machine to try and get a free soda. He holds one up, triumphant, as you slow clap and he takes a bow. Curtis walks up with a stack of empty buckets under his arm. “When I was in sixth form, you came to my school. You gave this big talk about athletics and all your medals and that.” Alisha says to Curtis with a tone that entreats him to elaborate on his story. Nathan rolls out behind him in a wheelchair, soda in hand, “So I’m guessin’ you’re not going to the Olympics.” “Funny,” Curtis snaps sarcastically at the obvious jab. “I heard he was dealing crack,” Alisha chimes with a quirk of her eyebrow. Curtis scowls. “What? I wasn’t dealing crack.” “No, no, the papers said it was steroids,” Nathan adds, opening his soda with a hiss. “That stuff with shrivel your dick,” Alisha lies down on her seat. Curtis takes a few steps forward, looking at them insistently. “It wasn’t steroids. I’m not a cheat. That stuff in the papers was bullshit.” “Yeah? So what was it, then?” Alisha presses. Nathan raises his eyebrows. Curtis takes a few hesitant seconds to reply. “I got caught with a little bit of coke. Alright? I messed up one time.” “No one gets community service for possession,” Alisha holds her arms up, asking him to explain. He scoffs. “If it was anyone else, they’d have got a caution. I get two hundred hours community service and a two year back from athletics. They said, ‘cuz of my profile, they needed to send a message.” You feel bad for Curtis for being treated differently because of his success. It doesn't seem fair, bringing someone so far down when they’d come so far and were so close to reaching their goals. “You let yourself down,” Nathan taunts, grinning deviously. Your eyes widen, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. “You let the kids down. You let your parents down-” Curtis fumes and stews in silence before suddenly bursting, launching forward at Nathan “Shut the fuck up! All I ever did was train! You know nothing! I shouldn’t even fuckin’ be here!” If only Nathan could just shut up for one second. “You can’t hit someone in a wheelch-” Nathan’s eyes flash wide open as a piece of duct tape appears over his mouth. Alisha and Simon sit up straighter, pulled to attention. You sit there horrified, realizing that for the first time that you definitely aren’t the only one seeing this. Nathan points to Curtis in accusation. “It wasn’t me, mate.” He holds his arms up, taking a few fearful steps back. You feel sick to your stomach, too frozen in place to say anything. Nathan lets out a muffled scream and tries to pull off the duct tape, scrambling at it with his fingers. It crumbles into his hands like dust before disappearing completely. You let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heart continues to thump away in your chest. “Who was that?” Nathan yells, jumping out of the wheelchair, which rolls backward until it hits the wall. You gulp. “I- I think I did it?” “Well, what the fuck for?! And how?” He rears on you, anger and confusion written plainly on his face. “I have no idea,” you admit honestly. Alisha scoffs and giggles, somehow finding the situation funny. “Do you wanna know what I got done for?” “Not really,” Nathan remarks, turning his head to glare at you before plopping himself back down in the wheelchair. That sends a pang of guilt through your chest. You don’t really know what you did, or how you did it. Alisha motions for you to come closer and you all gather to sit in audience before her, “Me and my mate Chloe, we’re having cocktails in this bar, yeah? An’ she’s hassling me, ‘cuz she wants to go to this party. Chloe is on one because she thinks Jack is doing Lucy. A total slut fuck. So we get in my car. I drive us to the party.” “Nathan?” you whisper, poking his arm to get his attention. “We go into one of the rooms, yeah? Jack’s not doing Lucy, he’s doing Ellie. She is a proper slut.” “What?” He still looks pissed. “I’m sorry. Something really weird’s going on.” You hope he believes you, he seems pretty fun, if a bit vulgar, and you aren’t even sure of how you’d screwed it up. “Chloe freaks. I’m driving us back into town. Chloe’s all like ‘Oh, I feel sick.’ I’m like ‘Don’t puke in my car. Do not puke in my car.’” “Alright.” He gives you a small smile. “Really?” You didn’t think it would be that easy, but maybe he remembered what Kelly said earlier. “That’s when the police pull us over. I’m already banned from driving, so I am like ‘Fuuuck.’” “Yeah, no hard feelings.” He reaches down to ruffle the top of your hair, weirdly enough, but it fits pretty well with what you know of Nathan so far. “This cop, yeah? He hands me the breathalyzer and I’m like ‘Do I suck, or blow?’” Alisha runs her tongue along the bottom edge of her water bottle before licking the cap and putting her lips around it, slowly working up and down. “It’s insane, I’m totally workin’ it, yeah?” She licks up the bottle’s side before sticking the entire top in her mouth again and bobbing her head back and forth, in and out, pursing her lips as she picks up speed before slowly and carefully pulling it back out. “Now, I don’t know if this cop is gay or what, but he tells me I’m four times over the limit. It’s bullshit. I didn’t even want to go to the party.” You’re a little grossed out, but all the boys are gaping at this point. Just then, the front doors fly open with a bang and Kelly tumbles into the room, scrambling to her feet to lock it, screaming, “He’s gonna kill us!” You scramble backward before jumping up from your seat on the floor. Nathan spins around in his chair, clapping. “Nice entrance. Very dramatic.” But Kelly looks distraught and shaken, and you don’t think she’s exaggerating anything. “The probation worker’s gone mental. He just attacked me! Something really weird is happening. I’m hearin’ these voices. It’s like I can hear what people are thinking!” she explains hastily. “Have you been sniffing glue?” Alisha scolds, tilting her head to the side in mock sympathy. Kelly raises her voice, practically yelling in desperation, “The storm, the lightning! It’s done something to us!” “Okay,” Nathan speaks up. “If you can hear our thoughts, what am I thinking now?” “You think it’s bullshit?!” Kelly exclaims. “‘Course I think it’s bullshit!” he snaps back. “You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that.” “Why are you in a wheelchair?” she asks tentatively, just now noticing it. “It was the storm!” You roll your eyes as he messes with her. “The strange tingling sensation in my anus has spread to my body and now I can’t feel my legs.” She realizes he’s joking and kicks him “I’m serious!” “Ow! Jesus!” You decide to take a gamble at something. Kelly, you think, the storm did something to me too. “What, you, too?” She asks, turning to face you. “Yeah,” you nod. “It happened just a few minutes ago. I wanted Nathan to shut up and then duct tape just appeared over his mouth. And it happened with the graffiti earlier, I wanted it to disappear, and then it did, for a second.” Her eyes light up and she turns to the rest of the group. “See? I ain’t lyin’!” “Well then, what do you mean the probation worker attacked you?” Curtis takes a few steps towards her. Alisha doesn’t believe either of you, “This does sound like complete shit.” “He’s out there and he chased me!” She insists, frantically pointing to the door. “Something’s happened to me, too,” Simon speaks up. “Did you pop your cherry?” Nathan teases, still not taking any of this seriously. “Oh, we’re all very happy for you!” Simon ignores him and addresses everyone else. “Earlier on, when we were in the locker room… I was invisible. I turned invisible.” “So she’s psychic, you can make hallucinations or whatever, and you can turn invisible?” Curtis speaks, trying to make sense of everything. He chuckles. “Yeah, that seems likely.” “Did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?” Nathan questions, leaning forward in his chair. “Yes!” you exclaim, turning to Simon. “You were standing by the buckets and then you weren’t! I wondered where you’d run off to.” Simon nods, spurred on by your admission, “You were all there.” Alisha scoffs, still not convinced, “I think we might have noticed you vanishing into thin air.” “I was standing right there and you couldn’t see me,” he insists, a sad, almost betrayed look crossing his face. “Alright.” Nathan puts on a determined look and wheels over to Simon. “Go on, then. Do it. Turn invisible.” Simon tenses and grunts, trying to force it. You glare at Nathan for putting him on the spot like this, and you feel a pang of guilt for generally encouraging his antics. “Oh, my god!” Nathan exclaims. “He’s disappeared!” You roll your eyes and groan, feeling worse by the second. Simon, however, seems to believe him, holding out a hand in front of Nathan’s eyes. “Can’t you see me?” “No,” Nathan gasps before throwing his empty soda can at Simon’s head and proclaiming, “you’re invisible!” “You prick! What’d you do that for?” you ask, miffed, but he ignores you. “You all are hilarious, really. Keep taking that medication.” He starts wheeling towards the door, but Kelly jumps in front of him and grabs his armrests. “Don’t go out there, he will kill you!” she yells. “Of course he will, ‘cuz he’s such a badass,” Nathan retorts sarcastically. “Don’t!” She screams, with angry and fearful tears in her eyes. Curtis just walks past her to the door, scoffing in disbelief, “Come on, this is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” “No!!” Kelly shrieks, throwing Curtis out of the way as the door swings open. You hear a bellowing roar as a metal tube flies through the open door and into Kelly’s head, spraying streams of blood up and down the wall beside her. “Kelly!” you cry in shock. Her expression slackens and her eyes go blank as she slumps against the wall and tumbles to the floor, dead. Tony bursts into the room with a sharp, red-stained tube in his hands. Another scream tears at your throat as you feel a hand on your arm, Nathan’s, pulling you away and setting you running down the hall. . . . . . “Can’t you see me?” Simon gasps, holding out a hand in front of Nathan’s eyes and appearing to believe him. “No,” Nathan gaspes before throwing his empty soda can at Simon’s head and proclaiming, “you’re invisible!” “You prick! What’d you do that for?” you ask, miffed, but he ignores you. “You all are hilarious, really. Keep taking that medication.” He starts wheeling towards the door, but Kelly jumps in front of him and grabs onto his armrests. “Don’t go out there, he will kill you!” she yells. “Of course he will, ‘cuz he’s such a badass,” Nathan retorts sarcastically. “Don’t!” She screams, with angry and fearful tears in her eyes. Curtis jolts forward, fear gripping his expression “She’s telling the truth.” Nathan looks absolutely delighted. “And you know this how? I suppose you’re psychic now, too?” Curtis’ entire demeanor has completely shifted. He’s breathing heavily now out of shock or fear, or because of something you can’t quite understand. He speaks urgently and uneasily, “All this. It’s already happened once. I opened the door, the probation worker, he killed you.” He points to Kelly. “You were right there. You were dead. Everything froze. You were all just standing there. Time went backwards.” “What are you saying?” Alisha pipes up. “What, you turned back time?” Nathan rises from his seat, eyeing Curtis curiously, “This just gets better by the second.” He strides to the door. “Everything happened again, exactly the same. I’m telling you, don’t open that door!” Curtis insists, following after him. You run. “Nathan, no!” you scream, reaching the door just as he puts a hand on it. A giant lock and chain appears around the handles. He gives you an odd glance before yanking the door open regardless, and the chains turn into dust and disappear. You couldn’t see what he was looking at, but an expression of terror sweeps across Nathan’s face and he closes and locks the door in a flurry of jittery movements. “He’s right, the probation worker’s gone mental!” he gasps. Tony slams into the other side of the door and your heart leaps out of your chest. You only catch a glimpse of his hulking, dark frame silhouetted against the frosted glass before Nathan shrieks and pulls you away to join the rest of the group, who are all standing together. “Maybe he’s on crystal meth,” Alisha tries to reason, but the waver in her voice gives away her fear. “I mean, that stuff makes you crazy. My friend Chloe did it, she nearly shagged her brother. And he’s really ugly” “Enough about Chloe!” you exclaim. “It sounds like she’s made some really poor life choices and I’d rather not follow in her footsteps!” Simon gasps, realizing something, “The graffiti. ‘I’m going to kill you,” he wrote it.” “What did I say? I said there was a hidden meaning! Or not.” Nathan retorts. Realizing his hand is still clasped around your arm, he drops it awkwardly and looks away. “Did anything happen to you?” Kelly asks, turning to face Alisha. “No, we should call the police!” she suggests adamantly. Simon shakes his head. “He took our phones, he’s got all our phones.” Nathan turns to look at you and you smile, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Well, not all of them.” You hold it up for the rest of the group to see, turning it on to find- “Fuck! I don’t have reception in this shithole.” “Let’s get out of here, then,” Curtis offers. “Out the back way, come on!” Nathan calls, moving down the hall and motioning for everyone to follow him. But as he turns the corner, he slips, crying out and falling to the floor with a loud squelch and a squeak. Nathan is sprawled on the floor in a pool of thick, stagnant blood. Your stomach churns as you try to keep yourself from retching. “Is that blood?!” Kelly screams. Realization washes over Nathan and he scrambles to his feet, “Oh, fuck! Jesus Christ!” He gapes at the dark red smears coating his hands and gags, wiping them desperately on his jumpsuit. “Get it off me, Jesus!” It’s then that you notice the locker. Blood oozes from each vent and out onto the tile below, trickling down the front of the door like a morbid waterfall. Curtis approaches carefully before gingerly opening the door. Gary’s smashed in head lurches forward and you all jump, screaming as it lolles back and forth. His jumpsuit is stained red in various gruesome places and his body is sitting at odd, gut-wrenching angles in the tiny locker. Blood has dripped down from his ears, nose, and mouth, and predominantly from a gaping, disgusting wound on the left side of his neck. “It’s Gary,” Simon murmurs. “I did wonder what had happened to him,” Nathan mumbles, inching closer and peering at the contorted, lifeless form before you. It is undoubtedly the worst thing you have ever seen, but you can’t take your eyes off of it, the horror is all-encompassing. “He’s gonna kill us,” Alisha whispers, on the verge of tears. “Turn back time,” Nathan says to Curtis. “Stop this happening.” “I don’t know how it works!” He exclaims frantically. “Oh, that’s great, that’s really useful!” Nathan chides. Curtis ignores him, instead turning to comfort Alisha “Come on, don’t look at him.” You wish the body would disappear, and some dark sheets appear to cover everything. You know it’s temporary, but you just want to be able to look away. Curtis puts his hand on Alisha’s arm and gasps. “I’ve got to have sex with you right now! You’re so beautiful.” He grabs her shoulder and pulls her closer to him. “What’s up with him?” Nathan calls in confusion. Alisha is screaming and trying to pull her arm out of Curtis’s grip. “Let’s go, let’s do it now!” He reaches his hand into his pants and you turn away, disgusted. Your mind screams at you to do something, to pull him off of her, but you have no idea what’s happening and you freeze. “Get off me, you freak!” Alisha finally yanks her arm out of his grasp and stumbles back. “What?” Curtis asks, completely unaware of what just occurred, of what he said and tried to do. Alisha reels back an arm, preparing to slap him. He grabs it out of the air and his skin touches hers again, suddenly groaning in a way that makes your skin crawl. “You’re so hot! I’m gonna bone you, I’m gonna shag you senseless!” “Let go!” she yells, stumbling backward out of his grip. The look on her face is confused and horrified, and a thousand other emotions you had hoped never to see on anyone you knew. “What did I do?” Curtis asks. Kelly speaks up, “Uh, you said you were gonna shag her?” “And you were gettin’ your chap out,” Nathan points. “Shut up!” Curtis gasps, messing with the waistline of his pants. “It’s when you were touching her,” Simon realizes. Alisha looks down at her shaky hands before reaching to touch the side of Simon’s neck. He jerks up, gasping. “I’m so hard for you. I want to rip your clothes off and piss on your tits,” Simon growls. Alisha rips her hand from him and jumps back. “What is happening to me?!” She cries. Nathan turns to Simon, looking amused and mildly disgusted, “You sick bastard!” Suddenly, the door behind you caves in, sending shards of glass flying in every direction. Tony falls through, bringing parts of the broken door frame with him as he tumbles to the floor. You hear Nathan yell in surprise as he backs away, getting as far from Tony as possible. You go the other direction, stupidly pinning yourself against one of the remaining glass doors. Tony snarls and reared on you, raising himself onto his knees before climbing to his feet. Your shriek is lost in everyone else’s screams, but then Kelly jumps in front of you from seemingly nowhere, brandishing a paint can in one hand. She swings it at Tony and it slams into his head with a sickening thunk. He collapses back to the floor, motionless. “What did you do?” Nathan gasped after a few shockingly silent seconds, genuinely horrified. The side of the paint can was caved in and smeared in red. There was a hole in Tony’s head that blood had begun to spill from. You whimpered and stumbled away from him, keeping as close to the wall as possible before leaving it to shuffle past the locker that held Gary. “Is he dead?” Alisha asked in a high pitched whisper. Nathan speaks up, “Well, I’m no doctor, but… You see the way the back of his head’s caved in like that?” Suddenly, Tony roars and grasps at Kelly’s leg, which is only a few feet from him. You jump back and feel an arm wrap around you and turn your head away from the quickly escalating scene of horror. Kelly reacts immediately, tearing her leg from his grip and bringing it down on his head, over and over again in a chorus of appalling splinters and squelches. “That should do it,” Nathan speaks as he lets his arms fall from your shoulders, his voice creaky with distress. “You killed our probation worker,” Alisha gasps, turning to Kelly. Kelly shakes her head slightly in shock. “This is very, very bad.” Nathan runs his hands through his hair. Alisha gags, looking away from Tony’s corpse. “Oh, I feel sick.” “He would have killed us!” Kelly reasons, insecurity and fear worming its way into the warble of her voice. “We should call the police. It was self-defense,” Curtis suggests, echoing Alisha’s words from only a few minutes ago. But while that was your original plan, it was now entirely out of the question. “Yeah,” Alisha agrees, “yeah, he’s right. We show ‘em the dead boy in the locker. They’ll do some CSI shit and figure it all out.” “They won’t believe us!” Kelly cries, and you suspect she’s right. “We just tell them the truth. We stick to our story,” Curtis persists. “What’s our story?” she asks, exasperated. “That he can turn invisible and she can conjure illusions and you can turn back time?! It doesn’t matter what we tell them, they’ll say we’re lying. They’ll say that we killed ‘em both! No one’s gonna believe you, not anymore.” She’s right. You know she’s right, deep in your being, in your bones, and you hate it. You hate how true it is, how messed up and unfair it is. “If there’s no body, there’s no crime,” Simon mutters anxiously. Everyone turns to look at him. “We should bury them under the flyover.” “Yeah? How do we do that? Someone’s gonna see us,” Alisha points out. You’re grateful for that, honestly. You’re all so distraught right now, you might have actually just walked outside with two dead bodies without thinking there would be consequences. Nathan shakes his head and you can practically see him thinking. “No, no, no. We give them a quick little,” he whistles to represent cleaning or something. “We put them in those wheelchairs, we wheel them up there, and if anyone sees us, we’re just a bunch of young offenders taking a couple of specials for a walk in the sunshine!” He tries to smile, but he looks far too tense to do so. After cleaning up and redressing the bodies, wheeling them under the flyover, and digging the hole, Nathan and Kelly tip over the wheelchairs, now soaked in blood, and dump the bodies into the ground. Nathan looks up at you somberly, a queasy expression on his face. Everyone is silent for a few seconds, partially relieved, but also knowing that the real danger begins now, with keeping this covered up. Nathan shakes his head and puts on his usual playful airs, “I’m pretty sure this breaches the terms of my ASBO.” It isn’t even that funny, but you’re so weary, so exhausted from the past two days of crazy events and literal murder, that you start laughing. Nathan does too, first small giggles, then snickers, and then all-out laughter. The mood hasn’t lightened much by the time you quiet down, and you only feel marginally better, but it’s the best you’ve felt in the past few hours, so that’s a start. “We don’t tell anyone about this, yeah?” Kelly instructs. Everyone nods. “About the storm or what it did to us or anything.” “We’re about to bury our probation worker, we don’t need to be drawing any attention to ourselves,” Nathan agrees. “I don’t want anyone to know.” Alisha grabs a shovel and stands by the open grave. “I cannot be a freak.” “It’s too late for me on that front,” you joke, “but being convicted for murder wouldn’t help anything.” “What about you?” Kelly points to Curtis, who remains bitterly silent. Nathan shakes his head, “There’s no goin’ back now, man. You’re just as screwed as the rest of us. You are black and famous, you’re probably more screwed.” “I shouldn’t even be here,” Curtis spits. “You don’t really have a choice,” you point out. Curtis meets your gaze for a second before bending down and digging his shovel into the newly upturned soil. You follow suit. Kelly turns to Alisha, “Just then, when he was touchin’ ya… How were you doin’ that?” “I don’t know!” Alisha responds, trying to brush her off. “Didn’t you say you wanted to piss on her tits?” Nathan teases, unfortunately reminding everyone of the particulars of that scene. “Probably best to keep that kind of thing between you and your internet service provider.” Simon is clearly trying not to look mortified, and he just continued shoveling. “Are you alright?” Curtis stops for a moment to address Alisha, remembering the involuntary part he played in the discovery of her power. She doesn’t say anything. Kelly stands up suddenly to repeatedly glance between you and Nathan. “What?” you ask. Nathan glares insistently at her, realizing what’s happening even as you don’t. “It’s nothin’,” Kelly shrugged and returned to shoveling. After a few more minutes, Nathan stands up and leans on his shovel, “Hold on, all of you have some kind of ‘special power.’ “Everyone can do something except me. He can do something,” he points to Simon, “he can do something and I can’t. That’s ridiculous, look at him! How does that make any sense.” Simon stops for a moment to wipe some sweat from his brow. “Well he sure is working harder than you,” you point out. “I work harder in other areas,” Nathan explains suggestively. “Maybe you can do something, you just haven’t found out what it is yet,” Simon reasons. “Yeah, right.” Nathan smiles, emboldened by the possibilities. “What if… What if I can’t feel pain?” Kelly punches him. “Ow!” “Did you feel that?” She grins. You laugh, completely understanding the impulse. “Stop hitting me!” Nathan protests. “Both of you!” The sky has darkened significantly by the time you finish the burial, and it isn't helped by the fact that you have to stop every few minutes when it suddenly looks like everything is done because you really want to just be finished. It’s actually a pretty good exercise in controlling your power. It’s even later by the time you finish cleaning off the wheelchairs, locker, and the surrounding area. Nathan catches up with you as you leave, asking if you want to walk home with him again. His voice sounds chipper and you half expect him to be joking, but when you look up, his eyes plead with you to say yes. So you do. And you don’t walk in silence. There is much to say about the past two days and it feels good to say it, to divulge your fear and your worries, and to hear them reciprocated. He turns down the same street he did the previous day and you walk the rest of the way alone, trying not to let your overwhelming fear of the future overtake you. You finally return home and collapse onto your bed for the second day in a row, once again hoping that the next day would be better, and doubting that it could be much worse.

#misfits #misfits tv #nathan #nathan young #nathan young misfits #nathan misfits #nathan young x reader #nathan young imagine

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Side Effects- Part 3 (Final)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood and gore, violence, smut, dubious consent, and language

Word Count: 5K

Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two

Summary: Y/N has the opportunity to finally end her relationship with the eight young men who changed her life. With the police on her side, Y/N is prepared to do anything to help their investigation into the Miroh Coven, especially since they’re tied to several missing person cases. However, returning to the coven is nothing short of condemning because Chan, Jisung, and Changbin are more determined than ever to make Y/N a permanent member.

Tag List: @softxminghao, @darjeli, @seungminshakur, @rubylove-21, @squirracha, @athosthehaunted, @lixiesbreadstick, @tapikachu, @unghchangkyun, @whereitgetsyou, @ashbash9909, @tropicalwrites, @mikailo666

I wasn’t able to properly tag these users: peachbess and lovesfaith (sad face)

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me?

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside.

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.”

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures.

Dozens of them.

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head.

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs.

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor.

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung.

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant.

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan #han jisung #seo changbin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids fantasy #stray kids vampires #skz imagines #skz scenarios #3racha fanfic

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pinkykitten · 5 years ago

Text

Forest pt. 1

Castlevania

Alucard Tepes x female! reader

Warning: cursing, violence, gore, mentions of blood

Specifics: chapter fic, romance, angst, fluff, not requested, action, adventure, race neutral reader, human reader

People: alucard tepes, monster thingy from the show

Words: 3,338

Summary: Since Alucard lives in the forest now in Dracula’s castle he meets the reader in the forest and in that moment he starts to have a liking towards her and is very bashful, blushy and romantic towards her and she is a goofball and is very silly and lighthearted. From the moment that they met all Alucard wants to do is protect the reader no matter what is takes.

Authors Note: god alucard is so sexy and so beautiful like god dang! lol sorry im a bit of a horny nerd. anywho its rlly late where im at andddddd i cant go to sleep cuz i slept the whole day so ayyyee. anywho i was inspired idk where but i was inspired to write this bc i think alucard deserves love and someone who adores him like i do. i loved writing this tho and rlly want to write for castlevania more but this is going to be chapters idk how many yet lets just see where the wind takes us i hate planning anyways. IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS THO I AINT EVEN MAD ABOUT IT!!!!! LIKE YASSSSSSSSSS

“Alright so its been almost a month and I haven’t died. That must mean I’m doing something right.” You used a piece of wood you made into a cane to help you get up the steep hills. You were voyaging alone in the forest. You had a family that were settled more outside the town that you lived near. You were a large family and your siblings came down with a sickness. You were determined to find a cure and determined to find medicine for them. As scary as it may have seemed you needed to put on a brave face for the dangers that lay out ahead. You knew those monsters walked around and as much as that terrified you, your siblings came first. At a young age, adventure excited you and you always wanted to prove to yourself and family that you were more than capable of doing things alone.

You saw a river down below. The water rushing past rocks made you relaxed and with a glint in your eyes you smiled. “Aha!” You looked left and right, seeing if anyone was present. “Alone with just the woods and me. I knew mother was wrong. I can very much so take care of myself.” You threw your satchel on the floor alongside with your clothes. “I smell like a pig.” You chuckled at your joke. The cool, clear water was down below as you ran to it, looking forward to the coldness and the feeling of being clean. You jumped in not knowing someone was near.

You dunked your face laughing. “And there’s fish!” You swam behind a light blue fish. Being at awe when you saw the way the fins shone from the sun. You picked it up skillfully and carefully you set it free. Your body delicately floated. “This is the life.” Birds chirped, the wind blew like a whisper against your cheek.

But suddenly, the rustle of the trees alarmed you. You heard the snapping of a twig. Your head snapped to the noise. Fear bubbled inside you as you thought of all the possibilities. What if it was a bear? What if it were those monsters? Your heart sped fast as you backed out of the river. Your breathing was faster. You needed to get out of here. As you got out your back hit against fur. You quickly turned around as saw a huge demon, monster, you didn’t even know what but you knew it was from Dracula’s army. Its teeth were sharp and its eyes were bright and red. It was your worst nightmare. You erupted a scream as you sprinted around it, climbing the hill to where your satchel laid.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m gonna die!” You didn’t care about your nudeness, all that mattered to you was surviving. You tried to go as fast as possible but the creature landed in front of you, stopping you from escaping. It cornered you against a huge boulder and tree. With everything you had you lifted your cane high in the air and hit the monster. It didn’t even flinch.

“What?” Your eyes widened in horror. The creature picked you up as if you weighed nothing and threw you against a tree. You cried out in pain as your back burned and ached to an extreme level. You then noticed that a tree branch stabbed right through your shoulder. The blood dripped down your arm onto your naked skin. You felt queasy and weak. Thoughts and last words echoed through your mind. The monster was about to devour you but a flash of blonde hair came into your vision and you saw, him.

This young man was nothing you’ve ever seen before. He was stronger than the average person, throwing the monster back and forth. He punched it high in the air and then threw it against the boulder. He was incredible. Full of power. Your eyes were starting to close and your vision grew blurry as the last thing you saw were the fangs that the man displayed.

“Mother I had this terrible dream!” Your whole body shot up. That was a terrible decision as you winced in pain. “It was not a dream.” You breathed hard as you took in your surroundings. The fire was lit making the room comfortable as you were once shivering from being wet. It looked as if you were in the kitchen of somebody's house. “Hello?” Your throat was dry. You were in a stranger’s house. You were in a stranger’s house! “Oh dear.” You were put high onto a table. You jumped off but were still too weak. You landed hard on your knees but caught yourself with your arms. Your shoulder pounding in pain. You became dizzy. You heard footsteps nearing. “Who are you?” You tried to stand up again but slipped into the arms of a man.

“Hold on. You are still not well.” His voice came out almost like a whisper. He picked you up and sat you back on the table. “Also, I’m the man who saved your life.”

“That was you? That was, um, pretty amazing.” You curled into yourself. You were nervous around this man. He intimidated you and made you feel shy. He was very handsome and charming. “You kicked that things as* real good.”

The man chuckled, “thank you.”

You quickly looked at your nightgown. It was too big for you as the sleeves ate your arms and the collar was off the shoulders. Your eyes shot open. You were bashful. “Did you, um, see anything?”

He looked away, “I kinda had to. Sorry. You were naked when I saved you.”

“Great. That’s great,” you inhaled clapping your hands. Suddenly you sensed a throbbing pain on your shoulder and you looked to see a blood stain on the nightgown. “Um excuse me sir. Is that supposed to happen?”

The man looked worried as he laid you back down and pulled the nightgown down enough to see your shoulder. “It does not look good. It seems with that jump you reopened the stitches.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. God, this really hurts.”

He got to work on doing your stitches again as he got his items. “Bite down on this.” He opened his mouth to show the action and you saw his teeth.

“Agh please don’t eat me! You’re a vampire aren’t you?” You flinched away.

The man rolled his eyes as he shoved the cloth in your mouth but before he got started on you he said, “You are right. I am a vampire.”

You spat the cloth out, “I knew it. I also would like to know your name as this may be my last moment and I would like to remember who will either save me or take my life. My name is y/n l/n.”

“The names Alucard Tepes and this is going to sting a little.” With that Alucard poured some alcohol on your wounds. (im sorry i dont know how helping ppl w medical stuff works :(

You shifted and tried pouncing up, fighting the urge to let out a blood curdling scream. But Alucard pushed you down with his hands, shushing you gently. “I know, this hurts.” You could almost sense some love and actual concern in his voice. His brows knitted, “I promise, you are almost finished.”

You looked deep into Alucard’s eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. This man or vampire looked unreal. He looked made up, something from stories you read as a child, like a prince. You felt something go off within you. Not knowing if it was lust or something else but a fire erupted inside your soul as Alucard’s face inched closer to yours to get to work on your shoulder. His smell was intoxicating. Almost like a musk but yet something floral, fresh, mixed in. Your heart thumped faster at the contact.

His plump lips quivered as they looked at your state. No way did he want this innocent soul as beautiful as you looked dying on his table. He already had to deal with a lot recently. He didn’t know why or understand but he had this inclination, this feeling, that he needed to keep you alive. He just had to.

Unable to keep the scream at bay no more you let it out. Your veins protruding from your neck as you became dizzy and once again passed out.

Your eyes opened. Your body was aching. It felt like it went through war. You inhaled as you looked around again, but this time you were hoping things were not a dream as then Alucard would be fake. Remembering his name your head whipped to the side to see Alucard holding a wash cloth stained with blood. He was sound asleep. His head resting against his arm against the table. All the medical stuff was out and about as if he were still working on you. His back was arched at a odd position.

“He must of fallen asleep while working on me,” you whispered to yourself. His hair sprayed out on his shoulders and table. Without a second thought you touched his hair lightly and you were shocked. It felt like silk upon your fingers! His golden eye lashes kissed his cheek as he snoozed so peacefully. You felt bad leaving him to worry for you and to be sleeping in an uncomfortable place. You felt you weren’t that deserving of such treatment.

You kicked your feet out and hopped off the table. Your feet pattered against the hard floor as you walked to Alucard. You snatched him a blanket you saw nearby and draped it over his tall, lean body. You smiled seeing how elegant and graceful he looked sleeping.

You yawned, scratching your head as you looked upon the window and noticed it was raining. Surprisingly in this vampire but also a stranger’s house the rain seemed cozy and it made you feel at peace. It was dark in his house. The trees shook from the tiny wind and rain.

“I must leave but I should thank Alucard for helping me with my wound last night. I probably wouldn’t have last without him.” Your mind wondered back to what happened at the river. Yes, Dracula was gone according to what the towns people said but why was his army still about, his monsters? It didn’t make sense to you. But what did you know? You were just a weak human living in a mysterious world you didn’t want any part of.

You pulled out a chair and got to writing a thank you letter to Alucard, pulling out a pen, ink and a piece of paper.

“Dear Alucard. No, too direct. How about, to a savior? Too high and mighty.” Finally you had written your letter but it sounded very awkward and you were too much of a p*ssy to give it to Alucard. “Ugh this is hopeless.” You crumpled up the paper, throwing it on the floor by the garbage.

You thought and thought and thought until an idea popped in your mind. “I know,” you snapped. “I’ll make him breakfast. My mother always says a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” You crossed your fingers, “lets just hope this man likes human food instead of hearts and blood.” You gulped.

You rolled your sleeves up, washed your hands and brought out the pots and pans and butter. “I’m going to make toast, eggs, bacon, beans and mushrooms.”

You spiced up the food and placed them in a skillet. The sizzle satisfying your ears. The sun started to peak through the clouds as the aroma wafted through the house. You grinned, loving to cook and make a person happy with your hard work. “I hope he likes this.” You were almost finished when Alucard coughed behind you.

You jumped, being in the zone. “Oh hi there,” you waved awkwardly. “My apologies if I woke you.”

“Uh, no I woke myself up,” his rough voice made your knees weak as it was still laced with sleep. He stretched, cracking some knuckles, yawning as well. “What I would like to know is what are you doing?”

“Well,” you started setting up the table cutely. “I wanted to say thanks for helping me back there. I was kind of a p*ssy to be honest and like a wuss so this is just a little thanks for all the help.”

Alucard didn’t know what to say so instead he just smiled.

“Please, sit, sit, sit,” you pointed to the seats. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

Alucard awkwardly sat. Not ever having this type of service. He looked at you as you were preparing the finishing steps of your dish. The sun cascaded around you and you were illuminated like a goddess. You were breathtaking. Alucard blushed madly. You put everything on the table. Seeing Alucard’s expression you laughed, “are you alright?”

Alucard coughed, “yes, thank you for all of this. You really didn’t need to. It all looks beautiful.” He looked at the presentation.

You took the seat beside Alucard. You could of sat anywhere else but you sat beside him. He almost couldn’t hear what you were about to say in that moment from how hard his heart was beating.

“No need to thank me. I think we’ve done enough thanking and now its time to dig in.” You patted his hand.

Alucard just looked at the food and he almost felt tears at his eyes. Nobody ever cared for him like this.

“Is it okay? If its not to your liking I totally get it. You don’t have to eat it. I don’t even know if you like this stuff. I mean who knows maybe you only eat flowers and here I am serving you bacon and eggs.” You became flustered.

“No, no, no this is lovely its just,” he choked back a cry. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me, ever.”

You clutched onto his hand and gave him a beautiful smile. “Then that just means you have to eat double. As much and maybe more than what your stomach can hold.” You giggled.

Alucard blushed again as he started to eat quickly. Enjoying every moment of your company and food. “The beans are delicious.”

“Well I’m glad you liked them. Its my mum’s recipe, she always makes them like this.” You then recalled why you came on this journey in the first place. “My satchel!”

“Don’t worry, its safe.”

You raised your brow, “did you take a look?”

Alucard paused, “no, I would never.” He took a bite out of his bread. Chewing on the piece silently. “Maybe just a tiny peek.”

You pouted, “Nosy. I should of locked it.”

“Why do you have all those books in your bag anyways?” Alucard crossed his legs as he took a sip of his coffee. His light orbs staring intently at you.

Seeing the rain start to become tiny droplets of rain you thought about your family and how you missed them. This was all for them. “My siblings you see are very ill,” your hand shook with anxiety. “My village is very poor and we are limited in resources, especially medicine. We’ve tried everything and nothing seems to work. They just seem to be getting worse. I’ve been researching and trying to find an answer and supposedly, I read that there is a certain flower that only grows in a specific area that may cure the illness. In the books there is a map and that’s why I was led to that river well more like I wanted to take a bath and that’s what led me to the river. But I’ve been on this trail for a while. I’m just, scared because it all depends on me. If I can’t find this flower, if I can’t find a cure and my family dies it will be my fault. I would have killed them.” You didn’t even realize it but you were crying.

Alucard saw you were distressed and held onto your hand. He comforted you through your anxiety. Your teary eyes looked into his and he gave you a toothy smile, “I’ll help you find it.”

“What?” You rubbed your eyes.

“I know the place you need to go. I can guide you there. Besides the outside world is very dangerous for a beautiful girl such as yourself. I can see that this means a lot to you and I want to help.”

You dropped your fork and got out of your chair. “You mean it? You aren’t joking?”

Alucard chuckled, “I promise I am speaking truth.” Alucard flung his hand out to you.

You quickly shook on it and shouted with enthusiasm, “deal!” You jumped up and down laughing as you hugged Alucard. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can we please leave immediately then?”

“We can leave today.”

You danced, “yes. I’ll go change and get my things.” You brought the empty dishes to clean them as Alucard stood up with a smile on his face.

You were something else, something different. A breath of fresh air in his depressing life. Maybe you were meant to be here. Maybe you were a sign. Either way Alucard thought that these couple of days were to be very exciting. Alucard was about to get ready when a piece of paper in the corner caught his eyes. It was crumbled. “Hmmm, what is this?” He bent down to pick it up and read the words. With just the first word to the letter his smile grew bigger and bigger.

Alucard coughed as he raised the letter you wrote to him earlier but discarded high in the air, “Dear Alucard, to my savior. I would love for you to know that I am extremely appreciative for what you have done for me in saving my life-”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. That letter was not supposed to be read by him especially. It was embarrassing. You dropped a plate in the sink and felt your whole world collapse. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“When I first saw you I thought you were a prince-” Alucard kept going until you couldn’t take it any longer.

You sprinted and tried grabbing the letter out of his hand. “Alucard, give that to me. Now.”

“Oh you want this letter?” Alucard smirked. “You do sound like an obnoxious romantic whore.”

You gasped, “I do not! That was supposed to be my thank you letter and I didn’t like it and you weren’t supposed to read it. So give it back!” You jumped for it but Alucard raised it high in the air. “Alucard, give it to me.”

Alucard’s face came closer to yours as he pinned you against the table. “Why don’t you come and get it?”

You practically climbed him, snatching the letter out of his hand. “Aha!” But Alucard’s footing was off and he and you fell with a thud.

The birds chirped lightly as Alucard laid under you and you fell on top of him, your arm bracing for the impact. Alucard held in his breath with a red blush as he looked at you so extremely close. You both held that position for what felt like forever. You eyes were wide in horror at the compromising position.

You quickly stood up and were flustered. Forgetting where everything was. “Um, um, um. I’m going to go put my trip on so we can get ready for the clothes.” You quickly ran away.

Alucard breathed quickly as he brushed back his long hair whispering the words. “My savior.” He noticed you were in such a panic mode that you forgot about your letter. It was left and Alucard was not going to leave or throw away evidence that someone saw him in such a good light. He loved that letter because it was from you.

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