#and he just opens the window to find red hood outside
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Can I kiss you?
[DP x DC fic]
[Love at first... murder? - part 1]
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Ao3
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“—so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to kill him! It was an accident! He just jumped me out of nowhere and I have had bad experiences with clowns in the past so when I saw it was a clown trying to kidnap me I kinda just panicked and punched him! I swear, dude, I didn’t mean to hit him so hard—“
Jason, much too calmly, likely in some form of shock, rises from the crouched-down position he had been in to check the clown corpse’s pulse.
He had seen the poor, still rambling, twink getting grabbed from a distance and was about to step in as Red Hood, not even having been aware it was the Joker who —shouldn’t he have been in Arkham? There has been no announcement of him breaking out yet— had grabbed the guy until he had run close enough to the scene.
Which was after the guy had already been startled so badly by the Joker trying to kidnap him that he sucker punched the Joker into the wall of the alley so hard the clown died.
Said twink then realized what he had done and that he had a witness, that witness being Red Hood himself, and had started his frenzied speech on how it was an accident and to please don’t take him to jail he’s only just started his scholarship at Gotham U. and he can’t have murder on his track record yet.
Breathless, Jason looks at the nervous twink in front of him, who's still trying to plead his case, and who just obliterated the Joker with a punch.
Before his brain can catch up to his mouth, he’s already cutting the distressed monologuing off.
“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out.
Danny, taken off guard, breaks out of his panicked—oh, Ancients, I just killed someone— stupor and lets out a startled laugh.
“Take me out to dinner first” came the automatic joking reply, Danny still largely in shock of what he did.
Jason, either not picking up on the joking tone or ignoring it, nods seriously, already trying to come up with the best place for a dinner date with the cute twink to thank him for his service to the city.
Danny, who has calmed down slightly by now, glances between the red-helmed vigilante and the clown corpse. His gaze lands on Red Hood and he hesitantly speaks up again.
“So, uh, what happens now? Do I need to go to the station to make a statement orrrr?” He pauses awkwardly.
Jason, who’s still trying to figure out whether the Bat Burger would be a good place for a first date or not, doesn’t reply.
“I’ve got school in the morning and I only have like,” he pauses to check his phone for the time, “3 more hours before I have to be up for my first lesson. Soooo, I’m just gonna go. That cool?”
Again, he waits for a reply. But it doesn’t come.
“Right. Cool cool. Uh, see you later? Mr. Red Hood dude sir?” Danny gives a clumsy and awkward salute before turning tail and speed-walking away.
It’s not until 30 minutes later, once Jason has finally decided on the perfect place to take the guy to dinner to, that he realizes the twink is gone.
Fuck, he forgot to ask for the guy’s name.
…
And number.
#dp x dc#I imagine the next day danny is in his apartment and gets interrupted by a knock#on the window#and he just opens the window to find red hood outside#jason: so u ready for that dinner?#danny: ???!!?!#jason: ive got the entire night planned out for us first we’ll have dinner and then we’ll go to the gotham observatory-#danny: say no more#danny doesnt even question how red hood found out who he was and where he lives and even that he likes space#meanwhile jason spent the entire day trying to find out everything he could about the mysterious twink#he probably got tim or babs to use the cams + facial regcognition and stuff to find out everything he could abt danny#tim/babs: alright so his name’s daniel fenton and he’s been living in gotham for abt a week now cuz he started at GU and-#jason: what’s his favorite color? what are his hobbies? what does his dream date look like? give me something to work with here#dp x dc fic#well less of a fic and more of a one-shot or short prompt#just something I randomly came up with and fleshed out a little in my head during work cuz i was bored#love the idea of jason seeing twink!danny obliterating the joker with a punch and just. falling in love. immediately#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc crossover#dead on main#dead on main ship#petiteposts
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A Week (He Will Take You)
~
Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.
This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.
Anyway
This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,
They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.
They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.
Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.
Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.
In other words they were stuck in Gotham
Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.
Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,
Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.
You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.
Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.
But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.
"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"
This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.
"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"
That was it.
The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.
But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,
Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.
The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty
Like no one had been living in it.
People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.
Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.
~
Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"
Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "
~
Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"
~
Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."
Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."
Bruce: "Hn."
Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"
~
Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"
Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"
~
Just an Idea
#dp x dc#danny phantom#dc x dp#dpxdc#batman#danny fenton#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#prompt fill#story prompt#prompts#writing prompt#dp#ghost#ghosts
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could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep
this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have
Masterlist
Oblivious
Dick Grayson
The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.
Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.
"What are you doing here?"
The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Where is he?"
You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.
"He's grocery shopping."
"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.
Jason Todd
A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.
You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.
"What are you doing in my house?"
The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.
"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."
"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."
Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.
Tim Drake
Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.
After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.
You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.
The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.
In your bathroom.
"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"
"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.
"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."
"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."
"You never told me that," you say.
"It's a recent thing. Sorry."
You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.
Damian Wayne
"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."
Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.
When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.
You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.
Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.
"Oh. Oh."
It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.
It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.
#batfamily x reader#damian wayne x reader#batfam#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#tim drake x reader
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Late Night Bouquet 💐
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader
in which you find your lover at your fire escape, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers.
a/n: if you enjoyed, consider dropping a like or comment! it really makes my day <3
The familiar sound of your fire escape creaking caused you to look up from your work. Your eyes shifted to the clock on your nightstand, the bright red numbers flashing. 04:19, it read. You were relieved. Jason usually came back from patrols a little earlier than tonight. You pushed yourself away from your table, standing up and cricking your neck as you walked to your bedroom where the fire escape was outside your window.
You reached the bedroom and there, on the other side of the glass, was a sight that made your heart skip a beat. In the soft glow of the streetlight, you could see Jason in his Red Hood outfit. The unlocked window swings open as Jason clambered in.
"Hey," he greeted tiredly, his modulated voice sounded like honey to you.
He pressed the release on his helmet and it hissed, allowing Jason to remove it. Jason, his expression a mix of weariness from his late-night patrol, sweeped you in for a kiss.
When you pulled away, you asked. "Why did you come back late tonight? Did something happen?"
His eyes, tired yet filled with adoration, met yours as he presented a bouquet he pulled seemingly out of nowhere to you. The flowers were a vibrant mix of colors, each bloom carefully chosen to match your favourites. You stood there, shell-shocked for a moment, before gently the bouquet from his gloves hands. "Thank you, these are beautiful." You say earnestly, burying your nose into the bouquet to smell the sweet, intoxicating scent.
You set the flowers on the table, making a mental note to put them in a vase later. "Do you need help with your costume? The faster you remove it, the faster you can get some sleep."
Jason gave a tired nod. You got to work immediately, loosening the straps of his leg holsters and slipping them out. You took his brown leather jacket and set it aside. You gently shoved Jason towards your bathroom, and he stumbled in, closing the door. Soon, you could hear the familiar sound of the shower running. You picked up the flowers and walked to your kitchen.
You found a relatively tall glass and filled it with water before putting the flowers in. You placed the 'vase' on the kitchen counter. You hear the door of the bathroom slide open and the sound of Jason's footsteps puttering from your bedroom. You were washing your hands when you felt strong arms encircle your waist and a body considerably larger than yours press against you from behind. Jason nuzzles into your neck, pressing a chaste kiss under your jaw.
Jason's warm embrace sent a shiver of delight through you, the contrast between his tough exterior and this tender moment never ceasing to amaze you. His lips pressed against the nape of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You always know how to make a guy feel welcome," he murmured.
You leaned back into his embrace, enjoying the closeness, the feeling of safety he provided. "Well, it's not every day my vigilante boyfriend shows up at my window with a bouquet of my favorite flowers at four in the morning," you teased, turning around to face him.
Jason chuckled, the weariness in his eyes giving way to a genuine smile. "I just wanted to see you smile." he admitted, his fingers gently tracing your cheek.
Leaning into his warm embrace, you turned your head towards him to give him a kiss. Jason's lips capture your own. His lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was like a sweet, stolen moment, a promise of all the love and tenderness you shared.
The kiss deepened, but there was no rush, just a gentle exploration of each other's lips. His hand cradled your face, his thumb tracing delicate circles on your cheek. Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, where you lightly tangled them in his hair, pulling him closer.
Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, lost in the sensation of his warm, soft lips moving against yours. There was a quiet intimacy to it, a shared secret between two hearts that beat as one.
When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched, and you both took a moment to catch your breath. Jason's eyes opened, revealing a depth of emotion that left you breathless. In that single kiss, you had said more than words ever could, and the love you felt for each other was as clear as the moonlight that bathed the room.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.
"I love you too," you replied, your heart practically overflowing with happiness and comfort.
Later, you and Jason were laying in bed. Jason's head laid on your chest, his face nuzzling into the softness. Your hands were threading though his soft hair, fingernails lightly scratching at his head, causing him to let out a low groan of gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he quietly says, his voice low and sincere.
You smiled, feeling your heart swell with emotion. "You don't have to find out. I'll always be here, waiting for you, no matter how late you come home."
"Promise?" He mumbled into your chest.
"Mhm, I promise. Always and forever," You teased. "And where's my daily quote of the day?" You prod his side, causing him to jolt.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled. "Let me think..." You continued your ministrations on his hair as he thought hard about it.
"I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be," His voice was like a lullaby, lulling you to sleep.
"Was that from Great Expectations? That sounded familiar," You mused. Jason tiredly nodded his head. "Well, go to sleep, baby. I got you." You stroked his cheek as he closed his eyes, feeling safe in your embrace.
As you held each other in the stillness of the early morning, the world outside was seemingly forgotten.
#jason todd x reader#batman#jason todd x you#batboys#red hood x reader#jason todd fluff#drabble#killxz
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Batman Story Idea: Tim as an ""Antagonist""
Now, this doesn't mean Tim is evil, or is even trying to hurt Dick or Bruce.
However, after Jason dies and Tim is helping Buce not absolutely spiral, he gets in his head that Joker needs to die. Not just for revenge, though that is part of it, but because Joker will keep hurting Dick and Bruce. Logically speak, Tim is the next target and who knows what crazy scheme the Joker will have.
So, Tim gets Joker out of jail. The Joker of course is unknowing about who helped him get out, but it wouldn't be the first time (or the last) that some crime boss busted him out to keep Bats busy. More fun for him!
Joker does Joker things and gets sent back to Arkham.
So, Tim busts him out again. And again. And again...
Ok, new plan since the Joker won't actually provoke Batman enough. Tim is going to frame the Joker (really well even). Anytime a kid gets killed? Joker. Abducted? Joker. Someone stalking outside of a school? Eyewitness reports seeing someone in clown make-up.
In retrospect it's really easy to make fake videos and posts of people talking about how they saw the Joker here or there. Maybe people will just believe anything they want to believe.
Tim would even know the little details about the Joker that could make this work. Tim makes a video from the perspective of a random passerby, with a voice clip of the Joker laughing.
Batman would take the bait rather easily. Not only because of Jason's death but because the Joker is free and this is the sort of thing might do to taunt Batman.
So what gets Tim caught? Well, the Joker doesn't find it funny (well, he does, but he doesn't want to admit it). After a while the Joker starts to realize that someone is playing him. Not only that, but Batman says just weird things sometimes. Stalking outside of a school? Those voice clips on the news? Someone is framing him! Damn, he couldn't have been downtown Gotham that day, he was abducting scientist for his next Robin project (killing a Robin was fun, turning a Robin into a son to kill Batman? The laughs will be to die for!).
So, the Joker sets a trap. He starts telling different types of jokes during different heists. Batman gets the dead baby jokes (right out of 2003) cause you know, bats dead baby, but other times he will tell other jokes.
Joker realizes the voice clips on the news are from his dealings with Batman. Surely Batman isn't framing him, no, no, that isn't his style. Besides , Bats doesn't have a sense of humor and the Joker has to admit that this is kind of funny, though amateurish. Perhaps the first boy blunder? Eh, doesn't feel right. There is that newest birdie, but why? He should be thankful to the Joker, the position only opened up because of him! Ugh, maybe giving the Riddler a call is in order...
====
Main Characters: Tim Drake and Joker
Riddler gets a chapter but doesn't want to help the Joker (dude is weird af). He eventually figures out that Robin must be the one framing Joker and just loves that Batman hasn't seemed to figure it out yet.
Batman might kill Joker, a la The Killing Joke style. Joker tells a joke after everything is said and done and Batman breaks his one rule (hey movie batman gets to, a lot). He didn't believe that someone is framing Joker, at least at first, but things didn't add up so maybe he doesn't kill Joker. Idk.
Probably won't have a happiest endings between Bruce, Dick, and Tim. Like, Tim wouldn't be allowed to be a Robin... But Jason/Red Hood thought Tim was amazing, so he takes him under his wing.
If Tim can manipulate Batman into killing Joker, Jason is gonna love Tim. Absolute little brother/10! Though his whole plan to fuck with Batman went out the window, but still, Joker is dead and Tim fucked with Bruce better than he ever would have!
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Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 2
(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)
(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)
(Masterlist)
Word count: 3.3k
Rating: PG-13
Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, Price x Reader if you squint, F! Reader, Injury, Blood/Injury
Warnings: Mentioned gore
The sound of hoofbeats echoes out through the forest as Price urges his steed down the misty trail and into town. The trees spill outwards to reveal the faint lantern light of the village, and as you both approach you see shutters peek open and doors swing wide as your neighbors observe the commotion of your approach.
There's few people in the village square- a small collection of self-appointed guardsmen who startle at the sight of the captain atop his massive, dark mare. One nearly falls backwards, scrambling for his hastily constructed spear even as Price's voice bellows down at them.
"In your homes! NOW!!" He roars, and you're surprised at the speed with which the men comply, quickly dispersing in the direction of their cottages. You see them shout at the villagers who dare to stand in their doorways or at their windows, lantern light illuminating them in the nighttime darkness. They too vanish back into their houses, murmuring and speaking with concerned, rising voices at the tone of Price's booming command.
"Which house is yours?" He asks you then, voice quieter but no less urgent as he tries to control his anxious steed under him.
You point to a house at the end of the way, with ivy crawling up the stone and a red stained door at the front. You try to speak, but words seem to fail you, lips parting and voice choked with clawing fear at the shadow that lurks in your mind.
Massive. A primordial, hulking thing. Yellow eyes glimmering brightly in the darkness, claws glinting in the light of the moon. When it had turned to regard you both it had bristled, the coarse fur standing straight and making the thing look even larger. Even now you imagine yourself caught between its fangs, reaching out an arm in desperation as you're swallowed whole.
Price kicks his horse into a trot, and abruptly stops at the front of your door. He dismounts before you can gather yourself, hands at your waist and lifting you down onto unsteady feet.
"Lock the doors and windows." He tells you, voice gravelly with warning.
You find your voice then, startled and raspy but concerned as his hand guides you at the small of your back to your doorstep.
"W-wait, you're headed back?" You ask him worriedly, even though you already know the answer. "It's dangerous- you'll be in the woods by yourself, what if..."
"I'm a Witcher." Is all Price supplies to you as the heavy lock of your wooden door unlatches and you're guided inside. You spin to face him, eyes wide with a near frantic concern. He fills your doorway, allowing you no space to try and dart outside, the width of his shoulders made wider by the leather pauldrons of his armor.
"B-but-" You try to protest, voice wavering, taking a step towards him.
Price's eyes soften then, just for a moment. it startles you, the sudden warmth of his expression that seems almost like endearment. It's gone before you can feel it touch the confines of your heart, his face settling once more into the steely resolve of a warrior.
"Don't venture out until dawn." He speaks, voice grave with danger, pupils glinting with a darkness that shudders through you. Ominous, deadly.
He reaches for the door and pulls it shut behind him before you can stop him, and even then you dart to the window to see Price pull himself onto his horse and gallop once more into the chasm of forest from which you emerged.
You don't call after him, heart hammering too severely to allow any air to escape from your chest. Instead, you watch the mist curl in his wake, look upwards to the waxing Autumn moon that hangs yellow and heavy in the sky.
The shutters clack shut with a sound of finality.
-----------------
Birdsong.
You blink awake, the dimness of dawn washing over your features as you rouse to the frosted morning. You're wrapped in your blankets, sitting by the hearth that has fizzled into ash during your slumber. The gentle noise of sunrise filters in through the shutters, so different from the chaos of the night before, when Price had thundered into the town square with your form huddled behind his back.
You blink at the memory, trying to pull yourself from sleep and place yourself back into the realm of wakefulness even as the timber of the captain's voice drags you back into the darkness of the night before.
You'd stayed up as long as you could, trying to listen into the woods for any indication of struggle or conflict. Yet the forest had remained eerily silent, offering no answers to your concerned curiosity. Quiet, concealing the secrets within in a way you knew they always would.
When you rise from your chair you realize you'd never changed into your night clothes, your scarlet cape tugged tight around your front as you eventually had lapsed into sleep before the hearth. It flutters to the ground as you stand, and when you pick it up the soft fabric grazes across the pads of your fingers, with you lost in thought.
You hope he's okay.
There's no reason why he shouldn't be, of course. Price told you his battles the night before, of his victories and the tales which Soap and Gaz had boasted of. He's a Witcher. He'll be fine.
Yet then you think of Laswell, of her steely gray stare and her sly but warm smile. Maybe, if Price had gathered his men and rode off into the woods in pursuit- if Laswell had been left all alone in her cottage...
Your hands shake as you hold your cape, and a new anxiety seeps into the cracks of your chest. If...if somehow the monster from last night had eluded the hunters and found Laswell, had somehow hurt her...
Your feet move before you can stop them, and with shaky hands you begin to gather things from your home, creating a bundle with which to bring to Laswell's. A blanket, your journal, a change of clothes. Things you'll need if you're to stay with her as you're determined to. You can't leave her alone in the woods like this, and you think neither can you stand to be alone in your own home with the monster stalking both the woods and your dreams.
You take along provisions too, inside your basket. Bread, honey, apples and the herbs you'd been drying for her. They go in a basket balanced at your hip, and it isn't long before you're ready to venture once more into the forest.
It's light out by the time you part from your cottage- a hand stroking lovingly over the red painted door before you make your way up the path. It's still early, and many of your neighbors have yet to emerge from their houses. Those that do hurry to do their chores and vanish back inside- still startled by the commotion of yesterday. You pass them even as they eye you through the shutters, beyond the fences and doors of their homes. You, the girl with the ruby red cloak, the strange one who spends too much time in the forest listening to the whispers of the trees.
The woods swallow you, the familiar path under your feet quickly fading from the main road and into the less traveled trails that diverge from the realm of civilization. The sounds of the village are quickly silenced by the hills, and soon even the braying of goats is dulled to a subdued, gentle hush that washes over you with aching familiarity. Mist rolls down from the mountains, settling in the valley like a soft shroud, a veil that fogs across your senses.
There's a magic in these woods you are accustomed to. The loneliness the trees offer as they cradle you is strangely sacrosanct, an ancient and almost ethereal atmosphere that settles breathily across your shoulders, whispers a low lullaby in your ears. You've known it all your life, have memorized the gnarled ancient trees which yield the rare, mossy ferns used in poultices. You know the rocky crags from which nettle grows, can smell the damp earth where mushroom caps push up against the soil. The forest offers many treasures to those who dare to look, and those who take only what they need.
There are hunters in these woods as well. You hear them sometimes, the braying of their hounds ever closer until you see them pass in the distance in pursuit of foxes, deer and grouse. They stand in the distance, the hunters, pausing to regard the flash of red that catches against the corner of their gaze before leaving you wordlessly. You are not the prey which they seek.
Now a different hunter stalks this forest, and the mere memory of the monster has you clutch your cloak tighter around your shoulders. Gleaming yellow eyes haunt your thoughts, and it seems not even the cold damp mist can match the frigid horror of your heart. The fog curls around you, and even as you tread the well-worn path under your feet to Kate's cottage, it feels as if these woods are now different, hiding secrets from even you, their beloved child.
The air around you is eerily silent, and not even the calls of owls or birds seems to pierce through the milky haze that swallows up the trail ahead of you. The overcast sky offers little light as you walk forward, footsteps light against the packed earth. Yet Price's words rise unsummoned on your thoughts, his warning of dawn lingering like the smell of his smoky breath.
Again, you wonder if he and the others are alright. You try to assuage your fears with the same words the captain offered you last night, trusting in his skill and experience to navigate the dangers that haunt these woods. Even so, the image of Laswell's cottage- wrecked, ruined, blood seeping across the stone stoop, tempts you with the icy sensation of panic you desperately try to swallow.
So preoccupied are you with your own anxiety that you almost don't notice the strangeness on the trail ahead until your boots scuff against it.
Blood.
You halt dead in your tracks, cold air sucking into your lungs as you gasp loud enough to disturb the silence of the woods around you. Fear instantly claws thick and viscous up your throat, and you force it down in a dry swallow, not moving even as bloodied leaves stain the toe of your boot. Yet it isn't the sight of the blood itself that has terror mount within your chest. It's worse than that.
It's still wet.
Whatever creature, whatever person came through here last missed you only by mere minutes, stumbling off into the mist even as scarlet dripped from their form.
"It's just an animal." You whisper to yourself in a desperate attempt to rid yourself of the idea it could be one of the Witchers, that maybe it's Price, Laswell.
Your eyes trace the smear of the blood, and within several steps you find another ooze of drying red off to the side of the desolate trail, into the trees.
You follow it despite yourself, inhibitions dulled by paranoia. Your boots scuff against the scraggly undergrowth, brittle from the autumn winds. You think to whisper a name, but the silence of the canopy above whispers a warning, a silence you hold close to your chest in a talisman of protection.
There's a smear of blood on the bark of a tree as you pass, as if someone has pressed a scarlet hand there to steady themselves before journeying onwards. You eye it fearfully, and for a moment consider retreating back to the safety of the village. Despite the warnings you continue forwards, picking your way down a slope and towards a rocky outcropping in the distance that murmurs of shelter.
"Hello?" You whisper as you get closer, and there's no response as you hover near the edge of the boulders. A hand balances you as you barely peek around the roundness of the stone, eyes wide and brow furrowed in concern as you raise your voice once more. "Are you hurt?"
There's a noise then, a rustle of movement that nearly has your scrambling up the hill back towards the path. After a moment a voice, muffled and strained, echoes out from the shelter.
"G-go away."
You blink, rising terror now ebbing to a terse confusion that has you hesitate.
It's the grunt of pain that makes you circle around the edge of the outcropping, peer into the mossy hollow in search of whoever has pleaded with you to vanquish yourself.
You can't make sense of the shape at first, broad arms and shoulders obscured by torn, raggedy fabric, bare feet sticking from a jumble of limbs. You trace the figure from the dirty soles of his feet upwards, eyes widening as you realize the pure breadth of the person, the massive stature he has managed to fit into the narrow crevice of shelter.
When your eyes search his face, however, you falter, lips parting as you try to make out his features, only to be met with a dark, draped fabric that obscures all but his wide, panicked eyes.
He stares at you, this stranger, and you see your own panic and confusion mirrored in his gaze, the whites of his eyes revealing his terror.
The hooded man swallows, tries to shuffle himself further into the shadow of the outcrop with a small whimper that doesn't befit his hulking figure.
"Please-" He croaks suddenly, voice strangely boyish for a man his size. "Don't...don't hurt me."
You feel your face fall in dismay at the fear in this stranger's voice- a whimpering terror that instantly has guilt pulse through you for your instinct to flee away from him. When he shifts once more, you note the smear of red against the stone that flows from a jagged, gnarly wound around his leg. Like something had seized him and torn him asunder.
Realization dawns across your features, and at once you recognize the wound for what it must be.
Teeth marks.
The man seems to see your shock and consequent concern, because suddenly his breath hitches and he tries futilely to press himself further away from you.
"Shh, it's alright." You offer softly, extending your hands plaintively. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you."
That seems to catch the stranger's attention, for his eyes lock on yours once more, the fabric of his hood rustling with his unsteady breathing. Yet he doesn't speak, not yet, still too afraid to address you. So, you lower yourself, making yourself small and unthreatening like you would to a wild, injured animal.
"You're hurt." You observe, voice gentle. You don't try to touch his wound, not yet. Instead, you try to keep contact with his eyes, wide and terrified.
"Did...the wolf do this to you?" You ask, voice a breathy murmur, and the man stiffens, entire form going rigid at your query. He doesn't answer, not at first, but after several moments he at last offers a small, hesitant nod in assent.
You swallow, eyes flicking back down the bloodied, mauled mess of the man's leg, his hands coated in scarlet. There's gashes there too, as if he was trying to unhinge the jaws of the beast in a frantic, desperate attempt to free himself. How he managed to escape the wolf is beyond you, but it's evident from the pure terror in his eyes that the victory of the feat is soured by his pain and fear.
"Let me help you." You say then, the words tumbling free before you can stop them. "If you stay out here...the blood...it might be able to track you."
The stranger doesn't respond, continuing to eye you warily, his form coiled tight against the rocks.
"Please." You try again. "I-I can get help, I know a healer, and she knows Witchers, I'm sure they can-"
"Witchers?" The man asks suddenly, voice dipping unexpectedly. You blink at the sudden shift, for all at once his terror seems to turn to disgust, anger, an emotion you're unprepared for.
"Yes." You supply softly, still trying not to startle him. Yet the man only stares at you silently from under his strange hood, offering no response.
"You can't stay here." You try again, and when he doesn't speak you begin to feel frustration rise inside you. "I'll go get help, the wi-"
You make to rise, but all at once the man surges forward, and the sudden motion startles you so much you topple backwards, onto your bottom. A hand shoots forward to catch you, preventing you from skidding further down the slope. You blink just as the stranger's form braces almost over you, his eyes gazing with a wild, frantic concern under the darkness of his hood.
They're green. Like the emerald canopy of the forest in the bright days of summer.
"Don't." He says, voice wavering, his bloodied fingers encircling your wrist and coating it crimson. "Please."
You blink, try to make sense of his words even as warmth rises to your face at just how close he suddenly is.
"I-" He tries, stammering, releasing you and sitting back as he realizes that he's startled you. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
It's your turn to be silent now, regarding him cautiously as your eyes dart to the red smear across your wrist. When you look back at him his eyes seem almost sad at the mark, downcast and guilty.
"I can't." He tries again, then lifts a shaky hand to fist in the fabric of his hood, eyes meeting yours once more. "I'm...disfigured. They might see my face and think...that I'm a monster."
You soften then, brow furrowing in sympathy at his explanation, even as he continues.
"I've been hiding in the woods for a while. I can't get close to the village because I might scare people, they might...." He trails off, but the implication is clear. The villagers, should they see a stranger, one with a face disfigured as he says, would no doubt shun him. Worse yet, you can imagine some of them going as far as to injure the stranger purely for his appearance.
"People will always attack that which they can't understand." You offer, straightening to kneel before him. You smooth a hand across your skirt, place your basket beside you and making sure it doesn't fall. "It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."
You swallow, trying to bury your own fear in the face of your declaration. Despite your trembling grasp, you extend your hands as a request, open palmed and entreating.
"Please, let me see your hands." You tell him, voice clear like the eggshell blue sky on a crisp, fall day.
He doesn't move, not at first, eyeing your hand, a wild creature full of distrust.
"I can help you." You murmur, tone gentle, like trying to coax a fawn from the ferns. It seems to at last pierce the leather hide of him, revealing his loosening shoulders and uncoiling muscles, tender as he extends an oozing hand into yours.
You smile at him then, the first smile you've had since you settled by the warmth of the fire, flanked by Laswell and your newfound friends. It makes his eyes widen, as if he's just seen sunlight stream through an overcast sky.
"What is your name?" You ask, turning his hand over in yours, eyes looking at the broad planes of his palm, where gashes cut sharply across his fate line.
"König." He whispers, voice different now, somehow distant as he observes you.
"My name is König."
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cloud circuit - ls2
Y/n Tiffany has always been a woman just outside of Logan's grasp. But a chance encounter at a bus stop and a new neighbor prove maybe somethings are meant to be. As long as he doesn't figure out her real name.
logan sargeant x business owner!student!reader
warnings/notes: I don't think I have any genuine warnings for this chapter specifically? me once again doing a slightly messy trope bc i live for drama
Logan had never assumed he’d be the guy to fall for someone the way he fell for you. It was happenstance, a complete coincidence, but you both kept running into each other. For two years. At least once a week.
He went on a morning jog? You were at a crosswalk he had to stop at.
He was running out to get groceries last minute? You were buying baking supplies.
He had to go visit Oscar? You were also on the bus he had to take.
He went to the gym? You worked at the joint coffee shop, book store, bakery, florist shop, place next door, Cloud Circuit.
One thing he always found though, was there was always a book nestled in your arm. From Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, to The Silent Patient, to For The Wolf, you always had a book, a black pen, and a highlighter and tabs you color coded to the books cover. It was something so minuscule for him to notice, but when a girl in a busy city like London was constantly curled up in a book—even on the clock, it seemed big.
The first time you spoke to him, outside of ordering him his usual orders—either a matcha latte and breakfast sandwich for the mornings, or a normal latte (sometimes with some extra sweetener) and a pastry for nights, was outside of some department store. He’d dipped in to find a coat his soon to be sister in law was begging anyone to find, and was happy to gloat about having the red jacket tucked securely into his bag, when he spotted you at the bus stop. It was drizzling, and you were tucked neatly under your umbrella, book held open with one hand as you scanned along the words. He noted, however, you were re-reading a fully tabbed book. His gaze must’ve lingered too long because you glanced up and caught his eye, making a flurry of an apology tumble out of his lips while you laughed softly and tucked a bookmark in and shut the book. He watches you tug it against your chest, chafing it to the fabric of your rain coat as you spoke,
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’re following me, Logan.”
Your voice was like honey, smooth and sweet. Your eyes sparkling in the yellow light from the street lamp and a playful smile tugging at the corners of your strawberry chapstick covered lips. He felt an odd pull to you and even with knowing he really needed to get him and get on the sim with the guys…he moved closer to you and lifted his hood against the drizzle. Your eyes flickered down to the Miami Dolphins logo, the hoodie itself an old favorite of his, you assumed from how many times you'd seen it.
“I could say the same to you, miss…” he hums, and before you can go to say your name he grins, “bibliophile.”
“Miss bibliophile?” You echo, eyebrows lifting as a small grin peeks at your mouth, “you make me sound like a criminal.”
“Well, tell me your name and maybe you won’t sound so villainous.” He shrugs as the bus rolls up to a stop. He steps back partly, trying to signal he won’t be following you onto the bus, and you smile as you toss your name over you shoulder with a quick ‘see you soon!’ and tuck into the red bus that’s pulled up. And when he sees you settle in your seat by the window, and reopen the same book you’d had tucked to your chest he takes a moment to read the name on the hot pink cover--Happy Place.
He doesn't see you for a month after that, you're not in any of your usual spots, he can't spot you in any crowds, and he feels a bit dejected. It takes both Alex and Oscar getting on his ass for him to finally admit, yes, okay maybe he has a crush on this girl he's only seen from afar. He knows nothing about her, nothing other than where she works and that she seems to like romance books, he can name every book you've read, every book he's seen you groan and slam shut (and the one time he watched you throw out a Colleen Hoover novel at work) and he can name every time he's seen you and okay, maybe he's a little obsessed but he's in love, damnit.
He's coming back to his apartment when he notices a new mat outside his previously empty neighbors apartment. It's a cute one, a pretty blue color, and as he opens his door and rolls his suitcase in he swears he hears movement in the hall. But he closes his door before he can see anything.
There's mail piled on the floor and he bends to pick it up, some bills he was expecting, spam mail, and then a little handwritten note. He hums, taking the letter in his hand as he drags himself and his bags to his bedroom and drops everything without much care before falling back on his bed. He thumbs the letter open, looking at the pretty handwriting and then read whatever the words say as he tries to not fall asleep.
'Dear neighbor in 221,
Hello! My name is Y/n Tiffany, but you can just call me Tiff! I'm a current uni student and small business co-owner (Circuit Coffee!) who just moved in next door! I'm a double major, Sports Business and Marketing and Advertising and Branding. I have classes at all odd hours of the day, and two cats who like to scream randomly so I'm sorry if me leaving early and coming home late, or Forza or Turi are a bother! If anything ever annoys you, I can make a pretty good matcha latte as an apology.
I would love to get to know my neighbors, so feel free to knock if you hear me inside!
thanks xx
y/n’
It takes Logan two weeks to hear you inside. He's coming back from a race late, letting Oscar crash at his for the night when he hears music from inside your room. As he fumbles for his keys Oscar gawks.
"Someone lives there now?" He asks and Logan nods, opening the door.
"Moved in two weeks ago, names Y/n, I havent had a chance to stop in and talk to her." Oscar nods as he lets his suitcase fall from his hand and slump against the wall with a soft bump. When he sets down his duffle bag, the music next door paused.
“Do you want anything to drink or something?” Logan asks, moving to grab a water as Oscar throws himself down on the couch and calls,
“Please! I think I’m actually dying.” Oscar groans and Logan laughs, tossing a water bottle over purposefully when Oscar not looking—causing a loud groan from the other side of the room. Through the wall, Logan can hear conversations as he kicks Oscar’s legs off the couch and sits down next to him.
“What time do you have to be back tomorrow? I can drive.” Logan leans back on the couch and rolls out his neck, the hours of sitting still on the flight making him sore all over.
“Not until like five, and I can always have Lily get me on her way back from university.” Oscar mumbles into his water bottle before taking a sip, “you don’t need to drive so out of the way.”
Logan goes to say it’s fine before he hears a few knocks at the door, he pauses, praying it’s not the annoying lady across the hall who always is asking him to quiet. Even if he’s silent. He gets up, Oscar leaning back to peek over the back of the couch to see, and neither of them expect to see you.
"Oh! It's you--uhm, shit," You whisper to yourself before snapping and pointing at him, "Logan!"
"Yes! Yeah, hi, hello," He stammers, cheeks bright red, "it's wonderful to finally meet you in a casual way."
"I heard you in here for the first time since moving in so I figured I'd swing by to say hello!" You grin, rocking from foot to foot. Logan looks at you and his throat goes dry, he doesn't know what to say and his face is red. You want to say something to break the silence but he leans forward to pull something off the side of your hoodie. A tab.
"Reading something new?" He hums, sticking the tab to your palm when you hold it up, "Haven't seen you use blue tabs before."
"Blue's the color the company I'm interning for uses," You giggle, but then pause and flicker your eyes up to him, "Wait, how do you know the color of my tabs?"
"You're reading For The Wolf, if I remember right thats a red book." He says softly, then his cheeks flush red when he realizes it is kinda a weird thing to notice, "I-I... you just always have a book on you, I caught on to paying attention to it. Figured I'd read some to give you some sort of real conversation next time I saw you."
"Well, I recommend For The Wolf. The relationship between Red and Eammon is really... sweet but also kinda dark? It's a good read, I can give you my copy with my little annotations..?" You suggest and Logan nods and he rubs his wrist idly.
"I'm not a big reader but I'll read it for you." He grins and you hold up a finger as you disappear into your room, to grab the book and to hide the fact every word he said made your skin bright red and made your heart feel like it was running a marathon. When he turns back to Oscar he gets a confused look, but before he can say anything you've returned to set the book in his hands.
"Enjoy." You whisper, and as he thanks you, your hands snag his arm and use it to elevate up to press a soft kiss on your cheek before you step back. Smiling at him, bright red cheeks in the low light making his stomach swirl, you disappear back into your apartment. Logan shuts the door, presses his back to it and looks at Oscar.
"I think...I think I've just fallen twice as hard." He whispers and Oscar claps, pointing at Logan and calling him down bad from across the room.
Oscar goes to sleep in Logan's bed, being a guest and all, and Logan sprawls out on the couch. He can't help but crack open the book, finding your little key for your tabs in the front, he trails his fingers along your loopy handwriting and grins to himself. The book starts off normal, pretty innocent, but he starts to realize just whats beneath the surface. With a fucked up sleep schedule to help, he ends up making it about halfway through the book before sleep finally takes him.
And when he wakes up, Oscar's making breakfast and teasing him about staying up too late to finish the book. And truth be told, Logan hated reading, but when it came to you he found he was willing to try. And he found even when Oscar poked fun at him, it didn't feel malicious, it made a warmth in his chest spread. Not that he knew why just yet, other than his silly little crush he'd never felt that jittery feeling.
Maybe it was really love?
Two days later he sees you when you're at work. It's right before the store closes and you're softly playing music as you scrub down the counters. Sunday shifts mean deep cleaning, and so you're stuck a bit later than usual.
"Hope it's not too late, Tiff." Logan says as the bell above him dings to signal he's shut the door. You turn down the music to a low hum as you turn to Logan with a bright grin.
"No, not at all. Still an hour on the clock." You move to make him his drinks as he pulls up a bar chair and sits down, digging in his bag to set down the book on the counter. You peek over and hum,
"How far in are you?" You ask and he can tell you expect him to only be a few chapters in when he says,
"Oh, I'm done."
You whip around, nearly spilling his latte on the counter and gawking at him, "after two days? I thought you said you weren't a reader!"
"I'm not, but your little annotations were so interesting I just kept going." He slides the book to you and notices you have a very similar one perched behind the counter, "Made it a bit easier to read, honestly--is that the same one?"
"The sequel, I actually just finished it." You take For The Wolf and replace it on the counter with For The Throne, "If you want another book to read. I need to know what you thought of Nevarah."
"She was kinda annoying."
"Right!" You groan and he laughs as you stir up his latte and hand it over before pulling out one of the last pastries in the container. It's some cinnamon thing, not that he really cares. It's probably not in his food plan either, but he doesn't care about that. He'd abandon all his rules if it meant he could be spending time with you. As you rant about how you didn't like her in the first book, but kinda did in the second, he leans forward to take in ever word that drips from your lips and you find that he's welcome company for your closing shift.
You're finished early, too, so you sit next to him on the only two stools you haven't lifted up. You'll mop tomorrow, you tell yourself as Logan recounts his reactions to Eammon and Red's connection and you blush when you tell him about one of their scenes you particularly enjoyed.
Which he matches your energy with by saying, "It didn't even say anything explicit and I was like--damn!"
Logan helps you lock up, since the coffee shop is open the latest all you have to do is lock the front door with the alarm system and your keys. He walks you home and bids goodbye in the doorway with For The Throne tucked in his arm and your instagram handle and phone number written on the back of his hand.
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Hello! If you still got slots for requests, may I ask for some soft vore with Earthspark Bumblebee? Hope that’s okay!
It is absolutely okay anon! Earthspark Bumblebee...whatta guy. Personally, he's one of my favorite Bee incarnations, so I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for the request! Feedback is always appreciated! :D
I wanted to make the reader androgynous when it comes to the environment Earthspark takes place in for the sake of all of you who are imagining yourselves into the story. Just assume you live on the Malto property alongside Bumblebee to help train the Terrans and kids if you wish.
Warmth In Raindrops
Pairing: Earthspark Bumblebee x Human Reader
Warning: This story contains soft vore. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, then please do not read this story.
Word Count: 1661
You can’t sleep.
The thunder outside keeps you awake. With every crashing boom, you feel like there are a million trash cans toppling over outside, ringing painfully and causing your eardrums to ache. You shiver, drawing the covers over your head, your body curled up into a ball as you shrink back against your mattress. Lightning flashes through the window blinds. You feel like you are trapped within a haunted mansion despite being in your own bedroom.
You can’t sleep like this, and if the storm continues at this ferocity, you won’t be earning a wink all night.
More thunder. A whimper escapes your lips, and you squeeze your eyelids shut so tightly they hurt. You can feel the fatigue weighing you down, all the way from your bones to your brain. It’s quite pathetic to find yourself in this state. Childhood is long behind you; thunder is not something you should fear anymore. Yet, you’ve never managed to get over that instinctive dislike for loud sounds. And so here you are, with no way to escape the anger from the skies above, forced to tremble before their booming might.
You don’t want to be alone.
Slowly, you sit up and push the covers off of you. Each careful step you take through the house is illuminated by the lightning and shaken by the heavy drumming of raindrops. You have to dress yourself for the weather before you go outside. Your coat and boots do little to ward off the deluge, and as soon as you walk out the front door, you are soaked. Anxiety is quickly overcome by frustration. You run for the large red barn that sits a little ways off from the house, mud and water splashing in your wake as you keep your hood over your head. The comforting farm scents of hay and horse bring peace to your agonized mind when you slip through the doors and into the darkness.
There are no animals, not right now. In the far corner of the barn, you see a hulking mass spread out on its back. It is big; bigger than anything else in the barn, the giant robot who is currently taking up residence here is fast asleep. You peel off your coat and boots, throwing them to the side before tiptoeing over to the black-and-yellow mech. Bumblebee is huge, even when he is laying down like this, but you feel no fear when you approach the recharging bot. He’s proven himself time and time again that he would never hurt you.
“Bee,” you hiss.
Bumblebee snores.
You sigh. “Bee.” You shake his arm lightly. “Bee, wake up.”
He snorts and sits up sharply, optics flickering open with a start. “Huh? Wha…?” His gaze lands on you. “Oh. Y/N. What-what time is it?”
“It’s midnight,” you reply.
“Midnight?” He stretches his arms over his head and yawns like a big cat, large incisors on full display while blue light momentarily radiates from his mouth. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
You look down at your feet and shrug, mumbling out a halfhearted answer that doesn’t form into proper words. He takes the sight of you in and softens.
“Can’t sleep?” he whispers.
You shake your head and hug yourself tightly. Bumblebee smiles sympathetically and rolls onto his side, opening his arms wide. “Come here.”
You don’t need any more convincing. He laughs softly when you practically fling yourself into him. He curls himself around you, hugging you tight to his chassis. “Clingy tonight, aren’t we?”
“Mm, shut up.” You slap him lightly. He laughs and coos, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Cute little one,” he murmurs.
More thunder causes you to stiffen. He notices and chuffs questioningly. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
You tilt your head up to look at him. The glow of his optics is calm, his expression one of soft concern. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, a grown adult, to admit the answer, but the look he’s giving you silently implores you to trust him. You can tell him anything. He won’t judge.
“The thunder,” you reply.
Bumblebee blinks. “Is it scaring you?”
You bite your bottom lip and nod, lowering your head to sheepishly hide your reddening cheeks in your arms. The mech’s voice drops to a whisper. “Hey.” He dips his index digit under your chin and tips your head back up to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I get it, I do.” He rubs his thumb up and down your thigh in a soothing manner and speaks with a honey-sweet tone. “Do you want to go inside?”
You perk up a little. “You-you mean it?”
“I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t,” he chuckles. “I know how sensitive your ears are to loud noises, and even though I can be quite…noisy…” He presses his servo over his midsection, and you can hear an eager growl echo up from beneath his plating. “I know you would rather listen to me than the thunder. So c’mon.” He opens his intake, casting you in the cyan glow of his biolights. “You want in?”
You hesitate, casting an uneasy look into the massive robotic mouth that’s so, so close to you. Warm air that carries the slight scent of gasoline wafts around you, beckoning you forward with hypnotic warmth. You’ve never allowed yourself to be…eaten by a Cybertronian before. You are aware of their capabilities, of how they can swallow a human down into their tank. You wouldn’t be digested. You’d be…warm…
Bumblebee senses your nervousness and tries to soothe you with low purrs. He bumps his nose against you again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmurs. “You’ll be safe. I promise, I’ll always keep you safe.”
You inhale shakily. Warmth. Safety. You’ll take both over the thunder. So you sit up and reach your arms forward to carefully press your hands against his tongue.
It’s soft, squishy. It doesn’t have a fleshy feeling to it, but rather its texture is like silicone, allowing you to sink into it with little resistance. Bumblebee looks down at you with a twinkle in his eye. Slowly, he shifts your hands to the side by curling his tongue up to taste them. The sensation of it rolling underneath your palms causes you to giggle. “T-That tickles.”
“Does it? Sorry. You just…you taste really good.”
“I…I do?”
“Yes.” He presses his tongue up against your palms with more force. “I can definitely see myself craving you.”
You giggle again. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.”
“Ehh, maybe both.” He laughs. “But I’d prefer the former over the latter.”
He nudges you forward. You comply and allow him to guide you into his mouth. Climbing over giant teeth, you flop forward, biolight washing over you as you peer down his throat. He lifts his tongue to slide you further in. He’s patient with this; there’s no hunger in the way he draws you in, no sense of urgency or possessiveness. He lets you go at your own pace, and only when you are completely inside does he close his mouth. The sound of the thunder is barely audible now. You nestle in and close your eyes, soaking in the heat, content to remain like this for the rest of the night.
Bumblebee hums. His tongue rises only a little, and you inch closer to his throat. Though he doesn’t gulp you down, from the way saliva is practically dripping from every surface of his mouth right now, you can tell he desperately wishes to swallow you. Not wanting to torture him any longer, you give him the all clear. “It’s okay, Bee. I’m ready.”
Another hum is what you get for a response. He gives one last little lick to your face before he swallows.
It’s a slow journey down. You close your eyes and let his esophagus carry you further into his body. All around you is the sound of his purrs. When you finally do slip into his fuel tank and sink into the thick, squishy cables that close in to hug you close, you feel such an intense level of comfort that it makes you want to beg him to keep you in here forever.
“Y/N?” Bumblebee whispers for you. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
“Mm.” You make a soft, relaxed noise. “M’ okay, Bee. I can hear you.”
“Is it alright in there?” he asks. “Are you warm? Can you see?”
“Bee, trust me, I’m fine. I’m very warm and I feel very happy.” You lay flat on your back and stare up at the tank’s “ceiling.” All around you, his biolights shine. It’s like a light show that feels so good to look at. “I don’t know why we haven’t done this before.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to do it,” he says. “I haven’t done this with a human in…oh gosh, I want to say years, but it's probably been a decade.” The tank walls squeeze you in one big bear hug…or, bot hug, you think humorously to yourself. “But I’m glad I could do it again with you.”
You smile and close your eyes. “You are such a sap.”
“What can I say?” He squeezes you again. “I’m always a sap for you, little one.”
You murmur incomprehensible noises and turn onto your stomach, squirming with a flustered feeling rising within you as your cheeks turn red. Bumblebee coos and cuddles you, wrapping his arms around his midsection to hold you tightly within. You say nothing else, and yet, you know you don’t have to. He understands. He always does.
There is no thunder here. Only gurgles and purrs and his sparkbeat. You find yourself slipping off into sleep before you know it. Your rest is deep and undisturbed. It’s safe here. You are safe here. With him surrounding you, protecting you, there is no reason to remain awake.
#gator writes#transformers earthspark#transformers#tf earthspark#earthspark bumblebee#tfe bumblebee#bumblebee x reader#reader insert#transformers x human reader#transformers x reader#transformers g/t#soft vore#safe vore#maccadam
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𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢.
PAIRING: drunk!warrengraham x gn!reader
WARNINGS: none
GENRE: fluff
SONG INSPIRATION: can we dance by the vamps
WORD COUNT: 639
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you wish you didn't have such a big soft spot for him.
this is how warren had you sat in your car outside of nathan prescott's house party, as soon as you heard his slurred speech over the phone you straightened up in your bed, pausing the show you had previously been watching.
the call didn't last long after you heard his initial question, to come and pick him up. with that you were already slipping out of your bed into your slippers, grabbing your keys as you headed for your car.
your thumbs tapped against your steering wheel to the quiet music that filled the car. waiting for warren's dumbass to get in so you could finally leave.
the whole front garden was littered with abandoned red solo cups, rubbing your clammy hands against your silk pyjamas not bothering to change before you left, it wasn't like you were getting out anyways.
finally, seeing him drunkenly stumble out of the front door before greeting other people, them giving him a firm slap on the back making him stumble forward with a laugh.
sighing in relief just knowing that he was okay made you feel better. as soon as he opened the door you could smell the stench of vodka, it getting stronger as he slipped into your passenger seat.
"heeeyyyy," reaching over the console and pulling you into a hug, your face pressed into his neck. even with the overwhelming smell of alcohol with you this close you could smell him.
"okay, okay let's get you home, loser." you announced as you went to move away, but his arms just tightened 'round your waist bringing himself even closer to you.
"nooo i'm so comfy here!" the small action making your cheeks feel hot.
"hm well that's too bad, i was gonna promise cuddles at the dorm when we get back, but i guess you don't want that. no?" you sighed dramatically.
you didn't think that someone could move as fast as he did until he jumped away from you, him accidentally bumping his head into the window making him whine and rub where he was hit.
"oh my god, let's get you back before you decide to find another way to accidentally injure yourself."
"one more step! yep. there you goo!" you whispered shout.
gently pushing warren onto his bed then going to grab him some water, "help i can't get my shoe off!" you hear him call from the other side of the room.
you rushed over to his side to help, not wanting to risk him waking up the remainder of people who were actually still in their dorms. placing the glass of water on his nightstand.
"you gotta be quiet, i'm not supposed to be in here remember dude!"
"don't call me dude," he pouted, as you finally got his shoe off his foot.
"sorry, bro." you laughed as he groaned.
his complaints soon quietened down once you crawled up his bed, sliding under the covers beside him.
"hi,"
"hi," you giggled at the look on his face, it being between looking tired and drunk.
"you're so pretty."
the three words replayed loudly in your mind, staying quiet trying to remind yourself that he's just under the influence. that he doesn't really mean it, but you couldn't quite believe that with the way he was looking at you right now.
hooded eyes, flushed cheeks, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. a nervous habit you had picked up over the past couple of years.
when he received no response he looked down, but back up again when he felt you brush the hair that fell infront of his eyes out of the way.
"you're pretty too."
it didn't take the two of you long to fall asleep with you wrapped up in each others arms.
short one but justice for warren fics!! more to come soon :)
#warren graham#warren graham x reader#warren graham oneshots#warren graham imagines#warren graham fanfics#life is strange#life is strange x reader#life is strange oneshots#life is strange imagines#life is strange fanfics#x reader#oneshots#imagines#fanfics#ruewrote
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Snow: Jason Todd x reader
Christmas bingo day 20: snow
No one was truly expecting a white Christmas that year.
It was rather wise to not get ones hope up because the weather forecast on every channel were only predicting rain instead of snow.
But-
There's this saying that Christmas is a time of miracles.
The first flake was almost shy, landing on the windowsill of their apartment. Quiet and curious almost as if it was trying to take a peak of what was happening inside and stirring Jason awake when he opened his eyes the most amazing and magical view came to his eyes.
Dozens and dozens of little pieces of snow falling from the sky turning the dark, gloomy landscape of polluted and crowded city into a real winter wonderland.
Jason smiled to himself observing it for a moment enjoying the moment of peace and quiet. A luxury he didn't get to indulge in very often. But just for now everything was good in the world. Just for a moment he wasn't a vigilante but travelled back in time to happier times, to his childhood at the Wayne manor. He was a boy playing outside the walls of his house with Alfred, laughing and just having fun, being carefree and content.
No Batman, no robin, no villains and vigilantes.
Just a boy and his grandad making a snowman and warming up in the kitchen with a cup of hot tea each.
This memory was so vivid that Jason could almost see that little 12 year old rascal waving at him in a funny gesture trying to tell him to not be so serious.
And it made him sigh in reverie shifting position to get a bit more comfortable and able to observe the weather.
"Hmmm...." A groggy, half asleep voice came from the right side of the bed.
Y/n.
His y/n.
His anchor in the world full of awfulness and coldness.
His Ariadne leading him back to himself when he was getting lost in the twisted paths separating Jason Todd from Red Hood.
His saviour. His light in the darkness.
His voice of reason.
He sighed again, but this time for different reasons.
This woman. This wonderful woman sleeping so peacefully next to him, due to some miracle feeling safe in his presence.
She would never fully comprehend how much she meant to him.
How she saved him from himself.
Staying despite all the blood, pain, hurt and worries.
'what time is it--?" She muttered rolling on her side rubbing her eyes in that cute manner she had since teenage years. The lightness coming from the window made her squint but her gaze immediately moved back to Jason's face and all that loving and caring she saw in his eyes sped her heartbeat immediately. "Hi..."
"Hey pretty girl." Second later she was being hugged and held close to his chest learning that his heart was beating equally hard and fast "missed you." Jason couldn't help nuzzling into her hair breathing the sweet scent of her shampoo. Of her.
"We literally slept together."
"Even worse!" Jason laughed "I spend the night with the most amazing woman to walk the earth and cannot remember it!"
"It was just a couple hours -'
"Too long." He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers welcoming that familiar tingling that always came with her closeness.
"What time -" she tries again but he only repeated the action. To hell with the time.
"Too early babe. You're not going anywhere -"
"Are you keeping me captive now?" She teased raising an eyebrow
"Can't see you actively fighting love-"
Smirk.
A seductive brush of his hand on her leg moving up, up, up...
Such a nice prelude to a very nice morning...
"Daddy! Mummy!"
Such a lost opportunity.
"It's snowing! It's snowing!" Their little 5 year old daughter rushed into their bedroom not realising that she interrupted something very personal, jumping on the bed and pressing her little hand and her cute tiny nose to the window admiring the white landscape. "Do you think Santa will find a way to us with all that?" A slight frown appeared on her pretty face and both Jason and y/n laughed at the confusion.
"You're so thoughtful aren't you little one?" Y/n opened her arms inviting her daughter for some morning cuddles.
"I just want presents..."
"Aren't you just like your father..."
"Hey! I'm here!" Jason hissed playfully before grabbing his child and retrieving it from y/n, starting rolling in the bed and tickling both of his girls at the same time. "You'll get your gifts kiddo no worries. Santa got his ways. But before that..." He layed d/n on his chest "were gonna get the sleight and have some fun outside, how does that sound ?"
"Yay!" D/n jumped in excitement and hugged him closely "love ya daddy!"
"Did you hear that y/n?" Jason smirked and looked at the older girl "you got competition"
"I'm not giving you up that easily!" Y/n snuggled into his side "but maybe can share"
Jason wanted to say it.
To tell them both how much he loved them and that he was never letting them go.
But the lump in his throat made it impossible.
Or maybe it was because of that 12 year old looking at him, and feeling proud of what he achieved.
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd x y/n#red hood x y/n#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfiction#jason todd fluff#red hood fluff#christmas bingo
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title: A Whisper from the Forest
pairing: lumberjack!Jihoon x dryad(tree nymph)!reader
genre: fantasy/magical realism, romance/fluff, smut, angst
warnings: slight angst, smut, penetration, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, body worship
synopsis: When two lonely hearts meet, even under the strangest of circumstances, they bond with each other in a unique way. And as the weather grows cold, and as we seek warmth in the form of another’s embrace, we tend to seek those bonds out with more desperation. So when Jihoon - a solitary lumberjack living on the outskirts of a small town - finds himself enthralled with a fairytale creature of the forest, he doesn’t hesitate to let himself be held and loved. And who are you to deny him that love when it is all you want as well?
wordcount: 11k
tagging: @gyuwoncheol, @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag
a/n: this is a collab with @svthub ! see the Fall-ing For You Collab here!! this will also be the last thing i post before i go on my indefinite hiatus!
join my taglist
MDNI
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Take a moment. Breathe in the cold air, smell the trees and the wet moss. Put your hand in the icy water of the river, and feel it thread through your fingers - trying to pull you with the stream. Take a moment, and clear your head. Whisper out a silent prayer for good luck for the rest of the day. Jihoon always takes everything day by day. Each morning is the same, but he would never think to do it differently. He stands up from where he was crouching by the river, looking up to the tops of the pine trees surrounding him. They seem to reach an abnormal length from where he was standing, but he knows better than to not let his mind be tricked by a single perspective. The sky was still tinted pink and orange from the sunrise. Waking up in the early hours of the morning was worth it for these small moments.
The barking coming from his family’s old cabin signals that Duke is ready for breakfast. An involuntary smile spread across his lips as he trudged towards the house. Without having to look down, Jihoon knew where to step and where to avoid putting his feet. After all these years he knew where the trees spread their roots and where the ground tended to turn softer after rainfall. The barking continued, sometimes followed by a howl, and Jihoon’s steps quickened. Making his way up the stone steps, which he put down himself, he could hear the pitter-patter of eager paws walking on the wooden patio. Duke had managed to open the door by himself again and was now running down the stairs to meet his owner. The brown labrador had his mouth wide open, in what almost looked like a smile, and his ears flopping back on his head due to the speed he had managed to pick up. When they collided, Jihoon let out a loud groan. Not even this was unusual to his daily routine, and he managed to stay stable despite the sixty-pound canine throwing himself at him.
“Are you hungry, bud?” Jihoon scratched the dog behind his ear, which satisfied him enough to stand still for a while. “Let’s make some breakfast, alright?”
Most of the trees outside of Jihoon’s, now fogged-up, windows were pine. There were a few leafy trees here and there, sticking out like a sore thumb due to their red and orange color, but his main source of wood was pine. Which is why his fireplace always had the faint smell of it. The steam coming from his pan was making the entire kitchen stuffy, and he was reminded once again that he had to fix his hood fan. And while the issue could be temporarily fixed by opening a window, it wasn’t ideal as the season grew colder.
Duke was eating his kibble but was temporarily interrupted by Jihoon putting a slice of bacon in his bowl as well. He didn’t seem to mind the interruption and happily continued while Jihoon went to sit down at the table. It was a small mahogany table, perfect for one. The carvings on the legs were uneven, a show of his craftsmanship. On the table laid the morning newspaper, which he had picked up before getting to making breakfast. It wasn’t incredibly interesting, but it was nice to keep up with the things that happened in the town. Jihoon lived right on the outskirts, like a hermit of sorts, and only drove his truck into town when he had to make a delivery or get something for himself. He had a small garden behind the cabin and if it was necessary he could go out into the forest and hunt, although he would rather not, so he didn’t visit many times. Maybe once a month for deliveries and to stock up on food. Most of the time he was alone right by the mountainside, in the middle of the woods. He didn’t mind being alone, and seeing as he had Duke he wasn’t necessarily lonely. Being in the town made him feel more lonely than ever. He could see his old classmates with new friends, random strangers going on dates, or families gathering together in mom-and-pop restaurants. Avoiding the town made him feel less lonely. Sometimes he’d think about what life would have looked like if he had followed his parents’ advice, to not take over the family business and try to get out in the world instead. For his own sake. But he felt a certain pride for the cabin, and the woods surrounding it.
The feeling of Duke licking his leg brought him out of his thoughts. Jihoon bent down and petted his dog’s head.
“At least I have you.” Jihoon sighed.
Duke gave him a look that seemed sympathetic, and although he knew that the dog couldn’t understand him it still gave Jihoon an ounce of comfort. He looked out of the window again. The sun had started rising above the trees now. It was time to start work.
Just as every other day, he went out into the woods with Duke and marked trees that needed to be cut down. These trees were on their way to wither away, or it was the town that had asked him to cut them down to create an easy access path. Jihoon didn’t like to cut down young trees, or trees that had no reason to be cut down. It felt like he was stealing from the forest and the wildlife. Maybe he wasn’t entirely cut out for this line of work. He usually disregarded those thoughts and kept doing it his way. Jihoon would also frequently plant new trees. As soon as the ground had thawed and turned soft after winter, he would buy new saplings to plant. That’s why you could see a lot of different trees in this forest, which otherwise was only pine. He, and the people before him, had planted them there.
After marking the trees with orange paint, he would go back to the cabin and cut up trees that he had already collected. A pile of empty tree trunks lay beside the cabin. Jihoon always cut off the twigs and branches and gathered them in bundles to use as firewood. This was the thing he made the most sales on. The bundles of twigs and branches were cheaper than the full logs. Even though the logs lasted longer in the fireplace, people would rather buy more of something cheap than invest in the logs. Jihoon didn’t mind - the money he got from those twigs put food on his table. But it was irritating at times when people refused to see that they could be much better off. Then again, maybe it was just irritating that no one asked for his opinion on the one thing that he knew anything about.
Towards the end of the afternoon, Duke was aching to go out on another walk. And as they always did, they picked a random direction to walk in and started their exploring. The forest was mapped out, of course, but it was a lot different to explore it with your own two feet - and Jihoon was sure that he still hadn’t walked in every place of the forest, even though he grew up in it. South of the cabin laid a small river, which he knew very well but hadn’t spent much time walking with. He had crossed the river and explored the edge of the mountain on the other side, but he hadn’t walked upstream. Duke seemed happy enough about the choice, wagging his tail and frolicking across the rocks and fallen trees.
The river wasn’t frozen, but it certainly felt like it when Jihoon put his hand in the water, and pulled it out quickly. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and tried to hide his hands in his sleeves. He should have brought gloves, it always came as an afterthought at this time of year - no matter how many times he had experienced it. The tip of his nose was numb, but his feet were sweating in the thick pair of socks he was wearing. It didn’t help that he had brought out his winter boots. Jihoon wondered how it could be that Duke didn’t seem cold at all. His fur wasn’t very thick, yet he didn’t have a problem with dipping his paw in the freezing river and walking on. Of course, he knew better than to jump in, which he didn’t do as a puppy. But over the years, Duke came to understand that if he jumped in the water when it was cold outside it meant that playtime was over. He had yet to learn about running off whenever he saw something interesting.
Jihoon knows that he should keep his dog on a leash when exploring new areas. Duke was well-behaved when he was in a familiar climate, but he always got too excited when seeing something new. So when he ran away from the river, in a random direction, it shouldn’t have surprised Jihoon as much as it did. The owner followed his happy dog to a glade that he had yet to see. The glade was of monumental size, and it bewildered Jihoon that he hadn’t found this yet. In the middle of this open space, stood an old apple tree. He wasn’t knowledgeable about different kinds of apple trees, but Jihoon did know that a few kinds of apples didn’t ripen until late autumn. Duke hurried to the tree, and Jihoon followed with long strides.
“Stop!” he shouted out in vain.
There was something about the tree that had Duke transfixed. Jihoon couldn’t blame him, even though he was mesmerized by the tree. He hadn’t seen any fruit trees in the forest before. Although he had planned on planting some outside his house, he had never gotten around to it. The grand space surrounding the apple tree was strange as well. You would think that this space would be filled with tree saplings by now. Even more strange, Jihoon couldn’t remember a large glade such as this one on any map he had ever studied of the forest.
Duke was running around the tree trunk and rolling around on the flourishing grass. Jihoon closed in on the tree with weary steps. The tree wasn’t long, but it was thick and its branches spread out wide. It was the kind of tree that every child would want to climb on, so despite its old age, it felt youthful. The bark mirrored the river in its flowing motions. He had the urge to reach out his hand and trace the ridges but held himself back. The leaves were bright and green, and the fruit sat in clumps on the branches - weighing them down to hang lower than they otherwise would. Jihoon could reach out and grab a shiny red apple if he so pleased, but he decided not to. They looked delicious, mostly red with a few green splotches, and although he didn’t have much knowledge about apples, Jihoon knew that they were ripe for harvesting.
It was hard to leave the glade, something pulled Jihoon back into its warm embrace. But he knew that he had to get home and feed Duke - let alone himself. Duke had problems leaving too, but his stomach also seemed to push him over the edge eventually. When Jihoon looked back at the tree, it almost looked like it had turned and reached out for him. But he knew that that would be impossible.
That night Jihoon dreamt of the glade. The forest around him was a blur, and all he could see was the apple tree. It beckoned him in a swaying motion, calling his name. He walked slowly to the tree, but despite his leisurely steps he still ended up by the tree within seconds. The wind was calm, barely there even - he couldn’t quite tell where his skin ended and the air began. He reached out and touched the bark. The rough-looking bark felt smooth under his calloused palms. It was damp as if it had just been raining, but not in the way that water could make wood feel almost slimy. It just felt fresh. Jihoon closed the distance between himself and the tree, putting his cheek against the bark. With his ear against the tree, he could hear a faint heartbeat. He took a shaky breath and looked up at the crown of the tree. Right above him hung a red apple - he had never seen an apple so ruby red, so perfectly shaped and colored. On instinct, he reached for it, plucked it, and brought it to his lips without hesitation. His hot breath fogged up the shiny apple. Was he allowed to take a bite? Jihoon could hear the heartbeat from the tree without even leaning against it. It was beating faster. His lips parted slowly, and his teeth dug into the skin of the fruit. Juices flooded his mouth, sweet and heavenly, and dripped down his chin. The juice from the apple dribbled down his jaw, down his torso - it felt like a finger tracing his skin, and it left a trail of goosebumps down his body. The flesh of the fruit tasted like honey, and when he had taken one bite he couldn’t stop himself from taking another. His teeth dug into the apple like a hungry animal that had finally caught its prey. Suddenly, Jihoon could feel a pair of hands rubbing his back. The person’s breath fanned against his neck.
“Come back to me.” It was a woman’s voice, as sweet as the apple Jihoon just ate.
In mere seconds, everything was taken away from him. The taste of the apple, the feeling of the tree, the woman’s voice - they, and even the memory of them, were all gone when Jihoon woke up. All that was left from the dream was an innate longing to go back to the glade. He thought about it all day. His body went on auto-pilot to commit to all of his chores, but his mind was in the glade. There was something special about the place, it felt like it had taken a part of him and kept it as hostage. So when the time came for Duke’s afternoon walk, Jihoon took the lead and walked the same path they had the day before. And much like the day before, his dog ran off at a random point during the walk. However, today it seemed to be in a different area altogether and yet Jihoon ended up in that same glade.
The apple tree stood tall, its apples almost golden in the light of the sun. Jihoon hurried over, tripping over roots and other such things on the way. It didn’t matter if he fell, there was something about the tree that made dirtying his clothes and scraping his knees worth it. As he approached the tree, it welcomed him. It looked like it took a sigh of relief when it could feel his presence again. In bits and pieces, the dream came back to him. Jihoon pressed his ear to the tree, but he couldn’t hear a heartbeat. He felt a little foolish and backed away from the tree. Duke had laid down beside it, putting his head on one of its large roots, and looked at Jihoon judgingly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jihoon huffed and turned back to the tree. “Dreams make people do weird things sometimes.”
As Jihoon looked a little closer at the tree, it started changing. Twisting and turning its body, as if it was stretching after sitting down for long, and moving its branches, like someone moving their joints. The leaves rustled and a few apples fell. Right in front of his eyes, the tree was turning into a woman. As the tree kept turning and bending in all kinds of ways, it was also changing its very form. The body was shaped with curves and edges, the leaves turned into hair, and the bark turned into skin. The woman groaned as her transformation was complete - taking a single step before falling to the ground. Jihoon hurried to her side, kneeling to see that she was alright. She wasn’t all human, her body still looked like it was made of bark and leaves in most places of her body, but she definitely wasn’t just a tree anymore. Without so much as an explanation as to what she was, the tree-woman sat up and wiggled around her limbs - like someone trying to get life back in their foot after it had fallen asleep.
“Are you alright?” Jihoon stuttered out.
“I think so.” The tree-woman looked up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you came back.”
She stood up and walked over to Duke, who usually growled at strangers but was now as happy as ever. Jihoon watched her interact with his dog, petting him and talking to him - not in a baby voice like most people do with dogs, but in a tone that indicated that Duke was talking back.
“I’ll tell him.” She nodded, stood up from where she was crouching, and turned to Jihoon. “He says it’s time to go home, he’s hungry.”
“Uhm…” Jihoon looked between the tree-woman and his dog. “Okay.”
Duke ran up to his side happily, and the tree-woman looked content. She walked over to where her tree once stood and picked up one of the apples that had fallen to the ground. When she handed it to him, Jihoon took the apple with little to no hesitation.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’ve been called a lot of things…” She pondered for some time before adding. “You can call me Y/N.”
Jihoon nodded. He didn’t feel like he needed to tell her his name, something told him that she already knew. Without another word, she wandered off in a random direction. Despite seemingly choosing at random, she also looked like she knew exactly where she was going. Jihoon headed in the opposite direction, back home.
The journey back home was faster than yesterday, and yet when he arrived he saw the tree-woman standing beside his house. She was looking at the piles of lumber in Jihoon’s backyard. When she saw that he had arrived, he expected her to look angry. However, his assumptions were incorrect, as she smiled instead.
“How did you…”
“Welcome home,” she said.
“Thank you?” Jihoon looked around himself, trying to find a way that this woman could get to his house before him. “How did you get here so fast?”
She ignored his question and began walking up the stairs, looking down at him expectantly with every other step. Duke didn’t hesitate to follow her to the front door of the house. Jihoon eventually followed and, even though it went against all of his instincts, let the woman inside his house. A trail of leaves and small pieces of bark trailed behind her as she walked toward the couch. She laid down and closed her eyes, not uttering a single excuse as to what she was doing there. Jihoon draped a blanket around her. The apple she had given him was placed on the kitchen counter, going untouched for the rest of the day.
Jihoon couldn’t fall asleep that night. Partially because there was a stranger in his house, which he couldn’t bring himself to kick out, but also because of an excitement that was growing in his chest - a feeling that not even the most skilled of stoics could deny. There was something about this woman, about Y/N, that had his body completely tensed up and intoxicated. Like a kid before Christmas morning, Jihoon couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, go to sleep. He laid in bed, tossing and turning, trying to drown out his own thoughts by forcing himself to think about other things. These feelings were entirely too embarrassing for him to feel, was what Jihoon had convinced himself had to be the truth.
That morning, when Jihoon walked into his kitchen, he caught a glimpse of the tree-woman’s naked figure - barely draped in the blanket that Jihoon had given her last night. There were no signs of her being a tree anymore. Her skin was cleared from patches of bark, and her hair didn’t have leaves stuck in it. The only reason Jihoon knew that he hadn’t dreamt the entire thing, was the piles of leaves and tree remains on his carpet. It reminded him of when Duke started shedding more than usual, the way it seemed to stick to every surface of the room. Y/N noticed him and turned her body towards him, not caring that the blanket covered absolutely nothing. Jihoon quickly turned around in a flustered frenzy.
“Sorry-” He coughed to try to cover the crack in his voice.
“It’s okay,” she hummed. “I don’t mind.”
She sounded almost surprised at his reaction, as if it was normal of her to walk around naked and for others to see her like that. Jihoon heard shuffling behind him, slow and careful movements.
“I’ll cover up if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said.
Jihoon turned slowly to look at her again. The blanket was wrapped over her head and tightly around her frame, hiding every inch of her skin except her face. She looked at him expectantly, but he wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Maybe a thank you or for him to assure her that it was alright. But no words left Jihoon’s lips, he just stared into her eyes. He had to force himself to look away.
“I should get you clothes…” He walked back towards his bedroom. “Wait here.”
The two of them ate breakfast together - Jihoon ate a non-meat breakfast for the first time since he could remember, just in case it would somehow offend her if he didn’t. Y/N kept her eyes on the window, watching the rain fall heavily on the mossy ground, but Jihoon couldn’t get his eyes off of her. It was scary how normal she looked, when she had just barely twelve hours ago looked like an actual tree. It was like something out of the fantasy books he used to read when he was young. Just twelve hours ago she was covered in colorful leaves and bumpy bark, and now she looked like any other woman - wearing one of his flannel shirts. The only reason he knew that he hadn’t been dreaming was the trail of her old self covering all of the living room. Instead of dwelling too much on it, Jihoon simply welcomed her company - despite the rational part of his brain screaming at him that this was not normal.
It seemed like it was never going to stop raining. Although rain had never stopped Jihoon before, he decided that it meant that he had to stay home with Y/N. After breakfast, she sat down on the living room floor and played with Duke. She had a strange instant connection with him, which Jihoon had never seen Duke have with anyone else. While the two of them played, Jihoon did the dishes - occasionally stopping to look back at the adorable scene playing out just as he had imagined before. He hadn’t imagined it with Y/N, of course, but just with someone. He had dreamed of bringing someone home and living a domestic life with them in this cabin. As mundane as it sounded, Jihoon longed to get to make breakfast for someone and wash their dishes - he wanted to hand them a cup of coffee in the morning, just as they got out of bed, and kiss their cheek as a silent way to say “good morning”. Jihoon smiled to himself as he pictured it in front of him, now with you as that someone. The thoughts quickly disappeared as he felt a tapping on his shoulder. Y/N and Duke were standing right behind him, both of them looking at him expectantly. It reminded him of how Duke would sit quietly beside him as soon as he started rustling with plastic.
“Duke says that he wants to play outside,” she said.
“What?”
“Can we?” she asks as if she needed his permission to do so. “I won’t take him out too far- and we’ll be back soon.”
Jihoon looked at her, and then out the window. It was still raining. When he looked down at Duke, he was still sitting perfectly still with a pleading look in his eye. He looked back at Y/N, who had the same look in her eyes.
“But it’s raining.” Jihoon pointed at the window.
“Rain is not a bad thing,” she said, “And definitely not a reason to stay inside.”
Duke barked, gaining Jihoon’s attention again. They both looked set in their decision. How could Jihoon say no to that?
“I mean, sure.” Jihoon looked between the two of them. “I’ll finish the dishes.”
Jihoon watched them run around like fools from his window. She was building up piles of leaves for Duke to jump in, and throwing sticks for him to fetch. Duke was normally a reserved dog around strangers, but she seemed to have him wrapped around her little finger. Where she ran, he followed. They were both soaked when they came back inside - but Y/N was still smiling and Duke’s tail was still wagging back and forth. Jihoon handed Y/N a towel, before helping Duke dry off.
“I’m freezing…” Y/N giggled through chattering teeth.
“I could make a fire,” Jihoon suggested cautiously. “If that’s… okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because…” Jihoon had no idea how to phrase it. “The wood?”
“I have no connection to trees that have died, if that’s what you’re asking.” She shrugged off the, now wet, flannel shirt, making Jihoon look away from her quickly. “I know that you only take the trees that have already died, you know? You don’t have to be nervous… Do you have another one of these that I can wear?”
“... closet,” Jihoon mumbled, his ears glowing red.
She thanked him before leaving. Jihoon felt like a teenager again. He shouldn’t get this flustered by the silhouette of a naked woman in the corner of his eyes. Duke whined, and Jihoon realized that he had stopped drying him off. He muttered an apology to the dog, and continued drying him off.
Y/N came back out of his room just a few minutes later with new clothes on - an old sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants - and holding a book in her hands. It was dusty from sitting on his bookshelf for ages. She showed him the cover, it was a book about forest creatures.
“What’s this?”
“A book from my childhood,” he hummed and took the book from her hands. “I forgot that I still had this.”
She sat down on the couch and patted on the place beside her. The fire was already burning in the fireplace, so Jihoon did as she wanted and sat down. Although Duke wasn’t normally allowed on the couch, he jumped up and laid his head in Y/N’s lap.
“Read to me,” she said.
Jihoon opened the book. The text was big, and there were lots of pictures, so it wasn’t a long read. And yet, they sat there for hours. Y/N was pointing at things, either laughing or explaining what the creatures really looked like. It surprised Jihoon that all of his childhood fantasies were true. The amount of times he had gone into the woods looking for these creatures, and they might have actually been there right under his nose. Not all of it was real, but the fact that any of it, even such a small portion, was real was enough for him. When they got to the page about dryads, tree nymphes, she went quiet. Jihoon cleared his throat and kept reading.
“Dryad…” He paused before reading the next sentence. “A nymph or nature spirit who lives in trees and takes the form of a beautiful young woman.”
Y/N looked at the picture, tracing the drawing’s figure with her fingers. Jihoon studied her expression, trying to find even the smallest inkling to what she was thinking. Her face was a blank canvas.
“Do you think I look like that?” she asked.
“Not really… they’ve got a few things right, I suppose.” He looked closer at the picture.
“... am I beautiful?”
Her words took the air out of his lungs. How was he supposed to answer that? He immediately started overthinking, and having her stare at his flustered face didn’t help. When he faced her, his mouth dried out. She was looking at him with big glittering eyes, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he said.
She smiled, pleased with his answer, and turned to focus on the book again. Jihoon kept his eyes on her as she flipped the page, laughing at the next picture as soon as she laid eyes on it. His heart flipped in his ribcage, and he began nervously fidgeting with the corner of the book.
“Read this one!”
The next morning, the rain had stopped. There was a slight chill in the air, but not enough to create frost and not enough to keep Jihoon inside yet another day. He took Duke out for his walk, and Y/N followed. She was wrapped up in Jihoon’s winter coat, as he had insisted. Duke was running ahead of them, even though he had seen this part of the forest at least a hundred times already, and Jihoon and Y/N took their time strolling down the path. Questions were itching in the back of Jihoon’s mind, and walking in silence didn’t help. So, even though he knew that he maybe shouldn’t, he asked.
“Could I ask a few questions?” he asked, and quickly added, “About you?”
“Go ahead.”
She didn’t look at him, but she was smiling. It was as if she had expected it to happen at this particular moment.
“How…” Jihoon had a million questions running through his mind all at once, and just had to settle on one. “How do you know me?”
“You work in the forest,” she said. “So do I.”
“... and what is it that you do?”
“I keep it alive.” She finally turned to him. “I keep it in harmony. This forest is me, just as much as I am it. I have to protect it.”
“From people like me?”
“Not exactly…” She sighed and turned away from him again, slowing down her steps. “Humans are also a part of the forest, if we take people like you out of it then we can’t have harmony. It is the people who go out of their way to disrespect my home that I have to be cautious of.”
Jihoon nodded. He understood, he had seen the trash laying in bushes and the people who try to hunt even when it’s not the season. A feeling of relief washed over him when he understood that she wasn’t there to haunt him in some way.
“I thought that you’d remember me,” she murmured.
“Remember you?”
“I met you many years ago. You were… tiny.” Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. “I had only just taken over the forest, and I found you crying. You were lost, so I helped you back.”
Jihoon had a faint memory of getting lost for the first time. Despite his parents having told him to stay still and hug a tree, he couldn’t help but follow the tiny whirlwind of leaves that eventually led him out of the forest. He didn’t mention this to Y/N, he wasn’t sure how to.
“You’re bigger now,” she commented. “It feels a bit strange to see.”
“What? That I’ve grown up?”
“Yeah… to be fair, I wasn’t very big then either but…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you’d stay tiny.”
Jihoon let out a choked laugh, which made her smile. He loved to make her smile, it felt like seeing the sun peak out of the clouds after a heavy storm.
Jihoon started spending more and more time with Y/N. The only time he wasn’t with her was when he was making deliveries, or out getting food. Being isolated for so long made even the strangest companions welcome. He had made a temporary home for her in his room, opting to sleep on a spare bed that he used to give to guests. It was creaky and uncomfortable, so it was out of the question for him to give it to her. She was practically a goddess, he couldn’t give her an old guest bed. Every day was filled with laughter, something that Jihoon hadn’t experienced in a while. His face would light up every time she walked into his line of vision, and he was sure she noticed.
One day, during their afternoon walk, Jihoon found himself walking the same path that he had about a week ago - when he first saw the glade. He didn’t think much of it, he was just following Duke. But even when his dog wanted to go in a different direction, his legs insisted on following the familiar route. Y/N didn’t say anything. Her arm was wrapped around his, looking at the ground to make sure that she didn’t step on something. It was only when they had entered the glade that she acknowledged it.
“We’re back here?” She hummed in slight surprise.
The glade looked the same, except there was no apple tree anymore. In the place where she had stood was a spot where no grass would grow. You could say that the grass wouldn’t grow because it was nearing winter, but Jihoon knew that even if it was a warm summer day there wouldn’t grow any grass on that patch.
“I guess we are…” Jihoon looked around. “Do you want to leave?”
“No,” she said. “Let’s go sit down.”
They sat down on the grass, right in front of the bare patch. The ground was cold, and Jihoon wished that he had brought along a blanket to lay down under them. Y/N didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m glad that Duke helped you find this place,” she said, “Otherwise I don’t think I’d ever meet you.”
Jihoon looked over at Duke, who was running around the glade.
“He helped me here?”
“I called on him, yes.” She put her hand on his knee. “I wanted to see you.”
Jihoon thought about the dream, and if she could possibly have anything to do with it. He looked at her, watched her lean her head against his shoulder, and decided that he had to ask - he needed to know.
“I had a dream that night…” he started and turned his head away from her. “After I had been here the first time.”
“Hm?”
“I dreamt that I was in the glade, and I ate an apple.” Jihoon could feel her staring at him. “And I think you called out to me… to come back.”
“You ate the apple?” She said it in a tone that Jihoon couldn’t quite place, he didn’t know if she was sad, or angry, or just surprised.
“Yeah… was that bad?”
“No! No, not at all.” She laughed, Jihoon was yet again reminded of silverbells. “Before I became the protector of this forest, I lived with other dryads… they would always tell a story about fruit trees, that those who ate our fruit had promised themselves to us in some way… it’s a silly story, but to some it’s seen as a promise of devotion.”
“Devotion?”
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” She turned to look at him with a smile, which faded when she saw his serious expression.
“No, I don’t think so.”
A million thoughts were racing through Jihoon’s head, but they all quieted down when Y/N moved closer to him. He could feel her breath against his lips. His eyes drifted down to her lips, his hand moved to cup her cheek. As he moved even closer her eyes fluttered shut. Their lips met; it was a short kiss. Her lips were soft, and the feeling of them lingered on Jihoon’s lips. In his stomach, butterflies started flying around. Her skin was so soft under his calloused palm. Her hands reached for the back of his head, and pulled him in for another kiss. Their lips locked, and Jihoon began feeling warm all over - forgetting about how he had just complained about the cold ground. Her fingers were in his hair, gently caressing his scalp. She tasted like honey, reminding him of how the apple in his dream had tasted. He grew greedy, trying to get closer to her. However, his attempt failed and they both fell to the ground - him on top of her.
“Shit, I’m sorry-”
She was laughing. His face turned red, before realizing that she wasn’t laughing at him. He let out a faint chuckle, which was followed by more laughter. Once he had gotten up, he helped her up as well - she was still giggling, but he had a feeling that it was more from excitement rather than the fact that they fell over.
“I’m sorry for laughing,” she said.
“You don’t have to apologize.” Jihoon took her hand, and she quickly intertwined her fingers with his.
“Are you ready to head home?”
That night, Y/N asked him if he would sleep in the bed with her. Her reasoning was that she knew the guest bed was uncomfortable, but Jihoon didn’t care about explanations or excuses. He welcomed spending a night holding her, even when his arm grew numb from being under her for so long. Nothing more than sleeping happened, but Jihoon still woke up with the feeling that he had crossed a line that he couldn’t go back from.
Y/N was still sleeping when Jihoon got out of bed. He went into the kitchen, prepared to make something for the both of them. The apple that she had given to him the first day she met was hiding behind his kettle. He must have forgotten that it was there. Despite it having gone a week since then, the apple looked the same. It hadn’t aged at all. Jihoon looked back at the closed door to the bedroom, and thought about what Y/N had said. Devotion. Jihoon brought his lips to the apple and took a bite. It was as sweet as he remembered.
Another couple days had passed since they kissed. Neither of them talked about it, or repeated the action, but the air around them had changed. Every accidental touch held much more weight than it used to. Everytime her fingers would brush over his, it would leave his hand with a burning sensation. Everytime he glanced at her lips, his ears would turn red. It was no secret that he had fallen in love with her, and not acknowledging it was making it worse.
It was getting dark outside, partly because of the sun going down but also because of the rainclouds that were coming their way. Duke had taken his place in Jihoon’s bedroom, refusing to come out of his fluffy dog bed. It was no surprise, since he had been running around in the cold all day. But with him absent, it made the air between Jihoon and Y/N even thicker. When it started raining, Jihoon was relieved to hear Y/N suggest that they go outside. Maybe a bit of cold rain was just what he needed. The two of them ran outside, not bothering with putting on coats or better clothes. Y/N ran around on the cold grass, but Jihoon looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes and let the rain just fall on him. He only looked around himself when he heard laughter - silver bells.
“What?” he asked.
“You always look so stoic.” She grinned. “You should have more fun, you know?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A wide grin appeared on Jihoon’s face, and he began chasing her. She ran as fast as she could on the slippery grass, letting out a shrill scream as he captured her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her up.
“Is this what you mean by fun?” he huffed.
She only laughed in response, kicking to try to get him to put her down. When he did, they took a moment to breathe. They were both panting, completely soaked through from the rain, and couldn’t break eye contact with each other. As their laughter died down, Jihoon wrapped his arms around her again - now more gentle.
“You ate the apple.” She put her hands on his chest.
Jihoon went quiet, but nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her. She must have been the one that put it behind the kettle - maybe a way to see if he would take it.
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know…” He sighed. “I thought about what you said… about devotion.”
“And?”
“And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would do anything for you.” Any rational thinking had escaped him, he needed to speak his mind. “I want to be… I am devoted to you. I haven’t felt this strongly about anything in years.”
Y/N’s hands creeped up his chest and her arms wrapped around his neck. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek… then to his other cheek. Her nose brushed his, waiting for him to take the final step to kiss her. He looked at her, studied the lustful look in her eyes, and brought his lips to his forehead. A soft peck.
“Will you have me?” he asked carefully.
“Yes,” she said, “I want you.”
“Good.” He pressed his lips to hers, just as quickly as he had kissed her forehead. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll make a fire.”
They got a change of clothes, and Jihoon prepared the fireplace. She didn’t seem too happy about leaving their moment so quickly, but Jihoon didn’t blame her - he wouldn’t be very happy about it either. He needed to be sure that it was what she wanted, then he would give her everything and more. Despite his attempts, Jihoon wasn’t the type to have a quick fling. He needed this to be special, not something he would regret, or wish that he had done differently. So he made up a fire, and put down blankets and pillows on the floor for the two of them to warm up. The fire lit up her face in the most celestial way. She was mesmerized by the flame, but he was devoted to only looking at her. When she gave him the honor of meeting his gaze, his heart skipped a beat. She reached for his hand, quietly picking it up to bring to her lips. They were soft against his rough skin. How she could touch him so delicately, he would never understand.
“Thank you,” she said, “For taking me in. It’s been so long since I've gotten to be with someone like this.”
Jihoon brought her hand to his chest, pushing her palm flat right on top of where his heart was rapidly beating. She smiled at him and moved closer. Her one hand stayed on his chest, while the other caressed the area where his neck met his shoulder. The sparkle in her eye when she felt his heartbeat quicken made him all the more eager to please her. She was the only thing that mattered right now, she was the only person in the world for him. Y/N toyed with the hair on the nape of his neck, then letting her hand slip down the back of his shirt - just slightly letting her fingertips grace the top of his broad back.
“I couldn’t bring myself to leave you,” he murmured, “Not for a second.”
Her smile widened. She was pleased. Jihoon let out a soft sigh as he stared at her lovingly. Y/N shuffled around to straddle his lap, pressing her core against his crotch. Slowly, she began rocking her hips back and forth. Jihoon, who had been aching for all this time, couldn’t help but moan at the slight movements.
“Do you want to please me?” she asked.
“More than anything,” Jihoon whined.
He put his head in the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent. Jihoon could get high on her scent, in a way that no other drug could ever possibly live up to. Y/N started grinding down harder on him, her hands wandering to gently pull on his hair. Jihoon didn’t know what to do with himself, the sensation was too overwhelming, and he could only think of wrapping his arms around her to pull her in closer. He began leaving open-mouthed kisses along her clavicle and up her neck, gracing his death against her skin ever so slightly. Even through his clothes, her movements felt divine - Jihoon could only imagine what it would feel like being inside her.
“Look at me.” She pulled on his hair to get him to stop sucking bruises on her neck. “Do you feel desperate, Jihoon?”
“Yes.”
“I can see that.” She grinned. “You’ll do anything for me, right?”
“Anything.”
“Take off your clothes and lay down.”
Y/N stood up from her place on his lap, and Jihoon hurried to rip off his clothes. Just as he had pulled off his shirt, and was about to take off his belt, she bent over to pull off her underwear. In the light of the fire, he could see her pussy glistening. With immense self-control, he pulled off his pants and laid down as she had told him - instead of licking up every drop that was running down her legs. Like a man starved waiting for his first meal in ages, Jihoon felt his mouth watering at the thought of having her - impatiently waiting for her to let him ravage her. His wishes were granted as she took her place on top of his face. Jihoon was almost too quick to grab her hips and pull her down to meet his mouth. His tongue laid flat against her pussy, drinking her up as if she was the fountain of youth. When she began grinding on his face, he knew he was a goner. There was a big mess all over his face at this point, probably on the floor as well, but he didn’t care. Jihoon moaned against her, trying to push her further down - not caring if he was suffocated in the process.
“Don’t stop- you’re going to make me cum,” she moaned, and it only egged him on further.
With the same pace and rigor, he devoured her whole. Wet, messy noises could be heard throughout the cabin, along with their combined moans and groans. Her cum was as sweet as nectar, and if she hadn’t pulled away he would’ve continued eating her out well past overstimulation. She was his drug. Jihoon leaned on his elbows and watched her ribcage rise and fall. Y/N was back on his lap again, dangerously close to his, painfully hard, cock.
“You’re such a good boy for me,” she breathed out. “Thank you.”
Her words whirred around in his head over and over again. He needed to please her, he needed to hear her say that again.
“More,” he rasped.
Before she could think to respond, Jihoon had pounced on her. Her body still limp from her orgasm, she laid beneath him spread out for him to enjoy. But Jihoon didn’t kiss her until she had given him a small nod. Teeth were clashing, the mess they had already made was being spread around, and clammy hands were gripping at whatever body parts were the closest. Jihoon kissed down her body, wanting to taste her again.
“You’re a goddess,” he murmured against her skin, “Let me worship you. Please.”
His face was in between her legs again, looking up at her with sparkling eyes. She put out her hand to gently caress his cheek, making him close his eyes and lean into her touch. Maybe he could ignore his own needs - as long as she would let him have her.
“You’ve proven yourself to me,” she whispered. “I want to repay you.”
She sat up and pushed him to lay down again. Now that they were in the same position as before, instead of approaching his face, she leaned down to press kisses on his abdomen. Slowly, her lips traveled south. Jihoon leaned on his elbows again, trying to take her all in despite the urge to shut his eyes tight in pure bliss. Her velvet tongue licked a stripe up his shaft before enclosing her lips around his cock. His mouth fell open and his eyes wandered to the back of his head as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat. She looked up at him, her eyes big and teary from gagging. Pulling herself up, her mouth let go of his head with a pop. Her hand wrapped around his aching cock and slowly stroked it.
“You’re heaven,” he moaned. “You’re-... you’re surreal…”
“I’m yours,” she corrected. “I’ll let you do with me as you please.”
With that said, she wrapped her lips around him again and began bobbing her head up and down. Jihoon’s hips stuttered up, which he quickly apologized for. But the moan that escaped her, and vibrated against him, made him take his apology back. He thought about what she had said, and laid down flat again so that he could intertwine his fingers in her hair. She hummed in approval, and Jihoon began guiding her movements. At first he was soft and gentle, but as he grew more impatient so did his movements.
“Fuck, your mouth feels so good around me,” he hissed.
As he fucked her throat, she became a gagging, moaning mess. Looking up at him with lustful eyes, she silently begged him to continue. Watching her fall apart like this - all because of him - made his eyes roll to the back of his head and, without thinking, he came down her throat. Jihoon watched her take it all and swallow once she had removed her mouth from him. She leaned over him and kissed him again, desperate to stay as close as possible.
“I’m burning for you,” she whined when she pulled away from his lips. “Please help me.”
Jihoon held her face in his palms, bringing her in for another kiss. His lips moved slowly against hers, as they changed positions yet again. Only when he was on top of her - her legs spread wide for him - did he break the kiss. His lips traveled down her jaw and neck, down to the valley of her breast. He watched her writhe beneath him as his hand massaged one of her breasts, letting his mouth wrap around the nipple of the other. Her eyes were shut and her mouth wide open, not hiding any noises she made. With his free hand, he began toying with her sensitive clit. Her eyes opened in shock, clearly not expecting this to be the direction for him to go in. But he knew that he’d have to prep her before he could be inside her. So, once his fingers were coated in her slick, he pushed two fingers inside her. With gentle movements, he curled his fingers with each pull. His thumb found her clit again - applying pressure to the bud made her clench around him. Her hands reached for his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. At the pressure of her nails, Jihoon lifted his head from her body and shifted his attention to her face. Her face was scrunched up in pleasure, and her eyes opened only when Jihoon pulled out his fingers. She didn’t have time to protest before his slick fingers were in her mouth. Enclosing her lips around them, she let out a soft hum.
“Do you taste how sweet you are?” he murmured, and took out his fingers from her mouth.
Y/N lifted up her hands and cupped Jihoon’s face softly, guiding him to kiss her again. His eyes fluttered shut as he enjoyed the moment of peace amidst the impassioned energy surrounding them. At the sound of her laughter, like the sound of silver bells, he let them open again.
“You looked so blissful.” She brushed a few hairs out his face.
“I am blissful, darling.”
They let their eyes linger, looking deep into the windows of their souls. The once awkward and somewhat cold man was now bearing his heart for her, and she wanted to drink it all up. After pressing a kiss to his cheek, she gave him a nod - which he understood immediately. As much as he enjoyed the peace, he could not ignore the aching sensation in his lower abdomen any longer. He hadn’t longed for someone this much before. Lining up his cock with her entrance, he slowly pushed inside of her. A string of curses left his lips, he was still sensitive from his previous orgasm. Y/N hushed his words with another kiss until he had bottomed out inside her.
“You’re so good to me,” she whispered against his lips. “And so beautiful…”
Jihoon’s face turned red. She was studying his features, all while trying to fight back the urge to close her eyes in pleasure. Being watched wasn’t something that Jihoon was used to, no less admired. Instead of answering, he started moving - which forced her to finally shut her eyes. A guttural moan left her lips as he seemed to have found the spot inside her that could make her eyes roll into the back of her head. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, urging him silently to keep going. With the arm that wasn’t holding him up, Jihoon moved Y/N’s legs even further apart - gripping the flesh of her thighs. His head dipped down to her neck, placing soft kisses to her collar bone area.
“Mine,” he murmured against her skin.
Her hands moved to hold his back, letting her fingernails sink into his skin.
“All yours,” she whispered into his ear and let her nails drag down his back. “You're mine too, aren’t you?”
Jihoon groaned out a yes, his hips faltering as he lost his focus. Y/N leaned her head up, giving him more access to leave colorful marks on her neck. She locked her legs around his hips, enclosing him completely.
“Will you cum inside me, then?”
Jihoon’s movements stopped completely, unsure if he had heard her right. He moved to look at her, and he was met with a sweet smile - which definitely didn’t match what she had just asked of him. Her limbs wrapped around him tighter.
“Do you want that?” he asked.
“I want all of you,” she hummed, and leaned up to place a dulcet kiss on his lips. “Will you let me?”
“I’ll do anything for you,” he murmured and started moving again.
His forehead leaned against hers, trying to keep his eyes open to hold her gaze. Her eyes kept shifting to his lips, and fluttering close whenever he found her spot. Soft sighs and whimpers echoed through the room - along with choked moans and groans. Both tired, but neither wanted to stop. Their lips met in a clash, desperately needing to close the distance. As their bodies moved in unison, something was building up in them - yearning to break free.
“I’m close,” he murmured against her lips.
“Me too… just a little more, please, baby,” she whined.
Jihoon couldn’t deny her when she sounded like that. He couldn’t find it in himself to deny her anything at all. With sloppy movements, they continued until Jihoon felt like he was going to burst. A string of curse words escaped his lips.
“It’s okay, baby,” she moaned, “You can cum- cum inside me. Please, give it all to me.”
She kept urging him; telling him not to stop, that she was so close, and begging him to release himself inside her. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - deny her command. With a soft moan, he reached his orgasm. Despite the overstimulation, he kept moving until her hips were spasming. Both of them were heaving, unable to move. Jihoon stayed on top of her, his head having dipped into the crook of Y/N’s neck from his muscles exhaustion. He doesn’t put all of his weight on her, he wouldn’t dream of it. Her limbs are still wrapped around him, but just barely hanging there instead of gripping him tightly like she had before. After pressing a soft kiss to her neck, he mustered the strength to get up. He sat on his knees, watching her figure. Her eyes were still closed, her mouth slightly agape.
“Did you fall asleep?” he asked, mostly as a joke.
“No…” she mumbled in a way that made it seem like she’d fall asleep at any second.
“I’ll get something to clean you up,” he said, “I won’t be gone for long. Just wait here for me.”
The last bit was maybe redundant. She couldn’t move, let alone leave the room. But she just nodded in agreement, turning slightly to get closer to the still glowing fireplace. Since she wasn’t looking, Jihoon took a moment to stare before he left. He looked at the curve of her hip, letting his eyes travel to her chest and up to her clavicle. A sheen layer of sweat covered her. His eyes stayed looking at her face for a while. She wore a slight smile. It might have been a trick of the light, but Jihoon decided that he’d still let himself believe that she was smiling.
After cleaning Y/N up with a warm towel, Jihoon wrapped her up in blankets and laid down next to her. She had fallen asleep, probably too tired to stay awake any longer. The fire was burning bright again, as he had just put in an extra log in the furnace. More importantly, she was warm. Her back faced him, and being protected from her gaze made him more confident. Jihoon wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head by her shoulder. If he stayed very still, he could hear her soft breathing. Wrapping his arms even tighter around her in an attempt to pull her even closer, he pressed his nose against her neck. She smelled like a summer morning, when the air is slightly chilly and dewy - like the flowers had woken up from a nap and decided to share their fragrance with the rest of the world. Jihoon felt at home here. He was so lost in her that he hadn’t realized that she was stirring awake.
“You’re squeezing me,” she mumbled.
Jihoon’s grip immediately loosened, and he muttered out a shy apology. Y/N turned in his arms, now facing him. Her arms snaked up his shoulders and wrapped around his neck. As if it was in his nature, his head fell back into the crook of her neck. He could hear her chuckle, he could feel the vibrations from it in her chest. She didn’t comment on it, only threading her fingers through his hair.
“When was the last time you had a haircut?” she asked.
“Too long ago…” He sighed and looked up at her again. “Do you not like it?”
She took a good look at it, studying his hair like it was a rare artifact locked away in a museum. When she reached out to him, he immediately closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. With careful fingers, she brushed a few strands of hairs out of his face.
“I like it,” she said. “I think that short hair would suit you too, though… then again, I wouldn’t have as much to play with if it was short.”
“So?” He opened his eyes a crack. “Should I keep it long?”
“I think so.”
“Then I will.”
Her hand was cupping his cheek, and Jihoon put his own hand on top of it. Turning his head slightly, he kissed her palm before closing his eyes again. Y/N put her head under his chin, wrapping her arms around his torso. Jihoon drew small figures on her back with his fingers until they both fell asleep.
Jihoon woke up with a stiff back from sleeping on the floor. But he couldn’t find it in himself to complain when he saw Y/N still laying in his arms. He pulled her closer as much as he could without waking her. His fingers brushed against something on her back… it felt like tree bark. Jihoon shuffled around as carefully as he could, and turned Y/N to lay on her back. A spot of tree bark had formed on her back.
“Jihoon?” she mumbled. “What is it?”
“... your back. It’s…”
He paused, and Y/N brought her hand to her back. A sad sigh escaped her lips. She stretched and sat up, bringin the blanket up to cover her chest. When she wouldn’t look at him, Jihoon knew that something was wrong.
“This always happens when I don’t want it to.” She paused, and found the courage to look at him. “I can’t keep my human form forever.”
Jihoon’s heart sank. He reached out to hold her hand, but she pulled it back - looking closer at it, he could see that there was tree bark forming there too.
“What will happen to you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“I’ll go back to my glade, and turn back into a tree… and you’ll stay here and continue your life until the next time you get to see me.”
“And how long will that be?”
“I don’t know… it’s been a while since I’ve been able to make myself visible to humans,” she explained, “I can take a mobile form without turning human, but I will only look like a gust of wind to humans. Something happened when I met you in the glade, something that hasn’t happened in a while.”
Jihoon didn’t know what to say. She’d be able to wander around in this second dimension that she was speaking of, being able to see but not be seen. He put his hand on top of hers, not caring about the patches of bark steadily growing there.
“Take me with you,” he said.
“What?”
“I want to join you, help you watch over the forest.”
A plan was set in motion - a hasty plan, but it was all that they had time for. They would go back to the glade, and Jihoon would hold Y/N’s hand as she went through her transformation. It wasn’t just a physical transformation, but a spiritual one as well. The hope was that Jihoon would follow her to her spiritual realm, where he would be able to stay with her. Duke was supposed to stay with one of Jihoon’s distant friends, but when the time came to leave he refused to get into the car. It was clear that Duke was ready to go with them.
There was not much time. They only brought the clothes on their backs, and hurried to the glade. Y/N sat on Jihoon’s back, too stiff to make any quick movements, and Duke was running ahead of them. The forest was lenient, letting them pass through without any roots or bushes in their way. Jihoon had always felt welcomed by the forest, but now it felt like he was a part of it.
The glade looked the same as it did the first time he was there. In the familiar surroundings, Jihoon let his shoulders drop and his muscles relax. He brought Y/N to the spot where no grass would grow, her feet already starting to change. Duke rested against her legs, and Jihoon grabbed her hand.
“You’ll really stay with me?” she asked.
“Forever,” he answered.
Her hand was warm and clammy, gripping his tightly. Jihoon closed his eyes. Take a moment. Breathe in the cold air, smell the trees and the wet moss. This is home. Take a moment, and clear your head. Whisper out a silent prayer for good luck for the rest of your life.
When Jihoon opened his eyes again, Y/N was still standing in front of him and Duke was still by his feet. She hadn’t turned into a tree, neither had he. But when she moved to embrace him, he saw an apple tree standing behind him. Jihoon held his hand out in front of him. If he looked closely, his skin was slightly sheer. Looking at Duke, he could see the same sheer effect on his fur. It hadn’t felt like anything at all, as if he was completely embraced by the forest even before he took her hand. Y/N’s grip around him loosened, and he turned from her to look around himself. It was the same forest he had lived in all this time. The trees looked the same, the red leaves on the ground looked the same, but everything was different. He could hear every sound of the forest - the growing and the dying - and he came to understand how everything was in constant movement, yet simultaneously completely still.
“Welcome home,” she said.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
No one ever figured out what happened to Lee Jihoon. Some say that he just moved, but the truck in his driveway and his things still where he left them says otherwise. The first few weeks there were search parties in the woods, but people soon realized that he hadn’t gotten lost either. It was a mystery that was just accepted.
As time moved on, his disappearance became more of a legend than anything else. A children’s tale to make sure that your kids didn’t get lost in the woods, or disrespect the forest. For if you ever dare do something that you shouldn’t, don’t be surprised if you hear the howl of a big dog as dark as the midnight sky. And if you ever get lost, look for the wind that seems to blow even in the densest parts of the forest. If you ask nicely, the protectors of the forest will take you in as well - but don’t think they’ll show you mercy if you try to cause even the slightest harm to their woods.
#svthub#svthub.collab#seventeen#svt#lee jihoon x reader#lee jihoon#jihoon x reader#woozi#seventeen woozi#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#smut#angst#fluff#woozi fluff#bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
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Jason Todd / Red Hood x Reader: Factors
Word Count: tbd (I typed this on my phone)
Notes/Warnings: Based off of the Batman: Wayne Family Adventures episode with the rainbow suit. Breaking and entering via Batman (implied Batwoman), reader arming themselves, angst with resolution.
Summary: The Reader can't get to sleep. They hear someone entering the apartment so they hide. They text Jason but he isn't texting right away. When Jason does arrive in full Red Hood gear, who is more surprised, him or Batman?
A/N: Happy New Year! New year, new fanfiction.
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Lying in bed, you rolled over for the third time. Somehow, for some reason, sleep was eluding you that night. Usually sleep would eventually find it's way to you in a timely manner. But, no. Could it have been that you craved the comfort of one very specific person in addition to the pillow you were cuddling? Maybe. It was certainly a possibility.
A small tap and scratch on the window across the room stalled your thoughts. You thought nothing of it. It was likely a bird, nothing else was going to be so many stories up on an apartment.
Your entire body stilled when you heard the window begin to open slowly.
Rolling out of bed, you snatched the dagger Jason had gifted you from beneath the other pillow. Quickly finding your footing, you too took your cellphone before slipping into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door quietly.
The way your heart was pounding, you were not sure if you would be able to hear anything else. You wasted no time in texting Jason. However, after a minute with no reply, you sent another text.
There was a faint muffled voice coming from the main room. You could only hope that they would leave immediately, or Jason would materialize beside you. Both seemed rather unlikely.
Fifteen minutes passed and you swore that your heart could take no more of the situation. With your phone still in your hands, you began to send Jason a flurry of text messages. Each ranged from his name in all capital letters to your initial situation. Finally, he replied. On my way.
Not long afterward, from the quiet apartment, came a second voice. You hoped that neither would find the fine display of weapons on the wall But with the amount of time that had passed, you doubted it.
There's another one, you sent to Jason. Please hurry, but be careful.
You were sure that five minutes had not passed before you heard the front door to the apartment fly open and slam shut. A startled voice was confronted with an angry one before there was a moment of complete silence.
"Are you kidding me?!" Jason's muffled voice broke through to you.
After the initial outburst, the conversation was much too low for you to hear. But no sound of things breaking or a fight of any kind was a good sign.
You sent three question marks to his phone and received a thumbs up emoji in return.
Unlocking and opening the bathroom door quietly still, you stepped out just as you got a message from him requesting for your to wait for him. Oops.
There in the open floor space of the apartment, lightly illuminated by the city lights outside was Batman and the Red Hood. Batman, however, was wearing a rainbow colored version of his usual suit. And after you turned on the lamp by the bed, the colors were much more prominent. Although, so was the suit on the ground covered and smelling like a strange meal with extra mustard.
Everyone starred silently before you spoke up. "What the hell?" You asked, gesturing at them with the dagger in your grasp.
Batman looked you over, reminding you of your pajama state of dress. But then he smiled softly, as if the sight was a warm welcome. Turning his head back to Red Hood, you could only imagine the glare he gave the caped crusader.
"Not a word about this," he growled, pointing firmly at him.
Batman turned back to you, giving a nod. "My apologies." Then, without another word, he left back out the window.
Striding over, Red Hood shut and locked the window. He proceeded to close the curtains before turning to face you.
Approaching slowly, he took off his helmet. "I am so sorry."
Tossing your phone and dagger down onto the bed, you looked up at him, your hands resting unhappily on your hips. "You took forever to reply. What if it wasn't Batman?"
"I know," Jason's head hung low. "I messed up. We were so excited in picking out a suit for him to wear." His eyes peered up through his eyelashes with a deep look of sincerity. "But I swear, it'll never happen again. I promise. Even if you texted me 'goodnight' and that you were going to sleep, like tonight, I'll still check my phone to make sure if it's you or not. I just-" His breathing became heavy.
You stepped over to him as he searched for more words, gently cradling his head in your hands. "But at least we're both okay, right?" You reasoned.
"Yeah, but what if it-"
"Nothing did. We're living life. Some sort of lesson was bound to find us again. I'm willing to move on and look past this. How about you?"
With a small sigh, he smiled. "All right. My heart is still pounding-well, not as much as before," he trailed off.
"So was mine."
Bringing you into a hug, he buried his face into your neck. "I didn't want to lose you too."
Quiet lingered after his words. Slipping your hands under his jacket, you smoothed your hands in comfort over his back.
"When does your patrol end tonight?"
"Around three, but I'll try to get back sooner.
"Text me beforehand, okay?"
"I will."
"But, um...what do we do with that?"
The both of you leaned back enough out of your embrace to view the discarded Batsuit.
"Uh..."
"Stuff it in a bag and give it back?" You suggested, half joking.
"Ha, yeah. I'll dump it off at the Batcave."
Your eyes widened and you stared at him until he rose a questioning eyebrow at you.
"There's a Batcave?"
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
Thank you for reading!!
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd#batfam#batfamily#bwfa#bwfa x reader#bwfa fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#red hood fanfiction#batman wayne family adventures#batman wayne family adventures fanfiction
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Hi! I'm so glad you're back, new chapter of Pizza girl was amazing as always, for me it's absolutely the best dc fic ever!
I especially love how the relationship between Jason and other characters feels heartbreakingly natural, how it isn't a case of "love magically cured trauma" but rather slowly and messyly opening up, and trying to heal with the help of right people at right time.
And as much as I cannot wait for Jason and pizza girl to have more straight up romantic shenanigans, I love how they started with gaining each other trust and building their friendship, I adore them as domestic buddies.
I have a question, if it isn't some kind of spoiler of course, at this point of the story, does Jason have (or wants to have) a life outside of his Red Hood persona? And I mean it half psychologically half practically (similarly to pizza girl, how does he earn money if being a vigilante isn't a source of income?)
But seriously, I find it heartbreaking that as much as he yearns for home, he still lives in safe houses, and I was so happy when he thought about asking Babs for help in looking for something more permanent for himself. And it fits into his fear of being traced of course, but got me thinking, in a more personal sense, does he have a motivations for living other than trying to make up for his mistakes as Arkham Knight?
Something like: does he realise that there's Red Hood who fights for those who can't do it for themselves, but there's also Jason who likes the smell of new books, has his favorite mug and favorite way of drinking coffee, has his favorite chair at the local library, who maybe has quiet and innocent dream to get a degree or his dream job and be loved and needed by someone?
Does he realise the second one exists and deserves to be cherished by him?
(Sorry if this ask is too much, I just now realised how long it got 😭 I will absolutely understand if you don't have time to answer this)
Anyway thank you for writing this amazing and captivating work, I can't wait for next chapters, whenever they'll be ready❤
In the meantime I hope you get time to rest and have fun! Stay safe!
This is a wonderful breakdown of Jason's character! To answer your question, does Jason have a life outside of his Red Hood persona?
No.
Does he want one?
Unconsciously, the answer is yes, but I don't think he can acknowledge it right now. For years following the Joker's torture, he's pretty much been in survival mode, keeping himself alive by being obsessed with a singular goal.
First, it was to kill the Joker and Batman, and then when he found out the Joker was dead, it was to kill Batman. Now, it's to seek redemption as the Red Hood. While he may have (somewhat) progressed from his days as the Arkham Knight, he's still clinging to the same unhealthy coping mechanisms.
It's a little (or a lot) like depression. He's so focused on getting through today and the next day and the next day that there's little room for anything else. Hobbies and friends and a place to feel at home in sound nice, but they also sound absolutely unattainable.
And he's lived with that mindset for so long that he's all but forgotten that there are different ways to live.
That's where Jason's head is right now.
Maybe one day, he'll progress enough that he'll be able to look around his safehouse, so sparse that it's no different from a prison cell, and he'll think to himself that he wants something more.
And it doesn't have to be anything big. Nothing so grand as the Wayne Manor. Just a small place, maybe above a bookstore. Maybe in the beginning, it's not so different from his safehouses. Just a mattress on the floor and a bathroom.
But then one day, he'll add something small. Some secondhand book he bought from the store for the change he had in his pocket. It's from an author he's never heard of before. The writing is a little clunky, but it's enough to pass the time while he's waiting for updates on his cases.
Maybe he reads it next to his window, by the light of the flickering street lamps, trying not to grimace at the way the hard wood is digging into his back.
Maybe one of his siblings or even the reader notices. She takes him to one of her favorite flea markets under the guise of buying a new rug. And he ends up taking back an armchair, so old that the stuffing is coming out in places.
But he makes do, the way he always has, he washes away the accumulated dust and dirt, he patches up the holes, and he places it next to his window. Where the street lamp shines just enough light to read by, even if it often flickers.
He opens his book, written by an author he's never heard of before. The writing is a little clunky in places. But for now, he thinks, it's enough.
(And maybe he'll read until morning. And maybe he'll realize, or maybe not: that the Jason Todd who used to spend hours in the Wayne Manor library, who had a favorite armchair by the fire, is still in there, somewhere.
And perhaps, he'll think--or perhaps not--that the Joker hasn't killed everything that he used to be. Perhaps there's still a little bit of Robin left in him.)
#jason todd x reader#jason todd analysis#Jason finding a place to call him days at the morisaki bookshop style#moving into the second floor of a bookstore owned by a sweet old man#giving him the cozy vibes he deserves UGH#lowkey makes me want to write something about jason finally getting a place of his own#as someone who was stuck in a depressive pit for a long time and still struggle with it on occasion this ended up being highkey personal#rooting for you jay#THIS MAKES ME WANT TO WRITE A SHORT ABOUT JASON FINDING HIS OWN COZY PLACE IN THE WORLD#NO CASES#JUST COZY VIBES
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✯𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟?✯
Notes: So like... @mjtheartist04's Little Red Riding AU, amiright??? 👀 This is just a little gift for my pookie 😚🫶🏻 gotta say this one's pulling me out of a writers block, so thanks for having such a clever dream, 'Jay!! 🩶❤️🩶
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"I don't believe in fairytales, Genya." Rika stated with a mear shrug, her eyes leaving the young innkeeper as she glances back at the picture etched into the aged paper of a wolf, baring its large teeth at a little girl cowering against a tree deep into dark woods. She closes the burgundy leather clad book, setting it back down atop the dark oak front desk that Genya had tapping his finger against, the tapping in sync with his anxious leg bobbing, causing small whines to leave the old floorboards.
He only grunts in response, his jaw taught as he almost seemed to be grinding his teeth behind his tight lips. It wasn't new to Rika about his behavior, but something about it of all nights felt... Off.
"What? Don't believe in the Big, Bad Wolf?" Genya stated - almost genuine, and Rika would have considered it so if it weren't for the slightly raising of his brows that implicated his comment was supposed to be taken with humor.
Rika returned it with a grin splaying across her lips, bringing a hand up to the end of her crimson colored hood, tugging at it like one would tipping a hat, the action causing some of her Prussian hair to fall at her shoulders from where it had been hidden behind the vibrant fabric. "If that were true, I wouldn't have a job, now would I?" She strides across the room, not leaving Genya's train of eyesight - both not daring to break it just yet.
"To say The Big Bad Wolf would be insinuating the folks around this village believe we're dealing with a Werewolf problem which, of course, is ridiculous." Rika says, Genya tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes squitning just a tad, as though he wasn't curious by the theory, but almost offended.
"Even then, the problem is as obvious as finding the difference between water and wine." Rika gives a lopsided grin, leaning a window at the front of the dimly lit inn.
"Sheep and other wildlife disappearing or found mangled is a simple conclusion: it's just a pack of hungry wolves - actual wolves, I mean. And they just need to be relocated or taken care of."
She turns to the window, using two of her fingers to pry open the dark fusia curtains, just enough to take a peek outside and see her horse chewing at a few weeds that had crept from a few floorboards beneath near the stone streets. For some reason, she didn't feel comfortable on the idea of leaving him out there any longer, wanting to get him to a stable soon before the sun had fully set in only a few minutes.
"Look at that moon... It's beautiful tonight." Rika spoke, her voice a little softer now, dual colored eyes trained on the full pale beauty in the night sky, glistening against her iris’s of blue and pink. "Wven in the dark of night, something about their always being a light, even behind murky clouds... It makes you feel safe, doesn't it?"
"Funny." Genya spits bitterly, his voice breathy and muttered - but Rika caught the venom, almost feeling as though it was aimed at her. "It's funny what the moon does to people." He finishes after a second of silence, now seeing he had Rika’s attention.
Genya's execcent tapping against the counter came to a halt as his nail dug into the carvings, making a small squeaking noise at the traction of his nail splintering into it. He pulls away from it, trudging toward where Rika once was, eyes trained on the book, his buckled boots dragging across the floor, making a noise that didn't bring comfort to Rika, her brows furrowing.
"For most, it brings comfort, a feeling of safety," he picked it up, flipping through the pages, his fingers skimming along the assorted jumble of paragraphs and such, matched with pictures and depictions- his dark eyes lingering on a picture of a man, almost in aogny as his body began to morph into a clawed, fanged, yellow-eyed beast.
"For others, it's a curse, an omen, a warning... For people like me." He snaps the book shut with a feirce 'crack!' As the pages collided shut once more- earning a little flinch from Rika, who had now forgotten her attention on the sky outside, and kept her cautious gaze on the man in front of her.
"Genya... You're scaring me." She speaks, her voice faltering ever so slightly to prove that point, but she still kept her ground, finding her hand slowly making its way toward the hilt of her weapon, hidden behind her cloak.
"I know." Genya bluntly confirms, finally standing to his full height instead of hunched over the table. Something about him made him almost look taller now. "I can hear your panicked breathing."
The statement had already set enough alarm bells off in Rika’s head, enough for her to start backing away from her close friend- which she immediately regretted, cause Genya must've taken it as a challenge, and with each step she took backwards, he took a step forward.
"What good ears you have." Rika would have said it in a sarcastic dry tone if it weren't for the tremor in her voice, keeping her vocals to a mere mumble.
The pit in her stomach grew deeper and steeper with each step, unable to tear her eyes from Genya, almost in fear that if she did, he'd take that chance and jump at her. Hell. She didn't even want to blink. She felt so... Hunted.
"The better to hear your pretty little heart racing with."
In that moment, watching the cautious steps he took, the way his body almost hunched like an animal hiding in bushes and trees, his eyes trained and laser focused, not a sound coming from him other than his voice. He was like an animal stalking.
And she was prey.
"I can see it too. See your heart pounding in your ribcage... I can see it all." His eyes were like empty sockets, nothing but a blazing gold in place of iris’s that put the dim candlelight in the Inn to shame.
"W-what good eyes you have." Again, Rika stated, and with each one, she was beginning to see a side of Genya she knew she wasn't supposed to see. As a matter of fact, one she was supposed to ever find out about.
"The better to gaze at that face of yours morph into fear." Genya explained almost subtly, like it was passing conversation, his voice low and quiet - different from his usual behavior and mannerism. Rika didn't like it. This wasn't Genya. This wasn't her Genya.
It only took one final step before Rika felt the sensation of the wall, and the pit in her stomach formed so large that she was surprised it hadn't swallowed her whole. The beating in her chest started to sound louder, thundering in her ears so hard in almost hurt. The grip on her weapon stayed firm- but that's where it stayed, her body almost frozen with fear and defeat, leaving her unable to draw put and ready herself for the ever coming attack.
And now, finally unable to escape, she watched helplessly as Genya got closer - painfully slow in doing so, as if he was enjoying the sight as she realized she was cornered and unable to run. Not this time.
His lips curled into something sinister, all teeth and no smile, suddenly, pearly white fangs on display, prodding from his dark gums, his jaw tense and causing the muscles along his neck and collarbone to strain.
"W... What big teeth you have." Rika swallowed thickly, her throat feeling suddenly dry, her body both hot and cold as a sweat begins forming on the back of her neck, and a chill slithers up her spine, like daggers drawing into her skin. Her face was hot, and she thanked heaven above it was too dark to see the red shade her skin had began to become.
At this point, Genya is already too close for comfort. His now clawed hands were splayed out at each side of her face, his face far enough Rika begin could examine the new features starting to become apparent under the moonlight still creeping through the sliver of opened curtains... But he was close enough she could hear the low growl emiting from his throat with his slow rise and fall of his chest.
Genya opened his mouth as though to finish this little banter of words between them, but he simply laughs, a low, slow laugh, his head lolling to the side as he brings his face close to the side of her own, his almost manelike hair tickling against her tan skin, causing goosebumps to ripple along her shoulder.
He brings his hand down from where it was perched, his knuckle barely brushing against her cheek, the cold meeting her warmth was enough to even make him shudder. Tugging a long strand of her dark hair from where it was hidden behind her pointed ear, playing with the strand between his fingers.
"Now that you believe it," He starts, his voice gravelly and low, animalistic, something she hadn't heard out of him before. "Tell me something, Rika..." His breath was hot against her ear, making her hiss ever so slightly between her teeth, trying to cock back from the feeling, but only making contact with his other arm, caging her in.
"Are you scared of the Big, Bad Wolf?"
#OMG THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE EEEE#I HOPE ITS GOOD!#I haven't seen the new season of KNY just yet so I hope I didn't make him too OOC!#ALSO JUST WANNA NOTE GENYA ISNT ALWAYS LIKE THIS IN THIS STORIES UNIVERSE#He just hasn't eaten anything since Rika showed up in fear of her finding out#So the 'evil/feral' side is beginning to come out now that he can't control it 👀🙈#🍒daily dose of cherry🍒#FOR MY WIFE#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#kny fanfic#kny oc#demon slayer#kny x reader#kny au#shinaguzawa genya#genya shinazugawa#genya x reader#genya x oc#bluerasberrymelon❤️🩵💜
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UNHOLY - Chapter Twelve
full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index
genre: supernatural au
characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned
tags: polyamory, smut, threesome, double penetration, poly negotiations, angst
length: 21,009
summary: with the help of renjun, the three of you finally get closer to reconnecting with yuta and ten
<-previous || next–>
The Watcher is still there the following morning. Stationed outside the rooms they put you, Mark, and WinWin up in. He’s sitting casually in one of the seats in the nearby lounge area, but he’s there regardless. Just as he was when you and WinWin went down to the Banquet hall for supper last night. He’d resumed his position when you returned from supper, and now here he sits still.
You’re sneaking out this morning.
WinWin was still asleep when you pulled yourself from the bed. Mark was gone, though you had the vague memory of him telling you before you fell asleep just a few hours ago that he was going out to explore the House again.
Curiosity was calling out to you, and it wouldn’t wait for either of your companions. You’d manifested a new outfit, one similar to what you’d worn yesterday, and you’d quickly pulled it on, laced up your boots, and walked out the door into the dawn light of the manor. Pleased with yourself for being so sneaky, you were disappointed to find that damn Watcher.
He lifts his hooded head when you step out, but other than that, he doesn’t move.
You close the door quietly, and without another glance in the Watcher’s direction, you take off down the spiral stairs. You all but run down them, hoping to outdistance the Watcher if he chooses to follow you. Maybe he’s not here for you; maybe he’s watching WinWin or Mark. Regardless, you run down the steps, zip around a corner, take a right, and bolt down a hallway. If he’s following you, he’d better be fast to keep up with you, but when you slow down and look over your shoulder, there’s no sign of him.
You slow fully to a walk, your footsteps muffled on the thick carpet of this hallway. Large windows look out over rainy fields of golden wheat; luscious red velvet curtains are pulled to either side of each window, doing nothing to mask the bright flash of lightning shooting across that sky. The thunder never reaches you, though you’re sure that wherever in the world that window is looking out on, the resulting boom must have been quite loud.
Turning away from the windows, you look at the doors that open off of this hallway. Many of them are shut, some are open only slightly, but each of them calls to your curiosity. Yesterday had only been a little taste of what this house holds. WinWin hadn’t let you go poking your nose through too many doors, but today you want to test them all.
The first door you try is locked, as is the second. The third opens into a completely dark room with furniture draped in dust covers. You continue down every room in that hallway, finding that the closed doors are all locked, and the doors partially opened have nothing of import inside. Disappointing, but you continue on.
You walk along a stretch of hallway that is open on one side with only a handrail keeping you from tumbling down what looks to be seven floors, meaning somehow you’ve gotten from where you were on what had felt like possibly the second floor to now the eighth floor of probably the school wing of this place. A short distance on, you open a door and find an empty auditorium or theater. You find open doors to rooms that are occupied, though you skirt quickly by those, and there are closed doors that you can hear quiet voices behind. And then there are still many, many empty rooms in this place.
You pass no one. The house is silent mostly, and you wander until the sun is rising through the windows that look out onto Purgatory.
Just as you’re considering calling your solo exploration at an end, planning to start the journey back to either the Banquet hall or to your room, you hear the sound of movement behind a closed door to your left. Shuffling footsteps, a thump.
Normally, you would leave it alone, except that you swear you hear your name.
Instantly your mind goes to Mark. It goes to the bully Watchers from yesterday. You’re not sure exactly what you can do against them, but you’re not about to stand idly by if it is Mark inside that room.
You push open the door and find yourself in a strangely completely empty room. It looks nothing like any of the other rooms you’ve seen here. The floors are just unfinished planks, and the walls were once apparently covered in plaster, though now the wooden slats show more than anything else. A mirror hangs crooked on one wall, along with an old sun-faded photograph of a handsome man smiling in front of the sea. There is no furniture unless a rug tightly rolled, covered in dust, and shoved against the wall beneath two windows counts. The view from this room looks out to an overgrown lawn, and through a wall of trees, you can barely make out the sight of a city street beyond. But it’s snowing out there, just on the other side of the window. Some of it has piled on the ledge, and it’s beginning to accumulate in the overgrown grass.
But the room is empty, though you know you just heard someone in here. There’s only one door, the windows firmly shut.
The silence feels less than still, as if someone had just left. You spin in a circle, but the empty shadows and the dust hide nothing.
“What are you doing?” A voice, right at your ear.
You jump, spinning around in fright.
Renjun stands there, smiling peaceably, his hands folded behind his back. “I always find you in strange places. Is there something I can help you with?”
You feel perfectly within your right to eye him suspiciously. “Where did you come from?” He hadn’t made a sound, though you can see his footprints right beside yours in the thick dust covering the wooden planks.
“I saw you come in here. Thought I’d see if you were looking for anything in particular or if you’re just wandering about like yesterday morning.” Renjun bounces lightly on his toes, then suddenly he walks towards the window, tracing his finger over the glass. “It’s pretty out there, isn’t it?” He glances back over his shoulder at you.
You nod. “I miss the snow. It used to be my favorite time of year when I would wake up one morning and the entire neighborhood was covered in untouched snow, just sparkling in the sunlight, waiting to be played in.”
Renjun looks at you for a moment longer before he faces the window again. “I’ve never played in the snow.”
“Never?” You walk forward to stand with him at the window. “That’s an experience I believe everyone should have at least once.”
“I don’t get out of the House much,” Renjun admits. He suddenly turns his back on the window with a sigh. “Can I show you something?”
You’re all about the exploration mindset today, so you don’t hesitate to agree, ready to go along wherever Renjun wants to take you.
He leads you out of the room and down the hallway. You find, as he begins taking twisting turns and stairs and even some of the secret passages hidden behind tapestries and portraits and false walls, you think you have a good idea of the general direction he’s taking you. Even though everything rearranges, you already feel like you’ve got somewhat of an understanding of how this place works. Renjun is slowly leading you down toward the ground floor, somewhere towards where he’d first found you yesterday morning in the unused ballroom.
Renjun brings you out to a long stretch of corridor where the walls are completely covered in tapestries and murals. At the far end of the hallway is a statue of marble that gleams in the sunlight coming through the windows placed sporadically along the hall. From this distance, you can’t quite tell what the statue is, but you can however see the nearest tapestry.
It’s not unlike one that you would have seen at Church or in the monastery your mother took you to visit. There is a male figure clearly representing God situated in the middle of the tapestry, and all of creation spreads out around him. Stars and moons, the planets, the Earth with all of its plants and creatures and people. The work is nothing abnormal, though it is very finely done.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?” You ask Renjun, moving by this first tapestry to the next. “Watcher artwork?”
“Not just artwork. It’s history. Watcher history.” He keeps pace with you. “Like I said, I don’t get out of this House much, and this tapestry hall has always been one of my favorite places. I like to see the stories that I’ve only heard about.” He lifts a hand to brush his fingers along the fabric of the second tapestry, but he stops just shy of making contact. “Do you want to hear them?”
You watch Renjun’s pretty and fine features — the way that his eyes lift to trace familiar patterns on the fabric, his lips twitching with a gentle smile — and then you see the glint of his silvery blond hair beneath the dark top layer, and the way that his eyes flicker between silvery and hazel when he looks over at you. Renjun cocks his head slightly to the side, as if to repeat his question.
You nod. “Tell me.”
Renjun smiles, and he points back over at the first panel on the wall.
“In the beginning was God,” he says.
“I’ve heard this one before,” you bump your shoulder against his. “I was raised religious, so the story of Creation is one that I’ve heard –”
Renjun cuts you off. “You haven’t heard this one.”
He lifts his hand, this time actually tracing the shape of a fox woven into the first panel. His history lesson resumes with, “God created the Universe, filling it with marvels of fire and ice, of gas and rock, of planets and moons and stars that glowed in vivid colors. The Universe was beautiful, but He was lonely. Thus, He begot the Earth. A treasure planet of His for the way that it gleamed in the light of its nearby Sun, warm and damp, ripe to bring forth life. He filled the world with plants, with animals, with people, with experiments and ideas. For a while the Creation entertained Him, but, as any great inventor or creator, He grew bored with His project. Watching the minutiae of life developing no longer interested Him, and therefore He created the Watcher.”
Now Renjun returns to the second panel, and you see the God figure now accompanied by a smaller figure, cloaked and hooded. The taller of the two has his hand held out, as if he’s gesturing towards the woven trees and birds and four-legged creatures.
“First came the High Watcher.” Renjun says, “A companion to God more than anything else. He listened, he learned, he understood his power and his responsibility. All was well. For a time, anyway.” Renjun walks along the wall, and you follow, studying the tapestries that he passes by, but doesn’t linger on. They depict the High Watcher’s study at the right hand of God. Sometimes there are people, just grotesque renditions of humans, and sometimes there are animals or other beings that you can only assume belong to the supernatural realm. You recognize a satyr, a mermaid, a winged woman.
“Pleased with the High Watcher, God took a step back to entertain Himself elsewhere. He left the High Watcher to watch over Creation.” Another few panels showing the cloaked and hooded figure of the High Watcher among God’s creatures on Earth. Slowly, you watch as the images woven into the panels shift. Suddenly there are fires, and then fighting, war and bloodshed. Renjun pauses in front of one that looks particularly brutal. The tapestry consists of a lot of reds, browns, purples, and oranges with minor splashes of other colors.
“The experiments of God and the humans did not get along. They fought each other, destroying each other.” Renjun folds his hands behind his back, gazing up at the wall hanging.
You look as well, regrettably. There you see some kind of beast that closely resembles a werewolf with its claws speared through a human, dripping gore to water the ground. There are carrion birds mixing with harpies in the sky. Small devilish red demons surround humans. Humans tear apart what at first glance appears to be a large cat until you realize it has the face of a woman. “If the High Watcher was meant to be watching over God’s creation, how could all of this happen?”
You close your eyes, just listening as Renjun explains, “There was only so much that the High Watcher could do. He was powerful, but he was only one Watcher. He couldn’t be everywhere, couldn’t see everything. When he witnessed the destruction the humans and the others were wreaking upon each other, he petitioned God for assistance.”
Renjun taps your shoulder, and you move forward, looking to the next tapestry. The High Watcher kneels in petition before God, hands held aloft with a tablet being offered to the taller figure. The next shows God and the High Watcher accompanied by several more figures. “First, God created Hell. He took the demons from Earth, and He gave them Hell, a place to reign and to punish. He created Heaven, a place of peace for those deserving. Lastly, God created the high-level Watchers to assist the High Watcher. These He trained as He had the High Watcher before them. They listened, they learned, they understood their power and responsibilities. These high-level Watchers received the freedom of control over their assigned areas of surveillance. They were intelligent and powerful, yet they aspired for more.
“This second generation of Watchers pooled their knowledge, they experimented with their powers, growing and developing until they possessed almost more power than the High Watcher himself. As the Watchers grew, so too did humanity and the experiments of God. They grew in number while the headcount of Watchers remained unchanged. It grew difficult to oversee everything, even with their abilities. The high-level Watchers went to the High Watcher, and once more he petitioned God for help.”
You watch the story playing out on the tapestries as Renjun leads you along, amazed to watch as the world and the people within it develop and expand. You look at depictions of the high-level Watchers descending towards the people on the ground, and they look every bit like an angel might, glowing golden, radiant. You see the high-level Watchers experimenting with their powers to transform shapes, to create things from nothing, they fly and they breathe underwater. To you, it seems that they’re attempting to possess all of the powers that God endowed on his experimental supernatural creatures.
“God created the low-level Watchers now.” Renjun continues without pause, “These He did not train. He passed them into the care of the high-level Watchers to train as they saw fit. The second generation of Watchers did not wish for their juniors to be able to overpower them. They wished for the new Watchers to remain their subordinates, therefore they passed on only as much knowledge as they wished to disclose while they still secretly developed their own knowledge, withholding their discoveries from the High Watcher and from God.
“In time, even the power of all the Watchers that were at that time was not enough to prevent the Wars Between the Races. The High Watcher was already old by this point, blinded by his visions of overlapping time – the past, present, and ever-changing future – and the high-level Watchers were buried in their endless pursuit of knowledge and power.” Renjun points at a painted mural that now takes the place of the row of tapestries. You see black cloaked Watchers on the ground among the warring humans and supernatural others while the high-level Watchers sit above in their glowing halos of gold, and the High Watcher sits shrouded in a dark corner of the image.
“The low-level Watchers were overwhelmed, so they bridged the divide between themselves and God, pleading with Him for aid in this War Between the Races wherein His Earthly creations were destroying each other.” A new mural, and this time a cluster of the black-cloaked Watchers climb the Heavens to lay their appeal before God, the next shows the Watchers in black standing once more on Earth beside Watchers in silver. “The Soldier Watchers were born,” Renjun explains.
You can’t help gasping as your eyes finally come to rest upon the statue here at the end of the corridor. You can’t believe you’ve already reached the end.
“Terrifying, right?” Renjun comments at the sound of your surprised gasp. “Soldier Watchers, arrayed in their silver, their dazzling crowns, wearing sun rays as weapons.”
Together you look at the statue that is exactly as Renjun has just described. The statue is carved out of some sort of gray stone, possibly granite, though the cloak is polished to an impossible shade of silvery gray, the folds of the cloak are embellished with actual silver. A jagged crown of obsidian, pearls, and diamonds sits atop the effigy’s head, and rays of sunlight pour through the window just behind this marvelous piece of art, radiating around this Soldier Watcher in a way that visibly mimics blades.
Renjun bows his head slightly, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s not performing the motion out of respect, but rather he’s looking at the base of the statue. A hemispherical base that is artistically and intentionally cracking, fracturing in places. “The Soldier Watchers tore the world apart,” Renjun’s voice is quiet as he says, “They split the natural from the supernatural, or the humans and the experiments. God divided the World, the Life and the Afterlife. Heaven and Hell already existed to some degree, but He created a new realm: Purgatory, the land of the Watchers, to observe safely from a distance, a place in which to decide judgment. He created a city on Earth for His supernatural children to live in peace, apart from His other children.”
Hell City.
Renjun turns to face you, and he startled, looking beyond your shoulder. Quickly you twist around too.
A dark figure is skidding around the corner, running along the hall towards you in a blur, and it’s only when he slides to a halt right in front of you, that you recognize Mark. You have only the briefest moment of recognition before his hand is around your wrist, and then you’re flying too. The world blurs around you in an uncomfortable sort of way, and then it resolves into a mass of gray in front of your eyes, which has you confused for a moment until you hear Mark’s breath beside you. You’re crouched right beside him, and when you turn towards him to find that there is a window behind you looking out over a sunny seascape.
Mark is panting, his hair windswept from his run, and he’s clutching your wrist tight enough that you can’t feel your fingers.
“Mark, what is—?”
He releases your wrist just to cover your mouth with his hand instead. “Quiet. I was being chased by a herd of Watchers.” He holds a finger to his lips.
As you listen to the silence, you do hear the distant thunder of racing footsteps, and then you hear Renjun’s voice just on your other side, a whispered, “Why’re we hiding?”
You spin around fast enough that your neck aches. Renjun crouches there, close enough that you’re shocked you didn’t know he was there before he spoke. You see that his fingers are curled around the edge of a stone plinth, and then you realize that Mark dragged you behind the statue of the soldier Watcher, where Renjun promptly joined you.
And then Renjun hears it too.
The footsteps and the voices.
His eyes go wide and his mouth forms an O of surprise. He scoots just a little bit closer to you, more securely hidden behind the statue. Mark tenses up, pulling you closer, a bit further away from Renjun.
None of you say anything or move at all as the Watchers come closer. You feel Mark’s cool hand still covering your mouth, his other hand rests at your waist. The Watchers rumble by and you hear their grumbling, rude voices — “What did that leech think he was doing?” and “Free to wander? Vermin like him should be locked up or just exterminated,” and “Next time I see that vampire, no questions asked. I’ve never met a vampire that wasn’t a piece of trouble.” — and it makes your stomach curl with horror to realize that they’re talking about Mark. You cover his hand at your waist, squeezing his fingers lightly.
Luckily, these Watchers seem to be young ones, and despite the fact that they’re called Watchers, they’re not very observant. They all run right towards the statue, but they take a left where a new hall stretches forward. Not one of them thinks to check if anyone is hiding behind the bulk of the Soldier Watcher’s statue. You, Mark, and Renjun watch in silence as the whole herd of Watchers run down the other hallway, and then they plunge together down a staircase to the floor below.
Mark lets out a breath, slumping down to the floor.
“Fuck,” he curses, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his cheek to the floor though he still clutches your hand in his. “Damn, I thought I was a goner when they started chasing me. I couldn’t run fast enough, I felt so sluggish.”
“That would be due to the animal blood,” Renjun says quietly. He’s not looking at either you or Mark; he’s still looking at the spot where the Watcher horde disappeared. “We don’t have human blood, so the blood the kitchen’s been sending up has been animal blood. I’ve read studies on vampires, and all the experimental studies show a decrease in the power of vampire skills is a result of the alternative diet.”
Mark opens his eyes slowly, red irises peeking out from half-opened lids. “I’ve never heard that before.”
Renjun shrugs. “How many vampires who drink animal blood do you know?”
You can read the answer plainly on Mark’s face. There aren’t many, if there are any at all.
When Renjun moves closer to you again Mark bares his teeth and hisses. Renjun actually rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m not one of them!” He insists. “I promise you, I don’t care that you’re a vampire. I’m not like the Watchers who have such a deep-seated hatred for vampires, hating your kind more than they hate anything other than a demon, maybe. You being a vampire doesn’t make you any less of an actual person, not to me. I don’t think it makes you evil or vile. So stop acting like I’m about to treat you like they do.”
Mark stares at him. “How can we possibly trust you? How are you not one of them? You live here, don’t you? You passively sit by and let them do everything they do, don’t you?”
Renjun’s lips form into a tight line. He stands up, still looking down at you and Mark, and then without another word, he walks away.
“Way to go, Mark,” you groan, pulling your hand away from him. “I like him! He’s nice, and he was teaching me about the Watchers. You and WinWin need to pull your heads out of your asses, honestly. He’s not a bad guy.”
Mark looks at Renjun’s empty spot, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he blinks. You wish you could know what he was thinking, but mind-reading is yet another skill that Yuta and Ten had failed to teach you before their arrest. Looking at Mark, you try to follow the instructions you’d received in one of the few lessons your demons had given you in mind-reading, but you get nothing more than maybe the slightest hazy vision of yourself from Mark’s perspective on the floor, but that could just be your own imagination’s conjuring.
After several moments, Mark sits up. “Do you really think we can trust him?” He asks. “Not to sound like WinWin, but you have been known to trust blindly too quickly. Don’t go,” Mark says quickly when you start to stand up. His hand falls on your knee, keeping you hidden behind the statue with him so he can say, “I just mean, I can see why you like him. He’s got a pure, trustworthy face. He does seem nice and friendly. I just… I find it difficult to believe that we can trust someone who lives in the House of the Watchers, who seems so comfortable here?”
But does Renjun really seem all that comfortable here? You feel like every time you’ve seen him he’s trying his best to be quiet. He seems secretive. And he hid when you and Mark hid, he seemed just as surprised and scared of the passing Watchers as you and Mark had. Yes, he knows a lot about the House, the Watchers and their history, but that doesn’t seem something that could make him untrustworthy. He’s been nothing but helpful since you first arrived.
“Why don’t we just try to find our way back to WinWin?” You say, and you do stand up this time. Peering around the edges of the statue, you see nothing but the empty halls, the murals and tapestries, and your shadow stretching along the floor from the light behind you.
“What about them?” Mark asks, rising to his feet. “You heard what they were saying. If we cross paths, I’m not at full strength.”
“Are you scared, Mark? Don’t forget who you are. You’re that badass boss from Hell City. Don’t let a few bully Watchers make you think that you have to cower behind a statue. Even at half strength, I’m sure you could beat them in a fight.” You shake your head. “We’ll be fine.”
The look on Mark’s face tells you that he doesn’t believe your words, but he follows you out from behind the statue regardless.
Navigating your way through the House isn’t as difficult as you would have thought. You recognize some of the spots you pass by, and while you know that they could have possibly reconfigured since you passed through, you and Mark seem to be making your way back towards the area where you’re fairly certain your spiral staircase up to your rooms is. Mark does make you hesitate at every corner to make sure there aren’t any Watchers lurking, which does slow down your progress a bit.
You feel like you must be nearly there when the sound of the bell calling the Watchers to breakfast sounds through the place. The gonging echoes along the corridors, vibrating the windows, and Mark grabs you and pulls you back against him. His back is pressed to the wall, and you’re pressed against him, your hands trapped between your chest and his. For a moment, you stay like that, frozen by the heat of his eyes locked on yours, your breath tangling with his as close as you are. It takes several long seconds until you gather your wits and pry yourself away. Mark’s fingers grapple with your shirt to pull you back, but you knock his hands away.
“It’s fine, Mark. They’re all going to be down in the Banquet Hall eating, not searching for you.” You turn around to look at Mark while you back away. “So let’s go while we can still make it back to the room without any of them seeing you. Once we’re there, you don’t have to leave again until the trial, if that’s what you want. But they’re all down at the Banquet Hall, so let’s move be—”
Your shoulders bump into something. Firmer than the nothing that you were expecting to be there, yet softer than a wall which is what you’re hoping for. And then you feel fingers curl against your arms. A chill creeps up your spine, especially when you see the pale, bloodless look of Mark’s face.
“We’ve been looking for you,” drawls a low voice.
You’re ready to put your fighting lessons with Mark and WinWin into effect. Your muscles tense, ready to break free of this man’s hold, to spin around and take him down so you and Mark have time to run.
Before you can do that, the Watcher forcibly turns you around to face him.
You see the black robes, the glint of silver at his shoulder. It’s that damn stalker Watcher. You squirm, trying to shove him away, but he doesn’t let go. Behind him, you can see two other black-cloaked Watchers.
“The High Watcher would like another audience. Please, stop struggling.” He releases you suddenly, and you stumble backwards. You likely would have hit the floor, except that Mark is suddenly there, arms around your waist while your shoulders brace against his chest. The three Watchers just look down at you, their veiled gazes burning against your skin, or maybe that’s just the feel of Mark’s icy fingers where your top has come untucked from your waistband, his cold skin against yours.
The stalker Watcher extends one hand, gesturing at you and Mark. “He will allow, this time, for your companion to come as well,” he announces. “Especially if it will make you come along more willingly.”
Is this some kind of a trick? You glance up at Mark, and he’s already looking at you.
“I don’t think WinWin would be too happy with me if I let you go with them alone,” Mark murmurs. “And I don’t see them letting us not go with them.”
He makes some valid points. It’s decided. You’ll go with them.
The three Watchers form a triangle around you and Mark, and they lead you back to the court room where you’d convened with the High Watcher just the previous morning.
Mark gasps audibly, a familiar reaction, as the Watchers bring you into the room.
The seats along the sides of the room, as well as the High Watcher’s throne, are vacant. Now three seats are positioned in the middle of the room where yesterday there had been only one, and you can’t help wondering if they’re dragging WinWin to this, or if the third chair was just an eventuality. You and Mark are herded right to the seats, and wordlessly, you take them.
Two of the Watchers drift back towards the doors. The stalker Watcher, however, remains. He stands close guard on the two of you, so close that you dare not speak, not that you think Mark would be listening anyway. His head spins on a swivel, eyes wide and mouth agape in awe of the room, of the rose window behind the throne, the dazzling shimmering light.
He’s still observing the room while you observe him, when the doors of the court room reopen, and the stream of Watchers and the High Watcher enter the room.
Several of the Watchers look rather annoyed, and you wonder if they got the chance to eat their breakfasts before the High Watcher pulled them away. He looks mild, pacing the length of the room steadily, expressionless. He doesn’t even spare you and Mark a glance until after he’s climbed his throne and seated himself as comfortably as that seat can possibly make him. His strange eyes stare out at you, but his gaze seems distant and distracted, seeing you and possibly seeing more.
You can’t help thinking of the tapestry hall, of Renjun’s stories. Looking at this wrinkled old Watcher, you can hardly believe that he’s so old, as old as Creation itself essentially. This man has convened with God, has observed humanity since the earliest days. He has lived through every great moment, every tragedy, the highs and the lows of time.
“You are probably wondering why I have summoned you back here today, aren’t you, my dear?” The High Watcher says in his raspy voice. Mark startles beside you, as if he’d expected to hear a different voice, or perhaps he hadn’t expected the High Watcher to speak at all. The High Watcher doesn’t even acknowledge Mark’s presence as he says, “We were curious about you. What can you do, dear girl?”
Something in his voice makes you sit up a little straighter. You put your hands on your knees and clear your throat. What does he mean by that: what can you do?
Your silence fills the room.
“Surely,” the High Watcher sighs, “Surely you understand your power? We would like to see.”
What do they want from you? A light show? Didn’t some of them already get a show of that yesterday in the library?
“Why do you want to see that?” Mark asks, and his voice sounds surprisingly croaky. He clears his throat. “I mean, she does what any basic demon can do with fire.”
You want to pinch him to tell him to shut up, but you can’t without making it obvious. The High Watcher’s gaze has gained some clarity. Every single other eye in the room is trained on the two of you. The stalker Watcher is still standing close at hand.
“I can produce fire, though I’m sure you’re already aware of that.” You lift a hand from your leg, summoning a flame hardly bigger than a spark to dance across your fingertips. It’s barely visible in the bright light of the room.
The High Watcher at last smiles, though it’s a grim rendition. “Yes, the incident yesterday. A mistake, on all sides.” He waves a hand in the air, as if trying to erase the event from your minds, but you can’t so easily forgive the Watchers that intended harm. “Your fire was quite a surprise, as you might imagine. And while it wasn’t welcome in our library, there isn’t much here to burn, if you wouldn’t mind a demonstration. We haven’t had much of a chance to witness demon fire in quite a long time. Some of the brothers haven’t ever had the opportunity to amaze at it.”
So you’ve been brought here as what? Some kind of circus freak? As an experimental study, like the studies on vampires that Renjun had mentioned earlier? And although there aren’t any books in this room, and not much here might be flammable other than the clothes you all wear and the chairs, there is one particularly flammable thing close at hand.
Mark sits beside you, staring over at you when you push to your feet.
Vampires and fire don’t mix. That’s one thing you’ve learned since arriving in Hell City. They’re quite flammable, and fire is the one thing that they can’t come back from. If the High Watcher wants to witness you going all-out with your demon fire, you’re not about to do it when Mark is in any sort of proximity to you. You won’t hurt him, just as you wouldn’t do it if WinWin was beside you, nor anyone else that you’ve met, excluding Ten or Yuta. If the High Watcher would be so kind as to bring the two demons out and have them stand beside you, you would do anything he asks of you, even if it meant turning yourself supernova.
“You just want me to show off a little demon fire?” You ask as you raise your hand again, this time summoning a ball of fire to roll around in the palm of your hand. It slowly expands until it’s swallowed your fingers, licking wild flames at the edges, like the corona of the sun. The heat of it kisses your cheeks, producing a faint breeze that plays with the loose hairs around your face.
The High Watcher’s smile twists into one of delight, and you can see your golden flames reflecting in his eyes. The Watchers along the ages of the room murmur in low voices to each other. Behind you, the stalker Watcher twitches, taking a step closer before he falls back again. You don’t know what any of this means, why they’re possibly so delighted by your relatively little light show.
Once the light fades, the heat in your palms all that remains of the small fireball, the High Watcher sits forward. “And what else can you do?”
You wish you could say that you didn’t spend all morning standing there in that long hall, testing the limits of your power for the amusement of the Watchers. You wish that Mark didn’t have to sit there beside you through it all. You wish that they would at least have brought you something to eat since you were feeling drained the longer it went on.
After a while you were exhausted and annoyed, and when new tricks were requested, you began to be openly hostile. You threw darts of fire towards the Watchers, slung around ropes of fire.
For the most part you kept yourself in check because you didn’t want to show them all of what you can do, so you kept your ability to teleport a secret. Some of the little tricks that Yuta and Ten had taught you, you kept those close to your chest too, but many other things you showed them because the High Watcher kept pressing you for more. He wanted to see it all, and the look on his face read like a child enchanted by a magician’s tricks at a party, enraptured as he watched you succeed in some minor shape-shifting as you stretch yourself taller into an almost ghastly shape, towering and curving forward with a leering grin.
It’s only when you finally collapse backwards into your seat, heart hammering, and the world growing slightly hazy at the edges that Mark leans over you, his cool hands on your cheeks.
“That’s enough,” Mark calls, twisting his head around to look over his shoulder. “You push her any further and you could kill her.”
“Yes, yes,” the High Watcher rasps. “We’re done for the day.”
When he looks back at you, Mark is the only thing you can see. His vibrant eyes are a dark shade of red, closer to brown. His eyebrows are drawn with worry, wrinkling the skin between. His hands push at your hair, touch your heated cheeks. “Don’t pass out, okay? WinWin will kill me if I bring you back unconscious.” He looks up behind you and says, “Can’t you get someone to bring her some food or something? She needs to get her strength back up.”
You hear the rumble of the court of Watchers getting to their feet, filing from the room, and you suddenly remember something very important. You find the strength to lift your head, and you peer around the room until you see the hazy shape of the High Watcher stepping down from his high seat.
“High Watcher!” You manage to push the words out. “One thing, please, before you go?”
You hear shuffling footsteps and the gentle thump of his staff on the ground, and then there he stands before you, hunched and ancient. The wrinkles in his face are deep canyons, and this close you can see that his eyes appear so strange because they’re glazed with age. His voice is still a hoarse rasp when he answers, “Yes, child?”
“Some of the Watchers, the student ones, they’re threatening my friend, Mark.” You gesture to the vampire in question, continuing, “Based solely on their prejudices, they are threatening serious harm to him if they cross paths with him. Can’t you do something about that?”
He nods. “I will make it known, that is not permitted. Guests are to be treated with respect. Causing undue harm has never been permissible for Watchers, nor for anyone.” He nods once more, and then looks behind you to who you can only assume is your shadow — the stalker Watcher. “Find the girl some food, and make sure they return safely. Good day to the two of you.” He bows his head and shuffles away, looking every bit the average old man.
Although WinWin was a bit pissed when the stalker Watcher silently returns you and Mark to the suite of rooms, he’s more grateful that you’re okay. He spent a good ten minutes or more hugging you, checking you over for injuries as Mark recounted the events of the morning. You felt fine since an elf runner from the kitchen had delivered food to you and a bottle of blood to Mark in the court room.
Most of the next few hours was just spent in the common room. Mark and WinWin confer in quiet voices while you doze in the window seat, basking in sunlight. You don’t really have any idea what they’re whispering about until you briefly wake from your light sleep, and you overhear WinWin say, “Their scents were strongest around that spot. So surely they must be keeping them somewhere around there, right?”
“Maybe.” Mark sounds deep in though, but you don’t dare to lift an eyelid to take a peek. If either of them notice that you’re awake they’ll get quiet again. “I still think they’ve got to be keeping them somewhere super secret. Like, somewhere that the fucked up rearrangement algorithm of this place would keep totally hidden unless you had, like, a key or the secret password.”
Their voices fall again, and sleep is pulling you back under, the kiss of the sun on your cheeks. You drift in and out for a while, but when you finally fully wake, you find yourself wrapped in warmth, cushioned on the sofa in WinWin’s arms.
He’s spooning you, face tucked against your hair, arms twined around you. His heart thuds against your back, but you can tell he’s not asleep. Mark sits across the room, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading a book by firelight. The sky outside is caught in the range of twilight, dim with heavy night falling fast.
As nice as it feels to lie here wrapped in WinWin, there’s a conclusion that you came to while you napped. You need to find Ten and Yuta, and you need to get out of here with them. Leaving sooner rather than later is ideal, especially after how today has gone. The chasing and threatening of Mark. The trial of your abilities by the Watchers. Their obvious dislike for Mark and WinWin both, while being apparently fascinated by you. You don’t like any part of this, and you want to find your demon boyfriends and get the fuck out as soon as you can.
After overhearing Mark and WinWin while you were supposed to be sleeping, your drowsing mind had done some thinking.
If you can find the dungeon, if you can locate Yuta and Ten, maybe you can teleport them out of here. You can get all of you out of this House, you can jump back through that pond in the forest, and you can run from it all, run from the Watchers and the trial and everything.
You don’t really want to just do research anymore. You want to break your boyfriends free.
So you bring that up right then, while WinWin hugs you a little tighter, while Mark looks up at you from over the edge of his book. “Let’s break them out,” you suggest. “Tonight.”
WinWin snorts. “Good idea, princess. And I’d be fully on board if we had even the slightest idea of where the hell we’re supposed to find them. We don’t know where they’re being held, do we? Mark and I have been theorizing, and we don’t know. And even if we did know, how are we supposed to find it? Everything in this House is confusing and constantly moving. Getting to them feels impossible, but even if we did get to Ten and Yuta, then how do you expect us to be able to get out of here without being caught? Do you think the Watchers don’t have measures in place for eventualities like that?”
He’s right. They probably do.
“But there must be something we can do?” You slip flat onto your back, staring up at the ceiling in here, which you’ve not yet realized it was so intricate until now. It’s crisscrossed with painted vines and flowers, some birds and butterflies tucked in between. “Don’t you think they’ve probably got a record, somewhere in that massive library, of where they keep their prisoners, and how the place is guarded?”
WinWin sighs, lowering his forehead to rest against the side of your head. “Do you want to go to the library? Do you want to look all night, will that make you feel better?”
“It’s got to be better than doing nothing!” You slide away from him and then sit up. “I don’t want to be here anymore, but we can’t just leave without actually trying to help get Yuta and Ten out of there.”
Mark snaps shut the book in his hands. “So we’re taking a night trip to the library?” He sits the book aside, “What are we waiting for?”
Truly, you’re hardly even surprised when halfway to the library, your stomach begins growling. Your last meal had been hours and hours ago, and you can still feel the effects of exhaustion from using so much power for all those hours this morning.
“Detour to the kitchen?” WinWin asks, his voice teasing and light. “I’m sure Miss Boa will have something for you.”
Mark, who you’d made sure to tell all about the kitchen adventure after you returned to your rooms the day before, agrees to a kitchen detour.
It takes a little bit of attempting to navigate and then mostly relying on WinWin’s nose to get you there, but soon enough you’re spit out into the hallway that holds the kitchen. The doors swing open easily enough when you step inside, Mark and WinWin following behind you. Only a few elves are working, kneading bread and working over the large fire. It looks just as cozy and smells just as comforting in here as it had before, and it takes only a few seconds before Boa appears.
Her face breaks into a smile. “Look who’s back. And you’ve brought your friend now.” She doesn’t hesitate to welcome your trio to the back of the kitchen, fussing somewhat like a mother hen when she hears your stomach loudly grumble. “Take a seat, take a seat,” she says, fanning you through the kitchen towards the dim corner where the tables are.
The kitchen isn’t nearly as bright as it had been on your first visit. The fire isn’t burning nearly as high and there’s no sunlight to pour through the windows, but even so, you can make out the shape of someone already sitting at the tables. At first glance you assume it’s the ancient elf still, but as you draw closer you realize that you are wrong. It’s not an elderly elf sitting there, but rather a young one.
“Renjun!” You slide down into a seat at his table before anyone can object. He looks up, first at Mark, then WinWin, before his gaze settles on you. A light smile rises to his lips.
Mark sits beside you, offering Renjun a smile. You suppose maybe he’s decided that Renjun isn’t so bad after all. WinWin, however, harrumphs a little and still shows Renjun a cold shoulder as he takes a seat as well. Boa returns to the table, bringing still-warm bits from dinner, some wine, some pastries. Renjun’s already picking at a plate, which he returns to while you and WinWin serve yourselves from what Boa has brought over. She excuses herself after dropping off enough food to feed you all more than enough, and she returns to her cooking duties, and Mark watches as all of you eat in silence.
Mark can’t seem to stand the silence, so after a moment he begins talking, and in his talking, he tells Renjun about your plan to visit the library. He doesn’t tell him exactly what you all are looking for, and Renjun doesn’t ask, but he does however agree to help you three find your way to the library.
“It’s better to go around this hour, or any time through the night. The novices, they don’t visit much after dark. They’ve got other Watcher lessons then, like astronomy and stuff.” He pops a cherry into his mouth, then says, “So there shouldn’t be anyone there to harass you this time.”
WinWin doesn’t seem to like the idea much of Renjun tagging along, but you point out to him that it’ll be much faster to have Renjun guide you through this House that he clearly knows well, than for the three of you to wander the halls aimlessly until you happen upon it. So, after you’ve eaten your fill, Renjun leads the way out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to Boa on the way.
The library, as well as the hallways on the way there, is dark. Night has fully settled in around the House, and although some of the windows offer you different views, it’s dark in all of them. The library at least has orb-lights at the ends of the rows and at each of the little study tables to provide enough light to see by. The rows of bookshelves appear entirely empty, as if all of the Watchers have disappeared for the night, not that you mind.
You all divide to look through the shelves, similar to the day before, though this time there’s no stalker Watcher lingering in the aisle with you as you search, and this time WinWin allows you to put at least an aisle between you and him, though you know he’s keeping an eye on Renjun, not trusting him enough to let him out of his sight while you’re freely wandering. You end up with a stack of books once more, and when you bring them to a table to begin flipping through them, Mark and Renjun are already sitting there, poring over the books.
“They guard their secrets well,” Renjun is telling Mark when you arrive. “But I’m sure there are records of past trials, Watcher laws and mandates, and all that sort of stuff here somewhere. I’ll be back.” He flits away from the table, darting towards a winding, narrow staircase that leads up to the second level.
WinWin joins the table after a few more minutes with his own stack of books as well as a couple rolls of parchment, all of which he spreads out at one end of the table and begins to quietly peruse. This is how the next couple hours pass, filled with the silent turning of pages, the occasional scribble as one of you finds something interesting to jot down on the bits of note paper that are provided on the table. Renjun returns occasionally to drop off something new, never lingering long, and you’re fairly certain it’s because WinWin glares at him each time.
You’re not exactly sure how much Renjun knows about what you’re looking for. You don’t know if Mark told him the truth, a partial truth, or if he just drew his own conclusions about what the three of you are trying to find here in the library, but you appreciate his help regardless.
On the few occasions that the doors of the library do open through the night, Renjun makes himself scarce, and you wonder what his personal aversion to the Watchers is. You understand because you hate the way that they look at Mark and WinWin, the things they say, and how they look at you too, especially after the impromptu showcase you’d given the High Watcher this morning. Luckily, no one bothers you three in the library, and you ignore all of them anyway, too intent on your research to care about what’s going on around you. Surely, somewhere in all of this vast repository of knowledge, there’s some record of where you might be able to find where the Watchers keep their prisoners.
Mark seems to be looking mostly at trials through history, WinWin’s books and scrolls cover a little bit of everything. You’re mainly focusing on the architecture of the House, mixed in with other historical tidbits. None of you seem to be making much progress as the night goes on.
At one point, when both Mark and Renjun are away, WinWin sighs loudly and lays his head down on the book he’d been flipping idly through. He doesn’t lift his head, but he does turn his head so he’s looking at you. His eyes glitter in the low light.
You lay a hand on his cheek, and WinWin’s eyes flutter shut with an exhale.
“I’m tired,” he admits.
“Then sleep. We’ll wake you when we leave,” you tell him, but WinWin shakes his head. “Do you want to go back to our room?”
That makes him crack an eyelid to take a look at you. A small grin starts to form. “Will you come with me?” One of his hands slips down from the table to rest on your knee. “You know, I’ve found I sleep much better when you’re there beside me.”
It’s a weak attempt, but it makes your belly flutter a bit. “I’m trying to research, Win.”
He sighs and turns his head just enough that he can brush his lips along your wrist. You slide your hand away from his cheek, fingers curving over his neck instead while he smiles softly at you. “Mark and that guy will still be here. We can return in the morning. But I wanna sleep, and I wanna sleep with you.”
“Oh, okay, this was a weird point to come back to,” Mark grumbles as he appears from nowhere to drop into the seat across from you.
You pull yourself away from WinWin who sits upright, but he keeps his hand on your knee beneath the table. It’s distracting, really. Even once WinWin has turned his attention back to the texts in front of him, once Mark is thumping open a dusty, heavy book, you can’t bring yourself to focus on the words in front of you anymore. It’s some boring diary of a Watcher who studied architecture, and although you’d thought it seemed promising when you pulled it from the shelf earlier, it mostly seemed to be him talking about minor details and how to make new, modern additions — such as a refrigerator in the kitchen. He did, at least, write about the shifting windows, explaining it as some Watcher magic to be able to look out into the human world, to keep an eye on things.
It’s not long before your eyes are drooping, head bobbing as you dip off to sleep for seconds at a time. Mark notices first, before anyone else at the table, and his foot nudges your leg beneath the table.
Your head snaps up, and you blink until the world isn’t so hazy anymore. Mark’s eyes are wide, dark in the dim library lighting, just as soft as his affectionate smile. “Why don’t you and WinWin go back to the rooms, go to sleep?” Mark suggests. “Renjun and I can stay up a bit longer.”
Renjun sits brightly at the end of the table, looking totally refreshed and awake, smiling a bit when he looks up at you. “I’ll make sure that Mark gets safely back to you. We’ll take secret passages and the like so no bully Watchers try anything,” he promises.
That’s good enough for you. You nod, agreeing to go. You could definitely fall asleep right now if you laid your head down on the table.
“Let’s go,” WinWin says as he pushes his chair back from the table. His warm hand takes hold of yours, swallowing your hand in his to pull you from your seat before you can change your mind about going. WinWin doesn’t let go of your hand, not once you’re on your feet, not when you’re leaving the library, and not at any point after that. He simply holds your hand and strolls with you through the candlelit or moonlit corridors. You pass by Watcher night classes, by a wood paneled room where it seems several of the black cloaked Watchers are having a meeting, by a disturbingly accurate and life-sized portrait of the High Watcher that looks so realistic in the moonlight that you swear his eyes move, by a room with a closed door that you can hear metallic clashing and thumping sounds that really make you want to take a peek inside, but WinWin pulls you away.
You find it surprisingly easy for you and WinWin to navigate your way back to your rooms. Soon enough, you’re walking along the hallway that meets the top of the spiral stairs, the door to the common room right there. As soon as you’ve stepped over the threshold, your drowsiness returns in full force.
“Come to bed,” WinWin singsongs, tugging lightly at your hand to bring you through the door of the yellow bedroom. You follow. You pull your outfit off in pieces until you’re clambering into the bed in nothing more than your underwear. A moment later, WinWin climbs in on the other side, the heat of his bare skin meeting yours.
He hesitates to touch you more than just a simple brush of limbs beneath the sheets.
You sigh, reaching over, and you pull his arm around you as you scoot closer. There’s a dip in the mattress that pulls you fully against him, not that you’re complaining. It feels nice to be so skin-to-skin with him, just the barest thinnest layers of clothing preventing every inch of you from being in contact.
“Tomorrow,” WinWin promises with his lips against your hair. “Tomorrow we’ll find them, I’m sure of it. Then we’ll get the hell out of here and go home, all five of us.”
You press your cheek to WinWin’s chest, over his steadily beating heart which beats a little faster with your breath making condensation against his skin. “I hope you’re right, WinWin.”
He kisses your head, wraps his arms a little tighter around you, and slowly you let your drowsiness overwhelm you at last.
The windows in the morning fill with bright sunlight. It paints the insides of your eyelids the color of honey and amber, kisses your lips and wraps you in its warmth. You’re reluctant to open your eyes, not wanting to break the cozy spell you’re in, don’t want to ruin the moment. But it’s the sudden sound of a voice outside the yellow bedroom’s door that does it.
Your eyes snap open.
WinWin groans.
His hand presses flat against your belly, dragging you back towards him. His forehead nudges your shoulder. “Don’t move. Let’s stay for a little longer.” His lips touch at your bare skin. “You disappeared on me yesterday morning, don’t you think you should stay with me just a few moments longer?”
You stay, but it’s not because of his persuasive skills.
You swear you can hear distant birdsong. There’s the closer sound of a voice speaking out in the common room, and it’s Mark’s familiar tone, and although you wonder why he’s out there talking, the subtle heat of the sunrise pairs nicely with the less-subtle heat and press of WinWin’s body at your back.
You stay like that until you become aware of the vital need to relieve yourself — just a small nuisance one moment, and then all you can think about the next. WinWin whines when you first try to push his arm away so you can get up. He holds you closer.
“Stay,” he sleepily pleads.
“If you don’t let me up, I’m going to piss on you,” you hiss, struggling to push away his iron grip.
WinWin lets you go, but as you scurry over to the en-suite bathroom, WinWin calls out, “Was that a threat or a promise, princess?”
You only glare at him over your shoulder before closing the bathroom door, his laughter sounding from the bed.
When you re-emerge from the bathroom a few moments later, WinWin is sitting up on the edge of the bed, his arms stretched above his head as he twists from side to side to crack his back and stretch his muscles after sleep. You stand captivated, watching the way his muscles move, the way the sunlight runs along his spine. WinWin tilts his head, and it takes you far too long to realize that he’s watching you watching him.
He’s on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in long strides to stand in front of you. WinWin cups your cheeks in his hands, tipping your chin up. “You look so pretty this morning,” he says softly, his eyes molten amber in the sunlight, melting against yours. “Cute when you’re flustered.”
You let your gaze drop. “What makes you think I’m flustered?”
His fingers brush over your cheeks, heat rising to meet his touch. He doesn’t answer your question aloud, but he does step away from you and gesture towards the door. “Why don’t we go see if Mark found any answers while we slept?”
You look away from WinWin, pushing down the wave of wanting that fills you right then. You want to hold his hand against your cheek a little longer. You want to lie in bed with him. You miss proximity and intimacy; you miss that warm glow of being in love, the sensation of feeling full in a way that you haven’t felt since Ten sent you away on that Hell City street. With WinWin, you’re starting to feel that cold spot start to warm up again, each day allowing yourself a little closer to him.
WinWin walks ahead of you, swinging open the bedroom door to the common room.
Mark lifts his head, a smile already on his lips. And beside him, perched on the edge of the window seat, is Renjun. WinWin immediately tenses up, stepping in front of you to block you. A growl rumbles from his chest.
“What’s he doing here?”
“I let him in,” Mark says plainly. “We’ve been—”
“You let him in?” WinWin interrupts, pulling away from you to stalk toward Renjun sitting in silvery sunlight on the bench seat. “This is meant to be a safe place, Mark, do you not remember what we’ve discussed before?”
You step around WinWin, leaving the doorway behind you.
Mark shrugs. “I remember. I don’t think it applies to him.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” WinWin is all tense, muscles wound tight. “We’ve been here for days now, and when have any of them shown us even an ounce of respect? We’ve seen a dozen examples of how much all of these damn Watchers hate us. They are rude, violent, watching us and just waiting for the chance to pounce.” His eyes flare as he stares at Renjun. “Even after your High Watcher welcomed us, they’ve all been dicks.”
Renjun stares back with a flinty look in his eye. “He’s not my High Watcher. I’m not a Watcher, not really.”
WinWin snorts derisively. “You live here, don’t you? That makes you one of them.”
“I think you’ll find it doesn’t.” Renjun’s eyes change colors, pulsing between hazel and silver, flickering back and forth for a moment. “They dislike me just as much as you, but they keep me here to keep a close eye on me.”
Again, WinWin opens his mouth with a retort sharp on his tongue, but Mark interjects.
“I think he can help us.” Mark lifts himself from his seat, stepping in front of WinWin to stare the werewolf in the eye. “If you would shut the fuck up for a second, maybe hear him out, you might agree with me for once.” Mark pushes at WinWin’s shoulders, propelling him toward an open armchair, which he collapses into the moment the backs of his knees make contact.
You walk deeper into the room, settling on one end of the cushy sofa Mark is sitting on. Renjun looks at you, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips. His eyes settle, one left silver, one brown to match the two-tone color of his hair. You know that WinWin doesn’t like Renjun, and up until probably last night, you’re pretty sure that Mark didn’t like him either. But you like Renjun, you enjoy his company. He always seems nice enough, if a little odd.
“Tell them what you were telling me,” Mark says to Renjun.
Renjun nods. “Well, like I said, I’m not really a Watcher. My father was a Watcher, so I was raised here and given an education by the Watchers. But they don’t want me to become one of them, and I don’t want to either. These people are so strict in their thinking, it’s like after thousands and thousands of years of policing the world, they’ve let the power go a little too much to their heads.”
He takes a breath, and you can tell that he’s about to plunge into a story, like he’d done the previous day for you in the tapestry hall. “The history of the Watchers is vast. They’ve ended civilizations as easily as starting others. They sank Atlantis, relegating the merpeople of Earth to live beneath the sea after their relations with humans were growing too close. They unleashed diseases to wipe out a village of magic-makers a few hundred years ago. They’ve basically forced all supernatural beings to live in just your Hell City, partially out of convenience so it’s easier to keep an eye on you all, but also as a way to suppress your people. Originally, God intended the city to be a safe haven for the supernatural, but He didn’t consider that it could just as easily become a prison with the Watchers as the wardens. They abuse their power. I’ve been a witness to that here, in the way that they force the elves here in Purgatory to do labor for them, imprisoning them for decades if they refuse.”
WinWin silently watches Renjun, his eyes fixed on the elfin man, watching his face closely for any signs of this story all being a lie.
Renjun continues, ignoring WinWin’s scrutiny. “They’re not all bad. The Watchers. But for every good Watcher that would help you to your feet when you’re down, there are ten more that would knock you back flat on your ass. For every one that sees the value of a life inside of us all, there are a dozen that just sees a monster to be put in its place. My father, was a Watcher, and I like to think he was one of the good ones. In some regards he definitely was, I mean, he fell in love with my mother.”
You’ve been curious about Renjun’s story since that first morning, and you sit up a little straighter, full of anticipation to finally hear it.
“My mother was an elf from a small village deep in the mountains and far to the north in your world. My father and a few other Watchers were sent to demand labor when God finally created the separation between Earth and Purgatory. You don’t get a place as extravagant, ever-changing, and indefinitely growing as this House without a little indentured servitude, and the elves were being brought in to Purgatory on the belief that they would receive the protection of the Watchers, would be received here in safety from those that would destroy them in your world—the humans hungrily encroaching on their territory, the supernatural creatures that ran to the mountain ranges to hide and thought that slaughtering elven villages was a good idea. So the elves, including my mother, were promised safety here in Purgatory for labor, freedom from the monsters.
“Of course it wasn’t long before many of them grew to understand there are monsters here as well.” Renjun’s hands ball into fists, and he draws his feet up onto the bench seat, making himself appear very small as he wraps his arms around his legs, his knees against his chest. “The Watchers quickly showed their lack of empathy for the plights of the elves. Elves are strong and immortal, but we have our limits. Working endless stretches of hours for days on end, performing manual labor to quarry stone for this house or forging iron railings or imbibing hot glass with magic. The Watchers were demanding, unrelenting. They beat those that attempted to take a break, and it was very quickly apparent that coming here had been a mistake.”
“Why didn’t they leave?” You ask, finding your voice.
Mark glances over at you. “How could they? I’m sure the Watchers had a tight hold on them, always working them or watching them.”
Renjun nods. “Some of them had easier jobs than others, some of them were just happy to live in ignorant bliss of how they were being wronged by the Watchers. Millenias passed, and each day the elves grew a little more broken down, a little more crushed beneath the heavy boot of the Watchers. Until finally, a few of them did escape, though. They broke free, slipping away in the night, and running as fast as they could through the forest. Elves are faster than any Watcher. They weren’t even sure they were being pursued, but they ran until they came upon a clearing, a pond perfectly centered in it. Back then, that’s all it was. Just a pond, shallow with a muddy bottom and roots. But elves have magic, powerful magic, and in a great moment of need, they can do amazing things. The four escaped elves pooled their magic, and they opened a portal back into the world they had once known. They emerged in your Hell City, which was a nightmare and a blessing in equal measure. Suddenly they were surrounded by all of the creatures they had fled this world to escape, but also they were in a city full of beings that hated the Watchers. Somehow, this feared place was a safe haven, offering safety in sheer numbers, and the elves went into hiding in the city.
“My mother was among them, in case you couldn’t figure that out from me having all of these details,” Renjun says, “and my father was one of the Watchers sent out to hunt down the escaped elves and return them. You can’t break an indenture, you know. So my father hunted through your Hell City, high and low for any sign of the elves. He had more reason than the other Watchers to find them. He was looking for her.”
Outside the common room’s door, you hear voices rising up the stairwell, a group of them. Renjun freezes, shrinking even more into himself, staring at the door in clearly-felt fear. A group of Watchers climbs up the spiral stair, approaching this room, and you all sit in quiet, waiting to see if they’re coming here.
Their voices luckily pass the room, continuing on through the space out there, down along the hallway that curves out of sight. Renjun sighs, resting his forehead on his knees.
“My mother never told me exactly how or when my father and her fell in love, but it was while she was here in Purgatory, and she insisted that it was love. It wasn’t forced on either end, it wasn’t an arrangement made out of proximity or convenience. They fell in love in the middle of all of that, and she discovered at some point shortly before the escape, that she was pregnant. She had only just told my father the morning before she and the other elves made their escape. So when he came into the world, he wasn’t searching for escaped indentured elves, he was searching for the elven woman he loved and me.”
“Sounds like a fairytale,” WinWin remarks quietly, a tone of bitterness in his voice. “Or a story I’ve heard before. How do we know you’re not making all of this up?”
Renjun’s gaze turns sharp, directed exclusively at WinWin. “Why would I be lying about this?”
WinWin shrugs. “To win our trust.”
“Stop it. Let him finish.” You reach over, knocking your hand against WinWin’s arm.
Renjun continues after a moment, saying, “When he found us, it was months later. The elves had spent over half a year hiding in Hell City. I had just been born. My father said he found us based off a paternal guidance, a Watcher’s knowledge meeting a father’s intuition. For months afterwards, he misdirected the attentions of the Watchers, steering them far away from us, hinting at rumors that the escaped elves had fled the city to return to their mountain villages. All the while, he would visit as frequently as he could, doting on me, caring for us.
“But Watchers take a vow of celibacy and a vow of antifraternization. Of course, the celibacy vow is broken semi-regularly by Watchers. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of gods and angels and aliens coming down from the heavens to have relations with human women and men, sometimes even producing offspring? That’s one thing, when it’s only human, when the child produced is only human. The tales of demigods are exaggerated, wishful thinking of the mothers. But a Watcher and an elf? That hadn’t happened before in all the recorded Watchings of history. I was special.”
At that, Renjun grins a little cocky and pleased. Mark laughs, you smile, and WinWin just rolls his eyes. But Renjun continues with his story.
“Watchers don’t fall in love. They don’t have families, even when they do happen to procreate. They certainly don’t fall in love, have a baby, and want to create a family with an elf of all things in the goddamned world. His absences from Purgatory began to become noticeable. Stretches of time where he couldn’t be accounted for. Half-caught glimpses of him by the other Watchers who oversee Hell City. Eventually, it was all put together.
“The Watchers came for us when I was three years old. They imprisoned my mother, imprisoned my father, and they took me in as a ward. I was an oddity to the Watchers. Half-elven, half-Watcher. They had to keep a very close eye on me to make sure that I didn’t slip away through a mirror portal or appear as a divine baby to a congregation of humans on earth. Apparently I did slip away quite a few times, always found in the dungeons visiting my parents, somehow slipped inside their cells despite the wardings on the bars. The blend of powers inside me was giving them surprises. The encouragement of both my mother and my father only made it worse for the Watchers. They would find me in the cells early in the mornings, after I’d been in there all night, learning elven magic from my mother or being whispered the secrets of the Watchers by my father. Eventually, one of the Watchers figured out a warding so powerful that it could actually keep me out of the dungeons entirely, cutting off my access to my parents.”
“And where are they now?” You ask. “Still down there?”
The slump of Renjun’s shoulders answers your question first. He shakes his head. “No. To the Watchers, there are only two results in a trial: innocence, which means life, or guilt, which means imminent death and destruction. My parents received their guilt sentences when I was five years old. My father was stripped of his rights as a Watcher, and the expulsion from the order crippled him until he was but a shadow. Literally. I was forced to watch,” Renjun says, his voice taking on a hollow tone, and his eyes fall into shadow. “My mother’s death was quick, my father’s was long. He withered, fading from existence, writhing in pain. That is how a Watcher dies, stripped of immortality.”
Empty silence reigns for a few moments. Even the fire in the fireplace doesn’t make a sound. Raindrops that spray against one of the windows only run silently down the glass. Eventually Renjun sighs and picks up his story again.
“After that, the Watchers kept me under tight surveillance. They kept me away from the elves in the kitchen for as long as they could. They took on my education, I think in an attempt to brainwash me into blind loyalty. But they had killed my parents. I wasn’t likely to forget that. They hated me for being different, but their curiosity is what has kept me alive. They’ve studied me all these years, like a specimen that they would gladly dissect and tear apart at the first opportunity. They don’t get the chance to study half-breeds like me very often. In all of history, there have only been a handful of people that are half-Watcher and half-supernatural. The human ones hold little interest anymore. I only know a little bit about the halfbreed history, since the Watchers don’t talk about it much, preferring for me to believe I’m alone, just a freak or an oddity.
“So, all of that whole long story is just to say: you should trust me. I have no loyalty holding me to the Watchers. I’m a prisoner here only slightly less than your friends in the dungeon are. So, do you trust me?”
This last question Renjun directs to WinWin, the pair of them staring each other down. You and Mark exchange a look, both of you wondering what WinWin’s answer will be. The silence stretches, uncomfortable and awkward once it hits the one minute point. Mark fidgets in his seat, opening his mouth after a while to say something, but WinWin beats him to it.
“Can you show us to the dungeon? Even if you can’t get inside?” WinWin asks.
Renjun nods quickly. “Yes. That’s something that Mark and I were just talking about. If you’d told me before that the dungeons are what you were looking for, I could’ve taken you there last night instead of wasting time in the library. The warding against me was lifted after my parents were sentenced. But the entrance to the dungeon is tricky. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things tend to move here. Hallways and staircases and all that. The rooms stay constantly in their set hallways, as do the tapestries and statues. But the entrance to the dungeon is a bit different. It’s hidden for good reason, and because it’s hidden so well, it often moves locations around the House.”
Mark nods, then says, “Just like we suspected. Why wouldn’t they hide it in an even more complicated way than the rest of this house hides its secrets?”
Renjun looks at him, then WinWin, and finally at you. “It is hidden, but it’s actually not all that difficult to find. They have the doorway hidden behind a life-sized portrait of the High Watcher.”
Simultaneously, you and WinWin turn to look at each other. He’d just seen that portrait on your way back from the library. You’d both passed right by it, unwittingly missing Ten and Yuta by meters.
“We saw that. Just last night.” WinWin stands up. “Will it still be there?”
Renjun shakes his head. “No. The house is rearranging constantly. On average things move once a day, but some of the more, um, secure areas move probably every hour or two. Some sections of the house stay more constant, like the entrance hall with the banquet hall and the solarium. Those have only changed once in my time here, just like the staircase outside here. If things changed up too much it would confuse everyone. But there is a pattern to the madness though. Wait long enough, days or weeks maybe, and something will be right back to where you first saw it. Sometimes things will move to the opposite side of this place or just shift one hallway over. The House has many secrets, and I’ve been working hard these last twenty years to uncover all of them.”
“So are you saying we have to wait days or weeks to find the entrance again, or can you show us to it?” WinWin growls, his irritation resurfacing. “We have just two days before they go to trial. We still don’t even know what they’ve done. What damn good are you if all you can do is dangle a little hope in front of us before ripping it away?”
“WinWin,” you keep your voice low. “Go cool off. He’s helping us, so stop jumping down his throat.”
WinWin turns his hot stare towards you, softening the moment his eyes meet yours. “Don’t you want answers? They’re your boyfriends.”
Of course you want answers, and Renjun is offering the answers to you. You just have to be a little patient. “Go cool off,” you repeat.
WinWin stands, stalking over towards the closed door of the unused blue bedroom.
“I wouldn’t use that one if I were you,” Renjun calls in warning as WinWin’s hand touches the doorknob. “Mirrors have powers here. Those are Watcher mirrors filling that room, so you never know what’s going to come in through them or get pulled out through them. Or who’s listening or watching on the other side. I would advise keeping that door closed at all times while you’re here.”
WinWin turns on his heel, crossing the common room back to the yellow room you’d slept in last night, but he freezes in the doorway, turning back to look at the three of you. He hooks his thumb back over his shoulder. “What about the mirror in here?”
Renjun shrugs. “I don’t trust any of the mirrors in this place.”
WinWin steps back, snapping that door shut, and he walks over to the open doorway of the green room. You watch as WinWin looks around cautiously from the doorway, then he takes a step inside, looking around some more, and finally satisfied that the green room has no mirrors, he walks inside and disappears into the tiny en-suite bathroom.
As soon as WinWin is gone, Renjun sighs, unfolding himself from the tight knot that he’s worked himself into while telling his story. “So, to answer his question, it won’t be weeks or days. I do have an approximation of where the entrance probably is right now, where it’ll be tomorrow at various points throughout the day. But, I also know that with the three of you here, they’ve got guards stationed everywhere. There’s one that pretty much follows you lot every time you leave these rooms, and he would definitely stop you before you could reach the dungeon entrance. You wouldn’t stand a chance at getting in to even see or speak to those demons, let alone break them out or whatever you intend to do.”
“I just want to see them! I want to talk to them. I know breaking them out has got to be nearly impossible, but just getting the chance to be with them before their trial? There must be something we can do.” You stand up, unable to sit still right now. Not now that you know what the entrance to the dungeon looks like. You want to leave this common room, to search the entire House for it, and damn the Watchers who would try to stop you.
Renjun and Mark both watch you pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.
After a while, Mark finally sighs and looks at Renjun. “You can get her to the dungeon right? Even with that Watcher that follows us everywhere, if he was taken care of, could you get her inside? Down to see Yuta and Ten?”
Taken care of, he says, and those words make your blood run cold. In what way would he take care of them? Sometimes it’s so easy for you to forget who Mark is, that he’s the boss of a whole coven, the operator of a dozen different underground establishments of Hell City. You know he’s probably had to take care of problem-people before, but you’ve never really thought about it. The idea of what he might be thinking of doing to this Watcher admittedly scares you.
Renjun nods, a slow grin growing on his lips. “Yeah, I probably could. What are you thinking?”
The next day, the plan rolls into motion.
You, WinWin, Mark, and Renjun have gone over the risks of your plan, such as the potential consequences of getting caught sneaking down to the dungeon cells. The rest of the previous day was spent sequestered in the common room, only once did Mark and Renjun make an excursion to the kitchen to fetch food back to the common room, and then you and WinWin had gone down to supper in the Banquet hall when the bell rang to signal the meal. The stalker Watcher had been sitting out there each time that any of you departed, and he’d followed until you returned to the common room. Every other moment of yesterday had been spent sharing hushed plans and arrangements for today.
Renjun had everything planned out to the minute. He knew exactly where the portrait of the High Watcher that acts as a hidden entrance to the dungeons will be, and he knows exactly where the dungeon will spit you back out when your time is up and the portrait has moved location. You avoid listening to the detailed parts of the plan that involve WinWin and Mark dispatching the stalker Watcher.
For half the night, you couldn’t sleep.
In part, the restlessness was due to the whispered sounds carrying into the bedroom from Mark and Renjun out in the common room, running over the plan aloud between themselves, again and again. Also, your mind refused to let you relax, stressed and excited in equal measure about the plan, and the most important part, which was finally getting to see Yuta and Ten again.
You spend a while envisioning scenarios of the moment you’ll see them again. Your chest aches, your fingers itching to touch them, to smell their fiery brimstone scent, to see the flames burning in Yuta’s eyes, Ten’s wickedly charming grin. You miss the sounds of their voices, their laughter. You miss all of their silly little habits, even ones that had somewhat irritated you before. So, for at least an hour or two, you imagine scenarios of finding them again, before those scenarios start to shrink from bright and happy to the darker side of your worries.
So, instead, you turn to WinWin. You spend a good portion of your sleepless hours lying there in the bed watching him sleep – the soft motion of his eyes beneath his eyelids, his lips parting to breathe out quiet sleepy sounds.
After Mark falls silent since Renjun has probably left for the night, and after watching WinWin begins to feel more creepy than anything else, you tuck yourself with your back against WinWin’s chest. He makes a little hum, squeezing his arms around you so you feel secure and safe against him. Lying with him like this reminds you of your nights together during his rut, of those few hours when he’d not been overwhelmingly horny, when you’d been locked together by his knot, cuddling and dozing.
At some point, you fall asleep.
The sun hasn’t yet risen when you wake up. In the predawn darkness of the green bedroom, you can’t see anything. Even the firelight in the common room is extinguished. All you know is the feeling of WinWin warm all around you.
Specifically, you feel his lips resting against the side of your neck.
“What are you doing?” You sleepily mumble, lifting a hand to uselessly flutter your fingers over WinWin’s hair, his head bowed over you.
“Just allow me this,” he replies, sponging another kiss a little higher on your throat. “Mark and I are going to war for you today.”
You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “That’s a little dramatic.”
“Is it?” His lips touch your jaw. “Who knows what might happen?”
You hate the truth behind his words. None of you really know what might happen. To what lengths will the Watchers go to punish such an infraction if you’re caught sneaking to the dungeon? Or if Mark and WinWin taking care of – or distracting – the stalker Watcher goes badly?
“I need you both to be careful.” You twist around in WinWin’s arms, tugging at his hair lightly so he pulls his lips away from your skin.
He blinks slowly down at you, his gaze lowering to your lips. “If I promise you we’ll be careful, can I get a kiss?”
You push a hand against his chest, but you don’t pull it away and WinWin doesn’t budge from over you. He smiles, still looking at your lips, waiting. You sigh, “I want both of you to be careful, WinWin, please. Keep an eye on Mark. The Watchers hate him more than anyone else. Don’t let him get carried away with whatever you’re planning, okay?”
WinWin groans playfully, lowering his forehead to your shoulder. “Now you’re just taking all the fun out of it. But, sure, I’ll make sure Mark stays in one whole piece so you can keep playing with him.”
“I’m not playing with Mark.” You roll your eyes, pushing again uselessly at WinWin’s chest.
“Okay, sure. I’m not blind, I see the way he looks at you, the way you’ve been all moon-eyed over him lately too.” He huffs out a heavy breath, his voice muted as he says, “But I’ll return him in one piece for you.”
You rake your fingers through WinWin’s hair with a sound of frustration until he lifts his head. “Win,” you say, holding eye contact, imploring him, “You come back in one piece, too.”
WinWin dips his head, kissing your cheek. “I promise.”
You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, pressing your fingertips just enough that he gets the message, shifting his lips from your cheek to your mouth.
This kiss is slow, tender with all of the emotions and the need for today to go right. WinWin props himself above you. You stroke your fingers lightly over the side of his face and down his neck, over his bare shoulder. His heart pounds beneath your touch. His full bare body presses against yours, and if you weren’t still wound up with the stress of the coming day, approaching quicker with each rising degree of the sun outside, maybe you would finally give in and take this a little further once again.
But then you think of Ten and Yuta, down in the dungeons.
You think of Mark probably still out there in the common room.
WinWin tries to dip back in when you pull away from the kiss. You allow him one more peck, and then you’re sliding out from beneath him, leaving the bed to wrap your arms around yourself as you face the sunrise.
The old bed frame creaks beneath WinWin. “Everything will be okay. We’ve planned. Renjun knows this place better than anyone else, probably,” he says, lifting himself up after you. His hands are warm when he places them on your hips, drawing your bodies close again. “Can you promise me, too? That you’ll be careful?”
“It’s not the same, WinWin.”
He rests his chin on top of your head. “Just promise me.”
You tilt your head back, sighing, “I promise. I’ll get myself out of there if anything goes wrong. Teleport or burn my way out.”
“Good.” He kisses the top of your head, and then he’s gone, walking away towards the bathroom. “You can join me in the shower, if you want. That kiss felt a little… hungry.” He’s teasing, grinning at you.
“Go away, oh my God,” you groan in embarrassment. You turn back to face the window, feeling your face heat up.
WinWin just laughs, and you watch him walk away in the reflection. In the rising sunlight, all of his bare skin reflects just fine in the glass. The bathroom door closes behind him, and you focus on the image of the world beyond the reflection. This morning it’s the Parisian garden you’d first seen from the empty ballroom. Your eyes follow the curling paths, the swirls of colorful flowers in full bloom, the arcs of sunlight catching on fountains.
And then you catch sight of a face in the window’s reflection.
You spin around, summoning your fire to your fingertips already.
“Hold your fire,” Mark says, lifting his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”
“Sorry.” You lower your hands, extinguishing your flame. “I’m just on edge.”
Mark comes deeper into the room, slowly approaching you like he’s a little worried that you might snap on him. “That’s reasonable… to be jumpy. Are you ready?” He comes to stand beside you, his arm touching yours. His hand bumps against yours, and you feel a spark jump between your hand and his, a little shock that startles you both.
That little shock becomes a full pulse of energy when Mark suddenly takes your hand, holding it in both of his. Mark doesn’t say anything, just holding onto your hand, looking into your eyes. You get it, even without him saying anything. He’s worrying for you, worrying for himself, worrying for how this day is going to go.
“Do you remember what I told you? When we were about to come through the Fountain of the Watchers?” His hands feel warm against yours, as if he’s been holding his palm to the flames out in the common room’s fireplace. “If anything feels too dangerous, like it’s going wrong, you can teleport. You can get yourself out of here. That’s what is most important.”
“Mark, I’ll be fine. You two will be fine.” You smile reassuringly at him. “Today is going to go splendidly. You know the plan. Think a little positive for me.”
He pulls one hand away from holding yours, and when he lifts it to your shoulder, his breath coming out an uncertain sigh, your heart jolts in your chest. Mark’s hand slides over your shoulder, fingertips light against the back of your neck before dipping a little lower. He presses against your back, pulling you forward, and your heart thunders in anticipation.
You expect a kiss.
Maybe that’s initially what Mark was going for, or maybe it wasn’t his plan at all.
Mark hugs you, his cheek resting against your head.
You breathe in as your nose is pressed to his shirt. This is the thing about Mark. He might be undead, surviving off of blood, typically cold to the touch, but he always smells so nice and warm. Like clean cotton and orange blossom. He crushes you against him in this hug, and you wrap your arms around his waist, gripping his shirt at his lower back so you’re both pressed as tightly together as you can be.
Their worries are totally unwarranted, you’re sure. You and Renjun are going to be out of danger, just down visiting the dungeon cells. Your worry for WinWin and Mark makes sense. Renjun has made it glaringly obvious to the three of you that the Watchers, though they are High Holy beings of the supernatural variety, have a deep-seated contempt and sense of superiority over all other supernatural beings. Mark and WinWin are going to be out there providing a distraction so the stalker Watcher stays out of the way for you and Renjun. But what if that Watcher – or any other, for that matter – decides to just attack the vampire and the werewolf like other Watchers have made it clear over the past couple days that they’re willing to do.
It’s not that you don’t trust the High Watcher, but you don’t believe that the lower-level Watchers are going to necessarily stick to the request you made to the High Watcher that Mark and Winwin be left alone. If you’re not with them, how will you know the Watchers will keep their word? You know that you just told Mark to think positively, but suddenly, you find your mind swirling down a dark path of worry.
“I’ll promise you what I just promised WinWin a few minutes ago.” You lower your head, your mouth brushing the curve of Mark’s shoulder through the thin material of his shirt. “If I feel like anything is going wrong, if I’m in any danger, I’ll get myself out of there. Teleport or burn my way out. But you two keep each other safe, too, okay?”
Mark sighs softly, clutching you a little bit tighter. “I just hope we don’t all end up in cells before the day is over.”
“Think positive,” you remind him.
Mark just holds you tighter.
You wish this meant something. You like Mark just as much as you like the others. Like WinWin had pointed out earlier, you are playing with Mark a little bit, but it’s not intentional. You’re inviting him more than just playing with him; he’s the one that’s not accepting the invitation from you to come make this a little more than friendship. Like this hug, for example. He could have kissed you. You would have welcomed a kiss, but Mark went for the hug.
It’s a comforting hug, for sure. You feel nice with his arms around you, safe and secure. You would happily stay there for a while longer, wrapped up in a hug with Mark, the sunlight warming you as it spreads even brighter through the room, but then there’s a knock on the common room’s door.
Mark lets go of you, stepping away and turning his back quickly so you can’t see his face as he hurries out to open the door. You linger in the doorway of the green bedroom, watching Mark open the door out into the rest of the House.
Renjun stands outside, smiling brightly when he sees both of you.
“Are we all ready?”
After WinWin emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, fresh and fully clothed, there’s nothing else left for the plan except for the perfect moment to commence. Due to the portrait of the High Watcher’s location, you have to wait for an exact moment to begin. If you’re too early you’ll draw the Watchers’ attention and this could all be over before it begins. If you’re just a little too late, the portrait will be in an entirely different location on the other side of the House.
Renjun watches an old mantelpiece clock that sits on one of the bookshelves in the common room, the hands ticking slowly around the clock, and the moment that the hands point out to being half past seven o’clock in the morning, the booming sound of the breakfast bell rings through the House. That’s the sign you’ve been waiting for. Renjun gets to his feet. He strides to the door of the common room, looking back at the three of you. You stand to follow.
WinWin grabs your hand. “Are you positive we can trust him?”
On your other side, Mark has stood up as well. He just brushes his hand against the small of your back before continuing around you to join Renjun at the door. You squeeze WinWin’s hand, leaning back in quickly to kiss him. “We can trust him, WinWin. Why do you doubt him so much?”
WinWin stands up, casting a glance over at the other two. “Because you’re going with him. This could all be a trap he’s planning.”
Renjun rolls his eyes as he pulls the door open. “It wouldn’t be a very good trap and an even worse plan. Now, please, if you don’t come along, we’re going to miss our window of opportunity.” He steps out, leading the way. Renjun doesn’t look back even once to check that you and the others are coming.
You trust him fully, so you follow.
Mark and WinWin are both right behind you.
Immediately, once you’re outside of the common room, you notice a slight flaw in your plans. The stalker Watcher isn’t outside your room.
“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” WinWin asks in a hushed voice once you’ve pointed it out. “We don’t have to do anything about him if he’s not here.”
Renjun looks back over his shoulder at WinWin as he starts to climb the spiral stair up to the next floor. “But then we don’t know where he is, and I have a feeling that he’s usually got a pretty good idea of where the three of you are. Watchers do have powers, and some of them are gifted in tracking; usually that’s just the soldier Watchers, but some of the others do as well.” He looks around, keeping an eye out for any Watchers who might be wandering the House instead of down at breakfast with the rest.
“Maybe he’s at breakfast,” WinWin suggests.
Renjun makes a sound of disagreement.
Unfortunately, according to Renjun, the location of the High Watcher’s portrait is near the entrance hall this morning. That takes you dangerously close to all of the Watchers that you’re trying to avoid, but there’s no other choice. That’s what role Mark and WinWin are serving today: the distraction. In addition to taking care of the stalker Watcher, their responsibility in the plan is to make sure that no other Watchers come towards the dungeon’s hidden entrance while you and Renjun are still inside.
The path to the entrance hall and the banquet hall is a longer one this morning, and you’re not sure if you’re grateful for the extra time or not. Your bones itch to just be with Yuta and Ten again, to get these preliminary actions out of the way so you can see them once more.
Already on edge, it’s no surprise that you jump, nearly startled out of your skin when WinWin’s hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you back slightly towards him.
His eyes are focused ahead, a burning amber color.
“There he is,” he growls.
You look forward, following his gaze along the hallway Renjun is leading you along. Up ahead, having just rounded the corner, is the stalker Watcher. His familiar black robes and the silver jewelry on his shoulder make him easily distinguishable. His gait as he walks towards you is also familiar.
Renjun hesitates just a few feet in front of you. He looks back at the three of you. “It’s go-time.”
WinWin’s eyes stay hot, flashing dangerously as he angles a grin at Mark, a surprising tone of excitement in his voice when he says, “Our audience awaits.”
“You don’t have to sound so delighted about this, you know.” Mark stands on your other side looking over at WinWin. He presses a fist into the palm of his other hand, cracking his knuckles. “Is the prospect of fighting with me the only thing getting your rocks off these days?”
WinWin rolls his eyes, his lip curling slightly. “Oh, there’s plenty else that gets me off, Mark.” His hand shifts on your shoulder, and you swat him away, putting a little distance between them and you, standing closer to Renjun.
Mark snarls, and the two of them begin arguing.
Renjun just smiles, all light-hearted and unaffected by the bickering men behind you. “If they can keep that energy up, this should be easy.”
As much as you tried to not listen to the exact details of their plan to get the stalker Watcher out of your way, you had heard some small parts of it. Mostly this: they were planning to get into a brawl in front of him, hoping that he would deem them a bigger threat than whatever you were getting up to, and he would follow them as they took their fight through the halls of the House. You know that they won’t actually hurt each other. Probably.
Unfortunately, they’ve probably got a lot of fuel to keep this fire going for a while. They’ve always been alright with each other's presence, but since WinWin’s rut and then especially since they lost the buffer of Yuta and Ten between them, there’s been a tiny bit more animosity between them. Coming here to Purgatory and the House of the Watchers, it’s only gotten worse, though you’re pretty certain that’s due to the unfamiliar environment, the near-constant surveillance of the Watchers with their clear disdain, and the fate of their friends and your boyfriends that remains up in the air.
The stalker Watcher approaches from the other end of the corridor, his black cloak fluttering around his legs.
Mark and WinWin, despite it all, do know the plan. Therefore, as you and Renjun begin taking small steps forward, continuing forward as if the sight of the Watcher isn’t a problem, the other two walk a little faster. Soon, they’re outpacing you and Renjun, drawing ahead of you, putting themselves between you and the Watcher. With each step, their quiet argument grows in volume. Their voices echo around the corridor, off the glass ceiling of a solarium filled with honey-bright sunlight and strange plants that sit along one side of the hallway.
The echoes distort their words, making it difficult to actually understand much of what they’re saying, but the wild gestures of their hands tend to stray in your direction, so you think you may have an idea.
As they approach the Watcher, Mark yells something and pushes WinWin. The werewolf stumbles, and he knocks into the Watcher.
WinWin rights himself, a growl ripping through him, ready to throw himself fully into this fight with Mark.
You’re sure that they would begin the violent fight imminently, except for the sharp sound of your gasp.
When Mark pushed WinWin, he left long bloody scrapes from his nails along WinWin’s arm, but it’s not the sight of the blood that’s taken you by surprise. Rather, it’s the way that when WinWin stumbled into the Watcher, he knocked the man back against the wall, and in doing so, his hood fell away from his face.
Other than during mealtimes in the Banquet hall, you’ve hardly seen the Watchers with their hoods down. Most keep them up all the time, though the novices in white do shirk away the given anonymity of the hood even when they’re in their worst behavior. But the fact remains that the majority of the Watchers, you’ve never really seen their faces, and now you’re faced with this Watcher’s bared features.
The first thing you notice about him is the ragged curl of his lips, the pink canyon of a scar along his right cheek. His left eyebrow, eyelid, and his nose are all marred by jagged scrapes that can be nothing other than claw marks. The twisted, shiny scar of a burn covers his jaw on the left side, extending across his throat in the shape of a handprint. And under it all, you make out the facial features of someone you know.
WinWin comes to the realization at the same time as you.
A deep growl rumbles from his chest as he turns his back on Mark, crouching as he glares at the unhooded Watcher before you.
Hansol.
The damage to his handsome face is startling, but without a doubt, it’s him. You see now what vengeance Yuta, Ten, and WinWin had exacted on him that you’d never truly wanted to see. Once, they’d told you that they’d left him and your pastor alive, their memories modified, but they hadn’t mentioned this: how they’d shredded Hansol’s features to nearly the point of being unrecognizable.
He grimaces as you make eye contact.
“Hello,” he says, and at once you realize that you’d recognized his voice from the first moment you heard it. You just hadn’t ever considered that he could be here, so you hadn’t made the connection.
“Don’t talk to her,” WinWin growls.
Mark, confused, looks between the three of you. Renjun shrinks back against the wall.
“I’ll talk to her if I damn well please, dog.” Hansol’s lips twist grotesquely, his gaze flicks away from you, over to WinWin. “You don’t have the demons here to protect you now.”
A shiver unfurls along your spine, calling to the eternal fire inside you. Sparks jump on your skin, your hair rising. WinWin’s whole body tenses up, his eyes shifting from a warm amber brown towards a lupine shade of yellow-gold.
“What the hell is going on?” Mark asks, “Who is this guy?”
All you can say is, “Hansol.”
No need for the superlatives of ex-lover and exorcist, Mark immediately understands the context just from his name alone. He has heard the stories from your boyfriends, from WinWin. He’s heard the name muttered from your lips on a few rare occasions. Even if he hadn’t you’re sure that the demon handprint burnt to his throat as well as the werewolf claw marks tearing up his once-handsome face should have been indicative that this was no friend. Mark’s stance shifts immediately, eyes blazing bloodred, his fangs emerging along with a hiss.
“Surprised to see me?” Hansol asks, that demented grin still on his face.
Of course you’re surprised to see him. For that period of time that you knew him, you’d thought he was only human. Not anything more or less than just human. You stand frozen in your spot, staring at him. Your mind is whirring to compute and catch up, to just comprehend that your ex-lover certainly wasn’t killed by your boyfriends, his memory wasn’t erased like they’d told you they’d done, and he’s just a disfigured version of the man that you’d once known.
He takes a step towards you, only managing the one step before WinWin’s shoulder collides with Hansol’s chest, slamming the Watcher back against the wall.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” WinWin’s clawed hand presses against the burned handprint on Hansol’s throat. The tips of his claws create indents on the skin, but they don’t break through, just held there as a threat. “You’re not allowed to touch her anymore, bastard.”
Hansol rolls his eyes, and with a flick of his hand, WinWin is flying backwards. He crashes against the opposite wall of the corridor, rattling old framed photographs on the wall. Hansol shakes his sleeves out, brushing a bit of lint off the front of his black cloak.
Then Mark charges him.
Having witnessed Mark’s vampire strength and speed before when he and WinWin sparred each other in your apartment in Hell City, you feel confident in his attack. You’ve seen how quickly and easily he’d pinned WinWin, laughing as he’d held his fangs above the werewolf’s neck. But now Hansol matches Mark’s speed; you remember what Renjun said the other day about the animal blood dulling Mark’s abilities, and you see that clearly now as Hansol gets the better of Mark, hurling him down the hallway.
Mark skids and tumbles over the carpet, coming to a stop several meters away. Closer at hand, WinWin rises to his feet, his limbs shaking with barely contained fury now.
You take a startled step back, closer to Renjun now where he’s pressed to the wall. You watch as Mark and WinWin both vibrate with the heat of the fight, as Hansol forgets your presence, focused only on the two predators defending you against him. Both of them begin moving towards him at the same time, and Hansol readies himself for the impending attack.
Their bodies meet violently.
Mark’s hand goes to Hansol’s throat, and WinWin slashes his claws across Hansol’s chest, cutting ribbons out of his shirt. Hansol leans in against Mark’s hand. From your vantage point a safe distance down the corridor, you can’t clearly see Hansol’s face, but you can see his lips are moving, that he’s forcing some words out even as Mark chokes him. You see the expression on WinWin’s face fall for the briefest moment, his eyes lifting to catch sight of you. Hansol says something else, and WinWin’s focus jolts back around; a sneer curls Mark’s lip.
Renjun grabs your arm, his hand resting against your forearm, startling you in your tense state. You look over at him, at his eyes flickering back and forth between silver and hazel, which you’re beginning to understand must be related to his level of adrenaline. “We need to move,” he whispers, “If we go now, we’ll be there before the Watcher even realizes we’re gone.”
It’s a yelp and a roar of fury that draws your attention back to the fight just in time to witness WinWin exploding into his wolf form. His fur drips blood from the suddenness of his inner wolf bursting so quickly through his human skin. This transformation is entirely different from the last you witnessed back beside the fountain in Hell City. This one was instant and seemed less painful, though you wonder if the emotions he’s feeling sped up the experience.
His emotions are certainly high.
The second that WinWin’s four paws hit the ground, his teeth are bared, body bristling as he shakes off the blood. He glares at Hansol with his yellow eyes. Mark is also utterly transformed. You can see the vivid red glow of his eyes, the veined shadows that fracture the skin around his eyes, and the vicious length of his fangs and nails that have grown into claws. You can hear Mark hissing, WinWin’s snappy growl, and the low challenge of Hansol foolishly egging them both on.
You don’t want to watch, not really, but it’s that morbid fascination. You can’t look away even though you know that you’re not going to like what you see when the fighting actually begins.
Renjun tugs on your arm again, trying to pull you away from the growing tension, but you linger for another moment, watching the three of them as WinWin prowls closer, as Mark sinks into a fighting stance, and Hansol just retains his demented grin, arms held out wide as if to welcome them in.
“We can’t stay!” Renjun whispers, and with one last tug, he pulls you away, running back along the hallway from the direction you came.
You hear the sounds behind you as you and Renjun rush down along a side hallway. You hear the smack of bodies against each other behind you, hear the growling and vicious guttural sounds of contact being made. There is crashing, glass breaking, the crunching of a body being thrown into something. You hear the sounds moving, growing more distant as the pair of you and the fight move farther away from each other. Mark and WinWin are on the move, the rough tumbling and rolling thunder of growls grows distant faster than you and Renjun are moving.
Renjun throws a door open to a secret passage, a set of stairs that leads upwards, and with his hand still tight on your arm, he hauls you up the stairs behind him. You come crashing through a hidden door at the top into a dark hallway. No windows allow natural light here, and if there are lamps or candles mounted to the wall, they’ve all been extinguished. The only light comes from the open ends of the hallway—one at what appears to be the entrance hall and the other end overlooks a small staircase that leads up to somewhere bright and sunny. There’s only just enough light in the middle of this hallway for you to be able to see the hulking shadows of a few statues, the ornate frames mounted on the walls that appear empty as you pass them in the dark.
Renjun throws his arm out to stop you as you near the end of the hallway by the stairs. You’re both still fully hidden in the shadow of the hallway, but Renjun pulls you sideways into the recessed doorway. He attempts to pull you fully into the nook, out of sight of anyone who might pass down this hallway, but you peek out, wanting to know what’s just set him on guard.
A second later, a small group of Watchers passes by the end of the hallway that opens onto the entrance hall. They walk quickly, not even sparing a glance down this hallway, their voices confused murmurs of a language that you don’t understand, but something in their words causes Renjun to tense up beside you. He buzzes with silent energy, staring down towards where they disappeared, waiting for the sounds of their voices to fade away.
When you can no longer hear the echoes of their voices, when there is nothing but silence, Renjun moves.
“Now!” He whispers, and his hand slips into yours, pulling you out of the nook.
You both run, moving quickly towards the sunlight at the other end of the hallway, turning the corner, and you find yourself face-to-face with the portrait of the High Watcher. To your delight and relief, there truly is no one standing guard in front of the portrait, just an empty stretch of sunlit hallway.
Renjun’s palm slides with nervous sweat against yours, as you come to a halt in front of the portrait. He doesn’t let go of you, instead using his free hand to search along the edge of the frame, muttering under his breath in what you believe sounds like a countdown.
His hand stops.
“Fuck,” he sighs in relief, pulling his hand back, holding a little tighter to yours. “Okay, here we go.”
There’s a clicking sound from deep behind the portrait. A creak, a pop, a groan, and then the frame swings out from the wall just enough the Renjun can haul it open a few inches further before he’s slipping in through the crack, dragging you with him.
The air inside tastes dusty and stale on your tongue. The walls and floor and ceiling are all made of the same tightly fit-together gray stone, heading straight in for a few feet before turning sharply down into a steep set of stairs. For the moment, it’s all very well-lit. A series of mirrors are placed along the walls, reflecting the light coming in through the open portrait down along the dungeon’s stairs.
Before you can take a step towards the stairs to hope for a clear look down, your vision goes black.
“Shh.” Renjun is right there. His hand is still on yours. He’s just shut the portrait door, closing out all of the natural light. He whispers, “Don’t move. I don’t want you to fall. I need to just find…. where the damn light is.”
You don’t need a light.
With your hand that’s not clamped on his, you call your flames, settling on a hot white bulb of fire that rests comfortingly in your palm.
“That works.” Renjun nods beside you, his face even more pale and silvery in the white light of your flame.
You feel a shift, feel like the walls shiver around you, and a low rumble similar to blood rushing in your ears fills the air. Renjun reaches a hand out to steady you, “It was just the House rearranging.” He had timed everything perfectly so there would only be a minute at the most from the time that you were behind its secret entrance to it moving to its new location elsewhere in the House. “Follow me. Be careful. There’s no handrail and it’s very steep.”
The steps are narrow and uneven, and the way your flame flickers makes the shadows dance, only enhancing the difficulty of descending the stairs. But Renjun moves steadily downward in front of you, so you just follow his shoulders, keeping one hand on the wall and the other hand aloft to light the way.
You notice unlit candles in sconces along the curved walls, so as you pass them, you lift your hand, briefly touching the wicks to light the candles behind you. The candlelight reflects in the mirrors, making the tunnel even brighter.
The deeper you descend, the damper the air grows. The walls develop a slick look, a cool feeling to them, like they’re seeping moisture, covered in lichen and moss.
“Careful,” Renjun whispers when your foot slips on a slick step, and you’re forced to catch yourself with your hands on his shoulders. “We’re nearly there.”
You wonder how things are going up there in the House. Your thoughts linger with WinWin and Mark, and a small part of you wants to leave the dungeons, to go find them and make sure that they’re alright. A bigger part of you is dedicated to what you’re walking towards, toward seeing Yuta and Ten again. That part of you grows with every passing second, every beat of your heart. You’re going to see them again and all of this is going to be worth it. You’re going to talk to them, come up with a plan on how to get them out of here or at least get them out of the trial with a verdict of innocence.
“Here.” Renjun steps aside, revealing the way that the stairs level out into a smooth tunnel that curves around to the right. An arched doorway opens onto the dungeons. You can see a single pale light glowing, reflecting off the iron bars and a puddle in the first cell. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here,” Renjun whispers.
Frozen, you remain there for a moment. This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, but you’re scared. The fear bites deep into your bones. What if you walk in there and all the cells are empty? If Yuta and Ten aren’t actually here? What if WinWin was right and this has all been some elaborate fucked-up trap by the Watchers? Or worse, what if you walk in there and you find Yuta and Ten, but not the way that they were when you left them?
After a moment, you take a tentative step forward, then another. You pause again in the doorway, reaching out a steadying hand to the wall. You can’t see anyone, can’t hear any signs of life. Only a distant dripping sound somewhere down the block of cells. There’s a clang deep below you, and you glance back at Renjun. Surely he wouldn’t leave you to venture forward alone if there was anything dangerous lurking down in the cells?
Renjun nods reassuringly, following a few paces behind you. He looks hesitant, a bit frightened, and you wonder if being down here is just making him think of his parents. Maybe it wasn’t very kind of you to ask him to bring you down here. But he’s here with you, and when he offers you another faint smile, you decide that he wouldn’t have brought you if he truly didn’t want to be down here.
You face forward again.
“Yuta? Ten?” Your voice wavers, echoing, doubled back at you as you take another step forward.
There, the tiniest sound from midway down the block of cells. A shuffle, a clink of a chain. There’s the smallest sound of a groan, and your heart leaps in your chest, propelling you forward through the doorway. A small puddle splashes under your foot.
The first stretch of cells are completely empty.
“Yuta?” Your voice rebounds at you from the darkness.
A few more empty cells, and then your footsteps falter as your flames reflect off something shining in one of the cells only to reveal a broken femur lying disjointedly from the rest of a chained skeleton.
“Ten?” There’s a tremble in your voice as you continue on.
You pass down the block, all of the cells empty. Your heart thuds in your throat, your flames in your hand pulse in time with your heartbeat. A short flight of stairs leads downwards, and here the walls positively weep. Your self-produced light catches on the rivulets of moisture on the walls, the black puddles on the stone floor. The stairs take a turn, leading farther down, down down. You can lean over the railing and see that the shadows dance into darkness far below.
How far down do these dungeons go? With the ever-increasing amount of liquid drawing out of the walls, are the bottom cells drowned in a black lake?
You hope you don’t have to find out.
“Ten?” Your voice sounds quieter now, and you can’t tell if that’s your own fear muffling your voice or if it’s the dampness in the air swallowing the sound. “Yuta?”
Nothing.
Renjun sighs quietly, and he collapses to sit on a bench built into the wall beside the stairs. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and sad. Your shoulders slump slightly forward, and so quietly that your voice barely rises above a whisper, you ask, “How deep do you think we’ll have to go? What if they’re not even down here?”
For the first time, a new fear awakens in you. What if the Watchers already gave Yuta and Ten their trial? What if they determined them guilty, and they’re just stringing you, WinWin, and Mark along on a false hope? You squash that idea quickly; what reason would the Watchers have to lie to you about that, just to keep you here?
“No.” You shake your head, speaking more to yourself than to Renjun. “Yuta and Ten are down here somewhere. They’ve got to be.”
You walk away, leaving Renjun on the bench, peering into each cell as you pass.
And then, faintly, from a dark cell, you hear a voice.
<-previous || next–>
a/n: sorry for the extra long delay! but it’s a long chapter to make up for it! I hope you enjoyed it, and as always please let me know what you thought! Likes, reblogs, comments and tags are always and forever appreciated
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Rick Grimes' Girl (Part Two)
Rick Grimes x female!reader
Warnings: Season 5 Rick, kissing, twd elements, rick being wrong, fluff, just imagine his face when he realizes that he was wrong, SORRY THAT IT IS SHORT
Idea given by: @mrs-grimes
Summary: Aaron, you, Rick, Glenn, and Michonne try to find the community that Aaron spoke about but a herd of walkers on 23 stalled your plans. Also, Rick finds out something that makes him realize that he overreacted.
When the group made it back, Rick started to eye Aaron while he talked. He talked Michonne outside while you got everything ready. You handed Carl baby Judith and he went to get in the other car. Once everyone was ready to leave, you pulled Rick aside.
"Rick," You pulled his face to yours and placed a small kiss on his lips, wanting him to know that you were his and only his.
"Let's go."
The car ride was sort of smooth. Glenn was a good driver, after all he was a pizza driver. He started to freak out when he saw that the road was full of walkers. They were all growling, snarling, whining as they made their way for the moving car. Glenn ran straight through them but the car stun and sputtered when he tried to get it to turn on. He cursed and looked over to Rick in the passenger seat.
"I'll get out and see what I can do," Michonne said, she got out and walked in front of the car.
"I'll keep your back," You said before getting out.
Rick and Glenn started to wipe the window shield. Aaron saw a red flare go up in the air, he knew something was wrong.
"Whatever this is, it's over. I need to go."
"You aren't going anywhere," Rick snapped. Aaron had been testing his patience all day.
Walkers started to get closer during the time that Michonne was clearing out the walker guts and body parts from under the hood. You pulled out your knife and started to stab the approaching dead. Soon, Michonne finished and hollered for you to get back in the car. The both of you were back to safety and Rick sighed in relief. He was worried but he trust you.
---
When the group reached the resting spot that the rest were at, Aaron asked for some guy named Eric. Hugging everyone that you had not seen since the barn, you told Rick that you were going to bed. You followed the group in and walked past the room that held Eric and Aaron. The door was cracked open enough to peak through.
You were not trying to listen but it was kind of hard not to when you hear the pain and worry in Aaron's voice. It reminded you of when Rick's knuckles were busted and almost broken when he got into a fight with one of the people in the group at the prison.
"I was so worried."
"It's just a broken ankle. I'm okay." The man, Eric, let Aaron guide his lips together and they shared a sweet kiss.
You giggle at the sight. Not because you were uncomfortable, no, you were laughing because Rick had gotten jealous for no reason. Aaron was gay and Rick had to "claim" you in front of Aaron. You laughed and told Rick that Aaron wanted to talk to him.
Rick was not in the mood. He just wanted to get some sleep and hold his girl but no, Aaron wanted something. See, Rick did not know that you were just fibbing so that you could make him see that he overreacted.
"I love you and I will never leave your side," Aaron whispered to Eric before kissing him once again.
Rick watched the scene in front of him and groaned. He noticed how much of an asshole and how he had been wrong he had been. He walked back to your shared room and when he saw your face, he just knew that you did it on purpose.
"God, I wish I had a camera for how stupid you look," You laugh.
"Yeah, yeah."
He was not mad, just ashamed that he let his jealousy get in the way and cloud his vision. He just loved you and was very protective. You were a mom to his kids. Maybe not biologically, but you were helping him raise them in the world now. He was always thankful for you.
"So admit it," You grin widely. It was hardly ever that Rick overreacts and the fact that you were the reason, it sent a thrill through your body. You just wanted him to admit it to you.
"Admit what?"
"That you were wrong."
Silence filled the room. You pretended to be mad and huff before getting you pillow and blanket. You raised an eyebrow and he cracked.
"Fine, I was wrong." He rolled his eyes.
"Rick, you have nothing to worry about." You move closer to him, placing your hands onto his shoulders.
"And why is that?" His deep southern accent drawled. His eyes flicking over your body.
"Because I am Rick Grimes' girl and ain't nobody else's." You say before pulling his body down to the bed so you could kiss him. To prove that you were just his girl.
#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes#rick grimes x female!reader#twd x reader#the walking dead#twd#rick grimes twd#season 5 rick grimes#rick grimes x reader fluff
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