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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

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because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image.

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!”

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes.

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race.

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable.

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form.

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur.

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy.

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams.

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice.

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head.

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless.

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.”

#danny phantom #i was watching forever phantom and said 'i should kill danny' and then i fucking didn't #im obsessed with ghost king danny as end game #Im not sure this is the route I would want to go but I want him to end up woth tje crown #its bitter sweet bc its a *lifelong (possibly afterlife) commitment that he didnt get a choice in #he will be happy and he will be a good king but it wasnt his choice and he'll always regret it a little #i love clockwork but he's a bit shady and will always work in favor of the timeline #anyway happy fucking sunday bitches #have some homemade angst #also i typed this directly in tumblr and almost hit the power screen on my computer instead of backspace #god was trying to stop me from publishing but i overcame #Only did one quick edit Im too tired to care anymore #lmk if you want it on ao3

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bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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Perfect Student - Geto Suguru

I love slimy Geto :) although i’m not sure how slimy he actually is here lol femme reader, 3k words

TW: manipulation, abuse of power(?), dubcon, biting(not a lot), spanking

You weren’t the best university student, you were willing to admit. A few classes skipped than deemed appropriate, a couple missed assignments you’d rather not think about again, and some test scores that were down right abysmal.

But you shouldn’t be failing your class completely! A string of low grades on your last few assignments was worrying you. You understood the course material just fine, yet your work was apparently not reflecting it. Making an appointment with your professor, you could only hope he’d shed some light onto the situation.

“Mr. Geto?” Knocking on his office door, you found it swung open with ease. It was late afternoon, no need for any lights to be on in his office as the large window to the side got plenty of light from the slowly setting sun.

“Ah, you’re here.” He smiled at you from behind his desk, his hair in that familiar half bun he sports. The sleeves of the button up he’d had on during class are pushed up past his elbows, revealing his taut forearms. “Take a seat.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the swanky brown leather armchair on the other side of the desk.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, stiffly sitting in the chair and avoiding his narrowed eyes looking you over. You weren’t usually so nervous, you talked up a bit in class if you knew the answer, but being here with the warmth of the sun heating half your face and your admittedly very attractive teacher staring at you, it made your heart thump harder.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Geto leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“Well sir, I’ve noticed my grades haven’t been the best recently on some of the work I’ve turned in?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question and it makes your cheeks burn. “A-and I understand the material for this lesson pretty well, so I- so I, uh…” Losing your train of thought, you glance at Geto’s unreadable expression.

“So you came to get a better grade? Let me pull up your grades on the computer and see.” Turning to the monitor sitting on the desk corner, Geto types away. With his focus not on you, you can finally breathe a little easier. “Oh (Y/N)...” Geto tsks and it makes you worry.

“What?” Wide eyed, you lean forward to try and see what he sees.

“I’m just looking at your past grades and you’ve got quite a bit of missing work.”

“Y-yes I know but-”

“But nothing.” He says it softly but it still manages to shut you up. “Care to explain why that happened?”

Truthfully, you had no reason other than laziness. You’d missed one, then it spiraled into two, three- you’d managed to catch up before it got too bad, though, or at least so you thought. You stayed silent, eyes tracing the wood grains in the desk.

“Hm, no answer. That’s a shame.” Clicking a few things, Geto ticked a brow upwards. “Looking at your recent work, I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.”

“What?” That makes your head snap up in fear. It was only the middle of the term, surely your grade wasn’t that far gone? “Mr. Geto, what-”

“Call me Suguru, please. It’s just us here, we aren’t in class.” He cuts you off with a raise of his hand and an easy smile.

“Suguru…” You say it slowly, worrying your lip briefly. “My grade can’t be that bad already that there’s nothing I can do.”

“Take a look for yourself.” Turning the monitor towards you, Suguru’s smile got bigger seeing your devastated face. Your grade was beyond horrible, the number on the top of the screen making your stomach churn.

“But I...I just checked it for myself not too long ago. How could it have changed like that?” Leaning back in your chair in shock, thoughts spiraled in your head. Lost in your own world, you didn’t pay any attention to your teacher.

He stood up slowly, brushing down the front of his shirt as he tucked in his chair. Shuffling a few things on his desk to the side, he smoothed his hand on the empty space he created as he rounded the corner, leaning against it as he stood in front of you.

“What can I do to fix my grade?” Looking up at him, Suguru nearly cooed at the pitiful look in your eyes.

“What’re you willing to do?” His voice is staggeringly low, a mere rumble in his chest and throat. He barely speaks them properly, they just tumble forth and into your lap. You take a pause, sizing up the way your teacher takes up so much space in front of you, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what he means, you can see the slightest bulge forming in the front of his pants.

“I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Suguru chuckles, letting his hair out of it’s bun and draping it across his shoulders. Licking your lips nervously you stare at him, throat tightening the longer you look at the sunkissed beauty.

“Okay.” Whispering quietly, you shuffle your bag out of your lap, you begin to fiddle with your bottoms.

“Hold on, where’s the rush? We should savor this moment, hm?” Grabbing your hands, Suguru pulls you up to standing. Wrapping an arm around your waist he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward him.

He kisses you gently, getting a feel for your demeanor. The hand around your waist grips you tighter, his fingers digging in painfully and making you squirm closer to him to try and get away. Your hands clamp down onto his shoulders to steady yourself, a muffled whimper coming from you.

Suguru slips his tongue into your mouth with ease, slotting his mouth together with yours and overtaking your senses. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you’re surrounded by his presence and overwhelmed with the energy he has just below the surface.

“S-sugu-” Your voice breaks when he leaves the kiss and moves onto your neck, nipping at the column of your throat and behind your ear.

“Sugu? That’s cute.” He chuckles while tugging the collar of your shirt down. Kissing the new skin before him, Suguru wastes no time in biting down. A sharp cry leaves you at the sudden pain, hands flying to try and push him away. “Calm down.” It’s all the warning Suguru gives you and then he’s biting you again, higher up on your neck.

Suguru sucks harshly on your neck, his teeth digging into the flesh with no remorse. Tugging on his hair, you’re worried about the marks that’ll be left behind, the ones you’ll have to explain to your friends after this meeting with your teacher.

“Take this off.” Tugging at the bottom of your top, Suguru releases you from his hold. “That too.” He mumbles when you make no move to take your bra off as well.

“Sir…” Crossing your arms over your chest, embarrassment washes over you. It was fine when you were just kissing him, but now clothes were coming off and- and did you really want to do this? Taking a look back at the monitor however, you knew this was the only option. There wasn’t any other teacher for this subject, and if you backed out now there would only be more headaches later.

“No need to be shy, little one.” Suguru chuckles and pushes away from the desk. Putting his hands on your shoulders, he guides you to take his spot, pushing you to sit on the empty space he made. Curling his fingers around your wrist, Suguru is gentle as he holds both your arms away from you.

Craning your head away, you can’t stand to see the lustful look in his eyes as they roam over your topless body. Suguru bites his lip, letting out a low whistle as he lets go of one of your arms to cup your breast.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, eyes focused on the way your nipple pebbles under his thumb. Tugging on it, Suguru chuckles when you whimper and his eyes dart up to your face. “What a nice little noise.” Standing between your legs, Suguru puts your arm around his shoulders and leans in, kissing your neck on the other side while he plays with your breasts.

Twirling the ends of his hair with your fingers, the feeling of his fingers going over your nipples makes an ashamed heat settle between your legs. Unable to clench your thighs together to relieve the building pressure, you settle for squirming on his desk.

Pushing you back to lean on your hand, Suguru takes a nipple into his mouth. He flicks it a few times with his tongue before nibbling softly, scraping his teeth against the bud as his other hands makes work with the neglected breast.

“S-sugu, please-” Vocalizing what you wanted was near impossible, especially since you shouldn’t be wanting it in the first place. But the heat between your legs was killing you, and a few tugs to the ends of his hair wrapped between your fingers got him to stand up a little straighter.

“Getting antsy?” Suguru teases with a light pink flush on his cheeks. You nod, lip caught between your teeth as your eyes go down to his now prominent bulge.

“I want it.”

“Show me what you want.” He challenges immediately, a sick grin on his face. Nodding again, the hand on his shoulder drops down to run along his chest and down to it. As you work on unbuttoning his slacks, Suguru undoes a few buttons on his shirt, exposing smooth skin that’s slightly damp with sweat.

Pulling his hard cock out, it’s hot and heavy in your palm. Pumping it slowly, the veins that run up and down the length pulse beneath your fingertips, blood rushing straight to the head of his cock where it leaks precum straight onto the floor.

Suguru is pulling your bottoms and underwear down as you stroke his cock, his nails scraping against your skin from his eagerness to have you completely bare before him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him pocket your underwear, but you don’t bring it up. You know you won’t be getting it back anyway.

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy.” Spreading your legs wide, Suguru practically salivates at the sight of your glistening cunt. “What a shame my pretty little student was hiding this from me for so long! I should mark you down just for that!”

“Sorry.” Chuckling bashfully, you let his cock go as Suguru tugs you closer to him, your ass beginning to hang off the edge of the desk.

“You’ll make it up to me, right?” He laughs lightly as well, grabbing your legs and putting them around his waist. “Good girl.” He hums when you nod obediently, head clouded with lust and a desire to please him.

The tip of his cock presses into you with ease, the smear of his precum and your arousal making an easy entrance. Your arms wrap around his shoulders to keep you steady as he bottoms out, a shiver running up both of your spines at the feeling.

“Fuck-” Suguru barks suddenly, drawing his hips back. “You’re milking me already, I can barely pull out.” Snapping his hips forward again, Suguru delights in the wet slap that comes from it. Beginning to rock into you, he can see the fabric of his pants staining darker from your juices, a wet patch surely forming on his desk under you as well.

Planting a hand next to you, Suguru’s back curves against his shirt as he fucks you. He had wanted to take it slow, this was only the thing he’d been working towards since classes started, but the drag of his cock against your walls was demolishing that plan.

“Sugu!” You cried, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath fanning over him added to the heat washing over him, more sweat accumulating under his clothes and sticking to your face.

Hearing you moan and whine beneath him drove Suguru wild and he couldn’t help the way his other hand pulled up from your thigh and slapped back down, making you jump and tighten around him.

“My slutty little student- how naughty you are.” Slapping your thigh a few more times, Suguru pushes his hand between you and finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it in tight circles. Choked moans came from your lips and you squeezed him tighter.

“Sugu- sir- ah, fuck-” The wet slapping sound gets louder, your slick gushing out of you at this point and coating Suguru. Lifting your heavy head, you kiss him, teeth knocking together and accidentally biting his lip as you try to slide your tongue into his mouth.

Suguru leans forward to kiss you harder, nearly making you fall over from the weight. His finger moves faster on your clit, desperate to have you cum on his cock. His orgasm is coming faster than he would have liked and he doesn’t want to cum without feeling you fall apart around him.

He ends up leaning so far forward, you really do fall back, lips breaking apart as you crumple onto the desk. Suguru pulls you forward by your hips, your ass now nearly completely off the desk as he fucks you.

“Fucking little slut- gonna make me cum-” His bottom lip is between his teeth, clamping down so hard it just might draw blood if he keeps going. Suguru’s hair tickles your skin as he moves, cascading down around you and sticking briefly to your skin.

“Please, please-” Your voice catches in your throat as you cum. No sound comes out of you, your back arching high off the desk as the pleasure finally comes to a peak.

“Fucking beautiful!” Suguru smiles like a madman, his fingers moving even faster on your clit as you rhythmically tighten around him. He kisses your slack mouth, swallows the forced gasps and moans that come from yours chest as your lungs burn for oxygen.

Slapping your ass a few times, Suguru cums inside you. Pushing his cock in as deep as possible he grinds himself against you, pushing a long, low groan into your mouth as he does. The hand on your cunt drops away, wrapping wet and sticky fingers around your thigh as he moves away from your mouth to breathe.

“What a...what a good student I have.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he catches his breath. Letting your legs fall slack, Suguru pushes a hand on your bladder to feel himself slide out of you.

As his cock leaves you, there’s a dribble of his cum that follows, staining your cunt white and dripping down between the crack of your ass and to the floor. Rubbing a hand on your thigh, Suguru gathers the cum dripping out and pushes it back in.

“Shouldn’t waste any now.” He hums, tracing his fingers up and down your cunt.

“T-too much.” You whine pathetically, trying in vain to grab his hand and stop him. Catching your hand in his, Suguru relents and threads his fingers through yours. The gesture is sweet, even more so when he kisses the back of your hand.

“Such a sweet student I have, wanting to hold my hand.” You giggle at the sentiment, cheeks getting warmer the longer he looks at you with that smile on his face. “Let’s hope you can keep this up for the rest of the term, and maybe I won’t fail you.”

Of course this wouldn’t be a one time thing. Suguru intended to milk this opportunity for all he could, already planning on having you stay after his lesson so he can play with your cunt before his next class.

“Go ahead and get dressed.” Helping you sit up, Suguru untangled himself from you and grabbed a few tissues, putting them in your hand as he started fixing himself up. The sun had gone down even farther during your little escapade, no longer baking the room in warm orange light. It left only a dim, cool glow now, and the heat it provided you was quickly leaving your body along with the sweat evaporating on your skin.

“If you want to keep your grade up, I think we should keep meeting regularly to discuss your progress.” Suguru had his teaching voice on now that he was leading you out of his office ten minutes later, your panties stuffed into his back pocket. There were a few other people passing by in the hall, some giving quick waves to the two of you as they saw you.

“Okay, Mr. Geto.” You knew to play the part well, not wanting to arouse suspicion by calling him by his first name. No one in your class called him Suguru, and especially not Sugu.

“Glad you understand.” He patted your shoulder quickly, giving you a cheeky wink when no one was looking. “I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, (Y/N).” Giving your arm a brief squeeze, he sent you on your way. Turning back to his office, he closed the door and locked it, going back to his desk and laying your panties across his lap.

Pulling out his phone, he snapped a few pictures of your underwear, sniffing it briefly before putting it back in his pocket.

“Professor Satoru is gonna love this.”

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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chemicalpink · 4 years ago

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Tied Desires ♡ Kim Taehyung x Reader

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x female reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut (at this point, do i ever write something else?)

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: rope bunny, soft bdsm dynamic, brat reader, a bit of findom in there, soft dom tae

A/N: this was- a wild ride. A humongous thanks to @erotikkook for coming up with the name and the banner (support Cay’s work or else) AND to the amazing people that beta this @taegularities and @sugasbabiie you guys are amazing, I’m sorry you had to see first hand that I write my stuff without punctuation, my mother has always held that against me. Side note, I’m behind in like 20+ assignments from law school and I decided to prioritise this fic. Don’t do that kids.

Summary: Perhaps teasing Taehyung back could get you in deep trouble. It’s not like it wasn’t exactly what you were wishing for tho.

There had always been something so cathartic and almost therapeutic about the arrangement you had with Taehyung; while most of your relationship consisted of sweet glances, funny selcas on social media and the occasional brunch date being photographed to the public eye, the dynamic was turned upside down behind closed doors, lights barely on, the warmth that was brought upon your bodies as you feverishly made out as soon as the entrance door was closed. It was, of course, such a weird occurrence as Taehyung’s job kept piling up. However, lately, his usual playful teasing had turned into full bedroom eyes whenever there was a camera directed at him, the same bedroom eyes and attitude that had been reserved only for you to see for so long; of course something was bound to go down with it.

“Would you like us to get those inside your car?” the lady at the register said as you made sure to place the credit card back into your purse that Taehyung had given you once as an extension to his..

You smiled and nodded at her, stealing a quick glance at the dozen boxes that were scattered around the lobby of the store, most of them being really unnecessary things. But they would serve a common purpose: riling Taehyung up.

Once the boxes were secured in the back of the van, and you had asked Taehyung’s driver to head home for the day. as if on clockwork, your phone dinged a notification of an incoming text, Taehyung’s. Attached to it, and very prominently so, was a recent screenshot of a notification from his bank, asking him to verify his most recent purchase: ₩ 7,000,000 in a single exhibition from Gucci, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, anticipating his next message.

From: Taehyung [14:23] did you just buy 7 million won worth of gucci??? From: Taehyung [14:30] wait up To: Taehyung [14:32] only if you ask nicely 🤪 From: Taehyung [14:32] Y/N….

After making sure to look as close to Tae’s wettest dream as possible, white lingerie on, main bedroom lit only thanks to the subtly warm light coming out of the bathroom, you fixed yourself onto the bed, scrolling through whatever social media, waiting for Taehyung to come home. And he did. Earlier than any other time in the past month, silently making his way to the bedroom.

A dominant aura surrounded him, the exact same one you were hoping to bring out. He licked his lips over and over a few times as he seemed to contemplate you laying there on his bed ready for him, to which you could only stare back at him as he loosened the first few buttons from his shirt, deciding to turn his eyes to the floor where the dozen boxes laid untouched.

You sat up on the bed, hands on your lap, a teasing smile shooting towards your boyfriend as he pulled at some of the ribbons that decorated the black and white containers. Taehyung exhaled loudly, not exasperated, but definitely preparing himself for a punishment you were so loudly asking for. He raised an eyebrow at you as he asked, “You did this to catch my attention, then?”

“Why?” you said, smiling teasingly at him, unable to help it. “Did it work?”

Something feral crossed Taehyung’s eyes before he had one hand wrapped around the back of your neck, hovering over you as his loose hair strands covered his sight almost entirely, adding to his dominating low tone as his grip tightened almost painfully tugging at the roots of your hair. “Oh, so now you think you get to tease me, Y/N?”

He released you from his grip, a smile creeping up to his face as he heard you whimper at the loss of proximity.

“You don’t get to unnecessarily spend my money without having to face consequences, Y/N”, Taehyung said as he went back to the boxes, carefully picking out all of the cloth around each of them until there was a dozen of them on his hand. Your heart thumped violently against your chest in excitement and anticipation when he ordered, “Lay back down Y/N, legs up and open. I wanna hear you beg for me.”

Taehyung resorted to leaning against the vanity that faced the bed directly, the light from the bathroom beside it dimly illuminating the dark composure he adopted as he caressed the bunch of black material he had in his hands. You had always been a big fan of the way he seemed to never lose control once he was in the zone, how he was so seemingly unaffected at having you on full display. Completely at his mercy.

“What are you waiting for? Panties aside, touch yourself, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your hand was quick to pull the already sticky lacey cloth aside, biting your lips as the sensation had you already clenching around nothing, just from having Taehyung’s stare burning through you. You wetted your fingers as you caressed your folds, one elbow propping you up enough to have a somewhat clear view of your boyfriend staring back at you.

You rubbed your clit a few times, a moan escaping your lips as you threw your head back in pleasure. Grinding your hips into your hand, you rubbed yourself with the flats of four of your fingers, in an effort to increase the much needed friction as you felt yourself get wetter.

“Were you really that desperate for me, baby?” Tae’s tone was borderline mocking as he smirked to himself, barely sparing a glance at you whining on the bed; out of the corner of your eye you could see him tying up the black ribbons to one another. Feeling something stirring on your lower belly, you pinched your clit in an effort to ride out your orgasm, which was quickly cut off when Tae’s hand pushed yours out of the way as you felt your eyes prickling with tears at the sudden loss of pleasure. “Naughty girls don’t get to come so fast, Y/N.”

Taehyung’s fingers lightly caressed your folds, coating them with your wetness before he slipped them into his mouth teasingly, tasting you on his tongue for a brief second before he had you sitting on your feet, hands in your lap again as he took the homemade rope he had knotted while you’d touched yourself.

“Tonight’s safeword is gucci.” He glanced for the uptenth time at the unopened packages. “Bet you won’t forget that one.”

He moved to sit right in front of you, shirt sleeves around the mid of his arms as he took both of your wrists in his hand and started wrapping the silky material around them, binding them together.

“Put your hands behind your head, baby,” Taehyung said, continuing to wrap the rope expertly around your body, restricting most movements without hurting you too much. “Bend over a bit.” His fingers caressed your perked nipples almost unintentionally as he brought the tied ribbons to the front, face perfectly calm and concentrated as he made sure to frame your breasts with the material before bringing it down your waist and back once again. “Perfect. How do you feel?”

“Good.” You would’ve been lying if you’d said that you weren’t at least a little bit excited and nervous after going so long without one of your sessions with Tae, but at the end of the day, you knew there was no one else in the world you could leave your body at their entire mercy other than him. The rope was wrapped around your hips in no time, thighs stuck together as he manhandled you onto your knees. You were unable to hold yourself up, face against the mattress, ass up and completely exposed to him as he finished his work and stood back to appreciate it.

“The teasing game is one you can’t win against me, Y/N,” he said as his hands continued the work you had begun a few minutes prior to being completely tied up, lewd noises echoing against the walls as he wasted no time in inserting a couple of fingers into your cunt, a loud moan slipping past your lips. “You’re free to try, but you’ll end up like this every single time.”

He continued to work your orgasm up until he could feel you clenching down on his fingers, thighs trembling in anticipation before a low laugh bubbled up from his throat as he removed his hands from you. He left you whimpering against his sheets every time like a vicious cycle, tears running down your cheeks as you couldn’t even slightly move to relieve the pain that having him denying you orgasms for four times gave you.

“Aww look at you, so prettily ruined for me, Y/N.” His fingers had started to build up a turmoil in your lower abdomen once again as he methodically caressed your folds before thrusting two fingers into you lazily in favour of holding a conversation. “I guess I could let you cum this one time. Seven million won is really nothing, I keep that money as spare change.”

“Y-yes please, Tae.” Your pleasure built up faster than before as Taehyung leaned down to mouth at your folds, warm tongue working circles around your bud and fingers working you through the greatest orgasm you could ever ask for. The slurping noises took over the sound of your rigged breath and heavy whimpers as you came on his tongue, him moaning against you as your thighs spasmed violently. You could feel your eyes closing against your will, body and mind overcome with tiredness, yet somehow hazy and feeling like floating from being deprived of such activities for so long.

In the background you could hear Taehyung fiddling with the drawer of his bedside table before he cut the most restrictive parts of the rope around your wrists and thighs. “Did I hurt you?” His soft persona was back as he peppered your face with kisses, fingers wiping your tears away before he cut the rest of the silky ribbon, hands immediately massaging your tender skin.

“Not really, I missed that actually. I missed you.”

His face softened as he took your face between his hands, pouring all of his love in a kiss, an apology and a love letter at the same time as his mouth moved in sync with your own. “I’ll run you a bath and then we can order takeout. You’ll have to share your newly renovated and exclusively Gucci wardrobe though.”

You nodded slightly at him while already having your head resting on the pillow, sleep taking over you as you faintly heard your boyfriend running the water to fill up the bathtub for you.

#bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #thebtswritersclub #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung oneshot #taehyung fanfic

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hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years ago

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Pink is the Color of Love (G.W.)

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Cursing

To say that your week had been bad would be an understatement. On Monday you had woken up too late to go to the Great Hall for breakfast which left you in an uncharacteristically bad mood. A bad mood that landed you in a two-hour detention with Snape, causing you to miss a quidditch practice at the behest of your captain. On Tuesday you’d left your charms essay on the couch in your common room, an excuse Flitwick didn’t believe. On Wednesday you’d snapped at a poor first year who had run into you in the halls, a moment that had been witnessed by none other than Professor Snape, a man you swore had it out for you. That little incident had cost Hufflepuff five points, which only further sullied your week. And on Thursday, a thread had begun to run on your uniform. And when you attempted to pull it off, nearly half of your sweater unraveled. So when you awoke on Friday morning, you prayed that the final day of the school week would go by uneventfully. So when the sun filtered its way through the curtains and forced your eyes open, you let yourself hope that today would be a good day.

And then you looked into the mirror.

You hear your shriek escape you before you even realize that you’re screaming. You furiously rub at your skin to no avail, hoping that you could somehow fix the predicament that you found yourself in.

“(Y/n) what’s the matter- oh my Godric,” your roommate says, sidling up beside you. You turn to look at her, angry hot tears forming in your eyes.

“So it’s that bad huh,” you ask sarcastically, your voice breaking partway through the sentence.

“(Y/n)... You’re pink,” she says, clearly at a loss for words. You chuckle darkly.

“Wow thank you, Michelle, I didn’t even notice,” you bite back. Michelle flinches at your words. You turn back to look into the mirror, assessing the damage that has been done. Michelle was right, you were pink. A very hot pink to be exact. Every inch of your skin had been replaced with the flaming hot color. You found yourself furiously rubbing against your skin once again, somehow deluding yourself into believing that it would somehow get rid of the pink. After a few moments of this, you turn back to Michelle, who is looking at you with nothing but pity in her eyes. You bite down on your lip hard, attempting to keep the tears at bay. Michelle pulls you into a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around you while you lay against her limply.

“What am I going to do?” you ask her, voice thick with emotion. She pulls back from you and holds onto your shoulders.

“You stay here today. I’ll tell our professors that you’re sick. Okay (Y/n)?” She says in a nurturing tone. You sniffle and wipe your nose.

“I don’t know Michelle. We have an exam in potions today and you already know Snape hates me. What if he won’t let me take it later? I can’t afford a bad grade in his class,” you reply. Michelle shakes her head slightly.

“Well, Snape’s an ass,” she says.

“Yeah, an ass that could fail me,” you retort, beginning to become frustrated. Michelle sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulder.

“Fine. But are you really going to go to class like that?” she asks.

“I guess I have to,” you say.

“I mean it has to wear off eventually. Or maybe Madame Pomfrey has an antidote or something, though I’m not sure she’d know how to fix this,” Michelle says, gesturing to you. You groan in frustration and fling yourself back onto your bed.

“Yeah I doubt she just keeps an antidote around for pink skin,” you say bitterly, running your hands over your face.

“Do you know who did this to you,” Michelle asks from her place by the mirror. You frown to yourself. You hadn’t thought about that yet, too caught up in your anger at your condition and your ruined week.

“I have no idea,” you reply, moving to prop yourself up on your elbows. “Who’d want to do this to me?” you question.

“Maybe that first year you almost hexed the other day,” Michelle said with a laugh. She snapped her mouth shut once she caught sight of your glare.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Well, obviously whoever did this to you got their materials from the Weasley twins. Zonkos doesn’t sell anything like this,” Michelle continues casually. You sit up with a start.

“Of course! Oh, Michelle, you’re a genius!” you practically yell, jumping up from your bed.

“Huh? I know but what did I do to deserve the title?” Michelle asks as you grab your wand from your nightstand. You smile at her mischievously.

“If the Weasley twins made whatever turned me pink, then they obviously have the cure,” you say as you quickly slip on your slippers. Michelle’s mouth forms an “O” as she realizes your plan. You shout a quick goodbye before heading out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you march down the halls towards the Gryffindor common room you find yourself lost in your thoughts and getting increasingly angry.

How dare they! Who gave them the right to mess with people’s lives for profit? You think to yourself as you near the large portrait that guards the room. Your frown deepens as the stress of your entire week envelope you. By the time you stand in front of the fat lady, you feel anger coursing through your veins like an uncontrollable wave.

“Password?” she asks, looking down on you with a wide-eyed expression.

“I don’t know the damn password just let me in!” you shout back at her, red hot anger overtaking you.

“Do you actually think I am going to let you in if you don’t know the password? Are you daft?” she responds haughtily. You feel you face flush (though considering your skin was already a deep shade of pink, you weren’t sure if anyone could tell) with rage.

“I swear to Merlin if you don’t let me in there right now I will rip down your frame with my bare hands! Do you understand me?” you yell back. You watch her expression morph into one of extreme shock before she is pushed open by a group of first years who appear to be on their way to breakfast. Your gaze snaps to them, watching as their eyes widen at the sight of your appearance. You quickly take advantage of the situation and shoulder your way into the common room. The portrait hole closes behind you with a bang, causing the students in the room to all to turn their attention to you. You glower at them all, not caring how you must’ve looked with your hot pink skin, pajamas, slippers, and extreme bed head.

“Where are they?” you growl, eyes shifting around the common room. An array of hands point to a couch on the far side of the room. You turn to look at the couch to see one twin sitting on it, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him. His face was twisted into an amused smirk as he took in your appearance. You began to stalk your way over to him, the other Gryffindors practically jumping out of your way. You arrive in front of him, the redhead still donning the same obnoxious expression.

“Weasley,” you say, seething.

“Speaking. How can I help you?” He replies, amusement lacing his voice.

“Give me the cure for whatever it is that you did to me,” you spit out.

“I’m sorry love but I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Fred Weasley I swear to-”

“It’s George actually,” he says from his spot down on the couch.

“I don’t give a damn which one of you this is! Just give me the antidote,” you scream. “I have had possibly the worst week of my entire life so I need you to give me the cure right now or so help me God,” you say, anger lacing every word. George at least has the decency to look guilty for a moment, but the look is quickly replaced with another overconfident smirk.

“I really am sorry but there’s nothing I can do,” he says, holding his hands up in front of him. You huff in anger before grabbing the collar of his uniform, pulling his up out of his sitting position to be eye to eye with you.

“George Weasley I do not care if there is nothing you can do. You will find some way to fix me or I swear on my life that I will castrate you!” you say through gritted teeth. George looks shocked for a moment before a grin spreads across his face.

“Promise?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. You frown, pulling him slightly closer to your face.

“Weasley do not test me,” you retort. George stares at you for a moment, smirking. He then looks over your shoulder at his younger brother.

“Ron? Go fetch Fred for me? And tell him to bring the antidote for the skin tinting potion,” he says with a smile. You release his uniform from your grip, stepping back slightly.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says with a lopsided grin. You turn over your shoulder and see Ron scrambling up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. You glance around the common room and realize how many eyes are on you before crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from their gaze. You steal a quick glance at George only to see him still looking at you with that dumb smirk on his face. You attempt to scowl at him, but now that you have been made aware of the audience you garnered, you can’t quite muster it up. You look back down at your feet, mentally scolding yourself for running out of your dorm before you thought to change your clothes. If the scene you had just made wasn’t embarrassing enough, you were wearing an old tshirt for a muggle boyband and slippers shaped like rabbits. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

After what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes Ron returned with another red head at his side.

“What is it George,” Fred asks, clearly still half asleep. George turns his gaze away from you and turns to his twin.

“Did you bring the antidote?” He asks. Fred rolls his eyes before producing it from the pocket of his robes.

“Yes George. Why do you need it?” he asks. George gestures to you before saying, “This young lady right here threatened to castrate me if I didn’t find her a cure.” Fred turns to look at you, seemingly just noticing your presence, before beginning to laugh. If your face could turn any pinker you were sure that it would.

“Oh Merlin I can’t believe that really worked!” Fred exclaims. “I really had my doubts about this potion but clearly I was wrong,” he says proudly. You flare your nostrils in annoyance.

“Weasley,” you say. “Can you please just hand over the antidote?” Fred taps his chin for a moment, as if in deep thought.

“I’m not sure. It’s against our company policy. After all we were paid good money for you to look like that,” he answers. You feel your expression shift into a glare before turning to look at George.

“George, you told me I would be getting the antidote,” you say.

“Hey, I never promised anything,” he says with his hands held out in front of him. You scowl at him.

“Do I need to remind you of the conversation we had a few minutes ago?” you ask. With that, George turns towards his brother with a smile.

“Fred, if my balls are in this much trouble I think we ought to give her the cure,” he states, crossing his arms. Fred gives him an incredulous look.

“George what are you-” Fred begins.

“Come on mate just give her the antidote,” George says, cutting off his brother. The twins stare at eachother for a second, appearing to have a silent conversation. Fred eventually sighs and gives you the bottle.

“Congratulations, you’ve become the first exception to our ‘no antidote’ rule. I hope you enjoy your day pink free,” he says in a slightly sarcastic tone. You smile triumphantly before grabbing the bottle.

“Thank you very much,” you reply as you examine the potion in your hand. You quickly look back up at the twins. You nod at them before turning around and making your escape towards the portrait hole. The other Gryffindors avert their eyes and pretend that they hadn’t been listening in on the whole conversation while the twins stare after you. After the portrait hole closes behind you Fred turns to face his brother.

“What the hell was that?” he asks. George continues to stare at the portrait whole, almost like he was in a daze.

“Huh?”

“I can’t believe you gave her the antidote! We had an agreement and that kid payed us for the potion so you can’t just go around curing people for free! What if hat kid wants a refund now or-”

“Freddie?” George says, interrupting his brother’s rant. Fred lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes Geroge?”

“I think I may have just fallen in love."

#George weasley #george weasley x reader #harry potter #oliver phelps #george weasley imagine #george weasley/reader #george weasley/you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george wealsey x reader

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whereisten · 4 years ago

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The Interview

A Doyoung fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: you’re a journalist that just booked her biggest gig, an interview with Doyoung, a vampire notorious for a series of murders in your city.

Pairing: Vampire!Doyoung x female reader

Other characters: Best friend!Johnny

Genre: horror, angst, smut, violence

Word count: 8.7 K

Warnings: blood mention, descriptions of murder and violence, cursing, smut! (Threesome (MMF), breast fondling, fingering, male masturbation, oral sex, penetration, slight overstimulation, c*eampie.), mentions of chains and knives.

A/N: I am sorry for taking so long to post this, but I hope you enjoy!! I didn’t proofread (shocker) so there may be some errors but I will fix them later. THANK YOU GUYS AGAIN FOR THE SUPPORT FOR OUR HALLOWEEN SERIES AHHHH!! It’s been so much fund and I hope you guys enjoy the last few fics we have coming up!!

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You entered the house and walked hesitantly inside, looking around to observe all of the meticulous paintings and art. The mansion was dark and gloomy, it sent a chill through your body to imagine all of the horrors and secrets it held within it. So much murder, so much blood and death. And yet, it was kept in pristine condition by a loyal maid. Not a speck of dust in sight, and no stench to even indicate a single crime having been committed.

You sat down in his office on a cushioned loveseat before you placed your recorder on the coffee table in between your seat and his.

You heard the jingles of his handcuffs and the many footsteps of police entering a few minutes after.

He sat down across from you as you cleared your throat. You noticed his irritated and burgundy red wrists being burned by the handcuffs around them made of pure silver.

He was stunning, like a painting himself. His skin looked like it was made of the most expensive marble, his eyes looked playful, but held a dark glint about them that you couldn’t shake. His arms were in front of him as his hands were held together by the handcuffs, you couldn’t ignore the obvious presence of his biceps as they strained against the thin material of his long sleeved prison uniform. His veins also bulged from his wrists all the way to his neck.

The devastatingly handsome man looked...hungry.

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip as he watches you observe his features.

“Oh, a pretty one for once, thank God.” He smirks.

You look at him sternly and press record on the mechanism in between you two.

“Good afternoon, Doyoung, my name is y/n. Today, I’ll be asking you a few questions about the crimes you’ve committed, but first, I would like for you to confirm your identity.”

You hold your iPad in your arm and start to type a description of his features and what he is wearing.

Doyoung laughs.

You stop writing and look up at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m chained up in my own house, and not in the sexual way for once…”

You look back to your iPad.

“Unless..you’d like to change that..” he says with a low tone that makes your body shiver.

“Doyoung..you’ve just been sentenced to a lifetime in prison for the brutal murders of 36 people. I’d appreciate it if you’d just answer a few questions so we can both go about our day.”

“Oh dear, I won’t tell you anything unless you get these barbaric things off of me, and get these useless men out of here.” He tilts his head towards the police officers behind his seat.

You shake your head. “No can do Doyoung, you’re a danger man, if they leave I’m done for.”

He chuckles lowly. “Don’t you trust me, sweetheart? My maid is no longer here, she testified against me and fled the country, so obviously I have no intention of ruining my place with anyone’s blood while she’s gone.” A smile crosses his face and it makes you uneasy.

You shouldn’t have done what you did next, but for the sake of writing a damn good article for Neo chronicles, you knew you had to. This trip would’ve been a waste of time and effort. It took you months to convince your boss to get you an interview with Doyoung, the notorious vampire that was just found guilty of capital murder.

He could tear you to shreds in moments with his hands and teeth, but something told you to ask that he be free..just for a few minutes.

He leans forward and keeps your eyes in his gaze. “You want them to release these cuffs, don’t you?”

You swallow hard then look up at the head police officer.

“He won’t cooperate unless you leave and take the handcuffs with you, please…” you beg, but the officer immediately shakes his head.

“Under strict orders from the judge, we cannot do that. It’s a miracle that we were even allowed to bring him back here.”

The tall man says without budging.

Doyoung turns to look at him. “Officer...these cuffs really hurt..it’ll only be for a few minutes..please.”

The officer furrows his eyebrows.

“Officer..I promise it’ll only take 15 minutes.” You continue.

“Fine...we’ll be right outside the door.”

You’re surprised to see that the officer agrees. He takes his key and opens up the cuffs. He then places them beside you on your chair.

“Slap these on the son of a bitch if he tries anything.”

You nod. A part of you felt so uneasy now that you were alone with him, but you had to make the most of it and get some information out of him while you could. No one could do what you were about to do, for Doyoung would be put away for life in a few days.

The door clicks and the room falls silent.

Doyoung turns to you and already starts to heal his wrists. “Well, then...should we get started?”

“Where are you from?” You ask.

He raises an eyebrow and throws an arm over the head of his seat.

“I’m from this city, dear.. I was just raised in a very different one...a few hundred years ago, without the cars, without the noise..”

“You’re the first of your kind that society has come across. Are there any more like you?”

He chuckles then looks at you and tilts his head. “There’s no one like me..”

You lick your lips quickly and lean forward. “Are there any more vampires, Doyoung?”

“Of course there are, some lurk in the shadows, some live boldly as the very doctors that take care of you. No one from my bloodline is alive however.” His gaze shifts downward as if he’s reminiscing.

“How do the vampires survive without being caught?”

He looks back up at you. “We just feed on animals to get by.”

Your heart began to race, you were finally getting information that no one else knew about, for Doyoung never spoke a word to investigators looking for answers about vampires.

“So why did you feed on humans and kill them instead of changing them?”

“For survival, sweetheart. I’m a man with very expensive taste..I’ve been killing humans for years, but I got lazy and decided to not run from city to city..I’d take out anyone that was evil or treated others like shit..some of my victims deserved it, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

You looked to the side. You did notice that he mainly killed other murderers or robbers.

“Furthermore, humans have polluted the earth so badly, the taste of animals that feed off of diseased grass is just disgusting. I couldn’t take it anymore.” His face winces.

“And human blood..is it good?”

Doyoung smirks. “Oh, my love, you have no idea. It’s sweet and savory, there’s nothing like it..and if I may say, it’s even better when the subject surrenders willingly.”

“Did your subjects surrender willingly?”

He looks up and tries to think. He taps his chin. “No..I don’t think any of those bastards surrendered, they were quick fixes to my thirst. There was one woman though..Hmm what was her name?...Was it Diamond or Daisy?”

You closed your eyes as you listened to him struggle to remember the names of his victim.

“Darlene..her real name was Darlene, but she went by Tiffany at the strip club she worked at.”

“Ahhh! Yes! Darlene..she was sweet, magnificent. I remember taking her in the back of my car, she was ecstatic. She felt amazing around me, so warm. Her body shook as I stretched her out and played with her beautiful womanhood..such a shame.. she was so willing.”

You swallowed hard as tears filled your eyes. Doyoung was making light of a dark situation that ended in the murder of a young woman just trying to live her life.

He leans forward to get your attention. “First..I tasted her lips, then I placed my tongue around her hard nubs. I traced my tongue down her abdomen and all the way...down, before letting it rest on her folds. I licked up her essence and listened to her moan and breathe heavily. I can still hear the rush of her blood in her veins. I can still taste her trembling core on the tip of my tongue, and feel her velvety walls around my fingers.”

You cross your legs as his voice lowers more and more with each sentence.

His dark eyes hold onto yours as his smile grows. He can smell the pool building in your underwear.

“In and out, I moved in and out, circling around her bud before she came hard all over my mouth. But I licked it up and kissed her thigh as she begged for more. She tasted delicious and brain became flooded with thoughts of just how wonderful her blood would taste too. So I wrapped her legs around my waist and pushed into her, sliding in between her delicious and wet folds and hitting her sweet spot over and over.”

“Doyoung..” you turn away and gulp, but he grabs your chin within a split second of standing up in front of you.

He tilts your head upwards and gazes down at your lips.

“I placed two fingers into her mouth...just like this.”

On instinct, your mouth falls open, allowing him to place two fingers onto your tongue. Your mind went crazy, half of it screaming for you to look away from the dangerous man, the other half saying “yes, God, yes.”

You sat with your mouth agape, waiting for him to continue.

“If only you could taste her...nonetheless, when she came again, her eyes rolled in the back of her head and the veins of her neck stuck out to me, begging to be punctured into. I sucked her dry even as she clenched around me from the overwhelming pleasure.”

He withdrew his fingers, licking them as his eyes held onto yours.

“Your lips must be delicious too.”

You snapped yourself out of your daze and shook your head.

“Doyoung, what the hell?”

He sits back into his chair. “Any more questions, love?”

You clear your throat again and look at your iPad.

“Uhh..what are your abilities?”

He smirks. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine one of them. But in addition to that, we are fast, strong, powerful beings. Some can read minds, some can hypnotize..we are what humans aim to be, perfect beings.”

Your face grows into one of disgust. “With the exception of having the burning need to murder, right?”

He chuckles once more and rolls his eyes. “Humans kill all the time, what makes us so different if we do it for survival? Murders are done out of rage against those that are simply different in terms of religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation all the time, why aren’t you interviewing those bastards?”

You hesitate.

He leans towards you and crosses his arms.

“What if you could make this world a better place by getting rid of those that commit crimes against the helpless? I can see that you’re one that believes in justice.. you can be like me, but use your abilities for good..”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not, you’re a monster. Just because you killed for survival does not negate the fact that you still took many lives.”

He leans back and nods. “Oh, pity then. I thought I’d have a partner for my getaway. I would’ve loved to keep such a pretty face by my side..”

Your eyes widen, you lean back and reach for the handcuffs..but they’re not there.

He jumps up from his seat.

You stand up as well. “What are you doing?”

But within seconds, your arms are behind your back and locked in the handcuffs that he stole from beside you.

“Doyoung!”

He pushes your body so that it lays back down on the love seat. You stare in horror as he crawls over you while looking up your scared face through his lashes.

He licks his lips.

“Thank you for giving me this chance to get away..”

“Help!!” You call out and soon the police break through the double doors.

Doyoung flicks his head towards them and holds out his hand. “Halt!”

He yells and they stop in their tracks.

You cry out. “Doyoung!!” But he’s already dug into each and every one’s necks and ripped into their throats.

Blood platters across the room and the bodies fall down dead almost unanimously as Doyoung moves incredibly fast. He appears as a blur one moment and the next moment, he is over you again, but this time with the lower half of his face covered in crimson liquid and his eyes intense.

He licks your collarbone, slowly trailing his tongue up your neck then to your chin. You tremble and cry as your heart races.

“Mmmmm...sweetheart, I’d take you right here, but you’ll taste so much better when you give in to me completely, I’ll see you soon.”

He disappears, you only hear the breaking of a window behind you.

You close your eyes tightly and sob.

The police officers that were outside in their cars immediately run into the house when they see that Doyoung has flown away.

They open your handcuffs and console you as you turn away from all of the dead bodies on the floor.

When things finally settled, you noticed that Doyoung had taken your recorder, leaving you without proof that this interview even happened.

———

[3 Months Later]

A national manhunt for Doyoung had been going on for months, no one saw the man or..creature. The good part about his absence was that there were no more killings. You tried your best to explain what happened that day, but you couldn’t. Everything felt blurry, all you could feel was this longing to be with him again. He had you under his grasp in just a few minutes, but that partially wasn’t your fault. You were hypnotized, just as the police officer taking him out of handcuffs was.

But you couldn’t help but feel guilty when you thought about the lives lost that day, the families that weren’t with their loved ones anymore because of your weakness. You swore it would never happen again.

You were released from your job at the Neo Chronicles, your boss was embarrassed and dealt with the harshest treatment from not only the legal system, but from the media as well. No one understood how such a huge mistake could be made. They had him and were ready to punish him for his crimes, but in just a few minutes, they lost him, the only vampire known to man.

You worked from home now, uploading conspiracy theories to your own website where people could submit photos, videos or written accounts of their experiences with the supernatural. They could do this anonymously if they wished. You wrote about Doyoung and the vampire community, you even went out at night at farms or in the woods to try to catch vampires in the act of taking blood from them, but you had no luck.

You would set your life to finding Doyoung, you’d make him pay for what he did to you. Even if you were intrigued by him, you’d make him suffer. However, you couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t kill you as well.

———

[One Month Later]

You were about to do some research on cult practices that involved sacrifices, when you heard a knock at your door. You jumped up in your chair at your desk and turned to the door.

You swallowed hard. Had you done too much digging? Was someone tracking you? Were you being watched all this time?

Maybe you shouldn’t have visited the dark web.

You stand up slowly and walk to the door. You hear another knock.

You grab a tennis racket you placed by your door after playing tennis earlier that day. You then look through the peephole and see him.

Your heart started to race. Should you call the authorities? Should you scream for help? No. They would just be too slow, they’d be gone by the time a shriek escaped your throat.

You quickly opened it and held up your racket.

“Ah!!!” You yelled as you swung it, but he grabbed it with one hand and broke in two effortlessly.

Your eyes widened as he stood there with one corner of his mouth tilted upwards. His eyes sparkled in the darkness.

Your jaw fell open while the rackets ripped to your doorstep in two separate pieces.

“Invite me in...I have the recorder.” He demands through a husky tone.

You breathe heavily. “I-I..”

“May I come in...sweetheart?” He pouts.

You sigh and nod. “Yes.”

You didn’t want to but he had the evidence that you needed. Maybe you could just take it from him and he’d leave. With that piece of evidence, you could get your job back or make money online with your testimony.

Doyoung speeds past you and sits at your desk.

“Ooooo..satanic cults...interesting!” He searches through your computer.

“Hey!” You lock your door and walk towards him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“How have you been doing, my love? Have you been well? Probably not...seeing that you’re stuck at home now, researching this nonsense.” He ignores your question and stands up from the desk.

You walk after him into the dining room.

“Answer me! Why are you here?”

“Have you thought about my proposal? You’ve had a lot of time..”

“Why didn’t you turn yourself in?!” You grab a knife from your kitchen counter and hold it behind your back.

He takes a look at your 4 day old pizza on your stove top and gags. “You and I both know I wouldn’t dare out well in prison.”

“So why the hell are you here?!” You say a little louder.

He turns to you suddenly and flips you around. In just a few seconds, he pins you against the wall with your cheek pressed against it and your hands behind your back.

You grunt as he presses in your back with your elbow.

“Did you know that you’ve been on my mind every night since that day?” He forces the knife out of your hand and trails the tip down the side of your face.

You wince as you anticipate it breaking your skin, but he only drags it down your neck delicately and watches goosebumps decorate your skin.

He flips you back around so you face him now, he looks down at your chest and breathes heavily over it. He still holds both of your wrists in his hand, clenching his fist around them tightly as you squeal.

“The way you smell, the way you feel, the way you taste...it’s all haunted me..I want you so badly..”

You blink rapidly. “If you want to kill me, why don’t you just do it already.”

Doyoung chuckles and hangs his head low.

“I’m here to ask you again...join me..live as I live and give up this boring life..” he licks long your neck as you struggle in his grasp.

You shake your head.

“No..I don’t want you..I don’t want to be a monster like you.”

He laughs as he smirks while watching your lips. His closeness to you makes you dizzy, but you try to remain firm.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m too old to be fooled, I know you have a recording of our little interview on your ipad..I know you don’t really need that recorder..so why did you invite me in?”

Your face falls. How did he know that you had a second audio recording saved to your iPad.

“Okay...fine, I wanted a reason to let you in..” you search his eyes.

He smiles and watches your lips.

“Oh? And now that I’m in, what else do you want?”

You pant and lick your lips. “I want..to feel what that woman felt..”

He kisses your neck. “Like this?” He whispers against your heated skin.

Your eyes close as your head falls back. “Yes..take me to my room..” you beg breathily.

He wraps his arms around you and by the time you open your eyes, you’re on your bed with your legs around his waist.

He grinds his covered member into you and listens to you moan.

He continues to kiss your neck and bite teasingly.

He licks over the warm area and moans. The cold touch of his fingertips makes you yearn for him more.

“This is what I missed, the taste of your beautiful skin..”

He looks down at you through wide eyes, he adores your lips and eyes, watching as you finally give in to him like he’s longed for.

He leans down and kisses your lips.

You reach above your head and place your hands under your pillow. You grab a specialized collar.

“Look at me, Doyoung.” You whisper in between kisses.

He releases your lips and looks up. You suddenly lock the collar around his throat.

He hisses, flying to the ceiling and grabbing at it in an attempt to take it off, but he has no luck.

The collar made of pure silver sends violent and painful shockwaves through his body whenever he touches it.

It tightens slowly to stop him from breathing.

His eyes grow. “What..what have you done to me?” He says as he dangles from the ceiling and looks down at you on the bed with a smile on your face.

“Oh Doyoung, you’re old but you still didn’t see this coming..” you chuckle, everything went as planned.

“Please...please stop this...” he reaches out for you as he gasps for air.

You stand up from the bed and look up at him.

“I’ll explain this quickly since you’ll be unconscious in about three minutes..”

He loses his grip from the ceiling, falling onto the bed limply.

“Do you remember a tall fellow that you bit one evening as he walked home from work?”

Doyoung groans in pain.

“I’ll take that as a no..” you continue. “Well, this victim’s name was Johnny, he owns Johnny’s Café and locked up kinda late that night when you found him. He became your prey and in the blink of an eye, was left to die in a dirty alleyway. No one was there to help him, no one…” your eyes start to water.

“He was my best friend..and you killed him. Or so I thought..you see, you made a grave mistake with this “murder.” You didn’t ensure his death by sucking until you heard the very last beat of his pulse. You got what you wanted and left him there with a faint pulse. He was able to pull his phone out and call me..I found him through Find My iPhone, and when I inspected his injuries..I realized that he had been attacked by a vampire.”

Doyoung’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he takes his final breaths.

“It was my first time seeing such a wound since I was young. Guess what, Doyoung? My family has hunted vampires since the beginning of time..my grandparents were sure that they had killed all of you in this city...but it seems we hadn’t, and Johnny’s attack is what brought this issue to my attention. Lucky for me, you fell right into my hands, making it easy for me to gain more information about your kind and the actual status of vampires in our city. I was ill-prepared for your hypnosis, however. That’s why I couldn’t lock you down the first time.”

You walk up to him and caress his pale face. You then yank his arm and drag him through your house and down to your basement.

You throw him down the stairs and walk down.

You both hear yelling and crying.

That’s when Doyoung sees him. That night starts to come back to him, the night when he attacked Johnny.

Johnny is chained to a wall in your basement. His hair is long and disheveled. He yells as he begs for food. His fangs stick out, he looks weak and terrified.

Doyoung gasps. “I didn’t mean for this to happen..”

“This is where he will have to stay, I can’t turn him in because he’s my best friend, but I also can’t kill him or set him free to murder innocent people like a maniac..I will fix him, I swear I will.”

You flip the lid off of a coffin and throw Doyoung into it after much effort. Luckily, he was quite weak from the collar already.

“Even though you turned my best friend into a monster, I am thankful to you for bringing all of your kind’s secrets to light. I will find each one, and I will kill them.” You smirk.

“Enjoy prison, you monster.”

Doyoung only smiles. “I’ll be back, sweetheart. Hunting you will make for a lifetime of joy.”

You shut the lid over the coffin and nail it shut.

You drag the coffin upstairs using a pulley system then call the police to retrieve him.

—————

[2 Years Later]

You enjoy your life as a journalist once again. You gained wealth and notoriety for your interview with Doyoung. You also hunt and kill vampires that killed animals, you finally had used the training from your family to do so.

“I never thought you’d have to do this..” your mom said one day when you visited her for tea.

“I thought..we killed them all and kept you and the rest of our world safe.”

“They’re like roaches..they never die.” Your dad yelled from the living room.

“It is what it is..” you took a sip from your cup.

“But tell me, once one has changed...is there any way to turn them back?”

You thought of Johnny and how you had to watch him suffer now for the past two years. You loved him dearly and spent hours on the dark web searching for clues as to what to do, but nothing worked.

You didn’t tell your parents, for fear that they would tell you to kill him immediately or they’d do it themselves.

You wouldn’t give up on you, you just couldn’t.

The two of you were friends for her 10 years, how could you even think of killing him?

Your mother laughed. “Honey..we’ve tried everything, there’s no way…once they change, the hunger roars through them, making them impossible to tame.”

You nodded.

“What is it you're not telling me?” She tilted her head when she saw the look of worry in your eyes.

“Nothing, it’s just...some of these people are good people..I just wish we didn’t have to kill them..”

“People? They’re not people! They’re savages and self-centered barbarians! Don’t fall for it, all they do is lure in victims for their own gain. They have no conscience.” Your father walked into the dining room with a freshly carved stake.

“Here.” He hands it to you. “You kill those bastards without any thought in your head, they’re meant to seduce you, make you think that they’re innocent humans with beating and good hearts, but they’re not! Kill them before they kill us.”

You nod and take it from him.

—————

[1 Year Later]

You receive news that Doyoung has broken free from prison. No one knows of his whereabouts so all eyes turn to you.

“We can set up police around your place to keep watch if you’d like..” your boss tells you.“There’s a chance that he’ll come after you first.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

You weren’t scared at all, and having police around would only draw more attention to you than you needed. What if they heard Johnny in your basement? What if they saw you bringing in live rabbits in the middle of the night?

And if something were wrong, they’d eventually go into your basement only to find a series of hunting weapons and digging gear, for you always buried the vampires you killed deep in the woods.

You headed home and walked in slowly.

The air felt crisp and cool, the night sky peered in through your windows. You looked around and that’s when you noticed that one of them were open, the wind blowing the curtain that should’ve been drawn over it.

You hold your stake close to you and quickly walk over to it.

You slam it down shut and turn the lock, but by the time you turn back around to head to your room, you see Doyoung.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He stands just a few feet away from you with blood dripping down his mouth and neck in a steady pool.

You step back and walk around in a circle.

Doyoung smirks and walks in a circle towards you too.

“You knew I would be here, and yet, you came home on time..are you not afraid of me?”

He chuckles and holds his arms out.

You raise your stake in front of you.

“Do I look like I’m afraid of you?”

Doyoung tilts his head and pouts. “I’m not sure, your heart is racing, the sweat on your forehead is building, your grip on the stake is weak..”

“I didn’t give you permission to come in..”

He shakes his head. “No no, you didn’t..but someone in this house did.”

Your steps falter for a moment and you swallow hard.

When you listen closely, you hear something happening in your kitchen.

Then your eyes widen when you realize.

“Johnny..”

You gasp and run into the kitchen.

Doyoung laughs loudly.

You scream when you see Johnny sucking blood from a woman’s neck in the middle of your kitchen.

“No!!!”

“I’ve missed you, my love...but I see you kept him around, locked up in the basement for fun..I used my senses to contact him and tell him to give me permission. You see, he doesn’t enjoy being locked up in your basement.”

Doyoung stands behind you and crosses his arms while leaning against the doorway.

“Johnny!! Stop this please, this isn’t you!” You try to shake him off of the woman but all Johnny sees is red. He has never had human blood before and now his eyes have been opened. You start to cry, your stake drops out of your hand.

“He can’t hear you, he’s enjoying what will now be his favorite meal in the kitchen.”

Doyoung grabs you by the neck and slams you against the wall. You yell out in pain.

“And here we are again, but this time we have some unfinished business, you and I...what should I do with you?”

You shake your head as he lifts your body nearly four feet off the ground while choking you.

“Please Doyoung, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have turned you in..please, just let me go, I’ll run far from here and leave the two of you alone to kill as you please.” Seeing Johnny like this leaves you broken. You can’t believe he’s free to live as a monster after all of your efforts to protect him.

“But running will only make me want you more, I enjoy this game that we play..”

“Doyoung…” you tap his wrist as it becomes difficult to breathe.

“Being choked isn't so nice, is it?”

“What..what do you want from me?”

“I want you, but I like that you’re a challenge, you make my life exciting, and now that I have you here, I want to let you go again just so I can watch you run.” He grins.

“You can shoot some arrows or throw a few stakes, how about it, y/n?”

“Fuck you! I’m not some toy!”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Then take my offer..I’ll only ask one more time..will you give in to me?”

You start to shake your head, but Johnny rises up from the body on the floor. He runs his hands through his long black hair and licks his lips while panting.

“Y/n..I feel...amazing.” He smiles at you. Even after all these years of you feeding him small animals and keeping him locked up, he still looked at you with love.

You cry harder. “No..Johnny..please don’t give in, I can fix you, I’ll find a way to turn you back.”

He chuckles then steps closer to you. He already looks healthier with the heavy dose of human blood he just consumed. “And you’ve been searching relentlessly for this cure for how long now?”

Doyoung lets your body slide back down the wall as he loosens his grip.

“I’m so close, just trust me.”

“Y/n..Look at how happy he is, don’t you want to be happy too?”

“yes..join us..” Johnny traces his finger down the side of your face.

“No!” You suddenly push Doyoung off of you and dive to the floor for your stake.

You jump back up but Doyoung takes you into his arms.

“Is this what you want?! To die instead of being with your best friend forever?!”

You press the tip of the stake into his chest, you’re so close, but your mind doesn’t allow you to push harder.

“Do it! Kill me!” He doesn’t put you under hypnosis because he wants to see what your true desire is.

Doyoung watches your sad eyes as you struggle to stab him.

Him being so close to you makes you weak, you don’t know why, but you fall into him more.

You second guess everything and your will weakens more and more each second.

You lean forward and kiss Doyoung’s lips finally.

You relax into his arms as his tongue traces over your lips to enter.

You swallow back your disgust from the taste of blood on his lips and close your eyes. A rush runs through your body, it’s like you’re being commanded by waves at the beach, your body just enjoying the feeling of floating in his arms.

The stake falls out of your weak hands. Johnny comes up behind you, kissing your neck from behind while circling his arms around your waist.

If you could just distract them for a few more moments..you could catch them off guard, take them to your room and grab the stake under your pillow..just a few more minutes..

Then..a sharp pain makes you jolt. Your eyes fly open. Johnny’s fangs dig into your neck. He sucks hard while you groan.

“Johnny!” You cry out, but then you moan as a feeling of euphoria washes over your body. You feel amazing, your mind goes blank, a soft, tingly sensation makes you weak as blood rushed from your veins and to his mouth. You’re drunk from their love and you want more.

Doyoung continues to kiss your lips and smiles when he feels you finally giving in to him.

Your heartbeat drives him crazy, he just can’t stop thinking about how good you must taste, so he takes the two of you to your room and lays down beside you on your bed.

Your neck is bent backwards towards Johnny behind you still, your hard nipples covered by your dress are just begging for his mouth.

“Do you give in to me, dear?” His lustful voice echoes in your ear.

“Yes..” you whimper.

In one swift move, Doyoung tears your dress off and throws it to the floor. He licks your hard nubs passionately, darting his tongue out and playing around with them with the tip.

Johnny continues to suck slowly, his hand reaching to your front side. He placed two fingers in between your legs, swatting away your thighs so your legs open more.

You are enraptured by them, completely forgetting your plan. But it didn’t matter anyway, your fate was sealed the moment Johnny bit you. He would either suck you dry or leave you alive to turn into one of them.

A part of you feels regret, but another part has come to terms with your situation. Right now you were focused on the yearning in your chest that made you tremble and the building heat between your legs that needed to be tended to.

Without warning, Doyoung bites your breast and sucks hard after latching his lips around the nipple.

He groans as he listens to you yelp.

You run your hand through his hair. “Yes..that feels so good.” You felt like you were already climaxing with both men sucking your blood at the same time.

Johnny’s fingers push past the waistband of your underwear and presses against your folds.

Doyoung sucks harder, the taste of your blood is sweet and intoxicating, he never wants to stop.

You feel Johnny’s long fingers rub circles into your clit, your legs widen more as you ache for more. He lets go of your neck and nibbles your ear.

“Can I?” He asks seductively.

“Yes..” you bite your bottom lip, your body becoming more and more turned on from Doyoung’s mouth and Johnny’s touch.

You can feel Johnny’s hard member against your back as he pushes one finger into your throbbing opening, sliding it in effortlessly.

“You’re wet…” he pulls his finger out and places it into your mouth. You moan while licking his finger.

“So wet..” he then pushes two fingers in, your body flinches as he pumps in and out of your. Your head is dizzy, you felt that you’ve lost too much blood. You’re too weak and Doyoung feels it too.

He gives your breasts a few more kitten licks to clean up the blood on it, then looks into your eyes.

“How do you feel, my love?”

“I’m-I’m dizzy..” you moan shortly after as Johnny adds a third finger and presses upward while inside your pussy.

Doyoung smiles when he sees your low eyes. “It’s time for you to feed..”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Doyoung uses his nail and digs a vertical line into his throat.

“Taste me..”

“N-no.” You shake your head.

“This is what you are now, y/n..just taste him and you’ll know..” Johnny whispers into your ear.

You stick your tongue out hesitantly and lick up the trail of blood on his neck. It tastes wonderful, amazing and different. You didn’t know what to describe it as but you felt that rush from earlier run through your body once more.

You lick again, this time, placing your mouth into the wound and actually sucking more blood out.

Doyoung groans while pushing his pants down and taking his member out. He strokes it up and down and pants as you suck hard. You can’t use your fangs yet, but the feeling is still magnificent for him as well.

You need more, a hunger builds in your body and you tilt over Doyoung more to apply pressure.

Johnny withdraws his fingers, allowing you to completely kneel over Doyoung’s lap now.

He lays flat on the bed and watches you mount him. You look beautiful naked, like a goddess. Your eyes are wide with hunger and desire and he’s happy to be at the center of it all. He aligns his cock with your opening, watching as you slide down onto it slowly while wincing.

You breathe heavily and lean forward so you can suck his neck again. You place your hands on either side of his head and move up and down slowly, your body already clenching around him as he fills you up completely.

Johnny wraps his hand around his aching cock and strokes it as you ride Doyoung.

Your body becomes cold even as you sweat from the constant movement.

Your mind is flooded with sounds of Johnny’s moans coupled with the new sound of blood rushing through Doyoung’s veins and into your mouth.

He guides you down onto him by placing both hands on your ass. You push down onto him harder and faster, moving your hips so that his cock curves into you and presses against that spot every time.

You whimper as your movements stutter.

Doyoung flips you over onto your back, he watches your mouth, covered in blood, fall open into a loud moan. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me how badly you want to cum.” Doyoung says with an evil smirk across his face covered in your blood now.

He thrusts into you hard and places both hands on your knees. He pushes them further apart and watches as he slams himself into you.

“Johnny..she feels so good..she’s just like you imagined for all these years..”

“But how does she taste?” Johnny strokes himself faster as he aims for your breast.

“Her blood tastes sweeter than any berry, and her pussy? Well, you’ll just have to try that yourself.” He goes faster, so fast you can only feel a satisfying vibration that stimulates your clit.

You throw your head back. “Fuck..Doyoung..”

“Do you want me to stop?” He stops suddenly to tease you.

“No no no no, keep going..please!” You beg in a high pitched tone almost embarrassingly.

He resumes his speed, watching your hands grip the sheets and your eyes roll in the back of your head as you cum.

Doyoung grunts and releases inside you.

He milks himself out completely as you shake from your orgasm. You see stars and entire galaxies, a feeling washing over you like no other feeling.

You gasp and watch Doyoung pull out. He moves to the side while watching his cum leaks out of your entrance.

Johnny then flips your limp body over. He wraps and arm around your waist and pulls you against his hard cock. You’re sensitive so you cry out from suddenly being pushed into by his long member.

He grabs your hair and bends your neck backward before biting into it to suck more of your blood. Your overwhelming sensitivity soon fades away and your climax starts to build again, the feeling in the pit of your stomach becoming nearly unbearable once more.

Johnny’s nails dig into your waist, slamming your ass against his hips as he reaches your depths over and over. He goes crazy from the feeling of your silky walls tightening around his cock. He wants to bury his cum so deep inside your pussy, that it leaks for days. And your sweet blood, he could drink it forever, he could drink you dry.

But Doyoung won’t allow that. “That’s enough..she’ll pass out if we take any more.”

Johnny stops drinking but grunts as he goes harder and faster.

Your knees make an indent in the mattress, you hold onto Doyoung’s hands for support as your mouth falls open.

“Fuck…” all you can mutter are curse words as Johnny destroys you.

Doyoung kneels in front of you, his intimidating cock sticking out hard once again.

He strokes it.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. You had to taste him, again. You craved him.

With low eyes, you maintain eye contact as he fills your mouth and hits the back of your throat. You flatten your tongue, licking the underside of it. You press your tongue hard against every vein then kiss the tip once he pulls back out.

He pushes back in faster this time, listening to you gag and watching as tear up.

You moan to send vibrations through his body. Doyoung throws his head back and mutters “shit..”

You gag again but breathe through your nostrils.

Johnny presses into you one more time before shooting milky strings across your walls. He pants while cursing then lowers himself so that he can taste you from behind. He licks up all the slick that has escaped and sticks his tongue in as deep as possible.

The night went on for hours as you switched positions and brought each other to paradise too many times to count.

You collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep once the three of you were done.

———-

[The Next Morning]

For the first time, sunlight burnt your eyes and made you suffocate. You tried to jump up from the bed, but then you noticed that your legs and arms were tied to a bed that wasn’t yours. You looked around and saw that you were on it by yourself.

Where was Johnny? Where was Doyoung? Why did you feel a burning hunger in your chest?

You recognized the smell of an old building and looked above you. It looked like you were in some sort of castle. You were covered in a thin white sleeping gown that you didn’t recognize either.

“Doyoung!! Johnny!!”

A door in the corner of the room opens and in walks Doyoung with a smirk across his face and something in his hand.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Doyoung..please, I don’t feel good.” You strain against the chains.

Your eyes widen when you realize what dangles from his grasp.

Johnny’s head..

“No!!!!” You scream loudly.

“Oh, like music to my ears..” Doyoung chuckles and dangles the head above your body.

He sees your body through the thin fabric, your breasts and perfect curves, the warmth between your legs that he missed so badly. He almost regretted his decision.

He bit his lip and watched you struggle.

“Doyoung!! Why?!” You sob.

“Because you’re mine, you can’t be his too!”

Doyoung walks back over to the door and chucks the head outside.

He walks back over to you. “Well, now that we know what happened to Johnny, we need to discuss what’ll happen to you.”

“What did you do to me?!” You say through gritted teeth.

“Actually..it was Johnny that turned you..not me, but I made sure to kill him this time.”

Your face fell. This was exactly what Doyoung wanted. He lured you in by using Johnny, then he got Johnny to change you. They both seduced you to crowd your mind and make you too filled with lust to care. And now, you turned into the very thing that you hated the most.

“Now you realize…” Doyoung nods and strokes the side of your face.

“I couldn’t just let you get away with exposing my secrets and putting me in jail..I mean, the sex was amazing, so amazing, but I still couldn’t let you get away with it.”

You shake your head. “Please..I’m yours, I’ll do anything. I always wanted to be yours but I was too stubborn.”

“And the stake under your pillow? Would you have used it against me?” He pouts.

“No! I was going to love you.”

“Love me? A monster?”

“Doyoung please!!”

“This is your prison now...and when you are free, look for me, I’ll be waiting for you, my love..” he walks out and leaves you alone still tied to the bed.

————

[3 Days Later]

You finally break your chains with your new strength. You run out of the room, but find that you are in an old castle. When you run through the destroyed halls and into the courtyard, you see nothing but ocean.

Doyoung left you on the notorious Gil-Eul Castle, a mansion on a secluded island that was hundreds of miles from the nearest coast. It was known as the meeting grounds for vampires long ago, but your family along with other hunters destroyed it, planting bombs in the form of air strikes to kill everyone inside.

You yelled into the sky and ran around rampantly, searching for anything to eat.

You felt like you were going insane without blood. You were literally burning from the inside out because of the lack of blood in your system.

————

[20 Years Later]

You survived the last 20 years off of fish and rats. You never stopped thinking about Doyoung and how you’d get your revenge. You’d kill him slowly, make him suffer like you had, and even though you didn’t look any older, you felt tired and weak from watching the years fly by in a broken castle.

Until one day..a ship approaches the building. You watch from above as several construction workers all onto the island.

You lurk in the shadows and wait until one of them has strayed away from the group.

The man turns around when he feels that he is being followed, but sees nothing.

He turns back around and continues walking.

You reach out from a hallway and grab him by the collar. You feed on him quickly then do the same with the other men. One by one, you kill each man to quench your plentiful years of undying thirst.

But you’re not dumb, you save one of the men so that he can bring you back to your country. The man tells you that they had planned to clear the island and build a resort.

You take your tattered dress off and shower in the bathroom on board. You break down in tears when you feel warm water and soap on your skin for the first time in twenty years. You were finally free.

You find a set of clothes set aside by the workers and put them on. It’s a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that’s not the right size, but it’ll have to work for now.

Once home, you hypnotize the man that brought you back.

“Tell them your team was attacked, you were the only one that survived. It was a man with fangs and pale skin. His name is Doyoung.”

The man nods, then walks off the ship and heads for the police station.

You, on the other hand, go in the opposite direction.

You thought about visiting your parents and letting them know that you were okay, but what would they say now that you were a vampire? Would they try to kill you?

You weren’t sure, so you continued walking to his mansion.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus, you knew that all vampires were connected and that if you tried hard enough, you could sense where he was.

It didn’t take long before you heard his voice. It was coming from an apartment about 10 miles away.

Of course he stayed in a nearby city.

You knocked on his door and waited for him to answer.

With round glasses on, he opened the door and smiled widely. “I knew you’d find me..”

“Invite me in.” Your voice was stern.

Doyoung nodded. “Of course.”

“Are you here to kill me?” He walks behind you.

“Yes.”

“Then go ahead.”

You turn to him.

“Why did you do this to me?”

“Life is pretty boring for an old man like me..I wanted to do something different.” He sits on the couch, then pats his thigh. “One last time before I say goodbye. I’ve missed you..”

You scoff. “You never came back, so I couldn’t really tell.”

“You were in solitary confinement, what could I do?”

You walk over to him and sit on his lap.

He placed his hands onto your ass and brought your body down onto his pelvis.

“Did you miss me?”

“No..”

He bucks into your clothes opening, brushing his hard member against it. “Are you sure?”

You bite your bottom lip, then reach to your back and pull out your stake.

You had made it with materials from the burnt down castle. You even engraved your initials into it, knowing that you’d use it to kill him.

“Yes..”

He smirks and licks his lips. “Are you ready?”

“Why aren't you scared?” Your brows furrow.

He chuckles. “I’ve been anticipating this moment for quite some time actually.”

You shake your head. “That’s not fair, this is too easy.”

He flips you over onto your back and suddenly you’re in his room and lying on his bed with him in between your legs. “And would you rather I make it difficult for you? Are you sure you want to wait another 20 years?”

You whimper as he commands your needy body effortlessly.

He grinds down into you. “If you won’t be mine willingly, then I would rather die..so are you ready, my love?”

You pause for a moment.

“Absolutely.” You press the stake into his chest, watching as his final breath leaves his beautiful lips.

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alby-rei · 4 years ago

Text

[Arthur Week, Day 3] Midnight Snacks

a/n: in which MC (ft. accomplice Dazai) wants to make the resident flirt, Arthur Conan Doyle, jealous. Why? Who knows! But what I do know is that it ends up working in his favor rather than MC’s... wait, what?

a/n 2: changed the title cuz it was bothering me xD nothing else changed.

My entry for @scummy-writes‘s Arthur Week!

Day 3: Coffee and Fudge || Writer’s Block

[Pairing]: Arthur x You/gn!MC, (pre-relationship)

[Characters]: You, Arthur, Dazai, Sebastian

[Word count]: ~2300 words

[Rating]: T

[POV]: 2nd Person

“...and all of a sudden, I hear Mozart yell ‘stop releasing chickens in my music room!’ but Dazai didn’t even flinch!” You brought a foam-covered hand up to your mouth to cover your laughter.

You and Sebastian were cleaning the dishes together after lunch time. You’ve made it a habit to catch up on your day and share observations with Sebas, as pretty much no one steps into the kitchen around this time.

Well, that is except—

“_____~!”

Except Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, naturally. He must’ve finished his writing session and been wandering around the mansion, as is his trademark since your arrival.

You closed your eyes, hoping the man would walk past the kitchen without checking. You weren’t exactly in the mood for flirty games with the mystery writer, especially not after dealing with a haughty music teacher in Mozart. Sadly, luck was not on your side, today.

“I’ll tell you the rest later,” you wipe your hands with a towel. Picking up the tray of plates and cups to put them in their rightful places, you didn’t pay the writer any mind.

“After this I gotta find Dazai,” you said as you opened a cupboard. Your turned around to find Arthur leaning on the door frame, and your tone shifted dramatically, “Oh! Arthur, funny to see you here.”

Sebastian knew that tone very well. It was your sickeningly sweet voice that you dedicated to either (a) dodging conversation, or (b) planning something against that person.

“I’d say the same to you, ___, but you’re always in the kitchen. I couldn’t help dropping in to check on my favorite bird,” Arthur leaned against the door frame, flashing you a grin and a wink.

“Oh please, don’t talk about birds after what happened this morning,” You caught sight of your target at the end of the hallway, “aaaand I have to go, see ya!”

You duck under Arthur’s arm while his guard was down. He twirled around to follow you, but you evaded him, calling out to Dazai. Arthur stood in his tracks, as he watched the japanese author stop for you, and you beamed up at him.

“Dazai-san, I’ve been wanting to ask you for something, if you’re… free,” you noticed mid-sentence that the chicken that was still nestled in his arms.

“Hm?” His piercing yellow eyes brightened, “I’ll always have time for you, Toshiko-san.”

“Bawk!” The chicken… agreed, supposedly.

You laughed sheepishly, “That’s very sweet of you, I was actually interested in learning about your writing style and get some advice. I’ve been going through some terrible writer’s block.”

“I was working on a short story earlier, it’s in my room. Want to come with me?” He began to lead her towards his room.

“I’m honored! I’d love to, Dazai-san.”

Oh yes, you were definitely planning something, Sebastian noted.

As the two of them walked away, Arthur stood glued watching the scene. Sebastian had been poking his arm the whole time, but he didn’t budge. Even shaking his entire arm didn’t spur any sudden movement from him.

“Sir Arthur. Earth to Sir Arthur,” Sebas continued tapping his shoulder and pinching his arm.

“Huh? Oh…” His gaze held an odd expression, one that Sebastian hadn’t seen from him before—a hint of sadness, maybe even frustration. But it was quickly replaced by his signature grin as he finally took notice of me, “Sorry, Sebas, I must’ve been blocking your path, got to go!”

And just like that, he scurried off.

After a moment’s pause, and after making sure the hallway was clear of esteemed residents, Sebastian did much the same, but in the opposite direction. He has notes to take, pronto.

~*~

You and Dazai sat in the lounge room, having passed by his room, and Dazai collected his writing material.

“You have really pretty hands, Toshiko-san. I’ve heard you playing in Mo-kun’s piano room, you’re a wonderful pianist,” Dazai held your hand delicately in his, as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you, it’s something I take a lot of pride in,” your heart swelled from the warmth of his compliment, “but I’ve been much more interested with writing as of late. Actually, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

“Oh? I admire your ambition. How can I help?”

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A third voice chimed in.

Right on time, as you expected.

“Have I interrupted your little rendezvous?” Arthur walked slowly and purposefully, as if he had caught them red-handed doing something they shouldn’t.

Internally, he was trying his best not to jump to conclusions. That would be uncharacteristic of him, after all. You weren’t tied to him in anyway, so there was no reason to feel so jealous that you went to Dazai for writing help instead of him. He didn’t even know about it!

So why was his heart pounding so loudly in his head while his eyes were fixated on their linked hands?

Dazai withdrew his hand, occupying it with his writing pen instead. He shot Arthur a smile with closed eyes.

“Of course not, we were just talking, Arty.”

“…Don’t call me that,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “and second, I’d like to steal ____ now.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but I want to talk with Dazai a bit to improve my writing.”

Being shot down so directly caught Arthur off-guard; his insecurities getting a hold of him. For the first time, he found himself at a loss for ways to turn the conversation in his favor. At the moment, if he persisted, and you kept turning him down, he wouldn’t be able to let it down for the rest of the day.

Instead, Arthur straightened himself, fixing his tie, “Well then, I’m heading to the pub soon enough to find me a pretty skirt for the evening. Have fun, you two, I know I will.”

He huffed childishly, going out with a wave. Dazai turned to you with a polite smile.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Oh, he is definitely salty, thanks for agreeing to this, Dazai-san.”

“Any time, Yoshie-san, what are housemates for?” He smiled fondly at you.

“You’re a great actor, didn’t even flinch!”

“Ah, but who said I was acting?”

He got up with his writing tools and stepped out of the lounge before you registered what he said.

“Wait… what?!”

~*~

Later that evening…

…Well, more like around midnight, you just happened to catch the insomnia bug and were heading to the kitchen, as all people naturally do when they’re insomniac. You switched on the lights, thankful for the dimness of the lanterns in the kitchen. Scanning your options, your eyes settled on the coffee pot that sat quietly in the corner. Thoughts of a certain mystery writer gnawed at you, but you darted them away and walked past the coffee pot to get a glass of water instead. You leaned forward, filling her glass with bleary eyes that refused to slumber but also refused to open properly.

Suddenly, you felt a touch to your backside. Eyes cracking wide open, you spun around and swung your makeshift weapon of glass at your offender. The offending mop of ash blue hair felt the full force of the blow, and the glass shattered across the floor.

Well crap.

“Ow… If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you were trying to kill me there, ____.”

For the love—.

“Arthur what the hell were you trying to pull?! Bloody hell! You made my heart drop.”

In a flash, his body was pressed against yours, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. The crunch of the glass under his shoes was the only sound in the room. You saw a small stream of blood start to fall by his ear.

“I was going to prepare myself a midnight snack with my coffee, but it seems I already found one ready for a taste test,” he licked the back of his fangs.

“At this hour??” It was well past midnight by now, and caffeine was the last thing you’d recommend anyone at this time.

You felt his breath on your ear before he inhaled your scent. It was comforting to him as much as it was intoxicating to his senses.

He sighed, “____… I can’t get you out of my mind, no matter what I do.”

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you away from the countertop and flush against him, instead. All sorts of alarms were going off in your mind despite the drowsiness, with your instincts telling you to push him off.

“But then, you started avoiding me. And then… Sebastian and Mozart and even Dazai took you away from me,” he sniffled.

You pushed him off gently but still within his arms, as you stared at his face. There was a pink dust across his cheeks and a redness in the corners of his eyes.

“Arthur, are you… drunk?”

His frown flipped into a grin as he nuzzled his nose into your disheveled hair.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I may have been out drinking, but I can bloody well hold my liquor. Theo can vouch for me on that.”

(a/n: no, he can’t lmao)

The sight of him in a somewhat vulnerable state, as well as the smell of his cologne, made it hard for you to properly fight him. Plus, you felt bad for crushing a glass cup on his head. Speaking of which…

“Is your head okay?”

“Hm…” He brought a gloved hand to his forehead, feeling a dull pounding in its wake, “I must say, you got me good, even the most daring fools never landed a hit on me yet.”

Just how thick is his skull to endure that?! You were both dazzled and frightened by their realization.

With one of his arms off of you, you took this chance to escape, but you slid on a shard of glass and would have fallen face first onto the floor had Arthur not pulled you against him and taken the impact of the floor to his own shoulder. He laid on his back, clutching you protectively against his chest. He groaned with pain, but he pushed it aside to check on you first.

“Clumsy tonight, are we, or are you seriously trying to kill me?” He chuckled wryly.

Before you could even blink, you felt your vision do a 180-flip, and you were suddenly beneath him, away from the glass shards that littered the floor. The scent of his cologne flooded your senses again, as he smirked down on you with a drunken lopsided grin.

“I was absolutely livid when I saw Dazai hold your hand. Was that part of your plan, darling? Well, I’ve taken the bait.”

You flinched, your body wide awake to every touch and caress of this man. You bit your lip to avoid playing into his hands. You were still in control of the situation, you thought. His lips descended to your jaw, barely brushing your skin, like he’s testing your limits. Instinctively, you sighed, unaware of the breath you’d been holding.

Ok, maybe you weren’t entirely in control, either.

“Arthur…” You commanded, trying to regain some semblance of control back.

This was not part of your plan, however, and you were quickly losing grip of all reason and logic. You needed to get him off and away from you before you acquiesced to his ministrations.

“But don’t worry, ____. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

He drew back from you, staring down at you with an uncharacteristic tender look. He continued.

“The effect you have on me is not one I’ve felt with any woman I’ve ever encountered before. It’s confusing—maddening, even— and I can’t escape it… because I don’t want to,” he sighed in surrender, “I want you, ___.”

It was a look of pure love and affection that shone in his eyes. His half-opened shirt invited your gaze to roam his body, and his thick-rimmed glasses framed his features in such an alluring glow that outshone the dimness of the kitchen. His hair looked softer than usual, too. Your hand twitched at the thought of running your fingers through those ash blue locks. Your mind was thrown into a whirlwind with the influx of new information, one that dented your rationality. Your desire to get closer to him wrestled against your impartial stoicism, threatening to crack the armor around the stone gates to your heart.

“Hey Arthur,” you started, twirling a lock of his hair with your hand. It was ever-so-slightly damp; he must’ve bathed in le thermae earlier.

“Yes, ____?”

Damn that seductive voice of his, you shooed away that thought as soon as it entered. You chose to focus on something much more pressing at the moment.

“We need to get you bandaged up. You’re bleeding terribly from your head.”

~*~

It took a lot of convincing, but Arthur finally acquiesced to your persistent request.

“There, all done,” you stepped back from Arthur, who was sitting hunched over on his bed.

You were both settled in his room with his medical bag open on the desk and his equipment strewn all around. You didn’t exactly know what to do to treat Arthur’s wound, but you insisted on doing it for him… with copious amounts of instructions from him.

“I brought you some fresh coffee and fudge, as an apology.”

“At this hour?” He mimicked your tone from earlier. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“And here I am trying to make it up to you, and this is how you show gratitude?”

You huffed indignantly, ready to head out and leave the unappreciative writer to his own devices.

“Hold on, now,” he gripped your wrist before you could fully turn away, “you’re the one who smashed glass on my head, so you owe me a favor.”

“…a favor on top of tending to your wounds and bringing you coffee?”

“Oh, indulge me, won’t you? You did those of your own volition.”

You sigh, “Depends on the request, then.”

“Feed me,” he perked up with no hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.

You wanted to turn him down, to tease him about his child-like excitement, but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes. Those eyes held a very powerful hold over you though you blame it on your own tiredness outweighing your better judgment.

“Alright…” You moved aside his things to sit next to him, leaning towards the table to drag the tray closer to yourself.

“Open wide, you incorrigible baby.”

#where does that put their relationship?#no idea!#what I do know is that Arthur is a happy baby #congratulations MC you played yourself #MC's plan backfires #accomplice dazai did his job #note: MC promised to help him build his chicken army in return #ikevamp arthur x mc #ikemen vampire arthur #arthur week #arthur week day 3 #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp mc #alby one-shots #ikevamp fanfic

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hrina · 5 years ago

Text

1923, Pt. I - The Day

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: PG (for now) WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: nope

hi everyone! here is PART 1 of my historical AU featuring harry as a groundskeeper/farmhand (i know that those two professions are slightly different but just let me have this ok snfjsjfnsdsf)

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

this series will be composed of three parts altogether, so i hope u all enjoy this first one! as always, please reblog the fics that you like! and don’t hesitate to send in feedback, i promise that we, as writers, always love to witness your reactions :) anywayyyy now that we’ve covered all the bases, go stupid with 1920s harry! can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💌��💌

~*~

July 5th, 1923

“What if he comes back with a beard that goes all the way down to his knees?”

You snort and shake your head. “He’s only been gone for a few months, Dee. I don’t think it’s possible for one’s whiskers to grow that quickly.”

Lydia shrugs, toying with the hem of her pale blue dress. “What if he met an evil witch in New York who cast a spell on him? And now he’s doomed to live out the rest of his life with horrifying facial hair!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. I don’t think that there are any witches in New York, you want to say, but you keep your mouth shut. Believing in magic is an integral part of childhood—you don’t want to be the one who takes that away from her. Soon enough, she’ll figure it out for herself.

You wind an elastic around your fingers, securing the end of her braid so that it doesn’t unravel. “That’s one,” you say, sighing quietly. “Turn to the side so that I can start on the other.”

She obeys, angling her head to the left. You gather her dark curls in a loose fist, skimming your nails against her scalp to collect every last strand.

Her hair has grown hot, absorbing the heat of the sun. It’s a beautiful day—there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. The two of you are sitting on the front steps of your home, looking out over the paved circular driveway and waiting excitedly for Andrew’s car to pull up to the iron gate. Realistically, you know that he won’t be here for at least another few hours, but Lydia insisted that you unwind outside to pass the time.

Somehow, she persuaded you to fashion her hair into twin braids. And though you had groaned at the initial request, here you are.

“He’s bringing a friend, you know,” your sister suddenly pipes up. “He told me in his letter.”

“Oh, really,” you say wryly. “And who exactly is this friend of his?”

“Martin Russell,” Lydia says, as though she’s reciting lines for a play. “He graduated from Harvard and then built his own company with nothing but a nickel to his name. Drew says that they’re trying to merge and become an empire.”

“An empire,” you echo, humouring her. “That sounds awfully intimidating, don’t you think?”

“Not to me,” she boasts, lacing her fingers together in her lap and squaring her shoulders. “Drew told me that I’m a businesswoman in the making.”

“That, you are,” you agree. You tie your remaining elastic around her second braid, fastening it in place. “All done.”

Lydia jumps to her feet, tugging down the material of her dress and turning to face you. She strikes a pose, placing one hand on her waist and lifting the other above her head. “How do I look?”

“Stunning,” you say, smiling up at her softly. “You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

At that, she frowns.

“I’m not little!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m thirteen and a half!”

“That’s little,” you say, laughing quietly. “Trust me. Once you get to my age, you’ll understand.”

“I’d rather be little than ancient,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. You scoff, bringing your fingers up to your forehead so that you can shield your eyes from the sun.

“Twenty-three is not ancient!” you say, baffled.

Lydia just giggles, twirling around a few times and watching the skirt of her dress fan out handsomely. Once she looks up, however, she freezes in her tracks. Your eyebrows knit together as she extends her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hi, Harry!”

You stiffen, reflexively following her gaze.

Harry is about thirty feet from the steps, crossing the driveway with a heavy bag of soil slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he’s carrying a bucket filled with rusted gardening tools. You had been so caught up in your conversation with your sister that you failed to notice him. He’s making his way toward the pretty garden that separates the entry and exit of the driveway, tucked between the two strips of road and outlined with smooth grey stones.

You swallow forcefully when he pauses at the sound of Lydia’s voice. He turns, and you get a full view of his broad chest, tanned skin peeking out from underneath his white shirt. Brown trousers cover his legs, held up by matching suspenders. His black boots are speckled with dried mud—you guess that he’s just come from the stables in the back.

Upon catching sight of your sister, he smiles and begins to walk over. You shift quickly, trying to focus on something—anything—else.

“Good afternoon, little bug.” Harry’s tone is deep, slow, rough. It sends a shiver down your spine. “You alright?”

“Very much so,” Lydia replies, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Harry, how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” he replies.

Your sister glances over at you, her brows arched high on her forehead. “He’s practically primeval.”

“Dee!” Her name leaves your lips as an admonishment, but you can’t stifle your laugh.

She just giggles and turns back to Harry; he’s smirking slightly, watching your interaction unfold. “Are you going to be planting more roses?” Lydia asks, changing the subject.

“Yes.” He nods. He sets the bucket down and uses his free hand to realign the bag of soil on his shoulder. “Would you like to help?”

Lydia spins around to face you, her eyes wide and pleading. “Can I? Pretty please?”

“You’re supposed to take Artemis out for a ride,” you tell her, pursing your lips. “You know how antsy she gets when she’s cooped up all day.”

“Can’t you take her out?” Lydia asks, clasping her fingers together and bringing them up to her chest.

“Dee,” you start, shaking your head, “you know I don’t—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Harry,” she says suddenly, glancing down at him from over her shoulder. “Have you been in the stables today? Did you see Artemis?”

Harry hums dutifully. His eyes fall to you—you look away.

“And did she seem anxious at all?” Lydia presses expectantly, placing her hands on her hips.

He hesitates. “Well…no. But if you need to take her out, please do. I’m perfectly capable of planting by myself.”

“Nonsense,” she says, waving away his words. She turns back to you, jutting her bottom lip out into an imploring pout. “Can’t you ask someone else to do it? What about Penelope? Or Beth?”

“Beth’s preparing lunch,” you say, scoffing quietly. “Besides, she refuses to work in a messy environment. What makes you think that she’ll willingly go down to the stables, of all places?”

Lydia frowns, blowing out an annoyed sigh.

“Fine,” she acquiesces at last, rolling her eyes. She spins around, hopping down the remaining steps and fixing Harry with an accusatory glare. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes! Don’t you dare start without me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little bug,” he replies, his lips twitching. You watch as Lydia takes off, her braids whipping in the wind as she sprints toward the side of the house. Once she disappears around the corner and out of your sight, you press your palms to your face, sighing loudly.

“She’s too much,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Harry chuckles quietly from the bottom of the stairs; you freeze suddenly, remembering that he’s still there.

“I should—” You clear your throat, climbing to your feet. The light material of your dress tickles the skin just below your knees. “I should probably go. There’s still so much to do before Drew returns.”

You’re lying, of course. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure there is.” Harry nods, running his fingers through his hair. The dark strands curl beautifully behind his ears. You allow yourself to study them for only a moment before diverting your gaze up to the sky.

“It’s hot—are you thirsty?” you ask, squinted eyes trained on miles of cerulean blue. “I can get Beth to bring you some water, if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely,” he says. “Thank you.”

You simply hum in response. Your hands are abnormally clammy when you wipe them across the thin petticoat covering your thighs.

“Right,” you say, chancing a glance back down at him. “Well…have a nice day.”

“You too, miss.”

You pause, fiddling with the satin bow tied at the small of your back. “You—you don’t have to call me that, Harry,” you remind him, shaking your head. “How many times must I tell you?”

“My apologies,” he says, shrugging. “Force of habit.”

“It’s alright,” you say, intent on avoiding his gaze. “It just—it makes me feel as though I’m your—your—”

You break off, uncertain of how to proceed. Thankfully, though, Harry seems to understand. He chuckles softly, bowing his chin in agreement. “I know.”

Embarrassment festers in your chest, creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. You straighten, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat and retreating toward the door. “Lydia will be back soon, I’m sure. Good day.”

When Harry lifts his head again, his green eyes teem with an emotion that is somehow unrecognizable yet familiar all at once. The gruff timbre of his response makes your stomach churn nervously, flipping your breakfast of fresh fruits and toast. You hate it more than anything else in the world.

You don’t hate him, though.

No…you could never hate him.

“Good day, miss. Ah, I mean—” His face collapses into a grimace. He grunts at the thoughtless error, shaking his head. “—good day.”

~*~

It’s just past three in the afternoon when a car horn honks from outside. Lydia’s shrill squeal of excitement follows soon thereafter.

“Drew!” she cries. She rushes into the front foyer, white shoes squeaking against the polished floor. The bottom of her dress is dotted with faded spots of mud, a testament to her time spent in the garden earlier today.

“Dee,” you scold her, frowning. “I told you to change once you had finished planting.”

“Sorry!” she says, though her tone suggests that she isn’t sorry at all—not in the slightest. “Got distracted!”

She grabs your hand, and you yelp when she gives a mighty tug, towing you outside. You dust off the skirt of your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears and staring at the iron gate in the distance—it’s closing back up, metal spines glinting alluringly in the sunlight. On one side of the driveway, a bright red car rolls along the pavement, tires bumping merrily against the ground. Two silhouettes sit in the front; the man behind the wheel honks the horn again and extends his arm through the window, sweeping it upward in a triumphant greeting.

“Drew!” Lydia repeats. She charges down the front steps, her hands outstretched.

“Be careful!” you call after her, gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip.

The sun is still high in the sky. You crane your neck, surveying your surroundings. Heat rises from the driveway in murky waves, blurring the scenery. The large portico that spans nearly the entire width of your home is lined with bushels of potted plants—roses and peonies and daffodils. The lawn is bright and healthy, spearmint-green grass trimmed to perfection.

Something shifts in the periphery of your vision. Your head snaps to the left.

Harry is there, leaning against the corner of the house. He’s still sporting the same outfit as before, except it’s even more sullied, now. You’re not surprised. Gardening is grubby work, but gardening with Lydia…it’s a miracle that he’s not caked in mud, soiled from head to toe.

On cue, Harry reaches for a dirty rag dangling over his shoulder. He grasps the material with strong fingers, lifting it to his face and wiping down his forehead and his cheeks. You watch him closely, fascinated by the thin sheen of sweat sparkling on his skin.

As though sensing your stare, his eyes dart over, locking squarely with yours.

A soft gasp falls from your lips. You clench your jaw, incontrovertibly caught, and quickly look away.

As soon as Andrew steps out of the car, Lydia launches herself into his arms. He laughs gleefully, catching her with ease and spinning her around. He’s dressed in a cream-coloured suit, the collar of his periwinkle button-up peeking out beneath the lapels. His loafers are shiny and brown; a matching hat is perched atop his head, hiding his dark hair from view. The cap makes his ears stick out even more than usual—upon realising this, you smile.

“Look at how much you’ve grown!” Andrew grunts, setting Lydia back down on the ground. He puts his hand next to her shoulder, as though measuring her against an invisible wall. “The last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn you were only this tall.”

She beams before standing on her tiptoes and poking at his chest. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be gone for so long next time!”

“Touché,” he chuckles, nodding in assent. His fingers find the ends of her braids, fiddling with them absentmindedly. “And who’s responsible for these pretty things, hm?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question,” you interject, making your way down the steps.

Andrew looks up at you and grins widely. You hold out your arms as you approach, and he accepts your invitation with a happy call of your name. He’s tall—a few inches over six feet, if you had to guess. You hug him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder and flattening your palms against his back.

“You look very handsome,” you tell him when you break apart. “I like this colour on you.”

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you? I was on the fence about it, truthfully.”

“You shouldn’t have been—it looks good,” you assure him, smoothing your knuckles over his collar. “What took you so long? You’re late.”

“Stopped off at the cemetery to visit mum and dad,” he explains. “Changed their flowers, too—calla lilies, this time.”

You nod grimly, pursing your lips. “Mum’s favourite. Excellent choice.”

One of the car’s doors slams shut; the noise pulls your attention away from your brother. You peer past him, eyes landing on the man who has just exited the passenger side of the vehicle. His skin is a fair shade of olive, complimented beautifully by the beige jacket slung over his shoulders. Checkered brown pants cover his legs, and he’s clutching a sturdy briefcase in one hand. Andrew retreats, keeping a palm on the small of your back as he leads you over to his companion.

“Girls,” he says, tipping his cap, “this is my business partner, Martin Russell. Martin, these are my sisters.”

Martin bows his head. “Lovely to meet you both.”

“Are you tired, Mister Russell?” you ask. “It’s been a long journey, I’m sure.”

“I’m quite alright, miss, thank you,” he replies.

You don’t miss the way his amber eyes trail along your figure as he straightens up. You step back before you even have the chance to register what you’re doing.

“Hello!” Lydia—much to your relief—butts in, grabbing Martin’s hand and shaking it frantically. “I’m Lydia. Say, how would you describe your time at Harvard? Did you enjoy it? Was it a lot of work?”

Martin chuckles nervously, taken aback by your sister’s blathering. “Er,” he starts, “I—”

“Dee,” Andrew says, snickering quietly. “At least let the man get settled in before you begin interrogating him.”

“Sorry,” Lydia mumbles, shrinking away.

“That’s alright,” Andrew says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to chat with him over dinner tonight, won’t you? Is it true that Beth is preparing my favourite?”

Your sister beams and nods. “I asked her to!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Andrew smiles. He looks up at the house, his forlorn gaze running over the plethora of pale bricks and clear windows. Abruptly, he pauses, squinting and lifting his fingers to shield his face from the sun. “Is that…?”

Your blood runs cold.

Andrew raises an arm high above his head. “Harry!”

And suddenly, staring down at the ground becomes your most pressing concern of the day. Harry makes his way over, a mountain of handsome grime. It’s unfair, really, you think. How does he manage to look so fetching, even beneath a thin layer of soot?

“How have you been?” Andrew asks, surging forward and shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Harry replies, grinning. “I’ve been alright. Keeping the garden tame, keeping the stables clean.” He tosses a pointed look in Lydia’s direction. “Keeping this little bug out of trouble.”

“Hey!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry just chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Andrew says, nodding in satisfaction. “It’s nice knowing that there’s still a man around the house to take care of these two.”

You bristle at his words, scowling in mock-offense. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“I know.” Your brother shoots you a mischievous wink, and only then do you realise that he’s merely trying to get a rise out of you. You roll your eyes, though you can’t quell the fond smile that creeps onto your face.

“Let’s go in,” you suggest. “You can say hello to the rest of the staff, and then we can all wash up before dinner.”

Andrew hums in agreement. He tilts his head to the side, attention fixed almost exclusively on Harry. “You should come, H,” he says swiftly. “It’s been too long; we need to catch up.”

“Drew—” Your shoulders tense, and your nostrils flare. “I don’t think—”

“I’d love to,” Harry interrupts. He hooks his thumbs beneath the straps of his suspenders. “Thank you for the invite, Drew.”

“Of course.” Your brother nods before turning back to Lydia and Martin. “Shall we, then?”

The three of them push between you and Harry, climbing up the steps and disappearing through the front door. Inside, your sister unleashes a stream of fleeting questions: What’s it like in New York? Are the people nice? How was the food? Did you see the Statue of Liberty?

Gradually, her inquiries fade away. You stand there, chest inflated with a held breath and fingers fidgeting anxiously with the skirt of your dress. The sun beats down against the crown of your head, triggering a mild fit of dizziness.

Or maybe that’s just Harry.

“So…,” he begins, blowing out an awkward sigh. “What shall we be eating tonight?”

You scoff, unable to help yourself. “You accepted the offer without knowing exactly what it was?”

“Should I know?”

You swallow heavily, pinning your gaze on the scarlet vehicle still parked only a few feet away. “Minestrone,” you say. The word is clipped. “Drew loves it.”

“I’ve had it,” he tells you. “Beth always saves me a bit if there’s some left over.”

You nod wordlessly.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, digging his hands into his pockets. You’re so taken aback by his question that your head snaps toward him, brows cinched together in confusion.

“What?” The question falls from your lips before you can blink. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You won’t even look at me,” he hums, shrugging casually.

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“Not before, you weren’t.”

“I—” you break off, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut. You pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers, trying to keep yourself composed. “I have to go.”

“As do I.”

“Right.” You avoid his gaze. “Goodbye, then.” You whip around, hurrying up the steps.

“Goodbye,” Harry replies from behind you. The smile in his voice is painfully conspicuous. “See you at dinner.”

~*~

You’ve just pinned a final clip into your hair when Lydia comes barrelling through your bedroom door with no warning whatsoever. You’ve long since given up on reprimanding her for it. She always forgets to knock.

“Can you button me up?” she requests, spinning around and exposing her bare back.

“Did you run down the hall like that?” you ask, laughing at her eccentricity.

“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry—I made sure that the coast was clear.”

“Brilliant. Your reconnaissance skills are truly a sight to behold.”

She scoffs, smiling at you from over her shoulder. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Patience, Dee,” you say. You turn back to your own reflection, twirling your finger through a loose strand of hair and letting it fall picturesquely against your temple. “There.”

Her feet scuffle absentmindedly against the floor as you approach her. She’s wearing a pastel pink dress with short, puffy sleeves that cinch at her skinny biceps. The bottom hem of her petticoat tickles her knees, which strain against transparent white tights. You remember wearing something nearly identical when you were her age. The outfit isn’t a hand-me-down, though. The stitching is brand-new, and the fabric is crisp and fresh, like it’s never once seen the inside of a washtub.

“It’s nice having Drew back home, wouldn’t you agree?” you ask your sister. She squeals when the nail of your index finger ghosts playfully up her spine.

“It is,” she concurs as you begin to fasten the clasps at the small of her back. “I’ve missed him terribly.”

“So have I,” you hum, pressing your mouth into a thin line. “There are some things that I could do without, though. Like that comment he made about us not being able to take care of ourselves.”

“He was only teasing,” Lydia says. “You know that. Besides—” She shrugs, puckering her lips idly. “—he was right. Harry does take care of us, even though we may not always need it.”

At that, you pause.

“‘Harry takes care of us’?” you parrot, your brows knitting together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she starts, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Who trims the lawn and tends to the flowers early in the morning? And who cleans out the stables when they get messy?”

“We pay him to do those things, Dee,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It’s his job.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees. “But he does so much more, don’t you think?”

You say nothing. She takes your silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“For example,” she says—declares, “he never gets irritated with me whenever I prattle on about my day.”

“Oh.” You smirk. “So you are aware of your tendency to talk too much.”

“Not funny,” she deadpans. You giggle.

“He always lets me follow him around whenever I get bored,” she adds, her eyes glazing over. “And he likes to make sure that you’re alright, too.”

Your fingers fumble with the last button at the top of her dress. You pray that she doesn’t detect the sudden blunder. “How so?” you probe, trying to keep your voice level.

“You know,” she indicates, even though you most certainly do not. “Like today, as we were planting the roses. He asked me how you were doing—if you were eating well, if you were getting enough sleep. Those are fairly standard inquiries regarding one’s wellbeing, I’d say. Do you disagree?”

“No,” you murmur, gnawing on your painted bottom lip. “I don’t.”

You finish your task, fastening the final clasp on her dress and smoothing your fingers down her sides. “There you go,” you say softly, your throat dry. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she singsongs, twirling around to face you. She studies you closely, soaking in the black floor-length gown cascading down your figure. “You look beautiful,” she says, her tone sincere. “Martin’s going to be utterly speechless when he sees you!”

A weak chuckle falls from your mouth. “Shall we go down?” you suggest, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the door.

“Yes, please,” she replies. She places a palm over her stomach, features crumpling into a theatrical scowl. “I’m famished.”

You smile.

And as you exit your bedroom with your sister in tow, you realise that she may have been wrong about which man you’re hoping to impress.

~*~

Dinner is full of surprises, many of which present themselves in the form of Martin Russell. It’s astonishing, you think, because the man who had barely spoken ten words upon first meeting you is now commanding the table at which you’re sat. Andrew is perched at the head, with Martin just off to his right. Lydia is next to him, and you’re directly across from him. And that means that Harry…

Harry is right next to you.

You do everything in your power to avoid looking in his direction. Thankfully, it proves to be easier than expected, considering the fact that Martin has been droning on about his company for the past fifteen minutes. You don’t believe that anyone else has managed to squeeze in a single word.

There’s wine, candles, and the finest china your family owns. But all of that pales in comparison to the man sitting beside you.

Harry cleans up exquisitely. Upon first entering the dining room, you were shocked to find him in a black tuxedo with a white bowtie resting just below his throat. It appears that he even combed and gelled his hair, though some strands have fallen free from the style and now hang down over his forehead. You don’t mind it, though—if anything, it’s a hint of the man you know peeking through. And the man you know is handsome—alarmingly so.

Drew had whistled as you descended the stairs. He then offered you his arm, patting your hand and telling you that you looked wonderful. Martin hadn’t been able to control his reaction, his eyes raking up and down your figure like you were a lavish meal on a silver platter. It had taken everything in you to hide your distaste.

But Harry…

Harry hadn’t said a word. He’d fixed his face perfectly, showing no sign of emotion whatsoever. You’d been hoping for something—anything—indicative of his opinion toward your outfit, but you observed no such consequence. He’d only acknowledged you with a curt nod before settling into his chair and pointedly looking away.

And now, here you are—a bowl of minestrone in front of you, a wineglass inches away from your lips, and an irritated groan simmering on the back of your tongue. Martin’s voice is growing more and more irksome by the minute.

“And then, it was as though they couldn’t get enough—”

“I had assured them that I would bring in at least twice the revenue—”

“It was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it—”

You polish off the rest of your wine, reaching across the table for the half-empty bottle. No one notices as you pour a bit more of the alcohol into your glass, sneakily surpassing what would be considered appropriate for a lady to consume. You set the bottle back down with a silent huff, lifting the goblet to your lips and letting your attention wander.

You freeze when you catch Harry staring at you out of the corner of his eye. The edges of his mouth are curled up ever-so-slightly, nearly imperceptible. Heat rushes to your cheeks; you gulp down a large sip of wine, averting your gaze.

You deposit your drink onto the pristine white tablecloth, glaring intently at your food. You can feel Harry’s playful stare burning a hole into the side of your head; you suspect that he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

Your soup has cooled substantially. You shovel a spoonful past your lips, swallowing it with a considerable amount of difficulty. Everyone else has nearly finished their dinner, save for Martin. You want to thrust his face into his bowl—maybe then, he’ll finally shut up.

You lift your wine back up to your mouth. The action draws Martin’s focus. His eyes flit down to your minestrone, and then jump to the other empty dishes around the table. At last, he seems to realise the disparity between your meals, because a small, sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“Lord,” he chuckles, settling into the cushion of his chair. “You all must’ve been ravenous. I’ve hardly touched my food.”

“It’s hard to eat whilst boasting, I’d imagine,” you mutter into your glass.

A loud, hacking cough breaks you out of your little bubble. Your head snaps to the left. Harry is choking on his own wine, chiseled cheeks growing red with exertion. He curls his fingers into a firm fist, pounding a few times on his chest to dislodge the liquid stuck in his windpipe. Reflexively, you place a hand on his arm, your forehead wrinkling in concern.

“You alright, H?” Andrew asks, leaning forward over his plate.

“Fine!” Harry croaks. He makes an indiscernible gesture with his hand, waving your brother’s worries away. “I’m fine, thanks. Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.”

He coughs again, burying the sound into the crook of his elbow.

You watch him with troubled eyes. When your gazes lock, only then do you realise that your palm is still splayed out over his bicep. You pull away quickly, recoiling as though you’ve just passed your knuckles through an open flame. Harry’s body rumbles as he clears his throat. He hooks two fingers into the collar of his button-up, loosening it from where it’s secured tightly around his neck.

Lydia is talking, now, but her declarations fade into the background. You wish that you could concentrate on them—you really do—but you have more far more pressing matters at hand.

Like Harry shooting you a swift, secretive smile, and every piece of the puzzle clicking perfectly into place.

His unassuming sip…your quiet quip…

He’d heard you.

You sit back in your seat, your ears ringing. Harry places one of his hands on the wooden arm of his chair; his knuckles flex painstakingly. Across the table, Andrew and Lydia have resumed their lively conversation. Martin scarfs down the rest of his soup, trying to catch up. The candlesticks perched between your plates melt slowly, a mess of waxy dribbles and drops.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you become aware that—for the first time tonight—no one is paying you any attention. The realisation makes you feel giddy, drunk on power and anonymity.

Or maybe that’s just the wine.

You peer down at Harry’s nails, studying them absentmindedly—they’ve been scrubbed clean.

And before you can even begin to register what on earth you’re doing, you reach out, tracing the veins on the back of his hand with one finger. Harry tenses; his concentration immediately falls to where you’re touching him. When you finally muster enough confidence to meet his gaze, you find him watching you with wide, awestruck eyes.

A small part of you is smug—that’s the reaction you’d been searching for at the beginning of the evening. That’s how you’d wanted him to look at you when you made your entrance, wrapped up in a pretty black gown and layers of opaque red lipstick.

You cease your movements and retract your arm, tucking it back against your side as you turn your interest elsewhere. In the periphery of your vision, Harry has pinned you with an unwavering, stunned expression, his body rooted in place. Despite the rapid thumping of your heart, you keep your gaze trained ahead and your chin held high, pride swelling in your abdomen like a hot-air balloon.

Lydia laughs at something that Andrew says. Martin tugs haughtily at the lapels of his suit. You release a heavy exhale and nudge your bowl a few inches away from your chest, completely sated.

~*~

Once everyone retires to their rooms for the evening, you wait approximately an hour before slipping out. You’re light on your feet, sneaking past Lydia’s quarters and the guestroom that was given to Martin for the duration of his stay. He snores—quite loudly, too. You can hear him as though he’s right next to you, even from where you’re hovering out in the hall.

You make your way down the spiral staircase, heading toward the large double doors leading to the backyard. You quickly tug on a delicate pair of slippers before sneaking out into darkness’ cool embrace. Midnight is only a few minutes away.

You pull your wool cardigan a bit tighter around your torso. The hem of your silk nightgown is shorter than that of a standard dress. The wind nips teasingly at your knees, making you shiver. Blades of grass tickle your ankles as you march toward the stables. There’s a single light hanging above the entrance, bathing the wooden panes in a faint yellow glow. Green grass gives way to dry soil and the odd piece of straw littered across the dirt.

Inside the stables, only two of the six pens are occupied. The first one houses Apollo, Andrew’s stallion. His skin is like chestnuts, his mane the colour of the sun. You’re sure that your brother will take him out early tomorrow morning—you doubt that he was able to find many docile steeds in the bustling streets of New York.

You bypass Apollo completely, stopping in front of your horse—Artemis.

She’s a sight to behold, white skin and jet-black hair. She reminds you of the first snowfall of the season: crisp and pure, untainted by footprints and pollution and everything else in between. She’s been your partner in crime for the past decade, even though you’ve spent the last few years simply guiding her along with your feet on the ground and a hand tangled in her reins.

Somewhere beneath the rational layer of your brain, you like to think that she sympathizes with your hesitation to get back on the saddle.

“Psst!” you hiss, leaning against the wooden gate of her pen. “Artemis! Come here, my love.”

She lifts her head up from the floor, chewing on a handful of hay. You dig your fingers into the material of your cardigan, producing a sugar cube from the depths of your left pocket. Artemis’ nostrils flare as you hold it out in your palm; she trots over happily, drawn to the sweet treat.

“Haven’t come to visit you in a few days,” you murmur as she dips her mouth against your hand. You stroke your knuckles down the side of her neck, petting her softly. “I’m sorry about that. Things have been so chaotic back at the house. I’ve barely gotten a moment to breathe.”

She whinnies quietly.

“Did you miss me?” you ask. When she nuzzles her nose into your arm, you smile. “I missed you, too. I thought that maybe you were developing a preference for Lydia. But that’s not possible, is it? I’m your favourite.”

Someone clears their throat from behind you. You gasp and whip around, hands flying to your chest. Your gaze locks onto an amused smirk and a pair of impish green eyes, and your stomach lurches uneasily.

“Hello,” you stammer, air caught in your lungs.

“Hello,” Harry replies.

He’s still dressed in his attire from dinner, though his appearance is significantly more relaxed. He’s abandoned the white bowtie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, allowing his collarbones to peek out from beneath the pallid fabric. The cuffs of his suit have been rolled up, and his hair has completely fallen from its acute coif. Glossy strands tumble down around his temples, curling in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch them.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. You hope that he doesn’t hear the twinge of embarrassment in your voice. He caught you in the middle of a one-sided conversation with your horse, after all.

Harry holds up his hand. There’s a pale pink envelope clutched between his fingers.

“Post,” he says, like it’s the only reasonable explanation. It is, you suppose. “I was on my way home when I spotted you.”

Home. The little cottage just down the trail—the groundskeeper’s residence. It was built years ago, only a few acres away from the main house. You pass it sometimes when you take Artemis out for a walk. More often than not, you’ve found yourself studying its red bricks and white windowsills, yearning for a peek inside.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, wrenching you from your thoughts.

“Yes.” You nod, blinking twice. “Your letter—,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “—who is it from?”

And you immediately want to sink into the earth, because it’s none of your bloody business, is it? You have no right to be poking around and questioning him about his personal life. A slight grimace tugs at the corners of your lips, smearing a pained expression across your features.

But Harry just hums, unperturbed by your inquiry.

“My sister,” he tells you, shrugging. “She writes to me from Paris.”

He has a sister?

“Paris,” you echo dumbly. “France?”

His lips twitch. You want to set yourself on fire.

“Does she like it?”

“I think so,” he says, watching you with twinkling eyes. “She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m—” He hesitates, looking away. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

And though he hadn’t let the words slip out, you know exactly what he meant to say.

She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m stuck here.

A pang of guilt ricochets through your chest. Blood thunders in your ears as you direct your attention to the ground, kicking at the dirt below your slippers. You suddenly realise that whilst Harry is fully clothed, you’re dressed in nothing but a flimsy silk nightgown. You wrap your arms around your torso, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your knuckles.

“Er—”

You glance up at Harry when the awkward noise falls from his mouth. “Yes?”

He lifts his chin and gestures toward Artemis, who has returned to her tasty pile of hay. “She belongs to Lydia, does she not?”

“No, actually,” you reply. “Lydia takes her out, typically, but…she’s mine.”

“I see.” His face renders an innocent type of curiosity, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “Do you ride?”

You balk, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I beg your pardon?”

And just like that, the innocence is gone. Harry’s features melt into a portrait of wicked mirth. His irises glint roguishly as he fixes you with a shrewd, crafty smirk.

“The horse,” he says slowly, his tone ripe with amusement. “Do you ride?”

“Oh,” you croak. “Sorry, I—”

Your nostrils flare as you avert your eyes, too humiliated to meet his gaze. He’s aware of the way in which you interpreted his question. He understands why you were so appalled. He knows exactly where your mind went.

“No,” you answer quickly. “I don’t. Not anymore, at least.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, confused.

“How long has it been?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mount.”

“I stopped a few months before you came to work for us,” you say, playing with a loose thread hanging from your cardigan. After a beat of silence, you add, “There was…an incident. I fell.”

“Oh.” He recoils slightly, taken aback by your revelation. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.” Your feet scuffle against the dusty ground. “Sometimes, I catch myself longing for it, but I just—” You shrug. “I can never seem to get back on.”

“I understand.” His response is excruciatingly sincere.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He takes an experimental step forward, gauging your reaction. When you don’t make a move to retreat, he does it again. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he draws nearer, and your heart stutters beneath your ribs when he angles his body to the side, offering you his arm.

“May I walk you back?”

Is there a hint of fondness in his voice, or is it merely your imagination?

“You may,” you concede weakly.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and bid Artemis goodnight. The two of you stroll back up to the estate in silence, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. The wind whistles through the thicket of trees lining the edge of the property. Crickets chirp loudly, seeking shelter between blades of grass. Harry’s body is unbelievably warm, radiating heat despite the slight chill carried by nightfall.

You release his arm once you reach the steps of the back porch. He studies you carefully as you climb the first two stairs, a divot digging into the space between his brows.

All of a sudden, you pause, brought to a standstill by an invisible string. You spin back around, looking down and finding a pair of bright jade eyes in the dark.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you say softly, hands dropping to your sides.

Quicker than a bolt of lightning, he seizes your fingers between his. A faint gasp leaves your mouth when he bows forward and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Harry peers up at you innocuously, pulling his lips away from your skin after a long moment of stillness.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says. The words flow over you like molasses, viscous and warm and inconceivably sweet. “Sleep tight.”

~*~

PART II: The Week

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #there's not a single curse word in this fic holy shit.............i think this is a first for me snfsjsdnsfsjfsn #ANYWAY i hope u like it!!!!! i'll be here if yall wanna chat after lol #farmhandrry #harry writing

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laughingphoenixleader · 3 years ago

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Here’s another full-fledged fic, friends!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Rating: G

A/N: This one’s set the night of Season 3, Episode 3: The Holocrons of Fate. This is my vision of how Kanera dealt with the whole K-disappearing-for-six-kriffing-months thing. Enjoy and feel free to leave feedback if the Force calls you to!

@kanerallels <3

Hera Syndulla can’t wield the Force.

Not even a little bit.

But even so, she’s been told that she has a real talent for sensing other people’s emotions.

It started when she was a little girl—a knot in her stomach or some tension in her lekku would appear out of nowhere. She’d suddenly feel frustrated, sad, or afraid without understanding why. Except for times during puberty and her time of month—unfortunately, Hera wasn’t exempt from actual mood swings—those feelings that came out of the blue were never hers at all. When these unexplained emotions appeared within her, Hera would come to find out that someone close to her was struggling with something that had induced the exact feeling that Hera had experienced. So, she was often able to figure out what the people around her were feeling before they understood it themselves. It even, on occasion, happened with complete strangers.

Over time, she even became capable of knowing whose wave of emotions she was being hit by. Everyone’s felt slightly different. Emotional intensity varied from person to person, as did how they felt their emotions. Some beings felt their emotions pounding in their temples, others carried their stress in their shoulders, while others’ feelings made knots in their stomachs materialize. Hera became such an expert on discovering how each person was feeling that she’d often greet a friend or family member by asking why they were feeling so angry, sad, or afraid. The closer she was to a person, the more sensitive she was to their emotions, and the stronger they felt to her.

Hera has never been as in touch with anyone’s emotions as she is with those of Kanan Jarrus.

During the six months when he distanced himself from Hera and the rest of his family, she had always known when the nightmares had come. But he had never come to find her like he used to when the terrors struck. Hera could feel the pull to him—it was always present, no matter how she denied it—growing inside of her until it was almost unbearable, but she had steeled herself and remained where she was (usually the pilot’s seat). She spent plenty of nights staring off into the stars like she and Kanan used to do together, feeling the pain of doing nothing gnawing at her soul. But her respect for Kanan’s desires and needs outweighed it all. She knew him better than anyone else, so she could tell that he didn’t want her help right then. If he had, he would have come and found her. He had to come to her on his own time.

For six months, Kanan hadn’t wanted her help. He hadn’t wanted her.

Hera had to keep telling herself that this hadn’t broken her heart.

When she feels the sickening wrench of panic in her chest while sitting in the pilot’s chair on Atollon, though, she knows in her core that this time is different. This time, he needs her.

In an instant, she’s jumped to her feet, placed her datapad on the floor of the cockpit, and is slamming the button on the Ghost’s controls that opens the door to Kanan’s cabin. No one but her knows that any of the cabin door locks can be overridden from the cockpit, and she plans on keeping it that way.

She’s in his cabin in a flash, heart racing and Kanan’s fear coursing through her veins. She can hear him tossing and turning in the dark as she presses the button to turn on the lights. The dark-haired Jedi in the bottom bunk is drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around his thrashing form. His scarred eyes are shut tightly. Hera realizes that, though he returned from his self-imposed exile several days ago and lost his sight six months ago, she hasn’t seen him without some sort of blindfold or mask covering his eyes since the incident. His face is twisted into an agonized expression.

Hera runs to his side. “Kanan,” she tries to call him from whatever world of horrors he’s trapped in. “Kanan, wake up!”

The Jedi’s whole body immediately responds to her voice, turning towards her and stilling slightly. Kanan’s always told her that he loves the sound of her voice. So she keeps talking.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine.”

Kanan’s face twists again, and he seems to look around searchingly, though his eyes are still closed. His body is shaking, his fear palpable.

“It’s me, Kanan, I’m right beside you; you’re safe.”

His eyes fly open.

Kanan’s eyes, eyes that Hera could have stared into forever (though she had usually done her best not to think about that), eyes full of beautiful, vibrant aquamarine, are now pale and colorless.

Hera scolds herself for the lump in her throat that forms. It doesn’t matter. This shouldn’t upset me. Am I really that shallow?

She shakes off the sudden wave of sorrow and focuses on Kanan.

“Hera?” he calls for her, still searching. His face fills with panic again. “Where are you?”

“Look at me—“

Hera stops short.

That was how she had always drawn him from his nightmares before. Look at me, she’d tell him. I’m here. She’d turned the light on for this exact purpose when she’d entered, forgetting for a moment that everything had changed.

She’ll have to get creative this time.

“I can’t!” Kanan cried. “I can’t anymore, Hera, it’s gone—“

“I know, I know—“

“You’re so far away,” his voice breaks as he speaks.

Hera moves closer. “No. I’m right here, Kanan.”

“No,” he says miserably. “You’re gone—you left me—everyone left me—I’m useless, I’m broken, no one needs me anymore—it’s too late—“

His voice, full of anguish, breaks again and his body shakes with tears that he is no longer able to shed. Hera forgets that he broke her heart, that he left them all, that the deepening relationship between them had suddenly become nonexistent. The man she loves is hurting, and she’s going to fix that. Or, at least, help him through it.

She goes back to the door, turning off the lights so she’s forced to see how he sees. Then she climbs into the bunk beside him.

His body is racked with sobs as she places a hand on his cheek. He gasps at her touch.

“Kanan,” she says in her most soothing, reassuring tone—the one that has never failed to calm him before—“do you feel me?”

“Hera,” he whispers, filled with relief, and sounding…awestruck, for some reason.

“It’s me,” she tells him comfortingly, emphasizing her next words. “I never left you, and I never will.”

Kanan begins to mumble her name, one of his hands finding its way on top of hers, the other holding onto her forearm for dear life. The way he says her name always makes her heart race, though she’s never really understood why. No one else pronounces it like that…the way he speaks out the two syllables somehow sounds and feels like a caress. He begins to speak hastily; desperately.

“I can still fight for the Rebellion—I have the Force, it’ll help me see—I’m not truly blind because I can see myself.”

“I believe you, Kanan,” Hera presses her forehead against his. “You’re not useless. We’re never giving up on you.”

Kanan feels her arm, touches her shoulders, his hands seeming to be on a mission to make sure she’s really there. When they near her lekku, Hera moves them away. He’s touched them before, with her permission. That first time he did was the best nights she’d ever had…and so was every other night he’d done it again. Now that he’s been gone for so long, and he clearly doesn’t want her…

Focus on your mission. He needs you—right here; right now.

Hera slips out of her thoughts and feels Kanan place his hand on the side of her face for a moment, then take her in his arms and hold her close. He presses his forehead to hers. Their closeness makes Hera’s heart attempt to catch up to Kanan’s pounding one.

Slowly, his body relaxes. His heavy breathing evens.

Hera relaxes, too. More than she has in six months.

She hasn’t let herself realize how much she’s missed the complete safety she always feels in his arms. She lets him hold her, tucking her head underneath his. Kanan makes a noise of discomfort, and she smiles softly, placing her forehead against his again. This has always been the position they’ve used when comforting each other. Kanan sighs contentedly.

Eventually, he stirs, and she knows he’s emerged from the nightmare.

“Hey,” Kanan greets her, the panic gone from his voice, gentleness and awkwardness taking its place.

There has never been awkwardness between them. Not like this.

Hera lifts her head from his. “Better now?” she asks him.

He shudders. “That’s an understatement.”

Hera strokes his cheek in reply. The last six months had seemed to fade into oblivion during the last few minutes, but now she feels the shards of pain return.

Will he ask me to leave?

“Hera…” he says her name for the thousandth time that night. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she responds quietly.

They don’t move from their positions.

After a moment, he continues tentatively. “You don’t have to stay.”

Hera can still feel the remains of her anger towards him from several days before cutting into her, but the image of his tortured face and voice from earlier are seared into her mind.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks gently.

His arms involuntarily tighten around her.

She laughs softly in spite of it all. Though her hurt and anger is returning, she’s delighted that he wants her beside him.

“I’m staying.”

Hera realizes that he’s been holding his breath when he resumes breathing again. His pulse speeds up, though it isn’t pounding frantically like it was earlier.

The night he’d come back, they’d had their worst fight to date. Once they were alone in his room, she’d tried—Kanan would chastise her for using that word—to hold her emotions back, to be understanding, but her hurt had led to anger, and it had burst out of her, as it often did. Words had spilled out of her, words she’d bottled up inside her for the last six months. She’d said things she knew she’d regret, things that she could see cutting through him. But her own pain had blinded her in that moment. She’d kept going for those six months, never stopping long enough to deal with her hurt, so it had only festered. Kanan had been defensive, stony-faced, his arms crossed, and that had only enraged her further.

Then, today, after several days of avoiding each other, Maul had attacked the Ghost. Throughout the experience, Hera’s lekku had burned with the knowledge that her last interaction with Kanan, besides a short phrase here and there, had been full of biting words and simmering hurt.

She’d spent the hours after Kanan had rescued her and the others contemplating out what to say and how to apologize. She’d been in the middle of doing so when the wrench of terror sent her straight to his room.

The fight had ended with her snapping, “Don’t pretend you still want me. You proved that that wasn’t true when you abandoned me—abandoned us for half a year.” Her voice had broken against her will. “You didn’t even say you were leaving. Or when you’d be back.” Then she’d slammed on the button to close her door in his face, blinking furiously to hide the scorching tears in her eyes. Hera had slid down the wall, then spent the rest of that night finally letting the tears she’d held back spill out of her.

“You…you want to stay?” Kanan now asks her uncertainly. “Everything you said several nights ago—it all makes sense, and I’m so sorry.” His earnestness and guilt rolls off of him as he continues. “I understand if you don’t forgive me; I know I hurt you—I was gone for so long—“

Hera interrupts softly. “I forgive you.”

He stops his uncomfortable, awkward squirming.

“You do?”

His tone is so full of uncertainty and hope that Hera’s heart melts.

“I do,” she tells him gently. “For everything.”

Kanan begins to protest, torture and regret emanating from his voice, even as Hera can feel some of the tension begin to drain out of him. “No, Hera, you shouldn’t forgive me so easily. I don’t deserve that. After all these years, I just left. The way I made you feel…” Kanan’s voice wavers before he continues. “I thought that the Force was telling me to spend time alone—that was my excuse. But I distanced myself from the Force, from you, from everyone—and I don’t even know why.” He shakes his head, incredulous at himself, then desperately starts to explain. “I couldn’t handle any responsibilities or obligations. My feelings took over—I thought I was useless, that I was a failure because of my blindness—my depression overwhelmed me. I was lost—lost again, like I was when you found me on Gorse.” Kanan’s still holding her, but his embrace feels almost fragile, like he’s afraid that she’ll rip herself away from him at any second. “I thought I had grown since then, that it would never happen again. It wasn’t just that I lost my vision—it was that Ahsoka is gone, that we lost against that Sith Lord—” Kanan heaves a sigh, one heavy with self-hatred. “And now I’m making it about me again.”

Hera listens intently. He’s clearly been carrying this within him for too long. “It’s all right,” she reassures him quietly. “Talk to me.”

“I never stopped wanting you,” he says in a rough voice, one filled with sincerity and raw emotion, and Hera’s broken heart skips a beat. “And I know that that doesn’t seem true, because I still stayed away.” He’s quiet for a moment. Hera can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he works to verbalize and explain. “I couldn’t face you. Not when I felt so lacking, and you’re so…so capable, so impactful, so successful.“

Hera nearly protests at this, but she stays silent for his sake, knowing that her interruption won’t be helpful to him right now.

“I was ashamed. Ashamed of my weakness. Ashamed that I didn’t sense Maul coming, that I didn’t stop him somehow. And…I couldn’t face the pain of not being able to see you. I didn’t want to hold you back or burden you, or make you feel like you had to let me tag along on missions. I thought that you were better off without me in your way.”

Hera’s heart is reeling and rejoicing at the fact that she is still wanted, that he never really rejected her, but she also knows that he’ll only keep spiraling downward if she doesn’t interject at the right time—which is now.

“You don’t have to explain it all to me,” she tells him sincerely, though the still-angry side of her screams that that isn’t true.

“I’m just trying—I just want you to know that…that I still love you, Hera.”

The earnestness in his voice and the admission of “I love you” does it. Hera can feel her shattered, rejected heart begin to heal. What he says next only soothes it further.

“The depression drowned everything out—but sometimes I would hear your voice, or see your face in my mind, and that kept me from losing all hope. From giving up on everything.”

Hera’s heart swells, and tears spring up in her own fully whole eyes. She places her forehead against his again. His breath catches, but he finishes speaking. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t know why you would, after how much I hurt you. I…I can tell you’re heartbroken, Hera.” His body starts shaking again, as if he’s living inside of another nightmare. “And knowing I did that to you—just because all I could think about was myself and what I needed, rather than what you and the rest of the crew needed—“ Hera can feel the unshed tears again as he begins to apologize, again and again, until he loses the ability to speak. She gently cradles his head, stroking his disheveled hair, her own healing heart throbbing at his anguish. She brushes her thumbs over where the tears would be, if everything were different.

“I’m too full of mistakes,” he sobs. “You deserve much better than someone like me.”

Hera decides that now she’s on a mission—a mission to stop her Jedi’s spiral of self-hatred.

“Listen to me, Kanan Jarrus,” she tells him in a firm but kind tone, as she continues to stroke his hair. “You’re no worse than anyone else. We all make mistakes. We’re all selfish at times. Even those of us who devote our lives to helping others sometimes hurt them instead. Caring about someone means helping them move on from their mistakes and make it right. What kind of people would we be if we never gave others a second chance?”

His dry shaking begins to stop, and Hera can feel him listening in rapt attention.

“You know I don’t give up—and I never gave up on you. I never will. Yes, you’ve hurt me, but I care enough about you to forgive you. Who you are right now is worth forgiving. You’re worthy of forgiveness, of my choosing you, even though you aren’t perfect.” Hera’s words seem to hit hard, since Kanan’s breath catches again. She continues genuinely and tenderly, “Even if I met the most perfect person in the galaxy, I’d still choose you instead. You’re truly good, Kanan.”

After a moment of silence, Kanan whispers, “You really mean that?”

Hera lifts his face and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Of course I do. And I really do forgive you. If you’ll forgive me for hurting you instead of listening to you over the last few days.” Now her own voice is colored with remorse. “I should have been there for you, helping you readjust.”

“But, Hera, I understand why you were angry. I deserved it.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Hera points out. “Will you forgive me?”

Immediately, he replies, “Yeah. I forgive you.”

Then his hands move for the first time since his nightmare. He places one on her cheek, while the other moves to the small of her back. Hera’s heart begins to pick up speed as his face nears hers. “Is it all right if I…?” he asks in a whisper, ever respectful of her boundaries. In answer, Hera moves her own face closer to his, and their lips meet.

Six months is a long time.

But the longer you’re deprived of something, the sweeter it is when you finally get to experience it again.

The first thing Hera feels is the warmth. It spreads throughout her whole body, especially her lekku, chasing away the emptiness and loneliness that became the new normal in Kanan’s absence. One of his hands caresses her cheek, while the other pulls her close, resting on the small of her back. She pulls the band from his now-destroyed ponytail, slipping it expertly onto her wrist (she’s had plenty of practice) and threading her fingers into his hair. She can feel him smile into her lips when she does so, which makes her smile in return. Kanan seems to get a burst of excitement, a delighted gasp escaping him. Hera pulls away just enough to ask, “what is it?”

He responds, his voice charged with enthusiasm and love,

“I got to feel you smile again.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over Hera, her heart squeezing at the overwhelming amount of sweetness infused into that small sentence. She presses her lips to his again, beaming just for him. Kanan laughs giddily, a sound of pure joy.

Hera hasn’t heard him laugh in so long.

So she can’t help but laugh with him. A moment later, his thumb begins stroking her cheek more urgently. She gently breaks the kiss to ask, “What is it, love?”She can feel his giddiness rise at the term of endearment, which makes her beam again. He murmurs in a voice filled to the brim with gratitude, “Thank you, Hera. For forgiving me. I thought that I’d lost this. I thought that I’d messed up too badly to ever earn your affection again.” Misery seems to overwhelm him at the thought.

“There’s no need to earn it,” she assures him, placing her other hand, the one not entwined in his hair, on his chest. “Honestly, I couldn’t take it from you if I tried,” she confesses.

“Are you saying that you’re hopeless, Hera Syndulla?” The cocky slyness, which had made up the Kanan Jarrus that she first met all those years ago on Gorse, fills his voice.

She rolls her eyes, then remembers that the lights are out, and that he can’t see her anyway. And yet—

“You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you?”

“You earned it,” she deadpans.

He laughs again and somehow pulls her closer, so that their foreheads are touching again.

“There’s the Hera I remember,” he declares, tenderness and the classic mischievousness returning.

She showcases her own mischievous streak in her reply. “Missed me, love?”

“Every second,” he answers tenderly.

“I missed you, too,” she tells him, warmth filling her tone and her soul.

That sly mischievousness again. “Especially my sense of humor, right?”

“Actually, that’s what I missed the least,” she switches back into deadpanning.

“Hey!” he protests, his tone a convincing one of feigned offense, but then it makes way for the trademark slyness. “But you did miss it.”

Hera groans. “That is not what I said.”

“You’re not denying it,” Kanan teases.

After a moment, he declares, “I’ve finally found the one benefit that comes with being blind.”

“What’s that?” she asks, resigning herself to whatever nonsense he’s about to spill.

She can hear the grin in his voice. “Now I can’t see it when you glare at me.”

Hera rolls her eyes, then says in a playful tone, “But you can feel my anger in the Force, right?”

Kanan’s silent for a moment. “It’s impossible not to.” He shudders, mortified at the thought of it.

“Kanan Jarrus, you’re a Jedi Knight and a veteran of the Clone Wars, and you’re afraid of me?”

He lets out a huff of laughter, like the answer is obvious. “You bet.”

Hera’s voice is devious. “You should be.”

“Everybody should be. You’re terrifying, Hera.”

She chuckles, shaking her head slightly, her forehead still pressed to his. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Come on, I never exaggerate.”

After a moment of silence on Hera’s part, he amends reluctantly, “okay, I usually don’t exaggerate. You’ve seen how the kids and I look at you when you’re furious with us.”

Hera considers this. She always knows that when she gives members of her crew that glare, they’ll do whatever she says. Usually. “Maybe I should use it on whoever’s trying to attack us sometime.”

“You should. Just to see what would happen.”

She laughs. “I don’t even need a blaster. No armor can protect those stormtroopers from my death glare.”

“You better believe it,” Kanan murmurs, stroking the small of her back.

“I sure am glad you’re not angry with me anymore,” he adds after a bit of comfortable silence.

“Me too, love.”

Chills ripple over him at the term of endearment, and she chuckles lightly, a bubble of joy rising inside of her at how much he treasures her little ways of showing him how much she loves him.

Hera has no clue how long they stay like this, stealing kisses, sharing little touches, slipping in and out of conversation (complete with plenty of smiles and eyerolls). What she does know is that the distance between her and Kanan has disappeared. The emptiness and feelings of being incomplete have been replaced by fullness and completeness. No, they aren’t as close as they were before Malachor, but Hera has faith that that will change over time. What matters most is that she knows that Kanan is happier than he’s been in a long time. Eventually, they drift off into sleep, still holding each other close. Their dreams are peaceful, for there’s no room for nightmares when nothing but long-awaited contentment fills them both to overflowing.

When morning comes, the members of the Ghost Crew don’t need to be able to sense each others’ emotions to know that things have finally changed for the better.

The family is whole again.

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paddymoonstruck · 4 years ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬┃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

chapter one

warnings: cursing, mentions of death, season 4/manga spoilers ??? (that’s about it, think!)

word count: 2,705

notes: this is the first installment of wistful irises !!! i guess it would be a slow-burn fic that would contain 5 or more chapters. i wrote this to cope with the tragedy of AOT manga chapter 138 — that’s just fucked up tbh. please give this one a like/reblog/feedback so i know whether or not you liked it !!

NEXT CHAPTER: H E R E

𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

It was quiet — so eerily quiet, a hand came up to soothe her ears bitten by the cold wind. Devon’s palm felt at the rough rubbles on the surface of which she was sat on. Everything she laid eyes on tugged at her heart, scanning at her surroundings as if she looked one more time, her vision would change.

Alas, she gazed upon the damaged cities from her place atop Wall Rose, with no success. Devon threw her head back, opting to find comfort at the stars that laid peacefully on the sky.

“They’re dead.” She asserted, nearly winced at the wave of overwhelming devastation rushing at her heart.

However, she was unsure who or what she was alluding to. Was it the people of Paradis? Those she lost? Or even — the stars?

Nothing was clear, at the moment. Only hurt and confusion clouded her devices. She found her palms closing in on the small rubbles she had caught, clutching them tightly in her fist.

It had been four years since everything went into a complete spiral. Perhaps it was for her alone, considering a massive part of her died along with the hundreds of comrades who sacrificed themselves for the sake of the truth.

She remembered the day they found out about the life that existed beyond these walls. The walls she had known all her life, was quite literally, made to imprison its people. It was unclear whether she was angry or sad that there was a whole world out there that hated their existence so much that they’d created monsters to attack them.

“It’s late, Devon.”

She recognized that sweet-tuned voice instantly but didn’t turn to look his way as she spoke. “It’s awfully cold, too.” Her voice came in a whisper.

Her new companions footsteps grew closer, making her glance to her right. “Are you here to wallow in despair with me, Armin?”

The blonde simply sat down beside his friend, looking ahead the dark path. “No,” He answered. “I was just looking for you.”

The silence returned after that. Chilly air wafting at the night, Devon laid her hands on her lap, inspecting how they’ve gotten small cuts from the sharp stone she had held. Her ears felt blocked as her hands began to tremble. She clenched her teeth in the hopes to ebb away her impending emotions. She exhaled a shattered breath, pressing her hands against the skin of her face.

Armin’s hand that intended to ease Devon’s cries, seem to have worsen them the moment it touched her. However, he continued on, rubbing small circles at the column of her back.

“I — “ Devon started, her voice failing her as another ripple of pain pounded at her chest.

An encouraging hand reached up against her own, gently coaxing her into a state of solace, just enough for her to be able to convey her emotions.

With a breath, Devon began once more. “I thought we’ll be close to peace, once we discovered what was in that goddamn basement,” She laughed, lacking humor. The back of her palm wiping at the tears that had fallen on her cheeks. “But — it was just another door to one more disaster.”

“That’s true,” Armin agreed, but still mulled over her words. “It is a big step from freedom, though.”

She gritted her teeth, baring the headache that came with it. There was a part of her that knew it was the exact idea Armin had in mind. Regardless of her understanding, she couldn’t help but feel a whistle of displeasure crawling against her lips.

With a swing of her head, she finally flashed her attention to Armin. Devon gave him a once-over, noticing how his once shoulder-length hair, had been cut shorter, lips curled into a frown, dragging down a creases on his forehead. The main thing that always saddened Devon was the look in his eyes.

Armin was the last person Devon thought she’d see with those haunting wisp. He was the last shred of hope she had in this world, even before everything came tumbling down, Devon saw Armin as a beacon, that she could run to whenever it all became horrifyingly dark— staring at him now, Devon felt extremely helpless, loneliness grasping at her throat, catching herself reaching for Armin’s hand that was placed on her back, snatching it on her own.

“We’ve lost so much,” She mumbled, compressing her grip on his hand. “I can’t afford to lose anything anymore— Armin—”

“You won’t—”

“— If we go tomorrow, I will—”

“Devon—”

“No— we’re going into a lion’s den! Every single person in that goddamn land wants us dead!” She stressed, leaning in closer to Arnim as if it’s bound to improve his comprehension.

Armin halted, observing the panic flood in Devon’s sunken eyes. The usual brilliance of its green hue had faded over time. In it’s place were tired, dull irises staring back at him.

He swallowed the lump building up his throat, nodding in understanding. “I know— but we have to bring him home, Devon.”

With a quick dark chuckle, Devon faced the sky, leaning her head back. “I don’t even know if I want to see him,”

Huffing out a breath Armin was holding, he abruptly got on his feet, pulling his hands from Devon’s freezing ones.

The latter flashed him a confused glance, awaiting his next move. She watched as Armin shook off his Survey Corps jacket, soon hanging it on her shoulders.

Maybe it was the topic of discussion that made them neglect the air that had been a lot chillier than before. Devon felt warmth seeping back into her skin as she hugged the material tighter against her body.

“You don’t seem to have a choice for the matter,” Armin muttered, gazing down at her. “Whether or not you’re in good terms with him, Eren still belong with us.”

Devon grimaced, as if Armin had said something completely ridiculous— in her eyes, it was.

She recalled that painful night, about three months ago. The night Eren decided to sneak out and leave Paradis. He had been babbling about it for weeks prior to his escape. Devon made the mistake of thinking it was all that— mindless babbling.

She was wrong, of course. Eren had actually planned everything. He was going to see through his stupid plan.

“Are being fucking serious right now?” Devon hissed, distressed eyes were scanning Eren’s face, hoping this was some sick prank he’d gotten everyone in.

Eren cringed at the volume of her voice, hands putting up immediately to cup her mouth. “Devon— Please— Listen, yeah?”

His pleas were met by deaf ears, as Devon slapped his plams away from his mouth, glaring at him with the outmost disbelief.

“You’re being stupid,” She scoffed. “This is stupid— Eren— You want to go there?” Her furrowed eyebrows deepened the more she thought about it.

Eren bit his lip, nodding slowly, standing rigid in front of her, frozen at the fire in her eyes. He examined her, sitting on her bed, contemplating the information he threw at her face.

The light of the single candle in the room, illuminated the left side of her face as she turned to him again. “What ever you think is going to fix this, it’ll only call for another war—”

“That’s nothing new.”

“You selfish—” She had lunged at him, limbs acting before her brain. “—little brat—!” An echo deafening resounded in the small enclosed space, rearing on the silence it followed. Devon’s palm stung, eyes raging and barely seeing anything beyond her seething anger.

Before she had the mind to process anything, her head banged against a solid surface, a groan leaving her lips from the impact.

Everything was fuzzy, scarcely making out anything at sight. Only cloudy images filled her vision, almost not feeling the bruising grip pressing her down by the wrists.

The searing breath near her ear, felt uncomfortably cold, a pair of lips grazing at the tip, making her shudder.

“For your own protection— all of you— remember that . . .”

The words echoed, but she could barely hear the last ones, as her breath turned calmer, the last thing she saw were those turquoise orbs, looking back at her with an emotion she couldn’t quite read.

Devon shook herself out of the memory. There was more to it, she knew that — but she couldn’t seem to remember. When she tries, a huge headache always came crashing down on her. A sick wave slapped her as she thought about the dreadful possibility of Eren, messing with her memories.

She hated the big gapping wall in her mind. It was always incomplete, left her nothing but empty guesses about what else he could have said to her that night before he left her hanging with a missing piece in her heart.

He left them — and just like that, he gets to come home in the most unnecessarily brutal way possible. Eren was asking for a bloodbath, and unfortunately, that was what most likely going to happen tomorrow.

“He’s going to get us killed.” She muttered, voice thinning at the thought of her fallen comrades — endless blood — fire — explosions — “We’ll be lucky if we all make it out in one piece.”

This time, Armin didn’t contract her declaration, having her look down. He was frighteningly aware of the fact that any of them could die at any given moment. It brought him peril at how Devon had smacked him in the face with the reality he was trying to avoid. A part of him wanted to believe it was all going to go smoothly, but the logical part of him had mulled over the dreadful alternative for a long time now.

He sympathized with the hostile feelings Devon had grown for Eren. Perhaps it was due to the puzzling relationship they possessed. If he was to base it on his observations alone, it was painfully obvious that they cared deeply for one another but never had the time or courage to say it.

No one has ever pried about their relationship, since they both dismissed it as nonsense. It was perplexing yet as clear as day what they had for each other.

They would always be found bicker when they were younger, Devon calling Eren an ugly airhead then Eren shooting back that they were the same. Back then, it was true. They were kids who thought they could do everything themselves. Armin could say, Devon grew out of that attitude as time passed by when he got to know Devon a little better.

After the battle with Zeke, Reiner and Bertholdt, the amount of trauma everyone endured was terrible. The bloody aftermath of Paradis was engraved into their minds, never fading until their last breath.

The guilt ate at Armin when he found out how he came to be alive. He often wondered why it was him. Why did Captain Levi give him the chance to live over Commander Erwin.

On the other hand, remorse gripped at Devon’s throat at the unintentional betrayal that crossed her mind that day. She found herself opening her mouth before she could hide it away.

“I was so desperate for peace . . .” She whispered, yanking down Armin by his hands, his behind slamming against the hard concrete as he was forced to sit down in front of her. “That I . . . For a long time — I believed that only Erwin could lead us there —”

“It’s alright — “

“It isn’t — it was meant to make me happy, for goodness sake — you came back from the dead after I stood there and watch you get burned alive . . .” She failed to realize she was crying until she felt droplets of her tears falling on her hands, intertwined with Armin’s.

Looking away, she continued, Armin watching her carefully. “Mikasa and Eren were desperately convincing Captain Levi to resurrect you — while I stared at both yours and Commander Erwin’s body , absolutely loathing the choice that had to be made.”

Devon could no longer hold in her heavy sobs, as it broke through her completely. “I get why you thought that, and you weren’t selfish for doing it, were you?” She listened to Armin’s reassuring voice. “You thought Erwin should’ve had it because you believed people would follow him and would avoid getting hurt — “

“ — you’d be able to do that too, though . . .” Devon countered, sniffling as she glanced back at Armin’s oceanic orbs. “I was just blinded by fear to think straight back then.”

Armin smiled at Devon in a silent gratitude. “I thought about everything you did, too, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m too blinded by my own fears to face another life that was given to me — but I promised Captain Levi and Commander Hanji I’ll do everything it takes to bring us the peace we’ve been seeking out for years.”

Devon winced at the sudden touch on her head, chestnut locks swishing from one side after the other as Armin ruffled her hair.

“Regretting could only get you so far,” Armin stated, a small smile gracing his face. “What’s important is what you decide to do about it.”

Warmth flooded at Devon’s core, nearly bursting into tears at Armin’s comforting words. Her mind went back to Eren, his circumstances and living conditions on that island were mostly unknown. But seeing as he had the facilities to send a letter, hints that it must be at the least safe.

She started to fly over the scattered thoughts inside her head, mulling over how mentally drained she has been, yet the noise and dull of her heart seem to only worsen. The countless times she had to convince herself of the good things left in the world to bask the gift of life, but lately, she found herself sitting by the windowsill of her room. Eyes always glancing up the sky whether or not they were painted with shining stars.

Devon often clutched her chest when the uncontrollable pangs in her heart refuses to remain still. Some days, the rejection of waking up rattles her tremendously, and the refusal to face the day ahead was stronger than anything.

She wanted nothing more than to take a few steps back and reverse time to relish the tranquility of it all. It sounded ridiculously selfish, but she’d trade anything if it means she would awake to Eren and Jean’s loud voices arguing or to see Sasha pocket goods she had stolen from the kitchen while being chased down by Armin. And oh — what she wouldn’t give to replay the day they’ve all bonded together after Keith Shadis made Sasha run until she was in the brink of insanity.

It’s those little things that made her nostalgic, bringing a sad smile on her lips that she wasn’t sure if she wanted those thoughts randomly popping up her mind. Sometimes, disbelief hits her harder than anything whenever she’d allow herself to scan the faces of what’s left of her teammates.

When Erwin had told them, he knows “they’d one day go far and achieve great things”, if he was still here, Devon would surely make him look at what had become of them.

Everyone was preparing for the expedition in Marley tomorrow. Devon had exited the room when she had heard the severity of the situation. Eren was going to wreck havoc in that foreign island and he gave them no other choice than to lend him aid.

It was rather conflicting, Devon was worried for him but nonetheless, despised his living-breathing self. She often wondered about his whole motive, considering his adamant proclamation that it wasn’t for his own self-indulgence.

It felt like it was, as she began to feel the shuddering screams of the impending battle that was set to take place.

If another life of her loved one’s taken from her tomorrow, she fears that it might throw her in an unstable state and she had every right to blame it all on Eren.

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danny-chase · 3 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne & Bruce Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Damian Wayne Centric, Panic Attack, Sickfic, Sick Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, he gets half a hug, Damian Wayne is a sweetheart, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Damian Wayne is a good brother Series: Part 10 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Sequel to Pneumonia, Damian decides to spend his day home with Richard.

Full story under cut

Footsteps echo through the hall, light, but heavy enough to be intentional. Too carefully timed to be confident in their placement. And with too little bounce to be Richard’s.

Nor would he waken if they were Richard’s and that’s really his first clue. Briskly throwing off the sheets and flattening his hair, he throws open the door before his father can make it the rest of the way down the hall. The footsteps stop in their tracks.

He leaves the door open as invitation, yet it’s unnecessary – father doesn’t approach. From what little time they’ve spent together, Damian finds it strange – his father is single minded in his work but yet so indecisive in his home – well – really this wasn’t his home. “How is he?” The words come out too harshly and he grits his teeth, hoping for leniency – father is to be respected, not talked to in such a manner.

Nor was father was pleased the last time he erred in his judgment. Ever since he’d failed the first time he meant, he’d been treated like a plague, locked in his room then, and avoided now.

…But he’d heard stories from Richard about a softer man than the one he’d met a year ago. A man whose love was stronger than his hate – who took in children and saved their souls.

It was odd that such a man had shied away from his own son. Damian couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong – he understood the skirmish with Drake was wrong – but Richard spoke of a man who could forgive. And yet. He’d only seen forgiveness from Richard.

He’d thought perhaps, that had been his father’s influence.

Another footstep resounds around him, and the realization strikes – he hasn’t moved. Huffing – at no one in particular – he silently strides forward, yanking his dresser drawers open to retrieve a set of perfectly folded clothes.

“Damian.” Father stays just out of sight beyond the door. Its nerve wracking – almost painful – waiting for information. Richard promised he would be fine, last night, he promised Bruce could take care of the things – would be back – would fix it.

He’d almost believed him, but for a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

It was odd, seeing him waver – especially because he’d seen for himself how much Bruce cared for him. He’d read the worry in his expressions and the thinly veiled pain as he stitched his successor’s side. Father was back – he’d believed that much – though he didn’t believe it when Richard said it – and that was… a complicated thing.

Suffice to say, he’d kept watch from afar until he heard the doorknob turn, leaving once father began to speak.

An awkward clearing of the throat makes him turn. Father stands in the doorway, looking stern but unsure, finally having decided to make an appearance. It’s irritating, how tall he seems; his head mere inches away from the top of the doorframe. “What?” He can’t keep panic from slipping into his voice. Swallowing, he makes another attempt. “How is Richard?”

Frowning, father shakes his head slightly looking displeased. Damian’s heart sinks to the floor – Richard couldn’t – he promised – he –

“He’s not doing as well as I’d hoped. His blood oxygen level fell last night, I had to put him on an external canister to raise it.” Damian lets out a long breath, his pulse returning to normal as father continued. “He’s stable, Leslie came over an hour ago. She predicts a full recovery, just don’t expect him to bounce back too quickly.” His father paused, giving him a curious look. “You look flush, are you alright?”

Suddenly full of the desire to be alone, he shuts the door. “Yes. One moment.” For a moment he thought – never mind that now. Turning back to his clothes, he kicks off his pajamas, hastily changing. He runs a hand through his hair, breathing steadily – everything is fine.

He can hear his father hesitating, the floorboards groaning as he shifts his weight. “School starts in an hour. I’ll drive you.” It takes all the willpower he can muster not to let a groan escape his lips. School’s awful on the best of days, a miserable prison with miserable teachers not paid enough to put up with his obnoxious rich classmates’ egregious behavior.

“I’m not going.” Richard needs monitoring after all and his father had fulfilled the task last night. For proper care, he needs properly awake caretakers.

“You will go.” The response is firm, but not without minor hesitation – something Richard had taught him to look for – something he could exploit in interrogations – something he could exploit here (for a good cause of course).

His argument must be flawless – rational and logical, nothing else will suffice. Pulling on his socks, crossing the room, he flings the door open, storming into the hall, in a display of righteous fury. “The benefits of my attending school today do not outweigh the benefits Richard would receive if I monitor his progress and allow you sleep in order to be prepared to monitor him tonight. Firstly, I know the material already.” His father makes a noise to interrupt, but he continues unperturbed.

“Secondly, I understand the social benefits are a concern to you. Ask Richard, I have made a friend. His name is Colin and he’s much better than any of the awful children at that school. And I’ve met with Lian and Irey and Jay.” The Titan’s children were annoying, but he wasn’t lying. It was awful, but he’d made it through the ‘playdate’. “Thirdly, as for extracurricular activities, Grayson has provided me with all necessary materials to pursue my interests. And…” He trails off, finding his father’s eyes tired, the bags under them unreasonably puffy. Gesturing vaguely, he pointed back at a mirror in his room. “Just look at yourself, you expect to watch him well like that?” They can debate all they’d like, but if father refuses to sleep much longer, the argument will be decided in his favor.

The eyes shift to the mirror and back, then to him, to the floor, then covered by a hand. His father turns, muttering something he can’t quite hear, but he makes out the words from reading his lips. ‘What the hell has Dick been teaching you?’ A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth – he’s won. Perhaps, with further needling, he’ll be out of school for good, but today, he doesn’t press his luck.

Father drops his hand with a sigh. “Fine. Keep up with your studies.” He takes a few steps back. “You can sit in the room but don’t bother him.” Damian holds back an eye roll, as if he would bother Richard while he’s recuperating. “Call if anything changes, I’ll make breakfast.” Father turns, Damian’s eyes follow, watching him stride down the hall, ducking into the kitchen.

As the kitchen door smoothly thuds shut, he turns back to his room, swallowing down the odd sensation that stirs in the base of his throat. His steps are silent – mindlessly so, as he pads over into the adjacent bathroom to finish his morning routine.

He emerges – the strange feelings sticking with him – he supposes he ought to feel relieved, but dread builds in the pit of his stomach instead at the prospect of seeing Richard.

Father said Richard would be fine. Leslie said Richard would be fine. Richard promised he would be fine.

None of them are liars – but what if they missed something? The thought wracks his mind on an endless loop. The hallway seems to stretch out as he takes a step towards his brother’s room. What if something changes before he gets there? What if the medication doesn’t work – what if it’s a super virus or an antibiotic resistant bacteria? Their enemies could come up with ridiculously effective toxins, pathogens aren’t that much different.

Richard promised. He tries desperately to hold on to that thought, stumbling forward, forcing himself closer to his room. His heart pounds harder the closer he inches, his head joining the party and thudding along in time. He feels like the deer slipping on ice on that dumb movie Richard made him watch; it’s as if his legs have forgotten to function.

He’s nearly there – the hallway spins slightly but it’s just a few more steps – he needs to get control of himself but he can’t breathe. Two more steps. Two more steps and then he can. See Richard.

Halfway through his next step, he trips, falling face first onto the floor, unable to do anything but choke out unsteady breaths, his mind screaming the counts to a breathing exercise learned as a child long ago.

Pathetic. He would have been killed in the League for less. He mastered control of his emotion as a child – this – this is unacceptable! He reaches a hand forward, sheer willpower the only thing keeping him from curling in on himself – he has to keep moving.

His hand connects with a foot, he looks up, finding a flush face with bleary eyes staring back. “Damian?” Richard’s voice is rough and quiet, guilt floods his stomach – Richard shouldn’t be out of bed – he shouldn’t have panicked like this – this is – “Woah, buddy, breathe.” There’s a hand resting on his shoulder, the next time he looks up, Richard sits next to him on the floor, tapping his hand in time to a new count, one he learned here a few months ago.

There’s a million pieces of his mind scattered about the hallway and the longer he sits there breathing, the more pieces settle back into their places. Richard’s verbal count shifts into coughs, but he keeps his hand steady. When he finishes, the tapping’s all that’s left.

Damian shakily pulls himself up on his knees, not quite sure what exactly happened. Richard gives him a small sad smile, his eyes full of sympathy – sympathy that Damian doesn’t want – feels guilty for receiving – sympathy he’s never earned. It’s overwhelming – and something’s wrong with him – because he doesn’t cry – hasn’t cried since he was nine – and he’s nearly eleven and he’s over this.

He can’t cry because everything’s okay – Richard’s arms are open in an invitation, his hand receding from his shoulder, but close enough to hover. He’s fine. Richard is fine. Tired, yes, but his side’s not gushing blood, and his coughs subsided. Damian wipes his eyes on his sleeve, glancing around – ensuring they’re alone – before sliding up against the wall next to Richard, scooting under one of his shoulders. A muscular arm drapes over his shoulders, hand settling back on his shoulder.

He’s warm, a bit uncomfortably so, and his breathing sounds raspy, but as he leans against his brother’s chest, he hears a steady heartbeat and it’s unbelievingly reassuring. The hand on his shoulder is firm, but not tight; he can slip out; he’s not trapped.

Really, he ought to be ashamed, of needing comfort like some sniveling third-grader, but it’s different – coming from Richard – someone he’s seen far too many times on the wrong end of some twisted concoction of fear gas, crying and screaming – needing comforting himself. Fear gas. Maybe this was an after effect – he files away the notion to mull over later – perhaps run a blood test on himself later.

Richard’s grip tightens as he coughs, turning to face away. Damian’s gut drops – Richard was supposed to be on supplemental oxygen. Guilt claws at his insides as he quickly stands, pulling his brother along the best he can. It gives him appreciation for Nightwing’s smaller frame – his brother is way heavier and bulkier than he was a year ago – supporting him takes nearly all his might. “Come on.” He urges, dragging Richard into his room, this times his steps steady and stable.

They’re both out of breath by the time they’ve made it to the bed. Richard plops down, bouncing slightly on mattress, gasping for air. Biting back his guilt, Damian quickly traces the path of the nasal cannula, shoving the nose piece into Richard’s hands. “Here.” He watches the man fumble for a second before settling it place.

He slides down, tucking himself into a tight ball beside the bed, listening as gasps turns to wheezes, wheezes to coughs, coughs to rasps and back again, as Richard learns how to breathe like a normal human being. “Thanks.” He grunts, nudging Damian with his shin.

Damian huffs, he shouldn’t be thanked – he caused this mess! “For what?!” He half-shouts, quickly lowering his voice before he can say more. He needs to stay calm – he’s not supposed to be a disturbance. “It’s my fault you-”

“Damian.” Richard groans in an annoyed way, not an ‘I’m about to hack up another lung’ way. “Thanks for staying in to keep me company. It’s sweet.” Some company he is, forcing his brother out of bed to come pick him up off the floor. “Quit pouting, I’m fine.” The leg nudges him again. A third time when he doesn’t respond. He pushes back. Richard nudges him again. Damian scowls, what’s he supposed to even do in this situation?! “Let’s play Mario Kart or something.” Richard says, as if he’s overheard Damian’s thoughts.

Just as he pauses to mull over the suggestion, the door screeches on its hinges, shaking him out of his musings. “We should get that oiled.” Father mutters, carrying a tray of breakfast foods. He freezes in his tracks at the sight of Damian on the floor. “Everything okay?” Unfreezing, his motions are rigid and forced, his lips pursing into a straight line, brow furrowing, contorting into deep worry lines.

Richard swings his legs back onto the bed. “Just left to use the bathroom, Damian helped me back.” The lie sounds natural, comes far too readily out of his mouth. Damian swallows, staring at the floor as his father ponders whether the statement rings true.

It seems he’s decided to let it slip if he knows. He grunts an acknowledgement, setting the tray aside the bed, passing each a plate. It’s funny – how their dishes are so plain – just pure white, no décor. It struck him as odd when he’d first used them, now no longer odd, but fitting. The bland dish fits right in with Richard’s bland room.

Father leaves as quick as he came, and Damian’s left to reflect on the empty room as he munches on a bagel. He hasn’t spent much time in here, out of respect for privacy, he’s seen it before, but never thought what it would be like to live in it. “Don’t you get bored of looking at the walls?” He mutters, after swallowing a bite. His own walls are cluttered with his possessions; trophies from fallen enemies, keepsakes from his mother, and gifts from his brother (even a friendship bracelet from Brown is tacked to his corkboard). Richard’s are bare, save one faded poster. His eyes linger on the grinning young acrobat, gracefully swinging with his parents in the background.

Richard hums, curiously following his gaze. “Walls are walls, I don’t normally look at them. I just come in here to sleep.” He nods towards the television. “If I’m bored I can watch a show.”

Damian rolls his eyes. “When’s the last time you even turned it on?” He stands, spinning, taking in a full view of the room. “Room color effects your mood.” It’s something Richard used an excuse, to get him to pick a new color for his bedroom when they first moved in. “And potted plants are good for overall wellbeing.” He has a few on his dresser, he even set up an automatic watering system. He could hang some ivy over the balcony. Though… maybe not ivy.

Richard smiles to himself, letting out a little raspy noise that he supposes could be a laugh. “You’re really into it, huh?” Damian feels heat rise to his cheeks, he’s not ‘into’ anything as trivial as room décor. “Go wild, you can order whatever online and have it delivered.”

Damian turns his attention back towards Richard, hastily scoffing as he finishes speaking. “I’m not interested, I just wondered how <em>you</em> of all people could have such a bland room.” A flash of annoyance runs over Richard’s face, lingering long enough for Damian to properly identify it. It’s surprising to say the least; Richard almost never looks that way at him anymore.

Annoyance fades as Richard gazes out past the balcony. “I… lost a lot of stuff in the move.” Damian kicks himself mentally – Richard last lived in New York, but a month ago he overheard him and Drake talk about an old apartment back in Blüdhaven. He’d done some snooping in old casefiles, Richard’s stint there had been quite extended. Extended enough to have his property demolished by a villain even before the entire city was leveled by a nuclear explosion. “Damian.” Richard looks at him, face carefully neutral. “Don’t worry about it, let’s play cards or something.”

Don’t worry about it – how can he not worry about it?! He’d be devastated if he lost the gifts from his mother – some things aren’t replaceable. He gives the room another glance – it’s still empty – but he could fix it slightly. Maybe consult with Drake about the former apartment, if necessary contact – he shudders – the Titans during – he gags – one of their playdates for advice. “Damian are you okay?” Richard looks perplexed.

He shoves his plans back down, first things first, walls and flooring. He turns on the spot, marching out the door. “We’re fixing your room.” He mutters, storming down the hall to grab his laptop.

When he walks back in the room, Richard is staring at him. “What?” He demands, as Richard’s eyes follow him all the way to a chair aside the bed. He’s a bit annoyed at the chair even, it’s from the kitchen, probably dragged in here by his father last night. He adds ‘seating’ to his mental list – if Richard’s ill or injured, it would be nice for Pennyworth or him to be able to sit somewhere.

Richard shuffles back, edging closer and sitting upright against a mountain of pillows. “Nothing. I just thought you weren’t interested.” He cocks an eyebrow as Damian pulls up a paint comparison site.

“I’m not.” He spits. “I don’t want to look at your boring walls anymore.”

Richard laughs again, in his modified way. “Mm. Yup. Sure.”

Damian ignores the comment, already delving into the program, comparing colors against the wall - connecting to the TV to display them, and weighing the pros and cons of each one. Richard watches, providing occasional commentary, rating each color on a scale from one to one hundred. They argue over shades of green, and the correct way to make purple pop – nothing serious, nor work related. Later the room will be full of things, but for now he’s content to let their conversation fill the void.

#bad things happen bingo #batfam #batfamily #batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #absolutely no one requested this so hella self indulgent lmao #oh trying out a new writing style so if it's different that's why #my writing

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rosemary-is-in-pesterquest · 4 years ago

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I am. SO. frustrated. that they keep fucking up davekat. like I just wanna go off. just wanna go the fuck off, man, I didn't even ship them that hard at first but god damn I do now and it's pretty much because the epilogues and HS2 have fucked them up so bad and I know they are better than that. let me just.

okay so originally, davekat is built on themes of mutual defensiveness in response to insecurity. when Dave is first introduced, he portrays himself as a cool guy, and gives us the concept of Strider irony. where a normal person might claim to love something shitty as an ironic joke, or maybe the ironic joke masks sincere enjoyment... Strider irony, according to Dave, has a billion more levels of sincerity and insincerity, to the point where you have no idea what the real intent is. in part, this is due to teen pretentiousness... but in some ways this is a reflection of him genuinely finding his Bro unfathomable, and wanting to protect his own genuine thoughts, opinions, and interests from criticism, without actually coming off as insecure. as time goes by, you can watch him and figure out what is sincere and what isn't... he doesn't actually keep that tight of a lid on things, but that's partially because the game allows him more freedom than he usually has. he at least isn't living in his Bro's shadow anymore. some might extrapolate this to mean that he's experiencing more physical and mental security than usual, while others might just say he's coming into his own via this journey, but the fact of the matter is that he felt the need to hide behind this facade in the first place. and the tricky thing with Dave is that it isn't all fake. it's a weird mixture of who he is, who he wants to be, and what he thinks others will respond well to. his development isn't so much discarding the mask, as it is reconciling what it's made of, and incorporating it into his true self as he matures. he accepts it as a piece of him. it's very subtle, and natural, and true to what growing up is really like. I think this is why so many people like Dave and relate to him so much.

for Karkat, insecurity manifests in the form of being hyper critical of everyone around him. to be honest, this also comes from a deep sense of concern for the people around him, and the fact that his friend group is made of a bunch of loose canons who do destructive shit for fun, and people who are easily dragged into that sort of thing. but the thing that keeps Karkat's hyper critical nature from irritating people too much is that he's also super extra critical of himself. he admits it when he's done something wrong... though admittedly often after it's made people angry at him, and he has a good amount of very sincere apologies that he delivers so that they come off as very sincere and actually work in terms of reconciling with people. Karkat's biggest issue is that criticizing your own internal flaws and actually fixing them are two different things. and while Karkat can identify many problems with himself, he's not always the best at making them go away. it takes him a long time to learn how to change himself, because in order to change yourself, you have to accept the flawed parts of yourself and work with them, rather than just trying to push them out of your sight. this is why his anger at his past and future selves is ultimately unhealthy. it keeps him from truly addressing the fact that his current self is just as subject to those same flaws. for example, if he's talking to a past self and a future self, and his future self is condescending to him, and his past self is naive, then his present self is both of those things to his conversation partners. but he's so repulsed by his own negative attributes that he's not really dealing with them. his saving grace is that everyone can see how hard he's trying, and how worried and scared he is. ultimately, Karkat doesn't want to be the reason for screwing everyone over, and that's more concern for others than anyone ever asked for. it gains Karkat a lot of good will, without him necessarily even realizing what he's doing.

what's excellent about davekat is that they come out the gate fully critical of one another... but neither is willing to back down either. somehow, these two insecure idiots trick each other into defending themselves. and it's brilliant, because they get all their critical bullshit out of the way immediately. they don't fear criticism from one another. they already criticize one another all the time, and it's fine. like, their worst complaints about each other are right out there in the open, and how freeing must that be for a couple of guys who worry about other people's opinions of them so much? Dave has nothing to hide and nothing to prove. Karkat defends his own positive qualities. it's good for them. eventually, they just kind of run out of material... and there's something comforting about knowing that they've said every bad thing they can think of about each other, and none of it was a deal breaker. they're still in each other's business constantly. and that's when they start to learn from each other. see, Karkat is really blunt. he wanders into the thick of things, yelling at people and making mistakes all over the place... and Dave is just more cautious than that. his whole cool guy persona is made to keep that kind of raw emotion from leaking out, and to make every mistake seem like he meant to do that. but Karkat makes mistakes all the time. and apologizes all the time. and he comes out okay. Karkat is sincere. but Karkat is also high strung... and Dave isn't. Dave knows how to chill, and he plans things, and he can sit down with people and calmly talk through a plan. get it in simple terms and hash things out without panicking. Karkat often exhausts himself trying to run around and manage everything, and while it can be kind of endearing to see how much he cares... it's not exactly healthy. Dave has more of a level head, beyond just his cool kid persona, and isn't afraid to make people walk things back and take it from the top. and actually, what Dave and Karkat have in common is that they try really hard for the people around them, and feel great concern for the people they love. when the chips are down, they value similar things. and once they've run out of ineffectual ways to badmouth each other, that's what they have left. probably the thing that bugs them the most about each other is how much they actually have in common in terms of priorities. and while I do think that in their relationship, they'll probably always bicker with each other, that's the core foundation. they're caring people who look out for their group and try to help wherever they can. in essence... they're both knights through and through.

and then HS2 fucks it all up. legit why even confuse anything about their relationship? just let them uncontroversially date, keep it lowkey and tasteful, realize the wonderful potential of their friends razzing them about it a little, and write a better story for them to exist in. god damn. like, seriously, just give them more people to actually care about, because Dave and Karkat feel out of character if they aren't constantly in the lives of a plethora of friends who are important to them. look at them in homestuck. look at everything they do best. of course they wouldn't thrive in HS2, none of the cast even likes each other anymore!! Dave and Karkat were basically instrumental in setting up rosemary, which fits so well with all of their characterization its insane. I just want everyone to periodically go back, and reread homestuck, and remember when these characters were good people.

BASED WENDELL COMING IN WITH THEIR ANALYSIS BETTER THAN WHATEVER THE FUCK THE HS2 WRITERS SHIT OUT

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swan-of-sunrise · 4 years ago

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Ten)

Summary: Din and (Y/N) spend the next couple of weeks trying to repair the Razor Crest themselves, and his close proximity to the beautiful captain begins to stir up complicated feelings for Din.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Ten The Repairs (Previous Chapter)

“Son of a mud-scuffer, Mando!” (Y/N) groaned in pain, making no attempt to get up off the floor of the ship that she’d been knocked down onto. “Ow…you did that on purpose…”

Beneath his helmet, Din rolled his eyes in exasperation; he stood above the captain with his hands resting on his hips as he heaved a sigh. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it? An attacker’s not gonna go easy on you just ‘cause you asked them nicely to.”

Din, (Y/N) and the child had been traveling through space for a little over three weeks; in that time, they’d been slowly but surely working on the repairs that the Mon Calamari hadn’t completed. Neither of them were very knowledgeable mechanics, but they did their best as they worked side-by-side.

Whenever they weren’t doing repairs, they relaxed in the cargo hold; Din would work on cleaning his weapons and entertaining the child while (Y/N) sewed, and they’d usually fall into easy conversation. True to her word, she’d quickly completed a new robe for the child – much to the kid’s delight – before starting on what appeared to be a golden-yellow dress. The captain hadn’t said anything to Din about his impromptu gifts of fabric and sweets, but he could clearly see how much the gesture meant to her; he’d often sit and secretly watch her work, admiring how carefully her hands moved across the delicate material and how her eyes narrowed in concentration. She was happy, and he was proud that he’d been the one to help give that to her.

But whenever they weren’t working or relaxing, they were training; Din hadn’t forgotten his promise to teach his partner how to fight and after their recent adventures, he decided that it would be wise for her to learn sooner rather than later. I’d feel a lot better going to Corvus to confront a Jedi if I knew she’d be safe, he thought to himself one evening as he lay awake in his bunk, remembering how easily she’d been overpowered by the Black Sun operatives and the bandits on Tatooine.

“Okay, okay,” He watched as (Y/N) gritted her teeth and clambered to her feet, her brow covered in perspiration. “Can you repeat what you said one more time before we try again?”

“Of course. More often than not, you’ll go up against attackers who’re bigger than you and maybe even stronger, so you use all that to your advantage; a well-placed kick or punch could easily change the course of a fight, but what really matters is that you act faster than they do.” Moving to stand in front of her, Din gestured for her to raise her fists. “Now, I’m gonna attack you and you’re gonna do whatever you can think of to knock me down. Got it?”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes narrowed and body tensed in preparation, and Din threw his first punch. His partner managed to block it and twist out of the way of his second attack, sucker-punching him hard in his un-armored stomach and hooking her leg around his as he doubled over in surprise; she took advantage of his off-balance by shoving him down, where he landed flat on his back.

Din couldn’t help but grin as the captain let out a celebratory cheer at her success. “I finally did it!”

“Good job, alor’ad…” Deciding to have a little fun with her, he held his arm out towards her; the captain, being the kind-hearted woman that she was, grasped his hand to help him stand and that’s when he acted. He yanked on her arm and brought a foot up to her stomach, flipping her over him and onto her back before quickly maneuvering so that he was straddling her waist and trapping her against the floor of the ship with his hands on her wrists. “…but you should never let your guard down around an enemy.”

Struggling to catch her breath, (Y/N) flashed him a teasing grin. “Mir'sheb. You’ve been waiting to do that since our very first sparring lesson, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Din replied, only then realizing that his joke might not have been the smartest idea; in their current positions, their bodies were flush with one another and being so close to her was only causing his head to spin and his face to warm. In an attempt to save face in front of his partner, he hurriedly continued. “How would you break away from an attacker who has you boxed in like this?”

(Y/N) bit her bottom lip in thought as she considered his question; Maker have mercy on me, he thought to himself, swallowing hard and forcing himself to avert his gaze from the tempting sight. “Well, it seems like the only way to gain the upper hand in this, um…position, is to use the attacker’s weight against them.” Before he could reply, she hooked her right foot around his leg and in one fluid motion, she flipped them over so that she was straddling his torso and he was the one now lying flat on his back. “How was that?”

Din let out a breathless chuckle. “Perfect, alor’ad. You’re coming along great.”

“Well, I guess I have my ex-bounty hunter instructor to thank for that.”

“That mean you’re finally admitting that bounty hunters are better than smugglers?”

Her smirk widened and she shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe better at bragging, but that’s about it.”

As she looked down at him with (Y/E/C) eyes twinkling in amusement, Din realized with a sudden jolt that their innocent flirting was rapidly on its way to becoming something much more complicated; his gloved hands had somehow found their way to her hips while they talked, and one of the captain’s thumbs was resting tantalizingly close to the collar of his undershirt and was only centimeters from touching the bare skin of his neck.

With his heart hammering in his chest, he struggled to find his voice but was mercifully saved by a familiar coo; they both looked over to see the child standing beside them, his brow wrinkled in concern as he stared at them with widened eyes, and (Y/N) laughed. “Aw, it’s okay, little guy, I promise I’m not hurting Mando.” She moved to kneel next to the child and pointed towards Din, who was sitting up and trying not to think about how much he missed their closeness. “See? The only thing that’s bruised is his ego!”

“Just for that, alor’ad, you’re the one who gets to change the kid today.” Smirking at the look of stunned disbelief on (Y/N)’s face, Din got to his feet and made his way over to the ladder. “Have fun!”

Her protests followed him as he climbed the ladder to the cockpit to don his armor. “Oh, come on, Mando, I was only joking! Mando? Mando! Dank farrik…”

Once Din put his armor back on, he and (Y/N) decided to try their hand at some of the more complicated repairs in the cockpit. Their work kept them busy and at opposite ends of the small space, much to Din’s relief; the temptation to touch or even be near the captain like he’d been when they were sparring was overwhelming, but it helped a little to have a complex distraction to focus on.

“Hey Mando, could you hand me those pliers on the control panel?”

Din, who was seated in the pilot’s chair and had been busy testing which switches were still operational, glanced over and nearly fell out of his seat. (Y/N) was standing on the right passenger’s chair, her arms elbow-deep in an exposed panel full of tangled wiring, but that’s not what had stunned him; it was the full, unobstructed view of her trouser-clad hips and legs right in front of him. So much for those complex distractions, he thought with an inward groan, trying and failing to avert his gaze from the appealing sight.

“Mando? The pliers?”

“Right, right,” Giving his head a small shake, he grabbed the pliers and stood, leaning against the wall of the cockpit as he handed the tool to her. “How’re the repairs going up there?”

(Y/N) smiled to herself while she continued rewiring. “Well, we should be able to land safely and avoid plummeting to our deaths now but I’m not making any promises, though. What about you? Did you get the hyperdrive fixed yet?”

“No, not yet. I have to rewire the ship’s circuit board, which just so happens to be four feet behind that tiny opening there.” Din pointed to the opening in question before sighing. “You don’t think you’d be able to reach your arm in there, do you?” The captain shot him an ‘are-you-being-serious’ look, to which he merely shrugged and glanced back at the opening. “I figured I’d ask just in case. Unfortunately, it’s one of those kinds of repairs that a ship can’t function properly without; we just need to find something small to fit…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…I’m beginning to think this might’ve been a bad idea, Mando.”

Din shot (Y/N) a look of disbelief from under his helmet. “But it was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who agreed to it; as my partner, you really should have better sense than to indulge my off-the-cuff ideas,” (Y/N) retorted, crossing her arms as she knelt beside the small opening; she nervously bit her lip as her brow furrowed in worry. “He’s just a baby, after all.”

Although her comment was fair, her words sparked a surge of protectiveness towards the child. “He’s not just a baby, alor’ad, he’s special. He understands a lot more than people realize and with all the crazy power he has, I’m sure he’ll be able to help us rewire a simple circuit board.” Din turned back to the control panels and began flipping switches. “All right, let’s try this again…okay, do you have the wire?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing a faint coo as one of the ship’s alarms began to blare; pressing another button, he shut off the alarm and sighed. “No, nothing.”

He got up from the pilot’s seat and went over to kneel beside (Y/N) as she patiently called out, “Did you get the wire out? The red wire?”

Peering into the opening, Din watched as the child let out a small coo and raised the tiny hand that held the blue wire, and he pointedly ignored the skeptical look the captain threw him. “No, no. No, the red one, show me the red wire. The red one.” The child looked down at the wires in his hands before waving the blue one around, and Din fought the proud smile that was tugging at his lips. “Yes, good. Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes in the board.”

“I think you might’ve confused him…” (Y/N) whispered as they both watched the child tilt his head; she leaned in closer and called out, “Okay, little guy, you’re gonna put the red wire where the blue wire goes in the board. Okay?”

“But don’t let them touch!” Din hastily added, noticing how close the two wires were to one another; the child tilted his head again and let out a confused sort of whimper. “You see where you took the blue one off?” The child held up the blue wire and he nodded. “Yes. Now, put the red one – no, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was, and put the blue one where the red one was.”

With the added hand gestures, Din was confident that the child had understood his instructions but beside him, (Y/N) had resumed nervously biting her lip. “But be careful, little guy. They’re oppositely charged, so keep them away from each other; make sure you hold them apart.”

The child ignored the captain’s warning and while he brought the two wires closer, Din frantically shook his head. “No, don’t let them touch-” He and (Y/N) both jumped when the wires connected and sent an electric shock through the child’s body, briefly surrounding him in bright sparks and smoke; once it dissipated, Din hesitantly asked, “You okay?” The child coughed in response, but he seemed to be uninjured, much to Din’s relief. He glanced over at (Y/N) and met her ‘I-told-you-so’ expression with a sheepish sort of shrug. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

“If you say so, Mando. I’m gonna go prepare some broth for him now.” His partner got to her feet and gave his arm a pat before turning and making her way down to the cargo hold; her touch seemed to send an electric shock through Din, his skin flushing as he once again remembered their earlier closeness, and he let out a shaky breath.

Looking back to the opening, the sight of the child standing at its entrance with widened eyes caused him to smile. “C’mon, kid, let’s get you some lunch for your hard work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din sat beside the child on one of their storage containers and enjoyed some warm broth, since (Y/N) insisted that he needed to eat something as well. Although he’d explained that lifting his helmet to take sips of broth in front of her and the child wouldn’t break his Creed, she insisted on sitting behind him on her makeshift cot and sewing so that he’d have more privacy. Her consideration for his Creed was touching, but after his confrontation with Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians on Trask, he found himself realizing that for the first time in his life, someone else cared more about his Creed than he did. His recent feelings towards his Creed were…complicated, to say the least; if what Bo-Katan said was true, then he’d grown up within a cult of religious zealots who’d coerced him into swearing a Creed than wasn’t truly Mandalorian but on the other hand, the so-called Watch had saved him as a child and raised him after he’d lost his parents, and that was a kindness he couldn’t just ignore.

“You’re kinda quiet over there, Mando.”

Smiling to himself at her unspoken question, Din lifted the bottom of his helmet up and swallowed a sip of broth before answering. “Yeah, just lost in thought. Are you ever gonna tell me what it is you’re making?”

Her laugh carried through the cargo hold, and Din was reminded of how much he enjoyed hearing the sound. “What’s it look like I’m making, a fathier blanket? It’s a dress!”

“Mir'sheb. I know you’re making a dress but I was just wondering…well, why? Dresses aren’t exactly practical in our line of work, alor’ad.”

The captain was quiet for a moment and just as Din silently cursed his bluntness, she replied, “Ever since I was little, I had a dream of settling down on a peaceful planet and opening up my own shop, just like my mother had done. But then the Empire tightened their control of Naboo, she died of illness and I fell into the smuggling life…and suddenly, my dream seemed irrelevant. When the Rebellion finally ended and the New Republic was established, I began thinking about that childhood dream again; the way I see it, if I can create this one thing with only my mother’s sketchbook and the memories of my old trade to guide me, then I’ll know whether or not I’m meant for the life I’d envisioned for myself.” The cargo hold was silent for a moment. “What about you? What kind of future do you imagine for yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Din answered truthfully, the words almost falling out of his mouth as he continued. “Living the life I’ve lead, I…well, a future’s never a guarantee, so I never allowed myself to imagine one. But if I had to, I don’t think I’d want any specific future…just a peaceful one…” He didn’t know what else to say; he couldn’t exactly follow up something heavy like that with a witty comeback, so he merely nodded and glanced down at the child, who was happily drinking the last of his broth. “You want some more broth, kid?” The child tilted his head and held out his empty bowl towards Din, who couldn’t help but smile as he ladled some more broth into it. “There you go.” The child began gulping down his second helping, and Din glanced around the derelict cargo hold with a sigh. “You know, there’s no way we’re making it to Corvus in this shape.”

“I’ll have to agree with you on that. With the hyperdrive broken, it won’t be long before we’re fighting off bandits and bounty hunters.”

“You know, I think we need to visit some friends for repairs,” Din remarked, turning around to meet (Y/N)’s curious expression. “How’d you like to visit Navarro?”

“Navarro, huh? I’ve never been, but it sounds a lot better than floating around in space like a sitting porg.” Setting aside her bundle of fabric, (Y/N) got to her feet and gestured over to the ladder with a tentative smile. “Wanna help me chart our course, Mando? You can tell me about these friends of yours while we work…”

Din nodded and the captain’s smile widened as she began climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. Making sure that the child had everything he needed, Din hurried up into the cockpit after her; maybe a peaceful future wasn’t in the cards for him, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy the brief moments of happiness whenever he could.

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A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Mir’sheb-Smart-ass

Chapter Eleven

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @zukoyonce @itsnottilly

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda

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flautistsandpeonies · 4 years ago

Text

Reformation Part 1

Read the Previous Chapter [Here]

Word Length: 4,877

Summary: A parting from Lotus Pier and a therapeutic stay at the Cloud recesses.

As the morning sun rose steadily in the sky, the sound of cultivators waking from restless sleeps and the flurry of the previous evening filled the spacious halls of Lotus Pier. Disciples dressed in their robes and polished their blades while servants shuffled about the sect with crates of materials for the competition only hours away.

The gates to the pier were open as always; civilians also getting ready for the morning couldn’t help but peak inside the tall, polished wooden doors. The grounds of the sect were overloaded with disciples of some of the minor sects. Because of the events from yesterday, some had changed their minds about competing in the competition, feeling Lotus Pier was not a healthy environment for their juniors and opted to cut their losses and return home.

Most damning however, were the group of Lan sect members preparing to depart with Wei WuXian amongst them.

“Are you sure you want to ride on your sword back to the Cloud Recesses, Young Master Wei? One of us wouldn’t mind carrying you, “Lan XiChen stated while watching the young man unsheathe his sword

“No, no, I can fly just fine, no worries, “Wei WuXian replied, giving him a small smile in return

“We’re just worried about your wounds, “XiChen started but paused, walking over and placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “Don’t...be afraid to ask for help.”

Blinking in surprise, Wei WuXian could only nod slowly in acquiescence.

“The sooner we leave the better. We’ll have Lan Yu look over your wounds, “Lan Qiren spoke while fixing his qiankun bag over his shoulder

“So, you really are leaving, “Wei WuXian, hearing the familiar voice, turned to be faced with a glowering Jiang WanYin

The Jiang sect heir was covered in a cloak of envy and enmity, his eyes were alight, almost electrified with emotion. Dressed in rich robes befitting his station, the cast and sling around Jiang WanYin’s arm was as bright as a dead rat in a pile of jewels.

“Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian frowned

“Father told me I’d be head disciple until you decided to return, “Jiang WanYin sneered, “Guess I’m supposed to pick up your scraps from now on.”

“It’s only for a few months, Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian replied, “I’ll....I’ll be back before you know it.”

The sight of Jiang WanYin near Wei WuXian immediately put every cultivator on the grounds on alert; apprehension filled the air as they noticed that the young cultivator had once again acquired Zidian from his mother.

“I’m supposed to lead this competition now, “Jiang WanYin continued, “Though I suppose if you didn’t start whining about your wounds, you’d still do it before you left, huh? After all, it is your work father is showing off.”

Sighing, Wei WuXian sheathed his sword and walked a bit to Jiang WanYin, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You should be happy Uncle Jiang is giving you this opportunity. If he sees how capable you are, he might let you keep the title of head disciple by the time I get back.”

Slapping his hand away, Jiang WanYin growled, “What’s the use of being head disciple now! Now that everyone thinks your some amazing cultivator and I’m some useless twit. Everyone’s gonna think I’m only head disciple cause father’s pitying me, but I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it!?”

Face flushed red in anger, he truly was the spitting image of his mother. Breathing harshly and glaring down his shixiong, the sect heir twisted the ring on his finger, agitation in his eyes.

Bringing a couple a fingers to his head, Wei WuXian massaged his temples, “Jiang Cheng, just...*sigh* I...should go. I’ll see you in a few months.”

About to turn back to the Lans, Wei WuXian was caught in a harsh grip by his lapels.

“Leave? Leave so you can evade responsibility for the shit-show you created?!, “Jiang WanYin shouted at him

Grabbing his shidi’s wrist, Wei WuXian demanded, “Let me go.”

A few senior disciples of the minor sects made way to step forward, however, none were as close as the Lans, who moved together as one near the ensuing conflict.

“My mother went into seclusion because of you!, “Jiang WanYin screeched, “Have you heard what people are saying about her? They’re calling her a lunatic and a demented woman with authority! Am I just supposed to stand there and take it while her integrity is being slandered? How dare you try abandon responsibility and go off with the Lan Sect, have you no loyalty to YunmengJiang!?”

Lan WangJi stepped in front of Wei WuXian, blocking Jiang WanYin’s assault, “Yu-Furens actions are her own, “He said tersely, “She suffers her own consequences.”

“Suffering her own consequences? She’s being tormented because this snake couldn’t help but show off! But I guess that doesn’t matter to the Lan Sect, now does it? You have that big library filled with who knows what; you probably want this deserter to fill an entire new section, huh?, “Jiang WanYin sneered in Lan WangJi’s face

“Wei Ying may choose to share his knowledge with whomever he wishes. The Lan Sect will endeavor to support his research. He needn’t fear abuse for elevating our collective knowledge of cultivation, “Lan WangJi spoke low and deep

Eyes widening in anger, Zidian cracked against the Jiang heir’s finger. For the slightest moment, the grounds were filled with the thoughts of a Jiang/Lan warfare if Jiang WanYin decided to strike the second heir to the notorious sect.

“Enough!, “Wei WuXian exclaimed, sensing the growing hostility between the two, “Lan Zhan, let’s just go. Please.”

“Mn, “Lan WangJi replied and raised an arm in the direction his clansmen were waiting, “After you.”

Giving a sideways glance at Jiang WanYin, Wei WuXian simply nodded at the man, knowing words would only escalate the situation. Jiang WanYin scoffed at him, doubling back to the inner halls of the sect.

Turning on their heels, Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian rejoined their group and mounted their swords. In seconds, a huddle of white - and one purple - clad disciples were flying through the air.

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

“How often did the Violet Spider whip you, Wei WuXian, “the Lan’s chief doctor, Lan Yu asked while running spiritual energy laced hands down the man’s back

Laying shirtless on an examining table, Wei WuXian said nothing while she examined his injuries, a look of indifference upon his face. Having unbandaged his wounds, his back was still bright in color, draining to a light pink over the many hours.

“I’ll remind you that gossip is forbidden amongst the Lans, Young Master Wei, “Lan Yu stated after there was no reply, “You do not have to concern yourself yourself with Madam Yu’s reputation while in our presence; I simply want to know more about my patient’s history.”

Pursing his lips, Wei WuXian still did not reply.

Giving a low hum, Lan Yu retracted their hands and step to the side to retrieve salve and new bandages.

“I hope that you will come to trust us, Young Master Wei, “Lan Yu replied in a low voice as they started to apply the salve, “We Lans haven’t invited you here simply because of your research.”

“I never said you did, “was the first thing Wei WuXian said the entire time he’d be there

“True, you didn’t, “the doctor unfurled the bandages and started to wrap them tight around his person, “I just hope you don’t think that’s the reason. Had anyone else been in your position, I’m sure our Twin Jades would have helped them all the same.”

“Yeah, that does sound like them, “Wei WuXian cracked his neck and then joked, “I thought there would’ve been rule forbidding interaction with me by now, though.”

Pinning the bandages with a couple of clips, Lan Yu gave Wei WuXian a final once over with their spiritual energy.

“Everything looks to be in working order, “they nodded in satisfaction

“That’s good, “Wei WuXian gave them a wide grin, “Now Lan Zhan can stop giving me that doe-eyed look.”

“Doe-eyed?, “Lan Yu raised a brow

A knock sounded at the door, “Lan Yu, may we enter?, “Lan XiChen’s voice was on the other side

“Yes, of course, “they replied while giving the Jiang cultivator another inquisitive glance

Stepping inside, the older jade nodded at the doctor before turning his smile toward the man on the table. Lan WangJi tentatively stepped into the room, standing side by side with his brother.

“Uncle had to head down to Caiyi to check on the Waterborne Abyss, but he promises to be back later today, “Lan XiChen started, “WangJi and I have a night-hunt to get to, but he wanted to check on Young Master Wei before we left.”

“Aw, Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian said with a teasing lilt in this voice, “I told you I was fine, no need to hold up your night-hunt checking on little old me.”

Lan WangJi blinked at him before looking to Lan Yu, “Is he?”

Wei WuXian rolled his eyes while slipping off the examination table. Walking over to his robes set side and folded neatly by an assistant on a nearby chair, he began to dress.

“Infection has not set in and his meridians are stable, “Lan Yu stated more to the two other Lans than Wei WuXian, “I recommend Young Master Wei take some time out of his schedule to visit the Cold Springs to help accelerate his healing.”

Lan WangJi nodded and gave a bow to the doctor, “I will make him go there as much as possible.”

“Ai-ya, Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian gaped at his words and put his hands on his hips, “You say that like I’m gonna run away or something.”

“Wei Ying declined Lan Yu’s treatment when we got here this morning, “Lan WangJi gave a glare to the other man, “I had to drag you here.”

The doctor turned to raise a concerned brow at him; Wei WuXian blushed and turned his head away.

“Young Master Wei..., “Lan Yu started

“I’m fine, I’m fine. All of you treating me like some porcelain vase, ah,what am I supposed to think, “Wei WuXian waved them away, “Didn’t you say you had a night-hunt? Best get going, hmm?”

“It shouldn’t take long, “Lan XiChen bowed to the doctor in thanks as well, “We should be back after breakfast tomorrow.”

Sliding on his outer robe, WeI WuXian replied, “Then....I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

...

The next day, Wei WuXian found himself in the Hanshi with Lan Xichen, a sea of cultivation notes strewn about the desk and themselves.

“I never thought you’d let me hold Liebeng, Zewu-jun, “Wei WuXian caressed the flute with a curious look on this face

To his side, Lan XiChen was giving the same amount of attention to Wei WuXian’s ChenQing.

“She’s beautiful; did you craft it yourself, “XiChen fiddled with the jade token on its tassel

“Mhmm, took me forever to find the right piece of bamboo, then even longer to purify and etch in blessings, “WuXian smiled twirling Liebeng

“Is there any specific song you want to play?, “WuXian handed the white xiao back to its owner while retrieving his dizi from the first jade’s hand

“We can play anything really, but I’d like to try a few of my clan’s techniques, “XiChen started, “I’m curious if it’s a instrumental difference or a personal difference in the effects of the song.”

“Right, right, so then we could start with Cleansing or Clarity?, “XiChen and WuXian started to shuffle through the mountain of notes they had accumulated

A light knock sounded at the door before a servant came in, “Young Master Wei, you have received some letters.”

“Already?, “the young man raised a brow while rising from the piles of parchments, “Well, thank you for bringing them.”

Taking the satchel from their hands, he shifted through the parcels. Prim folded letters filled the bag.

An uncomfortable frown found its way onto Wei WuXian’s face, “Ah, these people don’t know when to quit.”

Taking a letter from the tote, the official sign of the PingyangYao sect shined back at him.

XiChen had a bemused smiled watching as a cloud of frustration lined Wei WuXian’s brow.

“That seems like a lot to get through; I can help you pen a few replies, “he tried his best not to laugh

“Ah, Zewu-jun is a life saver.”

...

A few days later, Wei WuXian was asked to attend to a class with Lan Qiren. Being awoken at the ridiculous hour of six in the morning, Wei WuXian found himself in a room filled with juniors not unlike his own lectures seven years ago.

Resisting a yawn, he greeted them, “Morning Little Lans.”

“Good morning, Senior Wei, “the white clad disciples bowed in greeting before sitting down in perfect Lan posture, not reacting to his nickname for them

“We still have a few minutes before your Lan-laoshi gets here, “Wei WuXian started, sitting on Lan Qiren’s desk in the front of the classroom, “Before we’re all stuck in here for hours, any questions?”

The younger disciples suddenly piqued up, all rising from their seats, faces a light with curiosity. Being too young to attend the infamous lecture and banquet, they were left in the Cloud Recesses to read the materials. After, they were overwhelmed with gossip and tales from Caiyi town, and now the center of the commotion was right in front of them.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“How are your back wounds, Senior Wei?”

“How many night-hunts did you have to go on to write all those books?”

Surrounding the older man, the disciples hammered on with their questions and didn’t notice Lan Qiren stepping into the room. A notch appeared on the older man’s forehead as he watched the tornado of students in the front of the class.

“How often were you whipped?”

“Do you plan on going back to your sect, or staying here?”

“Enough!, “Lan Qiren’s voice boomed making all of them flinch, “All of you will copy Etiquette fifty times after class.”

Wei WuXian chuckled at the now dejected faces of the students as they returned to their seats, “Ah, Lan-Laoshi, don’t you think that’s a bit much? They were just curious is all.”

“Should I assign you lines for corrupting our youth?, “The man was stern faced, taping his hand with a scroll, scowling at the younger man, “I also don’t think you finished from the last time you were here; shall I re-instate the punishment?”

Face suddenly covered with sweat, Wei WuXian addressed the students, “Now, now, listen to your Lan-laoshi. I’m....gonna go find your second young master. Where might he be? The library? The library. See you Little Lans.”

Striding out of the room, the students were agape as the Jiang cultivator made a quick escape.

“Senior Wei!, “they cried, “Aren’t you supposed to help teach today?”

“Don’t forget your essays tonight!, “Wei WuXian’s voice called from far off

...

A week later, Wei WuXian found himself in a field with Lan WangJi, along with a few hundred guests.

“Ah, do you really have an entire field of rabbits, Lan Zhan?, “Shuffling through the tall grass, the little balls of fluff jumped here and there to avoid the large human man

“Not mine, “Lan WangJi replied, “I only come to feed them everyone once in a while.”

“And to think that you refused the two I gave you..., “Turning with a large grin , Wei WuXian was suddenly awestruck, “Wait...are those?”

Cuddled in Lan WangJi’s arms were two rabbits, one black and one white. The black rabbit happily kicked its feet against Lan WangJi’s arms while crunching on a piece of lettuce. The white one, on the other hand, chewed sedately, nose twitching at it’s companion.

“Wei Ying’s rabbits, “Lan WangJi brought them closer to Wei WuXian

Taking the white rabbit with one hand, Wei WuXian felt his cheeks flaring up and rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, Lan Zhan, you must really like rabbits, hmm?”

“ Xiongzhang brought the rest here; I feed them and play music sometimes, “WangJi said, bending down to sit primly in the grass

The Second Jade of Lan was immediately surrounded from all angles by the army of white fur.

Following suit, Wei WuXian was enamored to watch with his chin in his hands, Lan WangJi feed each and every rabbit their own piece of carrot or lettuce, tapping those trying to steal from others on their small little noses.

Covering his face with his hands, Wei WuXian entire body heated up, ‘Lan Zhan, you really are too cute!, ‘he thought

“Wei Ying?, “Peeking through his eyes, Lan WangJi was staring at him

“Huh, oh nothing, “taking the white rabbit back into his hands, he spoke, “so, what’s your name, hmm.”

The white rabbit didn’t seem to be impressed, eyes solely focused on its companion, watching as it claimed Lan WangJi’s lap as its throne, swatting away any other bunny that tried to join it.

“Eh, it’s ignoring me, “shaking the animal lightly, WuXian snarked, “It’s Lan Zhan in rabbit form!”

“Then Yin (Silver) is Wei Ying, “WangJi replied in a dead pan voice

“Yin?, “scratching the white rabbit behind the ears, WuXian gave WangJi a questioning glance

“Yin, “the Second Jade placed a gentle hand on the black rabbit running down its back, “Very energetic. Very mischievous. Ate one of Xiongzhang ’s letters from Chifeng-zun once.”

Snickering, he brought the white rabbit eye level, “So what’s rabbit Lan Zhan’s real name?”

“Yun (Cloud), “WangJi replied, “Only likes playing with Yin.”

The white rabbit illustrated this by swatting at Wei WuXian’s nose with its paw, almost glaring at him.

“Hmm, you want me to put you down, “WuXian grinned flopping the rabbits ears, “you want your friend? Well you can’t have him!”

Reaching over, Lan WangJi saved the rabbit from Wei WuXian’s grasp and placed it in his lap with it’s companion. Raising his arms once more, he captured Wei WuXian’s hands in his.

Wei WuXian grew quiet, staring down at their hands clasped together.

“Lan Zhan?, “was all he could say

“Wei Ying, “Lan WangJi said intertwining their fingers

Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi were once again staring into one another eyes. Silver and Golden eyes radiated with an untold amount of emotions.

Wei WuXian felt his cheeks heating up once more, "Lan Zhan...you-”

Letting go of his hands, Lan WangJi gently shoved the rabbits to the ground and stood with a flourish, “Lunch is in a few hours, let’s rest your wounds in the Cold Springs until then”

Turning around, Lan WangJi walked out of the field as fast as the Lan rules allowed him. Mouth agape, Wei WuXian could only stand on clumsy feet and hurry after him.

“Eh? Ah! Lan Zhan, what? Wait for me!”

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

Wei-Xiong How are you? Are you okay? I’ve been missing sleep over this whole thing, I can’t get that banquet out of my head. I knew Yu-Furen could be callous, but I didn’t think that she be that cruel. And to think that she’s been doing this to you for years, I’m sick.

I will say that I’m a bit angry at you; why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I’m your friend aren’t I? I care about you and want you to be okay. If you had said something, I would have tried to talk to Da-ge, maybe we could’ve, oh I don’t know....

Da-ge and I plan on coming to visit XiChen-ge in a few weeks. When I get there, I am taking you to Caiyi Town for some Emperors Smile. Wishing you well. --- Nie Huaisang

Nie-Xiong I am well and I admit I missed the beauty of the Cloud Recesses. The Lan Sect is as beautiful as ever, but, as expected, still no one can match up to the Twin Jades.

I do not wish to worry you, Nie-Xiong. I promise that I am fine and this situation is simply blown out of proportion.

You would not believe these Lans. I can’t go anywhere without someone asking me if I need assistance or worrying about my wounds - which are healing nicely and quickly might I add. Even Lan Zhan, our ever present piece of living jade, keeps around me. Not that I mind his company, but he’s never seemed to want to be around me before, always telling me to “get lost”. What am I supposed to do with this new Lan Zhan?

I will say though that the Cloud Recesses is lacking in the other sort of material that you and I enjoy. If you would be so inclined, dear friend, would you send me a package? I promise your discretion will be repaid in full. ---Wei WuXian

...

a-Xian It has only been a few weeks, but I can feel your absence greatly. I miss your smile; it always seemed to brighten my day. I cannot wait for your time in the Cloud Recesses to be over; I’ve bought some rare chilies from the market; I plan on making you a special pot of pork rib and lotus root soup when you get back.

a-Cheng has taken to pushing the shidis like mother; the other day he made them train with weights for six hours straight and then made them run the entire training grounds twenty times. He has been very gloomy ever since you left, and I think this is his way to vent. I think he’s still a bit sad that he can’t practice his sword forms, due to his cast.

Father rarely leaves his office these days other than to eat and sleep. A servant has told me that the minor sect leaders keep hounding him about his lack of action with mother. Sect Leader He even said that our clan was dishonorable for mother’s treatment of you. Father looks so haggard whenever we have dinner together.

And that’s not all. Last week, one of the merchants we normally trade with retracted their contract with us. We will no longer be receiving the amount of talisman paper, inkstones, and supplies that we normally get.

Mother is still in seclusion, but she converses with Madam Jin by letter. I happened upon one; Jin GuangShan is refusing to re-instate my betrothal to ZiXuan again. Due to the banquet, he believes that the Jiang Sect’s reputation would only taint LanlingJin’s; Madam Jin and mother are both enraged. --- Jiang Yanli

Shijie I am healing nicely, so nicely, I will probably end up leaving early. The Cloud Recesses are nice, but making sure my Shijie is happy is even nicer! I do not want you to be sad, and I’m sorry that this situation has stressed you so.

Tell Jiang Cheng that the shidis need positive reinforcement and breaks; otherwise they will strain themselves and possibly harm their cores. Do not tell him I said that.

I myself have been receiving letters from the minor sects. If Uncle Jiang wants, I could take on some of his work load, just send the letters to me here. It is unfortunate that the merchant has decided they no longer wish to work with us, but I’m certain we can find another in time. Since the minor sects are rallying against YunmengJiang it is only profitable to be one of the only merchants not on our payroll.

XianXian cannot wait to taste your extra spicy pork rib and and lotus root soup! I’ll even bring some jars of Emperor’s Smile back for us all to enjoy. There’s a vendor who sells loquats, so I’ll make sure to buy some baskets and pastries when I leave. ---Your Forever Three Year Old XianXian

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

“WuXian, are you sure you’re up for a nighthunt?, “Lan XiChen raised a brow at the grinning man

“Zewu-jun, no offense, but if I don’t get off this mountain tonight, I’m going to scream, “Wei WuXian huffed in bemusement, “I can’t stay cooped up here forever; besides, it’s just some walking corpses, right?”

“Mm, “XiChen replied, “the villagers have barricaded themselves in the northern villages to escape, the southern town has been completely run over.”

Climbing upon their swords, the three cultivators and their entourage sailed through the night sky. The villages were only a couple hours away by sword, so it took no time at all to reach the deserted province.

XiChen took out a map, “Let’s all split up into groups. Lan Bao and I will cover the markets. Lan Ju and Bai An Na will cover the residential area. Gong JingYi and Lan Qing will perimeter the village, and WuXian and WangJi will clear the surrounding forest. Everyone understand? After you finish, head straight to the village center.”

Everyone nodded in in agree and sent off into their teams. Brandishing a Demon Wind Compass, WangJi and WuXian headed off the into the surrounding trees.

The forest was silent except for a few trilling insects and owls. The sound of their feet against the rough ground was like the constant thump of a beating heart.

“Lan Zhan?, “Looking to his side, Wei WuXian had a contemplative look on his face

Lan Wangji hummed in reply.

“We’re friends right?, “Wei WuXian gave a small smile

“Yes, “Lan WangJi replied without hesitation

“Good. That’s good, “WuXian said kicking a stray rock out of his way

The continued walking in silence for a few more minutes.

“I really wanted to be your friend when we were younger, “WuXian said to clear the silence, “I thought that if I could get past that cold exterior of yours, you’d be really fun to play with.”

“We are friends now, “WangJi stated

“Yeah, but we’ve missed so much time together, “WuXian countered, “There’s so much we missed out on! So many places in Yunmeng I wanted to take you to.”

“We can still go, “WangJi said, “After you are healed.”

WuXian let out a small huff, “Ah, Lan Zhan, how smart of you, but I’ll probably be very busy when I go back to the sect.”

“You intend to go back?, “WangJi questioned

“Hmm, of course I do. What other choice do I-”

*SCHREEEEEEECH*

“What was that, “shifting in defensive stances, the two were immediately on edge

*SCHREEEEEEECH* *SCHREEEEEEECH*

Sound blaring out into the night, birds and critters normally sleep at night startled and ran away from the piercing sound. Looking to his companion, WangJi and WuXian nodded at one another and unsheathed their blades.

“I’ll take left, “WuXian said hurriedly while rushing into the trees

The forest returned to its quiet state, but the calm air had long disappeared. The cool wing now felt harsh against his bare skin.

Taking out his compass once more, the needle pointed back towards the village.

“Not working? How’s that possible?, “he mumbled to himself

“Ying, ”a voice called out

“Who’s there, “raising Subian, he glared into the darkness

“Ying, ”it said once more

Throwing up a light talisman, the trees produced elongated shadows, towering around him. The branches were thin and prickly, almost like sharp nails.

“a-Ying~, ”it sang, almost taunting

“Lan Zhan?, “Wei WuXian turned in a circle and called out to his partner, “Lan Zhan, are you there?”

The wind laughed at him, leaves tearing from their branches showered down upon him.

“Who’s there, “ banishing talisman in hand, he gritted his teeth, “Come out right now.”

“Young Master Wei?, “a familiar voice called

“Zewu-jun?, “Wei WuXian said, confusion lining his voice

“Young Master Wei!?, “the voice called again, “Where are you?”

“Zewu-jun?, “Wei WuXian called back, “I’m over here!”

The wind blew harshly once more, branches crackling around him. Another sound shifted from behind him; the bushes rustled violently.

Turning rapidly in defense, Wei WuXian gasped as a black shroud covered his vision.

“!!!”

...

Lan WangJi sat against the wall of the village gate, posture perfect and face looking devoid of any emotion. The only sound he made was the rapid tapping of his fingers against the wall. Not facing his other group mates, his eyes laid perfectly on the surrounding forests of the village, searching.

“I hope Young Master Wei is alright, “Lan Bao said tapping their foot repeatedly against the ground, “it’s only been a couple hours, but what if his back wounds acted up?”

“He has a signal flare on him. If it were truly serious, he would have called for us, “Gong JingYi tried to placate them

“Young Master Gong is right, “Lan Qing agreed, “Besides, the Demon Wind Compass isn’t detecting anything dangerous from the forests.”

Lan Bao sighed and stopped their foot, “That’s why I’m worried. The villagers said the town and surrounding areas had been taken over, but Second Young Master Lan didn’t find anything before he came back.”

The three fell silent once more.

Lan WangJi paused his hand, taking his own compass out of his sleeves. Staring at the unmoving needle, he narrowed his eyes in question.

“Medic!, “the sound of Zewu-jun shouting had everyone’s head turning in alarm

“Xiongzhang?, “Lan WangJi was to his feet quickly, rushing towards his brother’s voice

The others followed, clamoring behind the second jade as he pushed through the tall trees. The came upon a clearing.

Lan Qing gasped, “Zewu-jun! Young Master Wei!”

Lan XiChen was pale faced, one arm slung around Wei WuXian’s waist and the other having slung his right arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t conscious from what they could see, feet dragging on the ground and head lolled forward, but most alarming....

blood was gushing out his neck!

“WuXian’s been injured; we need to leave now!”

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

Author’s Notes:

-The original draft of this entire fic was only four chapters long, you can see how that turned out.

-Yes, I know this chapter is almost 5k words, but you wouldn’t believe it was much longer before I re-wrote it, it was at least 8k in the first draft

-I made WWX a little bit terser with JC cause I feel like if No SSC happened and living with Madam Yu and JC’s shit for even longer would have him treating JC like his resurrected self does quicker. Also, no 22yr old man is gonna baby another 22yr old lol.

-However, I also wanted to show that the Jiang’s abuse and conditioning is still in affect/there with his interactions with others. Hope I did a good job of it.

-I feel like a no SSC Lan WangJi might try to get with Wei WuXian, especially since he’s had time to work over his feeling with no war in the way. And then especially if the man he loved was whipped right in front of him.

Read my Prompts and WIPs [Here]

#wei wuxian #wwx #mdzs #the untamed #grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #grand master of demonic cultivation #gdc #lan wangji #lan xichen #lwj #lxc #lan qiren #lqr

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Lost & Found - 10

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: thanks for waiting! I normally post in the mornings but life happened and this is also a super important chapter (lol, they all are) that I needed to make sure was prepared to launch us into phase 3. (yesss, there are phases!) as always, thanks for reading, and let me know how it went!!

Chapter 10. Blue & Grey

series masterlist

Yuri steps into the back a moment later, coming to lean up against the counter beside me as I struggle to free myself from Taehyung’s gaze. In the span of a single blink, his eyes soften and he’s wearing a pleasant expression as Yuri begins to speak.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important with me?” Yuri urges, looking a little worried yet elated to have such prominent figures in her small bread shop. Namjoon nods hastily, sparing me a glance.

“Yes, thanks for seeing us. We know that this is a little...strange, perhaps. But we wanted to make sure everything was settled before things can get out of hand.”

Of course, my heart begins to race a little more. “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

For all the world, Taehyung looks like he’s ready to answer me, but Namjoon responds before he can get a chance. “Yuri, I’m assuming that you’re aware of Jolie’s, erm...accident.”

“Oh, of course,” she offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything you’re here for.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look before turning back to Yuri and I. Clinging to my apron which I have yet to remove, I pray that they can’t see the slight tremor in my hands. A thought passes through my mind, completely unbidden and foreign. Before I’m able to stop myself, the words dive off my tongue.

“Is...is he alright?”

Taehyung’s gaze snaps to me, brows furrowing as he looks genuinely confused. Namjoon, however, takes in my white knuckles and hunched shoulders, and gently smiles.

Before Namjoon can reassure me, however, Taehyung jumps in. “He’s fine. We’re here to discuss other things, however.”

The way that Namjoon doesn’t say anything to cross Taehyung has me realizing that while he may be the leader, this is a completely different ballgame.

It’s me, Jimin’s disgraced soulmate, against Taehyung, his proclaimed soulmate.

I know a losing game when I see one.

“Right. Yuri, we’ve got to discuss some sensitive information with you today. Would you be willing to sign an NDA?” Namjoon steers us back on course, even as Yuri glances back and forth between Taehyung and I.

“Oh. Y-yes, of course.”

Clapping his hands together, Namjoon dives right in. “Perfect. Well, I would like to discuss a few things with you. Taehyung-”

“Yep.” Without leaving me an opportunity to ask questions, Taehyung is coming to stand before me. “While Namjoon is explaining some things to your boss, we’re going to have a chat.”

Glancing over at Namjoon, who is leading Yuri to one corner of the large room, near the storage area, I receive no mercy. When I turn to look back at Taehyung, I catch him staring down at my thread with a faraway look in his eyes.

Needing to have something to keep me going while I receive what I’m sure is going to be a royal chewing out, I turn to head over to the worktable.

“You talk, I’ll knead.”

✂

I’ve learned something about Taehyung in the past few minutes.

He doesn’t hate me as much as he would like for me to think he does.

It was quiet for a long moment as I sprinkled flour over the worktable and pulled out a slab of dough I had been planning to let some of the other employees use later on in the day. With my heart in my throat, I began to beat it into shape. For about a minute, the only sound in the workroom was the sound of the dough against the table and Namjoon’s hushed conversation with Yuri.

Taehyung sidles next to me, the silence suddenly becoming blaringly loud as he watches my hands. Over and over again, I roll the dough. Once it’s sufficiently loose and pliable, I begin to shape it.

“So this is your job?”

He can’t keep the curious tone out of his voice, and I glance over at him to see his wide eyes flitting between me and the dough. Almost as though he can’t quite believe it.

“What did you think I did?” I ask, not able to refrain from my sarcastic streak. “Buried bodies?”

Just like that, whatever angry storm clouds were lingering in his eyes dissipate and he laughs. Laughs loud enough that both Namjoon and Yuri pause in their conversation before continuing.

“Honestly,” he confesses, “something like that. Yeah.”

I snort, returning to the dough. “Nice.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

“How to bake bread?” I ask, curious at his change in attitude. I see him nod in my peripheral.

“Yeah. I think it looks amazing. Very therapeutic.” He pauses, and I can almost see the thought bubble hovering over his head. “We have a pretty big table at the house, you could probably use it. Or does it have to be a certain material?”

A part of me freezes under the nonchalant mention of the house he shares with my soulmate. The way he’s testing the waters, assessing me for any kind of reaction.

Another thing that I’m learning about Kim Taehyung: he picks up on everything.

“Er...what kind of table is it? Like, is it a countertop or-”

“Oh, yeah. The big one is the kitchen island. It’s a granite countertop I think...Namjoon hyung!”

There’s no need to yell, but he does anyway.

“What?” Namjoon asks, bewildered but used to this kind of behavior.

Taehyung turns back to me, shrugging. “It probably is. Would that work?”

I blink, wondering if it’s ok for me to laugh at what just happened. Shouldering through it, I focus on the dough again. “Yeah, granite’s great for dough.”

Taehyung looks lost in thought, but I’m starting to realize that I should always be on my toes around him. Indeed, he recovers quickly and decides to finally discuss what he came here to talk about.

“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know what really happened,” he states quietly enough that there’s no way Yuri can hear him from across the room. A simple shake of my head is all it takes to confirm what he said. Glancing around the room, he notices the back door.

“I think it might be best if we step out back for a moment.” Taehyung takes a step toward the door before stopping to look back at me where I stand with the dough still in my hands. “Unless you need to finish that first…?”

I shake my head, pushing the dough back into a metal bowl and covering it up with a cloth. Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I follow Taehyung to the back alleyway. The sun is nearing the highest point in the sky, bearing down on us and filling my bones up with a little warmth despite the general chill in the air.

Taehyung makes his way to the opposite wall of the alley, looking around as though checking for spies before facing me. There’s no need for me to question him as to what’s going on, he can see the question clearly in my eyes.

“We have a Muster coming up in less than two days,” he begins, crossing his arms. “Jimin is going to perform on stage for the final song.”

It takes a moment for me to fully understand what that means.

“They’ll see what happened,” Taehyung continues, watching my every movement. “And I think it’ll be all too easy for people to see you and instantly accuse you. Which, they won’t be wrong. But still, it could get ugly.”

I know what he’s implying. Suddenly life will become a burning hell for the scarce few that have a severed thread. Which, by my understanding, is no more than a handful.

Immediately my thoughts go to Christina. “What about those people that have nothing to do with it but could be accused?” It would be devastating for her to think that she’d been the one to bring Jimin so much pain.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side. “You keep surprising me.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “That’s what we’re here for today. In order to protect those people and you, Bighit has to come up with some sort of cover story. Make it really seem like an accident. We just need to keep you out of sight while things get straightened out.”

Dread, cold as ice as just as sharp, sluices through my veins. “No.”

I can tell that this, at least, Taehyung was expecting. “You don’t have a choice-”

“So you want me to hide away forever?” I hiss, rocking back on my heels. “People will find out soon enough. And they’ll rip me to shreds!”

That cold fire from before is back and blazing in Taehyung’s eyes as he listens to my objections. “No! They won’t, that’s the whole point. They’ll understand that it was an accident-”

“Which they’ll immediately want to fix!” I shout, the sound echoing down the alleyway. “You don’t understand, no matter what you tell people, this ends up with me being forced right back where I was before.”

“And where was that?” Taehyung seethes, taking a step forward and making me stumble back. Those hawk-like eyes see how I react, but there’s no pity in them. “How horrible for you to be stuck with someone that would only love you. That would never ask for anything in return. That just wanted - wants still - nothing more than to be linked to you in any way possible.”

The confession falls flat in the face of my fear, however it’s something I know will come back to haunt me later. Instead, I allow my roaring emotions to take over even as I find that my back is now pressed against the wall.

“Of course I want that!” I shout, and Taehyung blinks. “Of course I want him! Did you want me to go to your house and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, and then teach you how to bake bread like some big happy family? Did you want me to tell you all about how the first and last thing I think about every day is Park Jimin and how I know the perfect way to hate myself for cutting this?” Throwing my hand up into the air I bite down the sobs that try to surface. “I sat and watched this thread burn not because I didn’t want him, but because I had to remove myself from his life before I could enter it.”

I can see the objection brewing in Taehyung’s mind, but I stop him.

“Jimin is not the problem,” I sigh out, utterly exhausted. “He became everything to me the second I saw him, but he is everything to everyone. I...I can’t be that. I don’t think I ever can.”

Taehyung’s eyes clear, and he looks down at me with sudden understanding. I want to lash out, writhe under that understanding, but I can’t stop the way his thoughts seemingly click together.

“I- Jolie, you’re not a puzzle that’s missing a piece. You don’t have to suddenly click into a pattern that everyone else has. You’re a human being,” Taehyung says reverently, and I wonder for a moment if someone has said this to him before. “You are allowed to just bake bread for the rest of your life, if you want. Nobody is going to ask you to stand on the stage, not even Jimin.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t keep doing the same thing if I’m with him. I have to be more, somehow.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung admits. “Just because you’re allowed to be comfortable and hide away doesn’t mean you should. It’s tempting, I’ll give you that much.” He shrugs, still looking at me with that new light. “But you’re allowed to learn at your own pace, venture out of your comfort zone when you feel brave enough to do it. Just know this: most people never feel brave enough but do it anyway.”

“Why?”

Holding up his left hand where his deep red thread extends to the ground and through the back door, he smiles softly. “We deem the risk worth it, in the end.”

I’m just processing the fact that I had a screaming match with Taehyung when Namjoon pokes his head out into the alleyway. Both Taehyung and I turn to face him, looking guilty.

“I told you that I’d have to end up explaining everything,” he remarks drily. “Did you two manage to discuss the plan?”

Somehow, as Taehyung and I sheepishly shake our heads, I feel like I’ve made an ally in an enemy.

✂

Jolie (Elle): This is me telling you that I’m still alive, as you requested.

Me: Wow. That bad of a day? Are you going to take a nap?

Jolie (Elle): Literally as soon as I get home. I have to stop by the store and grab some cat food, Elle nearly murdered me in my sleep over it last night.

Me: I can literally feel your exhaustion through the phone.

Me: Was work ok??

Jimin has to wait a little while for a response. He just got a text from Namjoon, notifying him that they were headed to the Bighit building. When he asked him how it went with Jolie, he’d only received a vague answer.

It did nothing to calm his nerves. Especially knowing that Taehyung, even though he’d promised him that he’d stay calm, had gone in there with no shortage of wrath.

Jolie (Elle): Fine

He’d been afraid of that.

Me: 😟

Me: I’m so sorry, sounds like today has officially sucked

Jimin stares down at his phone, waiting for some sort of response.

Jolie (Elle): No need to apologize.

Jolie (Elle): It was my fault anyways.

“No,” Jimin whispers to himself, eyes wide as his fingers fly across the screen. Before he can even think about the message, he sends it. All he wants is to stop this ache in his chest that he’s sure Jolie feels as well.

Me: I wish I was there.

Three little dots appear on his screen, Jolie typing a message, but then they disappear. A moment later, they come back and a message follows.

Jolie (Elle): It’s fine, really. Texting is enough, I really appreciate it

The butterflies that erupt in Jimin’s stomach are enough to make a grown man cry, but he knows deep down that a text is not enough. Bringing his phone to his ear, he listens to the ringing. Taehyung and Namjoon walk through the door of the practice room right as Jimin begins to speak.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order.”

✂

There’s something on my porch.

I noticed the little pop of color as I began up the stairs to my apartment, carrying a grocery bag with catnip and a bar of chocolate, my excuse for a pickmeup. It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized what it was that was waiting for me.

A bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, white and pink hydrangeas are waiting for me. They have a dewy shimmer to them, catching the sunlight just right.

Obviously, this is a mistake.

“Elle, look at these,” I coo as I shoulder open the door. Immediately the white cat appears, sniffing at the bag filled with catnip rather than the flowers. “Nooo, not that. The flowers.”

She doesn’t care about the flowers, apparently. Giving in, I gingerly set the flowers on the counter and get to work setting her food out. Once Elle is feasting away, I turn back to the flowers.

“Now, who were you supposed to be delivered to?” I hum, plucking the small envelope from amidst the arrangement. Taking a generous whiff, I close my eyes as the sweet aroma fills my senses. “Ugh, whoever they are, they’re lucky. These are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Again, Elle proves that she really couldn’t care less about the floral arrangement on the counter. Except to maybe knock it over, perhaps.

Slipping open the envelope, I take in the short message.

Jolie,

Because a text isn’t enough.

-PJM

“PJM?”I breathe out, staring at those initials with wide eyes. My breath comes up short as I reread the card again and again, flipping it over to see if there’s anything else. Some sort of clue.

“Elle, these are for us.”

The only response I get is a lazy swish of her tail, but I’m not paying attention to her anyway. All I’m looking at is that bouquet of flowers that’s meant for me after all.

Ripping my phone out of my back pocket, I open it up to my text conversation with Jaemin. Scrolling through his concerned texts, trying to see if I’m doing alright. With shaking hands, I type out the letters.

Me: PJM?

✂

“She’s not ready to know the truth,” Taehyung reports.

Jimin sits beside him on the couch, arms crossed and looking out the window with a glazed expression. The other members listen to every word that Namjoon and Taehyung are saying, finally getting a full report of the events at the bread shop.

Nevermind the fact that it’s been hours and it’s nearly midnight.

“What? That Jimin’s actually Jaemin?” Jin stretches a little, bumping into Yoongi who hardly notices. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that much of a stretch.”

Taehyung shrugs, glancing over at Jimin who has yet to say anything. “We talked-”

“Screamed,” Namjoon corrects. Jimin perks up at this.

“What were you screaming about?”

Taehyung assesses his friend, deeming him capable of receiving this information. “You. Her own insecurities. Bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook questions, but it goes unanswered.

“Some part of her wants to be with you,” Taehyung explains, completely overlooking Jungkook’s curious expression. “But she’s freaked out. Kind of like how Jungkook mentioned before, when you first started texting. She’s so in her own head that it’s hard for her to see that you wouldn’t demand her to become some sort of celebrity.”

“She thinks that I would?” Jimin asks. He left his phone in his bedroom, deciding to leave Jolie’s simple question, PJM?, until after he’d had a chance to discuss it with everyone. He knew what she was asking. It was a deliberate choice of his to put his initials on the card rather than the fake name.

He couldn’t stomach her thinking that the flowers were from some random Jaemin, when they were in fact from him.

Her soulmate.

“No, not necessarily. She said that she feels like she would have to become something more, though. Purely because you are who you are. And I think that’s something that really scares her.”

It’s also something that Jimin doesn’t know how to fix. “If she’s not willing to get out of her own head, then how am I supposed to help her?”

Namjoon pipes up. “She seemed a lot better, though. I think, whatever she’s doing, she’s getting better. Chung-hei mentioned that she’s seeing a therapist, actually.”

Jimin sits back. “Good. That’s good.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “What did she say about the plan?”

The plan. It wasn’t much of a plan. In reality, it was more of a precaution than anything. They all knew that everything would be a mess after Jimin goes back into the public eye, and Jolie would be at risk by just stepping foot outside her door.

“She agreed to be chauffeured,” Namjoon says. “I mean, obviously she’s not happy about it, but she said she understood.”

Jolie would be picked up in the morning and after her shift by a nondescript car driven by Bighit employees. Anytime she needed groceries, they would pick them up for her. Do anything they can to keep her out of the public eye.

“I’m kind of surprised that she agreed,” Jimin admits. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

There’s a grumble of agreement, and soon after the boys are dispersing. Only one day left until the Muster, tomorrow was going to be busy with final rehearsals and preparations.

Jimin heads up to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the short message from hours earlier.

Jolie (Elle): PJM?

Sighing and ignoring the nerves in his stomach, Jimin just prays that all is not lost.

Me: Yes?

For now, she’s asleep. He doesn’t expect a response anytime soon. Rolling over and facing the wall, Jimin tries his best to close his eyes and let everything roll off his shoulders.

She’s bound to find out sometime.

✂

Jimin’s hands are sweaty as he paces below stage, listening to the roar of the crowd as his brothers perform above him.

The Muster came all too quickly.

Yesterday passed in a blur, consisting of Jimin checking his phone every few minutes only to find it void of any incoming messages. In his heart of hearts, he knew.

She must suspect that her newfound friend is her soulmate in disguise.

It’s with this knowledge that Jimin steps onto the lift, waiting for his brothers to finish their goodbyes before going up for the encore performance.

Looking around him, Jimin watches the staff and stage crew bustling about, preparing for the end of the Muster. Needless to say, his gaze wanders to the countless threads that overlap and lead in every direction. It’s always amazed him, how they never get tangled. How nobody ever trips over them.

Jimin has always marveled at the fact that somehow, somewhere on the other end of those threads is another person. Someone just as busy, just as oblivious to the lifeform attached to them through indescribable means.

Park Jimin has always been told that he would be the best soulmate.

He’s kind, and considerate. Loving and forgiving beyond all comprehension.

It’s something that he has believed is a lie. Every night, even before Jolie cut the very thing that tied them together, he’d lay in bed and stare at that red thread. Wondering what would happen when his soulmate was inevitable disappointed in the fact that their star-studded soulmate was just...him.

Tonight though, as the lift carries him up toward the stage and the beginning cords of “Blue & Grey” begin to play, he begins to believe.

He would be the best soulmate.

Perhaps this is the moment where he proves it. Without hatred, without envy. Without a wounded look in his eyes.

With that conviction humming in his bones, he rises to the stage and walks out under the spotlight.

The arena around him booms with sound as Jimin walks toward where his brothers sit in a semicircle. They gleam with sweat, still breathing heavily after their last performance. As Jimin takes a seat, he looks out into the crowd.

He sees the exact moment they realize what’s missing.

Or rather, hears.

That roar of the crowd, his ARMY so happily welcoming him back to the stage after his long absence, turns to deafening silence.

Into the silence, Jimin sings.

Blue & Grey plays out, Jimin raising the mic to his mouth and singing his parts with a steady voice. He waits for the end, hoping that the CG team in charge of the large screen behind him was able to carry out his request in time.

Taehyung sings the final words, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. And behind Jimin, three letters are traced out across the screen.

PJM.

As soon as the song is finished, the boys get up from their seats and make their way to the lift. They shoot Jimin curious looks as they spot his initials, but he shrugs it off for now. He can only hope that the person it was intended for saw them.

They’ve just made it to the lift when the wailing begins, the crowd having finally broken free of the spell that Blue & Grey wove over them.

“Saranghae Army!” Jimin shouts into the mic, smiling softly. The other members begin to bid them goodbye, reassuring them. They all know it will do little, already a few members of the crowd are inconsolable, but they do it nonetheless.

✂

“Twitter is blowing up right now,” Christina says, scrolling through her feed. I lay on her couch, staring at her television.

I’d come here to see if I sounded like a crazy person for taking Jaemin’s initials so seriously. However, I can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

Naturally, I’ve ignored the problem by not responding to him for a day. I’d say it’s a step up from what I’ve done in the past. At least I’m not cutting him out of my life, right?

“Isn’t it always blowing up over something?” I drawl. When I don’t get a response, I look over to see what the big deal is about.

Christina sits up in her chair, hand thrown over her mouth as her wide eyes stare at her phone.

“What? What happened?”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I...you need to see this.” Screen-sharing with her TV, a stage replaces our episode. “He went public. It’s official.”

Ah, right. I’d also come to give Christina a fair warning about what was about to happen. Jimin going public today was the other thing occupying all of my thoughts, but I didn’t realize just how big it would be until I see the impact he had at the Muster.

Heart racing and stomach churning, I watch as Jimin appears on stage.

“Wow, that’s a statement,” Christina comments. “Doing ‘Blue & Grey’ as his comeback song?” She catches my eye, realizing who she’s speaking to. “Oh. Right.”

As Jimin settles down and Taehyung begins to sing, I find myself utterly entranced by him. He looks calm. Confident.

The world falls silent in what I assume is the moment people begin to notice that there are only six, not seven, red threads up on stage tonight.

Jimin doesn’t falter in the silence. Instead, he fills it with his voice.

“I’d forgotten,” I croak out. The rest of the words won’t come easily, but thankfully Christina understands what I mean.

“Yeah. He has a beautiful voice, doesn’t he?”

Wordlessly, we watch the rest of the performance. I can’t help but notice the fact that the cameras never pan too far so as to not see Jimin. I’m sure that they’re just as shocked as everyone else is.

As the song comes to an end, I find that somehow my eyesight has become blurry. I can’t quite tell what’s on the screen behind the boys even as Christina begins to shout.

“Look! He- he’s confirming it! Look!”

Rubbing madly at my eyes, I get a closer look at what’s on the screen. The second I see it, I stop breathing altogether.

PJM.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“It’s him.”

Christina leans forward as the video ends, looking at me for a moment before laughing. “I mean, are we actually surprised? He didn’t try that hard to hide it, now did he? Park Jaemin, seriously?”

As much as I would love to laugh at this moment, I find that I can’t.

My new friend. The one I would scramble to read whenever I got a notification. The one that constantly checked up on me.

The one obsessed with my cat.

“How?” I breathe out.

Christina doesn’t bother to offer a reply, just watching me as the gears shift in my head. No answers are forthcoming, of course. Just the small sliver of truth that keeps on coming back.

“My soulmate is my friend,” I say. It’s obvious, but it’s important.

Jimin is my friend.

Letting out a sigh, Christina nods. “Yes. Your friend.”

The only other coherent thought that crosses my mind has me getting to my feet and slipping my jacket on over my shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘need to go’?” Christina gets up after me, following me to the door. “Aren’t we hitting a major breakthrough right now? Your estranged soulmate is also your friend. Park Jimin isn’t just some celebrity, he’s your friend. Someone you can trust. I mean, sure, this doesn’t mean you have to barge up to his house and see him. That would be weird anyways, because then the thread would reconnect and only extend a few feet, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. It’s weird, because it’s almost like the thread has a mind of its own, you know? In order to defend itself upon reconnection, it keeps a short distance between the soulmates until it's sure they’re safe-”

“Christina.” I turn around to face her, one hand on the door. “He’s my friend, right? A good friend.”

She nods, looking a little confused. “Yeah, I thought we already established that.”

“Friends deserve an explanation, right?”

Christina blinks, looking a little nervous. “You’re not going to visit him, right? You should take the proper precautions for that, you never know how the bond with react-”

“I’m not going to see him,” I reassure her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Before she can question me further, I’m out the door. Keeping my head down as I head out on the main road and pass a group of teenagers, I overhear their shocked conversation.

“How does that even work, though?”

“I don’t know, but my dad’s cousin nearly had his thread cut-”

“I bet it’s all for publicity,” another remarks. “Don’t know why they need it, though.”

“Why would they cut a thread for publicity? Idiot, it’s probably CG. Maybe they did it to raise awareness or something.”

I don’t get to hear how their conversation ends before a black SUV pulls off to the side of the road and a woman sticks her head out of the window.

“Hey,” she flashes the ID hanging around her neck. I recognize it as a Bighit ID. “Operation Chauffeur is in full effect now. Hop in.”

It’s unsettling how they found me so quickly, but I distinctly remember agreeing to this plan just a couple of days ago. Sliding into the backseat, I ask the driver to take me home.

“Your name is Jolie?” The woman asks, hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

“I’m Sunmi. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

✂

As I finally bid Sunmi goodnight - she’s oddly friendly for a Bighit staff member that’s typically charged with driving BTS around - I stumble into my apartment and head straight toward my room. Elle hasn’t arrived back home yet, probably still out on her nightly jaunt.

Which, apparently included Jimin without me even knowing it.

Flipping the light on to my room, I see that the Seoul City Electric envelope is exactly where I left it.

Sitting down at my desk and finding an empty page in a notebook, I take a deep breath.

Once I exhale, I begin to write.

And write.

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