#its like he has to consciously close his mouth because its natural resting state is baring his teeth
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SYNOPSIS: Years of memories pouring out, Katsuki and Shouto confront their feelings for you in your very hospital room.
pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x fem!reader, todoroki shouto x fem!reader
genre: angst.
word count: 4.5k+
warnings: really self-indulgent fic, characters are aged-up, implied sexual content, mentions of drinking alcohol, jealousy, reader identifies as female with she/her pronouns,
author’s note: so i found this pretty old wip i wrote before i made my blog, and after reading it over, i decided hey why not publish it? so i finished it up, did some cleaning, and heres what we got. sorry if it seems kind of shaky, i did my best with what i initially had!
“Bakugou… what are you doing here?”
Shouto enters the room with freshly bought peonies in his hands—one of the many dozen he had brought to this hospital already—his steps coming to a halt at the sight of the Explosion Hero near your hospital bed. Katsuki looks up and narrows his eyes, aggravated by the offender’s question.
“What? You got a fucking problem with me being here?” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb the entire hospital wing, knowingly admitting to how loud he could be. But that doesn’t suppress the bite in his tone.
“Just because you’re her fucking boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re the only one that’s allowed to worry about her,” he nearly spits, and Shouto’s face mirrors Katsuki’s own irked expression.
You have been unconscious for a week now. The cause of this incident was due to your encounter with a dangerous villain who had been wanted by the police for quite some time. Months of evading capture down the drain, the villain had unfortunately ran into you as you patrolled the streets during your nightly shift.
In the end, you won the fight, but at the cost of damage done to your body and overuse of your quirk. As a result, you entered an unconscious state, recovering in this hospital bed to be monitored by medical staff throughout each day. The doctors assured them that you would eventually wake up but will need time to heal on your own through rest.
Ever since the day you’ve been admitted here, Shouto has been visiting your bedside. However, this is the first time Katsuki’s shown up.
Shouto only points a glare to the blond, ignoring him while he sets his bouquet down next to your bed. He notices the already present vase of hydrangeas, surmising that Katsuki must have brought them. He places his bundle of peonies beside them.
The dual-haired man sits on the opposite side of the bed from Katsuki, whose attention is brought back to the girl’s sleeping face, patched with wraps and bandages as a result of your tribulations with the villains.
If I had finished my jobs quicker, I would’ve been able to see you the moment you had to stay in this damn hospital. The thoughts ring in Katsuki’s head, hands clenched into fists out of frustration.
Knowing you had to deal with that whack job of a villain on your own—that your overprotective and valiant nature wouldn’t allow you to let this criminal walk away when you encountered him, and that they weren’t there to prevent you from getting like this—killed both him and Shouto on the inside. They especially hated not knowing when you would wake up or if what the doctors said about you eventually regaining consciousness would even be true.
Shouto takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. Katsuki catches him pressing delicate kisses against your lightly bruised knuckles from the corner of his eye, the young man not caring that he was performing these intimate acts in the presence of another man. Shouto especially did this in order to make a solid point:
She’s mine.
Katsuki knew very well how possessive Shouto could be while he was in their presence. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him. If he got to call you his and keep you all to himself, he’d make sure everyone knew they couldn’t have you—that your smile and attention were all his and his alone. But in this case, they weren’t, and all he could settle for were envious emotions and fantasies of what could’ve been.
•
•
•
Bakugou Katsuki’s feelings for you date back to as early as your high school years at U.A.
At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what made these feelings arise. Having his goal of becoming the Number One hero plastered at the forefront of his head made romance and love trivial concepts down his path. Katsuki had no time to be chasing after girls, going on dates, and devoting a chunk of his time to a partner.
However, at one point, things started to change. He felt ripples affect the still waters that were his life, and he noticed that only you could calm this torrent. You were the one person he sought comfort in, the one person that understood who he was and why he acted the way he did. And the one person who mended him physically and mentally without belittling his character or crushing his pride.
Through all of that, Katsuki had begun to appreciate and admire all the little things about you. Like your beaming smile and the twinkle in the lovely hues of your eyes that you’d give him as you two interacted. It was such a welcomed contrast to the fearful looks the other students would have etched on their faces whenever he so much as called out their name.
He always took note of how you adjusted his food to his preferences during times you were assigned to cook that night at the dorms. And how you’d go and try to tend to him after training, when his muscles ached and his bruises were settling into his skin.
At first, Katsuki thought of it as a sign of weakness—to accept help from someone else when at his most vulnerable state. Yet you were persistent.
He recalls a particular memory after a battle during his internship where he was reduced to resting in bed to recover. Not many of his classmates came up to check on him during that time. Mainly because they figured he wouldn’t bother to open his door for them anyway. Though one night, he heard a knock sounding from his door. He glanced up from his bed, already thinking about ignoring the visitor in favor of staying in bed to rest, but a voice spoke beyond the threshold.
“Katsuki? I hope you’re not asleep yet. It’s not much, but I made you a little something to help you get better.” He didn’t reply upon recognizing your voice, hesitating to see what you’d do if he didn’t respond.
There was a pause of silence until you eventually continued. “Well, I’ll leave this in front of your door for you to have… If not, I’ll come back and retrieve it, okay?” That was the last you said before Katsuki picked up a light clank near the bottom of the entrance. Afterward, feet padded lightly down the hallway till they returned to the elevator to descend to the bottom floors, and the blond was by himself once again.
He weighed the option of leaving whatever you left for him untouched, but knowing you made an effort to arrive at his door to check on him caused him to waver. Before he knew it, his feet treaded to the spot to discover a hot plate of curry at his doorstep, followed by a note and painkillers. The plate perched on one of his hands, he opened the letter with the other.
Get better soon! We’ll be waiting for you!
Closing the note, he tossed it on his desk before plopping down on the edge of his bed with the plate of curry in his lap. It steamed and dispersed heat on his sore thighs, piping hot and ready to eat.
He gripped his spoon between his fingers, an irregular grin surfacing his lips. He scooped up the spicy bits of curry, gobbling the dish down to its very last grain of rice until the plate was clean. And in that time, every bite he brought to his mouth made him think of you.
“Dumbass, there’s no way I’m falling behind.” Feeling thoroughly full, he transferred the finished plate to his desk, where he had left the note. Before he had even realized it, he reached out for the paper, glancing over the words one last time. He fished a pen from his drawer and scribed a reply of his own for when you would return for the dirty plate.
Thanks, dumbass. It was good.
•
•
•
The Icy-Hot Hero, Todoroki Shouto, loved you too much to let you go.
You were the girl that shaped him to become the person he is today—who taught him to embrace himself for who he was and not let his past define him and what he stood for. You were the person that brought him out from the dark hole he trapped himself in and cast him into warm light. You’ve stuck together through thick and thin throughout your journey to becoming Pro Heroes, protecting one another and watching each other’s backs. It wasn’t long before he noticed his feelings for you had developed into more complicated emotions. Emotions that made butterflies flutter in his stomach and his face unusually hot whenever he even glanced in your direction. As he began to actively seek you out for comfort and support, he thought of you differently in comparison to all of his other classmates.
Initially, these foreign feelings troubled him. Yet, he could never quite piece together why you could garner such flustered reactions.
Then after consoling these newfound sensations with his close friends and family, he realized that you meant so much more to him than just a classmate, an ally, a colleague. Todoroki Shouto was—is—in love with you.
And the feeling was mutual.
Whether it was the intense looks you two sent as your gazes naturally drifted to each other or how your hands would always brush across soft and calloused knuckles in a silent plea to lace your fingers together, it wasn’t long before he discovered that his feelings for you were reciprocated.
Interestingly, you and Shouto never had to confess anything to each other. Your feelings came almost naturally for you both like you were telepathically linked and on the same wavelength. You came to one another like magnets attracted to their opposite poles, and in just a blink, your lips had met one day, and you took each other’s first kiss.
From then on was the start of many more “firsts.”
Shouto remembers the first time he let you hang out in his dorm room, talking about simple things like school, studying, and internships.
He remembers your first date to a cafe his older sister recommended—the one with flavorful milk teas he knew you’d take a liking to, with bountiful flowers decorating the interior of the tea house.
He remembers inviting you into his home to meet his older siblings, have dinner with them, and letting his family get to know you as his significant other.
He remembers taking you to see his mother at the psychiatric ward his wretched father had admitted her to, finally letting the two most significant women in his life meet and watching as his mother took a relieved liking to the girl he loves.
He remembers the tension that hovered in the air over an argument you two had one day, which was eventually mended through communication and reaffirmations of love.
He remembers embracing you in his bed, devoid of nothing but yourselves in your purest forms, eliciting sweet sounds from your lips that intoxicated him with lust and drove him to desire more and more until he monopolized every crevice of your body—every ounce of your soul—and intended to burn your beautiful, sinful image into his memory.
He remembers so much of the little things and the significant things about your love that he could never, ever hand you over to anyone else. Less of all to Bakugou Katsuki.
•
•
•
Katsuki was one of the first people to notice that they were in a relationship.
At first, it wasn’t obvious. The two made a point to keep their romantic bond a secret among their classmates and teachers not to complicate things and be the subject of teasing. They also considered the fact they needed to focus on their studies and hero training. Kisses and other affectionate touches were done behind closed doors or whenever they knew no eyes could discover them. These sneaky tactics proved to be effective and not many questioned them about relationships, aside from the occasional girls/boys talk they’d do. They’d ask each other things like “who would you date” and “don’t you think ‘so-and-so’ is cute” and many other curious asks. Their answers to these inquiries were inconspicuous enough that most of their friends didn’t suspect much of anything. Except for Katsuki.
Katsuki was never one to pick apart details, not as much as his childhood rival, Deku, anyway. But the more he looked at them, the more he was aware of the particular hints and their subtleties of tenderness. Such as the way the red-and-white-haired boy would perk up at the sound of your name or the chime of your voice from across the dormitory’s common area. Or the way you two would hover around each other more often than you would your classmates as if maximizing the most of your time together in public. Or how you’d go on small study dates together and hold each other’s hand underneath the table in the library, thinking no one would notice.
Perhaps, the most significant indication, however, was the expressions on each of their faces.
Maybe Katsuki had started becoming very hyper-aware, unraveling your mannerisms and making out even the smallest of singularities, but he felt your faces alone were an obvious giveaway.
The looks you gave each other were ones harboring nothing but pure love and adoration. He could discern the glow you exuded simply basking one another’s presence. Those looks weren’t ones you would give to a close friend; they were something more. He would know. That look Shouto gives is the same one Katsuki has for you, after all.
Except, his is never reciprocated.
That pretty smile, the flustered expression across your cheeks, the sparkling hues of your eyes—all those little details were reserved for Shouto, not Katsuki.
It hurt to know that the gaze you give Katsuki wouldn’t ever be the same one you give to Shouto. Katsuki knows this, and yet he still can’t seem to get past you.
The moment he was aware of his feelings—reluctantly fathoming the fact that you were with Shouto—Katsuki did everything in his power to stop these feelings.
No, not just stop. He had to get rid of them. Cut any connection with them. Dealing with an aching heart was too much work and pain for a boy with heavy aspirations to bear. So he ignored you—erased you. He didn’t so much as spare you even a glance as if you were just another extra. Whenever you appeared, he made a move to leave, spouting excuses such as “I’m going to sleep,” or “I don’t have time to be around you losers,” the usual Bakugou Katsuki response to any form of unnecessary socializing. He had to act like you didn’t exist, put his mind on something else—anything else.
But darn that girl and her need to check on and care for other people.
Noticing something was wrong with the boy, you sought Katsuki out, cornering him. You asked him what was wrong, to which Katsuki gritted his teeth, unable to look at you in the eyes, knowing that those feelings would bubble up inside him again as they conjured troublesome butterflies in the pits of his stomach. Yet it was no use.
He couldn’t deny that he missed those times together—when you would patch up his wounds and bruises after training or when you’d let him try out your spicy ailments before half-and-half because you always knew he had a preference for spicy foods. He still had it bad for you.
And he continued to harbor those feelings even after you all graduated after your third year at U.A.
The heroes-in-training were ready to take on the real world as Pro Heroes and sidekicks. By then, you and Shouto had admitted to the class about your relationship. Some were surprised, while others, specifically the girls, expressed their rounds of “I knew it!” likely noticing the chemistry between the two long before. Katsuki had decided to play dumb and acted like this announcement meant completely nothing to him. Just useless news. That was what he told himself, anyway.
After that, Katsuki didn’t see much of the couple around. All of them were busy with work and trying to get their names out in the public to compete on the Billboard Hero Chart.
Which was good news for him. With his goal of becoming the Number One Hero still lodged into his head, the blond threw himself into his heroic duties. Often, he didn’t stop, persisting on job after job until the agency he was under forced him to take breaks whenever they deemed necessary for his health. In those times, Katsuki found himself slowly forgetting about you. But occasionally, he’d see glimpses of you again.
As expected of one of the graduates under Class A of U.A., you were definitely making a name for yourself and propelling in popularity. Whether he wanted to or not, Katsuki would see articles and advertisements glowing with your resplendent features plastered on headlines, covered by your hero name.
God, did you look as beautiful as always. Katsuki would think before jolting his mind back to reality, remembering that you weren’t his to ogle.
The last part was hard to bear, especially when his former class announced a reunion party at a restaurant Momo had reserved for them when everyone had hit the legal drinking age. Katsuki was definitely not keen on going. However, his friend Kirishima had convinced him to come along through relentless persistence.
Ultimately, he attended the reunion. He and Eijirou arrived together and appeared relatively earlier. Well, earlier than at least half the class anyway. Eventually, more of their former classmates trickled into the food establishment and greeted one another with boisterous cheers all around. Which, unfortunately for him, included the people Katsuki dreaded to see the most—you and Shouto.
Your hand was already laced with half-and-half’s when you two entered, resulting in some of their classmates teasing you about your public display of affection. Both didn’t mind though. Over the years, you’ve grown quite comfortable with hand-holding and even hugging in the open.
You know who did mind? A certain explosion hero, of course.
Save that shit for when I don’t have to fucking see it. He almost hissed out loud but bit his tongue at the last second.
To his luck, you had ended up sitting next to him, with Shouto at your left. Though you were sandwiched between two guys from your former class who were infatuated with you, Katsuki felt like he was more suffocated than you were.
The reunion that night went by relatively smoothly. You would chime in some small talk with Katsuki during certain intervals of time while everyone was holding their own conversations in the background. He did his best to keep his cool and not let himself act like a high schooler in love. To some degree, he thought his facade had worked as he played off his usual “Bakugou responses,” albeit with a lot less yelling and venom in comparison to how he spoke to everyone back in high school. Dare he say, he might have even softened up a bit. What he didn’t notice was Shouto glancing at him from the corner of his eye while in the middle of a conversation with Midoriya.
The night continued with rounds of alcohol poured across the table of twenty-one heroes. They made their cheers before helping themselves to their spirits. Conveniently, Shouto and Katsuki were very adept at holding their drinks. You? You weren’t as great. By the end of the night, you passed out from how drunk you were and had ended up laying your head on the table, head floaty and light.
By then, everyone else had left aside from maybe five or so people. Momo graciously helped the couple secure a cab home safely for the night, and Shouto had gotten up to help confirm some information. Katsuki was left to his own devices with you next to him.
His eyes couldn’t help but wander toward your form. You were so vulnerable in front of him, with your soft lips, splayed hair, and long eyelashes turned in his direction for him to see. Though a bit of that smell of alcohol lingered, he could still make out the flowery aroma you always gave off. You smelled of lavenders, daisies, roses—every fucking flower under the sun—with a hint of honey. Your scent intoxicated him. He started to wonder if this is how you smelled like at home, or if your scent became even more potent whenever you appeared fresh out of the shower and—
Katsuki hadn’t realized his hand had subconsciously gone up to brush a stray hair from your face until he managed to pull himself away from his thoughts. Thankfully, he retracted his hand back before committing himself to the act. But the gesture did not go unnoticed by the heterochromatic-eyed man who had appeared again to gather you in his arms.
Shouto had taken his coat and wrapped it around you before hooking his arms beneath you to cradle your body.
“Mm, Shouto…” you hummed against him, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you nuzzled further into him while on the verge of sleep. Katsuki’s heart throbbed hearing those half-dazed murmurs that left your lips, which hovered so close to that bastard’s neck. He wanted the privilege of holding you close and taking care of you at your most vulnerable.
“Come on, love, we’re going home,” he said fondly at your resting state. Katsuki didn’t catch the cold glare Shouto sent his way as he looked elsewhere to avoid the couple’s intimacy right in front of him. All he could hear after that was the engine of their cab rumbling in the distance, trailing back to their humble abode.
•
•
•
“...I know.” Shouto finally breaks the silence within the hospital room, eyes still trained on his beloved as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles to the base of your hand.
Katsuki looks up at his words incredulously. “The fuck is that suppose to mean.” He narrows his brows into a pressed glare.
“I know that you’re in love with her.”
Katsuki deadpanned, his eyes wavering at the man’s declaration. Should he deny it? Make it seem as if the icy-hot head was delusional? No. He knows that the signs must have been obvious coming from the one man in his way of vying for your attention, the man that would go to so many lengths for you that he’d travel to the moon and back in a heartbeat if it were in your name. Katsuki can’t pry himself out of this one.
He takes a glance at you. Was this really the place to be confronting him about this? In the presence of your unconscious state resting in this hospital bed between them?
“And what about it?” Katsuki counters his claims.
“I don’t plan on letting her go no matter what.” As if to make a point on his words, Shouto’s hold on your limp hand is firm, unmoving. He slowly shifts his gaze to the ash blond, crossing his look of anger. “So stop playing this game.”
When the words travel across the hollow hospital room and to Katsuki’s ears, his fists tighten in response. “Game? Game?!” He raises his voice, body shaking. “You think my feelings are some sort of joke to you?! That I’m only looking at her like this for fun?!” His eyes find Shouto’s blue and gray, red with ire. The young man in front of him is unfazed in the wake of his indignation.
“Let me tell you something fucking straight…” Katsuki starts, stepping forward, finger pointing fiercely in Shouto’s direction. “I won’t deny anything I feel for her at this point. I’m in love with her, alright?” he admits without hesitance and notices the subtle quirk of Icy-Hot’s brow. “And I’ll tell you that if she were mine, she wouldn’t have gotten in this position in the first place.”
Those words are what finally make Shouto’s unnatural composure crumble. He releases your hand to stand from his place and face the blond at eye level. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Crossing his arms, Katsuki scoffs at the question.
“You’d think I’d even let that villain get near her if this was gonna happen?” He gestures in the direction of your patched-up form, asleep and littered with bruises. “If she were looking at me, I would’ve already been on the scene to back her up. And just what were you doing, huh? Helping old ladies cross the street?” Katsuki is unfiltered as he hurls his insults, but three years of dealing with him as a classmate has made Shouto immune to his temperament.
“Let me get this through your head then. She was never looking at you. She was looking at me.”
Ouch. The blond would be lying if those words didn’t stir a pot of hurt inside him.
“And as both her partner and a fellow Pro Hero, I more than trusted her enough to finish the job on her own. Even if this isn’t a game to you, you’re already losing a battle you can’t hope to win.”
“Not sure why you’re the one calling the shots for her,” Katsuki quips. How ironic the girl they’re both fighting over lays comatose in this very bed between them.
The atmosphere is layered in dreadful silence afterward. The monitor next to you beeps in eery succession. It is the only thing heard in the hospital room that is wrapped in tension so taut it is bound to snap at any moment.
The knot of strife is undone by the door sliding open to reveal a nurse entering the uneasy state of the room.
“Mister Bakugou and Mister Todoroki, I’m sorry, but visiting hours at the hospital are closed for the evening,” she informs them as the two had yet to realize the sky veiled darkening orange with the setting of the sun. Eyeing the clipboard hugged to her chest, they knew it was about time for the hospital to assess your condition again.
The two make their leave, taking the time to thank the nurse before doing so, but the suffocating tension follows them even outside the hospital. They don’t speak a word afterwards, only sharing bristled looks and heavy steps until they’re forced to head off in their respective paths, not sparing any more kindness.
To Shouto, Katsuki would never understand the lengths he’d go for you because Katsuki could also never experience what the two of you went through together in the same way. All those years together, forging unforgettable memories of love and tenderness, could never be replicated.
But the blond isn’t bothered by those facts. It doesn’t unnerve him that he was unable to encounter all those firsts with you because in his mind, he’ll just create new memories—ones that you’ve never experienced and ones that will make him the last and only person you’ll ever want by your side. He’ll blow fucking Icy-Hot out of the atmosphere.
ending note: heyyy congrats if you’ve made it to the end. i think at the time i was writing this, i had an idea on how to progress the fic, but i decided to leave it on this. not particularly sure if i’m going to continue this, i may just leave it up to your interpretation. does katsuki steal the readers heart? does shouto protect his love from being severed in front of him? will the reader even wake up? find out on the next episode of dragon ball z
#bnha x reader#todoroki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo fic#bakugou fic#todoroki fic#bnha imagine#bnha fic#bakugou imagine#todoroki imagine#todoroki shouto x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader
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Baby Names
(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)
Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.
A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!
Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.
Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.
To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.
They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.
So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.
Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.
"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."
She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.
The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.
Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.
Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.
"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."
Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.
She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."
John Booker Routledge-Maybank.
Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.
Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.
It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.
She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.
Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.
"This crib is so fucking—"
"What are you doing?"
The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.
She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.
"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.
It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.
There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.
The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.
"This is about John B?" he asks.
Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.
Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.
"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."
With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.
He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.
One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.
He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."
This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.
"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"
His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”
It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.
Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.
Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.
They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.
In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.
JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.
In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.
He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.
Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank smut#outer banks#obx#fanfiction#obx s2#okay but ive been doing some thinking and i can formally declare that i think their song is call it what you want (by taylor swift)#it fits tbh
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Forget Me Not - part I
this work is based on this request
pairing : levi ackerman x reader
wc 1,8 k +
themes : reincarnation au, canonverse to modern au, Levi and Reader both reincarnate in modern au, Levi remembers his past life, reader does not.
warnings : lots of angst, death of reader, cursing.
You dragged your blades along the flesh of another titan's neck, tearing through it just enough to kill the giant. You watched the titan fall and crash while you landed on the ground using your ODM gear.
"Shit !" you muttered a bit panicked
Those were your last usable blades, all of the others already broke and the remaining ones were too damaged, weathered by the long and repetitive moves.
You looked around you, there were so many soldiers dead, their bodies lying flat on the ground, but you couldn't spot a single blade fit for use near any of the corpses, all of their swords had either been snapped in half, crushed or are still planted on the giant bodies trying to eat you alive.
Never had a battle been so demanding and tiresome, you don't recall seing a mission this gruesome, and you were a vet ! If there was a hell on earth, this would be it. Even the weather wasn't in your favor; it was raining blood, the air was filled with a repugnant smell that you soldiers were all too familiar with, the smell of titans body fluids and body parts rotting not far away from you. All of this was bearable you thought, grown accustomed to, what was never tolerable was the cries of your comrades getting eaten alive. The sound of their bodies crushed or getting bitten sounded new each time. It was strange, there was all this killing going on, all these horrible deaths happening right now, the rain and the muffled sounds of bones being crushed at the palms of faith, and some last words you could barely comprehend, but strangely enough, time seemed to stop for you, everything around you began to become distant and you could feel what resembled a calmness inside the turmoil inside of you. What was this odd feeling you thought, looking down at your hands, you observed the spoilt blades of your two swords, your hands weren't shaking anymore, and you found yourself in a bizarre state of apathy.
Did you accept your nearing death ? Were you going to stop fighting and let today be your last ? What could you do ? There were still more titans than soldiers, you were on your knees, incapable of making them move, even if there was a blade you could use on a body somewhere, you wouldn't be able to reach it without getting in the visual field of a titan, it would be like rushing to your death. You were stuck, your years of experience had taught you to assess quickly and effectively situations, and you knew you couldn't kill or save now, you could only run for your life, an option you couldn't bring yourself to do, maybe someone will come, someone with reinforcement and equipment.
You couldn't desert a battlefield. Looking up at the sky, you closed your eyes, cancealing the horrors of your surroundings, you prayed for one person to show up, only one person could make a way out of this hopeless situation.
Eyes still closed, you thought about Levi Ackerman, you wondered where he could be right now, you thought about the way he methodically does his job, nice and clean, no one being able to match his skills, you thought about how much he hated casualties and pointless deaths. As foolish and frivolous it was, you thought about his jet black hair and the way it would fall on his face while he escapes from a titan's grip, how his jaw clenches when he's faced with a particularly bothersome specimen, you weren't aware you picked up on those things until now, not to forget how his body spins, like a dancer in a deadly ballet. You also thought about how he always kept an eye on you every time you were together on a field, his eyes always trying to locate you somehow, you caught him so many times throwing worried glances at you, especially in dangerous situations, more than any other of his comrades. Did it mean anything ? You never thought about it that way, come to think of it, you never knew what Levi Ackerman thought of you, were you just a another comrade to him or someone more important ? Those questions were going to stay unanswered. All those times you caught him eyeing you, overprotecting you, asking you if you ate, slept, rested at the most random of occasions.
And him ? Did he know what you thought of him ?
You felt the ground tremble underneath you all of a sudden, you looked beside you and you saw a giant human-like feet, its nails extremely dirty, a long and deep cut carving an opening at its ankle, leaving the insides completely visible. When did you get accustomed to such disgusting sights ? The titan bent over, watching your form, you were looking up at him now.
He has a friendly face you thought.
You pictured Levi in your head, for maybe what you thought was your last moment. He hated futile losses.
"Don't you dare die on me" he always said.
An ear piercing sound blew out of nowhere and a black signal tore the sky apart. You saw a small figure jump from tree to tree using an ODM gear, you didn't recognize who it was until the silhouette landed next to you, only inches away. Blood and rain on his face, Levi pulled you up by your underarm.
"GET UP ! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING ?
"I don't- i don't know what had gotten into me Levi"
"I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT MOVE IT"
He let go of your arm and grabbed you by the collar of your cape and forced you to stand on your now shaky legs.
"I'm out of gas Levi"
"What ?"
If you've never seen Levi panic, you did now. His eyes darted around frenetically, from the titans to the dead bodies then back to you again. He was grabbing you by the arm again, you could feel his long fingers digging into your forearm, he was tense and panicking. Panicking because both of you didn't have horses, but mostly because he had only one gas bottle left.
Levi looked down, trying to asses the situation and come with a plan for both of you to shun the titans and get out safely while having just enough gas for one person. Feeling a hot puff on the top of your heads you both looked up just in time to see two big eyes and a large mouth ready to chop both of your heads off, Levi shot his grapple hooks and pulled you by the waist with him, you escaped this one, but he couldn't guarantee the others, this situation couldn't go one he thought. You landed far enough to be out of reach from the titan who just attacked you, but you could already spot two blonde abnormals noticing you and coming for you. Levi quickly grabbed his gas container and detached it from his gear.
"Here ! Take it ! This should be enough for you to escape far from titan territory !" Levi shouted under the heavy cascade of rain.
"What ? No !"
"Don't be fucking stupid ! Take it ! I can manage to escape without it somehow ! Forget about completing the mission ! We retreat NOW !"
You reached for the container and placed it on your own gear before standing up. One of the abnormal had come so close now you could see the veins on his ridiculously large stomach. Levi grabbed your arm one last time "I'm going to shot my hooks at the nearest tree, i'm gonna distract this one so you can escape ! You take the opposite direction"
You nodded while the ground shook harder now that the titan was in front of you, his gigantic form casting its shadow over you. You actioned your hand grips, your hooks flew right into a tree in the opposite direction of where Levi went, you prepared yourself to use the gas to speed up.
Levi thinking the titan would naturally follow him instead, landed on a giant oak before turning around. His face darkened as soon as his eyes landed on you. You were struggling to get past the titan who was still chasing you and ignoring Levi, how come you weren't moving fast, the amount of gas should have been enough.
Levi's felt his heart stop and sink down his stomach, he instinctively reached behind him and pulled up the container he still had.
It was full.
He had given you the wrong gas container.
He mixed them up and gave you the empty one.
That's why you were so slow, too slow.
Too late.
Looking up, afflicted, he launched forward screaming your name, but it was in vain and he knew it. He couldn't take his eyes off your small figure getting picked up by a giant human hand who didn't have the any struggle catching up with you.
You think you heard him scream
You think you heard him scream your name
You're not sure, but you think you heard him slash the titan's fingers and landing with you on the ground, the titan's blood pouring down on both of you, hot and sticking.
For a moment, you thought you were going to make it, but you got suddenly conscious of the grotesque laceration on your lower abdomen and knew that this was it. You weren't going to make it.
An indescribable pain, a man's cry of misery, and cold blood running through your veins, you watched your vision go black, and for a split of second, the feeling of falling down an immense pit was all you could think of, the voice of Levi's cries resonating against the walls of what you assumed was your consciousness.
"I'm sorry ! I'm so sorry !" "Forgive me !"
***
When you opened your eyes, the sunlight blasting through a nearby window blasted your vision, when your eyes adjusted to the lightening, you realized you were in a room painted with an immaculate white.
How did you get in this hospital room ?
Wait, how did you know this was a hospital room ?
Because it looks familiar
You tried to recall anything prior to this instant, but you couldn't. Your mind was blank, you grabbed your head with your two hands, how come your memory was so blank ?
Outside of the building, you could hear chanting ambulances and honking cars in the distance, making your head throb painfully. You looked at your right, a bed table was there, on top was a bottle of mineral water, your keys, and your purse with a stethoscope dangling from it. There was also flowers dipping in a small amount of water inside a glass.
Your purse ? Your keys ? You don't remember coming here by yourself ! You tried to get up and get out of bed but the thumping inside your head quickly urged you to lay back down rapidly. You closed your eyes to try and shut the pain but heard footsteps shuffling cautiously inside the room, eyes still closed you heard a familiar soft and young voice ask if you were awake.
#levi ackerman reader#levi ackerman you#levi ackerman y/n#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi ackerman imagine#levi ackerman series#levi ackerman fluff#levi ackerman angst#snk reader#snk you#snk y/n#snk fanfiction#snk fluff#shingeki no kyojin reader#shingeki no kyojin you#shingeki no kyojin y/n#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction#shingeki no kyojin imagine#aot reader insert#aot reader#aot you#aot y/n#attack on titan reader#aot fanfiction#aot imagine#attack on titan you#attack on titan y/n#attack on titan imagine#attack on titan fanfiction
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dilemma
— one late night, iwaizumi finds you at his door, drunk on fatigue and desperate to be held. he’s all but willing to give into your desires, however, he’s in the middle of a slumber party with his best friend. (gn!reader)
— tooth-rotting fluff, slight iwaoi, 2.3k words
“How did you even drive here? You can barely even walk,” your boyfriend wonders out loud, wrapping his arms around you to carry you bridal style and push his front door closed.
“I can manage,” you reply simply. It was a bit dangerous - getting up and having to unlock your car during this hour, but with the way Iwaizumi holds you, you forget all about that immediately.
All you know is that he’s warm, and he makes the perfect remedy to your insomnia. Already, you can feel the ache in your bones melting away with his touch.
You hum into his neck, your mouth naturally forming a dopey grin. “Mmmm, I like this.”
For a moment, he allows himself coo at your adorable state. How could he not? With every second, you’re losing sense of your surroundings. The more dazed you become, the firmer your embrace around his neck is. It’s a testament as to how much you trust him, and how much his presence comforts you.
But the fond gleam in his eyes is quick to fade when he reminds himself that just a few rooms away is Oikawa setting up for his 20 step nighttime routine - even on a sleepover.
Usually Iwaizumi grumbles about how it’s only one night - he can go one day without partaking in his entire skincare routine and come out okay - but today, it’s a blessing. Because Oikawa has no clue that you two are dating.
He’s suspected it, sure, but he’s never pushed it.
So, this is a bit of a dilemma. You’re exhausted and so deserving of an entire night’s worth of rest, but this was nowhere close to how your boyfriend wanted to come forward with his relationship with you - to be found cuddling in the living room. Already, Iwaizumi can hear the teasing comments of his best friend, and dare he says it, he’s a bit scared.
Iwaizumi is known to be a tough love sort of guy, so what is Oikawa supposed to think when he finds the ever so rough-around-the-edges spiker so weak in the knees? He’s spent far too long trying to break down tough exterior for you - to love you wholeheartedly... However, pride is a dangerous thing.
He doesn’t feel the need to have dignity around you. You have seen him in four out of five of his Godzilla onesies, and he has guarded the outside of a public restroom when your stomach had a very apparent reaction to the ice cream he had bought earlier that day. There is no need to be prideful in a comfortable, loving relationship.
But with Oikawa? Iwaizumi is a complete narcissist. Ever since his early childhood days, there was always something so fulfilling about beating him. Just recently, Iwaizumi was laughing over how the lunch lady gave him an extra loaf of bread, whereas Oikawa only received one.
Iwaizumi knows his best friend well enough to predict that Oikawa is going to be the bane of his (and your) existence. He’s going to tease and laugh, and as tough of a cookie your boyfriend is, there is only so much he can take before he starts to become self conscious about his affection.
Very subtly, Iwaizumi loosens his grip on you. Perhaps, out of nervousness.
“Could you let go for a bit? I’m gonna set you down on the couch,” he says, and you audibly whine.
“Noooo,” you slur out, lips pushed into a pout. “Then you’re gonna leave.”
“.... I’m not going to leave.”
It’s true - he wasn’t. But he at least wanted to distance himself enough so you two were in a less... intimate position.
“I’m so tired... please, Haji.” Your voice is barely a breathe, and instantly, his eyes soften.
He sighs reluctantly, pulling you in closer once again.
“Okay, baby. I won’t leave,” He whispers into your ear, so gently that it almost makes you sob. Maybe it’s the effects of sleep deprivation making you more emotional, but you swear on your life that you love this man.
You let out a sigh of satisfaction before planting a kiss on his neck.
“Why do you seem so tense?” you ask, taking note of the visible muscle tension on his shoulders.
“It’s just...” he starts, hesitantly. “Oikawa’s over for a sleepover tonight.”
“... He is?”
“Yeah. He’s in the bathroom right now, actually.”
You contemplate for a bit, dark thoughts creeping into your head. “Are you... ashamed of me?”
“No, y/n, of course not. You’re perfect,” he assures you without wasting a second. “You know how Shittykawa can be, though.”
“So, annoying?” You suggest.
“And troublesome,” he adds with a small smile.
“And obnoxious.”
“And punchable.”
“And loud.”
“And a pain in the ass.”
You burst into laughter. “You love him.”
Iwaizumi can’t help but break into a wide grin at the sound. “Don’t say that in front of him, though, or he’ll never shut up about it.”
Soon enough, you two are on the couch, limbs tangled together. Very slowly, your consciousness is slipping through your fingers as he draws ‘I Love You’s into your skin and talks about anything and everything. It’s sweet, natural, and nothing short of intimate.
“He’s going to be super annoying about this,” He grumbles. Though you were only half-paying attention to what he was going on about, it didn’t take much for you to understand he was talking about his beloved, Oikawa.
You sigh, and the ever so self-sacrificing part of you feels guilty.
“... I’ll leave if you’re not ready to reveal us to him.” Your voice is suddenly serious.
However, Iwaizumi only flicks the back of your head in amusement. “And why would I let you do that? You practically sobbed when I asked if I could let go of you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” You hiss between the teeth of your growing smile.
At this point, you two are giggling on the couch like a loved up married couple... which is essentially what you two are. Except, not married.
But Iwaizumi can see it - him and you under the altar. He can see the subtle changes in you, in your demeanor, and how comfortable you’ve grown to become with him. It’s an indicator that this was real, healthy, yet exhilarating all the same. And that was all he needed to know that he was going to be stuck in this thing with you for... a long time.
“Fuck, I love you,” Hajime tells you for no reason other than to say them. His laughter has died now, and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
You have to clench your teeth to stop your heart from bursting right then and there.
“I love you, too,” you whisper back, weakly. You don’t even realize that that was all you needed to sleep, because momentarily, you’re letting the tide of his breathing guide you to a slumber.
He leans downwards to kiss your nose, but with the way your nose scrunches in response, he can’t help but peck you again. One kiss becomes two, two becomes three, and shortly, he’s smothering your face in kisses.
“You’re so cute,” he murmurs without thinking. “Wish you would take care of yourself more, though.”
As if you can hear him in your sleep, you shuffle slightly, nuzzling into his neck.
Opting not to speak any further, he closes his eyes, trying so hard to stop smiling. But you’re here, arms wrapped around him like your life depends on it.
What time was it, again? Why were you two on the couch instead of his bed? Your relaxation is so contagious, Iwaizumi’s surroundings are becoming some sort of blur.
He even forgets what letter he left off on as he was writing ‘I Love You’s on your back, so he ends up writing ‘I Lvve Yoou’ instead this time. He takes it as a sign that he should probably sleep as well.
Right before he falls asleep, he lets himself have one last thought. Maybe if he pulls you in closer, he’ll find you in his dreams, too—
“Well, well, well,” a voice from afar cuts into his train of thought, and instantly, Iwaizumi’s weariness disappears. His eyes snap open, and there Oikawa was, standing by the entrance of his living room.
The grin splayed across his lips is wicked. Too wicked.
“Never thought I’d see you so soft, Iwa-chan,” The brunette mused.
Iwaizumi pushes his lips out to form a menacing glare, but if anything, it comes across as intimidating as an angry chihuahua. “Go away, Shittykawa.”
As if he doesn’t hear his best friend, Oikawa continues. “I’ve always had my suspicions... but this is something else.”
“Yeah, you caught us,” Iwaizumi sighs out, defeated. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you, but they couldn’t sleep at home so... here we are.”
Oikawa squints his eyes behind his spectacles, forming a thoughtful expression.
“... I’m happy for you,” he finally settles with, after a long moment.
Unknowingly, Iwaizumi tenses in your arms. He prays to god that you don’t sense it.
“What?” he practically whispers, dumbfounded.
The brunette has to suppress a laugh.
“I’m happy for you,” Oikawa reiterates, stronger this time. And he really is.
Tooru has watched the spiker since he was just barely five feet tall, followed him around when he would catch bugs and set them free, took him in many times when he caught a fever, paid for practically half of his Godzilla merchandise, and now... he’s watching Hajime lose himself to love. He’s touched, really.
(Although, he wont lie - Oikawa finds it hard to believe Iwaizumi managed to find someone before him.)
“Thanks,” Iwaizumi mumbles, uncharacteristically awkward.
Oikawa smiles. “Y/n’s out of your league, by the way.”
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, because he definitely knows. And once again, their dynamic is restored to its friendly nature.
“Go to sleep, Trashykawa. You can take my bed.” With that, Iwaizumi boyfriend pulls in closer to his chest.
The brunette nods, “Alright, alright. Let me get a glass of water, first.” He takes a few steps forward and the hardwood creaks from under him, causing him to blush in embarrassment.
“Wake them up, and I’ll kill you,” Hajime shoots the setter a look.
Oikawa huffs, offended. “So mean, Iwa-chan! Not my fault your floors creak!”
“I said go to sleep!” Now, Iwaizumi is glaring daggers into his best friend.
“Okay, okay,” his best friend raises his arms in surrender. “Geez, you’re too—”
“Do you guys ever shut up?” You ask suddenly, voice lower than usual. Iwaizumi instantly reddens in shame.
“Sorry Assikawa’s so loud,” your boyfriend whispers.
“I heard that!” Oikawa whines, pouting at both of you.
You frown. “You’re just as loud, Haji. I’m right in front of you.”
“... I’m sorry, baby.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Tooru mimicks, voice two octaves higher.
“Shut up, Shittykawa,” you and Hajime retort in unison.
“I take it all back, Iwa-chan. You both are big meanies,” the brunette cries, and suddenly, your boyfriend is sitting up and leaning forward to reach a sofa cushion that’s rested on top of his feet.
Oh, Lord.
More playful jabs are thrown at each other, and next thing you know, Iwaizumi and Oikawa are thrusting sofa cushions at each other. You sit up as well, arms crossed in annoyance.
Under normal circumstances, you would join in on the fun and gang up on Oikawa with your beloved boyfriend. But these are not normal circumstances. You are currently running on three hours of sleep, and to put it simply... you’re cranky. So cranky, you could punch someone without feeling even a bit of remorse.
All you wanted was to get a full eight hours sleep in your boyfriend’s arms for the night, was that so impossible? Well, apparently it was, because the chaos runs for another half an hour without rest.
And all you do is sit in the middle of it, hoping to pass out already.
Unfortunately, you do not pass out, and you have to weakly force yourself to get up from the sofa and into your boyfriend’s room to finally gain a bit of attention.
“Sorry,” Hajime mumbles as he enters the room, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Whatever,” you murmur into his pillow, burying your nose into his very own scent.
The bed dips from beside you, and an arm slithers around your waist. To his surprise, your grip around his pillow only tightens.
“Aw, baby...” He whisper into your ear sadly, and you hate how you can feel your body subconsciously wanting to move in closer.
But you don’t, all due to pride.
“We’ll sleep in the entire night, okay? Tomorrow, too,” He tells you, rubbing gentle circles into your stomach.
“‘Jus wanted to sleep...” You breathe out, your cheeks warming at how emotional you sound right now. Damn you, sleep deprivation, you curse inwardly.
“And you can,” he says softly. He kisses your shoulder and makes his way up to the back of your neck, slowly and so, so affectionate. “Just c’mere already. You’re too tense.”
You groan because he’s right, and he always is. You want to punch the stupidly big grin on his face as you begin to turn and face him, pressing your chest flush against his.
He’s a human heater so perfectly made for you. Immediately, his warmth seeps past your skin and goes right through your heart. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, immersing yourself in him completely.
You can’t really breathe all that well in this position, but whatever. You could suffocate in his arms, for all you cared. This feels too good, and you’ve lived a good life, anyway - a good enough life to have this teddy bear of a man be your lover.
“Good night, Hajime,” You say, muffled against his skin. You can’t see it, but his eyes light up with adoration.
“Sweet dreams, my sleepy baby,” he coos, peppering the top of your head with kisses.
Needless to say, you ended up getting ten hours of sleep that night, and in that time, Oikawa rewatched ET and made a full batch of pancakes all by himself. So much for bonding and spending extra time with his best friend.
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Also, we talked a mill years ago about an Inuyasha AU? You wanted to make G wear the necklace etc. Which OBVIOUSLY is a fantastic idea and I really which you would, please 🤣😘💗
Okay, so this isn’t exactly the necklace bit, but it’s the most Inuyasha crossover thing I could think of at the moment! Also I’m sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so long! <3 Oops!
Geralt turns into a human one night a month, during the new moon.
wordcount: 1.7k
TW: emotional Geralt whump, angst with a happy ending, pining
---
“Stay in the room,” Geralt instructed, glaring Jaskier down from his place near the door. The bard nodded obediently and made a show of pulling his recently acquired book from his travel bag.
“I might go down and perform for a bit, but I promise not to bring anyone back and I promise not to start any fights.”
“I’d rather you didn’t leave the room at all,” Geralt grumbled, “But I suppose the coin wouldn’t hurt.”
“Where are you going, anyway?”
“Next town over. Nightwraith.”
“Why can’t I come with you?” the bard pouted. His lower lip stuck out slightly and his eyes crinkled so cutely that it always made the Witcher question his ‘human’ parentage; there was a siren’s power in the way he turned up his nose and fluttered his pretty lashes. “Surely I could sit incredibly high up in a very sturdy tree and watch my glorious companion in all his… glory?”
“Excellent word choice,” Geralt rolled his eyes. He hefted his swords over his shoulder and shot the bard another meaningful look. “I’ll see you in the morning. Stay. Safe.”
“Yes, Milord,” Jaskier sighed dramatically, flopping back against the pillows and opening his book. “Return to me in as few pieces as possible, dear heart.”
“Hmm.”
And with that, Geralt disappeared into the late afternoon light.
---
There had been several distinctive changes to Geralt’s physical body after the second round of experimental Trials; his hair, of course, and his ghostly-pale skin were the most obvious. His greatest secret, however, and the strangest of all the Trials’ side effects, were the temporary changes he underwent on the nights of the new moon. His Witcher strength and senses abandoned him and his body returned to its pre-Trial state. He became, for all intents and purposes, a normal human man.
He hated it. He hated himself. There was no power behind his punches on his human nights and while he remained graceful and competent with his swords, he lost his speed and dexterity. It left him feeling helpless and alone, and an onslaught of emotions (which he was usually able to suppress or ignore) flooded his mind, pulling tears from his eyes and putting a ruddy redness on his cheeks and ears that he found ugly. No doubt Jaskier would find him just as hideous. And useless…
If he couldn’t protect the bard, the handsome young human who smiled at him as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be friends with a Witcher, then what good was he? Keeping Jaskier safe, keeping him alive and smiling like that, was what motivated Geralt to slump his way back to their room even when he wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and pass out from exhaustion. Making sure Jaskier was okay (and, alright, getting his wounds fawned over and his hair washed wasn’t too bad either) was what kept him alive.
I can’t believe I forgot to keep track, Geralt berated himself as he set up his small campfire just inside the mouth of a cave. I almost revealed my secret to Jaskier.
Geralt wasn’t sure which outcome he feared more: Jaskier seeing him in his less horrible state and rejecting him completely for keeping secrets/being a true monster, or Jaskier finding his human body attractive and being even more disgusted by his Witchery appearance. Geralt wouldn’t be able to stand either outcome, so he disappeared into the woods or back to the Path (if Jaskier was stuck in a town, teaching or performing) whenever the night of the new moon arrived.
He sighed and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his bent knees and setting his chin on one upright palm. He glanced up at Roach and grumbled out an excuse: “I just don’t want to lose him.”
Roach whinnied quietly, reproachfully, and Geralt nodded.
“You’re absolutely right, I should tell Jaskier about all of this, but if I tell him now, after travelling together for so long, he’ll think I don’t trust him. And I do trust him! I trust him as much as I trust my brothers, maybe more considering their pranks… But I don’t want to scare him off, either. I’m such a fucking coward.”
As the last light of day slipped away beneath the horizon and darkness fell, Geralt felt his hair grow coarser and heavier atop his head. His eyesight dimmed and his knowledge of the landscape - every scent and sound - disappeared from his consciousness. The scars on his skin faded away into nothing as his pupils dilated into circles, the irises shifting from honey-gold to a deep, forest green.
From a nearby bush, Geralt heard a familiar voice mutter, “Holy shit.”
He leapt to his feet and backed against the cave wall, throwing his arm across his face to hide it. “Dammit, Jaskier, I told you to stay at the inn!”
The bard took a nervous step forward, away from his hiding place, and waved bashfully. “Sorry, dear heart. Are you really- is it really you in there, Geralt?”
“Yes?” the Witcher-turned-human raised an eyebrow, lowering his arm back down to his side with no small amount of shame. “Who else would it be?”
“Well,” the bard said, taking a measured step forward. “I wasn’t sure if this was, like, a reverse-werewolf type deal. I didn’t know if you’d have the same memories as before or- or if-”
“It’s still me,” Geralt blushed, actually blushed, and dipped his head down to avoid Jaskier’s curious gaze. “I’m sorry for not telling you before, but-”
“Don’t.”
Geralt glanced back up, even more confused, his emotions playing havoc with his pulse. “I- Don’t I owe you an apology?”
“No,” Jaskier said, settling down on the rocky ground across the fire and gesturing for Geralt to join him. The flames lit up his face, highlighting the roundness of his cheeks and the softness in his eyes. So youthful, yet so determined. “If you’re still Geralt in here” - he tapped the side of his head and grinned playfully - “then you’re still my best friend.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh yeah, my Witcher is definitely in there somewhere,” Jaskier laughed brightly. The sound wound down and he wiped a tear of glee from the corner of his eye. After a long, sobering pause he asked: “So is this what you looked like before… they did all that stuff to you?”
“Before the Trials? Yes. This is what I looked like fifty years or so ago, when I was young and mortal. My shoulders are wider, of course, but that’s just old age.”
Jaskier made his way slowly around the fire, inching closer to Geralt, who had finally taken a seat on his bedroll. When the bard was right next to him, close enough for Geralt to feel their combined body heat through his shirt, he took a lock of Geralt’s hair in his hand. “It’s… it’s not as soft, like this. But it has curls! And it’s almost red!”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier looked overjoyed at the change, and every one of Geralt’s fears flashed before his eyes. He was tempted to wrench away, to fling himself up into Roach’s saddle and ride hard until they both needed a rest.
But Jaskier had begun talking again, and Geralt did his best to pay attention. “It’s different, but not bad. I think you’re only slightly more handsome when you’re a Witcher, but your eyes are a lovely shade of green and I’d love to do up your hair someday… if you’d like that. If you’d let me.”
Geralt made a startled noise and turned his head sharply, his eyes boring into Jaskier’s very soul. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course!”
“You don’t- you aren’t mad? Or scared? You don’t think I’m more approachable like this? You wouldn’t prefer me to be like this - like a human - all the time?”
Jaskier shook his head, a sadness Geralt often noticed but didn’t understand falling over his face. “Oh Geralt, you silly, silly, wonderful man. I don’t lo-” - he paused, took a deep breath, and continued - “I love you, okay? As a Witcher. Like this. I have always loved you and I will always love you, regardless of what you look like, but I fell in love with the White Wolf. The man whose reputation needed mending and whose heart… whose heart is so incredibly large despite how often the world tries to harden it.”
“Jaskier,” Geralt gasped. He clutched at his chest, the ache he felt there intensifying a hundredfold under Jaskier’s steady gaze. “I love you, too. I never thought-”
“You often don’t,” the bard teased, closing the space between them with careful, intentional slowness. “Now, keep up the good work and stop thinking entirely. Just kiss me, Geralt. Please?”
“Would you like it if I kissed you?” the Witcher asked, incredulous. Jaskier lifted one delicate hand and slid a lock of Geralt’s curly hair back behind his ear. He pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s cheek and smiled.
“Very much, darling.”
“Alright,” Geralt breathed, closing the space between them. It felt so much more intense like this, with his heart beating as quickly as Jaskier’s, threatening to burst from his chest because it was overflowing with happiness. His hand, smooth and unblemished in its current state, cupped the peach-soft skin of the bard’s cheek. He ran his thumb over the hinge of Jaskier’s jaw, feeling the bone and joint working as their mouths moved together. When they finally pulled apart they were both beaming broadly, “Was it okay?”
“You’re very soft like this,” Jaskier noted. “But I miss your eyes and your hair… when will my Geralt return?”
“I’m still yours, Jaskier. Even when I look like this,” Geralt frowned. Jaskier took one of the Witcher’s hands in both of his and held it flat over his heart.
“I know, my dear. And I’m always yours, of course. It’s just… odd. I’ll get used to it the more often I see it, I’m sure. How long does it usually last?”
“I’ll be back to normal when the sun rises.”
“Until then?”
“Come here,” Geralt held up the corner of his blanket. Jaskier shifted so that they were cuddled together, side-by-side. “Better?”
“Now that I’m with you? Of course.”
#geraskier#geraskier ficlet#geraskier inuyasha au#idk what i'm doing anymore#stina what have we created#vaguely inuyasha based content#human geralt#getting together#first kiss#bouncey's endless au collection#bouncey's endless getting together fics
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PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT
— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?
PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader
WORD COUNT: 1846
SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.
WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.
A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!
MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST
In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.
And oh boy, do they talk.
It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.
So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.
As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.
“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”
-
A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.
As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.
It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”
His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.
He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.
Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.
It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”
“So, you want me to go for it.”
You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.
“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.
He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.
It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.
Uh, what the hell just happened?
It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.
Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.
TAGLIST:
@raineeace
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne imagine#batman#batman x reader#batman imagine#justice league#pining bagels repeat
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And All Is Singing
One month after Song Lan restores him to life, Xiao Xingchen hears a child crying.
Or: XXC returns, and his past sins and loss of his golden core are not the only things haunting him.
SongXiao - past XueXiao - T - Read on AO3!
Thank you @gusu-emilu for the prompt!
* * *
One-hundred and fifty-seven years.
That’s how long it takes Song Lan to nurse Xiao Xingchen’s shattered spirit back to wholeness and return it to his preserved body.
And now, one month later, Xiao Xingchen lies awake in a roadside inn, wondering if he would have been better off remaining in Song Lan’s spirit-trapping pouch.
Useless. His dead-alive, new-old body is utterly useless. Death extinguished his golden core, left him empty. He can no longer sense the spiritual energy that let him find his way around without his eyes, no longer night-hunt with Song Lan, no longer do anything other than trip along at his partner’s side during the day and lie awake waiting for him to return at night.
No chance of atoning for his sins. No chance of doing anything to deserve this second chance at life.
He turns over onto his side, pretending he can feel the faint stir of spiritual energy in the moonlight he imagines on his face. A full moon, according to Song Lan. He tries to recall its silvery glow but finds that the memory has faded.
Just like everything else about him.
Something wet wells from the corners of his empty eyes, trickles down his cheek, dipping inwards towards his mouth.
It tastes of blood.
He wipes the tear away. Rolls onto his back. Closes his eyes beneath his blindfold.
No. Not quite right.
Patting beside the bed, he grasps the white horsetail whisk Song Lan has preserved all these years. Tucks it in his arms. Lies on his back again, still and silent and doing his best to prevent his chest from rising and falling.
He’s on the border between sleep and wakefulness when he hears it.
The faint sound of a child crying. Low and muffled, as if the child is afraid of being overheard.
A dream. Just a dream…
But he can’t forget the sound.
“Did you hear a child crying last night?” he asks Song Lan anyway the next morning. “I thought I heard something…”
We’re the only guests, Song Lan traces onto Xiao Xingchen’s palm.
Nothing the next night, just the mournful whistle of wind through the treetops as they camp beside the road. Or the next night, or the night after that, or the night after that.
Exactly one month later, Xiao Xingchen is lying beside Song Lan, mind hazy, when he hears it again.
A long, low wail, drifting in through the open window, a sound filled with pain and fear and loneliness. A lonely sound, full of pain and fear and loneliness, the whimper of a wounded child who doesn’t understand why it’s been hurt.
“Again!” Xiao Xingchen grips Song Lan’s arm. “Zichen, I heard it again!”
What?
“A—a child—”
Nothing. Sleep…
Song Lan is right. The night is silent. Just the soothing patter of rain on the roof, the rustle of the breeze ruffling the dripping trees.
But Xiao Xingchen rises, pads barefoot across the room, stands at the window. Warm rain mists his face when the wind shifts, and he fills his lungs with the scent of wet earth, grounding himself in the senses he has left.
A creak of floorboard behind him, and Song Lan lays a hand on his shoulder. Song Lan still dislikes touching other people, but he makes occasional exceptions for Xiao Xingchen.
Xiao Xingchen misses the casual, easy touch of—
Of no one, he tells himself, banishing all thought of Yi City from his mind, as he has countless times these past two months.
But he still offers Song Lan his palm, as much to feel his skin on his as to allow him to speak.
All right?
Xiao Xingchen closes his hand around Song Lan’s. It’s cold, but better than nothing. “I’m fine.”
Don’t look fine, Song Lan says, and slips his hand away.
“I just want to be alone for a bit.” As if he isn’t alone most nights while Song Lan goes night hunting. “I’m going to get some fresh air.” He takes Shuanghua and his walking stick—his last memory of A-Qing—(Don’t think about her, either) —and leaves their room, taps his way out of the inn, goes to stand outside in his thin white inner robe.
He removes his blindfold and tilts his face up to rain, squeezing the cool mud of the courtyard between his bare toes. He walks on a little farther, heart in his mouth at his inability to feel the spiritual energy around him, of walking blindly into the unknown—
Courtyard. Trees, he reminds himself. As always when entering a new place, Song Lan has described it for him. Nobody is around this late in the rain; you’ll be safe.
And if you get lost, Song Lan will always find you.
Always.
Sweeping his stick before him, he walks until he hits the treeline, walks on farther until he enters a clearing. Lies on his back in the wet grass. His blindfold is off, face turned up to be kissed by the warm rain he can no longer sense, only feel.
Washed with rain, soaking in nature, he’s as close to being at peace as he has been since that horrifying realization that he had been returned against his will to the world he’d tried to leave, since waking up in darkness, stabbed with grief and terror so sharp it was like a knife to bone.
The grief had softened into a gentle ache over the loss of A-Qing, but the terror had never truly dissipated, just twisted itself into a fear of an empty future, of an eternal life devoid of worth.
Song Lan uses resentful energy to night-hunt. You don’t seem to have any, but perhaps you can cultivate your core again…whatever you are, you’re not a fierce corpse; perhaps this is still possible. You can be useful again, do good…
Like a puff of air displacing a flower petal, the thought dispels the peaceful feeling, letting the dark thoughts seep in.
Cultivation is what allowed him to cause all the harm he had. Led him astray, helped trick him into killing those villagers, killing...killing Song Lan.
Even to night-hunt again, to vanquish demons alongside his partner—
Not worth it. Not worth the risk.
Not even with Song Lan beside him to protect him from people like—people like—
Don’t think about him.
Think about Song Lan instead.
Song Lan. Song Lan, tending his spirit for a hundred and fifty years with unceasing devotion Xiao Xingchen knows he does not deserve yet still welcomes the thought of.
Warmth blooms in his empty chest as he sinks into the memory of Song Lan holding him every night during those first terrible few weeks despite his aversion to touch, caring for him like a newborn child…
Child.
No. A dream. All a dream…
Silence. The soothing patter of rain on leaves, the warm wetness weighing down his limbs, the earth soft and solid beneath him.
He’s drifting along the border of sleep when he hears it again.
A little boy, by the sound of it.
Not entirely human, by the feel of it.
It wants something from him.
Needs something from him.
It’s almost overwhelming, the pure desperation radiating from the huddled ball of tormented spiritual energy. Different from how he used to sense spiritual energy, but just as distinct.
A whisper of mist over his hand, as if the spirit is touching him, and he opens the eyes he no longer has.
A flash of—of something approaching sight. A cloudy glimpse of a little boy, no older than six or seven, with tear tracks on his filthy cheeks.
“What's your name?” Xiao Xingchen murmurs. He keeps his voice soft, but it’s too much. The spell is broken. The spirit fades into the night, melted by the rain, and Xiao Xingchen is left in darkness again.
He doesn’t tell Song Lan what he sensed that night— saw that night. Can’t risk Song Lan dispatching the spirit before Xiao Xingchen understands what it wants from him.
Needs from him.
Another month passes, each day creeping by.
Anticipation builds as the full moon approaches.
He’ll be ready, this time.
There is no rain this month. Song Lan leaves for a night-hunt before the sun has fully set, heading out into the nearby forest. Full moons always draw out spirits and ghosts. Fuxue will be well-fed tonight.
As soon as he leaves, Xiao Xingchen sits cross-legged in the center of their bed and begins meditation.
Not just meditation.
He has no golden core left to draw upon, but he enters as deep of a meditative state as he can. Reaches out with his feelings, sinks into a state as close as possible to Empathy, into the hazy borderlands between consciousness and sleep.
A scuffling sound, as if something is crawling out from beneath the bed, and again he feels the spirit’s cold touch.
The boy is clearer this time. Misty around the edges, and glowing with a dim silver light, but clearly outlined in the darkness of the room. His hair is long and matted, face gaunt, his throat and cheek bruised and cut. His free hand is tucked inside his ragged tunic, the other resting lightly on Xiao Xingchen’s hand.
“What is your name?” Xiao Xingchen asks, though he doesn’t dare speak the words out loud.
The boy shakes his head.
“What happened to your hand?” Xiao Xingchen asks, trying again. The desperate need of the little boy is almost overwhelming, burning in his sunken black eyes. “What can I do to set you at rest? How long have you been like this?”
The boy shakes his head, but he draws his hand out from his tunic.
It’s all Xiao Xingchen can do to keep from jumping to his feet and breaking the trance. The boy’s left hand is a skin-bag full of pulp, the little finger severed at the joint. Slivers of bone jut through the swollen purple flesh, bright red blood oozing from around each sliver as if the wound is fresh and not enough time has passed for the bleeding to truly start.
“Who did this to you?” Xiao Xingchen whispers, sick, and the desperation in the child’s eyes suddenly turns to undiluted hatred so powerful it’s as if his frail body can’t contain it.
“Chang Cian,” says the boy, and at this Xiao Xingchen does start back, shattering the trance, because he now recognizes the boy.
Recognizes Xue Yang.
Xiao Xingchen doesn’t speak at all the next day. Or the next. On the third day Song Lan finally reaches for his hand.
What’s wrong?
“Nothing.”
Not nothing.
And so he tells him. It can only help if Song Lan banishes the repugnant little spirit, rids Xiao Xingchen for good of the ghost of his tormentor, banishes the last scrap of memory.
Sure it was him?
“I’m positive.”
What will you do?
Xiao Xingchen pulls his hand away and continues walking. They’re on their way to Xinjiang, where they heard of a spate of violent hauntings that the main clans have ignored. “Nothing,” he says. “He deserves whatever purgatory this is.”
Suffering much?
Xiao Xingchen hates the ugly feelings welling in him, hates the cruelty he hears in his own voice. “I think he’s trapped in the last moment he was—was uncorrupted, which was—”
An unwanted memory: "But the man was so irritated at the sound of his crying, that he snatched the driver’s whip and lashed the child’s face, knocking him to the ground. Then the wheels of the carriage rolled over the child’s hand, one finger at a time. He was seven! The bones of his left were completely crushed, while one finger was milled into battered flesh on the spot!"
Song Lan makes a questioning sound in the back of his throat.
Xiao Xingchen walks faster. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
They camp by the side of the road that night. Neither of them need to eat or drink, but Xiao Xingchen needs to sleep, and both appreciate the heat of a fire.
Song Lan takes his hand again as they settle down around the campfire.
Enough time. Enough pain.
Meaning: Hasn’t enough time passed? Hasn’t he suffered enough? Atoned enough?
A spurt of resentment. It’s been harder and harder to keep his usual tight grip on his negative emotions. He’s slaughtered entire villages; what difference would anger or bitterness or selfishness make in the cosmic scheme of things?
“He wiped out your entire temple,” he says. “Killed everyone you ever cared about.” Drove me to death, he adds, but not aloud. Isn’t that alone enough for you?
For a moment he thinks Song Lan is going to accuse him of being the cause of his temple's destruction, as he had on the terrible night so many years ago, but Song Lan just shakes his head.
Don’t forgive him. Will never forgive. But enough time. Enough pain.
“So you don’t care, as they would have all been dead by now anyway. Celibate monks, a mere blip.” Xiao Xingchen hates how good the words feel leaving his mouth, hates how he can’t stop himself from saying them, hates how he doesn’t want to stop himself.
Xingchen—
“The people I killed, entire bloodlines ended— ” The words tumble out, tripping over each other. “ —that can never be atoned for, that can never be undone—”
Worse than what happened to your temple, are the unspoken words, and Xiao Xingchen can almost feel the pain he knows must be twisting Song Lan’s face, and he’s crushed by a wave of guilt.
Xue Yang did this to him. Xue Yang turned him into this useless, empty, cruel thing.
A child. Song Lan’s touch is even lighter than usual, almost hesitant. Just a child, now…
“A monster,” says Xiao Xingchen, and he rises and strides off into the forest, leaving Shuanghua behind.
Song Lan lets him go.
A month. He has another month to decide what to do. A month to savor the thought of the little boy’s terror and agony and—and—
Xiao Xingchen sinks to his knees, dissolving into a fit of tears.
Shameful tears that he does his best to hold in but can't. Instead he sobs silently, the blood staining his pure white robes, sobs until there’s no strength left in his thin, empty body. He lies curled up amongst the fallen leaves, holding A-Qing’s stick to his chest, the memory of the little boy’s tear-stained face rising before his sightless eyes.
The memory of His hand on his elbow, His chin on his shoulder, His arms around his waist. His mouth on his, the sound of His laugh, the taste of His oversalted congee.
A month. A month of this—
Xiao Xingchen digs the heels of his palms into his empty eye sockets.
He can’t take a month of this.
Or even another night.
He drags himself up onto his knees, digging his fingers into the damp earth.
I forgive you! he cries out with every part of him but his voice. I forgive you! Just stop haunting me!
Nothing.
Nothing—
He sinks back to the forest floor, a single tear trickling from the corner of his eye.
Desperate for the oblivion of sleep, he slows his breathing, focusing on the forest around him. The whisper of the breeze. The burble of a nearby brook as it rushes towards the river. The trill of a nightbird. The rustle of a mouse in the underbrush. He can almost hear the ants swarming up and down a nearby tree trunk—
“You lied.”
Xiao Xingchen opens his nonexistent eyes. The little boy is sitting beside him, staring down at him solemnly.
“You lied just now.” His high thin child’s voice is incongruously world-weary. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not what I need.”
Xiao Xingchen wants to sit up but is afraid of breaking the spell. “What do you want?”
The little boy tilts his head at him. He’s different tonight, somehow. Older, though he looks the same. He’s no longer crying, and there’s an oddly keen look in his sunken black eyes.
“What do you want?” he returns.
A surge of frustration. Xiao Xingchen sits up, meaning to sever the connection, but though he’s upright he’s still in the trance, still trapped by the little boy. The moon should not be full, but an enormous silver globe floats behind the boy, cut through with what must be tree trunks, black against the white, and he can just see the silvery outlines of his own limbs.
“What is that you want?” The little boy’s frail, high-pitched voice is somehow piercing. “What do we all want?”
Xiao Xingchen surrenders. What does it matter if he tells the truth? He’d already laid himself bare in Yi City. There is nothing about him that Xue Yang does not already know.
“To make an impact,” he says. “To make a difference in the world, despite the loss of my eyes. But I can’t, not like this, so all I’ll have left are the atrocities I’ve committed.”
The little boy gazes past him. Blood drips from his bone-pierced hand, as if it has finally begun to bleed, and wells from the cut on his cheek.
“Did I make any impact?” he asks.
A stab of hatred. The memory of Shuanghua piercing flesh. “More than most.”
“On you?”
Xiao Xingchen laughs. “How can you ask that? Look at me!”
The boy’s eyes are sad. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“You lie.” The desperation is back, the overpowering need. “Another lie!”
“Xue Yang,” Xiao Xingchen says aloud, speaking the name like an epithet, and the little boy clutches at his sleeve, staining the white with red.
“That’s not all—I know it isn’t—”
“That’s not all you ever were,” Xiao Xingchen admits, filled with a desperation of his own, a sudden frantic need to rid himself of this specter, to banish it forever, by any means necessary, even the truth. “I—I cared for you once—you made me—happy—”
I cared for you once. He winces as the words leave his mouth, at the words he had never spoken aloud even during their best days in Yi City.
They hang in the air between them, catching the light from the ghostly white moon, quivering and diffident, but solid.
The faint silver light clinging to the boy intensifies as he leans into the words. The glow brightens, brushing his skin with radiance.
Peace fills his face.
“Thank you, daozhang,” he says, and he melts into a shimmering mist.
It’s not sorrow that makes Xiao Xingchen break down. It’s not even relief.
He doesn’t know what it is, except that he’s not strong enough to resist it from overpowering him.
The blood pours from his eyes, soaking his robes, absorbs the red stains left on his arm by Xue Yang’s crushed hand. He cries until there’s no blood left in his body, loud, body-wracking sobs that, for the first time in his life, he does nothing to resist or hide.
The world has changed when he finally looks up.
Silvery light illuminates the forest. The moon is gone, but its glow remains, radiating from the trees, the grass, the soil.
His range of vision expands, encompassing the entire forest, the river, the vast sweep of the mountains and the entirety of the sky.
All is silver. All is singing.
Now, drifting in the space-between, he can sense the thousands upon thousands of spirits wandering the earth, see them burning like blazing beacons of need, waiting for him to come and set them too at peace. He himself is a silvery flame, his bloodied limbs alight with a luminescence born not of spiritual energy, nor of resentful energy, but something in between.
The light becomes bright and brighter, the spirits’ light merging with that of the land, a dazzling white light that fills the emptiness inside him, chases away the shadows filling his chest.
Xiao Xingchen wakes.
* * *
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#mdzsnet#song lan#xiao xingchen#xue yang#songxiao#xuexiao#cql fanfic#mdzs fanfic#mdzs#cql#the untamed
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Sweets (Soft Yandere! Jungkook)
You keep being visited by the most peculiar thief…
➵ in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing…
➵ Warnings: Soft Yandere Jungkook, Breaking & Entering but without the Breaking, Reader is a bit of a ditz (lol sorry guys)
➵ Word Count: 4.2K
➵ Masterlist
“Hello, uh, I’d like to… report a crime?”
Your statement, which had always sounded suitably firm and assertive when you practised it in front of the bathroom mirror, ended with an unplanned upturn, making it sound more like a question than you would like.
“Please state your name and address, ma’am.”
You did so, listening anxiously to the tap of a keyboard as your information was filed away. The undoubtedly over-worked police officer on the other end of the line sounded like he was two seconds from falling asleep, and you questioned yourself for the millionth time over whether you really needed to report this or not.
“What is the nature of the crime you are reporting, ma’am?”
“Um… well…”
You twisted your hand into the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, trying to decide the best way to explain the strange little occurrences that had been surrounding your apartment over the last few months. You had not yet found a way to put it without sounding ridiculous, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.
“I, uh, I think someone’s breaking into my apartment and stealing things.”
“You have an intruder?”
“Uh huh,”
“…Are they currently in your residence?”
“No, I think… they come and take things when I’m not here and then they’re gone by the time I get back.”
“What items have been stolen?”
You bit your lip.
“I know it sounds silly, but…”
“No crime is too small to report, ma’am. We are committed to making the lives of everyday citizens safer.”
“Well… they’ve stolen my lip balm like… several times. I keep buying new ones and they keep being stolen after a week or so. And my perfume. And my hairbrush one time, and-”
“Ma’am,” The officer cut you off with the impatience you had been both anticipating and dreading ever since you decided to call the police, “Listen, we don’t have the capacity to deal with prank callers-”
“It’s not a prank call!” You blurted, a momentary burst of desperation overtaking you, “I- um, sorry for interrupting, officer, but this isn’t a prank call. Things have been going missing. I can’t afford to keep replacing my lip balm.”
A sigh crackled across the line, and you pictured the officer maybe taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose like those people in movies always seemed to do when they got frustrated. Personally, you had never found that it helped.
“Are you sure you aren’t just… misplacing them?”
You gasped, offended that even a stranger could think you so stupid. “No! I remember exactly where I leave things and then they just vanish! I swear!”
“Has anything of value ever been taken from your apartment?”
“Yes!” You exclaimed, excited to be able to prove the officer wrong, “My bunny plushy! Mr Snuggles is extremely valuable to me!”
“…Monetary value, I meant. Has anything expensive ever been taken from your apartment?”
There was an embarrassing silence. The officer sighed again, with a little more exasperation colouring his tone.
“If anything significant is stolen, call us back. For now, just… be a bit more careful with your possessions.”
He hung up. You pressed your forehead against the wall and wished your strange thief had taken your phone in one of his little visits. Maybe then you would’ve avoided making that agonising call.
The next morning as you were leaving to go to class, you noticed a pile of discarded post-it notes on your desk — the remnants of a redbull-fuelled late night study session. Your newly purchased lip balm lay next to it. Impulsively, you grabbed a pen and scrawled a message on one of the post-its, sticking it horizontally to the curved surface of the lip balm tube.
it reads:
pls don’t take this i just bought it and this brand is actually v expensive and i am only a struggling college student with loans and chapped lips (。•́︿•̀。)
It might have been a little too polite considering it’s intended recipient was someone who had stolen multiple items from your apartment, but you figured there was no point in being rude. They probably wouldn’t even read it anyway.
You strolled out of your apartment, planning to pick up a smoothie on the way to your lecture, and promptly forgot all about it.
When you returned home to find a pile of newly bought lip balms on your desk — all embossed with the logo of your favourite brand — you were slightly puzzled. But, once you remembered the note you had left- well, the confusion didn’t exactly vanish, but at least you were given some context.
The note had disappeared, along with the lip balm you had used a scant few times. But, you didn’t understand what the thief’s aim was. Why on earth would they steal small things like lip balm and perfume? And why would they buy you new copies of the product? Wasn’t that counterproductive?
you’re very bad at your job
Your next note read, stuck to your fridge as you left to grab coffee with your study group. It remained there for a few days, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart sank a little each time you saw it hadn’t been taken.
After six days, when it finally vanished, you felt an odd sense of happiness bubble up within you. Yes, there was someone routinely breaking into your apartment, but at least now you had an open channel of communication with them. They had left a brand new bottle of your preferred perfume — which had been stolen at least twice before you stopped bothering to buy it because perfume is pricy — resting on your kitchen counter, beside a box of your favourite chocolates.
As you dug into the box later, snuggled in a blanket and having a Studio Ghibli film marathon, you didn’t even consider the fact that the sweets might be tampered with. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve killed me already, you reasoned to yourself, sucking the icing sugar off your fingers. Nor did you question how they knew your favourite chocolate. If they broke into your apartment as much as you assumed they did, they probably knew you better than your own parents by now.
You were the very definition of a broke college student. As far as you were concerned, if this random stranger wanted to buy you things and sometimes clean up your apartment — you had definitely come back to a home tidier than you had left it more than once — then you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a little naïve of you, but… you had already called the police, and they hadn’t cared.
thank you for the perfume and chocolate <3
You wrote next morning, hesitating slightly before putting the heart. Before you could convince yourself not to, you scribbled another line underneath.
i wish you’d write back someday…
As you walked to class, you scolded yourself for the butterflies swooping in your stomach. They’re literally a criminal, you told yourself, Stop getting crushes on anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention. You don’t even know their name.
Despite the small amount of common sense that you did have mocking you all day, you sat in classes and daydreamed about your mystery home intruder. Would they read the note? Would they be happy about your appreciation? Would they — you bit your lip — would they write back?
You felt like a dumb schoolgirl, excited by the prospect of a badly written love note shoved in her locker. And, like a school girl, you trudged back home with your arms weighed down by class work, a billion essays and quizzes that had to be completed overnight. Did your professors not realise you had a life outside of college? Not that you did, of course, but like… in principle.
You were so preoccupied with the coursework that you didn’t even notice the note stuck to your bedroom door. After an hour of studying, you rose wearily to start fixing yourself something to eat, and your eyes snagged on a flash of yellow.
You squeaked, almost falling over yourself in your rush to get to the door and read the note.
i’m glad you liked them. i’m sorry i took your things, that was mean of me. i tried to only take things you wouldn’t miss, but i guess that backfired… i just wanted to feel close to you. and these notes… are the closest i’ve ever been. i know that must sound weird, but… well. i’m a weird guy, i guess. i just liked hearing from you. that’s all.
~ koo <3
You didn’t stop freaking out for a full five minutes. After that, you poured over every detail of the letter, eager to extricate any fragment of knowledge possible. You ended up with a list which you scribbled down in your diary, above which you pasted the note.
The list went as follows:
They want to feel close to you
They have not talked to you before, since the notes are the closest they’ve ever been, but they must have seen you in person at least once
They are a he
(you adamantly did not get flustered about that)
and
4. He calls himself Koo
When you left your apartment the next morning, you placed your note on the exact same spot he had left his. An indirect touch.
hi koo !!!!!!!!
i was so excited to see you had written something!! you know, if you want to talk to me more often, there is an easier way…
Underneath you had scrawled your phone number, hastily and not allowing for regret before you flounced out of the apartment. The reason why you were in such a rush was because you were about to go to your favourite class: Photography 101.
You had taken it as an extra credit, something that interested you but not enough that you wanted to pursue it as a career. You had expected it to be fun, something artistic to break up the monotony of classes. What you had not expected was the dreamy boy who sat in the first row and had full possession of your heart.
You didn’t even know his name, but you were pretty sure you were half in love with him. With fluffy brown hair that fell over his forehead whenever he leaned over to scribble down notes, and cute bunny teeth that stuck out in a flustered smile whenever the professor praised his work in class, he was perhaps the cutest boy you had ever seen.
Though you were sure he had many girls sighing after him, he seemed to be really shy, only ever speaking in class when called on, and even then it was in a quiet, soft voice. He was kind of like you in that respect. But that was where your similarities ended.
Yes, you thought, sighing as you watched him pay avid attention to the professor’s lecture on the composition of frames, his cute doe eyes wide and twinkling like stars were embedded in the pupils, He is way out of my league.
It took three days for you to lose hope. You hadn’t received a text, nor had you found any notes left for you. You tried not to be disappointed, even as your traitorous sub-conscience mocked you for being able to scare away the one person who arguably paid you the most attention.
You didn’t really have many friends, and the ones you did have preferred each other over you, and often left you out of activities because of your shy nature. You guessed this whole thing had just been a way to feel like you actually mattered to someone, like, for once, someone cared about you, but-
You were pulled out of your musings as your phone chimed.
From: Unknown Number
[6:48 PM]
hi
this is koo
The two of you texted every day, and soon enough you were hiding your phone underneath your desk in order to chat to him, keeping your phone on your person at all times in case koo wanted to talk. Of course, the only class you didn’t do this in was Photography, so you could spend a blissful forty-five minutes staring at the boy who played the role of your husband in all of your favourite daydreams.
Koo still broke into your house occasionally, and he still left you sweet, considerate gifts. Often, you would receive texts like this:
From: koo ✨
[3:24 PM]
sweets i’ve been checking your groceries and your vegetables are not being eaten as often as they should be
i know you have a sweet tooth and that’s cute but please try to stay healthy
To: koo ✨
[3:25 PM]
but i can’t cook all i know how to make is microwaveable mac n cheese :///////
You came back home that day to discover a bunch of Tupperwares full of pre-made healthy meals and a note stuck to the top of them.
try microwaving these :)
To: koo ✨
[3:01 AM]
koo are you awake?
From: koo ✨
[3:01 AM]
i am now
what’s wrong?
To: koo ✨
[3:02 AM]
i can’t sleep :////////
From: koo ✨
[3:02 AM]
sweets you need to go to bed
you have an early morning class
To: koo ✨
[3:02 AM]
i knowwwwww
i just… i can’t sleep without mr snuggles :((
From: koo ✨
[3:03 AM]
Mr Snuggles??
???
To: koo ✨
[3:03 AM]
my cuddly bunny :((((
i think you took him a while ago
could i maybe have him back…?
From: koo ✨
[3:03 AM]
Shit
i didn’t know you couldn’t sleep without him
[3:04 AM]
sweets im so sorry
To: koo ✨
[3:04 AM]
its okay koo
From: koo ✨
[3:04 AM]
no it isn’t
you’re loosing sleep because of me
fuck
i could… bring him to you?
To: koo ✨
[3:05 AM]
you’d do that?
…i could see you?
From: koo ✨
[3:05 AM]
no i’d leave him outside
you’d have to promise not to come out until i text you saying i’ve left
To: koo ✨
[3:06 AM]
but kooooo :(((((
From: koo ✨
[3:07 AM]
sweets
To: koo ✨
[3:07 AM]
okay :((((((((((
but i expect you to leave a big box of chocolates on my pillow for me to come home to tomorrow evening!!
From: koo ✨
[3:08 AM]
of course sweets <3
im gonna get going now
don’t look outside your apartment
To: koo ✨
[3:08 AM]
okay
From: koo ✨
[3:34 AM]
im gone and mr snuggles is waiting outside for you
he might have a little gift with him
You trudged outside your apartment, rubbing your eyes blearily, and looked down to see your beloved plushie clutching a single rose in its paws. You gasped, leaning down to pick up the flower gently, and you noticed all the thorns had been taken off. Koo must’ve removed them so that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself.
You felt warmth flood you, drowning the butterflies in your stomach and replacing them with something much less fleeting, much less shallow.
It sunk into your bones, into your heart, into your breath as you sighed, squeezing your long-lost Mr Snuggles close to your face. He carried the familiar scent of nostalgia, but also something different, something sharper. You realised with a jolt that you were smelling Koo’s cologne.
You went back to bed, nuzzled your face into the plushy’s furry belly, and dreamed of fluffy brown hair and bunny smiles.
Though with Mr Snuggles’ help you were able to sleep wonderfully, you were only able to do so for four hours before your alarm jolted you back into early reality. Honestly, you were sorely tempted to just ditch class, but it was Photography, and if you missed your regular dose of the cute boy in the front row then you thought you might just crumble into dust.
You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your softest oversized hoodie — a gift from Koo which, now that you thought about it, smelled like the same cologne that Mr Snuggles did. You flushed at the thought of him giving you one of his hoodies to wear, though you couldn’t say exactly why that image charmed you.
You stumbled into the lecture, arms full of textbooks because you knew you wouldn’t have the energy to return back to your apartment to retrieve the relevant materials for your next class later in the day. Your excellent plan was to crash in the library directly after this, have a two hour power-nap, and then make yourself get up in time for Calculus.
You barely had the energy to listen to the professor droning on and on about… the perfect lense, or whatever. You allowed yourself the indulgence of tuning out, resting your chin on your palm and gazing dreamily at the boy in the front row. He was taking notes, as per usual. What a good student! You praised him in your head. I bet he has the best handwriting.
Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep within ten minutes. You were woken as the class concluded by the clamour of students grabbing their materials and the scrape of chairs as your classmates stood up, leaving you behind — the only one half-splayed across the desk in front of you.
You jerked upright, grabbing your stuff in one hand as you tried to tug on your bag, eventually succeeding with much struggle, only to drop it all again as soon as you stood up. You whimpered, watching helplessly as your textbooks fanned across the floor. You saw one of them split along the spine as it landed on an open page.
That cost me two hundred dollars, you thought absently, and I just chucked it down like a bouncy ball.
Suddenly, you glimpsed someone crouching down and gathering them all up into a sturdy pile. As he stood up, your vision was full of fluffy brown hair, errant strands falling into star-filled doe eyes.
Oh. Oh no.
“H-Here you are,” He murmured, passing you the pile gently, making sure you were able to take the weight before leaving them in your arms. When he leaned close to you, you breathed in a scent that was oddly familiar, and yet new at the same time. As his hands receded, his skin brushed against yours for a second and you swear your vision blanked out.
“Thanks,” You whispered, your gaze so firmly focused on the floor that you didn’t notice his flushed cheeks.
As soon as you got to the library, you whipped out your phone, all tiredness banished from your system by that momentous experience. You had talked to him.
To: koo ✨
[8:47 AM]
koo i think im in love
From: koo ✨
[8:47 AM]
what
with who
To: koo ✨
[8:47 AM]
this boy in my photography class
he’s just so-
[8:48 AM]
i can’t even explain it
i dropped my textbooks and he picked them up for me and i stg i almost cried
From: koo ✨
[8:48 AM]
wait
seriously??
To: koo ✨
[8:49 AM]
yeah i cry at like the drop of a hat
From: koo ✨
[8:49 AM]
no-
cute
but i mean
that’s who you’re in love with?
To: koo ✨
[8:49 AM]
yeah?
From: koo ✨
[8:49 AM]
gray sweater
[8:50 AM]
big eyes
tall-ish
that’s him???
To: koo ✨
[8:50 AM]
OMG YOU’RE IN MY PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS AREN’T YOU
From: koo ✨
[8:50 AM]
WHAT
NO
IM NOT
To: koo ✨
[8:50 AM]
OMGGGGGGG
YOU SAW HIM HELP ME SO YOU MUST BE IN MY CLASSSS
[8:51]
okay!
are you the frat guy who always comes in hungover???
no judgement
From: koo ✨
[8:51 AM]
NO
To: koo ✨
[8:52 AM]
are you the guy who only ever wears knitwear???
From: koo ✨
[8:52 AM]
NO
To: koo ✨
[8:53 AM]
…are you the professor?
From: koo ✨
[8:53 AM]
NO!!!!!
oh my god lets just meet up or something before i explode
To: koo ✨
[8:53 AM]
WAIT
ARE YOU SERIOUS????
From: koo ✨
[8:54 AM]
…you’re that excited to meet me?
To: koo ✨
[8:54 AM]
OF COURSE I AM
OH MY GODDDD
WHEN?
From: koo ✨
[8:54 AM]
now?
i can meet you at the campus coffee shop in like five minutes?
To: koo ✨
[8:55 AM]
five minutes???
that’s not enough time koo i have to go home and pick out something pretty to wear !!
From: koo ✨
[8:55 AM]
it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always beautiful to me
To: koo ✨
[8:56 AM]
you
you think im
b-beautiful
: ’ ))))))))))
From: koo ✨
[8:57 AM]
…
haha see you there!!
To: koo ✨
[8:57 AM]
GET BACK HERE WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS-
You sat on an empty table, fiddling with the tea bag tag which hung over the side of your mug. You had bought Green Tea as an effort to calm yourself down so you weren’t too anxious to meet Koo, but it hadn’t worked because you were impatient and sipped it too soon so now you were sat there nursing a burnt tongue like an idiot.
You knew it was irrational to be self-conscious. He already knew who you were, and seemed to like you, it was just you that was in the dark. You went over the possible people Koo could be, mentally cycling through the boys in your photography class. It was an annoyingly large class, which meant he would be anyone from the guy who smelled like Funyuns to-
Fluffy-haired boy strolled into the coffee shop and you let out an involuntary sigh. He seemed to be cheerful, a smile exposing his bunny teeth and making his cheeks bunch up adorably, with like, five different sets of dimples poked into them. You had never agreed more with the saying that dimples were caused by an angel’s kiss.
Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at while I wait, you thought, just before all your thoughts suddenly tipped out of your head when you realised he was walking towards your table.
“Is this seat taken?” He grinned, before sliding into the seat across from you.
You whimpered, and his smile grew devastatingly wider.
“Hi,” He breathed, before his gaze flickered down to your mug of tea, clutched so tightly in your hands that you worried the ceramic might shatter. “You didn’t get hot chocolate? I thought you had a sweet tooth?”
“Uhm-” You choked, before forcing yourself to get a grip. How would Koo feel if he walked in here and saw you sitting with another guy? “I’m actually- I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”
If it was possible — and it certainly seemed to be — the boy’s grin broadened even more, his eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons.
“Is that so? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No!” You blurted, before flushing profusely. The boy across from you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the display. “I mean- uhm, I don’t know. Maybe? This is our- this is our first actual meeting.”
“Oh?” The boy tilted his head, “Really? How exciting.”
You hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on your slowly cooling beverage. You raised it to your mouth to take a hesitant sip and- nope, still too hot. You whined quietly, rubbing your sore tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and soothe it.
“Oh, sweets,” The boy murmured across from you, and you were too distracted to notice the nickname. He plucked the mug out of your hands and placed it on the other side of the table, as if he was trying to make sure it couldn’t hurt you anymore. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the campus infirmary?”
“Wha- no, it’s okay,” You mumbled, lisping slightly on your burnt tongue and blushing when he cooed over you, “It’s- I’m waiting here for someone, and- I mean, I don’t even know your name-”
“It’s Jungkook,” He interrupted cheekily, deliberately ignoring the rest of your statement, “Some people call me Kookie, and really special people call me… Koo.”
Oh. Oh.
Fuck.
“Really special people?” You asked, your voice small, and not because of the burn.
“Well, people…” Jungkook- Koo paraphrased, tilting his head slightly, “I guess it would be more accurate to say… one really special person.”
“Really?” You breathed, and Jungkook leaned over the table, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the same scent embedded in the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie.
“The most special person.” He murmured, the fervent emotion packed in each word speaking louder than any increase of volume could.
You had never been anyone’s most special person before, but, as you looked into Jungkook’s chocolate eyes, you started to believe you could almost taste it, sticky sweet on your lips. And when Jungkook eventually, finally coaxed your lips in a gentle kiss, you let him in, and found out that happiness tastes reassuringly honey-sweet.
#bts fanfiction#Yandere bts#soft yandere bts#yandere jungkook#soft yandere jungkook#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts imagines#bts x reader#bts scenarios#yandere kpop#bts jungkook x reader#bts jungkook#bts jungkook imagines#bts Jungkook fanfic#bts jeon jungkook
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Chapter 66: Tang Fan Realizes He Cannot Lose Sui Zhou
Context: Sui Zhou, Tang Fan and their men head into one of the tombs together after finding remnants of the missing villagers right outside the entrance of a tomb. One of the men’s lower body has already been eaten up, and they are sure that there is a sort of creature and monster in the tomb, and hence decide to visit and clear this case once and for all.
They are accompanied by the old village chief’s oldest son, and once they are there and get into trouble, Tang Fan and Sui Zhou finally find out who this son actually is - Li Man, Tang Fan’s previous landlord before he moved in with Sui Zhou, the man who plotted to kill his own wife and then let his son go to prison in his stead, and let him die there before fleeing with his new pregnant mistress. Turns out that Li Man is actually affiliated to the White Lotus Sect.
After his identity is exposed as they are all trapped in the tomb, Li Man takes Tang Fan hostage, but Sui Zhou to the rescue! As they try to get out alive while battling the creature physically, and also dealing with scheming mastermind Li Man and less-than-cooperative subordinates, Tang Fan and Sui Zhou really have their work cut out for them.
*Do read the previous highlight Ch. 60-61 to find out who the village chief and Tang Fan’s uncooperative mofo of a subordinate Yin Yuan Hua are, and also a refresh on the case XD Qian San Er is a young boy, thief-turned-ally that follows Tang Fan from this case onwards and later works for him
*No major Fanzhou ROMANTIC moments in this chapter, but they’re trying to save each other and trying to outwit the bad guy, and also the creature is this huge-ass crocodile that eats people lmao, and they’re trapped in the tomb ;-;
Sort of MAJOR FANZHOU MOMENT AT THE END of this chapter!!!
Introduction Post | Masterpost
—
Highlights under the cut
Li Man is just realising how extremely useful a hostage is, and before he gets a chance to put his hand on Tang Fan’s neck, a sharp pain comes from his exposed back. He cannot help but cry out in pain, and then the person he caught to play his human shield earlier is gone. The side of his arm has taken a heavy hit, and the pain he feels has him loosening the hold on his blade uncontrollably.
It is but a short moment, but the situation has already changed significantly.
Li Man is originally a businessman and his skills are nowhere better than Tang Fan’s. Otherwise, he would not have been unsure about how much force to use when he took up an axe earlier to slash at others. His two henchmen, however, are clearly more skilled than he is, as faced with the closing in of the Embroidered Uniform Guards, they managed to struggle a little before being forced to surrender.
“What are you guys doing here!” Li Man glares at the person before him in disbelief after his arms are restrained ruthlessly behind his back.
Fate is playing tricks on him. All that he put Tang Fan through earlier is now being applied on himself.
An Embroidered Uniform Guard walks over and then pushes the stone door open slowly. Under Li Man and his henchmen’s glares, Pang Qi walks in with a large gait from the outside, bringing with him Qian San Er and others. The stone door then closes shut heavily again.
The threat they felt from the approaching tomb beast earlier seems like just an illusion.
Sui Zhou personally unties Tang Fan, and asks, concerned, “You’re alright?”
“I’m good,” Tang Fan shakes his head, and then looks around his surroundings.
From the decor, the huge hall they are at is actually at the core of Marquis Gong’s tomb. the coffin in the center is where Marquis Gong’s corpse is located, and the floral patterns on top of the coffin confirm Tang Fan’s earlier guess, that this is indeed the tomb of a former Marquis of the Qin empire.
However, because this central hall’s space is larger, on the left and right there are accompanying side halls that emulate the place the tomb owner was staying in when he was alive. Li Man and the rest of them only lit up a single light. As a result, aside from this small circular area near the light, other parts of this hall are shrouded in darkness.
Stuck in such an environment, it is natural to look towards the light and avoid the darkness, so people consciously turn their eyes towards where there is light, and when these eyes look towards other places, they will be temporarily blinded.
Sui Zhou and his men made use of this to first hide within the accompanying side halls, holding their breaths so they could strike accurately when Li Man’s defences are down.
Although Li Man also realises this, he is still in disbelief, as he always seems to lose to his own plans and fall into Tang Fan’s hands repeatedly.
“This is impossible, my people definitely lured you away, how did you run here from that side?”
Sui Zhou does not pay him any mind, and looks first to Tang Fan instead.
Tang Fan jokes, “Because Sui-zhenfushi is both smart and legendary in combat, and common people are unable to see through him!”
Sui Zhou’s eyes reveal a tinge of mirth, but when he turns towards Li Man again, his expression has returned to its cold and firm state, “The set up laid in this tomb, we already knew most of it before we came down here…”
Before he can finish, Li Man shouts, “Impossible!”
There is naturally a reason behind him saying that. When royals are buried, to prevent tomb robbers, not only must there not be any details left behind for transfer, sometimes even the architects behind the tomb construction have to be killed as well. Or even like how Cao Cao did it, setting up 72 decoy tombs - this was all to confuse the people left and absolutely prevent robberies.
Although doing this may not be entirely effective, everyone has always done it this way in history, so being a little more careful and meticulous will not go wrong.
This tomb is located under the Yong Hou Tomb, and there aren’t many people who know this, not to mention anyone knowing how it’s been set up.
Facing Li Man’s ‘I am cultured so you better stop lying to me’ expression, Tang Fan patiently explains, “Before I became an official, I once wandered the world and came across the region of Shan Xi. There are plenty of tombs there, and it is said that the Zhou royal family’s tomb has long been emptied by local raiders, but the burial mounds and archaeological site are still intact. Under my observations, I realised that the structure of these sites are more similar than different.”
“Yong Hou Tomb only has two levels in the underground palace, this is clearly written by those who have come here before. Ancestor Song Ying was buried in a hurry, and so any secret passages were unable to be built. Although you are not the real Liu Da Niu, but to lure us down here, you put in quite a bit of effort.”
“Not everything you said is fake, at least half of it is real, and Qian San Er did not lie, so combining what the both of you said, then it is not difficult to conclude that when you said there was a third level in this tomb, this means that there has to be another royal member’s tomb.”
“So I took note of this, and looking through local records, I realised that this used to be the land of the Gong Empire, belonging to the Zhou emperor Wang Ji. The Zhou empire practiced gifting their land to accomplished officials, and a small empire like this, all infrastructure must have imitated that of the Zhou royal family’s, including their tombs.”
Li Man continues, “So you applied the set up you saw in the Zhou dynasty’s tombs in Shan Xi over here.”
Tang Fan nods in agreement, “Exactly, but this is equivalent only to trying to draw a tiger by looking at a cat - it is not possible for every tomb to look exactly the same, and even if we know the gist of the set up, there will definitely be differences in between. For example, the traps in this tomb, we couldn’t have known this first. But it is precisely at this moment that you did us a huge favour.”
Li Man’s voice is hoarse, “What favour?”
Tang Fan says, “After we came down, there were plenty of scattered treasures, but there were no bodies. If the creature swallowed the meat and bones together, this I can understand, but from what Qian San Er described, we know that when Li Kui and the rest came down here and fought with the creature, this was surely a nasty, tough fight. So the places that we passed by, it is impossible for them to be so clean. No matter how aggressive and fierce this creature is, one or two limbs or body parts would surely have been left behind. Since this is unnatural, something must be amiss. Someone must have deliberately cleaned this place up in hopes of luring us down here.”
“Very logical,” Li Man says, “And?”
“Since you deliberately lured us here, then you must first ensure your own safety. You couldn’t possibly have allowed yourself to fall prey to the traps, so Sui Zhou and I felt at ease, enough to bring the men down here.”
“I remember that when I was about to kill you, the creature shrieked,” Li Man says, his eyebrows furrowed.
Tang Fan makes a noise of assent, “Qian San Er.”
Hearing his name being called, Qian San Er walks out from the dark calmly, and then shoots Tang Fan a grin, deliberately sucking up to Tang Fan. Then, he brings his hand to the side of his mouth.
A chilling sound echoes, and this is exactly the sound of a ghost crying that they heard earlier!
Li Man and his two henchmen’s eyes go wide.
Qian San Er straightens, his chest protruding outwards and traces of smug delight on his face, “I don’t only know how to steal!”
One must know that his ventriloquism skills are top notch in the Huang He Gang, otherwise he wouldn’t have been brought over here by his shifu to keep watch. Although he was not of much help, but at critical moments, it’s not that he cannot be assigned tasks, and case in point, Li man and the rest were deceived.
The plan was actually very simple. Li Man planned to lure Sui Zhou and his men away and was prepared to first kill Tang Fan and Yin Huan Hua. Who knew that Sui Zhou and the rest of them were already prepared and tackled his scheme with one of their own? Through the White Lotus Sect disciple who wanted to lure them away, they instead managed to figure out all the traps here.
Plus the preparation that Tang Fan made prior to this, having understood the environment and infrastructure before coming down here, as long as they walked about, they would no longer be confused by the misleading traps.
At this point, Sui Zhou and the rest realised that the Tang Fan and Yin Yuan Hua (who were trailing) behind them have vanished. And as Tang Fan knows Sui Zhou, Sui Zhou knows Tang Fan equally well. He knew that Tang Fan would surely think of ways stall for time and await their rescue. The only problem was how they were actually going to meet - And so Sui Zhou asked Qian San Er to mimic the cries of the creatures, all to drive Li Man into the main hall.
And that’s how they have come to the situation before them.
***
Suddenly, Yin Yuan Hua picks up his foot and kicks at Li Man viciously. He demands, “What about the treasures? Where did you hide them all?”
Both of Li Man’s hands are tied up, but he does not get angry at being abruptly kicked to the ground. He only pants, his breaths harsh, “If I tell you, will you guys let me live?”
Yin Huan Hua is still holding a grudge against them for having tied him up earlier and laughs coldly, “All of you tried to rebel and create chaos in the world. It’s already the best case scenario to not have your whole family die to pay for your sins, but you still want to live? if you don’t come clean, just wait to die here!”
As if he heard the biggest joke in history, Li Man suddenly descends into a bout of laughter, and the intensifying pain warps his smile even more.
“What are you laughing at!” Yin Yuan Hua grows cold at his laugh, and almost kicks at him again, but Sui Zhou stops him.
Li Man is laughing uncontrollably, so much so that tears have emerged. He then turns a creepy smile onto Yin Yuan Hua, “I’m laughing at your stupidity! I said so much only to stall for time, so that I may live longer, and then your death sentences will arrive!”
As if in response to Li Man, the moment he finishes speaking, from outside the stone door, an eerie wail resounds from the distance.
Everyone’s expressions change slightly.
Li Man laughs, “I said before that the tomb beasts move when they smell blood and are exceptionally sensitive when it comes to the stench of blood. My blood is bringing them close, and so what if you know all of this? At the end, you still have to die here!”
Heavy thuds echo from outside the stone door, as if an external force is striking against it. In the beginning, the force used was to test the door, but as the door is firm, (the creature) increases its strength. The stone door and the whole hall along with it is struck with so much force that they are shaking slightly, scattering plenty of dust to the floor.
Li Man is still laughing, “This secret will forever be buried here, you will never make it out!”
The back of his head is hit heavily by Pang Qi, “You will also have to die here, what rubbish are you saying, think of something!”
Li Man sneers, “I am indebted to the almighty Sect, without it, there would be no wealthy and successful Li Man. My time to repay my debt has come, and to be able to drag all of you to die with me, I will not die in vain!”
While he is speaking, the stone door is again struck heavily (from the outside)! Originally, this door can only be opened with some clever handling, and for humans this is not a difficult thing, but for a ferocious beast, the stone door before its eyes is an obstacle. However, the tomb guarding beast outside clearly is intelligent, and after repeated strikes proved futile, it gradually stops its attacks and instead shifts to other various methods to try.
The people inside the stone room originally thought that even though they are temporarily unable to leave, the beast cannot enter either. As long as they patiently waited for time to pass, after it lost its patience it would leave naturally, but when they see the stone door being pushed open slowly from outside, they cannot help but be terrified.
A black claw that is as sharp as that of a bird’s, but is a few times larger than a normal bird’s, presses in from the gap made by the door. With the force the beast exhibited outside (earlier), if the claw caught onto one of them, it’s likely their heads would split on the spot.
Once they get to this thought, everyone shudders.
Sui Zhou yells, “Hurry go and hold the door!”
Even without him saying this, many people have already rushed forward and are using their bodies to completely jam the door.
However, the external force is too great, and even though everyone is expelling a majority, if not all of their strength, they only manage to push the door back by just a bit. Before any of them can heave a sigh of relief, the stone door is slammed against hard once again!
A lot of them were still stuck to the door, and are shocked immediately, their four limbs going numb and their strength leaving them.
Another strike from outside!
Once more!
And one more time!
Sui Zhou says grimly, “Prepare the hand cannons!”
With this reminder, a lot of them then remember that they did bring their hand cannons with them. Embroidered Uniform Guards with the hand cannons frantically stuff gunpowder inside, and nervously point the barrels towards the stone door area, waiting for this door to collapse…
And yet, whatever negative thoughts they have are realized, and before they are fully prepared, the door is already unable to withstand this huge force. It splits into two pieces and collapse towards the back. Some of them did not evade this in time and are trapped right there and then.
Along with the stone door being destroyed entirely, the heavy stench of blood blows inwards, and everyone almost throws up.
The only candle flame in the hall is extinguished.
***
Yin Yuan Hua leans against the wall as he shakes, and is exposed and unguarded as the creature’s claws sweep over. His face is flushed white, his eyes staring ahead, forgetting to even react to this.
At this time, it is Tang Fan who is right next to him, who reaches out with a hand and tugs him over. Yin Yuan Hua stumbles and barely dodges the claws, and the sharp tips of those claws swipe over the wall, leaving behind three deep claw marks.
If he was still standing there, then right this moment, there would be another corpse with a cut open belly.
Yin Yuan Hua shakily pants as he depends on the wall for support, not quite believing that he managed to escape from death’s clutches then.
“Go to the side halls!” Tang Fan shouts, totally different from his usual gentle, polite self.
He expended a lot of energy earlier to tug Yin Yuan Hua (out of harm’s way), and at this point, his pallor is not any better than the other man’s.
But the next moment, danger descends once again.
The beast seems to have realised that there are two more easy targets here, and it turns its head, its mouth opening wide and sharp white teeth close in.
From Tang Fan saving Yin Yuan Hua to the creature turning its head over, all these happened in merely a blink of an eye!
The beast is unable to bite at two people at the same time, so its very first target is Yin Yuan Hua. His face remains pale, but this time his reaction seems to be faster than the previous time.
There is no time to flee - the creature’s body is much larger than theirs, and so it has already blocked off all their paths for escape.
This time, Yin Yuan Hua finally reacts.
He chooses to tug Tang Fan over on one hand and hide behind him on the other, prepared to use Tang Fan as a human shield to slow down the beast’s progress. After that he will plan his retreat.
He did this in a flash, and no one would have expected him to do this!
Tang Fan is no longer able to hide or dodge in time! Seeing that his shoulder is about to be bitten off like what happened to an Embroidered Uniform Guard earlier, something flashes in Tang Fan’s eyes, and then the creature’s teeth bites onto a xiuchun blade instead!
It’s Sui Zhou!
At the last moment against all odds, Sui Zhou rushed over and with just the force of a single arm, he blocked the beast’s attack with the blade in his hand!
The edge of the blade causes the beast’s soft mouth to bleed, and it bites on the blade in a rage, then throws ruthlessly, sending Sui Zhou flying to the wall right that moment.
Sui Zhou falls heavily, and spits out a mouthful of blood.
“Guang Chuan!” Tang Fan rushes over to pick him up, his eyes going so wide in fury that they are about to split.
Sui Zhou’s face is as white as joss paper, his eyes shut tight. He is likely to have injured his internal organs, and doesn’t even have the strength to talk at that moment.
The warm body in his arms is pressed so close to him, but in that moment, Tang Fan has this sudden fear and uneasiness at the thought of losing him.
The earlier half of Tang Fan’s life - his parents died earlier and his older sister married out of the city. He thought he was alone, that he had no ties or worries, living freely without restrictions. He also thought that even if he was unable to continue being an official, at most he would just put up his hat and leave.
In this lifetime, he thought that perhaps there was nothing he could not let go.
But right this moment, Tang Fan then realises just how much Sui Zhou means to him in his heart.
So much that he cannot bear the reality of losing the other.
#tsomd#cheng hua's fourteenth year#成化十四年#suitang#fanzhou#fanzhou highlights#as always i'm sorry it takes me forever!!!#to update hahah#cheng hua shi si nian
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sorry for my absence but... i bring pirate!sam.... this is also posted on ao3, if you’d rather read there..... but yes this is gender neutral “farmer”.. not beta read bc ive been losing sleep over this... under a read more because it’s long as hell. and thank you to the discord for fueling me many late nights to write this!!
the teasing nature of the ocean, and those in tune with it:
word count: 7.8k
summary: after wishing to become one with the sea for as long as the mind had allowed it, the newest shipmate had taken longer than usual to become accustomed to the physical ailments of being at sea, soon learning that their mental state would become the worst affected. the only pirate that had given them any mind was sam, an immature yet charming pirate in the higher ranks. his closeness to them unfolds as his attempt for some type of distraction from his own loss of self at sea.
warnings: allusions to s//cide, drowning, and not beta read.
PART I, INTRODUCTION
It was only supposed to take a couple days to stop their seasickness, hearing from the few ship mates they had encountered in their bedridden, infant days onboard that the body would become acclimated in no time. Never underestimate the human body’s quickness to adapt! the captain cried out soon after allowing them their rest time before their expected labor. This was an amazing opportunity no one could pass up, no one like the newest recruit, who had dreamed of days at sea since childhood, and longed for the nights of open starscape and the wail of the wind at full speed.
Yet, even with this wonderful expectation, they lay bedridden in their hammock, deep below the wooden deck that creaked with each step. The ship would groan with each bob in the water, the sounds of horrible screeches that came from deep within the ship furthered their nausea. Even if they had a few moments of solace between sick spells, anything would be better than the quiet squeals of the wood beneath the water. Despite that notion, that repeated itself in their mind, the back of their head had allowed no movement. Their head would turn to vomit every so often, scrambling out of their bunk and to the wood pail beneath them. The only company to be had before nightfall was a woman with strange, blue hair, decorated with gold jewelry and piercings—and a bird that sat on her shoulder, he seemed to have an injured wing, but in their sickness it was hard to tell— who would bring a wet cloth to dab on their head every so often.
In their loneliness their acceptance aboard rang through their head alongside their migraine. Excited jitters fizzled through their body as jolts of pain replaced them, making it known to the newest mariner: the sea was not one to mess with. Yet, even in sickness, this was the opportunity they had dreamed of. Perfect scenarios replaced thoughts of pain, the wondrous look of joy wrinkling the captain’s face as he had met his newest recruit etching itself deep into their mind.
“Welcome aboard!” He grinned, shaking their hand with a firm grip. The stumbled, losing their footing with the slight movement of the ship and the strength of his hands, the sheer roughness against their palm scratching at the skin. “Gonna need to toughen up if you want to make it out here at sea!”
With a nervous laugh, they responded with his honorific, keeping their eyes off of the few gold teeth that lined his mouth. The crew had already begun their preparations to set sail. Shipmates ran to their posts as maps made their way to the captain’s quarters to begin navigation. Snapping themselves out of their dreamlike trance, they ran to their assigned post, readying for departure before their sickness had hit.
Hit, it had. The joly of the ships movement had thrown them off their feet, the nausea of first-day-anxieties and the never ending cycle of waves flooded from their stomach up straight to the back of their head. The sea had claimed another victim within an instant, but showed its mercy for the first and last time to them. They had finally regained consciousness where they lie now, eyes trained on the flimsy roped hammock above them, a leg draped over the side as they clutched their stomach between gasps. After one last sleep, they decided they would start their duties on the ship. No matter the cost of their health, their goal of becoming one with the sea would be achieved.
A full night of rocking, being woken every so often by the shipmates’ chatter in the dead of night, and the lingering pit in their stomach had made the attempt at rest useless. But, by sheer willpower, they had managed their feet to land securely on the floor by dawn. Their grip on their hammock lingered for a moment, bracing themselves for sickness. At long last, their connection to the physical land would be forgotten for a life at sea, with its eternity of waves and comforting wind.
PART II, THE TEASING NATURE OF THE OCEAN, AND THOSE IN TUNE WITH IT:
Finally able to enjoy the asylum of the sea, the comforting kiss of its mist and the heat of the sun’s rays, they had finally made their way out onto the boat, far from the confinement of the ship. After three sickening days aboard, they could finally muster to keep their head up. Throwing themselves against the rails of the ship carefully, they gazed over the side of the ship with a frown. Their reflection was not there, not like in a river or lake. A puff of air had escaped them, uselessly searching for any ounce of their own face. Chatter had ensued behind them, pulling them from their questioning looks to a faceless being and back to the people of the ship.
They were docked at some seaside town, mates running on and off the ramp of the ship as the town’s commotion sparked up. A few pirates they had recognized, some that stayed in their rest quarters, others that had walked past their bunk in frenzied states. Almost no one had introduced themselves, a kind face far in between indifferent ones. It wasn’t too big of a matter to them, just a bit odd from their days on the coast back home. But, this wouldn’t break them, or their pursuit of one's truest connection to the sea. Walking with haste to the side of the ship, they braced themselves against the wood rails, carefully tipping themselves to see the movement of water the best they could. It had seemed so inviting; the playful lap of water seeming almost childish in a strange way, beckoning them forward to indulge in its coolness.
The talking behind them had taken them out of their thoughts, passers by noting that there were only ten minutes more until departure. Their heart beat with nervous excitement, feeling that if everything in their life were to fall into place, now would be it. Helping with mundane tasks around the ship, traveling far across the horizon, and exploration of new lands untouched by others for decades sounded like heaven, the crash of waves against the ship and harbor echoing as a sort of applause for their accomplishment. It should have been the perfect sign that the wind was picking up, and that they were due to set sail.
The ship jolted against the waves, the wind whipping their hair from them and tearing at the skin. Without the painful headache pooling at the back of their skull, the ride of the waves would have made them feel nearly weightless. Their legs shook from the motion, a familiar feeling of unease settling in their stomach. Sea air had always calmed them as a kid, but the sudden jolts of the boat left a sharp pain of unease within them.
“Gotta get your sea legs sometime, dear!”
The teasing remark had come from above, unfamiliar kind eyes paired with a teasing smile from inside the crow’s nest. He grabbed at the rope blowing by the nest, sliding down and switching hands every so often in a futile attempt to avoid discomfort. The ship’s shaking hadn’t stopped, yet he had no issue. His feet planted firmly on the wood deck. His confidence radiated off of him, well accompanied by his bright smile.
Their legs had still felt as if they were going to give out, whether it be from the choppy movement or the bold quirk of his eyebrow. He had a confident air to him, mindless flipping a gold coin off of his thumb every couple seconds. “So you’re the newcomer the captain allowed onto the ship, huh? Guess I won’t say anything, if he thinks it’s the right thing to do.”
With little clue what the man had meant, and wanting to avoid any conflict with a man that had a sword tucked to his side, they had decided to ignore his last comment. Despite his words, his tone was happy and unbothered, while his expression was distant, but content. The commotion to their side had signaled that the anchors had been raised, and that they were due to set sail soon. He returned his attention to the newest shipmate in front of him, asking their name with visible interest.
Humming, he flipped his coin once more before putting it back into a bag tied to his belt. “Sam,” he introduced, “your fellow shipmate— one of the higher ranking ones, mind you.” He bowed with his words, clearly proud of his title. He readjusted the chains across his chest, flipping them inside and out before pulling his hand away. “Y’know I used to be just a cabin boy when I was younger, but my past captain told me I deserved better.”
“Oh,” they responded, “interested in becoming a captain of your own ship?”
“Not in a million years! He has no fun! He’s one of the better captains I’ve been with, but even then, I’d never do something so serious. I don’t want the fun sucked out of me. It’s so easy to lose every bit of yourself out here.”
“It couldn’t be that bad.”
He laughed, “Ya haven’t spent more than fifteen minutes on the main deck, dear, just wait it out. I hope you don’t end up like the others, it’d be a shame.”
For the second time in their short interaction, the newcomer was at a loss for words at his cryptic nature. At the sound of a battle cry-like sound, Sam had turned himself around, pulling on the ropes of the mast to raise the ship’s flag high atop the mast. Soon enough, their departure had started, signaling the truest start of their adventure. Talk had ensued behind them, catching the tail end of a conversation about the next two weeks at sea. Perhaps, with good luck, their sea legs would come with the waves and the moon’s cycle.
Mumbling to themselves, they returned to their post, eager to rid themselves of their headache. Their sea legs would come with time, they had hoped, but thinking that the best plan of action was to fulfill their duties, they had involved themselves in the art of a pirate’s life the best they could. A week of smooth sailing had passed, their body sore from its arduous work on deck. A few shipmates had become at the very least, acquaintances. Not many had opened up or given the newest addition the time of day— all but one pirate, who had seemed almost too elated by their presence.
There was a slight pressure at the top of their head, before the unwelcoming feeling of rope had begun against the body. The frayed cord had permeated through their clothes, sticking into the skin like thorns. Their head turned quickly, a muffled giggle giving away the culprit almost immediately. Sam stood, his knees bent and hands still gripping the edges of the fishnet, with a devilish grin decorating his face. Between the diamond shaped holes of the net, despite their vision somewhat covered, his rosy cheeks were still evident even from their distance.
His playful look persisted as he dropped the net dramatically, hopping down from his placement on the ship’s wooden cargo boxes. “Whoops, sorry, darling! Must’ve mistaken you for a mermaid. Thought I finally got my hands on one.”
With an exasperated huff, they grabbed the edge of the fishing net, pulling it back over their head and throwing it to their side. “Don’t you have anything else to do?”
Sam positioned himself near the stacks of cargo boxes, resting his chin lazily on his hand as he looked in all directions. The newest pirate mirrored his actions, met with nothing but blue, cloudless skies and a color matching ocean. With no land in sight, their eyes returned to Sam’s— interested and ready to respond, as always.
“Not really,” he replied slowly, looking around once again in an almost mocking manner. “Not much to do at sea, you should know that by now! I know it’s only been a little bit, but come on.”
After his reply, the ship shook, jolting itself after a clunking sound of metal echoed over the ocean. They had been thrown off their own footing once more, eliciting a loud laugh from Sam. His gaze was steady on the unsteady frame of his newest crewmate, still lazily perched against one of the many looted crates. He twirled his finger along the lining of metals up his ear, playing with the hanging chains as he allowed them to regain their composure before speaking again.
He nodded to them, then motioned lazily up to the open sky. “Just wait ‘til we hit a storm, darling. If you can’t stand on your own two feet now, just wait ‘til then,” he laughed, keeping an amused smirk stretched across his face. With a roll of their eyes they walked away, retreating back to the lower decks of the ship in pursuit of their blue-haired friend, and their friendly, injured parrot that gossiped with them.
PART III, THE STORM THAT FOLLOWED AFTER LANDING ON THE BEACH:
A quick side mission was at hand, a small island abandoned by its inhabitants and rumored to have treasure had made an attractive stop. The ship had anchored far from shore, splitting the ship’s crew into designated teams to make a quick, but successful mission before returning to sea for weeks. The captain had assigned them the simple task to forage for anything edible, afraid of running too low on rations in their extended time. They saluted him, thanking him for the opportunity before heading off.
The trip to the island had been painful, the soreness of their arms from days of pulling and heavy lifting had led the rowing to be searing up their biceps. In little time they had hit sandbars, jolting with the bottom of the dinghy as it collided with sporadic mounds of shells and sand. The leader of this mission, a young woman with purple hair tied up with a bow, cried out from their collisions, commanding that it was time to bring the boat up by hand. Readying themselves, the group tightened their belts and prepared to jump overboard.
“Ah, you do know how to swim, right?” Sam teased, shooting a boyish grin their way.
“Of course I know how to swim!” They cried back, jumping off the dinghy and into the water. The group had trudged through the knee deep water, cringing at the cold water filling their boots and wetting their clothes. Sam had laughed, pulling the boat up to the sand with him and a few fellow pirates, running up to meet the new pirate once they had secured it to the shore.
“You’d be surprised,” he added, moving his head to look down at their face. They shook their head in response, focused on the group of trees and brush settled on the island. The rest of the group had dispersed along the beach with maps in hand, talking amongst themselves before splitting up. It had gone unspoken that Sam had ended up paired with them, slightly irritating, but nothing the newest recruit couldn’t handle.
His smirk had made one of their eyes twitch, the cocky look in his eye making them bite back an annoyed sigh as he unsheathed his sword. He slashed away at the brush with a few grunts, standing back to admire his skill. His shipmate rolled their eyes at his proud smile, his demeanor annoying, but still upsettingly charming. The rest of the crew had branched off to find the rumored island treasure, while they were stuck foraging for anything edible. Their next stop, some foreign land across the Gem Sea, could take weeks or months, leaving the captain desperate to stock up.
Sam opened his mouth yet again, the newest pirate immediately tuning him out to focus their eyes on the ground. Few sights of berries, herbs, and dandelions covered in rough patches. Just as they had raised their head to tell their partner they gasped, craning their neck to follow Sam’s lithe body. He had, miraculously, climbed himself up a tree in no time and with little sound, already pawing at the hanging fruits. His reckless nature, the instability of his legs wrapped around the trunk and his shifting imbalance as he reached for fruits made them cry out in fear.
He looked down at them, calm as can be before shooting them a teasing wink. “Can’t be that worried about me, can you, dear?”
“Well,” they stuttered, eyes still glued to the shakiness of the tree from his weight. “It’d be a shame if you splattered on the ground.”
Shaking his head, he shimmied himself up further, the top of the trunk beginning to bend with his weight as he tossed down a few fruits to his partner. “Nah, I’m not afraid of this. There’s solid ground to land on, what more could ya ask for?”
They scrunched their eyebrows, looking up to him as if there were a more obvious choice. “Water?” They questioned, watching him shake his head once again with both hands grasped onto the rough bark of the tree.
Plucking the fruit from the top of the tree, Sam turned himself back down to throw it at his partner, watching them struggle to keep all of them in their hands. “No, no, no! I’d rather break my back than lose everything. There’s one thing I am afraid of, and it’s the ocean.”
“That makes no sense, Sam—” They interrupted themself, watching as he stood to full attention the best he could, his eyes obviously caught on something from his tree top view. Fearing it was another group of pirates, a dangerous animal, or anything else that could prove almost immediate death, they gripped the fruits closer to the chest, already repositioning them in preparation to flee. They couldn’t hear the stumped hum from Sam’s lips over the sound of the rustling leaves, but watched as he flawlessly dismounted from the tree tops with a grunt, his head still turned west.
Motioning them to follow behind him, Sam led the way deeper into the jungle, slashing away with his sword to clear the way for himself and his partner. He was mumbling on his way, a concentrated decoration of face covering his usual boyish and playful expressions. Without further words, the newcomer followed Sam’s trail, trusting his judgement and following at his heels. He did a wonderful job of clearing their walkway, looking back every few moments to make sure there were no branches in his partner’s face and warning of any roots or dips in the ground. In only a couple minutes the two had reached a clearing of sand, an odd formation of rocks and foreign symbols slashed into the surrounding trees.
“Holy shit!” He cried, dropping his sword and dropping to his knees around the clearing, immediately digging through the sand. “There has to be something in here.”
“But,” the newest pirate interjected, still messily holding their foraged goods in their arms, “the map said it would be on the east side of the island.” Carefully shifting their fruit, they pulled their compass out of their pocket just far enough to see the point of the arrow. “We’re in the west.”
He shrugged, an excited look overcoming his face. “Maps aren’t always right! We would’ve never found this if I wasn’t up in the trees, the rest of the party is still south!” He sounded giddy, but the newest issue of lugging around a treasure chest, just the two of them, and also carrying their forages at the same time gave a slight pang of aggravation to the newest pirate. Sam had instructed them to put the fruit down and help him, causing them to groan and drop to his opposite. They had dug with him, using their weapons in between bruising their hands.
He sighed as they dug. “Man, wish there was a way to tell the rest of the group the treasure’s here so we could get some help.”
“I can go run back and try to find them if you’d like,” they offered, already feeling their hands sore.
“Hell no! You’re gonna get lost, and I’m not leavin’ ya here either. Something’s gonna come and hurt ya, I gotta be here to protect ya.” He struggled out, focusing all of his strength onto the hands full of sand and dirt he pulled from the earth. They groaned inwardly, silently continuing at half his force, but still doing a demanding worth otherwise. There was little indication that much time had passed, the sun still stood high above them and shone with unbearable heat, adding the stickiness of humidity to the ocean breeze.
After a couple feet of sand thrown to the sides of the jungle, daylight had finally shone a glimmer of gold lining, attached to some wood corners submerged beneath the earth. Both had cried out in happiness, knowing that their efforts had not been for naught, and giving new drive to dig out the buried treasure. Once it had been taken out of the dirt, after extraneous work and gasps for strangled air, they both stood in the hole, suspending their bodies against the edge of the sand for support. They turned to each other, proud smiles upon their faces before Sam turned and broke the lock of the chest.
They let out a small gasp at his action, leading him to turn back and give them a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he huffed, “throw the lock back in this hole, the captain won’t know it was ever locked.” Their chest still rose and fell in time with his, panting from the heat and physical work as he cracked open the chest. Both of their eyes widened at the assortments of beautiful jewels and gold coins, jewelry and rolled papers all assorted messily with traces of sand caked on them. One piece had got their eye, unknowingly bringing their shaking hand up to it before holding it between their fingers.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” they whispered in awe. Sam poked his head closer to them, eyeing up the pendant with them with a grin. The amulet held some weight to it, its bold cerulean color would knowingly attract attention from anyone who would find themselves near it. The turret shell was attached to a thin, gold chain, hanging at the bottom at gravity’s mercy. It was an odd pendant, but the beautiful blue of the shell mirrored that of the ocean in sunlight. Sam looked at the newcomer, without them knowing, grinning at their awed expression. “It’s so special,” they commented, “I mean, look at the rest of this jewelry, clearly belonging to royals or aristocrats… and it all looks the same. This is so different from the rest, looks like it came from the ocean itself.”
The wonderful aquamarine coloring mirrored the water of the island’s shore, just before hitting deep water. They had snapped themselves out of their fantasy, setting it back into the chest and closing it. “Let’s get this back to the group,” they said, placing their hands flat on their thighs before standing up. Sam followed, already beginning to drag the chest towards the direction they came. Turning their back from Sam for just a moment, they wrapped their foraged fruits and berries in a fishing net, turning back around to see Sam with a suspiciously innocent smile.
Deciding not to comment on what was likely another childish jest, they set the bag atop the chest and heaved the chest back to the beach. The treetops challenged their eyesight of the sky, but the island’s shift from bright to a darkening gray had given them all the information they needed. Sam walked backwards, as he said a gentleman like himself should, crying out in glee once they had finally hit where their dinghy was anchored, the group already together upon their arrival. They had interrupted their cries of lament while waiting for the two with an impending storm, but quickly shut themselves up to run over upon seeing the chest lugged between the two.
Upon seeing the open sky, and the choppy waters that they would soon be met with, the newest pirate’s stomach dropped. Within no time that fear was pushed over by others, too infatuated with the treasure they had nearly left. It was wildly easier to lug the chest with four others helping. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of the far, black skies and the ocean’s matching color, the white of breaking waves proving as the only contrast that could be possible.
The sands of time were nearing their end to return to the ship, the waves becoming rough with wind against the dinghy. It was already at the ocean’s mercy, moving with the waves as spouts of water overflowed onto the boat. Each member of the captain’s crew assigned to this mission struggled past the crash of waves to the boat, slinking in legs heavy with the weight of water. The current dragged at their clothes as if it had claws of its own, begging for company beneath the heaving waves. Their experience dealing with the ocean in their life had only proved to help little, feeling their feet yanked by watery hands as they toppled over into the boat.
Even though they had clambered onto the boat in time, their heartbeat had still rung in the center of their head. Sam had noticed, along with the rest of the crew. A friendly smile crossed his face as he rubbed their back, reassuring them that the ocean’s storms will bring calmness to both the mind and body. They scrunched their nose at his words in disgust. How each storm would become a test of survival was sickening, thinking that the inhumanness of its strength would only prove it’s danger to its inhabitants. Each war waged against would be futile. Yet, it had spared them once again.
The crew began rowing back, the newcomer pulling their own weight through the incessant bullets of pain down their arm, and the soreness of the back of their knees. They had felt a hole in their chest from their anxieties, working nearly the strength of two in desperation to return to the ship. Land was no longer an option, and they knew that all but one pirate would have no issue with abandoning them on the island. It was their hope, more than a fact, but the resolution had saddened them nonetheless. Though they had worked together in the moment, approaching the side of the ship to board once again, there was no true personable connection on the ship. The only connections the pirates had was between them and the sea, with little room for others in between.
Dark clouds dissipated into the air within hours, teasing the ship with danger before laughing in its face with smooth seas. The soft splashes of water against the hull of the ship sounded like gentle coos, as the wind blew giggles by their ears as it took the hair from their faces. The captain had stayed on high alert still, expressing his distrust of the sea with a firm click of his jaw. His rosy cheeks stayed the same, despite the hard expression of his furrowed brow in his standoff with the sea. He hobbled back to his quarters, cabin boys disappearing below deck as the captain’s crew followed his heels. Few had been left in the open air, cleaning or reorganizing looted crates from seaside towns.
“Oh, darling!” A voice had sung out, tapping the newest recruit on the shoulder before appearing on the opposite side of them. Sam had stepped in front of them, his back to the ship and his companion trapped just before the bowsprit’s beginning. They couldn’t dissect his expression, some odd combination of the slyness of a fox with the curiosity of a cat. “Or should I call you treasure?”
They rolled their eyes at his newest pet name, still asking him to call them by their given name with an exacerbated sigh. He mirrored the action of their eyes, joking about their mission removed from others and the time they spent foraging before coming across the wanted treasure chest. He had stepped closer to them, leading them to take a step back, their foot slipping off the edge of the bowsprit in anxious nature. Why Sam had cornered them to near death was beyond them, but no fellow pirate seemed to mind any bit of this unnerving interaction.
He cracked a smirk. “Got you this.”
They reached out their hand to his, letting him open and release the small item into their open palm. The small weight of a seashell had little pressure to their palm, but had their head raised with a questioning look in no time. His interested expression stayed, almost as if he were playing a joke. After asking why, he shrugged and mumbled, clearly amused by their confusion and, in turn, their own lack of amusement. Their expression had stayed, only faltering when Sam had turned himself around at the beckoning of another mate, where they quickly, but safely, shoved the seashell deep into their pocket to ensure it stayed. He turned back around with a distant smile. He brought his face close to the mariner’s, heat erupting over their cheeks and nose at his quick action.
“And I also grabbed something else for you!” He whispered, shuffling around his pockets before digging into the small cloth bag tied to his waist. Quietly crying out once he had felt it, he pulled his hand from his pouch, still concealing his gift. Expecting another seashell, or perhaps an already fired bullet at this point, his shipmate opened their hand once more.
This weight had been more than before. The texture had also been peculiar, but the slow movement of their head had proved to be more of the mind than the body upon seeing his gift. In their hand sat the gold and aquamarine pendant from the treasure chest, it’s cone shape fitting perfectly in between the lines of their hand. A quiet gasp had escaped on instinct just before clutching it to their chest and looking around nervously.
“Sam! You can’t steal from the chests yourself! The captain gets every bit of it!”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been doin’ this longer than you— and you said you liked it. Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed it but us. It won’t be an issue, just keep it hidden,” he paused, throwing a look over his shoulder before returning back and winking, “It’ll be our secret, darling.”
Releasing their death-like grip on the pendant, they pulled their hand back to hold it between them and Sam’s chests, both admiring the beautiful blue shell of the pendant and the strange glow attached to it. Sam’s hushed giggles filled their senses, mingling with the intoxicating smell of sea air. A smile had crept onto the shipmate’s face at the beautiful piece of jewelry that was now in their possession, from a pirate with a heart the size of the ocean.
PART IV, A CONVERSATION UNDER SUNSET AND WITH THE CYCLE OF WAVES:
“You never seem to be anywhere else.”
Perhaps, it wasn’t the best greeting, but it was better than nothing. They kept their head held high as they spoke to him. Sunset had arrived the same time as always, akin to the never changing scape of water. The soft lull of the ship felt like a rocking crib fit for an infant, comforting for the mind, but hell on the body. That, paired with a fair breeze, had made the journey above the lower workings of the ship more bearable.
Sam shrugged, turning his attention back to the infinity of blue beneath the ship. “Can’t keep myself away from it.” A smile, genuine and kind, crossed his face, eyes flitting back and forth between his companion and the ocean. “It’s the ancient art of knowing the ocean as if it were yourself.”
Their eyebrows furrowed in thought, bating themselves with a breath. “How do you do it?”
“Good question— wish I could answer it for ya, dear. That might be a question more fit for the captain than me.”
With no verbal response from them, Sam returned his eyes back to the ocean, traveling the horizon in search of nothing. His attention directed elsewhere had allowed them to get a good look at his face, the scar over his left eye, and the bits of salt collected at the roots of his windswept hair. He must have caught them staring, a quick flicker of his eyes met theirs before he erupted into laughter, turning himself to them with the usual hint of mischief in them. The newcomer moved their eyes from his, feigning an aloof look that failed miserably in his face.
“How did you get that scar?”
He gave a short laugh, tilting his head to nearly touch their shoulder before popping back up. “I’m not the smartest,” he shrugged, resting his cheek on his palm and craning his neck to look at his newest interest at sea. Silence had ensued, leading him to point towards a real answer, rather than his usual avoidant dance around sore subjects. “Fishhook. I was a bit too close to my father when he was fishing. He was a soldier so I didn’t see him often, but anytime he was home he’d take me and my brother to the beach and fish.”
His face lit up for a moment. He straightened his back, moving his hands up to his chest where he pulled his already loose shirt further open exposing his chest and abdomen. Finding themselves flustered, the shipmate turned their head quickly, in both an attempt to hide themselves and to give Sam an ounce of respect. His laugh rang through their ears, syncing for just a moment with their quickened heartbeat.
“You can look, you can look,” he reassured, beginning once they had turned to his bare chest and abdomen, gasping at the scar gashed across him. It was akin to someone messily attempting to gut a fish, the scar still slightly raised over the skin, giving them a good idea of how long he had been cursed with it. “Got this in a fight in a saloon in some valley! Lots of drinkers there, might've gotten a bit too childish with one of them.”
Despite the scars he had shown them, his face was still happy. He hummed to himself, clearly forcing a more pleasant conversation— or mood, for that matter— upon them. Each of his hums was melodic, a clear indication that he had some type of musical talent gifted to him. Yet, once again, his gaze had returned to the infinity on all sides of them, moving himself with the waves. They listened to him for a few more minutes. Their curiosity was gnawing at them, eating away at their skin with the gusts of wind.
“A musician as well?”
Sam laughed, lulling his head around before shrugging with a smug grin. “I would say so, but that might be up to opinion. But, of course, I love music. It’s one of the greatest gifts! The ocean makes its own music just like I do.” The pirate’s silence to his response had allowed him some thought time, mumbling an old shanty to himself in their comforting stillness. Rhythmic like the waves, Sam continued, tapping his fingers on the wooden side of the ship with his quiet song, shutting his eyes with deep breaths.
They pursed their lips in thought, turning to him in a moment of silence. “Never heard that one before. Though, I’ve only been at sea for a little bit, so maybe I’m not the one to talk about it.”
He shook his head. “Nah, ‘s alright— learned it on one of my old captain’s ships.”
They nodded, resting their heavy head into their hands, crouching to lean their elbows against the railing of the ship with a deep sigh. Sam noticed, opening one eye to peek at their hidden expression. His head cocked to the side as his hand slid down the rope. “What draws you out here? You’re too headstrong, and I’m afraid it’s going to get you killed.”
Their hand slammed against a wooden crate, garnering attention from the few pirates that lingered beside them. “I want— I want to become one with the sea. I’ve always wanted to travel, and the ocean is the best way for it. I’ve always wanted to see the stars, to be far from home, and to see new things. I want to know the ocean—”
“You don’t,” he interrupted, his expression blank. It was the closest to a serious expression they had seen out of him, but despite this obvious warning, they continued on.
They shook their head. “I do! You don’t understand, Sam. You always talk like you know everything, you’ve latched onto me to do nothing but aggravate me.”
Sam stayed silent, watching the slight shake of their body and the way they consistently had to reposition their feet in tune with the rocking of the ship. Despite his happy tune, the mood had remained somber. He hadn’t spoken again, clearly understanding his mate’s feelings and having, at least, the maturity to know not to continue the conversation in teasing. It nearly drove them deeper into anger, finally realizing that Sam did, in fact, have the capacity to know the sea as one would know family they so desperately chased after. They were left miserable at sea, far from the expectations of the heavens among the waves.
PART V, THE SEA WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME:
Stuck two months at sea, the newcomer had sat out under the stars, admiring the tempting call of the murky water beneath them. What was once dreamt of had now become dread; eating away at their psyche. The ocean had never offered their reflection, only a distorted pit of nothing in return. In fact, they hadn’t seen their reflection since on land, safe in the warmth of a home and in the comfort of people. People that were smiling and warm, unlike those on the ship, who had each lost their humanity and souls to the crashing of waves and the unknown of the masses. At the very least, the rocking of the ship on safe seas had begun to lull them to sleep each night, the only action of love the ocean would give.
A friendly voice had rang out from behind them. “Mm, still not used to being at sea?”
“No,” they answered, keeping their gaze level with the horizon. Ocean wind had whipped past them, taking their hair from their face and pulling the ropes and sails of the ship with each gust.
“Just something you gotta live with,” he shrugged, walking up beside them and placing his hands along the wood railing. “It’s not too bad once ya get used to it, promise.”
His smile had tried its best to reassure, but left them with nothing but dread. Their eyes had lost the horizon, meeting just below the two, where the water met the side of the ship. The rough movement had made their stomach sink to their feet. Nothing was certain out at sea; nothing sacred, and nothing safe. Sam sighed, matching their gaze at the black water beneath them.
“You’ll get used to it,” he repeated.
They finally raised their gaze up to him. “How long have you been at sea?”
He shrugged, pushing himself from the rail and turning to rest his back against it. “Maybe four years or so? I don’t really know. There’s not much that goes on most of the time, so I’ve just sorta tuned everything out.”
“How can you possibly live like this?” Shaking their head, they returned their gaze back to the sea, and the hypnotic movement of black waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Each movement of the waves splattered against the side of the ship, dissipating and falling back into the water which it had come from. The wind whipped the waves against the side of the ship, a loud smack each time it collided unnaturally with the old wood.
The ship wasn’t natural, was the conclusion they had come to. The wood of it came from far away lands, unimaginable to them, but had not come from the sea. People weren’t supposed to be at sea. Like the trees that had been sacrificed for the ship, everything at odds with the great ocean was not meant to be there. The few times they had seen fish in the sunlight water, or a pod of dolphins that rode by their side in the morning, it had become clear: they were the only ones who belonged.
Sam had noticed their dead stare into the water, knowing what epiphany was unfolding in their psyche. With a sigh he threw his head back, looking up at the moon and surrounding stars. “Don’t think too hard about it,” he sighed again, bringing his head back down to look at their worried expression. He’d seen it with his fellow shipmates, and he had seen it in himself. “It’s going to kill you if you don’t learn to live with it.”
“I refuse. How could anyone enjoy this? We sit and look at nothing for days, weeks, on end. Then, we finally get to our destination, then we’re back on the water for another unknown amount of time?”
He nodded slowly. Before speaking, he walked over to the bottom of the mast, twirling the rope between his fingers. “This isn’t for everyone. Just hop off the ship next time we land on a beach, start a new life, do whatever.”
His words had stung them, mentally cursing themselves for thinking that he had some ounce of care for them. Perhaps it was how everyone was able to live at sea, cut all connections and ties to those that are not the ocean. How childish of them to think otherwise, and that Sam would have been any different. He could not fare against the ocean, certainly no stronger than them in a power of wits or will. They would have to stoop down to his level, full acceptance of death at any moment and that there is no true control when it comes to the great ocean.
It would only be a matter of time before they found themselves overboard, gasping for breath in their last moments once the sea decides their time abroad is over. “But there is no true safety!” They cried, turning themselves back around to see Sam’s confused expression. “Even if, even if, even if I decided to leave— which, despite your words, I don’t believe you would enjoy— I will never be safe from the sea! An earthquake that would trigger a tsunami, a hurricane, anything! I would never be able to escape it’s hauntings.”
“Of course I wouldn’t enjoy you leaving the ship. It’s sad to see anyone go,” he shrugged, clearly ignoring their last musings, “you were the only person on board that hadn’t lost their soul yet, of course it was fun to mess around with you.”
Their mouth was left open at his words and flippant attitude. “You’re speaking in the past tense,” they spoke, tone almost matching that of a warning.
He shrugged again, lulling his head from it’s transfixed gaze over the night ocean to them. “Isn’t it obvious yet?”
“I refuse,” they repeated.
Their attitude was clearly a front of denial, knowing deep down they have already become the worst of what they had once been. The ocean had thrown them to their extremes— the true mirror of the ocean’s reflection. Sam sat, hand lazily tapping a rhythm on his thigh as he watched the newcomer unfold before him, as he had watched plenty of times before. He sighed, knowing the outcome of this would be to render themself soulless, and lose the light behind their eyes, or to simply jump overboard and let the ocean have it’s way. A win-win for the sea, as Sam knew, and the newcomer had learned, the ocean never loses a game.
That’s what it is, the newcomer thought, nothing but a game of life and death for its own enjoyment. Each member of the ship, each pirate, or mariner, or fisher, that decided to take their chance from gambling their own life would inevitably find themselves face to face with nothing of themselves. With one last hit to the crate, clattering the treasures inside of it, they raised their head again and turned to Sam fervently, grasping at his arms in desperation.
“I never thought I would lose my soul, Sam!” They cried out, finally allowing themselves to cry. His face softened, shrugging their grip off of one of his arms and pulling them close to his chest. “There’s nothing out here to look forward to,” they choked out, allowing their hands to grip at the woven fabric of his shirt. He stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking of different things to say to them; something that had never worked with the others that he held and consoled over the same thing.
He sighed again, struggling to speak. “You just have to accept it.”
They sniffed, pushing themselves from his chest to look up at him. “How are you not like this? Why is it me? I’ve dreamt of this since I’ve been able to dream, and now that I’m hearing, I’ve just become a shell of myself. How are you still alive?”
Thinking of his answer, he looked over the sea as if for any hint of what to say. No discernible answer, but he had admired how different the sea can look within a moment’s difference. “Couldn’t tell ya. I go with the flow of the water, but— as long as you stay on ship, I will always make sure you’re safe.”
The call to the bottom of the ocean was tempting. Sam’s hand had moved from their back to cup the back of their head against his chest. Even if they had decided to wait it out towards morning, Sam would always have to live in fear that at a moment’s notice, the tide would take them from the ship and pull them under in the ocean’s horrifying mixture of mercy and murder. This sort of connection was exactly what he had always spoken against, knowing that once the ocean is aware of something precious, it will be ripped from its safety and holiness. Against his better judgement, he kept them in his hold, resting his cheek against the crown of their head as he looked out over the dismal water, knowing from experience what was bound to happen to his dearest pirate.
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𝔾𝕀𝕍𝔼 𝕀ℕ
❖ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ
❖ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ ❖ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ
Paring: Im Changkyun x Female Reader
Word Count: +3K
Synopsis: When you were a cub, your pack was hunted. Luckily you survived. Years later, you made a new pack, one that is different than most. Your pack was living normally as you all could. However, when the rare full moon came about, your pack is put in danger. A pack of seven comes to your aid, claiming to protect you. Within that pack, a certain male intrigues you. You feel something you’ve never felt before. You’re smitten but are quickly drawn back to reality. You remember that your time is running out, as well as your self-control. Your inner wolf has had enough and decides to make you choose; either you give in on the night of the rare moon or die.
~Admin Angie (๑>◡<๑)
★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★
You look at the pack in front of you. Seven werewolves stood there, baring their teeth. Four of them were different shades of brown, two of them have gray and brown fur, and the last one has black fur.
You assess the situation. Even with Jooheon here, your pack would still be outnumbered. You cautiously walk closer to Jooheon, even despite the protest growls coming from your pack. The pack in front of you watches your every step. You show no expression, maintaining a nonchalant persona. You couldn’t afford to show how nervous you felt.
Jooheon feels your presence and leans down to whisper in your ear. “That is the iKon pack.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
You evaluate the wolves in front of you. The way their features are and the way their fur coats look informed you that they were all male. They were all around the same size, except for the one with the black fur. He was larger than the rest and was in the center of the pack. You made eye contact with him and knew that he was the alpha. He snarled at you, saliva dripping down his mouth. He barks and takes a step forward.
Chachi growls as she moves to be beside you, baring her teeth. “No,” you tell her, your eyes never leaving the alpha in front of you. “You know our rules.” You remind her, she huffs at your words. She begins to paw at the ground, ready to pounce. Your pack had rules when it came to fighting. 1. We do not initiate the fighting. 2. If the opponent strikes first or attempts to then, all paws on deck. 3. Never lose control. 4. Always be aware of where your pack members are.
“You can’t fight yet, you’re not fully healed,” you whisper to Jooheon. You knew that if he were to fight again, he’d end up with something worse than a bite. You then heard more growls come from behind you. Hazel and Phoebe were transformed and walked over to Jooheon’s left.
“Well, the five of you in werewolf form is not enough to take them,” Jooheon enunciated to you. You bit the inside of your cheeks at his statement. It was times like these in which you felt utterly useless. You hated yourself for not being able to help your members to your fullest potential.
“Four,” you mumble. Jooheon gives you a side glance, wondering what you were talking about.
Before he could ask, the iKon pack moved forward and then began to run towards you. You said nothing, while your pack got impatient. You waited for the exact moment until they were right where you wanted them to be. “NOW!” you yell.
Your pack runs forward with great speed. The iKon pack might have had a running head start, but your women were resilient. They were like a bow and arrow, quiet, precise, and deadly. The more tension that was built, the farther and stronger the attack.
You took a defensive stance as you saw the alpha come towards you. You remembered that Jooheon was next to you, if the alpha were to attack, he might be caught in the crossfire. Without any second guesses, you bolted to the right, running far away from Jooheon. Just like you thought, the alpha was going after you. Even running in your human form, you were almost as fast as a werewolf.
You took a glance behind you to view the state of your pack. Everyone was fighting someone. Your heart ached to know the potential injuries they could endure, especially when they were outnumbered. You knew that Chachi could take on at least two wolves at a time, but three would be pushing it. Jia and Phoebe each held against one wolf each. What worried you the most was the fact that Hazel was going against two wolves. She’s a newbie to the werewolf world, having her real nature hidden from her for sixteen years. She doesn’t have any experience in fighting, let alone against a werewolf.
You attempt to run back and help Hazel, but the alpha that’s chasing you blocks your way. A growl rumbles from your chest at his action. You turn to look behind one more time and see that Jooheon shifted and was helping Hazel with one of the wolves. You silently thank him and run into the forest. You knew this forest as if it were the back of your hand. This forest is like a playground for you. If you could lead the alpha further away from the groups, it would be an advantage for your pack. Luckily enough, he was keen on going after you and followed you deeper into the forest.
Twigs snapped, leaves were crunched as you ran to your destination. You have a plan, it might not be the best, however, it is worth a try. It would at least make his pack worry enough to come and aid him, in return leaving your pack alone. There was a distance of, what you could guess, seventy feet between you and him. That is enough distance for your plan to work.
You stared straight ahead until you saw what you were looking for. The rope line, hanging from the tree. You look behind and see that he is now fifty feet from you and getting closer. You reach out to grab the rope and wrap it around your wrist. You give it a rough tug and it activates the pulley system. You propel upwards into the trees, your body no longer on the ground. You effortlessly land on a thick tree branch and look down. The alpha is right where you were, snarling and looking for you.
You quietly and gracefully walk from tree branch to tree branch, ending up in a different tree. You reach into your pocket and pull out two rocks you picked up while running. You threw a rock to the area in which you had just been, alerting the alpha below and looking in the direction in which the sound came. You walk again to a different tree, having done this multiple times because of training. You hold onto the last rock, you immediately decide to take off your flannel and wrap it around the rock. You then throw it in the previous area you were at and at the same time move to a different tree.
With your shirt wrapped around the rock, it would give off your scent, thus making the alpha move towards the object. Like you predicted, he did, this made your plan go back on track. You observed how he sniffed the clothing and began to unwrap it. This was your chance, now or never. You knew that this part was beyond crazy, life-endangering. But damn not only did you need to do this, but you also had adrenaline coursing through every nerve.
You observe the distance between you and the ground and conclude to yourself that you’ve gone higher than this before. You take in a deep breath and fall. It was only a couple of seconds but you had calculated your trajectory and hit your target within that time.
You land straight on the alpha’s back, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. His feet give right under him from the impact. He lets out a loud howl that could be heard beyond the forest. He rolls around the ground, trying to get you off, but your grip on him is like iron. Despite the numerous times, he squeezed the air out of your lungs when rolling on his back, you were relentless, never letting go. Once he got onto his legs, you readjust the placement of your arms and had him in a chokehold.
You had once done this to a human and a bear, at different times in your life, so you thought this could work on a werewolf. When you began to apply pressure to his carotid arteries, he immediately understood what you were doing and tried to whip you off of him. You knew that you shouldn’t have, but you found this situation amusing. You even let out a small chuckle. The fact that a male alpha was beginning to feel threatened by you, in your human form, was exhilarating. Most werewolves believed to be the strongest in their wolf forms, however, you always believed in brains over brawn.
In the distance you heard howls, but not from your pack. The alpha in your arms howls back, it was his. Your plan had worked and now it was time to conclude. Your grip tightened and he slowly began to stagger. Before he lost consciousness, in an attempt to have the last strike, he threw himself back. Slamming you against a wall of rock. Your head ricochets against the stone, making you lose your vision, the air in your lungs escapes you, leaving you breathless. You land on the ground with a thud. Although you couldn’t breathe and the pain was shooting through your back, you rolled away from the unconscious werewolf, creating distance.
The impact was stronger than you thought as your eyesight faded in and out. Catching glimpses of the iKon pack drawing closer and closer to you. At one point you felt a hot breath and a snarl in front of your face. You blink and see a brown wolf baring its teeth to you. You close your eyes and open them slowly. You see that he’s gone and you’re left confused. You then see a gray and brown wolf leap over you and attack the others. You blink again and see more wolves fighting off the iKon pack. You don’t count how many there are because of the immense headache that hits you.
You try to stay awake, however, each time you blink, your eyes take longer to open than the last. You don’t know how long you lay there, staring at the gray sky. You observe how the tree branches sway back and forth because of the wind. You find it lulling, as sleep calls to you demanding to close your eyes.
Your view of the tree branches is cut off by a man. A man with short dark hair, warm-colored skin, brown eyes, and heart-shaped lips. You wouldn’t dare say it aloud but, in your case, he’s a sight for sore eyes. He ways his hand across your face, your eyes slowly follow but not at his rate. He kneels next to you.
“Hi, I’m gonna need for you to stay awake for as long as you can. You received a blow to your head, strong enough to cause a concussion. We’ll get you to your pack as soon as possible.” He assures you. He goes to pick you up but you stop him.
“Who are you?” you utter out, trying to maintain eye contact with him. He smiles warmly at you. You never knew a man could look this kind and it threw you off.
“My name’s Shownu. I’m one of Jooheon’s pack members,” he introduces himself. “Also I’m the doctor of the pack. Do you think you can stand on your own?” he asks you. You take a moment to process his words. You then try and sit up, but the pain radiating from your back doesn't allow you to. You let out a grunt as you land back on the ground. Shownu nods his head, understanding.
“I’m going to carry you back to your pack, is that alright?” he asks for your permission. You think that it’s endearing how he asks you. You agree, your intuition saying he’s to trust. He slowly lifts you into his arms. It had been years since someone had carried you. A part of you felt ashamed, but right now you could only seek the warmth that his body gave. Between the walking motion and the warmth, your eyes began to close again, wanting nothing more than to welcome deep slumber.
Shownu had other plans. “Hey, you have to stay awake for at least twelve hours,” he informed you. You let out a groan, understanding the procedure. He chuckles softly. “What’s your name?” he begins the conversation.
“(Y/N)” you tell him. He nods his head. “Are you here to protect my pack, as Jooheon said?” you question. If you were going to stay up for the next twelve to twenty-four hours, you were going to get many answers.
“Yes, and we’re going to protect you as well, not just your pack,” he answers, taking glances down at you to make sure your eyes were open. You hum.
“Why?” you ask, wanting to know the reason why a pack of wolves would want to help a pack like yours, especially now of all years. You see Shownu bite his lower lip, contemplating.
“I can’t tell you that,” he admits. He looks down to see your face in a scowl. “But my leader can. He’s the one with all the answers,” he reassures you. “You’ll meet him soon after we get you checked upon. Okay?” you nod your head in agreement.
From a distance, you hear Phoebe scream your name. You then hear rushed footsteps coming closer to you. Too many voices and too many questions bombard you all at once. None of which make sense to you. You hear Jia yell loudly for the questions to stop. She asks what happened and Shownu explains what he had seen and what your diagnosis was. Jia and the rest of your pack let Shownu bring you into the house. He settles you down on the couch, sitting upright with the help of the pillows. Jia instructs everyone to get her everything she needs.
She begins to evaluate you from your toes to your head. She gently applies pressure around your head, when she reaches the back of your head you let out a hiss of pain. She draws her hand away, instinctively not wanting to hurt you further. Upon looking at her hand, she notices blood. She curses under her breath and goes around to check the back of your head. Her face scrunches up in pain, looking at your wound.
“You received a nasty blow to the head, especially around your occipital lobe. Your body started healing it, but it’s not fast enough.” she places a clean rag behind your head and applies pressure to it. You cringe at the hard pressure she applies, more so to remind you of your actions that lead to where you are now. “Can you explain to me how you ended up like this?” She asks, a stern tone in her voice as she looks at you in the eyes.
You’re lucky that you’re able to remember what happened before and after. You sigh as you began to tell her everything that occurred. Each one of your members listens attentively. As you go through the story, each member holds a different expression. Phoebe looks at you horrified. Hazel looks surprised. Jia scolds you with her eyes and Chachi praises you.
“Oh my god, hell fuckin yes (Y/N)!” Chachi exclaims. “That’s what I call badass.” she pats your shoulder, without thinking. Resulting in you groaning in pain. Chachi steps back, hands in the air as she apologizes. “Whoops, sorry.”
Jia pinches your nose to gain your attention, her eyes holding anger within them. “Seriously (Y/N)? You could have died! We are trying to avoid that, remember?” She scolds you, but you can’t concentrate completely. You blame it on the concussion.
“They wouldn’t have let her die, rather they would have taken her and done whatever they’d want with her.” A deep voice says from across the room. You look to find the owner of the voice. Another man pushes himself from leaning on the wall to walk towards you. You observe his features. He has short light brown hair, dark brown eyes, bow-shaped lips, and a sharp nose. You swore you could have seen him from somewhere. Vague images like deja vu arose but they didn’t make sense.
Taking yourself out of your thoughts, you look around the living room and now take notice of the additional seven people standing around. The only ones you know the names of are Jooheon and Shownu. “Who are you?” you ask, feeling yourself become protective of your pack.
The man from before walks over and squats in front of you. Boldly, he stares into your eyes. “My name is Changkyun. I am the alpha of my pack.” You stare at each other for what feels like hours, but in reality, it's only a couple of seconds. “The ones next to Jooheon are Hyungwon and Kihyun. The two in-between Shownu are Wonho and Minhyuk.”
“Why are you here to protect us and what do you all get out of it?” you question, wanting to finally know why seven males are in your home. You didn’t need to worry about this when you have something much larger to worry about.
Changkyun chuckles, amused by your direct questions. “It’s a lot of information to process. Why don’t we wait until you’re fully healed to talk about it.” He gives you a smile and a soft pat on your knee before standing up.
You couldn't explain it, but you felt a small feeling rumble deep within you when you made eye contact. Although it was only a soft pat on your knee, you somehow yearned for more contact from him, specifically from him. You’ve only just met this man, a few minutes ago. You know nothing about him and yet you had this small yearning. This made you feel weird, scared even. You’ve never experienced anything like this. A part of you wants to figure out what’s causing this feeling, but the other part of you wants to avoid it completely.
“In the meantime, we can finally eat. You are more than welcome to join us,” Phoebe said, bringing you out of your thoughts. You look at her in confusion. ‘We’re just going to let them stay?’ She catches your look and nods her head to confirm your question. “You can follow me if you wish to the kitchen.” Phoebe makes her way to the kitchen with eight people following after her, leaving you, Hazel, Changkyun, and Shownu in the room.
While Changkyun and Shownu are talking to one another, you look at Hazel. She comes to sit next to you on the couch. You begin to whisper to her in the lowest tone possible. “Can we even trust them?”
She takes a few seconds to respond, but she smiles at you. A smile that reaches to her eyes and she looks at you with determination and hope in them. “We can do more than trust them. I saw a premonition with you in it. I believe that if we let them stay, they will help you (Y/N).”
What Hazel didn't mention, was that in her premonition, the alpha is the key. He is the one to help you give in on the full moon.
★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★
A/N: Forgive me for the long overdue post!! I didn’t realize it had been that long! (T_T)
ᴛᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ: @kpop-choco @skittlez-area512
#monsta x#monsta x scenarios#monsta x imagines#i.m scenario#i.m imagine#changkyun scenario#changkyun imagine#monsta x werewolf!au#werewolf au
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Joe/Nicky - Nightmares [G]
Joe keeps watch over Nicky during one of his nightmares. Fluff & Angst.
Nightmares plagued all of them. Dreams about each other stopped as soon as they met. Nicky had a nice way of thinking about it. Destiny. They’ve all been alive for far too long to believe in any god or higher force. Nothing had a sense of humour that cruel to make a person able to live forever, and then to snatch it away with no rhyme or reason. Though maybe something does, and its play with them. Maybe in some long-forgotten past life, they pissed someone or something off just enough to warrant this curse.
Maybe they’re memories. They seem familiar enough. Past skirmishes and wars, and friends lost along the way. He doesn’t like to dwell on them. Being flung awake drenched in a cold sweat and gasping for breath is enough. But one has to wonder.
His memory can only stretch back so far. Then things start to get grainy. He can’t remember the streets of his home, but he can just about make out the general shape of his mother’s face, or the smell of olive oil and garlic.
He remembers the first time he killed Nicky. And the first time Nicky killed him; which was fair, Joe did strike first. And he remembers every look and grazing of fingers against skin and every smile that erupted out of a kiss.
Nicky makes it easier. They all help each other, in their own ways. Joe talks. Booker listens. Andy offers a walk to shake the last chill of fear out of the bones. Nicky stays, waiting until the trembling stops and his heart can slow down.
He remembers the first time; blue eyes watching him through the lapping flames of a campfire, a soft frown creased along Nicky’s brow. He remembers trying to go back to sleep, staving off the cold fear that shivered through him. And his ears twitched at the sound of boots crunching and shifting gravel. A body sat beside him, on his side of their camp. Warm eyes washed over him, keeping the shadows at bay; just until the sun could peer over the nearby mountains and flood light into the cave they had taken shelter in.
Now, though, he curls around Nicky. Or Nicky rests his head on his chest, an arm and leg thrown over him, half-pinning him down to the bed, as if he would get dragged away. Warmth blooms through him then. Even in the worst, storm-riddled nights, he’s warm and safe and anchored.
For the first time in a long time, peace laps and settles over the house. Tucked away in some backstreet of Florence, they’re just waiting for Copley to tell them that it’s clear enough to break cover. After everything that’s happened, the last thing they need is eyes falling back on to them.
So they sleep. Well, most of them do. Andy is still getting used to the whole sensation of it; always having been the one to keep watch throughout the nights. But now she doses like the rest of them, occasionally surfacing at the slight creak of a floorboard or the thrill of a bird outside. When Joe glances over, his eyes soften at the blanket strewn over her, a pillow curled beneath her as she drifts further down into sleep. Nile keeps watch for the night, content enough to perch by the balcony and look out on to the sprawling terracotta city in front of her.
Two thin and worn mattresses pushed together into the corner of the would-have-been living room make up their bed. They sleep how they always have, comfortably and entangled in each other. Even sleeping, their hands clutch on to anything of the other’s that they can find; hands, arms, fistfuls of tees.
Joe breathes. His nose is nuzzled into the back of Nicky’s head. He smells clean, freshly showered and the familiar musk of the man coats the roof of his mouth and settles. He stays like that for God only knows how long. He’s content to be there, swaying in and out of sleep, the familiar scent of his partner lulling over him.
He doesn’t’ know what time it is. An ink-black sky speckled with stars stretches on outside. The first thing he sees through bleary, sleep-sore eyes is Nicky’s shoulders beginning to tremble. His scent changes. Something acrid and bitter stings the roof of Joe’s mouth. His nose wrinkles. Joe makes a quiet nose in the back of his throat. He reaches for one of Nicky’s hands, squeezing firmly. It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe.
It tempers the worst of the tremors, but Nicky’s face still pulls in tightly, a grimace stating to etch into his brow and lips before his breathing starts to stutter.
Joe wades further into consciousness. Shaking the last of sleep from himself, he hushes Nicky tightly. Tremors. Breathing. Noise. He knows what will nip and snarl at Nicky’s nape as a nightmare chases him down. All he can do is try and chase it off. If all else fails, he can just make sure it doesn’t startle the other man too much.
A whine slips out between Nicky’s lips. And then he’s flung. Whatever had been stalking and toying with him was done with their play. Nicky’s eyes snap open, darting around the room as he tries to make sense of what’s what.
Joe shushes him. “It’s alright,” he thrills in Italian, the familiar lull of it lapping over the other man.
Nicky looks over his shoulder. Blue eyes, wide and glinted with fear, settle when they land on Joe. “Angelo,” he breathes, turning in Joe’s arms. Joe loosens them just enough for Nicky to move. The man turns and curls up against Joe’s chest, settling his ear just over his heart. A steady rhythm. One Nicky tries to copy. His own heart hammers and stutters in his chest, at fear of breaking out through his ribcage or coming up his throat.
Joe cards his fingers through Nicky’s hair. It still smells like the generic pharmacy-brand shampoo. And beneath it all, there’s a twinge of something sour. Fear. “You’re alright,” he gentles, combing hair and helping Nicky regain his breath.
Its the worst thing in the world; usually kind and gentle eyes chilled with fear. He doesn’t deserve it. None of them do, but especially Nicky. He’s too kind for what this world has become.
He still trembles. And Joe’s heart aches as he tries to soothe and gentle. He casts a quick glance over Nicky’s shoulder. Nile is watching them from the balcony. She quirks an eyebrow. Alright?
Joe sighs, lifting a shoulder. Nightmare.
Nicky’s nose buries into the hollow of his throat. Every trembling breath eventually evens out and begins to settle. The others can offer all the help they like; Joe settles Nicky and Nicky settles Joe. Each lungful of scent pulled in eases tensed up muscles and a flighty mind. So he smoothes his hand over Nicky’s shoulders and back. He cards his fingers through his hair. He hums something that might have been a lullaby from his mother.
He won’t ask what’s haunting him. Nicky will tell him in his own time. And he can probably hazard a guess as to what it might have been this time. Only because his own nights have been soured with the same heart-stopping and stomach-churning thought.
“Tesoro.”
Joe peers down. Nicky’s usual glimmering blue eyes look back at him. Behind all of it, there’s still a small glint of fear still lingering.
Joe’s heart clenches. “You’re safe,” he mumbles, the words tumbling out from his lips without much thought. They’ve been through countless sleepless nights. Nicky’s brow smoothens. Reaching out tentatively, because there is always the chance that a night terror could come stalking back. Joe brushes the backs of his knuckles over the arch of a cheekbone. “Nothing will ever hurt you,” he breathes. “Not while I’m around.”
The frown returns. Nicky’s face blanches as his hands begin to tremble.
“You won’t be left alone, caro,” Joe insists, trailing the tips of his fingers along Nicky’s jaw. “You’re stuck with me. Understood?”
Nicky’s mouth cracks open. Words try to spill out, but they catch in his throat.
Joe’s eyes harden. He will not have night terrors and evil anxious whispers breathing ridiculous ideas into his lover’s ear. “You and I are bound together,” he mutters, catching Nicky’s cheek in his palm. A soft swell of warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of Nicky’s eyes fluttering closed, and he nuzzles into the touch. He thumbs over the ridge of Nicky’s cheekbone. “I know it’s confusing and scary. But we’ll find out why what happened to Andy happened. Until then, it’s you and me. Like always.”
A long slow sigh leaves the other man. “Ti amo.” Eyes drift down and linger on his lips. It’s as natural to them as breathing; leaning forward to catch lips, sighing contently when their noses brush.
This is all either of them ever needed. Each other. And it’s the source of so much grounding; as long as he’s wrapped around the other man, he’ll be fine. As long as he has those blue eyes looking back at him, and that shy smile he tries to hide whenever Joe looks at him, everything is good.
Nicky breaks them apart, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. Their noses brush and a shared breath sits between them. Words linger on the tip of his tongue. But he swallows. “It’s ridiculous,” he breathes, nestling into their shared bed. A light laugh rattles out of him. He reaches up, skimming his fingers over Joe’s forearm. Skin erupts into gooseflesh. “I’ve had you for longer than anyone has had anyone,” he whispers, “and it’s still not enough time.”
Joe clicks his tongue. “You act as though I’m going somewhere,” he mumbles. And he isn’t. This is his family. His life has no meaning with Nicky.
The other man thins his lips. “It’s not up to you, though,” he replies, his hold on Joe’s arm tightening.
It’s stayed with him. It stayed with all of them. Eyes have lingered on Andy since they drove away from Merrick’s labs. No one mentions it, but it sits on each of their tongues.
They can die.
Joe shakes the thought from his mind. “Shh, now, caro,” he brings himself closer to Nicky. Het blooms where they’re pressed against each other. He parts just for a second, reaching for a blanket kicked down to the foot of their makeshift bed. He tugs it over the both of them, settling down with the other man with a sigh. Nicky’s eyes blearily droop closed. He clambers to stay awake – with Joe, where it’s safe – but he sinks further and further down as sleep washes over him. Joe presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right here, my love. Sleep now.”
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Reaching Out
Codywan 4+1, Angst edition
Four times Cody felt Obi-Wan reach out to the Clones mind with the force, and one time Obi-Wan felt it slip away. (Order 66)
Alright here is the thing I was working on last night. It has been spell checked and my grammar shouldn’t be too bad. In hindsight this isn’t as good as I thought it was at midnight, but ain’t that just the way writing works? Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy it just the same!
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1- In battle
The first time it happened, Cody had more pressing things to worry about, such as staying alive. He was, after all, in the middle of a firefight.
He had lost sight of the General some time ago, the Jedi disappearing in the mess and confusion of battle. The droids were numerous, far more then what they had expected for this campaign and much harder to get rid of then usual.
He’s taking cover behind a pile of debris, most likely a piece of a ceiling if the decorative patterns, half covered by dust, are any indication when it happens.
It feels unlike anything he has experienced before, and it's only looking back after the event that he's able to put any words to it at all. Like the setting sun, all golden and warm, if it were made into a blanket brushing over something deep inside of him. As quickly as the feeling comes, it vanishes, leaving him feeling odd. It's as if on some fundamental level the inherent shape of him has changed, both bigger and smaller.
A blaster bolt slamming into the concrete of his makeshift cover mere inches from his head draws Cody back into the fight and soon enough the strange occurrence pushed aside in favor of returning fire. Whatever it was, it doesn't happen again, and by the time he once again gets eyes on his Jedi, Cody has forgotten all about it.
2- In the mess hall
The next time it happens, Cody is in the mess hall eating the morning meal. It's nothing special, but its also not ration bars, and is therefore an improvement on any number of meals he has had to choke down in his admittedly short life. All around him his men and brothers are starting their day as well, some shuffle in a half-awake state, desperate for the morning cup of caff, others chat amongst themselves.
Cody nearly chokes on his food when the strange warm feeling brushes up against and invades his mind. His eyes water and his breathing goes a bit funny as he tries to clear his airway, and Cody would be damned if the sunny feeling doesn't seem to change in response. It becomes sharper, more focused, and the feeling of being enveloped become more intense. Whatever it is, it almost feels... concerned?
Someone thumps him on the back, and Cody's airway clears. The concerned edge to the intrusion in his mind lingers for a moment until seeming to sigh in relief and relaxing, making one last pass around the edge of his consciousness, all golden and comforting, before pulling away.
"You alright, Vod?" Rex asks as he takes a seat next to the other clone.
"Yeah," the darker haired clone responds after a moment’s hesitation. "Yeah, I'm good."
3- On the bridge
The third time it happens, Cody curses. Loudly.
The ship is under attack yet again, and just once Cody would like it if they could get through a battle without any major damage. Luck, unfortunately, does not appear to be on his side as yet another blow strikes against their forward shields. The whole ship rocks, and Cody grabs onto the holo table for stability, his eyes never once leaving the projected display of the battle that rages around them.
The feeling slams into his mind with all the finesse of a rancor and the curse that comes out of his mouth turns several heads. Where before the feeling had always been one of a calm soothing nature, this time it rages like a burning frost. It screams warning and caution and to move, force help him, move.
His mind comes to a conclusion in an instant, trusting this strange sensation for reasons he can't fully articulate except that it feels safe and familiar.
"GET DOWN!"
Without his helmet he must rely on his own voice to reach the men around him, and the command bellows out with as much authority as Cody can muster. The men scramble to comply just as another, more powerful, blast slams into their deflector shields. This time the shields fail, and Cody's head collides with the edge of the table before him. It's funny, but as his vision slowly goes dark, Cody would swear he could hear General Kenobi calling his name.
4 - In Medical
Consiousness returns slowly. It takes a few seconds before the events of the battle catch up with him, and when they do, Codys eyes fly open as he tries to push himself into a sitting position.
Mistake, that was a mistake.
Pain assaults his head at both the movement and the harsh white lighting of the med bay. He closes his eyes with a groan and lowers himself back down onto his pillows, mentally telling himself that if someone needs him, they know where to find him.
"Cody?"
A warm hand on one of his own draws the clones attention away from the pounding in his skull and Cody opens his eyes, more cautiously this time, and although his eyes are slits, Cody easily makes out the familiar face of his General.
"How do you feel?"
The pain medication he is on has left his mouth painfully dry so takes a second before Cody can get his mouth to cooperate with him, and when he does his voice is raspy from disuse.
"M fine, sir. Head hurts a bit thats s'all"
His words slur slightly in a way that Cody knows means he both has a concussion. This time when the sunny feeling comes, it's gentle. Like a cool washcloth being placed on his forehead. The pain behind his eye’s eases, and the light doesn't feel as harsh as it did a second ago. Cody sighs in relief turning his head slightly as if that will allow him greater contact with the non-existent sensation.
The presence seems to laugh, and Cody is aware of Obi-Wan beside him huffing quietly with amusement.
Suddenly, things click into place.
"Oh,"
Beside him, Obi-Wan lifts an eyebrow.
"Are you sure you're alright Commander."
Between the head trauma and the painkillers, thinking is hard, and words are even harder, but for Obi-Wan, Cody tries. With his free hand, the clone points to his head, squinting against the bright light and doing his best to make eye contact with the Jedi beside him.
"That's you. I wondered."
And because his mouth is no longer obeying him, he whispers "Feels nice."
Cody could be imagining the slight blush that dusts the Jedi's cheeks at the admission, but he's too tired to truly care.
Now that he knows the strange sensation is actually his Jedi and not some side effect from brain trauma, Cody takes the time to properly assesses the force presence. There is something quintessentially Obi-Wan about the way it feels, something in the cool brightness that reminds him of the breeze on a summer day.
He is almost asleep when something occurs to him.
"You've been checking in on me."
That time on the battlefield when they had lost contact with each other, on the bridge in the last battle when Obi-Wan had practically screamed warning in his ear. Even, Cody realizes, that time in the mess hall. In all cases the Jedi was checking in, either to see how he was doing or to make sure he was still alive.
The blush that now decorates the Jedi's face is unmistakable. For the life of him Cody can't figure out if the embarrassment is from being found out, or if the act itself is what the Jedi finds cringeworthy.
"Ah, yes, well... I should actually apologize for that."
"It's alright, sir. It was startling at first but now that I know it's you..." Cody shrugs as best he can given his circumstances, "Just warn a guy first, yeah?"
+1 (ANGST) As a stranger (order 66)
Astride Boga, Obi-Wan feels something shift in the force. It's a familiar, if nauseating feeling, one that he associates with danger and trouble. While the battle had been going well, with Grievous dead and a good chunk of the firing out of the way, Obi-Wan had been hoping that taking the rest of the planet would be simple. What's worse is where the force is telling him trouble is coming from. Not further ahead in the canyon where scores of droids wait, but from behind him.
Without hesitation, the Jedi reaches out in the force, searching for the ever-steady signature of his Commander. It's difficult at this distance to pinpoint the clone he wants, but Obi-Wan pushes through until at last he finds the man he is looking for.
His bond with Cody is a as strong as any force bond can be when only one half of the pair is force sensitive. Its tenuous, chaotic at the best of times, but a constant in the Jedi’s mind. It should be easy enough to reach out and check in on his commander, but something is resisting Obi-wan.
When he does find him, Obi-wan examines the force signature for any signs of distress and finds nothing. The clone feels like the warmth of sun baked earth with a touch of the sea, free from the sour tinge of injury. His relief at finding Cody alive and unharmed is short lived, as the clones force presence is violently shut away behind a durasteel mental shield. It’s as if everything that makes Cody unique is drained away by a strong vortex. What is left behind is hardly recognizable as the Commander.
He has just enough time for dread to fill him before the first canon blast slams into the stone next to him. Boga startles, and that more than anything spurs him into action. He spares one backward glance at where his men stand, flanking the canons. As he fly's away, the tattered mental bond echoes back a single phrase.
Execute Order Sixty-Six, six, six...
#star wars fanfiction#fanfiction#star wars#4+1 fanfic#4+1#codywan#commander cody#Obi-Wan Kenobi#angst#or at least my attempt at angst#My writing
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17: Turning Point
You were going to kill Todoroki when you find him.
Fucking running off and making you follow after him... what the hell does he think he's doing?
Just 30 minutes ago, you, Endeavour, and Todoroki were on patrol when the attacks began. There was screaming left and right, filling the air along with inhuman sounds that belonged to these mutant beasts with brains showing.
Fires and explosions went off and there were pro heroes dealing with these abominations that seemed unkillable
Endeavour was the first to react and quickly burned the thing to a crisp and you were quick to follow his lead.
Once activating your quirk, you punched one of the monsters to the ground and started beating it up, tearing it's limbs off.
The thing slowly regenerated, which brought you frustration.
You bit into it's brain out of rage and pulled its chunks out as it screamed at you.
"Blood God. Move."
You recognized the voice as Endeavour's and slowly got up. You hesitantly looked at the writhing beast beneath you before moving out of the way for Endeavour to burn it.
"You did quite the number on it." He said before fire left his fist.
The man let out a grunt as he roasted the thing alive before turning to you.
"I need you to go after my son and make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Is that understood." He said and proceeded to tell you where to find him.
You grew confused and infuriated when you realized that Todoroki was gone.
What the fuck is he doing? There are villains to fight here!
You had a moment of clarity and spat the brain bits out of your mouth.
"Yes sir."
Before he could respond, another monster came into view and tackled the man. Endeavour shot fire into its face, making it lose its control over the situation.
And thus here you were, trying to find the stupid bicolored brat.
You nearly passed an alleyway before a noise and a flash of yellow and orange caught your eye.
There he was, fighting a deranged looking ninja and... and the greenette brat. For some reason, when the man licked his blade, Todoroki fell to the ground, laying on the ground.
Just as the man was about to strike the bicolored moron, you leapt into action, quite literally.
Your body rammed the man, making him tumble back and rip up his clothes from the pavement. He was caught in a daze before shaking it off and searching for who was responsible.
"...All Might?" The man said breathlessly before narrowing his eyes.
"...no... you're not All Might."
You ignored this as your brain was registering who this man was. You knew he was familiar, no one can forget someone with his ugly mug. You heard of his ideas and his rants about society a few times before. Everyone has.
You especially heard of what he did to a pro hero by the name of Ingenium.
"So... you're the hero killer: Stain."
The crazed man slowly stood up held his sword out, pointing at you.
"You... you're the fake that nearly killed the bicolored one." He spat.
You simply ignored this and looked past him to see Deku, Iida, and a man in a Native American themed costume. Midoriya locked eyes with you and immediately yelled to you in desperation.
"Don't let him lick your blood, His quirk will paralyze you!"
Stain shifted in front of you to block your view from the greenette, which you were thankful for.
"So you've come to save your fake hero friends..." he said.
"They're not my friends." You stated.
"Hm... doesn't really matter anyways..." he said before shooting forward.
He was fast, you wouldn't lie, but you were also quick on your feet.
You ducked down really low and grabbed his feet, which took him by surprise, and pulled them out from under him.
You didn't hesitate to drag him and spin around the ground before making him go airborne for a quick second and having him make impact with the wall. Hard.
He should have passed out. Should have. But he didn't.
This infuriated you more as you quickly went to grab his face, only for him to lift his sword up just as quickly.
He left a shallow cut on your shoulder, to which you quickly grabbed the blade and pulled it away from him. You weren't about to leave the blade with him since it caught a bit of your blood.
You backed away from the slightly dazed man, who slowly walked towards you.
"You dare... take my blade... you damn fake."
"You dare take my blood, you murderer." You said back to him in a mocking tone, holding his blade in your now bloodied hand.
The man smirked, narrowing his eyes at you as he started walking forward.
"Heh... you're skillful and intelligent... I'll give you that."
He lifted his bloody hand up and licked it, which confused you for a moment before you fell limp.
The sword that you once held clattered to the ground along with your body. Stain approached you slowly like a predator ready to strike.
"...it's a shame your quirk makes you bleed out naturally."
He picked up the blade and pulled out another before standing over you.
"Any last words, fake?" Stain said while placing his two blades on both sides of your neck.
"...of all the things..."
The man's nasty smile fell and he cocked his head to the left in confusion.
"What was that?"
"Of all the things to go after... you chose fakes that still did their jobs of saving lives...? You... you could have used your skills... your fighting experience to kill pedophiles... rapists... human traffickers..." you glared daggers into the now expressionless man's eyes.
"You could have taken the hero's jobs and still make a god damn statement about how unreliable fakes are... but instead you chose to target corrupt politicians, people with shitty fucking opinions over... over actual murderers." You spat out a bit of your blood as your quirk was still activated.
"There are people you could have saved that the frauds failed to do, but instead you go after a bunch of stupid kids who wear their hearts on their sleeves, one of which had his older brother sent to the damn hospital because of you." Your voice cracked as you grew both fearful and angry each second.
This man was going to kill you, you realized. He was going to kill you, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
Everyone else was paralyzed including you.
Oh god.
You were going to die.
You never even got to save anyone and become a hero.
Fresh blood and tears trailed down your cheeks more and more, staining your (h/c) hair.
The man still stared down at you with no emotions on his face. His smile was long gone, replaced with a slight frown.
Just then, a flash of green knocked the man away from you, which caused one of the blades to leave a shallow cut into your neck.
You couldn't move your head, only your eyes and mouth, but you knew who it was.
The greenette held up against the man while the rest of you laid there paralyzed.
Soon, the ingenium kid, Iida, got back control over his body and joined the battle.
You were paralyzed both physically and mentally.
You almost died. You were about to be decapitated.
You were still in danger, after all, he isn't in cuffs yet.
But you were staring your death in the eyes.
In all of your 16 years of life, you had never been faced with something as severe as your own death.
You seen death before, you do visit the hospital and you have gotten to meet patients with terminal Illnesses.
But never have you battled your own death.
Is this what helplessness is like?
You didn't like it.
Not one bit...
You stayed laying there until someone came to pick you up.
"...No..." you croaked out, not realizing that it was the ingenium kid.
"(L/n)-san, I'm here to help." Iida said while giving you up into a piggyback ride.
"...Stain." You said, growing weaker as your quirk slowly deactivated itself.
"We took care of him..."
You could have sworn you saw tears collect in the kid's eyes.
"You all did..."
You couldn't hold onto consciousness any longer and slipped into darkness.
You woke up to the smells and sounds of a hospital, finding odd comfort in the familiar environment.
A formal voice was talking in the background followed by a woof. You didn't open your eyes but instead listened to what he was saying.
It took you a couple minutes to realize that he was talking about the legality that was the battle against Stain. A whole bunch of junk about how todoroki, Iida, and the greenette brat should be punished for initiating a fight against the villain.
"...they're the only one who was given permission by a pro hero to help keep you out of trouble and did what they were told."
It was obvious he was referring to you.
After chewing them out more in a professional way, the mutt finally told them that they have an option to pretend it was Endeavour who took out the hero killer and avoid punishment.
Although reluctant, they were forced to agree.
The police chief muttered his thanks to the kids and then left.
"...is he gone yet?" You said out loud, wincing at your dry throat and the scratchiness in your voice.
Your eyes were closed the entire time, so you didn't see the dog-headed man leave.
You heard a bit of gasping near you and some shuffling.
"You're awake!"
That annoying voice. That damn annoying voice you hate so much is talking to you.
There was a moment of silence, which made the three boys believe they were just hearing things before you spoke.
"...I believe I should give credit where credit is due..."
While you refused to open your eyes while saying this, you could still hear everything around you.
"You saved my life... Deku... and I... appreciate this second chance at life and shall cherish it..."
You could feel the shock radiating off the greenette. Tch. So obvious.
"...but don't think that for a second that I'll be picking daisies with you. I still fucking hate your guts." You said.
"Eh? How is that being appreciative???" Iida asked in a bewildered tone.
You didn't answer, which made the blue haired gentleman start making chopping motions with his broken arm before yelping when it let out a crack and pop.
"Iida!"
~~~~~~
Old habits die hard, aye? Iida couldn't help but try to scold Mc, which didn't work out for him since he just made his arm worse.
Looks like Mc is slowly gonna respect Izuku... until they find out about All Might being their secret dad.
And when they learn that Midoriya knew before them.
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Allotrope pt. 6
Genre: Idolverse
Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader
Warnings: Fluffy memories and happiness. Explicit sex of various types. Dominant roleplay. Slight mentions of three-way. X-EXO Suho has wrecked me beyond my own grave thanks.
prev. / next
Words: 11k.
Illuminating your lockscreen, the face that stares back at you is hauntingly beautiful. A face you know well, but the cerulean of his eyes contrasts excitingly with the shock of red hair on his head as he wears a devilish smirk.
You turn your phone face down in your lap, trying to quell the excitement in your bones as you wait patiently for your cab to arrive at the location Sehun sent to you. He seemed to be quite fond of you now that your relationship is legitimate and he knows you well enough to tell you aren’t just fucking with his closest brother.
‘You should come to the MV shoot. Manager said you could’ he had texted you last night.
You’d wanted to scold him for asking you to come at the very last moment, less than 24 hours before, but refrained because at least he asked you to come at all.
‘Don’t tell hyung’ came a second text.
‘It will be a nice surprise’ he had followed up in a series of messages with thumbs up and secret emojis.
You haven’t been able to see your boyfriend for several weeks. Only messages and video calls were smattered between your hectic lives as often as time would allow you both.
This relationship has not been easy necessarily, but the work you and Junmyeon have both put forth in effort has not gone unnoticed by the other, or those around you. You bicker from time to time, but not over anything serious. Mostly about what to order for dinner or characters in books you’re both reading or movies you’re watching together.
It’s the distance at times and the lingering sense of isolation or loneliness you feel when you can’t see each other for weeks and video-chats are a weak solace to soothe the ache. It was worse at first- attempting to get used to the come and go of his chaotic schedules before your own replaced the free time. You’ll admit the severity lagged when you went back to school, less idle than before.
This late in the year, you’re halfway finished with the current semester, and Junmyeon is close to releasing their latest album, ‘Obsession’ with the rest of the group. You hope that all of the time you’ve been unable to be together has grown sweet fruit for you both.
He did share a lot of selfies with you, featuring his new red hair which he happily told you he really likes. In his words, he said it makes him feel rebellious. You can’t say you dislike the color on him, especially when it is styled into the horns of his painfully hot doppelganger of X-EXO, but you prefer him in his natural state, all fluffy and unstyled dark hair.
The teaser images he sent to your phone last week had come with a warning ‘For Y/N’s eyes only!’ via text with lots of cute sound words. You had to cover your mouth to prevent your soft gasp from escaping into even the quiet of the library. You bent yourself over suspiciously, shielding your screen as you memorized the images.
Bouncing your leg in the back of the cab, thoughts of Junmyeon continue to permeate your consciousness, and you let them without feeling sad or lonely. You’ll finally get to hold him today, so you replay your favorite memories in your head with a fondness that makes your heart flutter.
You recall the middle of July, when the Summer heat was at its peak and you had a video call with him from the roof of your apartment building. You had explained your fascination with the magic of the balmy summer night sky and the light show that danced above your head with a giddy happiness. You know he was barely able to see your face or the stars from the screen, but it was something.
Three days later, immediately after the release party for Chanyeol and Sehun’s unit album, Junmyeon had taken you to a restaurant with rooftop dining. He had reserved the entire space so you could enjoy the night sky like that with him, in person this time. Properly, he had reasoned. You hardly remember the meal, but you smile fondly as you conjure the memory of his face. The soft glow of tall white taper candles illuminating his cheeks and lips and that reflected the stars in his own eyes. You cover your mouth at your own sappiness, but it’s the truth.
Trying his best to be as romantic and cheesy as possible, he’d brought you to the center of the roof and hummed a tune at first, that eventually turned to singing quietly to you while he twirled you around slowly. Swaying in time to the tempo he kept, smiling like idiots every time your eyes met while he held your hand in one of his, the other at your waist.
Vaguely, you remember you were wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He was, too. Casual to match your level of comfort. You laugh to yourself and catch the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror when you remember the embarrassment of your attire for such an occasion once you realized what was going on. Sweetly, Junmyeon was right beside you, holding your hand and telling you it didn’t matter because he liked you best when you were relaxed.
That night you remember falling asleep with your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat as he hummed contentedly and drifted off.
Another memory pops into your head from the following month. In your apartment when he wanted to try cooking with you. You were aware he was not ever one to cook, and you couldn’t say you were greatly skilled at any of the meals you’d ever made. Eventually, after many, many tweaks to the recipe and ditching it in the trash altogether once, you had managed to make something not just edible, but good. Perhaps the ambition to try a new recipe was at fault for the chaos in your kitchen.
You had eaten quickly, ignoring the mess of ingredients everywhere. Certain there was rice in your hair, you snuck a peek at Junmyeon, who had a smear of flour across one eyebrow and his forehead. The shock that made his eyes sparkle with delight when he realized it was good is something you’ll never forget. He was so proud, tucking a giant smirk into the corner of his lips so he could chew properly as he said the word.
The fondness that fills your chest with warmth and fuzziness remembering the time spent together cooking it is sweeter and more satisfying than any meal could ever be. The laughter and the way Junmyeon smiled at you in triumph when you succeeded with the second attempt. The joke he made about the two of you hosting a MasterClass on cooking.
You worked together to clean up to an acceptable standard before he whisked you away for a shower and claims of being hungry for dessert.
In September, you’d purchased tickets to surprise him with, going to a new interactive set of exhibits at a gallery in the city, although the weather didn’t turn out to be very nice. Happily walking side by side through each piece or stopping to take some pictures of each other at a few. The final exhibit was a large display involving lights and mirrors. You were walking through it giggling to yourself until the gloomy day turned into a storm that knocked the power out.
You had been able to see most of the exhibits, so neither of you were upset that you suddenly had to leave and go back to your apartment. Thankfully, you always kept a micro umbrella in your purse. As it turns out, umbrellas that small are not meant for two. You both got wet, huddling under the small protection you had and laughing until your cheeks hurt, but at least you had anything at all to cover your heads.
Just after arriving and unlocking your door, Junmyeon became extremely playful. Much the entertainer, he dragged you up onto the roof to enjoy the warm rain after you ditched your things inside. Your clothes were already dripping with rainwater. It came down heavily, soaking your hair and face. You had laughed, barely able to keep your eyes open as it poured over you.
That was when he had kissed you. Taking your cheeks in both of his hands, he had pulled you against him and kissed the droplets from your lips until you could hear your heart beating louder than the rain. Your lover had kissed you as if he were afraid he would melt and the feel of your body against him was the only tether to the moment. He’d kissed you until you felt soaked through from more than just rain.
Your boyfriend said nothing but carefully walked you back down the emergency stairs and into your apartment and straight into your living room, flinging sopping wet shirts and pants across the floor with wet slaps against the kitchen tile, desperate to keep his lips on yours. He still kissed you, slowly and deeply, even after he had laced your fingers together and pressed your back into the cushions of your couch.
You remember his tenderness and the way he had made love to you. The way he kept his forehead pressed against yours, and every drop of rain that fell from his hair onto your skin was kissed away by the fullness of his lips. The way the rain beating against the windowpanes painted his skin in moving watercolor hues of muted gray blue. The deep and slow strokes of his length along your walls, making you both feel every inch of one another, softly in a way that still satisfied the need to reach completion together.
You remember quietly listening to the sound of the storm as you stood naked in the middle of your living room, caressing towels over one another and the gentle press of your lips to his as you fluffed his hair.
You recall the power was out all night, and Junmyeon choosing to light some candles and read a book he was almost halfway finished. You begged him to read some aloud to you as you made a pillow out of his thigh, much to his initial refusal. The topic was something philosophical but not boring, and you had fallen asleep to the feel of his warm and comforting skin and the sound of his soothing voice within minutes.
Just last month in October, during your first week of exams, he had surprised you with flowers. Knowing it was your first day of the brutal and long testing periods, you had come home with a stale but free end-of-day bagel protruding from between your lips from your favorite shop across the street from your apartment. You found a large bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase on the kitchen island. A box of your favorite chocolate sat beside it with a card.
‘Sweetheart,
I hope these will make you smile after your first day of exams.
You’ve worked so hard and I’m really proud of you.
So cheer up and keep fighting!
I want to see you soon… ;^;
PS don’t worry I didn’t break in. I asked Soohyun to deliver these.
xoxo
J.’
The gifts were wholly appreciated and sweet, but the fact that he had to ask Soohyun for help made you feel a little bit bad for both of them. The idea of giving him a key is one you had entertained before- especially when he needed some time to himself. Junmyeon knows he is welcome even if you’re not home.
You remember when it dawned on you randomly, going around your apartment and smiling, suddenly wondering when the second toothbrush showed up in the cup on the sink. Or when the shoe rack in your closet began to house pairs of men’s sneakers or slides beside your own. Or when a pair of reading glasses that aren’t yours showed up on the nightstand opposite yours beside the bed, sitting atop a book with a marker jutting from the top halfway through its pages which you’ve never read, along with a copy of a script for a play he was starring in soon. Or when the roller of men’s deodorant showed up on your vanity beside your own.
In that moment, the natural progression of your relationship with him made your chest swell with pride, easing some of your fears. You had asked Soohyun for his opinion before you committed to it. When the question popped out, you were met with honest but sincere acceptance. It felt like crossing a line or taking that next step. The notion made you feel nervous and turbulent, but Soohyun’s trust and guidance was something you knew you could rely on. It wasn’t as if he was moving in completely.
You had given the key to Junmyeon the week before the SM Halloween Party, nonchalantly and casually pulling it from your bag with a cute rabbit keychain. You dropped it into his palm just as you were leaving their dorm after helping some of the boys with their costumes, making last minute adjustments.
You wanted to tell him he didn’t have to use it if he didn’t want to or if it felt weird, but that you wanted him to have it sincerely. Instead, nervously you said nothing at all and made a beeline for the door, quickly making an exit before he could respond, fanning the flames on your cheeks as you left.
Junmyeon had been faster, catching you before you could make your way too far down the hall on their floor and spinning you into his frame with happiness.
Several times he had taken you up on the offer just to get some peace. His manager always knew where he was, and you have come home from work to find him there multiple times. Once, you recall with a laugh, cutely sitting in the middle of your couch with a notebook in front of him and his hair clearly mused from running his hand through it, scribbling lyrics for the solo album he has been working on from time to time.
Another day he was pacing back and forth in the living room with his script in hand for the play he was starring in. He asked you to help him with a scene or two after you took a shower and ordered takeout.
Your favorite instance of finding him in your home was a late night after a long and boring lecture and an even longer shift immediately after. Tired and frustrated and you believed with red wine in your hair from an incident involving another server, all you wanted was to take a hot shower and go to sleep.
You didn’t know he was there at first, too focused on tossing your bag down on the couch and turning the knob down until it couldn’t go any hotter in the shower. Walking into your room with a towel wrapped around your body, you’d found your bedspread a heap of mess and a head of fluffy black hair peeking out from the top.
The sight of him so content in your bed, even without you, eased any remaining stress your shower couldn’t burn out of your weary bones. He stirred briefly when you swept some of his bangs out of his eyes, brows furrowing and his bottom lip, much fuller and more prominent than his top, pushing into an easy pout. He groaned only once when you had pressed your lips to his cheek before dressing and sliding under the covers on your side.
After you’d settled and your eyes closed, you heard him move. Before sweet sleep could take you, he had found you in his own sleep, curling his arm into the crook of your waist to press your back to his chest. Faintly, you remember his lips finding the back of your neck as you both fell asleep.
The memory of Halloween comes next, constricting your chest in a mix of emotions. The SM Halloween Party. The only event you could safely be invited to attend to keep your relationship private. However, the one place that made you feel extremely self-conscious.
You would meet many pairs of eyes, from company managers and executives to other idols who knew Junmyeon better than you. The thought of their disapproving eyes upon you made you pace in front of your mirror. Junmyeon was due to arrive any moment, and the feel of your costume against your skin didn’t feel right.
When he entered, wearing his fangs and cape and looking every bit as handsome as you knew he truly was, he frowned at you. At the way you had chewed your lip swollen and the frantic, unsettling looking in your eyes as you grabbed at the parts of yourself you disliked most in the mirror, pinching at your skin through the costume.
He'd stepped behind you, holding you still by your hips and asking what was wrong. When you had told him, you remember the look in his eyes when his gaze met yours in the mirror. The way his face softened for you and he kissed gently at the back and sides of your neck. You remember, with a grin, the way he bit playfully at your skin with the plastic teeth over his own while his big brown eyes looked at you with so much ardor you couldn’t watch for long.
Goosebumps light your skin there in the cab, remembering with a shudder the way he made you believe that you were beautiful, telling you to remember than confidence is sexy and validating your right to think so about yourself.
The way he made you feel what you do to him and the way he coaxed you to your bed, stripping you both of your costumes. The way he finally, at long last, made you believe there was nothing to be worried about when you clutched your headboard with both hands and let him lie beneath your spread thighs.
He comforted your skin with his palms, soothing over the muscles in a loving manner until he needed you closer, digging his fingertips into the flesh to pull you down against him. All while his tongue licked every drop of your anxiety from you with a delightful groan.
You sat, riding the pleasure as your worry melted into his mouth like liquid candy. The way you were convinced by his body tells, transfixed with your head twisted back to watch his own pleasure seeping down the sides of his cock, sitting red and swollen and jumping with every sound you made. The way his abdomen was tight, his hips struggling to remain still.
The way, when you reached back to touch him, he denied you. When you lifted your core from his mouth for a moment to protest, the growl of your name he emitted was nearly your undoing. He told you, voice dangerously low, that if you touched him at all he would explode.
The way, moments later when you screamed his name and shuddered above him, his own body twitched in euphoric bliss as he lost control and the proof of his need for you dripped heavily from his twitching length to pool on his abdomen.
The way he beamed with pride while he held your hand tightly in his when you entered the party an hour late and received the first wave of watchful and curious eyes. That night, there were no eyes meeting yours that made you feel inferior. Only smiles and laughter and new friendships were formed.
You’re jostled from the memories when the car pulls onto a graveled surface. Outside the window, you watch the tires kick up dust until the car smoothly glides to a stop in front of a large building that resembles a warehouse. The last rays of the sun pushing through twilight are casting a beautiful array of colors across the sky.
Giving the driver your thanks, you step out to the greeting wave of Junmyeon’s Manager holding open a door. “Thank you for letting me watch,” you bow.
He smiles at you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger, “You’re welcome. It’s nice to see you again, have you been well?” You smile at him in return, falling into step beside him where he guides you.
Your heart begins thumping in your chest deeply as if it only comes to life in the vicinity of your lover. “I’ve been busy, but fine thank you.”, you reply.
Rounding a corner and through another door, you are met with a wide expanse of space. Cameras and lights and sound equipment of all sorts are set up on various small stages, miniature sets of rooms for certain scenes within the video you assume.
A row of chairs and mirrors lines a wall beside you, and an assortment of sporting-goods brands duffle bags and sneakers, hats and sweatshirts are piled beside each one. Makeup kits and cosmetics, combs and cans of hairspray are organized atop each of the tables beside each mirror.
“Oh! Look who decided to show up,” hollers a familiar voice. Your head follows the sound of it to see Baekhyun swinging his arms as he approaches you. He looks handsome with his shock of white hair, and mysterious with the delicate silver chain draped over his nose and cheeks.
You smile at him, covering your mouth at the sight of his appearance, dressed as his evil doppelganger, “You look awesome.”
He grins at you cheekily and lifts his brows coquettishly, “Thank you.”
“We’re almost finished for today, but I’m glad you could come. We weren’t sure if you would be able to.”, he comments.
Nodding, you look around the sets for the rest of them. You can’t see them, but you can hear laughter around the side of one of the walls, “Yeah, I’m glad too.”
Baekhyun pauses his stride as he passes you, beckoning you after him. Looking to Junmyeon’s Manager, he motions for you to follow the idol. “He has no idea you’re here,” Baekhyun says with mischief in his tone.
Rounding the corner, your eyes find the other men standing in a loose circle on one of the sets, laughing. Baekhyun extends his arms wide while approaching, “Yah look who I found!”
They catch his comment, heads turning and multi-colored eyes lifting at different moments within the same two seconds to see who is beside him. They are all dressed in mostly-leather costumes, colored in pairs that match in some way. Reds, yellows and blacks. You hold your breath, watching the expression that morphs on Junmyeon’s face.
His brows rise toward his red hairline in shock before they fall back down and knit in confusion accompanied by his pouted lips. Immediately after, he smiles fully. Your favorite slight-box grin that makes the apples of his cheeks rise high and makes his eyes curl into half-moons, crinkling at the corners. It completely diminishes any traces of the danger his other half is portrayed to possess.
You watch him, almost in slow motion as he moves toward you in long strides. The flaming tips of his shoes pointed straight toward you until his arms extend and he crushes you to him, folding your body against his chest with both arms.
Laughing, you let him hug you, enjoying the brief moment of physical contact before a Manager tells them all the break is over. Just before he must let you go; you pick up the familiar scent of his deodorant. The thought that it is comforting makes you stifle another laugh.
Quietly standing beside their manager, you watch the rest of tonight’s shoot go by in a flurry of movement. You watch Chanyeol brag about being the only member flexible enough for the intro center of the choreography, only to complain about the soreness in his groin after.
You laugh when Jongdae nearly sends the chess table prop crashing to the ground as he leans a palm against it during the last powerful chorus every single time they run through it. He shouts his frustration in a whine each time a quiet wave of laughter moves through the crew from it. Your attention is rapt on Junmyeon as they repeat the dance over and over, looking every bit as powerful and dangerous as his X-EXO counterpart is meant to be.
They’re all doing their best not to move too much or look too winded or tired. Their breaths are measured where they stand in the middle of the set resembling an abandoned parking garage. The white flicker of the light in the back of the space doesn’t quite penetrate the depth of darkness surrounding the idols, but you can still clearly see Junmyeon’s eyes staring at you from his position on the right.
The moment the director calls cut they drop to the floor or lean on their knees or one another, panting for breath. The crew surrounding the set begins to clap, voicing praise for the job well done today.
You wait patiently, not quite sure what to do with yourself and feeling a bit out of place as you stand there awkwardly playing with your hands. Junmyeon finds you a moment later, hastily swallowing large mouthfuls of water from a bottle. He drinks the entirety of one while his eyes look down at you before twisting the cap from another and raising it to his lips.
He relents, offering you the remaining half after he’s had his fill. You smile at him, taking the bottle from his fingers. Sweat shines on his forehead, neck and chest. “You worked hard today,” you grin up at him.
Junmyeon smiles, wiping at the corner of his mouth and taking your hand in his, “Thank you.”
He leads you away from the bustling set full of crew, managers and idols for just a moment’s worth of privacy. You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your chin on his sternum as you look up at him. He fusses briefly, protesting, “I’m sweaty and gross.”
You laugh, squeezing the balmy warmth of him tighter, “I don’t care. I’ve missed you.”
He smiles, lighting up for you and breaking free just so he can dip low enough to capture your lips in a lingering kiss. Even the simple pressing of his mouth against yours sends shivers down your spine. The feel of his palms are warm against your neck and cheek as he steals one, two more quick pecks.
Too quickly you feel the heat of blood rushing to your cheeks and your heart hammering so fast in your chest you have to step away to catch your breath.
He laughs, grinning, “Did you miss me that badly?” His fingers reach for you again, pulling you back toward him.
“I did, but I’m blaming all of this for now,” you admit, gesturing to his entire frame.
He quirks a brow at you, licking his lips, “What about it?” Junmyeon knows exactly what you mean. He knows you’re absolutely weak for this look on him and that the entirety of X-EXO Suho makes you squeeze your thighs together and bite your lip.
“You know what I mean,” you suck the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth, embarrassed by your physical response to his proximity.
A wolfish grin spreads across his face, dropping into the persona of his evil counterpart. The hand at your waist grips you tighter as the other raises your chin to look at him. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing until he whispers, “What are you thinking about?”
You struggle against him just a little, squirming in his strong hold, “Do I excite you?” He whispers the question, eyeing your lips as he rubs his thumb along the softness of it once you release it from your teeth.
Sehun’s voice drenches the moment in ice cold water, “Hyung, hurry up!” he whines from a distance.
You take a deep breath, released from Junmyeon’s firm hold as he sighs, instead taking your hand in his as he melts back into his usual self, smiling prettily at you with wide eyes that sparkle like the sun glinting off of pool water. You notice the tips of his ears are red but choose not to say anything about them, busying yourself with ordering an uber instead.
Much too quickly for your preference, the men you know and adore come to say goodbye one by one as they change back into their street clothes before leaving the set for the day. Of course, only Junmyeon puts his hands on you. He holds you until the last possible moment as the dot on your phone draws up to the building and it vibrates, alerting you that your ride is here.
________________________________________
Three weeks have passed since the music video shooting, but thankfully you’ve been able to see Junmyeon a few times. You’d been there to celebrate both the release of the new album and Chanyeol’s birthday, joining them in their dorm just after their live broadcast two days ago.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, remembering the loud complaints from the birthday boy himself when he came knocking on Junmyeon’s door telling you both what he wants for his birthday from you. Silence, so he doesn’t have to drown out the sounds of pleasure seeping through the door or leave the dorms altogether.
Today, Junmyeon, nor any of the boys for that matter, have any idea you’re here. It’s all thanks to his Manager, truthfully. He had given you special copies of the new album, one of each kind, all autographed. Additionally, his parcel had come with a lightstick that was already glittering with the name ‘SUHO’ down the shaft, and a ticket to their SM stage with a VIP pass.
Over the last several months, you’ve had snippets of conversation with all of their Managers, but Junmyeon’s in particular seems to have taken a liking to you the most. He has been the one to help you arrange time to see Junmyeon and who has accompanied you on a few dates with him, quietly admiring the way you’re growing together. Admittedly, his presence as a silent third wheel took some getting used to.
He has told you, on more than one occasion over a meal, how thankful he is to you for having come into Junmyeon’s life and for being supportive and understanding of his career and the difficulties that come with it. It has always ended with you thanking him in return for being supportive of your relationship and for being such a pillar of strength for Junmyeon.
The crew standing in the pit between the stage and the guardrail you’re crammed against seem to know who you are. A few of them you recognize as well. One woman holding a clipboard and a wearing a headset brightly smiles directly at you. One of their set directors, if you’re not mistaken.
The show begins with EXO themselves, all dressed in black and looking ready for a fight. You have a blast screaming the fan chant along with the song, raising your lightstick high and waving it around with the powerful music.
You don’t stop until the boys are standing still and panting, having snapped their necks for the final move of the choreography. The approach the front of the stage, sweeping their eyes over the sea of their beloved fans. You’re sure it’s probably difficult for them to see the faces of the fans with the bright stage lights shining down on them and drowning the crowd in darkness.
When they’ve finished waving, the lights dim and the idols in front of you light up with smiles and more vigorous, friendly waves all around, able to see faces and read signs in the undulating mass of cheering. You do the one thing you know will get you noticed.
You stand still.
Chanyeol notices you first after a few minutes, squatted down and waving with a head tilt at the crowd. He plays off his surprise well before he stands and turns back nonchalantly. Baekhyun comes after, grinning wide and barking a laugh.
None of the fans seem any wiser, and the anxiety you thought you would feel never swells in your throat. They’re so good at interacting with their fans that nobody has any clue what the easy smiles and laughter passed between you all mean.
Junmyeon appears to have been clued in on your presence, his eyes flicking to yours briefly to confirm you’re standing there pressed up against the railing, but he controls his expression into his typical smile. He doesn’t dare to express any greater form of glee toward you than anyone else.
A bit later, after their comments as EXO, they descend beneath the stage with waves and smiles, only to slip out from the wings of the stage minutes later.
This time, they’re not who they seem while they sing the same track, if only with a bit of an aggressive edge and intensity to their choreography and looks. They seem dangerous, smirking and cocky but ultimately enjoying every moment they get to spend as their alternate selves on stage.
This time, Junmyeon looks directly at you and rubs at his bottom lip as if he wants to reprimand someone. Fans around you erupt with squeals, confessions of love unable to be contained within their throats.
He takes his in-ear out and squats down near you, waving to fans and licking his lips. “He’s ridiculously hot as X-Suho, isn’t he?” one of the women beside you sighs dreamily, fanning herself. You laugh with her, agreeing wholeheartedly.
His brow raises conspicuously as he stands back up and peers down at you with a wicked grin. You don’t think he heard you or the woman beside you, and it isn’t like he doesn’t know what this side of him does to you. You’ve confessed to him at least once how much this persona of his makes you sweat.
He takes six long strides to the other side of the stage to pay that end as much attention. Time passes slowly as you watch them entertain both the cameras and themselves as X-EXO. They laugh and sing and dance and play games. Before you realize what’s happened, he’s gone, along with most of the others. Only Sehun and Chanyeol are left on the stage, asking the fans if they like EXO or X-EXO more. They mock EXO, gently scolding fans with their disappointment when they tell the crowd to be consistent.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you peer at it to see a text from his Manager.
‘Go back out and follow the signs for VIP access.’ It reads.
You look up and around but can’t see much other than lightsticks illuminating a mass of darkness. It’s pretty, you think. Without much struggle, you maneuver your way back out of the crowd. It warms your heart, to think their fans are decent and considerate enough to move out of the way or ask if you’re alright as you leave. You don’t mention the VIP access, you don’t want a target on your back.
You’ve found the VIP area and find, sneakily, you’re the only one there. You wonder if you were the only person granted one. Their Manager walks through a door, smiling as he greets you and motions for you to follow.
Halfway down a long corridor behind the stage, Junmyeon comes into view, stalking toward you. He doesn’t say anything at all. He grins at his Manager, nodding, before he slips his hand into yours and pulls you further down the hall.
There is a pause in front of a closed door, where you nearly plant your nose directly into his shoulder when he stops. Junmyeon’s brows knit together and his eyes narrow. His mouth makes a shape similar to a loose ‘o’, a series of micro-expressions that together you’ve learned mean he is pensive but uncertain.
The bright blue of his eyes look sharply in each direction before he takes a deep breath and quickly shoves the door handle down and pulls you into the room before slamming it closed.
You’re barely able to note the color of the walls before he whirls on you, seeming menacing and troublesome. He still doesn’t say anything, watching the stillness of your frame and making you squirm under his gaze.
You don’t move. Instead, you’re fascinated by the role he plays. You use the moment to take a good look at him. The effect of the cut at the corner of his left cheekbone, the cerulean color of the contacts softly edged by dark shadow of burnt reds and browns. The slant of his brows and the shape of his hairline crested red and gelled into horns that don’t seem cliché, but rather, ridiculously good-looking on his head.
You feel the heat of his closeness, the warmth of his skin in the center of his exposed chest and abdomen. The color of his suit and his hair and the flames on the tips of his shoes calling him to become the opposite personification of his element. It doesn’t feel wrong though. Instead if feels dangerous and passionate and you don’t fight the way this color wraps itself around him and becomes something altogether sinfully good and unholy.
It makes you bite your lip, and the motion is not lost on him. His hand lifts to your neck. He slides his palm flat, fingers brushing your throat, up until he cups the tip of your chin and tilts your face up to his. “What are you thinking about?”, he asks quietly. You never did answer him at the video shoot.
“You,” comes your answer, whispered into the space between you.
“Me? Not Junmyeon?”, he asks curiously, wolfish as he steps closer into your space. You understand the game he’s playing and for once, you don’t want to bicker with him on it. The way he’s looking at you as if he intends to devour you makes excitement thrum in your veins like electricity.
“Answer me,” he bites, stirring you from your thoughts. The command in his tone sends a shiver down your spine.
“Yes, you,” the words come easily from your throat, thick with a potency for action between your bodies.
He smirks, tilting his head and leaning in to whisper, “I heard you earlier, by the way. What is it, I wonder, that excites you so much?”
You don’t answer again, much to his displeasure. “Being a bad girl today, are we angel?” he mocks. The sound of a new pet name falling from his lips sends heat to your cheeks instead, smiling at him.
“Oh?” he tuts, “I’ll have to fix that.”
This dangerous side of him steals the breath from your lungs with lips that send an inferno straight to your core. He bites at your lips, demanding entrance and groaning aloud when you acquiesce.
He kisses you hard, branding you with the searing heat of his lips as he repeats his desire for you over and over until you’re squeezing your thighs together with a moan. His fingers leave your neck, climbing higher into your hair and gently pulling a fist full of it back.
When he finds your eyes, you see an edge of uncertainty, a question swimming even in the artificial blue depths.
He swallows thickly, brushing saliva from the corner of his mouth with the back of one knuckle, “I won’t be gentle, angel. If you can’t handle it we have to stop here.” You appreciate his warning to make sure you’re okay with the game he wants to play.
He relents when your expression morphs into delighted eagerness, wanting to play just as badly. “I don’t want you to be gentle,” you breathe, trying to move your head, testing if he maintains his grip on your hair. You hum happily, finding that he does.
He smiles devilishly, using his strength to force your knees to the floor. Releasing you, he moves his hand to brush your hair from your eyes. Your own hands climb his thighs, softly pressing into his muscles through the fabric of his pants.
You look up to his face, watching him lean a palm against the wall. He smirks, raising his brows and letting his mouth drop open when your fingers smooth over the outline of his erection. He swallows, dropping his jeweled hand toward your mouth and extending two fingers, “Open.”
The words aren’t a suggestion, rather a demand. You comply immediately, feeling yourself grow slick as he presses the digits to your tongue with a hiss. He bites his lip, spreading them out to pet at your tongue. Raising his brows slightly in anticipation, you close your lips around them when the fingers connect once more.
Then, you hollow your cheeks and suck. Pulling out all your tricks, you lave around the digits and force your tongue between them, much to the audible pleasure of the man above you. While you work, your hands continue their torturous fluttering around the bulge at the front of his pants. Eventually your need for him on your tongue becomes too much.
Popping the button of his, you pause to tease him. Your lover growls, quickly reaching to free his girth from the confines of fabric. You try not to look too excited, wetting your lips again and swallowing around the ache of emptiness in your throat. You’ve had him time and time again but the sight of his arousal never ceases to make your own pool between your legs in answer.
He takes your hair in his fist again, coaxing you toward his lap and flicking his chin up once, “Suck.”
The command is enough to make you groan around every inch of his length, welcoming him happily into the slick warmth of your mouth. You pleasure him in earnest, running the flat of your tongue along the underside and swallowing around the head.
He keeps his grip firm in your hair, enough to control your pace. His hips roll against you slowly, working himself into your mouth as he watches from above. It only takes a few minutes before he sags against the wall, letting his forehead fall forward against his forearm, watching you intently. Your ability to turn him into a pile of bliss and your enjoyment of giving him this type of pleasure will never stop amazing him.
Gently, you let your teeth graze along his length, eliciting a hiss from him, “You love sucking cock don’t you angel?”
You whine around him, kissing at the flushed tip briefly before letting him sink his hips forward until your nose nearly presses against his abdomen. Unwilling to let such a moment overtake him and ruin his role, he pulls you off, groaning when you pout at the loss of him between your lips.
He doesn’t fail to notice the way your own fingers have slipped down to work between your spread thighs on the floor, rubbing at yourself through the fabric of your jeans.
“Get up,” he instructs, releasing your hair to curl his fingers around you wrist and pulling you up from the floor. He moves, walking backwards a few paces and letting himself fall onto a couch in the center of the small room. Something in the back of your mind tells you this is a waiting room, unimportant and ignored in the wake of your quest for pleasure. You follow obediently, standing between his spread legs. He reaches for you, bunching your sweater in his palms and yanking it from its place, neatly tucked into your jeans.
“Do you know what I want, angel?” he asks with a voice full of gravel. You’ll never get over his voice when he’s turned on or when he’s speaking lowly. The way it drops octaves and sounds deeper than his usual tenor. That’s not to say his voice isn’t always lovely, but the huskiness of your effect on him is something that never fails to raise your confidence and libido.
You shake your head at him, holding up your sweater for him with both hands while he uses just a little more force than necessary unbuttoning your jeans and yanking the denim down your thighs. You place a hand on his shoulder for balance as you step out of each leg.
He smiles, happily focused on getting you out of them as quickly as possible, before he looks up and leans toward your mouth. “I want to bury my cock in this pretty little pussy,” he says against your lips, digging his thumb into your panties suddenly, directly over your clit. Just in time to make you cry out softly, directly into his mouth. The words paint your cheeks with a hot blush, whimpering as he cups the back of your thighs in his palms and pulls you onto his lap.
“You’re soaked,” he comments, petting his index finger along the damp fabric between your legs. “I bet I don’t even need to stretch you out.” The way he purrs the words against the side of your neck is truly sinful, and every syllable sounds exactly like it is intended coming out of his filthy mouth.
Pulling you against him, he kisses you again when your hands find his shoulders, curling in the padding of his red suit jacket. He kisses you over and over, addicting, until you’re lightheaded and high on the taste of his lips and the feel of his sturdy frame beneath you.
Impatient, he pulls your sweater over your head, whipping it into a ball and throwing it to the floor. His palms slide up over your ribs, taking handfuls of your breasts and squeezing through the material of your bra. He repeats the motion with the flesh of your ass, slipping his palm beneath the hem of your panties and groaning against your throat.
He bites at the skin below your ear, earning him a gasp. The bruise he sucks into the flesh is coupled with the motion of his hands shoving your hips down against his erection. You moan in tandem as he guides your rocking motion with a handful of your rear.
“Does that feel good angel?” he rasps. You meet his sharp eyes with hooded ones of your own, nodding. He forces your back to bow, leaning into him completely. Your breath halts when you feel him take more flesh into his palm and squeeze, letting his fingers slide between your cheeks to press feather light against the hidden ring of muscle as they pass.
You meet his gaze, speaking without any actual words. You’ve both been experimenting with it, willing or wanting to try but taking it slowly and unable to get more than a full, single finger in for now.
He relents, aware that the current situation is not the best place, but not without pressing his index finger over it and rubbing gentle circles to make you shiver in his grasp. His hand moves out of your panties just to pull them down your thighs and help you kick them off.
“I really want to spank you…but we’ll have to save that for later,” he comments gruffly, biting at his own lips as he squeezes you one more time.
Then the clasp of your bra falls open and the straps are sliding down your arms. His mouth and hands replace the fabric immediately, licking and pinching at the buds of your nipples until you’re moaning. Twitching, he works you back down against his length while he kisses your breasts.
Sounds of pleasure harmonize between you at the sudden feeling of his length sliding through your folds, wet and warm. Your hips move of their own accord now, working yourself across his lap to an agreeable rhythm.
He pulls your head to meet his lips again, kissing and biting at your lips until the need for air grows too important. He watches your face as you work yourself against him, “You want it, angel?”
You nod without hesitation, lifting yourself and taking his cock in your hand. He stops you without a word. Only a sinister smile as he forces you from your perch to turn you around and spread your legs back over him facing the wall.
Caught up in the heat, you had been too preoccupied to notice the wall you face is mirrored from floor to ceiling. Your own eyes greet you in the mirror, dilated with bliss. They rake down the form of the naked woman staring back at you, admiring the purple petals of his marks blooming softly across the pink flush of your chest and neck.
A pair of intense blue eyes catch your attention from behind you, the face of your lover expressing a grin when you smile. His palms, strong and warm, attached to fingers dressed in jewels manipulate you in a manner that is rough and gentle all at once.
Slowly, he guides your hips up, holding them with both hands as he sinks you down appropriately, effectively catching the head of his cock at your center. Your lips drop open in a slack-jawed groan as you let yourself slide down inch by inch. You can feel his lips dragging against your spine, burning kisses along your skin.
He was right, much to your mutual delight, there is not much prepping to do. The way he is filling you, wet and warm is a kind of bliss you relish, basking in the pleasure while you reach up to grasp your own breast in your palm. Your eyes watch the explicit scene unfold in the mirror, feeling a little like you’re watching porn.
Your lover adjusts himself, pressing his shoulders into the couch cushions. One of his hands grasps your hip still, the other sliding up and down over your ribs. He moans once you’ve established your rhythm. He follows your speed, lifting his hips to thrust up into your heat with every bounce on his cock.
You feel heat all over your body, but most prominently on your cheeks, concentrated there in a deep rose and so turned on you feel like tears might soon spill from your eyes. He fucks you like this, drinking in every sound you make, getting louder by the second.
“Look at you,” he comments gruffly, pressing his fingertips into your skin. The sight of your joining bodies in the mirror pulls a soft hum of pleasure from his chest, “So good for me.”
His hands pull you back to lean against him, only for one to lift and cover your mouth. Both of you watch your bodies come together repeatedly in the mirror. “You’re being so loud, angel,” he says against your hair, panting. “Someone could come in at any second,” he reminds.
The idea of being caught sends a thrill straight to your core, squeezing around his thrusts. He feels it, groaning against the side of your neck. You’re sweating now, trying not to get carried away by the overwhelming surge pleasure you feel. You’ve been so on edge for him.
“Oh?” he muses, slowing the pace but slamming you against his lap harder and deeper, “Would you like that? Want someone to walk in and see you spread open for me?”
You go with it, nodding. He tuts at you, releasing your mouth to run the hand down your side. He glides it over your mound to tap at your clit with his index finger.
He's quiet for a moment, focused on the sight of you in the mirror. “What if it was one of my brothers, hm?”, he asks huskily. This time, you hesitate, but the way you swallow and your walls flutter around him tells all.
“Which one,” he growls now, circling your bud with his finger slowly while he grinds up into you. “Is it Baekhyun?”
You don’t have time to say anything, watching him question you as he fucks you through the mirror. His gaze meets yours, “Chanyeol?” he says, watching your face as your brows furrow in bliss and your lips drop open. He doesn’t relent, flicking his fingers over your clit quickly with a smirk.
He raises you completely from his cock once, landing a mild smack against your folds when you don’t answer with words. You whine at the loss of him. “Answer me,” he demands, and for a moment you fear this is a cruel joke and a line being crossed and that Junmyeon is actually upset with you.
He seems to sense your fear, immediately guiding you back over the head of his length and sweetly sliding you down until you’re seated fully on his lap again, “I think he would like that,” he sighs, turning your head to kiss your lips before he moves again. Something to let you know that he is not upset at all.
“Would you let him watch?” he rasps when you’ve resumed, and the fear has passed. You nod, whimpering at the idea of another person, let alone someone you know well, to watch you so intimately.
He chuckles beneath you, thrusting up once roughly to make you cry out, “Would you let him touch you, angel?”
You moan, closing your eyes and letting a hand drift to your clit. “What a bad girl,” he comments, replacing his own fingers on your bundle of nerves and meeting your eyes in the mirror, “Want him to get on his knees and lick your pretty little clit while I fuck you like this?”
You moan loudly, bouncing with fervor. “Use your words, angel,” he commands softly, thrusting up into you harder. From what you can see of him in the mirror, his expression mirrors yours. His chest and face are flushed red, his lips swollen and red from biting them.
“Yes,” you moan. The man beneath you groans a curse aloud. Your legs are starting to become jello, tired from exertion.
“What else? Would you want me to flip you on your knees and fuck you while you choke on his cock?” he asks, and the visual has you skyrocketing on pleasure. Your walls begin to squeeze him tighter. You pull air harder, in thick swallows as you chase the high.
Your lover moans quietly, lifting you altogether once more, pausing just briefly enough to let you get on your knees and continue. He manipulates your body to lean forward as far as you comfortably can, grasping a hip in one hand and a wrist in the other, pulled back toward his chest. The new angle hits differently, spiraling closer to orgasm the deeper he reaches.
“Would you fuck him? Let him slide his thick cock into your pussy while I fucked you here?” he groans, sliding a finger up the cleft of your ass. Your answering moan is all he wants, rewarding you with a handful of the flesh and a smack that sounds loud in the small room. You yelp at the sudden feeling and slight sting, but it doesn’t hurt at all.
He groans audibly with the motion, soothing his palm over the skin. “Or would you rather he fucked all of my come back into your abused pussy, hm?”
You gasp, finding your clit again with your own fingers. The man beneath you growls, “You only get to come on my cock... as long as everyone knows this pussy is mine.” You straighten your back, pleasure shooting up your spine when he smacks the same cheek once more.
“Fuck,” you mewl, rubbing faster while he pulls your hips back and forth at a bruising pace. His dirty talk is sending you into oblivion so quickly you can’t keep your eyes open any longer to watch the scene in the mirror. The obscene sounds of wetness between your bodies certainly doesn’t help in slowing the delirium of bliss.
“Fuck,” he mirrors your word, “You’re so close angel…” His lips find your spine again, fingertips digging into the skin of your hips to rock you against him harder.
“You’re going to take it all like a good girl…” he pants out, adjusting himself beneath you so that he can piston his own hips faster against you. He reaches up to take a handful of your left breast, tweaking the nipple between his fingers briefly until his hips falter and his pace becomes frantic.
He begins holding his breath behind you, filling his lungs with shallow bites of oxygen and humming his pleasure. This part is always your favorite, even if he disagrees. Hearing, seeing, feeling, it doesn’t matter. Experiencing him coming undone often gives you the right leverage to ride the crest of your own wave, crashing down around you only moments before he does.
You can feel the damp heat of his breath against your back, your fingers bringing you so close to your high that your legs begin shaking on either side of his thighs, “Jun…” you whimper softly, falling out of the roles.
You suck in one sharp gasp, back bowing forward and he catches you by the waist with one strong arm, gripping you to him like a vice as you ride him through your orgasm on a silent scream.
With lips planted at your shoulder, he kisses at your skin and pulls your hips down over him tightly. He releases a long moan with the breath he was holding, letting your walls pulse around him until there’s nothing left. His fingers find their way to your sensitive clit, petting just enough to feel you jolt against him once or twice. To feel you squeeze the last few drops from him with a hiss.
Spent and tired, you slowly open your eyes to find the mess of your bodies in the mirror. Your fingers clutch at his knees through the fabric of his red pants, burning beneath your palms. Behind you, your lover has an arm slung over his eyes and his exposed chest rises and falls quickly in long, deep breaths.
An uncomfortable sort of lead makes a home in the pit of your stomach. One you think showed up just before the height of your pleasure, your head aware it was hovering at the edges of thought but too charged to give its presence any attention.
You turn as best as your body can manage, looking for his eyes. Two that now make you frown, unable to see the true depth of them through the artificial color. He feels you move, lifting his arm just enough to meet your searching eyes. He gives you a dazzling smile.
And it breaks you.
A choked laugh bubbles up and rips past your lips in tandem with tears that slide down your cheeks. His arm moves from his face to yours, grunting his worry and dissatisfaction when he can’t hold you properly in this position.
Gentle palms cradle your thighs as he lifts you from his softening length, earning a whimper from you and ignoring the mess of your mutual need the action creates.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispers, wiping tears with his thumbs as he pulls you against his chest, “I’m sorry.”
An apology only makes you sob harder against him. You should be the one who is sorry, feeling the shame wash over you and stick like poisonous tar in your mouth. Shaking your head at him, you try to work words in through your tears.
“No,” you choke again, looking to the ceiling and blinking rapidly as you try to keep it in, “I’m sorry.”
When you look to him again, he softens. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong,” he clarifies.
Your arms gesture around, between your bodies wildly and to the door and the mirror and Junmyeon can’t quite understand what you’re trying to articulate until a name froths from your lips in a garbled cry.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, understanding painting his features. He smiles at you, something you don’t think you deserve.
“I’m so sorry,” you moan, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. Junmyeon rubs at your body with soothing, comforting hands. “It’s just you,” you try to continue, taking deep breaths through your tears, “I didn’t mean it.”
The way your voice shatters makes your boyfriend crush you to his chest, hastily pulling you across his lap again and tucking your legs up against his side. He wraps his arms around as much of you as he can, kissing your hair and your shoulder and your ear, everywhere his lips can reach without dislodging you from his hold.
“Y/N,” he says calmly, “Please don’t think that was a mistake.”
You don’t respond at first, continuing to let your heart lodge itself in your throat. Part of you wishes it would just suffocate you so you would not have to feel this awful or guilty.
Junmyeon stirs you from your thoughts. “I’m sorry I suggested it if it made you uncomfortable,” he clarifies.
Your glassy and red eyes snap to his, “No, please don’t be. I’m the one who…” you trail, unable to get the words out, “I feel awful.”
“Hey,” he tries, pulling your hands away from your face so he can kiss at the apples of your cheeks and your lips so you stop biting them so hard to keep in your cries. “Why?”
“I feel like I cheated,” you confess immediately through a sob. Holding the words on your tongue is nearly unbearable, you feel absolutely disgusted with yourself. You feel crazy and sick and ridiculous all at once. Your body feels hot and cold at the same time.
Junmyeon stills against you, nodding his head, “Sweetheart, no. Inviting another person into our sex life mutually is not cheating. It is certainly something worth discussing together but it is not at all even close to that. Please don’t be upset.”
You drag two large swallows of air into your lungs and breathe for a moment, “But we didn’t talk about it first, and I l-liked it.”
He smiles at you, genuinely, “It’s okay. Like I said, I brought it up. I’m okay with inviting him into the bedroom, too. Just maybe not all the time.”
“I don’t want to,” you state, shaking your head and letting your hands run the length of Junmyeon’s arms and chest, “I don’t want it to be real. I only want you,” you choke down again, clearing your throat, “I’ve only wanted you.”
The grin that spreads across his face makes him look up at the ceiling, swiping his tongue over his lips as he fights down his smile. This is a quirk of his you know means your words have made him extremely happy or he thinks you’re incredibly endearing… or both.
His reaction seems to deflate some of the tension from your shoulders, “I’m sorry I’m crazy,” you admit.
Then the smile falls, “You’re not crazy at all, and I know it’s hard for you to ignore being told you are for a long time.” He says the words without stopping, all on one breath because he knows you would try to object.
“You are a wonderful person and you’re thoughtful and considerate and not at all anything like what those people tried to make you believe,” he petitions with furrowed brows. His features smooth again with a whisper, “I’m so lucky to have you.”
The words spring new tears to your eyes and you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging his head to your chest, “Thank you.”
When you release him, he nods and pecks your lips quickly. You smile, feeling a bit sheepish and on edge still and altogether emotionally and physically drained. His fingers are gentle as he brings them to your face to wipe your slowing tears.
You place your hand over his, guiding it to your lips where you place a kiss against the skin. He looks at you fondly, softening with your affection, “Please just know I mean it. I don’t think about anyone else; I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. Just you.”
He nods, sitting up to bring your lips together in a series of kisses that soothe your soul and heal the bleeding scars left on your heart from others.
In this moment, it’s another kind of thought that creeps in slowly at the edges of your consciousness. One you’ve had in passing a few times, more frequent lately than not. Taking up larger spaces in your head and heart and getting closer and closer to whispering its name in your ear.
You don’t speak much while you clean up as best you can, both spent. There is some slight difficulty on your part with dressing because of how sore you feel. Junmyeon, ever the most considerate and thoughtful, helps you lift each leg to step into your jeans, pulling them up your hips. He places a chaste kiss squarely at your abdomen before he buttons them for you. Then pats the thickness of your rear after, eyeing the way it moves slightly with mischievous eyes.
The grin he serves you as he follows you out of the room earns him a playful flick to one of his own brown nipples, exposed by his attire. He laughs at your antics while you find your way back to his Manager.
As you’re wrapping your arms around him to say goodbye you can feel his lips at your hairline, slowly rocking you back and forth for a moment. The second you separate to stand on your toes and kiss at his lips, the creeping thought comes to sharp clarity in your mind. The sudden realization of it crashes against you ribcage like thunder.
You follow his Manager out, looking back with a silent wave and wanting to say, “I love you.”
#exo smut#junmyeon smut#suho smut#junmyeon x reader#suho x reader#exo fluff#exo angst#exo fanfiction#junmyeon fluff#junmyeon angst#suho fluff#suho angst#suho fanfic#allotrope
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A Piece of You 9
Author: xxwritemeastoryxx
Pairings: Former Elijah Mikaelson x Reader
Word Count: 4.5K
Warnings: A lot of violence towards the end. Canon typical blood and gore, a baby Mikaelson showing off his power.
Author’s Note: We’re reaching the end of this story guys. There is quite a bit that happens in this one. Thank you guys for being here with this one and the time it has taken to get it completed. I hope you guys enjoy this one.
Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥
A heavy presence of darkness hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Mikaelsons. As they stood in the courtyard downstairs, they could feel it reach them within seconds. It filled every square inch contained inside the boundaries of the spell Y/N and Freya created. The last time some of them had felt the darkness surround them as they had, the Mikaelsons had saved Y/N from her Ascension.
While they all hoped that tonight would be uneventful, there was still the possibility of an unwanted outcome. When Y/N’s cry out to Elijah reached their ears moments before, they knew. They hadn’t missed the way Y/N had run in a panic for Henrik’s room. Hearing her call out to Elijah had confirmed their worst fears. Henrik had been taken right from under their protection.
“I should have listened to my instincts.” Y/N said as she looked over at Elijah. “I knew this was going to be a bad idea.” Not once had her eyes changed back to their Y/E/C shade since she performed her spell. “I shouldn’t have brought him here. He would have been safe at the hotel. Hell, coming back to the city was a bad idea in the first place.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.” Elijah said as he watched her, unsure of how to approach her. The darkness that surrounded her was by her own doing now. The last time Elijah had seen her as she was, it was forced upon her. He had been able to work with her on controlling it. Now, he had no idea what to expect. “Henrik needed help. You believed my family would be able to provide him that.”
Y/N’s head tilted to the side as she watched him. “I believed your sister would help me. It was your idea to bring him here. ‘This will be the safest place for him.’ I believe were the words you said. Now look, Hayley had been able to slip through the cracks and my son was taken-”
“Our son.” Elijah cut her off as he took several steps towards her. “He is our son. Yes, Hayley had a part in taking him for Lucia, but do not for a moment think I won’t do everything in my power to ensure he is safely returned to us.”
A dark chuckle passed Y/N’s lips, sending a chill through Elijah that he tried to ignore. “Your power? Need I remind you that even your powers of vampirism aren’t going to be enough. Lucia intends to use him for power. Dark power that not even you would be able to stand against on your own. Your family included. Not only that but you’ll get in the way when it comes time for the wolf you just love to die.”
Elijah shook his head. He knew she was upset, and the dark magic flowing through her wasn’t making anything better. He knew that the woman standing in front of him was just being influenced by the darker parts of herself. It fed the darker thoughts that she usually kept to herself. But because Henrik had been taken from them, there was no way to stop that influence.
“You aren’t thinking straight. This isn’t you.” He said with a sigh.
Y/N closed the gap between them and looked up at him. “I’ve already told you. Without Henrik here, I have no humanity.” A smirk pulled at her lips. “Then again, you weren’t always paying attention to what I say, were you? Your attention had been elsewhere.” Before Elijah could even open his mouth, Y/N turned and walked towards the door. “Let’s go. I know where they’ll be and a plan where you’ll be able to play the hero to your son. But just know, the moment he is safe, I can promise you that you won’t be able to stop me from going after Hayley.”
______
Candlelight lit up the ruins of the centuries-old Y/L/N home. Nature had reclaimed the land in many places throughout the property, except for the one spot killed by dark magic during several Awakening and Ascensions throughout the years. It was now where Henrik found himself as his eyes began to open.
“There’s my cousin’s adorable son.” Lucia’s voice was anything but sweet as she looked over Henrik.
Henrik had begun waking up when Hayley had come into his room. At first, because of the glamour, he believed Elijah had come in to check on him. It wasn’t until he felt the familiar warning that danger was near. His hand instinctively went up to his necklace before Hayley blew a powder towards Henrik, causing him to lose consciousness.
The chuckle he heard caused him to jolt up and look around. Sitting just outside a circle, Lucia had been crouched down in front of him. His brown eyes met black ones as a grin pulled at her lips.
Henrik’s ability told-more like yelled at-him to run. There was nothing good about the woman in front of him. He wanted to run, he wanted to get as far away as possible. But Henrik knew better, the circle that surrounded him would prevent him from doing so.
“My mom and dad know you’re here.” He said as he held his head high. “They’ll come for me.”
Lucia chuckled at his words. “Oh, I’m planning on that kid. Your mom and I have some unfinished business. Plus, I’d hate for her to miss your Awakening.”
“I’m not doing it.” He said confidently as he crossed his arms over his chest. “My family will stop you before you can start.”
She rolled her eyes. “You really did take after your parents. I was really hoping some of your grandfather’s traits would have been passed down.”
“Which one?” There was curiosity in Henrik at Lucia’s words. Y/N had told him plenty of stories of his grandfathers. He understood that they were both someone Henrik wouldn’t feel safe around even though he would never meet them.
Lucia shrugged. “Why not both? My Uncle lived for the darkness. He’s the one that pushed for your mother’s Awakening. And we both know your mom would have been the coven’s leader if only she had Ascended. Such a shame that your father saved her. As for his father, he hated his own family. Hunted them for centuries. I hoped maybe, just maybe, that coldheartedness would have been passed down. Instead, you’ve got your mother’s weakness and your father’s need to believe that family is stronger together.”
“Always and Forever does have its moments.” Hayley said from behind Lucia.
A smirk pulled at Lucia’s lips as she slowly turned towards Hayley. “Right, you were a part of that little pact. And now that you’ve personally went against their back, it’s been revoked. Which reminds me. Shouldn’t you be heading home to your husband? We both know my cousin will rip into you the moment she sees you.”
Hayley looked between Lucia and Henrik. While she did feel guilty for the things she had done the last few days, Hayley knew she wouldn’t change anything. With a nod, she turned to leave. But just as she was about to step outside of the ruins, she was met with a barrier.
“What the hell?” Hayley said as she tried moving through it again.
Lucia chuckled. “Looks like she’s close by. You should have left after you dropped him off.” She turned her attention back to Henrik. “Ready for one hell of a Y/L/N Awakening?”
_____
“Let’s think about this.” Rebekah said as Y/N and the rest of her family stood not too far from the ruins. “If we all go in there at once, we wont stand a chance. She knows we’re coming. This plan of yours is too risky.”
Y/N chuckled. “Says the vampire that is immortal. This will work as long as everyone plays their part. Distractions aren’t needed. Not when I’m here to deal with Lucia.”
The Mikaelsons were still trying to get used to Y/N being so calm than any other mother would be in this situation. For as many times Hope had been in danger, Hayley was always in a frantic state until her daughter was safe. Yet here Y/N was influenced by black magic, and not once had she lost her cool.
“I’m with Rebekah on this one.” Davina said as she looked over at Y/N. “Not all of us can withstand your family. Even as a former New Orleans witch, this is some dark magic you’re about to release.”
“I trust her on this.” Elijah said with a nod. “We go in there, protect Henrik in any way possible. Y/N will handle the rest.”
“And if she fails?” Klaus asked.
“I Ascend.” Y/N said as she looked over at Klaus before looking over at Elijah. “Then you will take my son and run.”
“That wasn’t a part of the plan, Y/N.” Elijah said, shaking his head.
“There was a lot that wasn’t a part of our plans.” Y/N threw at him. “But here we are.” For a brief moment, her eyes changed back to their natural color. “Our son is in there. We have less than an hour before midnight. To hell with the plans we made if this all fails. You will take Henrik and leave if there is no other choice.”
Elijah shook his head once more, hating this plan. “And if I stop you?”
Y/N’s eyes flicked back to black. “Try it, Elijah. There are a lot of pent of emotions that I’d be willing to let out. All of us know that wouldn’t be a pretty sight for our son to see.”
The threat was enough for Elijah to nod his head. They weren’t supposed to be fighting each other. They were supposed to be working together to get their son home safely. And no matter what kind of creatures they both were, Y/N held all the power over them.
“Let’s go.” Elijah said, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s.
The others around them left just as planned. Y/N and Elijah stood their ground as they looked at each other. While Elijah would have given anything to look into her Y/E/C eyes as he did, he wanted to make sure this would work.
“Tell me what you’ll do. Just one last time, so I know you won’t change things on me.” He with a nod.
“I’ll go in, speak with my cousin.” She started. “You and everyone else will be off on the sides dealing with the rest of my family. The moment the circle is broken, you’ll go in and get Henrik.” Her eyes flickered back to normal. “Doing this, will bring in my darker side. In the process, Henrik will feel that. His instincts will change. So you need to promise me that you’ll get him out of there.”
“You have my word.” Elijah said lifting his hand to run his fingers along her cheek. “Now just promise me you’ll come back to us when this is done.”
Y/N sighed as she leaned into his touch. “We both know I want to. But if anything changes, I will Ascend without any interference.”
Elijah’s face hardened, but he nodded. “Okay.” He could see there was no changing her mind. She was the only one that could face Lucia and win. The rest of them, there was that chance that they’d lose and Henrik would be forced to Awaken. That would be when Y/N would offer an Ascension instead.
A gust of wind picked up, and Lucia was thrown back against the broken wall. A laugh passed her lips as she stood, shaking herself off from the impact. “Hello, Y/N.” She said with a smirk growing on her lips.
Y/N walked into ruins at her name. Henrik had been so relieved to see his mother. But what he hadn’t been expecting was how her eyes looked exactly like Lucia’s. It confused him for only a moment. He understood that his mother had to tap into her darker side to deal with Lucia.
Y/N’s eyes landed on Henrik, a small smile formed on her lips before her eyes flickered back to Y/E/C. “You’re safe in there, Henrik. Whatever magic happens out here, you’ll be safe from it.”
Henrik nodded his head and moved as far back as he could in the circle he was in. If his mother said he was safe, he believed that. He watched as her eyes flicked back to black before her attention turned to Lucia.
“Have I ever mentioned how much I hated these family get togethers?” Y/N said as she moved closer to Lucia. “And now you’ve brought my son to one. I think my reaction to this is quite clear and acceptable.”
“Come on, Y/N/N.” Lucia said watching her. “We both know this is what keeps the family line going. I was never able to have children after I ascended. And you, you’ve got the perfect candidate in your son for him to Awaken and Ascend when the time is right. Y/L/N and a firstborn Mikaelson, that is some power.”
“He won't be.” Y/N said as she took a step closer towards her cousin. “I made it very clear when I left the coven that I wanted nothing to do with it. Neither would my son. The only way you’d be able to get him to Awaken is to go through me and force the first line of the spell out of my lips.”
Lucia chuckled. “We both know I have more power since I’ve Ascended. You were so close to doing the same. So I look forward to getting those words to leave your lips when the time is right.”
The first wave of magic that Lucia used against Y/N hadn’t budged her. It caused a smirk to pull at her lips. “I was supposed to lead the coven. Even without Ascending, I still have more power.” Y/N fired off several spells that sent Lucia back several feet.
Standing, Lucia wiped the blood from the corner of her lips and shook her head. “I’m surprised you even let your darker side in for this.” She said as she held her hands out to the side.
Without another word between the two, different types of spells left the two witches. Some in defense, others in attempt to subdue the other. Each spell that went towards the other held more power than the last. It was a fight to ensure the other would fall in some way.
It was as Y/N pushed the blast towards Lucia did she bring her other hand up. A simple wave of her hand had the edge of the circle closest to where Elijah was supposed to be opened up. She never once looked back towards the circle. She wouldn’t be distracted in front of Lucia, it be an opening to the woman and what Y/N had just done would be for nothing.
Henrik hated the way his mom and Lucia were currently fighting. Even as Elijah grabbed hold of him, Henrik refused to go. The more the darker magic seeped into his mother, the more his ability was telling him his mother was no longer safe. He hated the feeling and there was a part of him that wanted to stop his mother from being someone he could no longer trust.
The moment Elijah noticed the circle had been opened, he was right by Henrik’s side. Henrik had been so focused on the fight before him that he hadn’t noticed that Elijah was there.
“No, we can’t leave momma.” Henrik said as he pulled his hand away from Elijah’s.
“We need to go.” Elijah said as looked down at his son, finally catching his attention. While Henrik had only looked at his dad for a moment, his eyes went back to the other two.
“I give you my word that she will not be left here. But we need to get you out of here.” Elijah said hoping his son would understand.
The pressure from the magic that surrounded them was becoming unbearable. The longer they stayed the more it would have affected anyone that was standing there with the two witches. Elijah wouldn’t let Henrik be caught in the middle of this all.
“I can help her.” Henrik said taking a step back from his father.
“No.” Elijah shook his head. “I need you safe. I will come back and get her out of here, but I will not let you put yourself in danger.”
Henrik stood his ground though. Even as Y/N cried out in pain from the spell Lucia just used on her, he refused to leave. Both him and Elijah looked over at Y/N. She stood up quickly and an orb formed in her hands before sending it over to Lucia. The orb was counteracted by Lucia’s own spell causing the orb to shatter into sparks surrounding them.
“I know a spell.” Henrik said, trying to convince Elijah. “Momma said to trust my instincts. This spell will help.”
Elijah looked from Y/N to Henrik before looking over at his siblings. Here his son was asking to help stop the fight between the two cousins with Magic. On the night of his Awakening, no less. Looking over at Freya, who nodded at his silent question.
“Okay.” Elijah nodded. “What do we need?”
Henrik grabbed his father’s hand and gave a smile. “Just your hand.”
Y/N’s hands were stretched out in front of her, a stream of magic illuminating from them. Lucia had been the same way, only her stream was a lot closer to Y/N.
Henrik began reciting the spell from memory. One that he had read about on his own, wanting to be safe just in case there was something he needed to use it for. The more he chanted the spell, the more the necklace that was around his neck began to glow.
It wasn’t long before the glow had become so bright that it even stopped Lucia and Y/N. As their eyes all turned towards the child, Y/N panicked. She knew what spell Henrik was doing. Without the proper training, this one could possibly end badly.
She took a step towards them, hoping to stop Henrik before it became too much for him. But the way Elijah’s eyes met hers and shook his head, she knew that Elijah would stop him if needed.
It was Henrik’s yell of the last line of the spell that told Y/N he had reached the end of it. The blast that came from the necklace had caused any witch in the area to fly back, Y/N, Lucia, Freya and Davina included.
Those that were not deemed ‘safe’ by Henrik had enough power course through them, frying them from the inside out. Freya and Y/N had barely felt so much as a shock after being thrown across the ruins. Lucia on the other hand, felt the power course through her at an alarming rate that caused Lucia to scream out in pain.
The moment Lucia’s lifeless body hit the ground, it released the darkness into the air. The cloud of black magic crackled with electricity from the spell. It hovered over everyone for a moment before it evaporated completely.
The spell that Henrik had done was not only a defensive spell, but it expelled anything with dark magic that Henrik deemed it to. While an Awaking called to the darkness, this spell pushed it away.
The Marks that once covered their wrists slowly faded. For if the person that sent the invitations ceased to exist, the mark was no longer needed. While Henrik could easily step with in the circle and complete the awakening, it was no longer a huge ritual the family normally made it.
Y/N, Davina, and Freya slowly stood up from where they were. Y/N was spared from the same thing Lucia had went through. It meant the darkness with in her still lingered. As she stood, the threat she had felt subsided. With it, the black veins dimmed in comparison to what they had been. It was going to take some time for them to fully subside.
A proud look formed on Elijah’s face as he tightened his hold on his son’s hand. While he had seen plenty of spells being done by witches, that was a first that he had ever seen a child as young as he had been, use that kind of Magic. Even Hope had been a few years older with some of the spells he had seen her do.
“I did it.” Henrik said with a grin on his face as he looked up at Elijah. “Lucia can’t hurt us anymore.”
“And no one will ever force you into an Awakening.” Elijah noted as he gave Henrik a smile.
A moment later their eyes landed on Y/N across the way. She had been stretching herself out from the hit she had taken. It was as their eyes landed on Y/N that they noticed the dark veins had faded and her eyes were no longer black.
A smile pulled at Elijah’s lips to know that she was okay. He was thankful that she didn’t need to force herself into an Ascension. He knew that with time, just as she had before, that the veins would completely subside the closer to her humanity she got.
Y/N took a step towards Henrik. Her eyes had been wide from the magic he had just done. There was a proud feeling surrounding her as she took in her son. But the moment she took that step, she watched as Henrik moved behind Elijah.
Everyone else had held their breath as Henrik had done so. Y/N had enough darkness in her that Henrik could sense the change in her. Y/N took a step back wanting to give Henrik his space. She of all people knew how to provide the boundaries he needed.
“Y/N,” Elijah began taking a step towards her.
Y/N placed her hand up to stop him. “I understand more than anyone else will. I have too much darkness that could potentially hurt him. I have to keep my distance while I get this under control.”
“I’m sorry, momma.” Henrik said looking out from behind Elijah.
Y/N crouched to his level, even though she had a bit of distance between them. “You have nothing to be sorry about, my love. I knew this was a possibility. We’ll get back to where we were.”
“Promise?” Henrik asked.
“I promise.” She said with a nod. “But for right now, I’m not safe around you. So that means you’ll have to stay with your dad for a bit. Just until I can get myself under control.”
“Okay.” There was a saddened tone in his words that no one missed. He knew what that would mean for the next day.
“You guys should go.” Y/N said as she stood up. “Celebrate that Henrik pretty much saved us tonight.” Her eyes landed back on Henrik. “When you wake-” Her voice cracked a bit, trying to gain control of her emotions. “You’ll have an amazing breakfast with your dad for your birthday. And I promise there will be a gift from me waiting for you.”
The siblings looked down at the ground at Y/N’s words. This would be the first birthday of Henrik’s that Y/N would miss. While the others had missed the first handful of birthdays for Henrik, the one person constantly in his life wouldn’t be there.
“And where will you go?” Elijah asked after a moment of watching her.
“The hotel.” She shrugged. “I have some cleansing spells I need to preform in order to get myself back on track. Just make sure he has a good birthday, just in case if I can’t be there tomorrow.”
“I give you my word.” Elijah said with a nod of his head before looking over at his siblings who nodded their heads as well.
Satisfied, Y/N nodded her head in return. With a flick of her wrist, she had the boundary spell removed from the ruins. She may not be able to go with them, but she knew eventually she’d be able to spend time with her son again. It took a moment for the others to move, but when they did, there was a sigh of relief from Y/N.
The moment the barrier came down, Y/N hadn’t missed the way the shadows played in the corner of her eye. She watched as Henrik walked alongside his father as he excitedly spoke about the power he felt. The sight itself had brought a smile to Y/N’s face. Her son would be free from the darkness that her life had been plagued by.
But while Henrik was safe from it, Y/N would never be free from it. It was why the moment she saw the figure move through the shadows she stopped following the others. Her Y/C/E eyes flicked to black as a smirk pulled from her lips. With a snap of her fingers, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
Hayley walked through the woods that were around her. She carefully took each step, making sure the other’s hadn’t heard her. The whole time Y/N and the Mikaelsons dealt with Lucia, Hayley had been able to make herself scarce. While Hayley knew that eventually she would need to face Elijah and Y/N on what she had done. But that didn’t have to be tonight. Or so she thought.
She looked back for a moment to take in the others leaving. But when she turned back around, Y/N stood in front of her. Her eyes were pitch black and a smirk had been placed on her face, causing Hayley to take a step back.
“Now how did I know you’d be trying to sneak away.” Y/N said as she stayed in her spot watching Hayley. “I do believe between the two of us, we have some unfinished business.”
Hayley turned to run, to at least get away from Y/N long enough for her to cool down some. But with a wave of Y/N’s hand, Hayley’s legs gave a sickening crack as she fell to the ground. The cry of pain that came from Hayley had gone unnoticed by the others thanks to Y/N’s magic.
“You don’t have to do this.” Hayley said as she clutched at her legs. Panic had been in her voice. “I get what I did was wrong. I never thought she’d hurt Henrik.”
Y/N chuckled as she crouched down next to Hayley. “I believe that last time we spoke I made it very clear you were to stay away from my son. Seeing as you didn’t,” Y/N held her hand out, slowly making a fist. It caused Hayley to grab a hold of her chest as pain filled her. “We are about to have one hell of time away from anyone that would save you.”
As Y/N’s fist closed, Hayley’s neck snapped, causing her to fall to the ground, unconscious. Y/N stood above her body, her smirk still on her face. With one more snap of her fingers, both of them were gone from sight.
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