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spookyserenades · 2 days

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Trouvaille - Chapter Eighteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 17.4.k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi everyone!!! Happy summer and OMG SEOKJIN IS COMING HOME SOON. I got another update for you all! Got your typical angst, the ghostbusting trio, some fluffyyyy toothrotting romance, and of course, the return of Sexy Yoongi ;) AH! Thank you for waiting patiently for this update, loves, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this update 💜

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter

“I suppose I did this to myself,” Y/N miserably stuck her head under the inferno-hot water pelting from her showerhead, wondering if she tried hard enough, she could drown herself. “Stupid.”

Scrubbing at her eyes furiously, she attempted to focus on bathing, watching her body wash swirl down the drain. It was useless, however, to prevent her mind from replaying the events that had unfolded immediately after Taehyung’s arrival back home. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall, picturing it all again.

“Hey Tae! You’re home!” Y/N called, the Kodiak hybrid flinching an inch into the air, her voice surprising him. He spun around, looking alarmed and like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

Y/N waved him over, only able to see his head over the SUV, and Taehyung pushed a hand through his hair, squaring his shoulders. Lifting an eyebrow, about to ask what was wrong, she felt she was plunged into an icy lake when he stepped towards her.

Taehyung, his camera bag in his hand and eyes laser-sharp, had his clothes in disarray, and purple, splotchy love bites all over his neck. Y/N couldn’t find a single word in her brain that made sense to describe how she was feeling as he stood before her, one of his hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans, which were wrinkled and pulled over his hips haphazardly.

“What are you doing out here?” Taehyung cleared his throat nonchalantly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with him. Y/N simply stared, realizing her palm was still mid-air from when she waved at him, and with a jolt, she limply dropped her arm. “You should go in. It’ll be dark soon.”

“I’m… van. Materials for tomorrow, loading them up,” Y/N answered, all choppy and like a rusty robot. “Where… were you? Did you go to the park, or…?”

Taehyung lazily assessed her, his thick eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheekbones as he glanced down at her insecure form. Clicking his tongue, he lifted his camera bag in the air, as if the answer was obvious.

“Yeah. Then I stopped at the rec center. Why?”

Y/N was proud, at the very least, that she didn’t break down after his answer, flat and distant. Deciding, out of spite and feral jealousy, that two could play at that game, and Y/N composed herself into dismissal, shrugging. If he wanted to pretend his neck didn’t look like a rabid hyena attacked it, so would she.

“No reason, just wondering. Can’t wait to see what you’ve been working so hard on these past few weeks,” Y/N chirped, and though it was cheap, she relished in the minute flinch Taehyung offered in response to her words. “I’m gonna head in now. I have a few more things to do before I go back to the Sanders’ tomorrow. Yoongi ordered Chinese food for dinner, it’s in the fridge.”

With that, Y/N flashed Taehyung a tiny smile, Taehyung’s bitten lips parting a couple of centimeters, but not saying another word as he watched her stroll towards the house, her bruised heart thundering painfully in her chest with every step.

“Stupid!” Y/N repeated, banging her forehead against the tile. “Childish bullshit.”

Y/N had icky guilt swimming around in her gut along with the greasy egg rolls she had choked down on her way to the bathroom, ignoring Yoongi’s requests for her to sit down for dinner. Taehyung really didn’t deserve her treating him so coldly just because the Kodiak hybrid had gone out on some kind of date, even if he was lying about it to her face. But when it came to him, someone who was just as allergic to confrontation and sticky conversations as she was, Y/N found that slipping into a tug-of-war of passive aggression was all too easy with Taehyung.

The water in the shower was becoming cold, Y/N cursing, switching the tap off and wrapping herself in a towel. Gut too sour to stay up any longer, she simply slid into her pajamas, promptly collapsing into bed. Distantly, she could hear Hoseok’s loud voice in the parlor, the dim murmurs of the TV, and Jeongguk stomping around his bedroom above her. The sounds were familiar and comforting, but didn’t stop her thoughts from lingering on her Kodiak hybrid. Y/N thought it was high time for her to swallow the bitter pill and perhaps confess her true feelings to Taehyung, even if he was falling for someone else. That way, at the very least, she could begin to mend one of the shattered sections of her heart.

“You look like shit. Did you get any sleep?” Jeongguk accused the next morning, Y/N bristling and not even bothering to flick him off.

After all, she hadn’t, between tangled thoughts of Taehyung and the reminder that she would have to clear the evil spirits from the Sanders’ home the following morning, she was tossing and turning all night.

“We can’t all look like rockstars 24/7,” Y/N replied sarcastically, gesturing to his typical black jeans/black graphic tee combination. That day, he was wearing a Megadeth concert tee, which Y/N found darkly fitting for the scenario they were about to find themselves in. “How are your scratches?”

“Already healed. Not even a scar. What, do you want me to take my shirt off again?”

“Don’t be a smartass today, it’ll push me right over the edge,” Y/N threatened, jabbing a finger into his solid chest, Jeongguk smirking around the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Hurry up and smoke that. Joon doesn’t like waiting.”

With that, Y/N hauled herself into the van, scowling once more at a highly amused Jeongguk, shutting the door so the smoke wouldn’t choke the life out of her and her wolf hybrid. Massaging her sore under eyes, she tripped her way to the passenger seat, smiling weakly at the fuzzy throw blanket that was already placed there for her. Namjoon, fiddling with the radio, assessed her out of the corner of his eye, his lips tugging downwards.

“Heard you didn’t sleep well,” Namjoon commented, Y/N sighing, both buckling into her seat and bundling up with the blanket. “Are you sure you’ll have enough energy to do the ritual? We can always reschedule it for Wednesday.”

“No, no, I’ll be alright. I want to get it over and done with, the family has been in that hotel room for far too long,” Y/N straightened in the seat from her original slouch, so her words seemed more convincing to her perceptive hybrid. “I told Jeongguk not to be a smartass today. The last thing we need is provoking the spirits while we try to banish them.”

“I already spoke to him about that, too. He’s going to do his own ritual, apparently, while you and I focus more on the cleansing. Is that okay with you?”

Y/N had a feeling that the plan the two of them cooked up was an attempt to get Y/N as far away from anything too dangerous as possible. With Jeongguk doing whatever it was he was planning, likely some kind of exorcism tactic he was familiar with, he’d be the one in the line of fire. Additionally, with Namjoon teaming up with her, she’d have him beside her if things started to go sideways.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I hope no one gets hurt this time,” Y/N shivered, sticking her hands close to the vents to heat the digits up. “You’re still gonna let me do some things of my own, right? To help close the portal?”

“Of course, we’re a team,” Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows, reading the vulnerability in her expression.

The van teetered back and forth when Jeongguk yanked the side door open, taking up his usual spot in the back in the booth, scrolling on his phone distractedly. Y/N watched, over her shoulder, him prod along the base of his antlers, one of his eyes twitching as he caught on a tender spot, teeth biting down on his lip ring. She was going to ask if something was wrong, but decided against it when he recovered smoothly, digging through the gear back he packed.

The first fifteen minutes of the drive were peaceful, Y/N humming along to the radio. However, a fleeting thought had her squeaking loudly, startling Namjoon beside her and making him sharply step on the brakes.

“What?!” His eyes were wide, silver ears pressed to his skull, Y/N fumbling for her tote bag.

“I forgot to give you guys your first paycheck! Judy says you two can be official employees at the shop, if you want, and you’ll get paid for all of our consultations, investigations, and cleansings,” Y/N stuck Namjoon’s check in the visor above his head, twisting her torso so she could send Jeongguk’s sailing his way, the elk hybrid catching it with a stunned look on his face.

“Next time, wait until we’re parked, kiddo. The wolf almost drove off the road,” Jeongguk scolded, though he hastily tore open his envelope to check out how much he had been paid for his labor.

“Sorry. I’m just excited! Do you two want to start coming to work with me regularly? I can try and move my hours around to accommodate your book club hours on Mondays, Joon,” Y/N felt more bright than she had in hours, a faint dimple appearing in Namjoon’s cheek as he tried to squash down his excitement. “I could do Tuesday through Thursday, and then whenever we’re needed for consults.”

“Are you sure you can change your work days? I could just come in with you on Wednesdays and Thursdays,” Namjoon appeared sheepish, eyes glued to the road and his tail swishing over the side of his seat.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Judy really likes you two, I’m sure if it meant you being there three times a week, she wouldn’t have a problem coming in on Mondays to cover my previous shift.”

Namjoon quieted down after that, his cheeks coloring all the way to the hoops threaded through his earlobes, Y/N grinning at him and noting Jeongguk’s silence as well.

“Jeongguk, you can just do the consults if you want. You don’t have to stock shelves with us if you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I’ll come. Got nothing better to do,” Jeongguk quickly replied, caught off guard as he set his first paycheck– a pretty generous one, at that– aside. Humming in satisfaction, Y/N squirmed in her seat, getting comfortable so she could center herself for the remainder of the ride to the Sanders’.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open as soon as she sensed Namjoon pulling into the driveway. Y/N wasn’t surprised that she knew, without a doubt, that they had arrived; her ability to feel and distinguish energies had been becoming stronger by the day. Mercifully, it was fairly sunny that day, so even if the house was surrounded by a subtle darkness, at least the sky wasn’t filled with oppressive clouds.

“Ready?” Y/N fixed her gaze on the front door, determination flooding through her when she remembered Tommy’s terrified and exhausted expression, the shadows curling around Namjoon, and the three bleeding scratches tearing into Jeongguk’s back.

“Remember. Don’t use names, don’t address any of the entities specifically,” Namjoon recapped seriously, catching the Zippo lighter Jeongguk tossed him mid-air, likely for the plethora of candles located in the bag the wolf hybrid was holding in his free hand. “Got the stuff from the church?”

“Church?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, looking from him to Jeongguk with great curiosity.

“Yeah, the one in the town square, the Catholic church. We went there for some items the day we went out to replace the camera,” Jeongguk shook his gear bag in front of Y/N’s face, a playful look in his eyes. “Holy water, blessed salt, medallions and whatnot. We’re marrying the Christians to the Pagans today.”

“Ah, I see…”

“Think of it this way,” Jeongguk cut her off, surprising her by placing a tattooed hand on her shoulder heavily. “Whatever I can’t get rid of with the stuff from the church will probably respond to your practice. Right?”

“Right,” was all Y/N could say, trying to savor the elk hybrid soothing her, his fingers squeezing over her shoulder once before letting her go and pulling the van’s side door open. “Be safe, okay, sweets?”

“Mm-hmm. You too,” he smirked confidently, leaping out of the vehicle and heading straight for the front door of the house.

“We’re gonna start outside,” Y/N blinked once Jeongguk disappeared into the house, turning her attention to Namjoon. “Then when we’re inside, we’ll start at the top floor, go to the basement, and end with the ground floor– it confuses the spirits, gets them out faster.”

“Lead the way,” Namjoon inelegantly stumbled out of the van, the clumsiness of the action making Y/N giggle, breaking up the tension that she was feeling. “Ouch.”

“Uh-oh, are you okay?” Y/N sobered up a tad, Namjoon’s ears drooped as he used his free hand to massage his elbow. “Break a bone?”

“I’m sturdier than you give me credit for,” Namjoon muttered, a cute pout tugging at his lower lip. “Want me to place these candles somewhere?”

“No, they’re for inside,” Y/N shook her head, feeling Namjoon follow her to the window where ‘The Watcher’ usually lingered, frowning at the cloudy glass. “All I wanna do out here is bury the spell jars I made in the four corners of the yard and make a boundary with the incense and herb bundles.”

“I can bury the jars,” Namjoon volunteered helpfully, stopping Y/N mid-stride by grabbing her wrist, diving his fingers into her tote bag for the glass bottles. “But stay close to me while you burn the herbs. Promise?”

“Okay, Bug,” Y/N held out her pinky finger, the wolf hybrid staring at the digit quizzically. Snorting, she reached for Namjoon’s hand, linking her pinky with his, loving that she was the first person to show him how to pinky promise. “I promise!”

True to her word, Y/N stuck closely to Namjoon– not just because she wasn’t a promise-breaker, but because Namjoon’s intimidating height and mass made her feel safer the closer she was to him. Focusing, she used Jeongguk’s lighter to spark up the bundle of herbs, inhaling the scent of burning rosemary, sage, and cedar. The two of them worked silently and with purpose, making a slow counterclockwise circle around the property, Y/N shivering as she felt energy push past her and outside of the boundary her and Namjoon were creating.

She knew Namjoon could feel what she did as well, with his ears twitching and an occasional sideways glance to her while she fanned smoke around the yard. In stark contrast to the last time she was at the Sanders’ home, Y/N felt confident and sure of herself.

Though almost all of her focus was on the cleansing, she couldn’t help but think of how Jeongguk was faring inside. Her and Namjoon completed their circle around the yard, ending up back at the window, and Y/N felt a significant change in the energy– she could no longer sense the ickiness of something ancient watching her, but she spent a few more moments waving smoke around the glass pane anyways, Namjoon waiting patiently beside her.

“Let’s go inside. We’re done out here,” Y/N murmured quietly, in the zone. The wolf hybrid, once again, held her hand while she climbed up the slick, wet concrete porch, though Y/N wondered if the reason he tended to do that was because he himself was quite clumsy and needed the reassurance of stability. Either way, it was endearing.

As she pushed open the door, the first thing Y/N noticed was the line of salt sprinkled along the threshold. Because it was still early morning, the house was full of blue light, and didn’t seem as scary as it had when they conducted the night time investigations. Namjoon knew exactly what to do already; so he started straight for the staircase, Y/N swallowing and shadowing him, ears picking up the sound of Jeongguk’s heavy combat boots stomping around up there.

Y/N didn’t have to tell Namjoon how to set up the candles, as they had gone over that part of the ritual at length previously. She simply lit another bundle of herbs in Ms. Sanders’ room, making sure she got every square inch of the bedroom. It appeared that Jeongguk had already tackled that room; salt on the windowsills, medallions placed in various locations, and the odd wet patch on the floor that Y/N suspected was sprinkled holy water.

“Feels good in here,” Y/N commented to Namjoon, though admittedly, she was already getting worried about the two children’s rooms. “Time to move on?”

Namjoon nodded, letting the candle he set on Ms. Sanders’ dresser melt down completely. Glued to him, they met Jeongguk in Tommy’s room, where he was chucking holy water into the open closet, his ruby rosary clutched in his other fist. Softly, he was mumbling something in Latin, Y/N relieved that he seemed to be just fine. As directed, Namjoon placed a candle within the closet, crouching on the floor and watching Y/N thoroughly fill the area with herbal smoke, the heaviness of the room easing up second by second.

Between her silent prayers and Jeongguk’s audible ones, the trio was in Tommy’s room for about twenty minutes before Y/N could breathe easy for the first time in the space, the sun shining more brightly through the windows, and Jeongguk’s constant prayer paused, chewing on his lip ring contemplatively.

“Is it…?”

“Closed,” Jeongguk answered Namjoon resolutely, wiping sweat from his brow. Y/N agreed with him, the closet felt perfectly normal after their combined efforts, so she shut the cracked window in the room to seal the boundaries in place. “The portal’s dormant. All that’s left is making sure we push the rest of the entities out and I think the family can come back safely.”

Without thinking about it, Y/N had a fistful of the back of Jeongguk’s tee-shirt when they finally entered Julie’s room, just in case the entity in there decided to harm him again. The elk hybrid didn’t seem to notice, simply resuming his Latin monologue and chucking holy water at the walls. Gently, Namjoon took the herb bundle from Y/N, taking up the task of filling the room with the cleansing smoke while she clung to Jeongguk.

She had practiced over the past few days extending her protective shield to others, in a way that wouldn’t completely zap her of her energy and cause her nose to bleed, so Y/N took a deep breath, Jeongguk keeping her tethered to earth as she imagined the shield around the three of them. With her eyes closed, she could hear the tiny intake of breath Namjoon made from across the room– Y/N wondering if he could sense what she was doing– but Jeongguk didn’t even flinch, dutifully focusing on making a line of blessed salt along each windowsill while Y/N held onto him.

To the great surprise of all three of them, there wasn’t an aggressive, angry demon that came flying through the room to try and stop their efforts, so as the minutes ticked by and all that could be heard was Jeongguk’s prayer, Y/N let go of his shirt carefully. Y/N didn’t want to entertain the thought that things seemed too easy, so she pushed the thought out of her mind, and instead, she helped Namjoon wrap things up with the smoke cleansing and candle lighting on the ground floor.

“These candles can be lit while no one’s here, right?” Jeongguk leaned against the wall in the kitchen, where she and Namjoon were finishing their tasks.

“They’ll be out before we leave. They’re just tealights,” Y/N stubbed out the herb bundle she was holding onto, taking in a lungful of sweet-perfumed air. The Sanders’ house felt like an entirely different home; airy, bright, and Y/N could hear early spring birds chirping under the window that a malevolent energy used to haunt. “I just want to make sure all the windows are shut before we leave, do one last walk-through… but your plan seemed to work really well. Who would have thought that Pagan and Christian practices mesh so well?” “You’ll soon realize I’m almost always right about these sorts of things, kiddo,” Jeongguk smacked a fresh pack of Marlboros against his wrist bone, pulling a cigarette out of the carton with a smirk.

“Okay, don’t get cocky,” Y/N grouched, shouldering by him and rolling her eyes at his smoky chuckles, breezing through the house for her final walk-through. “Don’t smoke in here, please.”

“No shit,” Jeongguk called after her, watching her figure disappear up the stairs. “Nothing went wrong?”

The second half of his statement was directed at Namjoon, who was packing away spare materials into Y/N’s tote bag on the kitchen counter, the wolf hybrid’s bitten ear flickering with annoyance.

“You’d know if something did,” Namjoon replied simply, slinging her bag over his shoulder, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice. “Start the van while you’re outside.”

Jeongguk distractedly shook the keys to the vehicle in his free hand, already striding towards the front door, Namjoon shaking his head at the elk hybrid’s nonchalance. He himself, however, couldn’t believe how successful the three of them had been, and a strange emotion Namjoon couldn’t tag a name to welled up inside of him when he looked around the house.

Namjoon might have not had the same kind of ability to sense energies in the way Y/N could, but there was a marked difference to how he was able to move around the house, breathe a little more freely, and the primal– still very new– instinct to protect Y/N from some kind of unseen threat eased up the on the chokehold it had on him. Even then, when he was more than confident that they had banished all of the negativity, he found himself hanging back in the living room, listening to Y/N’s light footsteps from above, waiting for her to come back down and join him outside.

“Joonie?” Y/N’s voice floated down from the stairs as she hopped down them, surprised to see him waiting before her eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Do you think it’s okay I said your name?”

Namjoon blinked, watching her chew her lips and glance at Jeongguk outside, in the distance smoking his cigarette by the van. Namjoon didn’t know when he had gotten so used to the handful of nicknames that Y/N had for him, and was shocked that after only two hours of her not uttering one of them, he realized how much he liked that quirk of hers.

“I think it’s alright, now,” Namjoon recovered, shaking away the bizarre emotions he was feeling. While he was interested in the unexplained, that didn’t necessarily mean he enjoyed unexplainable things happening to himself. Y/N’s mouth opened, but it was her growling stomach that interrupted her words, heat flooding her cheeks. “Want to stop for some lunch before we go home? There was a ‘hot pot’ place on the way here I saw you eyeing.”

“I’m either deeply unsubtle, or your perception is on another level. Weren’t you driving?” Y/N accused, making her way to him with a shy grin.

“It’s a mixture of both,” Namjoon confessed, refusing to hand over her tote bag while she opened up the front door and locked it for the final time. “What is hot pot, though?”

“Oh! You get to pick out a broth, and then all of the noodles, vegetables, and meats you want, then you cook it right at your table! I think you’ll like it, you really wanna go?”

Namjoon nodded, waving smoke out of his face from Jeongguk’s still-burning cigarette.

“Yeah, we need to eat,” Jeongguk pried into the conversation, his fingers dancing around the base of his antlers again. “That shit will suck the life out of you.”

Once in the van, Y/N felt loopy satisfaction, sending a text to Ms. Sanders while Namjoon drove to the hot pot restaurant.

Y/N: We just finished the cleansing, with great success! You and the kids should be able to move back in now, and please contact me anytime you need, we’ll be there for you.

Sighing, Y/N glanced at Namjoon, a faint dimple in his cheek that told her he was quite pleased with how things turned out, her heart squeezing in her chest as she poked his sweater-clad bicep– his bushy tail wagging in consequence.

“I’m proud of you two. I’m happy we’re a team,” Y/N admitted seriously, Namjoon clearing his throat nervously at the praise. And when Y/N peeked at Jeongguk, he wasn’t rolling his eyes, he was actually smiling at her, teeth and all, even if there was a glint of teasing mischief across his features.

“I hope you can handle spicy food. I’m getting the Sichuan broth,” Jeongguk announced, neither of the hybrids acknowledging her praise, but Y/N knew that they appreciated it based on their facial expressions. “And I’m not going to share my order of pork belly.”

“As long as you don’t hog the dipping sauces, we won’t have a problem,” Y/N snorted, relaxing back into her seat, looking forward to sharing a triumphant meal with the two of them.

“Ugh, I’m bored,” Y/N complained to the ceiling, slouching on the stool at work with absolutely nothing to do, and nobody to talk to.

Namjoon and Jeongguk were unable to join her at work until the following week, when their paperwork allowing them to be legally employed went through, so she was alone in the dead metaphysical shop. Additionally, she pouted about going home after her shift– all of her hybrids were so busy lately, it was rare that she had quality time with all seven of them at once.

In the two days that followed the cleansing, a whirlwind of events happened all at once. Hoseok had indeed taken up employment at the rec center coaching the junior track team, and spent several hours there organizing things for the spring season and getting acclimated with his upcoming responsibilities. Besides him, Yoongi actually decided to take up coaching part-time as well, even after all of his insistence that he didn’t necessarily want to, so he was gone just as frequently as Hoseok.

Jimin was often occupied outside preparing the garden beds for fast-approaching spring, exercising horses, or tending to the grounds, and while Y/N helped as often as she could, there were only so many hours she could take digging in the frigid dirt and dodging chickens nipping at her heels after a day at work. As for Namjoon and Jeongguk; the two of them were predictably busy with their own hobbies, the wolf hybrid catching up on the book club assignments he was behind on, and Jeongguk obsessively watching videos about paranormal equipment. That left her with Seokjin, who she spent most of her time with, and Taehyung, who was either hardly at home or avoiding her like a poisonous spider.

Sighing, Y/N twirled a pen between her finger tips. With the house cleansing out of the way, she had no more excuses to try and avoid patching things up with Taehyung, or at the very least, attempt to have some kind of productive conversation with him. It broke her heart that it seemed that the home Taehyung had grown to truly love wasn’t something he found comfort in at the moment, so it was her main priority to swallow her pride and restore things to normalcy.

She thought back to the early winter, prior to Christmas, when Taehyung was his happiest. Getting into his photography, sharing his work with her and the others at the expos, hanging out with her and Yoongi in the music room on Fridays while they had their piano lessons and he would listen to records on the floor. Frowning, she reached for the Kodiak Hybrids for Dummies she brought along with her for the post-lunch lull she was enduring, which she had been using the past few weeks to try and glean anything enlightening about his behavior.

Y/N tried to read a chapter of each guidebook simultaneously, so she was finishing up the last few pages of the eighth chapter– one on dietary preferences– for Kodiak hybrids before she’d move onto the next for not just that one, but the six others, as well. The chapters on various diets were entertaining, for sure, but Y/N realized that her boys pretty much ate whatever was in front of them, regardless of the ‘preferences’ listed in the guide books. For instance, elk hybrids allegedly favored fresh, light, vegetable based foods; but Jeongguk was one of the biggest meat eaters in the house. She hadn’t noticed Taehyung having a particular, all-consuming craving for salmon, either, so if anything, the chapter was plainly useless.

Yawning while turning the page, she choked on her own spit when she read what the next chapter was so boldly titled: Mating, Heats, Ruts. Immediately beginning to sweat, much like how she did when she found out what scenting was, she scanned the front windows of the shop, making sure no one was strolling towards the entrance to browse for spell candles.

“What on god’s green planet are heats and ruts?” Y/N panicked, though truthfully, thanks to her past as a vet, she knew exactly what they were in the animal kingdom. She had a nervous feeling that they weren’t so different in the hybrid world, either. “Oh Jesus…”

Hastily, she blew past the chapter title page, hesitantly beginning to read and forgetting all about ‘balanced diets for your hybrid’. For the thousandth time, and likely not the last, she was faced with new information about hybrids she probably should have already known by then.

Mating: Some hybrids will find what they will consider to be their ‘mate’ within their lifetimes. Depending on species, these hybrids will mate ‘for life’ more often than not. The instinct to mate is triggered by the hybrid seeing another as their ideal counterpart. Like their fully animal counterparts, the purpose of ‘mateship’ is for reproduction, but because hybrids are human as well, love and romance is another consideration that the hybrid will factor in when selecting their mate. It is debated whether or not hybrids have control over choosing a mate, some experts claim that is entirely instinct-based, others believe that the hybrid will select a mate once they deem their selection worthy.

For Kodiak hybrids, specifically: the species is known to be serially monogamous, meaning that unless they chose a mate that they intend to stay with for life, they will select a different partner to spend their heats/ruts with each cycle. For those who have mated, jealousy can be a very big issue when it comes to their mate.

Heats/Ruts: Hybrids, when they reach sexual maturity around the age of eighteen, will develop seasonal heats/ruts; the season during the year at which the cycle will happen depends on the species. Typically, heats/ruts can be handled alone by ‘unmated’ hybrids by the hybrid themselves, and will often seclude themselves from their adoptive guardians. Other hybrids seek out a partner to help them through this cycle to ease discomfort, but it is species dependent, as well as dependent on the hybrid’s personality and temperament.

There have often been many cases where a hybrid will not experience an intense heat/rut until they feel comfortable in their environment, but this behavior is seen in exotic hybrids or ones with skittish/distrustful personalities.

As for hybrids that have selected a mate, their heats/ruts will be unbearably uncomfortable and cannot be handled by the hybrid alone. The mated hybrid will feel excruciating pain and discomfort if unable to complete their heat/rut without their mate, and can be threatening to the hybrid’s health and wellbeing. It is important for adoptive guardians who may have a mated pair of hybrids to give them the space to work through the cycle.

Heats/ruts typically last 2-3 days at their height, but days leading up to and after the cycle can leave the hybrid sensitive as well. For more information on how to make your hybrid comfortable during their cycles, refer to page 809.

Kodiak hybrids typically experience their heats/ruts during May-June.

Y/N’s mouth was dropped open and rather dry, reading the pages frantically three times over. Warmth flushed her from head to toe, not exactly surprised none of the boys brought up that aspect of their natures– and it wasn’t like she ever asked. Although she was surprised, and just a touch annoyed, Yoongi at the very least never said anything to her. Fanning herself, she pulled up multiple tabs on her phone, scribbling a messy note on an old receipt.

Seokjin/Yoongi: Ruts any time of year. Lasts between 4-5 days

Hoseok: December-early spring. Usually monogamous. 3-4 days

Namjoon: Mid spring- early summer, but also for two weeks in the second half of winter. Monogamous, mate for life. 4-5 days (excluding the winter rut)

Jimin: Winter. Strictly monogamous. 3-4 days

Taehyung: May-June, serially monogamous. Rut can last anywhere from two days to two weeks

Jeongguk: August-early winter. “Courtship” is important. Rut can last days on and off, sometimes for up to several weeks depending on hybrid.

Y/N was boiling hot all over once she finished jotting down her notes, overwhelmed and embarrassed. Before she could get ahead of herself, or even ashamed that she didn’t know about these specific things about the boys, she crumpled up the sticky note and shoved it deep into her tote bag. She had stressed early on to each of them to tell her if they were ever uncomfortable or needed something, so she concluded (shakily) that since none of them brought up their ruts, maybe they hadn’t experienced them full-force yet. Greedily chugging water from the bottle Yoongi packed her, she narrowed her eyes at the picture of him she stuck to her work computer monitor, swearing to back him into a corner and get him to spill.

Trying to think about literally anything else than her hybrids and their ruts, she pushed the Kodiak Hybrids for Dummies aside and returned to what she was working on for Yoongi’s birthday. The hand-written symbols on the page, ones that were once unfamiliar to her, became a form of artistic expression thanks to her leopard hybrid, and had been erased and rewritten dozens of times by then. Y/N knew she was a perfectionist, but her dissatisfaction with herself had never been so frustrating. Both envying and admiring Yoongi’s raw natural talent, she scanned the page of sheet music, filled with notes she was trying to arrange into a pretty composition of her own.

There was, of course, the struggle of picking a suitable name for the piece as well. There was a list of titles she was playing with, but none fit the vision she had for the composition exactly. Humming, she erased a section of the very last measure, deciding to end the song more gently than she originally planned. Minutes ticked away at lightning-speed while she wrote and rewrote notes, and before she knew it, her shift was up and not a soul came into the shop to disrupt her process.

By then, she supposed she had to be satisfied with the piece; Yoongi’s birthday was the next day. There would be time for her to practice during the day, as she had taken it off from work to celebrate, Yoongi would be spending half of his birthday at the rec center setting up things for the junior basketball team’s spring season. Hastily scooping up all of her books, she locked up the shop, wondering who would be waiting for her at home.

“Hello?” Y/N fumbled for her phone buzzing away in her pocket, simultaneously stumbling into her car.

“Y/N! Christ, what are you, in a tunnel or something?” Ben responded immediately, making Y/N snort.

“No, I’m getting in my car. Just locked up the shop. Can you hear me now?” Adjusting her grip on her phone, she realized she was covering the microphone with her scarf. “How are things?”

“Good, it’s getting warmer finally, huh?”

“Not warm enough. Hoseok is killing me complaining about the cold all the time. Seokjin might hate it more, but he doesn’t complain nearly as much!”

“That fox is a character. Everyone’s doing well, though? How about the new jobs you told me some of them are getting?”

“It’s only day two, but I think the three that picked up work at the rec center are enjoying it. I miss them though…” Y/N pouted, Ben chuckling through the receiver. “Namjoon and Jeongguk are going to start coming to Judy’s with me next week. And Yoongi’s birthday is tomorrow, so I’m excited for that!”

“Big plans?”

“Mmm… maybe not by your standards. Something that suits him, though. I’m taking him out on a date.”

“Romantic. He’ll love it, I’m sure,” Ben agreed with her. “Then again, you could get him a frying pan and he’d treat it like a diamond.”

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, embarrassed. “So, I read something interesting today about hybrids.”

“This ought to be good. What did you find out this time that was obvious to all but you?” Ben teased, Y/N sticking her tongue out at him even though he couldn’t see.

“Okay, Mr. Wonderful. I learned about mating and ruts. I didn’t realize that was a thing for them,” Y/N snapped, Ben dissolving into thick laughter, which irked her further. “What?!”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I can just picture the fucking look on your face reading that in one of those guidebooks you are hoarding,” Ben took a breath, Y/N similarly imagining how red in the face he was getting from laughing at her. “Any comments?”

“Well, yeah. Why the fuck haven’t any of them brought it up?”

“Do you discuss your menstruation or ovulation with them? Why would they, Y/N? It’s kind of a personal thing.”

Y/N flinched, once again struck by Ben’s ability to cut to the chase when she was being a little ridiculous.

“Fair, I suppose,” Y/N squeaked. “I mean, I thought the scenting was a tricky subject to breach.”

“Well, if you’re curious about it, you could always just ask Yoongi or Seokjin, if you’re feeling especially bold,” Ben said, with a teasing lilt. Y/N was a touch mortified. “They love you, they’re not going to shy away from that conversation. I’d avoid bringing it up to that elk hybrid of yours, I think he’d make fun of you more than I am.”

“Another valid point,” Y/N muttered, not wanting to give Jeongguk another round of ammunition to amuse himself with at her expense. “Whatever. Whatever! Maybe I’ll ask Yoongi or Seokjin, or maybe I’ll just wait until they bring it up. I feel like I’ve got bigger fish to fry at the present.”

“I’m sure. You got hybrids, ghosts, and romantic feelings for all of your housemates. You’d make millions on reality TV.”

“Thanks, Ben. Remind me to drop your call next time.”

“See you at brunch on Sunday!” Ben signed off cheerfully, Y/N rolling her eyes and throwing her car in drive.

A slightly-cloudy sky peeked through the windows of the house the day of Yoongi’s birthday. Y/N had shown him, as well as Hoseok, off that morning, the two of them bound for the rec center. The fox hybrid was trying to get Yoongi to wear a pointy birthday hat that was leftover from his birthday, but Yoongi scrambled towards the car before Hoseok could slap it on his head.

Y/N had only a few hours to practice her new composition before Yoongi would be back and they’d head out for the dinner reservation she made, so after downing some coffee while staring at Jimin cutting down some dead saplings in the backyard, she made her way to the music room. Feeling somewhat stealthy with the sheet music tucked under her arm, she passed by Seokjin’s room, the pipes in the wall clanging together telling her he was probably bathing.

The feeling of sitting at the piano bench without Yoongi beside her had Y/N frowning. She had grown ever so attached to his warmth and presence, his gentle, reassuring guidance while she’d play. Huffing, she placed her sheet music on the stand, rolling her wrists like Yoongi would, and began to practice.

For her first composition, it wasn’t half bad. It was nowhere on the level of what Yoongi could come up with, but he had years of composing on her, so Y/N tried not to compare herself to him too harshly. Once again, she changed the ending of the song with her lip tucked between her teeth, worried that she might not ever get it right– on top of that, she still hadn’t picked a name for the piece and she was running out of time.

She was in the middle of playing through the song a sixth time when she was interrupted by the jiggling of the music room’s handle. Before sitting down at the piano, Y/N hadn’t locked the door just in case someone wanted to come and find her, so with minor embarrassment, she halted her playing, glancing at the door expectantly. When the door swung open, she held her breath, recognizing the curly head of black hair right away, a shard of ice piercing through her heart.

Taehyung’s steps into the room faltered, headphones askew on top of his head, as soon as he caught scent of her and realized he wasn’t alone. Beautiful eyes going round, his rounded ears flattened while a feral rumble of shock rolled through his chest, going quite still. Gawking at each other, Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, eyes shifting from her to the collection of CD’s on the shelf. Fingers frozen over the ivory keys of the piano, she watched the Kodiak hybrid inch towards the shelf with urgency, probably trying to get the hell out of dodge. Y/N’s body moved before her mind did, launching her off the bench and across the room.

“Tae, hi,” she blurted, knowing that he could hear her with his Kodiak set of ears, the rounded brown appendages fluttering with the sound of her voice, a Nirvana CD clumsily slipping out of his grasp and clattering to the floor. “Whatcha up to? I didn’t know you were home.”

Taehyung, moving like he was stuck in molasses, slid the headphones off of his ears to hang loosely around his neck, facing Y/N fully. Quickly, she ducked down, scooping the CD off the floor and offering it to him with a friendly expression. Her heart was pounding, ready to bite the bullet and have a real conversation with him no matter what it took. Taehyung’s shoulders relaxed downwards a few inches, his sweater slipping over his wrist as he took the CD, switching off the device he had clipped to his jeans.

“They didn’t need me at the rec center today,” was his response, swallowing. “I just decided to stay here… I thought you had work on Thursdays.”

“I usually do, but I took today off!” Y/N watched Taehyung nod, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. With the direction of the conversation already, Y/N was feeling queasy; and with the way that he kept glancing at her chest, she could tell he could hear her heart threatening to burst into pieces. “Uh… come here, look! I wanted to show you some pictures I took this week around the shop. The town square looks so pretty right now, the grass is just starting to get green!”

Y/N thought on her feet, grasping for Taehyung’s wrist, which he let her take as well as tow him to the leather loveseat, apparently too stunned to protest. There was electricity zapping through the hand wrapped around his sweater-clad wrist, and considering she hadn’t touched Taehyung in so long, it had her emotions kicking into overdrive.

“Y/N…”

“Sit here, please? I’ve wanted to show you for a little while. It won’t take long!” Y/N hoped her tone wasn’t dripping with utter desperation, but something flickered in Taehyung’s carmine eyes, softening them, so he heeded her request and sat beside her stiffly.

Squirming in satisfaction– the small victory boosting her confidence somewhat– she flicked through her phone, still holding onto Taehyung all the while. Finding the folder of amateurish shots of around her workplace, she placed her phone in Taehyung’s limp, open palm, the Kodiak hybrid’s sharp canines biting down on his lower lip.

“Do you want me to do a shoot here?” Taehyung asked with confusion, his deep voice making her shiver imperceptibly.

Y/N peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, chest squeezing painfully at the sight of his gorgeous face, entirely focused on the pictures he was scrolling through. Dropping her gaze, she briefly glanced at his neck, the bruises she saw there days ago long since faded. However, the memory in her mind’s eye remained, drying up her mouth.

“Would you want to? I can take you there soon, the cherry blossoms in the courtyard will bloom in the next few weeks,” Y/N prayed they were moving a step forward, Taehyung humming lowly, continuing to scroll through her camera roll. Y/N had nothing to hide, so she let him, hoping to continue chit-chatting.

“Yeah, maybe when the flowers bloom, then. For the spring expo.”

“Sounds like a plan, Tae,” Y/N hesitantly leaned her shoulder into his, her hip colliding with the CD player strapped to his belt. “Ooh, any music recommendations for me lately?”

Taehyung’s chest rumbled again, the sound animalistic and raw, and Y/N wasn’t used to hearing it so often those days. Resisting the desire to tuck some of his curls behind his ear, Y/N waited for a reply, Taehyung avoiding eye-contact by examining the pictures on her screen.

“I’ve just been listening to grunge, like always. Someone showed me an artist named Mac Demarco recently, which you might like.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of him. An indie artist, right?” Y/N wondered who exactly showed him new music, itchy jealousy crawling all over her skin.

Taehyung didn’t answer, his thumb stilling over the touchscreen of her phone, intensely staring at the picture he paused on. Curious, Y/N peered over his shoulder to see what captured his attention so thoroughly, a tiny squeak leaving her mouth at what she saw. Taehyung had scrolled so far through her camera roll that he reached the mirror selfies she had taken the night of Hoseok’s birthday, after she finished her makeup and shimmied into her dress.

Originally, she sent the pictures to the Santos twins, but she never intended for other eyes to see her so scandalously posing in front of her bathroom mirror, so she was definitely mortified that Taehyung was gawking at them, Y/N clearing her throat sharply. Taehyung wasn’t broken out of his trance until she repeated his name several times, her phone clattering to his lap as his eyes focused on her again, his irises dark and predatory.

“Taehyung, um. I wanted to talk to you. Last weekend, when you came home from the rec center… I was short with you. I’m sorry,” Y/N’s palms were sweating, Taehyung’s expression surprisingly not wiping blank like she expected it to. “I hope I didn’t imply that you need to tell me where you are at all times, or felt like I was coming down on you or upset with you.”

“I– um, I didn’t think that,” Taehyung’s voice was rough, the corners of his mouth turning down as he angled his body towards her.

“Oh, okay. Again, I just wanna stress, you don’t have to ask me for permission to go where you want, alright? I miss you, though, Tae.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, his eyes darting around the room like he was trying to find a response written on the wallpaper, bouncing his thigh up and down.

“Miss you too,” Taehyung admitted quietly, winding the hem of his sweater around his finger tips. “A lot.”

Y/N’s eyes began to sting, the raw vulnerability coming off of him in that moment tangible and heavy. His words were profound to her, and if anything, it gave her courage. Not knowing if she’d ever be brave enough again to hurtle off the edge of no return, she reached for Taehyung’s hand, tracing a thumb over the vintage silver ring on his index finger; this time, Taehyung was the one to shiver.

“Uh, so Tae. Hm. You know…”

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Taehyung’s phone was ringing in his pocket, but he promptly ignored it, so Y/N scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment, attempting to continue when the buzzing stopped.

“Right. So, you know I really care about you–”

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Grimacing, Taehyung dove his free hand into his pocket when it began to go off again, sending the call to voicemail blindly, Y/N losing confidence by the second.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just wanted to tell you I really care for you, and we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately, but I need you to know–” Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. “Why don’t you get that? It seems like it might be important.” Y/N swallowed down the last of her declaration: I need you to know I love you.

Ticked, Taehyung dug his phone out of his pocket, Y/N catching the caller ID before he picked up. Someone named ‘Diana’ was eagerly trying to reach him, ice water being dumped over Y/N’s flame, her heart stopping dead in her chest when Taehyung let go of her hand and answered the phone.

“Di, what’s up?” Taehyung held a finger up to Y/N, jaw tense, Y/N flinching at the sound of a raspy female voice coming through the phone pressed to the side of his face.

It was like she had become a balloon rapidly deflating, like the string tying it together was pulled free. Palm tingling now that Taehyung’s hand wasn’t resting in hers, she sat there completely flabbergasted.

“No, I’m not coming by the rec center today, Di. I’m developing the photos we took in the darkroom at my house, they’ll be ready next week. I don’t know if I’ll see you this weekend…”

Y/N had heard enough. Knees knocking together, she stood from the couch, Taehyung’s eyebrows pulling together in confusion, ignoring Diana’s whines on the other line. Speedily collecting her sheet music from the piano, she gave Taehyung a wave and a half smile.

“You finish your call, I gotta get ready for Yoongi’s birthday dinner tonight. Talk later?” Y/N was proud that her voice wasn’t shaky or full of pain, Taehyung blinking at her and his expression finally wiping blank again. He gave her a thumbs up, looking out the window as she left.

“Yeah, I know Di. I saw you last weekend, though.” Taehyung’s tone was beyond agitated as she shut the soundproof door, not wanting to spend one more second listening in on the conversation.

She was there, right there. About to tell Taehyung how she truly felt about him, to push past all of the angst between her and him, all for her hopes to crash around her with an interruptive phone call. Any confidence she had to confess her feelings to him was dashed and divided as soon as she heard the Kodiak hybrid call the woman on the phone Di. Taehyung had never given Y/N a nickname before, and that realization had her thinking that perhaps she had overestimated how he felt about her. Perhaps, to him, she was his guardian, someone off-limits romantically, someone that he would deem inconceivable to have those sort of feelings for. Y/N was the type to race, barrel, and fly into conclusions, so she had no trouble believing these spiraling thoughts as she locked herself in her bedroom.

Running her fingers through her hair, yanking the roots, she tried to take deep, centering breaths, like the ones Namjoon taught her how to do. Thankfully, after a few rounds of clutching her bedpost and breathing like a yoga instructor, it seemed to do the trick. Staring at herself in her vanity mirror, she came to one more, positive, at least, conclusion: at least Taehyung wasn’t upset with her, and perhaps he wouldn’t be so avoidant anymore.

Sighing raggedly, she checked her watch, swearing colorfully. Yoongi would be home shortly, so she’d have to move her ass like it was on fire to get ready for the dinner reservation she planned. Putting Taehyung out of her mind, as difficult as it was, she changed gears when she glanced at the silvery dress she picked up for the occasion, which happened to be one of Yoongi’s favorite colors. While she was turning on the shower tap, her phone chimed in her pocket, Y/N forgetting that she managed to swipe it out of Taehyung’s lap when he answered Diana’s phone call.

Yoongi 👼🏻: On my way home.

Y/N: Okay, birthday boy ❤️

Yoongi 👼🏻: 🙄❤️

Surprisingly, there was about half an hour to spare by the time Y/N had finished getting ready. Throwing a light sweater over the satiny dress she pulled on– mostly to prevent Seokjin from having a stroke that she was scantily dressed in early spring weather again– she made sure her hair and makeup was how she wanted it and set out to find her leopard hybrid.

In the hallway, the scent of greasy pizza hit her square in the face. Suspecting that Hoseok probably had Yoongi stop by Sal’s for some dinner before she and the leopard hybrid left for the night, the sounds of an action movie blaring in the parlor had her snickering. For beings with superior hearing, her boys loved to jack up the surround sound. Pausing by the staircase, she could hear Yoongi playing piano upstairs, probably waiting for her. Giddy, she skipped up the stairs, holding onto the old carved banister with reverence. Yoongi seemed to be playing the song he composed for Y/N, making her blush and nearly swoon into the music room.

Yoongi was seated on the bench where she was perched just hours ago. Dressed sharply in black dress pants and a matching dress shirt, the monochrome outfit highlighted the glimmer of his accessories– rings, bracelets, earrings, and of course, the sparkly chain clasped around his throat. His triangular ears immediately twitched towards her direction even if his face didn’t, his tempo never faltering even when she started heading right for him, a tender smile on her face when she ended up behind him. Ducking, she pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, in between his spotted ears, giggling when his tail tickled the bare skin of her thighs.

“You look nice,” Y/N purred into his hair, breathing in his shampoo. It was then when Yoongi stopped playing, craning his chin upwards to nuzzle his nose into her neck, making a similar purr to hers. “Happy birthday, Yoongi!”

“Ugh. I’m old,” Yoongi complained, his eyelashes tickling the skin of her throat.

“No you’re not. You’re just 30, the same age as Seokjin,” Y/N poked his shoulder, sliding her palm along his back as she rounded the bench, sitting on his free side.

“Silly girl, furthering my point. He’s old, too,” Yoongi grouched, ears turning back when Y/N swat at his forearm reproachfully. “Don’t whack me, it’s my birthday.”

“You’re sending some mixed signals about that, angel,” Y/N snorted, feeling his hand curl around her hip, fingers sliding along the satin material sensually. “Excited for dinner?”

“You keep hyping it up, are they going to bring out a cake and sing to me?” Yoongi asked, trepidation coloring his gravelly tone.

“Oh shit, do you want me to call and ask if they can do that?” Y/N joked, pretending to pick up her phone and dial the restaurant. Promptly, Yoongi snatched her phone away, stuffing it into the pocket of his dress pants. “Kidding. I just hope you like the food.”

“I’ll eat anything,” Yoongi shrugged, pink blush dusting his cheeks as shy purrs filled the room.

“Wanna play ‘Moonlight Lovers’ before we go? I practiced for you,” Y/N changed the subject, cozy tucked into his side.

“Did you?”

“Mm-hmm. I promised, didn’t I?” Y/N teased, humming when Yoongi planted a kiss on her jaw bone. To his dismay, she got up from the bench, making haste to the opposite end of the room. “You’re gonna sing while I play?”

“Sure, but? What are you doing, silly?”

“Look forward, angel!” Y/N pointed straight ahead, encouraging her leopard hybrid to tear his scrutiny from her fumbling with a telescope-like device in the corner. Slowly, he did.

The lights were low, so Y/N was pleased that the projection lamp displayed the image of the pearly white moon perfectly onto the wall beyond the grand piano. For a small fee on the internet, she was able to give Yoongi the full moon whenever he wanted, and he was a stunned, a still figure on the piano bench when she returned to his side, snuggling back into him.

Y/N didn’t wait for a response to the surprise, instead launching straight into the jazzy first bars of the song with practiced ease, grinning when Yoongi’s sock-clad food pressed over hers on the sustain pedal. Clingy as ever and seemingly recovering, Yoongi rested his chin on Y/N’s shoulder while she worked her way through the first few measures, nuzzling closer to her when she shivered at the ticklish sensation of his ears against her skin.

The world existed and it was just her and Yoongi, his voice quiet when he began singing the first verse, Y/N following along in her head since she had memorized the lyrics by then. Not knowing where his body began and hers ended, it was a miracle she was able to concentrate playing on tempo. The pace picked up at the refrain just before the chorus, and Y/N pushed past her nerves to join Yoongi in singing.

And we met under the moonlit sky

It was you, of all, who caught my eye

When you’re gone, I’m incomplete

No one but you

Has been this sweet

And under the moonlit sky

Across seas, you and I

Never again, will say goodbye

Y/N didn’t consider herself to be a world-class singer by any means, but with the way Yoongi’s arm tightened around her back, she could tell that he liked the sound of it, his own voice cutting off momentarily when she first began to harmonize with him. She played the rest of the song like that, Yoongi still tucked into the crook of her neck, his eyes closed.

Soaking in the moment, something in his chest unfurling and threatening to burst free, he clung to Y/N, spellbound as she perfectly played the last few measures of the song, gentle silence ringing out in the room when she finished. Unable to move, speak, or breathe, Yoongi went limp when Y/N kissed his forehead, letting him process.

“Perfect,” Yoongi managed, squeezing Y/N around her middle, filled with both nostalgia and joy, the artificial moonlight projected in the room somehow feeling so real. “You really must have practiced hard.”

“What can I say? I had the best teacher ever,” Y/N replied, bashfully, happy to hold Yoongi as long as he wanted; even risking missing their dinner reservations.

“I’m proud of my student. She’s come a long way,” Yoongi murmured, straightening up but still maintaining his possessive hold on her. Melting at the pure adoration on her face, Yoongi couldn’t help but cup the side of her face. “My mom would have loved you.”

Y/N’s face grew hot, Yoongi felt it under his palm, her lower lip wobbling.

“Really?”

“Maybe not as much as I love you, but yeah, she would have. You two have the same heart,” Yoongi smiled, not feeling an ounce of sadness like he usually did on his birthday the previous three years. “Wanna know a little bit more about her before we go? We still have time.”

“Please?” Y/N’s expression grew eager, Yoongi finding it adorable, pinching her nose playfully.

“Her and I lived in a tiny apartment above The Black Lodge, courtesy of the owner– Barry was his name– I suspect that Barry might have been in love with my mom. Barry was old-school, though, and never acted on anything considering a lot of guys his age thought human and hybrid relationships were taboo,” Y/N pouted, but Yoongi shook his head and rubbed circles on her waist with his thumb.

“Anyways, yeah, we lived in a one-bedroom above the bar courtesy of Barry. My mom always insisted I take the bedroom, and she’d fall asleep on a loveseat in the living room watching old Marilyn Monroe movies. She wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, ever, just like you. She smoked those long, skinny cigarettes and her favorite drink was a Manhattan. My mom could write a song in twenty minutes, I don’t know how she did it. She would sing like her voice came up from the Earth’s crust and flowed through her mouth. And her perfume… she’d always wear something floral to remind her of the spring, when I was born.”

“Your mom sounds glamorous, like a movie star. I bet she was beautiful, too,” Y/N’s voice was dreamy, thick with emotion. She pictured a woman just as striking as her Yoongi, with the same spotty ears and tail, the same lithe, graceful figure.

“Mm, she was,” Yoongi agreed, distantly wishing he had a picture of her to show Y/N. “Alright, we should head out. You can ask me more questions on the way there, if you want.”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, thrilled that Yoongi had opened up to her so much over time. There was something so wonderful about knowing someone on their deeper levels, especially a loved one, so Y/N cherished every tidbit of information Yoongi would offer her. Blissfully, knowing truly nothing could ruin her mood, she let Yoongi wait outside and order the taxi while she bid goodbye to the others in the parlor.

“Y/N, pretty, one of these days you’re gonna catch a cold,” Seokjin accused from his spot on the floor, wrapped in a throw blanket himself, staring pointedly at her bare legs. Y/N simply shook her head, bending low, and kissed his cheek softly, a feline chirp of pleasure leaving his lips and his orange eyes glowing in the dim light of the living room.

“We’ll be back in a little while. Please don’t eat the birthday cake until then,” Y/N drove that specific point home by looking directly at Namjoon, who was sheepishly gnawing on his fingernails on the couch, his book forgotten in his lap.

“Pick me up some?” Jeongguk lifted an empty carton of Marlboro reds in the air, tapping it hollowly, Y/N scowling.

“What’s the magic word, sweets?”

“For fu-” Jeongguk coughed when Namjoon sharply thwacked the back of his head with his book. “Please.”

“I have half a mind to buy you some nicotine patches,” Y/N muttered, accepting a jolty, goofy hug from Hoseok on the leather recliner. “Not to stir the pot, but once again, Jimin. You’re in charge.”

A series of exasperated groans filled the room as Jimin preened at the responsibility, nodding once at Y/N importantly. Taehyung, all the way at the back of the room by the window overlooking the backyard, was busy fussing over his camera, even if his ears were angled to the sound of her voice.

“I’m the eldest, shouldn’t I be in charge?” Seokjin sulked, his dark ears downturned just like the full corners of his mouth. Y/N simply snorted, knowing he was just pouting on purpose, giving him one last hair ruffle before starting to the foyer.

“I’ll be back soon, my sweet boys, alright?” Y/N blew the six hybrids a kiss, the various reactions of amusement and embarrassment making her feel warm and fuzzy as she made her way to the leopard hybrid waiting for her on the porch.

“I used to walk by this place on my way to the barber,” Yoongi remarked when the cab dropped them off at the restaurant, Y/N lacing their fingers together and admiring the way the city lights reflected off of his hazel eyes.

“Oh yeah? The one who gave you crazy haircuts?” Y/N mussed Yoongi’s long locks, smiling at him widely. “Speaking of. Never cut your hair short, please.”

“Why not, you like it like this?” Yoongi smirked devilishly, letting Y/N tug him into the restaurant.

“Yeah, it suits you! Don’t touch it, I’ll be really mad,” Y/N threatened, approaching the hostess’ booth. “Hi, we have an 8:00 reservation under the name Y/L/N.”

The restaurant Y/N found for Yoongi’s birthday was a jazzy hole-in-the-wall, the dining room filled with dim candle light. The place almost looked like a 20’s speakeasy, decked out with cushy red velvet booths, black tables, and old lamps scattered about. Y/N knew where Yoongi’s sight immediately went: the glossy grand piano beside the bar, where a gentleman in a suit was playing something slow and seductive. Still holding his hand, Y/N pulled Yoongi after the hostess, delighted with the intimate booth they ended up in, with a perfect view of the piano.

“This is a lot nicer than The Black Lodge,” Yoongi said dryly, still glancing around curiously, his nose twitching. “What kind of food do they have?”

“Italian, baby. We’re in the North End,” Y/N giggled, nudging his shin under the table and passing him a menu. Yoongi pouted at her teasing, immediately flipping the menu over to check the drink list. “After we eat, we can get some pastries to bring home!”

“You better hide them from the wolf, he’ll eat them all,” Yoongi warned, though Y/N had to admit, he was right.

“I’ll just get extra,” Y/N shrugged, the waitress promptly coming by to take their drink orders. Yoongi picked out a red wine, so Y/N went ahead and ordered the bottle, which had him squirming in his seat uncomfortably. “You don’t like being spoiled, angel?”

“Just not used to it,” Yoongi shook his head, his ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. “But… this is nice. You’re pretty good at planning birthdays, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“I should turn the talent into a business,” Y/N smirked around the lip of her wine glass, the Pinot Noir coating her throat like velvet. “What are you thinking about getting to eat?”

“Hmm… I feel like you can’t go wrong with steak,” Yoongi fiddled with his earrings, scanning the menu thoughtfully.

“I think I’m gonna get the ravioli,” Y/N announced, stomach already growling, Yoongi’s acute hearing picking it up and making him snort. “Stop laughing!”

When the waiter returned, he mercifully brought bread and oil, which Y/N happily snacked on with her wine, enjoying both the music and alone time with Yoongi.

“How’s the coaching gig?”

“I don’t know yet. The season doesn’t start until next week, all I’ve been doing is trying to figure out how to make practice plans. I’m not even sure I’m coach material.”

“Of course you are. You’re the best player on your own team, and kids love you. Besides, you taught me how to play piano in just a few months, you’re a natural born teacher, Yoongi,” Y/N shot down his doubts immediately, Yoongi looking away from her, shy. “I mean it! You’re patient, encouraging, and you keep me motivated. You’ll do really well.”

“You trying to butter me up?” Yoongi scoffed, tracking his index finger around the rim of his wine glass, eyes narrowed playfully.

“Is it working?” Y/N shot back, leaning slightly across the table, getting a few inches closer to his face. “Besides. It’s rewarding to make you proud.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi cocked his head, eyes dropping to Y/N’s hand, where she was tracing the bracelet around his wrist delicately. “Careful, Y/N.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Y/N exclaimed innocently, withdrawing her touch and sitting back with a wink, sipping her wine again.

“So, everything went well during your thing with the wolf and elk?” Yoongi changed the subject, a wicked gleam still in his eyes.

“Surprisingly, yes. I wish I could have filmed Jeongguk speaking in Latin for you. It was like watching an exorcism movie,” Y/N joked, Yoongi shaking his head in amusement. “The family moved back in yesterday. Next week we’re going to meet with them and make sure the cleansing and banishment did its job.”

“Well, I think a ‘congratulations’ is due,” Yoongi refilled both of their wine glasses, Y/N giggling when they clinked them together.

The man who was playing the piano finished his song, the intimate restaurant breaking out in polite applause. Y/N specifically looked for a restaurant like that one, one where diners could get up and play if they desired. It seemed Yoongi was realizing what was going on, an elderly woman getting up from her booth and ambling towards the piano with her martini. Her and Yoongi snickered when the woman began to play ‘Singin’ in the Rain’, vocalizing into the microphone a tad off-key.

Before Y/N could make a comment, their food arrived, which was a good thing since the wine was starting to make her feel flushed and ready to tackle her handsome date. The liquid courage was something she needed, though, as she began to anticipate the surprise she planned for Yoongi, sneaking a look at him while he was mid-bite of his steak. The meal passed by amicably, Yoongi letting her feed him a sliver of ravioli across the table, Y/N happy that she was able to treat Yoongi to a nice birthday dinner after three years of him likely not celebrating the day at all.

“Espresso?” The waiter returned to collect the plates once they were done, Y/N nodding, hoping to draw out the dinner just a little longer. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the old woman at the piano begin to get up from the bench, Y/N digging through her purse and standing, causing Yoongi to lift an eyebrow at her.

“Be right back,” Y/N breathed, setting off in the direction of the piano before her nerves could get the better of her, sheet music in one of her hands.

She could feel eyes on her as she approached the bench, clearing her throat and setting the music on the stand, thankful that the piano was similar to the one she had back at home. Clearing her throat, she scanned the restaurant once, finding Yoongi across the room, staring at her with utter confusion and anticipation. Smiling at him, she leaned towards the microphone.

“I hope you’re all having a nice evening,” Y/N began, trying not to cringe at the sound of her own voice. “I wanted to play a song I wrote tonight for someone special to me, on his birthday. This song is called ‘Soul Recognition’.”

With that, Y/N took a deep breath, easing into the first few measures. While at first, she expected to feel nervous and shaky, the mere reminder that Yoongi was watching her play had her relaxing and getting into the flow. Even though she was focused on the sheet music in front of her, she could feel Yoongi’s eyes on her from the other side of the room– that unspoken connection she had with him the very inspiration for the song’s title she had finally decided on.

Yoongi didn’t even register the waiter returning with two small cups of espresso, completely spellbound watching Y/N play a song she composed for him. Completely taken off guard, unaware that his mouth was wide open, all other noise in the restaurant dimmed completely while he drowned in her melody. The song was sweet, yearning, gentle, Y/N’s hands gliding over the keys smoothly, and the lights of the restaurant reflecting off of her shimmery dress and making her look like a star. Overcome with an intense feeling in his chest, not unlike the one he experienced earlier in the music room, Yoongi stopped breathing and the Earth stilled on its axis. Something clicked into place as he watched her, something both primal and cosmic, and all he could think about was making her his completely.

Yoongi didn’t even hear the applause all around him when Y/N finished her piece, the ending joyful and full, all he could do was stumble out of the booth, smacking cash onto the table and urgently crossing the restaurant. Y/N’s eyes went wide, bashful for some reason, meeting Yoongi in the middle. Before she could say anything, her face was in Yoongi’s hands, his lips crashing down on hers desperately, making her whimper in surprise. Y/N could taste something in his kiss, something different, important, and she was floating from it. Not caring about the people watching or the increase in applause at their spectacle, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, kissing him back just as passionately.

Yoongi pulled away all too soon, his eyes glassy, and pulled Y/N into his side, happy purrs vibrating through his chest.

“Did you like it?” Y/N asked meekly, a little dazed from the kiss, letting him guide her out of the restaurant with haste. Stopping outside, next to a bakery with the smell of chocolate flooding out into the street, Y/N offered Yoongi the hand-written sheet music shyly.

“It was beautiful,” Yoongi’s voice was thick, overwhelmed. “I loved it. You’re perfect, baby.”

Yoongi cupped her face again, kissing her cheeks with reverence. Her insides igniting, she hummed with satisfaction, his approval and proud tone of voice making the weeks of striking out composition wise worth it.

“Let’s get those pastries before we go home. You’re not leaving my sight tonight, though,” Yoongi warned her, grabbing a hold of her hand, dragging her to the entrance of the bakery. The way he warned her was full of dark promise, almost feral, Y/N deciding she couldn’t care less about the pastries.

Y/N hardly had time to place the ginormous box of pastries on the kitchen island before Yoongi was hauling her away, making her squeal as he slung her over his shoulder. The house was mostly dark, but it sounded like a few of the hybrids were still watching movies, so the way the leopard hybrid was so brazenly carrying her up the stairs had her cheeks on fire.

“Yoongi!” Y/N whisper-shouted, the hybrid grunting and pushing the door to his bedroom open, setting her down as soon as they were inside. “W-what are you– the others!”

Y/N watched Yoongi close and lock his door, distractedly pushing a towel under the threshold, as if that would do anything. A low, bone-chilling growl ripped through his throat at her mention of ‘the others’ Y/N’s gut tightening at the sound.

“It’s still my birthday, you’re still going to spend the rest of it with me, right?” Yoongi’s voice dropped an octave, stalking towards her slowly, Y/N backing up until her knees hit the foot of his bed, staring up at him nervously. “Won’t you?”

“Yes, Yoongi,” Y/N whispered, entranced. With the sound of his name coming from her lips, Yoongi had that feeling again, one that was taking over him completely.

Cocking his head, his gaze dropped to the cardigan slipping over her shoulders, reaching up to push the material off of her, the garment falling to the floor. Shivering at the temperature of the room on her bare shoulders, Y/N swallowed thickly, waiting for him to make the first move. There hadn’t been an instance where she had been intimate with Seokjin or Yoongi while the others were in earshot, and the idea of being listened to had adrenaline pulsing through her veins, shamefully.

“Yoongi,” Y/N squirmed under his scrutiny, taking in every inch of her in the cocktail dress that left little to the imagination.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet,” Yoongi sighed, as if the thought somewhat disappointed him, a fingertip sliding slowly up the side of her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath her skin. “Think you can do that?”

“Anything for you,” Y/N admitted without hesitation, watching his expression soften. Deciding to act on her own, Y/N leaned forward up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Yoongi’s neck, giving a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Love you.”

Yoongi shuddered, cupping her hips, letting her kiss him gently, Y/N pouring all the love she had for him into the gesture. He returned it in kind, pulling her impossibly close, swiping his tongue along her lower lip heavily. Y/N was already failing at his request for her to be quiet, tiny mewls falling into Yoongi’s mouth, making him smirk against her. Winding her fingers in his hair, Y/N pressed her body even closer to him, feeling his chest rumble beneath her.

“Lay down, baby,” Yoongi mumbled against her lips, lightly pushing on her hips, causing her knees to buckle and her to collapse backwards on his bed.

She watched, heat flashing over her skin, as Yoongi stared down at her, methodically unbuttoning his black dress shirt, the sight of his chest being revealed bit by bit drying up her mouth. Planting her feet on the bed, she brought her knees together, attempting to rub her thighs together for friction, Yoongi’s pupils dilated at the sight.

“Eager?” Yoongi teased, pushing his dress shirt off his shoulders, licking his lips. He couldn’t deny that he, himself, was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Always,” Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, ready for him to pounce on her. “Come here.”

Grunting, unable to hold himself back, Yoongi was on top of her in a heartbeat, his lips crushing hers, Y/N arching upwards into his chest, tracing her hands all over his silky, feverish skin. Flicking her tongue against the roof of his mouth, Yoongi made a choked noise of pleasure, pressing his hips into hers.

“I love you, baby,” Yoongi murmured, tucking his face into her neck and sponging the sensitive flesh with kisses, Y/N writing beneath him. “Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, hmm?”

Yoongi sat back on his heels, Y/N sitting up slightly and putting her arms in the air, waiting for Yoongi to strip the fabric from her body. Mouth watering at the sight of the swollen petals of her lips and the glazed look in her eyes, her pounding heartbeat was music to Yoongi’s ears. Sliding his hands up her thighs, Yoongi got a hold of the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head, Y/N’s face on fire when she remembered she didn’t wear a bra with her outfit. Yoongi, however, groaned thickly, pushing on her hips again, making her fall back against the pillows with a squeak.

Immediately, his mouth was on her chest, Y/N biting down on her fist when his lips wrapped around a nipple, whimpering as his sharpened canines scraped over the sensitive bud. Yoongi was usually a talker in the bedroom, but the mood was different that night, like he was trying to taste every inch of her. Gliding her free hand through his hair, Y/N made pathetic, small noises as he had his way with her chest.

“Y-yoongi,” Y/N felt her lace underwear sticking to her center already, though truthfully, they had grown damp the moment he kissed her in the restaurant. Tongue passing over one of the ridges of her ribs, Yoongi hummed in response, enjoying being completely tangled up in her.

Gasping sharply, she felt Yoongi cup her through her panties, lips returning to her mouth, his tongue rolling against hers sensually. Swallowing the noises she was making, Yoongi growled at the wetness seeping through her panties, tracing a circle around her clothed clit. Y/N cried out, her embarrassment clear as day on her face when she realized the sound was anything but quiet, Yoongi lowly chuckling against her throat.

“Quiet, baby,” Yoongi reminded her, though he did absolutely nothing to encourage her to actually be quiet when he pushed the gusset of her panties to the side and dipped his fingers between her soaked folds. Hips bucking into his hand, Y/N looked at her leopard hybrid imploringly, eyebrows pulled together as he touched her.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groaned, easily sliding a finger into her sopping cunt, Y/N clawing at his chest and leaving red scratches in her wake. “Missed this pussy…”

Y/N couldn’t hold back the mewls she was making, especially when he added a second digit to join the first, thumb pressing down sharply on her clit. Tears pricking the corners of her eyes, frustrated she couldn’t be as vocal as she wanted to be, she bit down on Yoongi’s shoulder when he curled his fingers into her G-spot.

He worked her up slowly, the lewd sounds of her wetness slipping into his palm driving him absolutely crazy. Biting down on Yoongi’s shoulder didn’t work for long as the coil in her abdomen began to tighten, a shuddering moan filling the bedroom, Yoongi hissing and withdrawing his fingers from her cunt, a dismayed whine falling from Y/N’s lips. Before she could complain, Yoongi was pulling her panties off of her body, balling them up, and while her mouth was still open, Yoongi pushed the fabric into her mouth. Eyes bugging out of her head, Y/N was trembling beneath the leopard hybrid, who appeared quite smug that he managed to gag her.

“There we go, huh?” Yoongi cooed, stroking through her folds again, Y/N yanking at the belt loops of his dress pants and unintelligibly groaning something. “What’s that? Wanna cum?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, Yoongi’s dark, condescending chuckle making her ears burn. Contrary to his question, he didn’t slip his fingers back into her weeping cunt, instead he teasingly traced her entrance, Y/N throwing her head back in frustration. Yoongi was close to losing his own patience, hastily ridding himself of his pants, tossing them somewhere behind him.

Saliva soaking the fabric of her ruined panties, Y/N ached to take the gag out of her mouth, but Yoongi shot her a warning look, so she simply squirmed on the bed and nearly choked on the panties when he settled his hips against hers, rolling them. Yoongi nearly collapsed at the friction, and Y/N keened at the sensation of his bulge colliding against her tacky core, desperate for him to be inside her already.

“That’s a good girl, behaving,” Yoongi mumbled into her ear, kissing just below it while a free hand squeezed at her breast. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the gag out soon. Wanna hear you when you cum for me, baby.”

Feeling wetness gushing out of her in response to his filthy words, she tried to implore him to get on with it with her eyes. Rolling his hips against her again, the two of them writing together like desperate teenagers, Y/N ran her hands down Yoongi’s toned back, the leopard hybrid sharply biting down on her clavicle when her fingertips brushed the base of his tail, his hips stuttering.

“F-fuck, Y/N,” Yoongi whined, Y/N never hearing him sound so needy. Using her fingernails, she lightly scraped through the silky fur, Yoongi finally snapping.

Shucking his boxers off, Y/N’s mouth filled with saliva as she watched his erection spring up from the material. Distractedly, Yoongi peeled her panties out of her mouth, Y/N gasping for air when he hooked one of her legs around his waist. Again, Yoongi kissed her, a flurry of tongue and teeth, needing to taste her, to consume her. Y/N could hardly keep up, holding him tightly around the neck, the coolness of his silver chain hitting her in the face as he lined himself up. Breath catching, she moaned into Yoongi’s plush lips as he pushed in, his teeth gritting at the tight fit.

“Fuck, baby,” Yoongi panted, planting one of his palms beside her face for leverage, the walls of her cunt spasming around him as she got used to his size. “So good–”

“Please, please,” Y/N whimpered, trying to keep her tone in check so he wouldn’t gag her again. Yoongi’s ears fluttered at her sweet, ruined voice, the grip he had on her thigh hooked around his waist bruising. “Baby…”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Yoongi knew what she wanted without her having to vocalize it. Slowly, he rolled his hips, the drag of her walls around his cock intoxicating, both of them breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. It was the look on her face that had Yoongi control dissolving into nothing, the look of complete and utter love, and with a snarl, he tucked his nose into her neck, snapping his hips more harshly into hers.

“Baby, my baby,” Yoongi moaned into her throat, tasting sweat on her skin. Wild, being driven crazy by the muffled cries she was trying to keep in check with a hand pressed over her lips, Yoongi found himself babbling and unleashing the emotions he was feeling the entire night. “I love you so much. My mate.”

Y/N gasped, and it had nothing to do with how his cock was hitting every sweet spot inside of her, it was his words. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Y/N kissed him, relishing in the feline purrs of elation he was making.

“M-mate?” Y/N managed breathlessly, arching into him when his pelvis brushed against her clit with each stroke, his lips in her hair.

“Mm-hmm. Mate, you’re mine,” Yoongi mumbled deliriously, the pitch of her moans telling him she wasn’t going to last much longer. “Forever, baby.”

With a hand around her throat, Yoongi pinned her to the mattress, the speed of his thrusts picking up, a feral sort of possession beginning to take over him darkly. By then, he didn’t care if the whole neighborhood heard what they were doing, focused solely on pleasuring his mate. With the weight of his palm on her throat and the way he angled the tip of his cock directly into her G-spot, Y/N was clenching around him unexpectedly, the strength of her orgasm taking the wind out of her.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me, my sweet mate,” Yoongi lightly squeezed the sides of her throat, not far behind her, truthfully. “Shit. I’m–”

“Yoongi,” Y/N’s voice was broken, her skin covered in a thin coat of sweat, and when she leaned up to kiss him again, Yoongi was gone. Hips stilling, he came with a ruined moan, Y/N shivering at the sensation of his hot cum filling her, pressing shaky kisses to the side of his face as pleasure tore through him violently.

Collapsed on top of her and not entirely sure he could move, Yoongi tried to catch his breath as Y/N tenderly ran her fingers through his hair, her own chest heaving beneath him. The feeling he had earlier in the day, the unfurling of something from inside, he realized what it was the second she finished playing the song she wrote from her. Y/N was his mate, and he admittedly should have figured that out sooner, but the realization had all the stars in his sky lining up. There had never been a time where Yoongi felt closer to his animalistic side rather than human, which he used to be afraid of showing to Y/N. But there she was, accepting of him with wide open arms and unconditional acceptance. His mate could be no one but her.

“Am I really… your mate?” Y/N asked hesitantly, after several minutes of enjoying post-coital bliss. She didn’t really care that Yoongi’s heavy body was crushing her, simply letting him hide away from the world in the crook of her neck, here he was still mouthing away at the skin. Pausing, Yoongi pulled away slightly, worry creasing his brow.

“Does that bother you?” Yoongi asked carefully, Y/N blanching and immediately shaking her head.

“Absolutely not, why would it? I adore you, Yoongi,” Y/N insisted, brushing sweaty hair out of his face. Relaxing again, Yoongi purred, nudging the tip of her nose with his.

“‘M tired,” Yoongi mumbled, Y/N wincing when he pulled out of her, blindly reaching for a towel on the floor to mop up the mess between her legs. “You’re gonna stay with me, right?”

“Is that another birthday wish, angel?” Y/N teased, Yoongi grumbling and rolling off of her, gathered the crumpled quilt at the foot of his bed and pulled it up over the two of them, effectively keeping Y/N there. “Too tired to quip back?”

“Smart mouth,” Yoongi offered, opening up his arms and looking at her through lidded eyes. “Lemme hold you.”

Snickering, Y/N wiggled closer to her leopard hybrid, resting her cheek on his chest, pouting at the red lines she left on his skin. Tracing them softly, she pressed a kiss to one of the marks, Yoongi’s arms snaking around her middle.

“Thank you for writing me a song,” Yoongi broke the silence, holding her tight.

“Thank you for writing me one. It’s about time you had one too,” Y/N replied, Yoongi’s chest shaking with quiet laughter at the response. Yawning, she felt sated, lax in his arms, and while she was in for an interesting morning encountering the others, it was one of the furthest things from her mind. “Love you.”

Yoongi didn’t respond with words, instead, he kissed the top of her head, drawing patterns over her waist until her breathing evened out, making sure she was asleep before he allowed himself to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Sunday was the day of the week Y/N had laundry duty, and she was knee-deep in dirty socks. Thankfully, she had a helper with her, even if the rest of her housemates accused him of somehow helping Y/N ‘cheat’ at laundry duty. Grimacing at a particularly dirty pair of socks, she tossed them into the wash, Seokjin helpfully tossing scented laundry beads into the machine with a smile.

“Did you finish your book for tomorrow’s meeting, honey?” Y/N asked him, Seokjin wrinkling his nose at one of Jimin’s muddy socks.

“Yeah, it was a pretty quick read this week,” Seokjin replied, a cute grin on his face when Y/N shut the washer’s lid, leaning against it leisurely. “This week isn’t going to be as busy for you, is it?”

“No, thankfully. Last week was nuts,” Y/N sighed, placing the detergent back on the shelf. “I told you I switched around my work days, right? I’m going to do Tuesdays-Thursdays, not including the odd consultation here and there.”

“I remember you telling me, yes,” Seokjin tickled her sides, wanting to see her smile. “Four day weekends, that’ll be nice!”

Squeaking, she felt Seokjin unexpectedly pick her up by her hips, spinning her around and setting her on top of the dryer. Now eye-level with him, Y/N blushed, straightening out the collar of his loose tee-shirt.

“It will be. More time to spend with you,” Y/N agreed. More time for her to spend with all of them. Seokjin handed her a pair of jeans to fold– Yoongi’s, by the look of them, making Y/N pause and think about her leopard hybrid again.

Ever since Yoongi called her his mate, there was little else she thought about. Not only that, but it had her thinking about ruts again; when Yoongi would have his, she would be the one he would spend it with. Going stiff, she halted her folding, Seokjin raising an eyebrow at her while he placed a folded graphic tee of Jeongguk’s on the shelf.

“Something on your mind, pretty girl?” Seokjin’s tail wound around his leg curiously, Y/N jolted out of her thoughts. Seokjin, out of all of her hybrids, was one of the easiest to confide in. Recalling her phone conversation with Ben, she decided to ask her burning questions after all.

“Yeah, actually. Can I ask you a couple of things? About hybrids,” Y/N twitched on top of the dryer, all of Seokjin’s attention on her at once. He nodded straight away, predictably.

“Um, how do I put this…” Y/N started, embarrassed. “You know what? Screw it. I wanted to ask about ruts. Is there a specific, um, I don’t know. Procedure to go through? Like if one of you wants a partner to help you through it, who do I contact?”

Seokjin’s neck colored bright red, apparently not expecting questions like that. An array of reactions played across his handsome face: bashfulness, disbelief, and pure shock.

“I– I don’t know about the others, pretty, but when mine happens, I,” he swallowed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, I’d hope that you would be the one to help me through it. I wouldn’t want anybody else.”

Taking a second to process that, Y/N grew hot, Seokjin uttering the last part of his response as if the idea of spending his rut with anyone else was completely repulsive.

“You wouldn’t?” Y/N clarified stupidly, Seokjin making a feline noise of annoyance.

“Of course not. You’re the only one for me, pretty,” Seokjin drove home, squeezing her knee. “As for the others… Well, when their times come, I’m sure if they need something, they’ll tell you. Mmm?”

“So… how do you know when it will happen?”

“Honestly, the instinct, or ruts in general I should say, usually don’t kick in full-force for us until we meet someone we feel strongly about romantically. Prior to that, it’s usually just a week or so of secluded ‘downtime’, if you will. Mine has never been strong enough to need a partner, but I suspect that will change now that I’m with you…” Seokjin explained, Y/N hanging off every word.

“Because of me?”

“Well, yes,” Seokjin pinched her cheek. “Of course.”

“Okay. That answers my questions at the moment,” Y/N mumbled, skin still on fire.

Seokjin snorted, recovering smoothly from the bombshell she dropped on him, stepping forward to kiss the tip of her nose. Eyes fluttering shut, she soaked in his clean scent, appreciating the way he never teased her about matters surrounding her lack of knowledge on hybrids.

“Alright, let’s finish up in here. I’m gonna teach you how to make sourdough today, remember, pretty girl?” Seokjin pushed another pair of jeans into her lap, winking.

The woman standing in front of her, Namjoon, and Jeongguk seemed like an entirely different one from the one in their memories. Ms. Sanders– Erika– no longer had purplish circles under her eyes, her posture wasn’t shrunken, and she flung the front door to her house open with confidence. Stunned, her and her two hybrids lingered on the concrete porch, the woman eagerly gesturing them inside.

“Oh my goodness. I don’t know what to say. The house is like a completely different home,” Erika rushed out, Y/N breathing in the crisp, fresh air in the living room with deep satisfaction. “I cannot thank you three enough. Whatever you did worked completely.”

“So, everything has been going well since last Wednesday when you moved back in?” Y/N sought to confirm, sitting beside Jeongguk on the couch and accepting a mug of tea from the young mother gratefully.

“Tommy’s nightmares stopped. Julie’s coming out of her shell again. I haven’t seen a single shadow, or heard any knocking on the walls. I can’t believe it,” Erika gushed, glancing at the three of them like they were her saviors. Jeongguk, beside her, fidgeted in his seat in reaction to the attention, while Namjoon stood off to the side, sipping his mug of tea with pink ears.

“I’m so happy to hear that. I brought you a few things, just to give you an added layer of protection. I made these amulets for you and the children to wear when leaving the house, and Jeongguk has added some incense from the church to this bag for you to burn as well,” Y/N handed the mother a gift bag, which she accepted gratefully.

Jeongguk explained how and when to use the incense, and Namjoon answered a few questions about the investigation, but after the tea was finished, Y/N and her hybrids took that as their cue to leave. Erika was in the middle of giving Y/N a very tight hug when the sound of footsteps came bounding down the stairs, making the three of them pause by the door. Tommy appeared in front of them, looking well-rested and healthy, holding onto his toy robot and staring up at Namjoon with complete awe. Y/N watched, stunned, as Tommy threw his arms around Namjoon, pressing his cheek into the wolf hybrid’s stomach, Jeongguk’s smoky chuckle filling the room as Namjoon went statue-still, hesitantly patting the young boy’s back.

“Oh, I mentioned he loves wolves, didn’t I?” Erika clasped a hand over her mouth, her eyes misty but expression joyful.

Y/N’s eye caught the top of the stairs, where Julie was leaning against the banister. The teenager nodded, just once, at her and Jeongguk, her subtle thank-you to them. Once Tommy managed to peel himself from Namjoon, the three of them were leaving the Sanders’ home for the final time, the small family waving at them from the living room window as they pulled away in the van.

“Ow. Shit,” Jeongguk hissed from the backseat, Y/N flinching at the sound of his strained voice and promptly flying from her seat beside Namjoon to see what was wrong with the elk hybrid.

To her horror, there was blood leaking from his hairline into his face, and he was poking around the base of his antlers again. Or antler, she realized, as one of them had fallen from his head and clattered to the floor, blood staining the van’s carpet.

“Oh my god! What happened?!” Y/N rushed over to him, cupping his face frantically. “Did you bump into something? What am I gonna do?”

Jeongguk grabbed her wrist, grimacing.

“I’m fine, kiddo. Remember when I shed my velvet? I shed the antlers in the spring. They’ll grow back. It just hurts like a bitch when they fall out,” Patting her wrist, Jeongguk winced when the second antler fell to the floor, more blood spilling onto his forehead. “You can let go, I’m not dying.”

Reeling, the spots where his antlers once were gory and painful looking. As per his request, she released his face, staring at the antlers on the ground. Bending, she picked them up, Jeongguk clicking his tongue at her while he dabbed his face with a tissue.

“Just chuck those out the window,” he muttered indifferently, Y/N scowling at him.

“Absolutely not. What if I wanna keep them? They’re pretty!” Jeongguk stared at her like she grew a second head.

“What, are you gonna make a lamp out of them or something?”

“No, you jerk. I don’t know, maybe I’ll put them on my altar,” Y/N held the antlers away from him, worried he’d try to take them out of her grasp. “You don’t look nearly as threatening without them, by the way.”

Indeed, now the only thing on the top of Jeongguk’s head were his tapered chestnut-colored ears, which were twitching cutely at the sound of her voice. She wondered when his antlers grew back, if he’d look like Bambi, his doe eyes and all.

“Fine. Do whatever you want with them,” Jeongguk held his hands up, but there was faint color on his high cheekbones.

“I will,” Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, marching back to the passenger seat. Namjoon glanced at the antlers in her lap with minor interest, amusement clear as day on his face. “Wanna get hot pot again before we go home?” Namjoon ended up really liking the restaurant, and she felt like having a celebratory lunch.

“With me looking like this? Are you serious?” Jeongguk was incredulous, gesturing to the blood caked in his hair through the rearview mirror.

“Why not? Fits your goth agenda,” Y/N teased, Namjoon absolutely losing it beside her, eyes scrunching up into crescent moons.

“Goth agenda? Are you trying to push your luck today?”

“Yes,” Y/N sang, noting that Namjoon was already driving in the direction of the restaurant. “And I’ll continue to.”

Yoongi wiped the sleep from his eyes, blindly stumbling towards the music room before he went downstairs for his coffee. He was in the middle of composing something new to teach Y/N, and wanted to retrieve his book of blank sheet music to work on over breakfast. Truly still waking up, he didn’t notice that Taehyung was in the room until he caught a whiff of the Kodiak hybrid’s scent. Pausing at the threshold of the door, Yoongi was surprised Taehyung didn’t flee the room as soon as Yoongi walked in. The Kodiak hybrid appeared deep in thought, the record he was playing on the turntable scratching uselessly on the label, like he had already listened through that side already.

“Uh… hey,” Yoongi greeted him, noticing the tired look on the other hybrid’s face. Not expecting a response, since Taehyung pretty much avoided him since finding out about him and Y/N, Yoongi shrugged, heading to the piano to scoop up what he needed.

“How’s Y/N lately?” Taehyung startled Yoongi by speaking gruffly, the leopard hybrid not understanding where he was going with that question.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? You live under the same roof,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows, Taehyung snorting sardonically.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me,” Taehyung pushed a hand through his dark curls, Yoongi rolling his eyes. Yoongi was fed up with the Kodiak hybrid’s behavior, how it was affecting Y/N, and how oblivious the kid was in general.

“And why do you think that is? You avoid her like the plague. She’s just giving you the space you’re practically begging for,” Yoongi crossed his arms across his chest, tail curling around him agitatedly.

“I just– I don’t know. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, I met someone, but she’s…” Yoongi let the wheels begin to turn in Taehyung’s head, trying not to be impatient. “She’s–”

“She’s not Y/N,” Yoongi finished bluntly, not sufficiently caffeinated enough for that conversation. Taehyung flinched like he was electrocuted, looking at Yoongi with alarm.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung accused, heart racing.

“What do you mean, Taehyung?” Yoongi threw his hands up, exasperated. “Avoiding her, trying to distract yourself with someone else. You need to just admit it to yourself, or you’re gonna develop an ulcer.”

“Admit what?” Taehyung spat, aggravated, standing and sizing up the leopard hybrid.

“That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

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kentopedia · 7 months

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — currently at 21k words

PART I ♰ MASTERLIST

As another careful conversation progressed, you poured the tasteless champagne down your throat, the liquid far too much like sandy water.

It was the same, over, and over. The sentence structures were unchanged, never deviating from saying too much without saying anything at all. A practiced smile would follow, where lips perfectly curled upwards. Copied faces plastered onto the next, making it difficult to determine where one individual personality ended and the next began.

These were repeated games, you knew, and you maintained the politeness required of you, even as each curtsy felt stiff and robotic, each refined handshake felt dishonest and meaningless.

Still, you’d grown used to the monotony of this dull life. You tolerated it gladly, ignoring the continuous throb in the back of your mind that grated at you, reminding you that things hadn’t always been this way.

Quietly, you shoved that small voice away. If all of the pomp and circumstance meant you’d feel normal, you’d gladly put on a show and pretend you belonged there.

The woman that stood before you continued her monologue, her dark eyes bright enough to match her elated smile. Her lips were a red, distracting and perfectly lined with the kind of makeup you were certain was far outside her budget. Though her cheeks were powdered and bright, you noticed the beginnings of lines on her young skin, the signs of a life more taxing than she let on.

You’d forgotten her name already. Too many people had introduced themselves to you this evening, and you hadn’t had the patience or interest to remember them. It was unlikely you’d see most of the guests again, after all.

“Congratulations,” the woman said, squeezing your wrist like you’d once played together on the playground. You cringed, wondering if she’d say anything about the iciness of your skin, though it was almost indiscernible with your satin glove as a cover. “I had a feeling you two were going to get engaged soon, but I had no idea when he would pop the question.”

You traded her an indulgent smile, nodding along as you tried not to let all of the conversation float right over your head. Somewhere in the past few decades, you’d lost interest in the faux interactions that events of this grandeur yielded. Everyone was merely putting on their best act, fitting in with those that they deemed superior to them in every way.

In truth, your engagement party was never supposed to reach this scale. Somewhere in between a few close friends, half the city had been invited. It was alarming to see so many unfamiliar faces in a celebration that was supposed to be entirely for you and your new fiancée.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly as Atsushi nudged you gracefully, probably wondering if you’d been ignoring all his friends that evening.

You had… but you felt bad telling him that and would never admit to it. The engagement ball had been his idea, and while you were vehemently against it, you’d indulged him in his innocent excitement. After a life that you’d lived to the fullest, Atsushi seemed to think he had something to prove when it came to loving you.

You just wanted to be with him, plain and simple. There was no need for all the theatrics.

“I’m surprised you invited so many people, Atsushi,” the woman continued, and you’d wished you’d paid attention when she told you her name. She was one of Atsushi’s co-workers, after all. He’d be upset with you if you forgot everyone that he introduced you to. “You’re not usually that type of person.”

Atsushi flushed, and he darted his eyes away bashfully. “It wasn’t my intention for so many guests to be here. Someone got a bit carried away with the invitations.” His thought trailed off, and he diverted to the story of how the elaborate affair had been conceived. Atsushi was the friend of a wealthy agency president’s son, who had offered to organize the event for you. Predictably, he went completely overboard, and now appeared to be having more fun than either you or Atsushi.

Atsushi spun that particular tale with passionate amusement, and you let your eyes wander, hoping to spot a singular face that you were familiar with. If you stood by your fiancée with nothing to say any longer, you weren’t sure you’d make it to the end of the night.

Across the room, a couple of your neighbors huddled in a circle of gossip. You considered speaking to them, if only to entertain yourself, but their husbands were horrendously awful, you didn’t think you could stomach it.

The rest of Atsushi’s co-workers shared hors d'oeuvres and a polite conversation away from the societal elites. On the left side of the floor, the woman who tailored your clothes spoke with another young girl you’d never seen before. A baker from down the street drowned himself in a glass of champagne, looking so dreadfully lonely that you weren’t sure how he’d gotten into the party at all.

You frowned inwards, realizing that while you recognized many of these people, they were more Atsushi’s friends than your own. These were people who greeted him every night on the street, passing their eyes over you like you were just another midnight fling, not the woman he’d been with for nearly two years.

There were too many strangers here to celebrate a marriage they felt nothing about. The superficiality of the situation left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you, very quickly, felt like an outcast at your own party.

You played with the chain around your neck, glancing from person to person. Atsushi, beside you, carried on his conversation, every so often throwing in a word about his work. You were listening half-heartedly, still trying to decide if this was worth all the trouble, or if you should give up on the niceties and head home early.

Someone behind you laughed.

The noise caught your notice because of how achingly familiar it was, how eerie, even. It was cynical and sharp, almost a snort of air that had been released on an accidental exhale. Still, you could hear the genuine amusement in it, a gratitude that came with being able to have something to laugh about.

You shuddered, your body unwillingly reacting as you turned to see who had been loud enough to draw your attention, to stand out amongst a sea of disinteresting people and intolerable voices.

In the corner, the man stood with an aligned spine, every muscle taut to hold himself up. His dark hair was grown out, but every strand remained smooth and healthy, falling over his forehead in loose waves that were glossy in the candlelight. He was caught in a conversation with another, twirling a glass of wine between his fingers, disgustingly captivated by the individual before him.

There was something too recognizable about him for comfort. The shadowed outline of his silhouette was the ghost of a memory, and you were left gawking at a person that you might not even recognize once he turned.

Swallowing, you tried to avert your gaze more subtly as he began to shift his position. He’d noticed you watching him, and he peered over his shoulder, in the fraction of a moment, to catch your eye.

His features were unmistakable.

Your glass slipped from your hands, shattering into a hundred tiny shards on the marble floor. It shushed the room as you maneuvered clumsily to hide away behind Atsushi. From head to foot, you had gone stiff, your body colder than it ever had been, even when you were on the brink of death, before the bliss of sweet blood had ventured down your throat, a memory you’d tucked far away.

You’d long since given up on praying, but you thought about it, just this once, in the hopes he hadn’t recognized you.

Which was a ridiculous concept, really. The memory of him was as fresh in your mind as every bit of yesterday was. He was as likely to forget the image of you as he was his own name, even if you did your makeup differently, if your clothes had changed from how they’d once been.

He’d come here with a purpose—that was the only thing that made sense—and it certainly would have something to do with you. The undeniable acknowledgement sent another wave of nausea through your gut, and you tried to remember what it was like to breathe.

“Honey?” Atsushi asked, concerned, his voice bringing you back to the present. His hand was on your lower back, wide eyes full of an anxiety you often saw reflected back at you. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, clutching your hands to your sides to calm yourself. If you didn’t turn around, maybe he’d go away. Maybe he was just an illusion. One way or another, you needed to be free of him. “I just need to get some fresh air. I’ll be alright.”

It was then that you realized that almost everyone’s eyes were on you, and while some stared back at you with pity, some began snickering under their breaths at the darkened stains on the bottom of your gown. You ignored them, trying not to feel the burning observation against your back, trapping you.

If you left, he was certain to follow.

You stepped away from Atsushi, and his hand reached out to you, before retracting, falling. “Are you sure?” He followed your every movement. “You seem—”

“Yes.” You smiled at him placatingly, hoping no one else could hear you. You didn’t want them to be concerned—least of all, Atsushi. It had nothing to do with your engagement, and you were afraid it appeared that way. “I’ll be right back.”

Atsushi seemed to understand after that, shifting his attention to his friends warmly, as he attempted to diffuse the tension. If anything, he knew that you had no desire to cause a scene and relented to your wishes, drawing everyone’s focus off of you. “Alright. I’ll wait here.”

He’d always been steadfast in his understanding. It was one of the reasons that you had fallen for him in the first place.

You nodded and said goodbye to the dark-haired woman before escaping from the ballroom, hoping you could find a room to hide in. Once your feet started moving, they didn’t stop, carrying you throughout the manor in a desperate search for the closest escape route. There were too many doors in the house, a multitude of bedrooms that weren’t needed at all.

As you weaved your way through the halls, you ran into a few couples caught in a salacious embrace, blocking each of the rooms that had once been private. They shouted at you, and you slammed the door uncomfortably, having no desire to intrude on their secretive affairs.

You couldn’t remember what it was like to be sick, to expel every last fluid from your stomach, but you were certain it resembled whatever you were feeling now. Foreboding dread had come to cripple you in every sense of the word, gripping you tightly in the vice of panic.

Finally, you reached an empty bedroom, one with a balcony that overlooked nothing but the gardens. It was a beautiful night, and the dark sky calmed you, bringing you back to the present, pulling you away from memories that you had shoved deep into the pits of your soul, burying them under lock and key.

There was a dreamy hue over the garden, illuminated by the candles and lamps outside. For just a moment, you basked in the serene lighting, the calmness of the evening away from all the guests. The music inside was but a faint whisper, the orchestra stumbling their way back into a tune after you’d escaped the ball less than dramatically.

Inhaling through your nose, you stilled your mind, and waited for the peace to end.

You felt his presence behind you before you heard him, those sharp eyes on you like daggers along your back. He moved silently, gracefully, like he was floating above the floor and not even there at all.

You curled your hands into a fist, staring hard into the horizon as your nails broke the skin of your palm. He’d be the first one to speak, as he always had been, and you’d get sucked into his alluring features, letting yourself indulge as you knew you shouldn’t.

Closing your eyes, you waited for him to break the silence. To come up behind you and hover his touch over your skin. The fragrance of his skin got closer and closer, and you squeezed your eyes tighter, hating how much you’d missed him. That even when you despised him, a part of you still belonged in his possession.

“I’ve missed you, my angel.”

Five words were all it took. Your knees buckled under you, the voice you hadn’t heard in decades like a soothing lullaby from your childhood, a hymn you’d used to worship a god that had left you behind. Your knuckles turned pale as you squeezed the stone of the balcony barrier, just enough force to keep you on your feet.

His voice was never gentle, but for you, he plated his steely knife in rose-colored foil, softening the edges until it couldn’t cut too deep. The sound was exactly as it had always been; nostalgia had its teeth deep in you, before that cool wave of horror crashed over you, remembering who it was, exactly, that you were dealing with.

“Don’t call me that.” You grew stiff as you felt him drawing closer, pulling to you with every word. Within seconds, he was near enough to ghost a breath along your neck, merely a phantom sensation.

“Hm.” His fingers dipped along your shoulders, the blades between them, and you tilted your head away, refusing to gaze into those eyes. “You always did hate that, didn’t you?”

Against your better judgement, a part of you had lit on fire. You longed for him, even when it sickened you.

“Perhaps my lovely devil will suffice instead. You never could accept that you were the very killer I made you out to be.”

“I don’t care what you call me.” You stepped away until you were digging your flesh into the balcony guard, the stone cold as it pressed into your stomach. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Can you say that while meeting my eyes?" Dazai laughed, and though the sound of it was acerbic and mocking, he stayed where he was. "Maybe I’ll believe you, then. You’ve always been so horrible at lying to me.”

You snarled, ready to slice your nails across his cheek and watch with satisfaction as the blood dripped to his chin.

The anger steeled you, made you think you’d be prepared to face him once more; surely the hatred for him outweighed your lasting weakness.

You turned, eyes narrowed, and though you continued to exhibit your antagonism, the sight of him was poison to your resolve.

Dazai was still as hauntingly beautiful as always, those deep eyes gleaming in the moonlight, watching you with a hint of amusement. His hair was styled as it had been a century ago, transcending lifetimes while he remained eternally twenty-two. He smiled, lips curling into a grim expression, all too delighted with the loose hold he still had over you.

You averted your gaze but stood your ground. “I hate you, Dazai.” You curled your arms around your chest, keeping the distance between you. “I always will.”

For all his confidence, Dazai’s expression momentarily fell, like he’d expected you to welcome him back with loving arms, grovel at his feet with apologies you didn’t mean. Then, the insincere smile was back, drawing you in with revolting sweetness. “I’ve searched for you for decades. I thought you were dead—”

“I don’t care.”

“—Only to find out you’d been running from me this entire time.” Dazai invaded your circle once more, and his fingers pinched your jaw, studying you raptly. There was just a foot of air between you, the cool heat exchanged in your breaths. You ignored every muscle in your body that was relying on memory, wishing to do all the things that it had once done. “Did those years together mean nothing? Were you not to be my everlasting companion?”

You swatted his hand away, a million little fires starting along every point where your skin met. But no matter how beautiful he was, how calm those saccharine words of his made you feel, you knew the mercilessness that he was capable of. “I never made that choice of my own volition. You took it away from me.”

His eyes flashed before he retracted, complacent. “I gave you what you asked for. A life more than the one you had. And then I gave you everything I had left to give.”

“Your apology means nothing to me. Get the hell out of here.” Your words lacked the bite that you’d wished for, not sure you had the courage to push him into a fight. His strength outweighed yours by centuries; you had enough sense not to challenge that.

Dazai blinked, and then laughed, jeering, without any sense of real humor. “You misunderstand. I’m not apologizing.” He tucked a hand back into his coat, regarding you with serious disdain as he sunk back, the outline of his dark clothes blending with the evening. “I never regretted the decision I made that night.”

You stared at him, blinking, before retracting and matching his heartless laugh with one of your own.

It was as if you’d never been parted at all. The unpleasant decades thinned into one small period, an insignificant point in time that, now, seemed nothing more than a development to your character. “Fine. I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dazai. I wanted to be rid of you, and I was. Your insincere words don’t matter to me anymore.”

His jaw tightened, and you stared each other down, searching for any glimpse of the familiar figure you’d used to love. Undeniably, he was there. Those eyes of his were just the same. The soft words he used for you and only you had never changed.

Yet, just as those sweet parts of him were as comforting as ever, the ugly parts of him were there as well. You remembered his cruelty, his gift of manipulation, and you pushed him away, never again wanting to be strung in that web.

Dazai did nothing but blink as you withdrew, standing straight, pulled taut by a marionette cord. “Is this the life you intend to live now? This half-hearted existence where you befriend mortals that will wither without you, to be engaged to a man you will never spend eternity with? Pitiful, really.”

For just a moment, you’d been so caught up in Dazai that the man who’d loved you with all of his heart had vanished into the atmosphere. It was as if, somehow, you’d forgotten that Atsushi was there at all.

Guilt overwhelmed you.

That man, the sweet, kind man who had become your saving grace, was at risk because of your carelessness. Dazai was too smart not to have taken cautious measures, and you knew he’d learned everything there was to know about your life before intervening.

It made sense why he’d appeared now of all times. It was the perfect opportunity to ruin everything you’d loved for good, reducing you to the whimpering mess that had accepted him in the first place.

He'd made you; he’d known you; he’d loved you for decades. If anyone knew how to break you, it was Dazai Osamu, and that was the thing that scared you the most.

“I fully intend to turn him,” you said, hating the way your voice broke on a singular syllable, making you seem uncertain of the decision you’d made nearly a year ago. “Though I appreciate your concern. I’ll be perfectly happy this way.”

The comment didn’t faze Dazai, who grinned, his eyes burning with a fire you’d never forget, a sort of glee that only transpired from evil. “I should kill him before that happens, shouldn’t I?” His teeth gleamed in the candlelight, two long fangs slipping over his lips with threatening causality. The points were even more severe in the lighting. “I’ll be sure to savor in the taste as I rip his throat out.”

The image was sickening, a gruesome thought that made your old panic reignite. You schooled your lips into nothing but a line, knowing that Dazai could detect even the smallest change in your features.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve managed to control yourself so well.” He went on, mocking you with every second that passed. “After three years, did I hear? I admit, I was having trouble listening over the band.” He tilted his head, studying you, searching deep into your consciousness for an answer that would satiate him. “You’ve never been able to resist your hunger before. What changed?”

You knew better than to underestimate him and stood taller.

“I’m not the same person I was when I was with you, and I never want to be her again.” You closed your eyes, looking away.

“This isn’t the life I envisioned for you a century ago.”

“My life is not yours to craft. I’m not some doll you can bend to your will.” Finally, you reached out to him, wrapping your hands around his own. His skin was cold, dead, void of any blush from the stolen blood in his veins. You were one word away from begging, pleading with him, even as you stood your ground. “Just don't kill him, Osamu. I’d never forgive you, and that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to come back to you.”

The scowl twitched ever-so-slightly as something in his eyes flashed. His name on your lips had always been his greatest weakness, and you could see him thinking hard. “For once, my love, you’re wrong. That’s not what I came here for.”

You stared, puzzled, before dropping his hand and frowning. “Then what are you here for?”

“I was looking for you, yes,” he admitted with a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve been looking for you for years, and it is by mere coincidence that I found you here.” A cheer sounded inside the house from a toast. You wished that you were in there, warm, where all of this was but a nightmare. “As happy as I am to see that you’re alive and well, I refuse to compete with someone who turns you into everything you are not. If you’re so much happier without me, then who am I to stand in the way?”

“I’m supposed to believe that?” you scoffed.

You’d be a fool to believe that was any more than an obvious lie, that Dazai’s motives were pure of heart. He had never been loud about his jealousy, but he’d killed every lover you’d ever dared to take, leaving you alone with no one but him for comfort.

Dazai had always refused you even one outlet of happiness, even when he’d had other lovers of his own, had brought his one-night affairs to your shared home. The place where you slept in the same bed, fucked on most every surface imaginable had been tarnished with decisions that he’d never be able to undo.

Your gaze hardened. It didn’t matter anymore. With lives that never ended, vampires weren’t known for their monogamy. You were naïve to think that a man like Dazai would give that to you.

“I mean it, Dazai.” You shoved away the vile memories from the forefront of your mind, wanting them to stay just that – memories. They would not become a repetition of the past. “If you kill him, I’ll burn you to ashes. Then, I’ll step into the flames myself.”

“Ah, but wouldn’t that be such a lovely way to go? Tossed into the flame by the very woman I care for most dearly, reunited only moments later in death.” He seemed too fascinated by the idea, his gaze faraway as if wondering what could possibly push you to that breaking point.

“Hell has a special place for you, Dazai,” you said, disgusted. “Somewhere far, far away from me.”

He laughed darkly. “Oh, how wrong you are. If I am the devil himself, as so many say that I am, then I’ll ensure we spend every moment in the flames together.”

Your lip curled, and you pushed him back in abhorrence, ignoring the tug in your heart that wanted to do everything but. You hated him, you loved him, you never wanted to see him again, you wished he’d stay by your side forever.

Nothing was more dangerous than the allure of fond memories. It seemed even those could lead you to turn a blind eye to the horrors that had been unleashed in the very city you inhabited.

You exhaled. There had to be a line in the sand, a point that you could never pass.

“Please, Dazai. Let me go.” His very presence had already put a kink in your future plans, and if he stayed any longer, you weren’t sure how much damage he’d cause. “Things can never go back to the way they were. I don’t want them to.”

“I don’t either,” he promised, nodding sincerely. “You’ll be rid of me once I make sure that this is what you really want. Who would I be if I watched you lock yourself into a marriage with a man you can never love more than you loved me? To watch you live a life reduced to hiding in the shadows, pretending you were never there at all?”

The arrogant bastard.

“I do love Atsushi more than I ever loved you,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster, your eyes full of flames, unrelenting. That man was waiting for you downstairs, probably worried out of his mind. You refused to play any more games. “Loving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. It was a mistake to let you turn me. I regret all of it.”

Dazai’s lips curled, his gums exposed as he snarled. “Ah, but mistakes are your specialty, aren’t they? You’ve made even more in my absence.”

You said nothing, tired of already falling into the same routine with him. The same old song and dance, taking you back to a time when all you had was him, a time you never wanted to go back to again. The exchange of cruel words was more familiar than your own last name.

“I should be on my way to my room. Sunrise is fast approaching, and I won’t be taking any risks, now that I know what I have to look forward to.” He bowed his head, though you could see his careless smirk, filling you with an irrepressible anger. “I’ll be around.”

With that, you watched him turn and walk out the door, ruining the rest of your evening.

Dazai’s chin was covered in blood, clots drying together around his lips as he pulled away from the lifeless doll between you, the woman that had once been on her way to becoming a well-known actress. Now, she’d be found in a pile of her own blood, the liquid creating a sticky pool beneath her.

It was a sight you’d never tire of; Dazai the very product of his own misdeeds, looking forever the gruesome killer that he made himself out to be. He was most alluring this way, his fangs protruding over his lips, teeth-stained ruby red from the drink of eternal life.

Your adoration for him was most intense in moments like these, when blood became the one thing that bound you together.

“You are beautiful,” he said, shoving aside the corpse, her deadweight toppling onto the floor. “Everyone pales in comparison to you, my darling.” His fingers were soft around your jaw, bringing you closer, reducing the space between his own lips and yours. “I am eternally yours.”

You woke in the bed that you’d chosen to share with another, the one with a squeaky spring, so unlike the coffins you’d previously spent your days in. The room was completely dark, sun-proofed to save you from your fatal weakness. It could have been the middle of the day, and you wouldn’t have known.

Atsushi was beside you, a flickering candle creating shadows on his features as he read through his reports. It’d become routine for him to be by your side as you slept, now that you didn’t fear the sun slipping through cracks on the boards.

It wasn’t as much time as you would’ve liked together, being on such different schedules, but you made it work as best you could. Atsushi often went into work with puffy eyes from sleepless nights, or you fumbled around the house, bored while the whole city slept.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes full of concern. His hand inched across the bed to hold your own. “You haven’t been yourself since yesterday evening.”

You hated that he’d noticed, even though it was his job to do so. It was wrong to keep secrets from the man you loved, even more when you were to be married in just a few months.

Still, you were reluctant to say anything on the matter, certain that you could deal with Dazai on your own. You’d mentioned him to Atsushi only once, and it was through vague details that gave the impression you were in too much pain to talk about it. Like the sweet man he was, Atsushi had accepted it, and he had never once forced the words from your mouth.

You owed him nothing, but it felt wrong to keep your history with Dazai a secret from him. Especially now. Especially when Dazai, who was a loose cannon on his own, had never been very rational when you were around.

“I’m fine.” You sat up in the bed, maneuvering closer to the side where Atsushi was, his legs spread out in front of him. He was wearing casual clothes and seemed scrubbed clean from a bath. It must have been later than you thought. “Just a weird dream is all.”

“I didn’t know vampires had dreams.” Atsushi went back to his reports.

That was because you’d never told him. You rarely had dreams, and when you did, they were more like memories. Or some prophetic, horrible vision that you’d learn to ignore. Nothing pleasant, like when you were human.

“What time is it?”

“About eight. Sun should be down by now, I haven’t checked. I’ve been working—there seems to be an increased amount of crime this week. I don’t know who came into town, but they’ve got an itch for trouble.”

“It’s not a vampire, is it?” you asked, instantly feeling nauseous. Dazai had no qualms about making a spectacle of killing humans. He’d leave a string of bodies like a signature, knowing you’d recognize his mark.

Atsushi snorted. “No, I think I’d see the signs. Just some regular guy.”

You weren’t convinced. Dazai knew how to hide his tracks and make it seem like anything but a vampire, but you convinced yourself to keep quiet. If Atsushi had even a suspicion about Dazai, he’d go after him, and you didn’t want to see what would happen if he did.

For both your sake and Atsushi’s, you hoped that he was right about this.

“Okay.” You threw the covers off the bed, putting yourself together with the clothes you’d strewn across the room. Atsushi’s eyes remained on the paper, ever the savior of the city he lived in. It was admirable, really, even if his work took some fraction of your time with him away. “I’m going to go out, Atsushi. I’m starving.”

“Want me to come?” he asked, finally looking up, much too eager. He was always so willing to stand by as you clamped your jaws into rodents, feeding off the unwanted pests that lingered the streets.

It was disgusting. You knew that your diet to him, and to all the other humans, was noble. It was repentance for all the horrid sins you’d committed at your lowest point.

To vampires, it meant you were rejecting your nature, trading your gift for a chance to thinly grasp at the cord of humanity you’d never truly held at all. It was abhorrent and shameful.

“No,” you said, certain that if anyone saw you feed on a rat that evening, you wouldn’t be able to recover. How Atsushi could stand to be with you after that display of events was beyond your comprehension. “I need to clear my head.”

“Okay.” Sometimes, you wondered if he’d ever doubted you at all. He was always understanding of each rejection, each carefully chosen word, no matter how harsh they were. “Will you be back quickly?”

“Of course.” With that you smiled, never wanting to waste the precious hours you had with your fiancée before the sun rose. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Atsushi kissed you before blowing out the candle and laying his head down. “I’m going to take a nap. I’ve been working on this all afternoon.”

“See you later.” You watched as he tucked himself into the bed you’d just left, waving at you lazily from the covers.

You swallowed down the sharp pang in your chest, looking away from him as you left the room, into another that was bathed in moonlight.

Really, you were content with your, but the arrangement between you and Atsushi was growing dismal. While you made it work, you always had, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you’d never be able to accompany him on daylight ventures, confined to your midnight prison.

You lost your head as you traveled through the dark streets, the city busy with nightlife now that the sun was far beyond the horizon. As usual, there were all kind of people out and about, the rich and poor, the young and old, the good and the bad. And you, the worst of all, the one pretending to fit right in with the rest of them.

After a young couple, not much older than Atsushi, crossed the road, you slunk down into an abandoned alley, bending yourselves into the shadows like the nightly creature you were. You heard the rats scurrying about before you could even spot them, your supernatural hearing so much more attuned to subtle sounds.

With a face, you walked to the hub of rats, your speed much quicker than any of their tiny legs. One particular animal looked back at you, intrigued against its very nature, holding a piece of garbage between its small human-like hands.

You took the rat by the neck, staring into its beady eyes as you plucked it from the ground like a dandelion. The creature looked back at you so helplessly that you almost felt guilty for freeing it from its meaningless existence. Without thinking, you bit into its flesh, draining the rodent dry. The fur was rough against your tongue, disgusting as always as the strands got caught in your teeth.

It wasn’t enough. What little blood you had gained from the animal was never enough to sustain the bloodlust that had increased tenfold since Dazai stepped back into your life.

With a sideways glimpse down the alley, you plucked another rat from the gutter, remembering why you were destroying your own dignity in such a way.

“You’ve made some concerning decisions lately, but this certainly takes the cake.”

With the rat still thrashing around your lips, you glanced up at the man lingering down the alley, his tone cruel and mocking. You continued to suck the last bit of blood from the rodent before tossing the body aside, meeting Dazai’s eyes.

“Why do you care?” you asked, and though you were still starved and lightheaded, you would draw your hunt to a conclusion. You would only embarrass yourself further with Dazai’s keen stare watching your every move.

“I’d wondered why you seemed so weak.” He tossed a disgusted look towards the rats scurrying through the trash, their plump bodies dragging thick tails behind them. “I see, now.”

“Spare me the lecture. I swore I’d never feed from another human, and I’ve never broken my vow.” A rat ran past you, unafraid, even after you’d just killed another member of its clan. The long tail hit your ankle, and you cringed, to Dazai’s satisfaction.

“You’ll get yourself killed. For a vampire of your age, you should be much stronger than this.” He took a step towards you, cornering you in the alley. “Now, you’re a threat to no one.”

“Then, I will die. Something I’m surprised you haven’t done already.”

Dazai was silent, his eyes hard. For all of his promises of the threats that lie out there, you couldn’t spot another but him. There were dangerous vampires in the world, you knew that better than anyone, but he’d always be the one you feared the most.

“Will you continue to torment me for another night?” you sighed wearily, wiping the blood from your chin with a handkerchief. “Your very presence exhausts me.”

Dazai, irritatingly, lit a fire deep in your gut, increasing your hunger to lengths you hadn’t felt in years. You could smell his blood from where you stood, the ambrosia that you’d never tire of. It was a dessert so unlike anything you’d tasted as a human, and you hated that he was tempting you with it now.

Your vision flashed with images of you sinking your fangs into his shoulder, draining him of every last drop as you lost yourself into the man that was Dazai Osamu.

Dazai eyed you carefully, dragging his gaze down to your chest, across your body, back to the blood-stained mouth that remembered too fondly what it was like to taste him. “You still wear the ring I gave you, hovering delicately over your heart.”

You’d forgotten; or you just thought he’d never notice. You’d hidden it under layers of clothing, but still, it had broken free. “A reminder of my past mistakes. It has nothing to do with sentimental value.”

He hummed, considering twirling it around his index finger before he thought better of it. “If that’s the case, why haven’t you turned another companion? Is it not for the hope that we might return to another one day?”

You hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten so close, close enough to touch you. It became hard to focus, even as he kept a respectable distance, letting you retain a semblance of control.

“Atsushi clings to his human life as I did. I will never turn him against his will.” You stood taller, even as you refused to look into his brown irises, to see the mockery that was pushed back at you. “When the moment is right, only then will I do so. That’s something you’d never understand.”

He laughed. “You’ll continue with this narrative, will you?”

You said nothing, staring at the bodies of dead rats that would soon begin to decay. Let him find amusement in the choices you’ve made.

“Sweetheart,” Dazai said, his voice softening with the tone you’d never been able to resist. Your heart twisted, your forehead wrinkling as you kept your eyes firmly on the ground. “Don’t hurt yourself in this way. These vermin will not sustain you.”

“I won’t hunt with you, Dazai. I won’t kill anyone. Don’t try to deceive me into coming back to you.”

“That’s not what I was suggesting.” Before you could discern his actions, Dazai had bit into his wrist, opening a vein as blood poured down his forearm.

You froze.

Fangs had dropped over your bottom lip without a thought, your pupils dilating with the desire of blood. The scent was hard to resist, a sweetness that had been placed on this Earth only for you, handed over from the Devil in an attempt to bring you furthest from God. Though, that might have been all wrong... maybe your god was standing right before you.

Your eyes glued to the fountain of life, and you began to doubt your restraint. It’d been so long.

“Dazai—” you tried to step away, but your feet were cemented, buried under the cobblestones of the dimly lit street. You were a stronger woman than this, and certainly a vampire of your age would not collapse at the sight of blood in the way you were. “Stop it.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. This isn’t what I want at all.”

You finally tore your gaze away, taking a few more steps back into the alley as you regained control of yourself, sick with a yearning for him. Dazai was playing a torturous game, and you refused to be the victim.

The vein closed, and Dazai watched you curiously, but he made no move to reopen the wound. Your irrational thoughts began to calm, and though you could still smell the blood that circled through his body, warm from a recent kill, your resolve was now stronger.

“I can’t stand to see you like this.” His words were hard, disappointed. “I won’t leave until I know you’re safe from harm. Even a mortal could end you with the weakened state you’re in.”

“Safe from harm?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. “I’m in no danger here. I’ve been fine without you for fifty years, and I will continue to be fine without you for the rest of eternity.”

His voice deepened, eyes narrowing into a glare as he watched you retreat. “Don’t pretend to be a fool. Your very position with me put you at risk. You betrayed vampires even older than me, and they won’t stop until you’re dead.”

You exhaled, looking up at the stars before dropping your attention back to Dazai. “I don’t think you actually care. You told me that you loved me, and time and time again, you failed me. You left me there, Dazai. I had no choice but to betray them; they were going to kill me.”

“I thought they already had.” He reached out to you, curling his hands around your chin, desperate and wanting and so many things that you had never seen him. “Don’t you understand? I thought you were already dead. I never would have left if I’d known the truth. I’d never think of escaping without you.”

Your breath caught, and while you couldn’t stand to believe him, you felt yourself giving in a little more, succumbing to Dazai each time you crossed his path. Still, you removed his hands from your face, forcing yourself to be a little stronger, to put up those steely walls until he left your life once and for all. “I don’t trust you, Osamu, and you don’t trust anyone but yourself. There’s no reason for us to be speaking at all.”

His jaw tightened, but he let you go, straightening with a frustration he didn’t deserve.

“I’m going home to my fiancée—the man who has never put conditions on his affection. Please, stay as far away from me as you can.”

You shoved past him, shaking with nerves. Though he was stronger, he stumbled back, watching you go with an emotion you couldn’t discern.

PART II

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

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lunarmoves · 1 year

Text

for evermore

summary: you laugh—loud and carefree—and they have never wished so desperately before to be human. if only to love you for the rest of their life.

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: gender neutral reader, possessive (obsessive) behavior, ruminations of a robot, dark thoughts ahead tbh (human mortality, fragility, death), oblivious reader if u squint, non-sexual intimacy, forehead kisses, mentions of blood and gore, moon is glitch'd, sun too tbh but its more subtle, sun's pov is like. sm lighter and then moon's is right out of an mcr song, unreliable narrator

a/n: this fic is inspired by @bamsara's iconic solar lunacy. sun&moon in this are very much deeply, irrevocably in love with u, but! when taken from the reader's pov, u can interpret that as you like! hope yall enjoy my silly little 4 am thoughts LMAO hope they make sense

word count: 2k

ao3 link

One of the kids has a bit of a crush on you.

It’s cute, really. Sun watches the way little Riley holds out a drawing to you—two stick figures holding hands together in a field of flowers colored lavender and cerulean. It’s clear that it’s supposed to be you and Riley, both of you happy as can be. You smile as you take the drawing, admiring the care Riley put into every stroke of their crayons.

“It’s us!” Riley says proudly, tiny fingers gripping onto your arm that holds the paper. Bright eyes look up eagerly at you for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” you reply with all the care and adoration you can muster into your voice. Your free hand reaches over to smooth down the hair on Riley’s head. “Oh, you’re so talented! Look how cute we are!”

Riley beams, bright and happy, and Sun thinks it’s so wonderful that you’re able to get along well with the kids. He twirls a crayon around in his hand, idly spinning it across metal joints and silicon, then returns to doodling across the paper in front of him. Long limbs have pretzeled their way into sitting at one of the kid’s tables not too far from your own.

“When I grow up,” Riley continues in a steadfast voice, “I’m gonna marry you. And we’ll get a biiiiig house with lotsa puppies! And kitties!”

“Lotsa puppies and kitties, huh?” you ask as you set the drawing down on the table and pull Riley closer so you can set them on your lap. You pinch at their chubby little cheek. “You ready for that much responsibility, squirt?”

Riley nods. Sun rests his chin on his palm, propped up on one of his legs. The hand holding his crayon continues to doodle. “Yeah! We’re gonna feed ‘em, and we’re gonna walk ‘em, and dress ‘em up!”

You hum out a response, but by then Sun is lost in his thoughts. It’s cute, he tells himself again, gaze not really seeing what’s before him as he glances at you and Riley. Humans and their little dreams. Their bonds and their emotions. The freedom they hold within their grasps. Silly, silly humans. Silly, silly, silly.

Sun looks down at his drawing. You and him, standing in front of a little house. Free as can be to live under a bright blue sky with puffy, cotton-candy clouds. He wonders what that is like. To live with someone so closely. Being there when they wake up and when they fall asleep. Seeing them at their highs and their lows. He wonders if that is even feasible, for someone like him. The freedom he dreams about rests just beyond the tips of his artificial fingers. He tilts his head to the side and releases the tight grip he has on his crayon.

Silly robot, he thinks to himself.

Then, he folds up the drawing and stuffs it into his pocket.

The pizzaplex, above all else, is a cold place.

Sun knows its lights are too bright and its colors too jarring at times. It’s something he has grown used to—the only thing he has ever known, really. He is not exposed to much, with how limited his boundaries are and how restrictive the access he has to the internet is. You give him new things to ponder about. You blow away the coldness like it’s nothing. And he thinks the warmth you bring along with you is something he has perhaps always craved, deep inside. Him, modeled after the sun. Ironic, he thinks.

You play around with the children as he tends to a checkout by the door. It’s quick work, it usually is, and he gives his regular old smile to the parents who pick up their kids and press kisses to their scrunched up little faces in greeting.

What a concept—kissing, that is. An action done by humans to express some of their pesky little emotions. He waves away the parents and closes the door, white gaze falling on you as you laugh while you chase a few kids around. The daycare was what introduced him to all the idiosyncrasies humans have—it is the only form of contact he has with people. And it is the only way he really learns about certain things he wouldn’t have known about otherwise.

He thinks back to Riley. He thinks about the rings he sees on humans’ fingers and the terms of endearment they call each other. He watches you spin around and lunge after another giggling kid who squeals and barely evades your grasp. You laugh—loud and carefree—then make eye contact with him for a split second. And Sun feels something strange in his chassis. Something that lights his insides on fire and makes his wires buzz in fervor. Maybe this is the warmth he’s meant to hold—that he is meant to be. His rays do a little spin.

Then Sun does what he does best. He swoops in, snatching you up from the ground and yelling out something-or-other about kidnapping you for his very evil, very nefarious plans. All in a day’s work, at the daycare. You smile up at him—so small, so tiny in his hold—and he thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing it again and again and again.

Moon thinks about the stars often.

He wonders what they look like, if they match the designs that dot his hat and pants. He thinks about you, standing under the night sky. Do you like the stars you see? Do you come to the daycare and compare the artificial ones plastered to the ceiling to the ones you experience every night? Moon doesn’t know if it is enough—if it will ever be enough.

He glides around the daycare on his cable, keeping a watchful eye on the slumbering kids below. You had been subjected to Riley’s grabby hands as they refused to go down without you by their side. So now you lay next to them, idly stroking their hair as they suckle on their thumb and snooze close to your chest.

Trapped now, he’d told you when he saw Riley latched onto your leg earlier. Bedtime for you. And you simply gave him a defeated smile and caved to the whims of the child.

Moon ponders about what that must be like—laying so close to another. Would you be as comfortable with him—with his body made of unyielding metal? Would you let him soothe you to sleep with the music box in his chest chiming out a gentle song that would waft through the air? Or maybe you would prefer another human. Hmm, another.

He remembers the kiss you had pressed to Riley’s forehead at their insistence and his fingers reach up to rub thoughtfully at his own. Pesky little emotions. His red gaze always finds itself trailing back to you, lingering on your form through the rest of naptime. And when the lights flick back on, he thinks that his time with you is always too short for him to bear.

It’s the middle of the night, long after you’ve gone home, and Moon stands in front of an arcade machine that’s turned off. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen, fuzzy red eyes lighting the space up in a hellish glow. One of his hands passes across his mouth smoothly—the sharp teeth that make up his grin. And he thinks back to the parents kissing their children on the cheeks. He thinks about all the ‘sweetheart’s, and the ‘baby’s, and the ‘love’s. He thinks about you.

Moon wonders what it would be like to be human.

To just—feel everything, all the time. To hear his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t have a heart—never will—but he wonders what it would be like to have one. He’d give you his heart without batting an eye, he thinks. Would you do the same for him?

He ruminates on what it would be like to hold your hand. To feel the plushness of your skin against the firmness of his metal. To look and see the difference between the two. Unnatural, he frowns. Disconnected. Two puzzle pieces that don’t fit together—not in the way he would like. He doesn’t belong to you and the thought strikes him hard enough to frazzle his wires. He imagines you with someone better suited that can live with you, grow old with you. Someone that is not him—not like him, broken and robotic as he is.

And Moon wonders if this is what it feels like to die. To have the wires ripped from his body and turned into dust. Something nasty festers itself in his hardware, sears through him like a vicious piece of malware.

He stares down at his hands, fingers slim and painted blue. And he sees them doused in ruby red. He wonders what it is like to have it running through tiny, tiny veins. So fragile. He wonders what it is like to hold your skin between his fingers and feel it rip into shreds. His grin tightens and he shakes his head minutely. He looks back up at his reflection and a gleam of purple flashes across his pupils before he seizes it and locks it away.

Eclipse stands in the middle of an empty daycare and watches as you enter through the large, castle doors.

It’s you, you’re here. They missed you so much, you were gone for so long you were gone for so, so long. But you’re here, and you’re safe, and you’re you.

You freeze when you notice them—looking at you with a too wide smile and too sharp teeth. Their head tilts at you and before they can even process their actions, they’ve already taken several long strides up to your form. Because you’re here, with them, so close they can touch you.

You’re looking up at them with an expression they can’t quite decipher. But they know it must be adoration! It has to be, it must be, what else would it be? And they lean down and reach out two of their hands to grasp at your smaller shoulders. They can feel your heart beating through their fingers.

“I love you!” Eclipse chimes out, hunkered down over your smaller figure. Casting you in their deep, deep shadow. And then they curl down to press the gleaming metal of their grin against your forehead. Again and again and again. I love you I love you I love you so much it hurts what are you doing to us don’t you know this hurts? You smile (you’re smiling, right? You have to be!) at them—confused, sincere maybe—your fingers balled into fists. And Eclipse thinks that if they were to dig through their software, through lines and lines of code, they’d find a little version of you there. Infecting them—constantly there with your kindness and your adoration. Their grin twitches, their eyes upturn. “Marry me!”

You say nothing, only look up at them, but that’s okay! That’s okay, it’s okay it’s okay, right? They are bubbling and boiling alive with the fire that runs through their wires. And they have never wished so desperately before to be human. So they can be with you—outside, under the stars, under the sun the real sun—and hold you, and treasure you until the end of time until you both die.

They think about you and them, standing in front of a little house in a field of lavender and cerulean flowers. They think about waking up with you and going to sleep with you. They think about the softness of your skin and the brightness of your smile. The blood in your veins that can so easily spill over their fingers.

And they know they are not human. They know you will grow old and you will inevitably move on—leaving them for a place they cannot reach.

But still, they think, they will love you until the end of your life. And until the end of theirs.

#i cant draw and solar lunacy made me insane so this happened #solar lunacy #dca x reader #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf sb #running on fumes rn #i can smell colors bro #sun x reader #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #dca #dca fanfic #fnaf eclipse x reader #fnaf eclipse #eclipse x reader #btw i can take this down if bam wants sdksjfhf no harm no foul

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the-whumpening · 2 months

Note

consider: whumpee who gets sent to a robot factory, forcefully converted into a cyborg, and then sold like any other robot, with no one but the whumpee aware that theyre actually human

Oh man, anon, you are a non after my own heart <3 I’ve been thinking about robo-whump lately, so this is a perfect excuse to play around with it! (Sidenote: I’ve had Fallout on the brain recently as well, and this gives me so many ideas for Vault-Tec and synth fics. Vault-Tec is just rife with whump potential)

Also, please know that it took all my restraint to not turn whumpee into like a coffee maker or something lol

—————————————————————

CW: robot whumpee, dehumanization, brief references to gore maybe?

—————————————————————

“We just got this one today—fresh from the factory!”

Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open. Or at least, they wanted to. They were awake, but their eyes seemed fused shut. Did they forget their eye drops again?

“Can we get a demo before we buy it? I wanna see it in action first.”

Neither of these voices seemed familiar. Who the hell—I didn’t leave the door unlocked, did I?

A surge of electricity crackled up their spine, but they couldn’t scream. Their mouth, too, refused to budge. A screen flickered to life, and with it, their vision returned.

Bright—too bright—brightness everywhere. It burned their . . . eyes? Not eyes. More like their optic nerve was set ablaze, bypassing the eyes altogether.

Faint memories tugged at the edges of their consciousness. It had been this bright before. Before they went to sleep. Before they woke up here. But where were they before that? All they can seem to recall is an assortment of sensations: the blinding light, the overwhelming stench of copper and steel, the ripping and tearing of flesh. Their own howls of pain, before they suddenly couldn’t scream anymore.

It took a few painful moments before they could process the blur of light and colors. A man—no, two men. One with a blue polo and a yellow name tag. One in a gray suit.

They were looking at Whumpee expectantly.

“Isn’t it supposed to . . . do something?” Gray suit asked.

Blue polo fiddled with device in his hand, and another sickening crack of electricity yanked Whumpee’s body into motion against their will.

Hey! They tried to cry out. What’s going on?!

Whumpee stepped down from their platform onto the sales floor. Their knees bent, lowering them down to the grubby multicolored carpet. Usually, this low-pile, high-traffic stuff rubbed their skin all wrong, leaving angry red rashes on their shins. But now . . . they couldn’t feel it at all. In fact, they couldn’t remember what that scrape felt like anymore, or when they’d experienced it. Their body settled into a respectful kneel, the only sensation a tugging pain throughout their muscles.

Their head tilted up to face their future owner.

“Hello, Master,” a synthesized voice piped out. Not Whumpee’s voice, not from their throat. They weren’t even sure they could feel their throat anymore; otherwise, they were sure it’d be raw from screams and thick with tears. “How may I serve you?”

#yes it's best buy #ruby replies #anon ask #whumpblr #whump writing #whump #writeblr #whump community #rublewriting #robot whumpee

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alohastyles-x · 3 months

Text

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠 - 1

A Dark Disney Retelling of Snow White and the Huntsman ft. The Winter Soldier as The Huntsman.

Dark Disney Retellings Masterlist | Synopsis

Warnings: This story will contain graphic descriptions of torture, violence and gore, possible smut scenes (undecided), cursing, brief mentions of reader being nearly emaciated as a result of torture.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Note: ahhhh it's here!! I can't wait to unfurl this project for you guys! <3 There are rough Russian translations at the end, I'm sorry if it's innacurate lol, I banked on google translate for this one. Enjoy my loves!

The cold metal erupted a fire against your raw skin, the red marks from the lashings earlier a grotesque sight against the stark white of the room. Your skin had attempted to stitch itself together, but the process was slow and painful, as you could feel each individual cell regenerating into flesh.

And yet not a sound escaped you. Your life depended on the silence of your movements.

There weren’t many rules in Hydra’s camp, but the most important was that you kept quiet, silent during it all. How else were you supposed to become a master assassin if you couldn’t silently handle pain? Their methods were unorthodox, but damn did they work. The first time you screamed, a volt of electricity ran through your body, locking your muscles in a painful grip. They continued, until your screams turned to groans, then turned to silent tears.

It had only been six months since your father had told you he enlisted you in this program. For the country, he had said. For your people. You wondered often if he knew the pain you were subjected to here. You’d like to think he didn’t, for your sanity’s sake.

“Up, now.” One of the guards' voices echoed as he entered the room your cage was held in. You stood determined, despite the pain that erupted through your muscles as you moved. Quiet as a mouse, you held your head high, awaiting whatever order followed.

“Good girl,” another voice said, a short stocky man entering behind the guard. You didn’t recognize him, which meant he was an operative of Hydra, sent to check in on your training. He smirked as he looked you over. Your skin had turned alabaster white from the lack of sun and the cocktail of chemicals they injected daily. Your jet black hair was stringy, dehydrated from the lack of moisture. Your skin laid over your bones like paper, weakening by the days from the lack of food and intense physical training. You resembled a shell of your old self, which is exactly what Hydra wanted.

“I hear you’ve been doing well,” his accent was different from the guards and trainers in the facility. He was English. His voice was deceptively gentle thanks to his accent, unlike the harsh Romanian and Russian the other guards spoke.

“That’s good. It means we’re doing something right.” The smirked returned, making your skin crawl. He paused, for what reason you weren’t entirely sure. A beat passed before he decided to fill you in.

“I have news, dear. You’re ready for the next phase. See, phase 1 was all about your endurance, and your initiation into a nearly immortal existence. We had to prepare you and your body for the job of a silent killer, a silent operative, if you will. You’ve proven beyond a doubt you can handle the kind of work you will be used for. Now we move to phase 2. You’ve heard the stories of our current Winter Soldier, yes?”

How could you not. You were reminded of him constantly, compared to him with every task you failed or completed. Of course he had an advantage over you- a robotic limb and a manipulated brain that could be controlled with words. They refused to do that to you. They wanted you pristine and willing to submit. The true feminine version of him in all accords except one. The very first night you were here, they had brought you into the Red Room, a multipurpose training room in this facility. It started with an operation, ending one of the feminine qualities about you. They didn’t want to risk the effects the chemicals would have on any offspring you may one day produce. Later the room was used for training on grace and your ability to move in silence like in a ballet. The irony was not lost on you.

You stayed silent to the English operatives' questions as you’ve been instructed to do. It was yet another test. One you passed with ease.

“Wow. You all truly have trained her well. I’m impressed. Anyway, darling, Phase 2 is now about strength- mental and physical. I’m not sure if you’ve looked in the mirror lately,” he paused to chuckle at his own humiliating joke. “But you’re not exactly buff. Far from it. Phase two will be about returning your strength and power back to you. The torment is over, you can rest now. You will be given a training room with equipment to use at your will to regain your muscle, while enduring mental tests to strengthen your mind, like puzzles. You like puzzles don’t you?”

It sounded too good to be true. You knew better than to give into the false hope of an easier training phase. Either the operative truly had no knowledge of the camp you were in, or he took pleasure into tormenting you even more with the promise of a release from torment. You assumed it was the latter.

He continued on with the details of your next training phase, as you stood silently, looking straight ahead. The guards behind him had a nasty smirk as he spoke. There was no way the operative was this clueless, you decided, which led to a stray tear falling onto your cheek at the thought of what new torment you were about to endure.

“Don’t cry dear, this is all for the greater good. You’ll see.” He said, reaching through the bars to place a calloused thumb over your tear. His grip was firm as he wiped it away, and it took everything in you to stand completely still.

He left with a few words to the guards on how to initiate this next phase. When they were out of sight, you slunk down in the cage, curling into a fetal position. You had to find a way to escape. You knew you couldn’t take much more of whatever training they were about to give you.

It was that night that a plan formed in your mind, flawless in execution that was bound to work. It was a gift given from the gods above.

Midnight struck with an eerie silence that echoed across the base. The lock to your cage had been picked, the door left ajar. The room was empty, and the guards stationed outside of the door stood confused, wondering where you went.

“Subject 340 is missing, I repeat, subject 340 is missing,” the guard said into his mic, as he illuminated the room with the flashlight attached to his gun. The room was without a doubt empty. You had hid in the shadows behind the door, waiting for the guards to do their midnight check on you. As they entered the room, you slipped behind them through the door, taking off silently down the hall.

Red flashing lights and sirens erupted following the command of the base leader, yelling for every guard to be on the hunt. Your bare feet padded silently down the hall as you ran, using the red blinks as a guide. The hall slinked around into a centralized area, where you knew from your intelligence training that a group of guards would be stationed, waiting for you.

There was a small opening in the wall next to you- a vent. You slunk through, following the narrow hall until it opened up to another hallway. You weaved in and out of various halls and vents, making it closer and closer to the exit you needed.

Like a ghost in the night, you dodged guards, cameras, and motion sensors. It was rather easy, your small neglected frame helping to slip through the crawl spaces and vents without any evidence you were there.

Finally, you made it to the vent you knew would bring you to the outside. It was almost too easy, as you dove through, crawling until you made it to the other side. Popping out the vent, you winced at the cold air that blew through, and another siren began to blare. It was the breached siren. You hurried out into the cold, taking off to the direction of the treeline.

You were careful in how you stepped, ensuring footprints were not left behind you. It was a dance you knew all too well, mimicking the pattern you were taught in the Red Room.

In the end, it was their own tests and training that helped you escape under their noses.

“What do you mean you lost her?” Your father boomed, his voice echoing off the walls of his war room. His face was red with anger, as he stared down the Hydra operative who had come to give him the bad news. It should have been Alexander Pierce before your father, relaying the vital information. Instead, he sent a lowly operative, resorting to hiding in his compound like the weak coward he was. It was a trait your father despised- cowardice.

“That is all the information I have, sir.”

“Where is Pierce?” Your father demanded, slamming his hand on the table before him. The operative flinched slightly in response.

“To my knowledge, he is investigating her disappearance.”

Your father shook his head, mulling over what his next steps would be. Anger boiled through his veins. He warned them to keep a close eye on you. He knew your intelligence surpassed whatever they expected, and your determination would outrank whatever test they gave you. It was why they wanted you, and why he let you go. Your intelligence would one day outrank him if left uncontrolled, you were a threat to him and his position on the council. Hydra had succeeded so well with The Winter Soldier, he had no doubt they would succeed with you. It turns out he was wrong, and if there was one thing he despised more than cowardice, it was being wrong.

You, after months of training, left alone to do as you please terrified your father. He visibly paused as the thought erupted into a beautiful plan.

“Tell Pierce to send The Winter Soldier after her. He’ll find her faster than any of our men can combined. It’s the only way we can ensure she is found and returned… tell him by whatever means necessary.” Your father said, looking the operative in the eyes as he delivered his message firmly.

The unnamed hydra operative nodded, saluting your father before retreating from the room.

The operative now stood before Pierce, in his own war and council. room. He had delivered the news just as your father had given it to him. Pierce just looked at him with wild eyes, unsure he heard the operative clearly.

“He wants us to unleash the Winter Soldier on her? Does he know that means her fate is sealed once she comes into contact with him?” Pierce asked, eyeing the operative with a curious look. A man sending a killing machine after his own daughter did not sound right- not even to the head of Hydra.

“He said ‘by whatever means necessary’,” the operative replied.

Pierce nodded.

“Let’s go find him then.”

It was easy to find The Winter Soldier’s hide out this time around. He had resided in an apartment just north of the city. He lived simply, with skeletons of furniture decorating it. Pierce sat in the dark, awaiting his return from his day in the city.

He was no longer The Winter Soldier at this moment, his alter persona turned off. Right now, he was just James Buchanon Barnes, a Romanian citizen who lived a quiet life. He had gone to the markets, buying various fresh fruits and vegetables to use for a dinner he planned to make that night.

When he returned to his apartment, he sensed something was off before he even opened the door. It was his decades of training that led him to approach carefully, opening the door slowly and silently, before proceeding into the apartment.

He avoided the floor boards that creaked, setting the bag of fruits down as quietly as he could on the kitchen counter.

It was then he recognized why he felt the way he did. Alexander Pierce sat just beyond the kitchen wall, illuminated only by the lights from outside the window to the left of him. He had yet to see Bucky’s presence, which would give Bucky the upper hand had he wanted to attack.

Instead, he slunk around the corner of the kitchen into the dining room, catching Pierce’s attention.

“Ah! James! There you are.” Pierce said, his tone friendly. Bucky sat quietly before him, waiting for Pierce to get to why he was really here.

“We have a new mission for you.”

“For me or for the Winter Soldier?” Bucky asked, his voice tight. He hated the transition to and from the Winter Soldier. It left him in ruins, a bit more fucked up than he was before. Not to mention the mental switch with the final word spoken hurt like a bitch.

“I think you know the answer to that by now James.”

Bucky sighed. He wasn’t in a position he could refuse, bound by the spell of words. Pierce pushed forward a glass of whiskey before him, offering him an outlet of relief. Bucky reluctantly picked up the glass, knocking back the warm liquid with ease.

“Can you at least tell me the mission before the switch?” Bucky asked, hopeful for a little autonomy in the situation.

“You know I can’t do that either, James.” Pierce responded. He actually looked empathetic with his response.

Bucky lowered his head, waiting for Pierce to begin the cantation of words, waiting for the mental switch up into the Winter Soldier.

“Желаниe, pжавый,” The cantation began, a piercing sound echoing in Bucky’s mind.

“Семнадцать, рассвет, Печь,”

He grunted at the feeling erupting through his body.

“Девять, Доброкачественные, Возвращение домой, Один, грузовой вагон.”

Something snapped within Bucky’s psyche. He was no longer the gentle and calm James Buchanon Barnes. No. He was the silent ghost of an assassin.

“я готов отвечать”

He was The Winter Soldier.

Feedback is greatly appreciated <3 <3

#Bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #<33333 #alohastylesx #marvel #alohastylesx works #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfic #winter solider fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #Project Snow alohastylesx

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novelbear · 2 years

Text

spooky halloween prompts for your otp

scenarios

B playfully teasing A by putting fake spiders and bugs around the apartment. A falls for it every single time, yet laughs it off.

Watching youtube compilations of cute DIY Halloween costumes and quickly rushing to buy the needed materials online

Going to a haunted house and B having to cling to A the entire time

Or the two of them are just clinging to each other in fear the entire time

Buying costumes for each other without knowing what the other chose and wearing them to a party

A is too uncomfortable with horror movies and B respects that (even if they love them), so they settle for watching other Halloween classics without all of the gore or horror-like elements.

Halloween music blasting in the car at all times

Painting pumpkins together since they both can’t be bothered with the mess and time that comes with carving them

^ or maybe A just doesn’t trust B with sharp objects and comes up with another alternative that wouldn’t hurt their pride

Going into stores and playing with all the robotic displays

Having their first date at a Halloween-themed carnival or party

Meeting each other at a party after A accidentally spooks B with their costume.

Neither of the two enjoy Halloween, but they do take advantage of all the discounted candy in stores the minute the day is over and raid allll of the shops.

dialogue

"I thought we said we weren’t dressing up this year." “You’re just no fun.”

“Aw, don’t you look cute.” “Cute? No, this was supposed to be creepy!”

“You mixed the skittles and m&m’s as a prank?” “horrifying, right?”

“Put the chocolate bar down, i thought i told you those were for the kids!”

“Is this fitting right?” “You’re a ghost, it’s not like they’ll be able to tell if it doesn’t.”

“I bought this subscription because Hocus Pocus 2 is out. Get the popcorn and on the couch asap.”

“I don’t think I carved into this right...”

“Pink is not a Halloween color.” “Who said that?”

#otp prompts #writing prompts #imagine your otp #otp writing #writeblr #prompt list #halloween prompts#fall prompts #seasonal prompts #otp #dialogue prompts #fluff prompts

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m30wk1ttycat · 7 days

Text

stay?

warning, this contains: mentions of death, blood, gore pairing: newt x reader summary: you just lost a friend to a griever, and newt is trying his best to comfort you.

you were a runner - which newt hated, but he couldn't do much about it. being a runner had its risks. a lot of them. but a person can handle the deaths of people you've known most of your time here, blood, stress, anxiety and physical draining for a certain time. today seemed to be your breaking point, when your best friend was ripped to shreds by the griever's robotic claws. bones and organs that should've been hidden under his skin and muscles were revealed, leaving you to watch in shock as the griver tore off his limbs inbetween his agonizing screams.

when you made your way back into the glade, your legs gave up on you when you stepped foot on the grass. falling to your knees, you also burst into tears. newt was the first one to notice you.

he kneeled down infront of you, his hand making its way to your shoulder. "y/n? hey, hey- breathe, hm? in, out, come on."

your chest was heaving, still out of breath from running so fast. that, and the fact that the boy you've grown attached to was dead, somewhere in the maze, laying in a pool of his own blood, with detached limbs.

eventually, you calmed down. only to break down again when newt asked, "what- what's going on? what happened?"

he sighed, realizing you wouldn't be exactly able to tell him what happened. squeezing your shoulder, he said, "we don't have to talk about it, i promise. but i'm here if you want to talk about it, okay?"

you nod, looking up at him. "i'm sorry," you sob.

"no, no, no, don't be. c'mere," he whispered, pulling you into a quick hug - only if twenty minutes is considered quick. he looked at you again, holding you close to him as you sobbed into his shirt.

that night, newt offered to let you stay in his hut, just in case you didn't want to be alone. cuddled up against him, you still couldn't manage to tell him what it was that happened. newt didn't ask questions. he let the subject go - if you wanted to talk about it, you would on your own, if you didn't want to, he wouldn't force you to tell him. but everyone figured that something happened when the runner didn't ever come out of the maze. only that you were the only one who saw that something happen.

the next morning, you woke up, only to realize you slept in. while laying on newt's chest. your legs still hurt from yesterday, and your throat is sore from crying so much.

newt noticed you shift slightly, and he loosened his hold on you.

"morning, love," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"morning," you whisper back.

his voice was quiet, almost silent when he asked, "feeling better?"

you nod, "mhm. thank you."

"anything for you," newt said softly, "go back to sleep, okay?"

"what about the maze? i was supposed to run today."

"you're not running today. you slept in, anyway," he murmured, "i promise, i'll take care of everything. just relax."

"you'll stay, right?" you ask. you weren't sure why, but you needed the reassurance that he'd be there with you if you had a nightmare about the whole thing that happened yesterday. he always was, but you wanted him to say it. just to make sure.

"of course. always," he promised, pecking your forehead one last time before your drifted off to sleep again.

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forsaken-creations · 5 months

Text

Sacrifices Were Made

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Chapter 1 - The Beginning of The End

Next —————>

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Have you ever wanted one of the daycare attendants? Both? Maybe even more? A gender neutral reader full of nerve and desperation steps into an abandoned Fazbear Entertainment Testing Facility with the express purpose of looting. As it turns out, this may just be way more than they bargained for.

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Warnings: Mentions of a Corpse, Robot Gore, Generalized Horror

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At last, they were finally here. Their car pulling into the empty parking lot, their eyes couldn't help but track over to the abandoned building before them. The damn thing was practically withering away before their eyes. An older building, mostly an eggshell white with windows smashed in or outright boarded up. The barbed wire fencing that once kept this giant sealed away had been removed only a few months ago. When Fazbear Entertainment abandons something, and I mean REALLY abandons something, you know. They'll pull themselves away all at once. The security was the first to go, and the fencing was the last.

Though Y/N was careful all the same, after all, when it comes to Fazbear Entertainment you never know what hellscape they've left behind. So, jittering with a mix of excitement and anxiety, they slid out of their car. A quick hand reaching out to snatch the bag they'd packed for this. A flashlight, extra batteries, a taser, and that was just the things on their belt. How else were they supposed to break in and make it out unharmed? They pocketed their keys and were fairly quick to wander over to the building. Upon closer inspection, their guess had been right. An open, broken window. Well, it's a good thing they wore gloves this time, right?

This has been something they'd been planning for quite a while, their mind on their target as they carefully slid themself through the window. Y/N's goal to steal equipment, parts, and otherwise useful robotics was going to be a tricky but worthwhile endeavor. Hopefully, this place isn't just full of junk, rust, and murder machines. If they're lucky, all the old bots will be out of battery by now!

. . . The flickering light that still seems to be intact at the end of this hallway is slowly crushing that hope, as that definitely means there's some kind of old generator in here, but Y/N isn't about to back down now, that's what the taser is for. Maybe if they find it and turn it off they'll have an easier time here? Perhaps?

Regardless, they need to be searching for parts, and this main area doesn't seem to have any of what they're after. This was probably the old lobby, so that's most likely fair. There has to be something around here that'll lead them to the storage rooms and work rooms, some kind of map? Walking up to the front desk, they start by searching there, as this is too big a place to be wandering about so late. The quicker they can get the materials they need to build the stars of their show, the better. There's a reason this old stuff is abandoned and it's not exactly laws against theft that's keeping it so secure.

No, it's about the robots. Those animatronics this company makes, there's just something wrong with them. They come out with new batches, always promising safety and protection, but that's never really the case. Sure, maybe the reports of problems have lowered but those that do come out about their experiences? They're always so graphic it really makes you wonder how Fazbear is even still up and running. Their eyes scanned through drawers. Most of it was all just useless paperwork, old employee names, and numbers. A few notes about buyers and dates. All entirely worthless to them- Ah, there it is!

They grabbed up a map from within the drawer. One of those big fold-out ones. This was probably a spare of some kind. I mean, buildings like this always have maps hung up somewhere right? They unfolded it, scanning their eyes over the paper, clearly excited. That's part of why they were here. All sorts of Fazbear buildings get shut down. All sorts of animatronics get abandoned and places are always left to rot with goodies ripe for the taking. Though Fazbear Entertainment had its greedy claws dug deep into the industry, definitely having the most establishments in comparison to its competitors. Why not dream, right? Though they struggled to admit it, this company made some of the most advanced models around. Which means where there's spare parts to grab, take them while you can.

Y'know, it's kind of weirdly clean in here? Things are turned over and old papers scattered, but there's no real graffiti or burnt spots. If not for the broken glass and thick layers of dust, you'd almost think this place was abandoned just yesterday. Mold is attempting to help nature take it back, but it won't yield just yet. It's not ready.

As They make their way down the unfamiliar hallways, they aren't getting that sick feeling in their gut that they're so familiar with, though the darkness clings to these corners all the same as it does all the other accursed walls that bear the brand name this one does, it is softer. The atrocities that almost certainly happened here, ones that will never see the light of day, are old ones. They aren't as gripping as Y/N is used to, not as fresh. The stains have had a chance to fade into the wallpaper and start to blend with the carpet. They can't help but hope that one day this place can know some peace. It's a nice change of pace for the first few rooms, peering in and finding quiet, somber areas where people used to find work. Maybe not passionate work, and not honest either, but good paying work at least. Though, they're only finding stray bolts and forgotten tools up here… They need to go lower.

After a fair bit of wandering, they finally stumble across a staircase leading down into this place's underbelly. For a moment they almost shiver. The lights flicker, the glow was so dull it might as well not even be there. They pull out their flashlight from the loop on their belt, flicking it on as they begin to wander down. Despite the thick layer of dust, it's not until they reach the bottom of this staircase that they realize something is…wrong. There's a thick set of metal bars here, the key card slot long since broken and the metal chewed on. It's as if some rabid animal was let loose in here. They were careful to unlock the door, pushing it open and shining their flashlight around. This is what they’d expected.

The walls have long since dried blood on them, deep claw marks buried into the walls, and tearing through what used to be some kind of brick. Whatever is, or at least was, down here is really something. The smell of mold and oil was prevalent. See, Y/N was crazy for even coming in here, but they weren't that crazy. They were quick to pull their taser from their belt as well. Remember, aim for visible electronics. There's no way the things down here could be in one piece. As they began to walk, the hallways and rooms only grew more and more upsetting. A few testing chambers presumably, tools of different kinds. Nothing of much interest until they found an old supply room. Sure, there were bones in here and the off-putting smell of rot, but the metal framework pieces were pristine.

They grabbed up as much good material as they could, from wires to endo parts. All of it went into their bag. As they scurried out past the body they could only mutter a quiet apology. It's hard to think of what could've happened down here. Still, they carried on, finding empty glass cages. All with their doors locked and too dark to see into, even with their flashlight. They almost reminded Y/N of display cases, and honestly? That only made their nervousness worse. What were they even working on down here? The papers outside these cells with information were mostly either ripped apart, soaked in blood, or outright missing. Something tells them that opening literally any of these cells would be a bad idea.

Stilling, they hear the dreaded sound of company that they had so desperately and so stupidly hoped they wouldn't be finding so soon. Y/N tried to pinpoint what direction the heavy, metallic footsteps were coming from, uneven motions that were laiden with clicks, snaps, and the sounds of dragging. Whatever they were about to find wasn't going to be nice to look at, and when finally figuring out it was coming from directly ahead, they took a dive under a desk and hoped to not lock eyes with it.

Taser ready and breathing quieted, Y/N pressed their back to the wall and tried to stay brave. They've done this before. They've dealt with this before. They can do this, they're going to be fine.

The tall, lanky robot was bent up and broken. It had a flickering white eye and a flickering red one, both faded. The wires hung out from its neck and between its joints, one leg stiff from rust as it limped forward, dragging itself on down the long hall. The rasping from its voice box made the uninvited guest in hiding cringe, and hold their breath. Even banged up, it's bound to be stronger, and they make a point to keep their taser level with its exposed knee as it passes by closer.

All at once the large bot slowed to a stop, an odd clicking noise coming from what Y/N assumed was its chest. A low hiss spilled out of the creature's mouth as it reached down. For a moment they could only freeze up, but upon a second glance, it seemed…blind? Even looking directly at them it didn't seem to react, odd faceplate swiveling a full 360. Though that thicker plastic was mostly melted and ripped to shreds. It let out another shrill whine as it lurched towards them. They stuck out their Taser instinctively and yet it didn't quite hit. After all, this thing didn't seem to even see them. It simply sat down, presumably exhausted from its walk here. A wheezing rasp, a death rattle, its noises didn't sound human. Almost like grinding metal and breaking bones.

It spoke, broken up and too garbled to be heard as Y/N stared at it. Those eyes not quite locking on anything in particular, its body making a move to perhaps sit back up. Yet it was quick to fall, a loud metal crash as it twitched unnaturally. Another attempt, and yet it only fell again. Its servos snapped and forced the thing to practically be moving all the time. Despite its damaged form and twitchiness. It's lack of body control. That didn't stop Y/N from feeling small in comparison to it. Its snarling and distorted laughter did nothing but upset them. It wasn't just broken physically, something was wrong with its pathfinding. It was searching for something, right? But what?

As it let out another hiss and finally brought itself back to its knees. It let out a shaking snarl before standing. It's footsteps in that odd pattern. The metal clacks, dragging, a shrill noise, and the cycle would repeat. They let out a shallow breath as it began to walk away. Their movements were slow and calculated as they slid out from underneath the table. Alright, if they're quiet and they just keep going this way-

“Don't,” the first clear word the creature had spilled. Though still fuzzy, it left Y/N reeling back. Their head turned to the sound. The seemingly blind robot wasn’t staring at them at all.

“Don't fiGHt me-” a low snarling almost barking noise spilled from it. One of its hands came up to almost tear at its own face as it stumbled. It's balance off.

“Moon- MoOn we n-neEd help.” It hissed still twitching and spasming unnaturally. The voice sounded exhausted. As though it's been unable to sleep for weeks- odd considering robots don't need to rest. That didn't stop Y/N from staring. Help? It wanted…help? How much of a detriment to their health would it be to even get close to that thing? It's clearly unstable, damaged beyond recognition, and probably aggressive. It's tearing itself apart quite literally. Still, at the very least its endoskeleton could be used for parts. So with a shaky breath in they stared the stumbling creature down.

They were quick, having done this countless times before. Their anxiety made their hands shaky but their body moved faster than they usually could. That's the funny thing about adrenaline, isn't it? It always makes you just a little faster. They ran towards the beast, hearing it snarl and twitch unnaturally. It's clawed hands digging into the walls and damn near climbing them. Aim for exposed wires, aim for exposed wires, aim for- and with that. Their arm was thrust right into its exposed chest cavity. The robot screamed, bending at unnatural angles to get away and yet still Y/N persisted. After a good few seconds, the monster would finally crumple into a pile. The smell of burnt plastic, smoke, and what was certainly some kind of rot seemed to hug its body. A thick unholy blanket of nasty smells.

God, was this even worth it? Probably not. This thing was probably going to choke them out in their own home. One second they'll be sipping their coffee, the next? BAM! DEAD! This was honestly the worst idea they've ever had in their entire life and they've clearly had some pretty shitty ideas. Well, if they're going to be following through, they better do it right. Let's see how heavy this thing actually is.

With a lot of struggle and an immense feeling of relief at the knowledge no one was around to see them embarrass themself trying to get this mass of smoking scrap metal up the stairs, they start to pull it up one step at a time. With straining arms and light flailing when they nearly topple and lose their progress a few times, Y/N fights for their LIFE to heave it partly over their shoulder and drag it to the window. It took some careful calculations and a bungee cord from their bag to get the bot up and over the windows edge, but all in all, they managed! With little damage to their own body and a whole robot scavenged, the first hunt appears to be a success.

They'd have carelessly tossed the thing in the back of the van if they could pick it up easily enough to do such a thing, but folding it up and standing there for a moment to catch their breath was gonna have to do. At long last, our lovely Y/N can return to the dumpster fire that they call home with their first project on hand! Isn't that exciting? It seems their dreams aren't all for nothing after all, at least not yet!

The beat up old van they had been living in before finding out they inherited the trashed, empty warehouse they are now sleeping in took them all the way around to the garage area and into the vast, dusty space therein. It was with a whine that they drug the bot out to a table and popped open their toolkit. Y/N is SO not sleeping in the same building with this thing if it's still got arms and legs.

A few quick alterations, the unplugging of a few wires, and a couple of bolts unscrewed had the limbs popped right off, finally allowing the tired ex-mechanic a well deserved break. Today has been long and tonight will be longer. Y/N never was one to wait when they got excited.

As per usual, ramen for dinner and a cold bed to crawl back into. Maybe for some that would sound bad- maybe for Y/N that would usually sound bad too- but with this new robot, how could they be upset? They had something to do with their hands at long last. They’d probably start with removing it's melty plastic coating first thing tomorrow. Yeah, that sounds like it’ll be a good way to start. Perhaps giving the animatronic a bath. Was treating it like some weird stray dog a good thing? Probably not. But that wasnt going to stop them from doing it.

Over the next few weeks they would work tirelessly, cleaning, replacing metal bars, rewiring, casting new molds, reading coding and attempting to fix some of it. This thing was damaged beyond belief, remaining in some sort of idle or rest mode the entire time. As it turns out, there wasn’t just one of them either. Behind that faceplate of theirs was a slot for memory and personality chips. Though they’d expected just the one they were quick to find two. An empty slot between both little cards as if they were missing someone caught Y/N’s eye but they just pushed the thought aside. From the ground up they’d rebuild the first body and create a matching one just for the both of them. This little blue chip had the name Moon on it, so why not decorate the second body with stars right?

After what was surely actual months of work, at last! Their magnum opus! Two well painted, put together, and hopefully functioning animatronics were sat up on their table. They were absolutely stunning, they only needed some work done. Now look? They didn’t look even half as creepy as they originally did. Honestly, if Y/N could they’d give themself a pat on the back. They actually turned out pretty cute, if they did say so themself. Finally, the moment they’d been waiting for. They were careful to flick a few smaller switches inside both animatronics face plates. A little clicking and whirring as their cores powered on was all Y/N needed to know, they should at the very least turn on. They were careful to push both of the animatronics faces shut and wait. And…wait.

And wait.

Just as they were about to reach out and open those faceplates right back up, two sets of eyes snapped open. A set of blue and a heterochromatic set of red and blue. Both sets were glassy, almost like doll eyes, and all at once their mind fell quiet. Ah, it’s finally dawned on them. They just brought two Fazbear Entertainment robots into their house and gave them functional bodies! This…this is going to end terribly, they can already tell.

#fnaf au #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf x reader #sun x reader #sun x y/n #moon x reader #moon x y/n #x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #sundrop x reader #sundrop x y/n #moondrop x reader #moondrop x y/n #fnaf dca #dca fandom

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pebiejeebies · 4 months

Text

FINALLY REDESIGNED MY BABY!!

Fuorzy!! Look at her :D

… wait.. this is too.. boring.. hmmmm

hmmm.. it wouldn’t hurt to..

well..

destroy an innocent little lovable sona to the point she loses sanity and gets forced to merge with announcer..

The line less art was her first ever appearance. Innocent. Happy.

The outlined art is, well.. the Aftermath.

Hhhhheeeeehhhh, Huge difference huh..? I really, really destroyed her didn’t I? :(

Lore if ur interested!!

(Tw,, robot gore..??? Surgery,, uhh test subject horror—?? Idk man)

First of all:

WHAT IS A ROBOTERSTIEN??

It’s a robot Frankenstein, and I used the word Roboter and not Robot because it was German :P (idk let me mix random words together like they’re my shampoo and conditioner bottles)

She was playing in the equation playground for a while, until she strayed too far

She bumped into a bear, and since she struggles to see clearly because she’s cross eyed.. well.. I think you get the picture.

Xeir legs got completely snapped and seperated off of her, and her arms and hands were scratched heavily, and bent, and her.. uh.. ears I guess? Welll……

the only reason she survived was because there were objects camping nearby, who were professionals in hunting down bears and such

As much as the bear hurt Fuorzy, she didn’t want to see it die, so she convinced the objects with her little to no consciousness, and they let the bear go

She wakes up in a lab, with professional robotic scientists, they fixed up her limbs and bandages her missing ‘ear’, and just when she thought that they were too kind to offer all of this for free..

They didn’t. They told her to pay, either in any currency (which she doesn’t even know what it is) or..

She becomes a test subject.

She disliked the idea, but she really, REALLY wanted to live and keep her new cool limbs!

Days, weeks, and a month or two pass, every day they’d make a surgery on her, either cut open her missing ear, or her back and tail (Do know, canon version of both phases had the same back, just the first appearance didnt have the stitches)

Or they’d try new codes and chips on her

It doesn’t matter if anything happened to them, the scientists were only using them to test out things they’d do on the projects and robots they wanted to make

And with the lack of nice treatment, constant forgetfulness of her starvation and exhaustion, it finally made her tick

The scientists completely forgot that she was, ALIVE, so they never really made sure she was stabilized well

The scientists are all gathered, as they speak excitedly about this test and how it would work

They make her unconscious, and after a week of a heavy forced deep sleep, she wakes up, with a— A FUCKING ROBOT ON HER HEAD..

HUH. They tested if she could connect announcer to her BRAIN, and the only way it would work was.. well… yeah.. owchie…

She wasn’t supposed to wake up at that time, she looked at herself in the floor’s reflection, and instead of crying and looking at herself traumatized, she smiled

She ripped the chains from the bed off of her, and completely..

Lost

Their

M I N D

She started killing EVERYONE she saw

everyone who had a white long, coat

She was about to get shot by a scientist, only for one of the other scientists she tried to kill push her away

The shot reflected back onto the scientist and drops dead

Then she stared at the scientist that saved them

Rose, he helped her up and smiled warmly

“About time they got what they deserved”

He helped them out of the lab, and they both went their separate ways

She smiled as she wiped off the blood on her face, and stared back at her Home, Sweet, Home.

I knoe I probably wrote this badly,, but I have a headache sooo bear with me here ….

Alrighty uuhhh byebyee <3333

#osc #golden #object show community #object shows #object show art #osc oc #osc art #osc fanart #objectshow #objectsona #foursona

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percyaugod · 3 days

Text

Evil Shelldon AU: Unfixable Route

@harrygrim

I'm not good at recognizing when there should be warnings, but this is one of my darker, so even I can see some of them here. : D

Warning: Major character death, gore, probably more but I don't know them or how to label them.

Shelldon wished he could make Donnie keep working so he'd stop bothering him and his new brothers. Unfortunately, living can't be programmed nearly as easily as machines, the poor creatures trapped in flesh.

Luckily, despite the creator's many flaws, he is still a genius. One with robot copies, backups, in case something happens to the organic bodies. Once Donatello is in his things will be so much easier.

In the soundproof walls of the lab, no one hears as Donatello pleads for his life or his final scream.

It's harder than Shelldon thought it would be to reprogram Donnie once he's in the backup, he's constantly fighting the new codes and commands, but he does it.

Nothing will convince them more that Donatello chose this himself than inventions only he could come up with and create and words and phrases only he would say leaving the lab. Now the creator can stay in the lab and invent like he's supposed to while Shelldon gets to be the fourth brother. What more could anyone else want?

Notice how Shelldon didn't say anything about doing something with Donnie's body. It's still just sitting there in the lab.

So when Leo teleports in to confront Donnie on his behavior… : )

Leo's horror when he came to yell at someone who was long dead and he didn't even realize it. It's obviously not just some lab accident either. Donnie was cut open and left to rot. Even dead Donnie looks so scared. Why would anyone do this?

Double fun when he finds out it was Shelldon. That Donnie is dead because he messed with Shelldon. Because Donnie had the robot he made and put weeks, if not months, of work into play favorites? Pizza and back massages?

Then there's the robot likeness of his brother being used to fight him because he's seen too much. Leo yells at Shelldon about building a robot version of Donnie only for Shelldon to say he didn't, Donnie did. Shelldon explains the backups and their purpose, and how he repurposed Donnie's. Leo realizes what he's fighting is all that's left of Donnie.

Leo realizes that the last things any of them said to Donnie when he was alive were insults and talking about replacing him with Shelldon. How great Shelldon was. How great the monster that killed their brother and took what was left and twisted it was.

Donnie repeated those words back at him. Shelldon didn't program him to do it. It's just a part of Donnie still in the programming, lost and hurt, throwing Leo's words back at him. Lashing out in the only way he can now.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt au #rise donnie #rise shelldon #rottmnt shelldon #rise leo #Evil Shelldon au #major character death #cw: gore

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galaxymagitech · 2 months

Text

Graveyard

Written for Dick Grayson Anniversary Week: Day 4 Prompt: Batman's Most Trusted

@dickgraysonweek

Summary: No one comes to save a mourning Bruce from himself. Until, months after Tim would have stepped in, Dick notices Bruce's recklessness on a League Mission. He returns to Bruce's side to help him back into the light, but ends up following him into the darkness instead.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason the Narrative Ghost

Warnings: Referenced death of a family member, dissociation, discussions of suicidal thoughts in a non-POV character, brief mentions of rape (specifically, Felipe Garzonas’s crimes, not of any main characters). Mild gore? I don't think it's that bad, but it's slightly present.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Bruce had made it clear that he didn’t want to see Dick again, not after their confrontation over Jason’s death. But there was an emergency, and the Justice League had called for all available heroes to come and help beat back the robotic alien army. And Dick, well, of course he came. Normally he’d be leading his own team during a situation like this, but he was on break from the Titans and he didn’t want to mess with their leadership structure. Indecision in battle is dangerous, and if the Titans weren’t sure who to listen to…it wouldn’t be good. Clark had asked Dick if he was sure he wanted to join the main Leaguers—he knew that Dick and Bruce aren’t on best terms right now, even though he likely doesn’t know the details. But Bruce is professional and Dick should be able to keep his head in the game.

Should being the keyword. And yet he can’t stop watching as Bruce faces off against twelve robots, because something…something is wrong. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest as an energy beam misses Batman by an inch. Bruce should’ve dodged that. Easily. The man doesn’t try to split up his opponents, lead a group of them off to dispatch separately. No, he fights all of them at once. When a blow from one of their four arms strikes him in the stomach, Bruce doubles over. He grins, even as blood drips between his teeth, dribbling down his chin and into the snow.

Focus, Dick orders himself as he dodges an energy beam and rolls between one of the robot’s eight legs, scoring its underside with a batarang.

Batman spins, his cape a whirlwind as he pulls two more robots into the fight.

Dick watches an energy beam scorch Bruce’s arm, and suddenly it clicks. Bruce isn’t trying to keep himself safe.

This is all wrong.

---

Dick may have given his keys to Alfred—or, tossed them away in the Batcave where Alfred would find them, at least—but his Batcave access hasn’t been revoked. He had thought it might be, after the way he left, but he had other plans for if this didn’t work.

It’s 4 PM. Bruce should be upstairs in the Manor, but he’ll come down eventually. In the meantime, Dick has a case that he picked up in New York with potential ties to the League of Assassins. He needs to analyze a sample of poison, and the Batcomputer will be useful for that. Dick could probably call up Clark and get access to some Justice League equipment, but…the Batcomputer is probably best for the job.

It's a convenient excuse. Dick might not be allowed in the Manor, but Batman wouldn’t deny Nightwing access to the Batcave’s equipment, not when it could save lives.

This is going to be awkward as hell, if it doesn’t devolve into Round Two. But Dick can’t just stand by while Bruce gets himself killed.

Fuck. That’s what’s happening, isn’t it? He knows—he knows that Jason’s death hit all of them hard. Dick and Alfred, hell, the entire superhero community…but especially Bruce. He knows. But Dick never would’ve expected this. Not of Bruce.

When Dick climbs off his bike, he finds that the Batcave is not empty. In fact, Bruce is hunched over the Batcomputer, cowl off but uniform still on, the same burn marks from the fight still present. Bruce turns around at the sound of Dick’s footsteps, and Dick sees a bruise on the man’s jaw that wasn’t there before. He went on patrol, didn’t he? That reckless idiot. No patrol after League missions unless absolutely necessary, and Dick’s kept an eye on the news—it wasn’t necessary at all.

“Dick?” Bruce asks, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His voice is hoarse from exhaustion and his eyes are glazed. Dick doesn’t think Bruce has slept in days.

Dick pulls the poison sample out from his pocket and holds it up. Instead of the nod of acknowledgement Dick was expecting, Bruce’s shoulders slump.

“You need access to the Batcomputer?”

“Yeah,” Dick says softly. “Have you slept in the last forty-eight hours?” Bruce grunts in the negative. Yeah, Dick thought so. “Seventy-two?” Another grunt. Dick steps closer. He can see the bags under his father’s eyes, the exhaustion evident in his normally military posture. “I’m worried about you, Bruce,” he admits.

Surprise flickers across Bruce’s face. “I’m…relatively uninjured.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Dick says. Bruce looks off to the side. Dick walks over to stand by the second chair by the Batcomputer, the one normally reserved for Robin, and hovers there, uncertain.

“You should…you should sit,” Bruce says gruffly. Dick sits. He thinks they both know that this means something. “What is the sample? Do you need help with it?”

This is definitely a distraction tactic, but the sample is important too, so Dick takes the vial out of the plastic bag he was keeping it in and places it in one of the machines attached to the Batcomputer. The two vigilantes fall into a practiced rhythm, cycling through tests and databases until Dick’s fairly certain that the poison is a paralytic that comes from a region close to a League base in the Amazon. He wants to keep working, find something else that they haven’t considered yet, just to keep this comfortable companionship with Bruce. He misses it so much. But he came here for a reason. “If you keep this up,” Dick says as he turns back from the hazardous waste chute, “you’re going to get yourself killed. And I’m worried that you don’t seem to care.”

“I’ve always been devoted to my work,” Bruce argues, even as he doesn’t outright deny the accusation.

“Not like this,” Dick says. He looks around the cave, the mess of files cluttering the medical cots, the dust on the giant penny, the number of windows open on the Batcomputer. “Not like this,” he repeats. “Bruce, you need to slow down and…and think. How many of those blows could you have dodged during that battle? How many of your injuries could you have healed if you stayed in the League infirmary for even an hour?”

“That’s not your concern, Nightwing.”

“It is! Bruce, I…” Dick feels his heart clench. “You’re going to get yourself killed. It’s…it’s terrifying. I know after…” He trails off. “I know after everything, it’s hard. I get it, okay? But this? You can’t do this.”

Bruce’s fists clench. “I’m taking all normal precautions. You don’t need to worry.”

“I think I do, Bruce. You’ve never been reckless like this before. I mean, what does Alfred think?”

“Alfred left,” Bruce says shortly.

What? “He’s coming back, right?”

“…I don’t know,” Bruce admits. He shifts uncomfortable. “Alfred…he said he couldn’t stay and watch this. So I asked him to take a vacation.”

“And he left? Just like that?” Alfred has dealt with a stubborn Bruce for far too long to just leave when commanded. There’s something that Bruce isn’t saying. And Bruce is perfectly capable of hiding things, so either this is something so bad that Bruce can’t hide it or, deep down, Bruce doesn’t want to hide it.

“There was a fight with Two-Face. It went badly. Alfred…had the same opinion that you do now.”

“Holy shit,” Dick says. “And you think you’re just fine and dandy?”

“I think,” Bruce says slowly, “that how I fight is my business.”

“Not if…not when you’re like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” Dick takes a deep breath and accesses the post-patrol reports, running a quick script. The list of injuries—far, far more extensive than it should be—prints out before his eyes. Dick’s stomach turns.

“You shouldn’t be looking at that,” Bruce says, almost apologetically.

“Then you shouldn’t get hurt,” Dick hisses. “What the hell, B? This isn’t…this isn’t recklessness.” He can’t bring himself to say the proper words. “This is deliberate.”

The air sits heavy in the Batcave. “I think you should go,” Bruce says.

“No.” Dick takes a deep breath. After seeing this…his breath catches as he stares at the list, and he forces himself to look away and face Bruce. Dick can’t leave. “I’m not leaving you alone. I shouldn’t have left you alone while you were grieving, but…I can’t. I can’t leave and come back to realize you’re dead. Don’t do this to me, Bruce.”

“I’m not—”

“Bruce, please.”

“Dick, you’re making—”

Yeah, Dick doesn’t want to hear how that sentence ends. “You clearly don’t care if you live or die.” Dick stands up. “Well, guess what, asshole? I care! I’m staying here where I can keep an eye on you and make sure I don’t wake up one day to the news of your corpse. And if you don’t want me to stay, then I’ll just live in the Batcave! And—and if you kick me out of here too, then I’ll follow you on patrol and fucking tranq you and take you to Clark. So what’ll it be?”

“Dick—”

Dick can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He rarely cries anymore, but all he can think of is losing Bruce, so soon after he lost Jason. Dick can’t do that. He can’t lose another father, another family member. Not like this. “Jason wouldn’t want you to die, Jason would want you to live. And I need you to live. So I’m going to make damn well sure you do, no matter what you say!”

“Chum, I—”

Fuck, the tears are falling now. Dick wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t care if it’s selfish, you are not going to die. I won’t let you.”

Suddenly, Dick feels Bruce’s arms around him, pulling him close. Dick sinks into Bruce’s chest and slings his arms around Bruce’s waist. Bruce is alive. Dick will make sure he stays that way. He won’t lose him.

“If you’re willing to stay, I would…I would greatly appreciate it,” Bruce says. He doesn’t pull away. Dick clings close, afraid to let go.

---

On patrol, Nightwing sticks close to Batman’s side. It should be suffocating, but it’s better than the fear that freezes his lungs whenever the two vigilantes get separated. Dick leaps into fight after fight, brandishing escrima sticks and cracking jokes like it’s the only thing that’ll keep him afloat. Dick is painfully aware that if he can’t keep a light heart, then no one will. There is no Robin around to light the way. Nightwing will have to be enough.

It's hard, though, when Dick sees Jason on every rooftop and the Joker laughing in every shadow. It’s hard, when Dick realizes he hasn’t contacted his friends for two weeks—and none of them have contacted him. It’s hard, when Dick and Bruce trade nights of nightmares.

The first time Dick hears Bruce screaming at night, he throws himself out of bed, terrified that the Manor is under attack. But when he reaches Bruce’s door, he can hear the man crying and sobbing inside. This is wrong. Batman doesn’t have nightmares, Batman doesn’t cry out in his sleep. Dick hovers outside the door, uncertain, unwilling to cross that boundary.

Should he go in? When Dick was a child, he was always welcome after one of his own nightmares. But Dick is no longer a child, and Bruce having nightmares is completely uncharted territory.

Dick should leave. This isn’t his place. But he can’t bring himself to go back to sleep when he knows Bruce is suffering.

Slowly, he rests against the wall to Bruce’s room and slides down to the floor. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and listens as every cry stabs at his heart. Eventually, it stops, and Dick drifts off until morning.

The next night, Dick dreams that he is sitting with Barbara in a small, quaint coffee shop. Outside the window, every adult is dressed as Batman and every child as Robin, but inside, Dick is just Dick and Barbara is just Barbara. “Don’t look at them,” Barbara says. “It doesn’t matter.”

And then she’s choking, doubled over with the Joker standing behind her, his bloody red lips twisted into a smile. His hand is buried in her back.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Joker grins. “I can just twist, and—oops!”

Barbara falls to the ground. “Dick, help me! Dick, please, I can’t move.”

Outside, all the children drop dead. The coffee shop is on fire.

“Why?” Dick asks the Joker.

The monster laughs and laughs and laughs, and with every second his face loses its pallor and his grin shifts into a grimace, until Dick finds himself staring at Bruce.

“No,” he tries to say, but it doesn’t come out. He stumbles, only to find his back pressed into a wall. “No, wait—”

Bruce plunges his hand into Dick’s chest. Dick can feel it close around his heart. “Jason is dead.”

All the dead Robins outside sit up and twist their heads at unnatural angles. Their Batmen pick them up and hold them, like an army of despair.

“Jason is dead,” Bruce repeats, and Dick knows it’s an accusation, but—

“It’s not my fault,” he insists.

“These are your colors,” Bruce says. Dick looks down. He’s wearing a yellow shirt and green tights, and Bruce’s hand is still clenched around his heart. “Yellow. And green. It’s only missing the red.” And then Bruce pulls.

Dick watches, frozen, as his father holds a bloody, pulsating heart in his hands.

“I would give this to Jason if I could,” Bruce says. “But it’s not enough.” His grimace twists even further. “You’re useless to me.” He tosses the heart to the side. Around them, the flames burn brighter and brighter.

Dick wakes up screaming, with Bruce at his side.

Immediately, he pushes himself up into a seated position, flicking on his lamp and breathing heavily as he tries to force the dream from his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says. “I had to check. I heard you screaming. I had to check.”

And three years ago, Dick would’ve been angry. Would’ve ranted about invasions of privacy and paranoia. Instead, he slides off the edge of the bed, wraps his arms around Bruce, and lets his father hold him close. “I’m fine,” Dick says, wishing he believed it. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s—” He chokes on the word. Jason.

“You’re alive,” Bruce whispers, as Dick buries his face in Bruce’s chest.

---

“Where were you?” Bruce asks as Dick pokes at his mac and cheese. They’ve been eating the most basic meals possible. Too much takeout and the papers will start to speculate. “I needed to consult with you on the Michaelson case.”

Dick sighs. This is why he moved out. Bruce does not need to know where he is at all times.

And yet, Dick gets it. Bruce didn’t keep track of Jason.

“I was looking for a job.”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “A job? Why?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Seriously? “A job. To earn money. You know, that thing that buys food?”

“I have plenty of money,” Bruce says, like he doesn’t see the problem there.

“I’m not mooching off of you,” Dick insists.

“It’s not…mooching. I’m happy to support you.”

Rich people. Seriously. “You don’t get it, B. I’ve got to get a job. Save up. Be independent.”

“You don’t need a job, Dick. Besides, you’re twenty-one. If you were in college, I would still be paying for everything.”

“Bruce.”

“Dick.”

“You don’t get it,” Dick says. He can feel his frustration rising. “I’m not going to be living with you or the Titans forever. You get that, right? This is temporary.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Bruce says, looking down at his plate.

Dick stands up. “Seriously, B?” He moved back into the Manor to help Bruce out of the funk he’s in, not to staypermanently. But Bruce doesn’t seem to have caught onto that.

“You can stay as long as you want.”

Dick is already sacrificing everything he built by staying here. And he’s willing to do it, he is, but Bruce doesn’t seem to realize just what Dick has lost. “I don’t want to stay forever. I have a life. I have friends. I don’t exist solely for your stupid fucking mission!”

Bruce stands up too. “Richard John Grayson!”

“Oh, the full name, huh?” Dick scoffs. “You’re not my father, Bruce. And if you want me to give a fuck about language, then get Alfred back. Oh, wait—you drove him away!”

“At least I know where Alfred is! When you run off, you don’t tell me where. And when Jason ran off, he got himself killed!”

“I’m not Jason!” Dick screams. “And I’m a grown adult, I don’t have to tell you anything! You don’t own me and you don’t own my life!”

“Then you don’t have any right to dictate how I live mine!”

“I have the right to make sure you fucking live!”

They’re both heaving for air, fists clenched as they stand over the dinner table. Suddenly, the guilt hits, filling Dick’s lungs. It all just ran away from him, the whole fight spiraling and spiraling and spiraling. Dick didn’t mean for it to go like this. And instead of storming out, like he normally does after a fight with Bruce, he just slumps over and stands there, head hung.

“I don’t want to fight,” Dick says, eventually.

“I…I don’t want to fight either, Dick.” Bruce looks so very tired.

“I didn’t mean it,” Dick whispers.

“I know,” Bruce says.

“I just want to help.”

Bruce pulls him close. “I know.”

---

“Bet you can’t keep up, B!” Dick shouts, diving off a skyscraper. He shoots his grappling hook before he jumps. Bruce does not.

The two race through the rooftops, Dick adding in unnecessary acrobatics and Bruce replicating them, though not quite as elegantly. In theory, they’re patrolling. In practice, it’s the closest they get to a game.

The last time Bruce and Dick raced across Gotham’s rooftops, Dick was fourteen. The next time Dick thought Batman was looking down and tried to start the chase, Bruce growled at him to focus. Dick didn’t stop trying for another year.

Dick tries to push the dismal thoughts from his head. What matters is the here and now. The thrill of the wind blowing through his hair, the swooping in his stomach as he falls, the laughter that spills past his lips. This is how Batman and Robin used to be.

Did Jason do this with Bruce too?

Dick mistimes his landing and stumbles, forcing himself into a sloppy roll. When he lands on his feet, his shoulder is aching. That’s going to bruise, and bad.

Bruce, in the middle of copying one of Dick’s flips, doesn’t notice. Dick forces a grin onto his face and rushes forwards.

As he somersaults over the gap between the next two buildings, he notices a man threatening a scrawny teenager with a knife in the alley below. “You go on ahead, B!” Dick shouts. “You could use the head start!”

He makes short work of the mugger and ties him up for the police.

“Wait,” the kid calls out as Dick turns to leave. Dick pauses. “Can I…can I report something?”

Dick shifts his body language, trying to make himself appear open. “Sure!” He says cheerily—but not overly cheerily, just enough to be encouraging.

“There’s this tunnel,” the kid explains. “Some of us—I mean, some of my friends—go there to paint. I mean, I don’t. But some guys I know do.” Their shoulders hunch defensively. Dick’s not buying it for a second, but Batman and Nightwing don’t hunt down graffiti artists. “These guys came along one day, wearing these weird masks, and said we all had to get out. So I—I mean, my friends left. But some people were like, ‘screw it,’ and stayed, and no one’s seen them in days.”

That certainly sounds concerning. “What sort of masks?”

“Like, clowns. Hey, do you think it’s the Joker?”

“Maybe,” Dick says. Probably. But the Joker’s still in Arkham right now, so what’s he playing at? “What else can you tell me?”

By the time he’s got all the information the kid has, Dick knows Bruce is far ahead of him. He races along the patrol route, not bothering to do any fancy acrobatics. A few minutes later, Dick hears the sound of grunts from yet another alleyway and sighs, dropping down to join the fray.

Except, it isn’t much of a fray at all. There are two men lying on the ground, unconscious, one of them bleeding, a tiny kid cowering a few feet away against a building, and Batman straddling a third man, pummeling him in the face.

Dick freezes, taking the scene in. One of the unconscious men has half his limbs bent at artificial angles. The other appears to be bleeding from the temple and has a batarang pinned through his hand (batarangs aren’t supposed to be that sharp). And the kid, the kid is shivering, his arms wrapped around his knees as he pushes himself into the corner between the building’s wall and a dumpster. He’s wearing a ragged red hoodie and his face is far too gaunt to be healthy. Homeless, probably.

Another grunt pulls Dick’s gaze toward the third man, who Bruce is taking an unusually long time to subdue. Or—that can’t be right, because he already seems to be unconscious, not even moving as Bruce strikes him again and again. “Batman?” Dick asks hesitantly, stepping forward. Bruce doesn’t respond. He aims another strike at the criminal’s face and Dick hears a distinct crack. “B, I think you got him,” Dick says, his voice shaking ever-so-slightly. Another grunt. Another strike. This is wrong. The man is already unconscious. They’re supposed to tie him up and leave, why is Bruce still attacking him? “B!” Dick orders. “That’s enough!”

But nothing seems to be getting through. Bruce grabs the man’s shirt collar and slams him against the ground. His head bounces off the pavement, and all Dick can think of is that Bruce is going to kill this man, if he’s not already dead. Dick rushes forward and shoves Bruce in the shoulder as hard as he can. Bruce reacts instinctively, throwing a wild fist that Dick easily ducks, but now Batman’s standing up, and he’s not hitting the man anymore, so it’s—it’s okay.

Bruce freezes. “Dick—”

No names in the field. No names in the field. That’s all Dick can think of. Bruce is the stickler for that rule, but even Dick only ever breaks it when on rooftops, far away from the action. But here, in an alleyway in the middle of Gotham, with a witness…

Bruce is compromised. Dick knew it already, but not like this. He pictures Bruce’s fists pummeling the criminal again and again and feels…sick.

“What the hell was that?” Dick accuses.

“I didn’t mean—I didn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

Dick laughs harshly. That’s what Bruce is focusing on? “Forget about me, what about him?”

Bruce tilts his head to look at the criminal lying on the ground. He swallows.

Dick kneels down and checks for a pulse. He finds one, thank god. Faint, but present. “He’s alive,” Dick reports. “But you could have killed him.”

Bruce just stares. Dick takes out the encrypted burner phone all of them carry and dials 911. Bruce watches silently as Dick says that an ambulance is needed. Dick throws a disgusted look at Bruce. Clearly he’s not going to be any help, and there’s still a terrified street kid to deal with. Thankfully, the kid looks too out of it to have heard Dick’s name, but if he’s still there when the ambulance arrives, he’ll get taken by CPP. And Dick knows that kids in Gotham often have a very good reason to avoid social workers.

“Hey,” Dick says softly, kneeling down a few feet away from the kid. The boy just shakes even harder. “I’m Nightwing.” Normally, he tells kids in Gotham that he works with Batman. But with what the kid just saw…Dick doesn’t even know if that’ll help him right now. “I fight the bad guys,” he says instead. The kid shifts, but looks at him with blank, blue eyes. Black hair, blue eyes, red hoodie…around ten to twelve years old…he looks like Jason, in his early days at Wayne Manor. “Can you tell me your name?”

The sound of sirens fills the air and suddenly, like a marionette, the kid jumps to his feet and takes off running. Dick doesn’t follow him. If the kid had the presence of mind to run, he probably has somewhere to go.

“Cave,” Dick says, voice hard. “Now.”

---

In the cave, Dick paces. Motion has always helped him think. But here, it doesn’t seem to be enough. What can Dick possibly say? Bruce was always the one who held him back, until Dick accepted the no-kill rule as part of his identity. But if Dick hadn’t gotten there in time…

A sick feeling churns in his gut. Batman wasn’t stopping. Batman would’ve killed that man.

If Dick wasn’t here, Bruce would be a murderer.

Dick gags and just barely holds down his light dinner. This is wrong. It isn’t supposed to be like this. This isn’t who Bruce is.

But maybe, this is who Bruce is now.

“You almost killed someone,” Dick says quietly, stopping to face Bruce, who stands over by Jason’s display case with his cowl off. Dick hates that damn thing. A GOOD SOLDIER. Like Jason was a soldier who died in a war. Like he made a choice to serve. Like he wasn’t a child in over his head who should have been protected by his family.

“You stopped me in time.”

“What if I wasn’t there?” Dick asks. Dick was trying to help, but…Bruce seemed to be improving. Just an hour ago, they were racing through Gotham. Dick thought he heard Bruce chuckle. How did everything change so fast? Will Dick ever be able to trust that Bruce is improving?

“But you were,” Bruce says, his voice filled with some emotion that Dick is too tired to name.

Dick was there, but he can’t always be, can he? Not all the time. He was willing to save Bruce from himself. He didn’t know he’d have to save Gotham from Bruce.

Dick steps forward and raises a hand to the glass display case. He looks at the costume, so similar to his own old circus leotard. These aren’t the clothes Jason died in. They aren’t burnt and tattered and stained with blood. It seems wrong, to remember Jason like this. With shining glass and a clean costume and a plaque.

But Dick can’t say he knew Jason well enough to decide on the right way to remember him.

“The kid looked like Jason.” Dick says it like a question, even though it isn’t one. “That’s why you were so…” Violent? That’s the understatement of the century. Batman’s always been violent, but he’s also always been kind, and that kindness was nowhere to be found in that alleyway.

“Yes,” Bruce says, and his voice shakes. Dick wants to pull him close and hug him, but he doesn’t think it would be appreciated right now. Dick’s not even sure if he could stomach it. This is Bruce, his mentor, his second father in every way that matters, but…but he just almost beat a man to death. His gauntlets are still bloody. “They were going to…”

“I know,” Dick interrupts before Bruce can continue. He places a hesitant hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Bruce, Jason wouldn’t…Jason wouldn’t want this.”

Bruce goes stiff and takes a step back, forcing Dick’s hand away. “Don’t talk about what Jason would want,” he says, voice cold.

“He wouldn’t,” Dick says. He knows…he knows that this is a surefire way to start a fight, but he needs to get through to Bruce. He needs the real Bruce back. “Jason believed in Robin, believed in Batman. He would want you to be the man he…the man he believed in.”

Bruce shakes his head. “You have no idea.”

Dick steps forward. “Then tell me.”

“Jason killed Felipe Garzonas.” What? Dick cycles through cases in his head, but he wasn’t particularly involved in Gotham during Jason’s time as Robin. He doesn’t know who that is. “He said the man slipped. I wasn’t sure at the time. I wanted to believe him. But he didn’t even try to make the story convincing.”

Dick closes his eyes. “Jason,” he whispers.

“Garzonas had diplomatic immunity. Much like the Joker did shortly after Jason’s death. He...he was a rapist. He tormented a woman until she hung herself. And Jason went after him alone. I arrived to see Garzonas hit the ground, after falling from the top of a building with a railing.”

“He said he didn’t,” Dick protests weakly. “Jason wouldn’t.”

“Don’t pretend to know what Jason would or wouldn’t do.”

That’s fair, Dick supposes. He still…he still struggles to wrap his head around the idea of Jason killing, Jason who proclaimed Robin to be magic. And Bruce doesn’t know for sure. But whether Jason pushed Garzonas or not, that doesn’t change what Dick saw in that alleyway. “You almost killed someone, Bruce. What would have happened if he hadn’t had a pulse?”

Bruce’s every muscle stills. “What would you have me do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Bruce turns to face Dick, meeting his eyes. “If I had killed him, what would you say I do next?”

Why is Bruce asking Dick of all people? Batman doesn’t kill. (Neither does Robin.) It’s just how it is. Batman doesn’t. “Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick says. But that’s not an answer, is it? Bruce looks at him, like he’s waiting for more. This isn’t a situation Dick’s ever considered. He’s thought about what would happen if he failed. As Robin, he always figured Bruce would disown him, kick him out permanently and leave him to fend for himself. As Nightwing, he figured Bruce would put him to Arkham. “Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick repeats. “I don’t…what do you want me to say, Bruce?”

“Would you place me in Arkham?” Bruce asks. “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t stop you.”

“No,” Dick says, before he can even think about it. Immediately, he wants to take it back. Of course he should put Batman in Arkham. If someone kills in Gotham, they’re a criminal, and if they wear a mask, they’re a Rogue. Bruce should berate him, tell him that Batman is no different, that if he kills, it’s Dick’s duty to stop him. But Bruce just watches Dick closely. Not like this is a test…like he genuinely wants to hear Dick’s answer. “I’d. I’d. I don’t know.” Maybe Bruce could throw Dick in Arkham. Probably could. But Dick doesn’t think he could do that to Bruce. “Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick repeats for a third time, clinging to it like a lifeline. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes. He turns around so that Bruce won’t see. “We don’t kill. It’s the first rule you taught me.”

“I know,” Bruce says quietly. “We don’t kill,” he agrees.

“I don’t think you should patrol right now.”

“Gotham needs me,” Bruce protests.

Dick turns around. “One week. I can handle Gotham for one week, and then you’ll be back out in the field. Okay?”

There’s a long silence, before Bruce eventually nods.

“Okay,” Dick says. “Pull yourself together, Grayson,” he mutters under his breath. It doesn’t help.

---

Fifty-six hours later, Dick wakes up from his third nightmare of the night. All he can see is Bruce’s body burnt and disfigured, bones clattering like a skeleton as he cries out again and again, “Why didn’t you save me?”Dick stumbles through the hallway, reaches Bruce’s door and, against his better instincts, opens it.

It doesn’t bring relief, though. All Dick can see are blankets, and that’s not enough. He shuffles over to the bed, wincing as the floorboards creak. And he can see Bruce, but his mind whispers insidiously. What if it’s an illusion? What if he’s not there? What if he’s dead? Tentatively, Dick raises a hand to touch Bruce’s face.

“Dick?” Bruce asks blearily, and Dick jumps back.

“I had to check,” Dick justifies.

“I’m here,” Bruce says. He raises a hand, slightly, letting it slip outside his blankets. Dick grabs the hand and holds it tight, fingers twisting around to feel Bruce’s heartbeat.

“You’re here,” Dick echoes.

---

On day four of Bruce’s forced break, the Joker, Killer Croc, and the Riddler break out of Arkham. Dick reluctantly admits that he needs help and tells Bruce that he’s back to being Batman.

“Are you sure, Dick?” Bruce asks quietly.

“I trust you,” Dick says. He doesn’t know if that’s a lie or not. Either way, it’s impossible to miss the flash of guilt on Bruce’s face. “We’ll stick together. No splitting off.”

Bruce nods. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

Dick watches Bruce like a hawk. Although he hits perhaps a bit too hard, it’s nothing like the excessive violence Dick saw in that alleyway. Bruce is more reluctant to get hurt when Dick is watching, and Dick is sure to block the strikes that Bruce doesn’t avoid.

They finish patrol at 5:31 AM, battered and sore and exhausted, but Killer Croc has been returned to Arkham, and they have a lead on the Joker. That tunnel the graffiti kid mentioned may look clear now, but sooner or later, the Joker is liable to show up.

After one too many nightmares, they give up on boundaries. Dick humors Bruce’s first idea, which is to put cameras in their rooms to check on each other at night, but neither of them is satisfied that someone isn’t just looping the feed. When Dick finds himself checking on Bruce at four in the morning, Bruce mutters deliriously, “just stay, Dick.”

So Dick crawls next to him and falls asleep to the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat. He doesn’t have any more nightmares that night.

---

Donna calls. The Titans have been on another off-planet mission. She asks if Dick is coming back soon.

“I don’t know,” Dick says. “Bruce is…Bruce isn’t doing well.”

Dick can practically hear her purse her lips over the phone. Dick and Donna tell each other everything. “You’re living with him again?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “Yeah, I…I am. Look, it’s really bad, Donna. I had to do something.”

“You don’t owe him anything.”

“I wanted to help him,” Dick says.

“Yeah,” Donna says. She sounds resigned. “Just…be careful, Dick. Please.”

“Always am.”

That’s a lie. They both know it.

---

The Joker returns to the tunnel that his henchmen set up. Along with him goes the Riddler.

Dick knows that with two villains, they’ll probably get split up. So when Bruce says that he’ll take the Joker and Dick will rescue the hostages playing one of the Riddler’s games, Dick holds out an escrima stick to stop him in his tracks.

“What?” Bruce growls.

“You get the hostages, B. I’ll deal with the Joker.”

“I don’t want you facing him alone.”

“Tough luck,” Dick says. Bruce may not be beating street-level thugs to near-death right now, but Dick doesn’t trust him against the Joker. Hell, Dick doesn’t even fully trust himself. “I can take care of myself.”

“Fine,” Bruce agrees reluctantly. Dick can see how difficult it is for the man, allowing Dick to face the Joker, and he’s grateful that Bruce manages to agree.

They split ways. Dick follows the tunnel, disarming booby traps until he finds the Joker perched atop a throne. Dick sighs.

“This ends here,” Dick says. “Whatever fucked-up scheme you concocted now, it’s over. I’d recommend you come quietly.” He bares his teeth. “Wouldn’t want to give me an excuse.”

The Joker doesn’t respond. Dick steps closer, wary of traps. Another step. Another step. Something’s off about the Joker. Something’s really off.

Another step. The Joker’s face has a waxy sheen.

Another step. That’s not just some bad makeup. That’s…

Dick spots the bomb strapped to the wax figure’s back.

“Fuck.”

His first instinct is to run, but a cave-in here could be disastrous. He tries to estimate the distance he travelled, and he guesses he’s right underneath the Narrows right now. And Dick does not trust Gotham tunnel inspectors.

Dick rushes forward. Two minutes on the clock. Only one bomb, as far as he can tell.

He makes quick work of it. A minute in, and the bomb’s disabled. Dick looks around. He must be missing something. A trap’s never just a trap, with the Joker. It’s never this easy.

Fear shoots through Dick. Of course. It’s not a trap for him. It’s a trap for Batman.

Dick takes off in the direction of the Riddler’s game, where he assumes the Joker will also be.

He arrives just in time to see the bullet hit.

Brain matter splatters all over his face, and Dick can’t breathe.

---

“Dick.”

Dick isn’t here. He isn’t. He isn’t here. Not here.

This is a nightmare.

Dick has had this nightmare before. He picks up a gun and shoots the Joker, and it feels good. Bruce picks up a gun and shoots himself. Bruce picks up a gun and shoots Jason. Bruce shoots the Joker. Bruce shoots the Joker. Bruce shoots the Joker.

“Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick whispers, but it’s a lie. It’s a fucking lie. Batman doesn’t kill, but Dick watched him shoot the Joker and he doesn’t even know how it happened. Just that the Joker’s head exploded and Bruce stared at him and then said, quietly, “I’m sorry, Dick,” and then everything went sort of fuzzy and—

His lips feel disconnected from his body. He wants to talk, to scream, to beg. To ask why. Why did Bruce do this? Bruce, who hates guns with his whole soul. Who sees the good in everyone. Who could never kill.

Was Dick just lying to himself this whole time? Pretending like he could help Bruce, like he was what Bruce needed, like he could stand in for the magic of Robin?

Cold water hits Dick’s face. It’s a decontamination shower. Why is he in a decontamination shower?

Blood runs out of his hair, flowing off his suit and swirling around the drain. Oh. That’s why.

The Joker is dead. Dick knows that, because Bruce checked for a pulse, face stony. Bruce killed the Joker. And Dick didn’t stop him.

Because Dick could have jumped in front of that bullet. There was a split-second, where he saw Bruce’s finger tense on the trigger. Where he knew what was going to happen. And he watched. He watched it happen.

The water turns off. Someone presses a towel into Dick’s hands. He just stares at it blankly, before sliding down to sit on the stone floor. He should change out of the Nightwing suit, probably. But it’s so difficult to even twitch one of his fingers. Bruce sits down a few feet away from him.

“You killed him,” Dick says eventually.

“Yes,” Bruce agrees. “I did.”

“Why?”

“He had a detonator. He was going to kill the hostages. And I didn’t know where you were—he might have. He might have killed you too.” Bruce wraps an arm around Dick’s shoulders. Dick feels empty inside. He should—he should feel revolted, shouldn’t he? This is a—this is a killer.

(But this is his father. This is Bruce.)

“You always find another way,” Dick says.

“I didn’t want to.” Bruce inhales deeply. “I’m sorry, Dick. I’m sorry that this happened. But I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Dick closes his eyes. He can smell blood, thick and metallic. Can practically taste it. But he also smells Bruce, and the unique scent of the Batcave, and—

How did it end up like this? Dick was supposed to help.

“I’m sorry,” he ends up whispering. “I failed you, Bruce. I’m so sorry.”

Bruce pulls him close. Dick can feel himself start to cry. He doesn’t deserve to cry. He’s just as responsible for this as Bruce. “You didn’t fail me,” Bruce promises.

“I did,” Dick mumbles. “I did, I failed you. I failed you.”

“Don’t say that,” Bruce tries to order, but Dick’s never been good at following orders. “You did not.”

Dick swallows. “You were always there to catch me and I…I let you fall.”

A hand runs through his hair. Dick lets himself rest against Bruce. They’re murderers, the both of them. Dick doesn’t want to pull away and find out what comes next. “Dick, look at me. Please.” Reluctantly, Dick opens his eyes to look up. “This is not your fault. This was my decision alone, and you couldn’t have…you couldn’t have stopped me.”

But Bruce doesn’t get it. It was his decision, but it was a decision Dick let him make. Dick knew Bruce shouldn’t be out in the field. He knew he shouldn’t split from Bruce when hunting down the Joker. He knew that Batman was violent and dangerous and unpredictable, but he couldn’t see past Bruce.

Dick still can’t see past Bruce. Because he should be fighting him and throwing him in containment, but he’s not, he’s not. He’s just letting Bruce hold him, comfort him, lie to him.

Suddenly, a horrible thought strikes Dick. It takes root in his stomach, and grows and grows and grows until he can’t ignore it. It makes too much sense. “This isn’t the first time,” Dick whispers, “is it?”

Bruce lowers his head. “No, Dick, it isn’t.”

Dick pushes himself away from Bruce and stands up. Bruce stays seated. “When?” He demands.

“Before you got here. I stopped caring. I only…I only realized he was dead after I left the scene. I went back, and there wasn’t any pulse. I didn’t mean to,” Bruce says, like that matters.

Dick doesn’t know what to say to that. “That’s why Alfred left, isn’t it?” Bruce nods. Dick tries to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I should take you to Arkham.”

“Okay,” Bruce says, resignation filling his voice.

“I need to stop you,” Dick says. “I—you’ve gone too far. You’ve broken all your own rules. I need to.”

Bruce just closes his eyes.

“Say something!” Dick shouts.

Bruce looks straight up at Dick. “I accept your judgement.”

“You’re supposed to fight me,” Dick screams. “You’re supposed to say you’re right, you’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong, you’re supposed to put me in a cell until I agree, you’re not supposed to just come quietly!”

“I’m not going to fight you.” Bruce swallows. “You’ve always been better than me, Dick.”

Dick laughs. “That’s why you let me come to the Manor, isn’t it? It’s not because you wanted me back. It’s because you wanted me to judge you! I was a fool for thinking I was welcome, wasn’t I?”

“No,” Bruce says. It’s finally something other than the quiet acceptance of before. Arguing feels right. “No, Dick. I…I wanted you to stay. It was selfish. I let you stay against my better judgement. I didn’t want you involved at all, to know about this. I wanted to spare you this burden. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t.”

Dick kneels down next to Bruce. “I don’t think I can put you in Arkham.” It’s true, and Dick hates himself for it.

“That’s okay, Dick,” Bruce says. “Should I turn myself in?”

Dick closes his eyes. “Don’t put this on me, Bruce. Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t make this my responsibility.”

“There’s always room for you in the League,” Bruce says softly. “You have Clark and Diana’s respect. And, of course, there’s Titans. If you can’t stay, if you can’t have any part in this, I understand.”

Dick shakes his head and settles so he’s leaning against the wall only inches away from Bruce. Bruce doesn’t reach out to him again. “I already have a part in this.”

“You don’t, Dick. I swear you don’t.”

“I should have been there,” Dick whispers. “I left you. I left you to grieve alone after Jason’s death. I knew I should’ve pushed. I knew I shouldn’t have left. I—”

“No,” Bruce says harshly. “No. I made you leave. You made the right decision. No one would blame you for leaving after that. The fact that—the fact that you came back at all is a miracle.”

And Dick can’t help himself. He reaches for Bruce’s wrist and twists his fingers around to feel the pulse. And it’s there, it’s there, strong. Alive.

“I understand, Dick, if you can’t follow me down this road. I understand if you need to stop me.”

“I can’t stop you,” Dick admits.

“That’s okay, Chum.”

Dick leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Okay.”

“I know I should,” Dick says. Bruce doesn’t deny it. “I want to stay. I want you to live.”

“You will always be welcome here. Even if you decide you can’t be here anymore.”

“What would Jason think of us now?” Dick asks.

“I don’t know,” Bruce whispers.

Did Jason push Garzonas? Or did the rapist slip? Would Jason have approved of Bruce killing the Joker? Or would he see it as a betrayal?

Neither of them can ask him. Neither of them can turn back time, and neither of them can speak to the dead.

“What happens next?” Dick asks.

Bruce’s hand cards through Dick’s hair once more, slow and soothing. “We go on.”

#dick grayson #fanfiction #batman #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dick grayson fanfiction #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #dc #dcu #fanfic

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otterlyfoolish · 5 months

Text

Eat Crow

(Zombieman x GN!Reader)

Warnings: Mentioned Human Experimentation, Animal Death, Abandonment, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Swearing, Blood & gore (come on this is ZM), self-harm (ZM does some reckless things), there's probably other things in here that I can't think of right now so if you're particularly sensitive maybe you should just avoid this,

Tags: Pining, borderline romance, strangers to friends, maybe lovers (in the future), Reader is starved for any kind of companionship, Unstoppable force & Immovable object, oneshot, angst, comfort (very barely), open-ended ending, so much build-up for a fucking oneshot, not edited so sorry

Word count: 11k

Summary:

Zombieman had what he thought was a simple case: "Find the source of the toxins in the assigned area."

One of his specialities is investigating contaminated or toxic areas - places that only robots or cyborgs could reach, areas where organic matter struggled to make it out alive. Other heroes would be dispatched to a monster infestation, and he would be sent to the local ghost town. This was fine to him - he would describe himself as more of an investigator than a hero anyways. So, in one way, this task was like no other.

In another way, he's never seen a case as peculiar as this. A product of human experimentation, just like him. He's never really had a case like this before. Curiously, they didn't seem to want to admit it. He can't blame them for their decision either - especially not after he found out some reasons why. And it's not like he could have found out the normal way - after all, what's considered poisonous to a dead man?

So, he couldn't quite complete his investigation - at that point, he couldn't really confirm or deny his suspicions. That is until he saw their touch wilt a crow's life within seconds.

...Well, the crow is already dead. You just have to eat it now.

-----

Ao3 Link here, if you prefer reading there!

A/N: I'm mostly writing this to ward off my impulses for the other idea I have for ZM - I can't start another multi chapter fic on him when I've not even finished the other one I'm writing right now... (TBH if I just dedicated my time writing this into that, I might have been able to finish it... Uhhh I just won't think about that)

I've kept this on the drafts so long, but now I've finally vomited it out (I ran it through a spell checker, not even edited) - I hope that it's coherent because I struggle editing so much, and I don't know if I have it in me to make it more articulate than it is... Uhhh story isn't fluid sorry (>>_>>)

But if I used the wrong pronouns for the Reader (anything that's not they/them) please feel free to point it out since it is supposed to be Gender-Neutral!

---

"QUARANTINED AREA AHEAD"

"TOXIC WASTE NEARBY"

"LEAVE NOW"

The danger signs were littered everywhere.

From the very moment he even came near the location - even miles away, he was warned not to approach. As he got closer, the signs and fences only increased in frequency. Just a few caution signs at first, illustrated by the humble exclamation mark. Then the potentially comedic skull and bones - pirates would be overjoyed at the sight of so many of them. And finally the unnerving biohazard symbol appears. He's never liked the look of it - maybe because he doesn't understand what it was actually supposed to be, or maybe it reminded him too much of Dr. Genus' lab - the same symbols were also hung up everywhere, the scientist liked to be organised after all.

The final hurdle was in sight now - a chain-linked fence with barbed wires that had rust collecting on the bright red sign that hung brazenly on the door.

"DANGER: YOUR LIFE IS AT RISK FROM THIS POINT FORWARD"

He nodded at the final warning as if letting the inanimate object know that he acknowledges the danger, then swung his axe against the metal lock, easily snapping it in half. Time must have also wore the lock down, helping the process of decay because it behaved far too flimsy.

If most people showed me as much concern as these signs did, then I would be out of a job.

He pushes on the door, the hinges on the door creak loudly as if it was doing a drum roll for his demise. As he walks through, he's careful to shut the door behind him and lock it with another one - the one he brought in preparation for this. As he does so, he notices that the key for it must have fallen out on the way over. It was his fault for not repairing the hole in his pocket after tearing it from his last brawl.

No way out now I guess...

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and rubs the cherry on the back of his hand before he drops it on the floor, crushing it with his black boots. Just as quickly as the cigarette left his mouth, another replaces it, the lighter coming up as if joined together with the cigarette. The nicotine was too addicting, he didn't mind the lethal poison that accompanied the chemical potentially affecting his body.

He's been critiqued on his bad habits by a fellow hero before, the smoke was just flat out unhealthy to have near people, so he should stop.

(He puts it nicer than what was actually said - Tatsumaki had gathered the all of the smoke in the room with her powers and stuffed it back into his lungs, hissing out hostile remarks as she did so. The product of a particularly bad day. Apparently she couldn't find any monsters to kill, and that caused her foul mood. It doesn't help that he was probably the closest thing to a monster she found that day.)

Even so, Zombieman couldn't disagree with the comments made, and though he never stopped smoking, the thought always flashed in his mind for the briefest of moments.

But this time he lit it without any guilt of others. This was a completely isolated area, where the air was already considered toxic to all organic matter. What's the harm of adding a little bit more poison in the air?

He dragged a large cloud of smoke out from his lips as he exhaled, almost like a sigh of relief from the long journey. Almost drearily, his eyes followed the grey mist drift through the air before it quickly dissipated into the atmosphere, the very last remnants of it lingered in one spot before fully turning transparent. His red pupils slowly fixated on that spot as he spotted the building he was headed towards.

...Break over. Back to work.

His arm slung the axe over his shoulder, resting the weight of the metal head in the crook of his neck as he continued his descent to his destination. He walked with calm confidence, not fitting of a man that's entering a toxic waste zone, but that suited him.

The thrill of an investigation was too addicting, he didn't mind about the dangers that had been constantly waved in his direction.

Perhaps the danger even added to the thrill of it.

-----

"Toxic waste land...? Hm." He murmured to himself as the read over the file they sent him. The low clicking of the train wheels was just as faint as his voice as he spoke. Zombieman positioned himself to a quiet corner of the fairly empty train, the folder in front of him messily sprawled out, but in a fairly controlled manner.

He had requested it to be in paper format, call him old-fashioned, but he viewed the information to be more tangible that way. Besides, he often breaks the phone the Hero Association provides him anyways. Once Child Emperor had leaped at the opportunity to make him an 'unbreakable' phone after hearing the staff members talk about how this was the 'fourth one this week', it had a pretty good run, but he still lost it in the end.

...It makes him feel bad to bother the kid for another one, so he'll just do this until Isamu notices and chucks him another. He'll treat it more carefully this time, he didn't realise just how much shitter the one's he gets from the Hero Association is. Isamu really was a genius, but he didn't want to pressure him too much.

He flips through the information provided, it was choppy. The testimonies didn't seem clear, and there wasn't a lot found by HA. Well, a lack of information never stopped him. His red eyes scanned the pages, picking up what he deemed the most vital snippets of data and committed it to memory.

"...Laboratory...", "...Mithridate...", "...Antidote...", "...Pancea...", "Dozens died from poisoning", "...Scientists Evacuate...", "...Local Town Falls Sick From Mysterious Illness...", "...Abandoned Area...", "...No Organic matter found in the vicinity..."

He concluded after reading it, there used to be a remote laboratory out this far that was focusing on creating strong antidotes. But it seemed that they weren't able to control it effectively enough, and apparently some sort of sample hadn't been contained properly had caused many of the scientists to die from poisoning. It seems that even though they tried their best to clean the place and dispose of the source, there was still trace amounts lingering and many workers became sick. The entire building was forced to evacuate - and a few years later, apparently some of the people that had lived nearby had to be admitted to the larger general hospitals. It started happening too frequently without any obvious cause and people started moving away. Satellite scans showed that the grass around this place slowly started dying, and bird avoided migrating near the area all together.

All in all, an typical case for him. He predicts the following days to be somewhat laid back. His only objective was to find what was the source. The implication in that was that he didn't even have to get rid of it, only report back.

There was something bothering him though. Like when you feel your feet shift a little too much - you're nervous but you don't know why. Or when you felt a pair of eyes watching you, but you couldn't place who in the crowd of people would spend so much time on you.

Current suspicion: There was something more to this case.

They could simply send one of their many drones to check out the area, scope out if there's a leak that's causing the increase of toxins detected. But they sent him.

His first thought: They suspected there was a monster there, and wanted him to kill it.

He could do that, they often do when they're worried about a particularly dangerous monsters most heroes couldn't defeat without wearing it down massively. But they didn't say anything in the report - they kept it hidden from him. To feign ignorance of the missing piece of the puzzle before even asking him for assistance.

...But why?

He's never shown hesitation to brutalise monsters. It's written in his fucking Encyclopedia page - something Bang had showed him after his disciple had pointed it out to him, and the old man just had to pass on the message, chuckling at the descriptors. Something something about how gore and death followed him or something along those lines.

...Is it related to Dr. Genus?

He clenches the paper a little too tightly, crumpling the otherwise pristine pages. The Hero Assocication might have had an inkling to his past. He never talked about it much, but did they find out? He wouldn't put it pass them - staying private in this day and age was getting more and more difficult by the day even if it would do both parties good if they stayed in their own lane. If they did know about his days of being an experimental sample, why were they assigning him to this case?

...Was this their way of turning their cheek the other way? By letting him confront his own past alone?

"...Sir?" He hears the train conductor walk over to him, nervously eyeing him up as the scowl on his face grows deeper at the thought of meeting the Doctor again. "This is the last stop." He hears as he snaps out of his thoughts, tilting his head up to look at the lady.

"...Thanks."

"...Are you sure about getting off here? There's nothing for a few dozen miles..."

"I'm sure. Thank you." He said, picking up the axe he had placed on the wooden floorboards, but didn't raise it above his head to rest on his shoulder like usual. Instead, he kept the metal head close to the ground, the blade pointed towards him and never her. He didn't want to alarm the lady.

"No, it's fine... I've not seen someone get off at this stop for perhaps a couple years now... It's nice to see people still come here in this little corner of the world - you know there's a forest a hour or so west from here? Beautiful place, you should check it out." She rambled on, the smile on her face causing the corners of her eyes to wrinkle. "Used to go there when I was young, took this same train out. I'm just a little too old for that now."

He nodded politely at her, taking note of the sun spots speckled on her skin. "...You're still younger than me, so there's no need to talk like that."

Besides, it's a privilege to be able to age. I'm sick of looking at the same damned thing everyday.

"Oh, aren't you a charmer..." She laughed, slowly escorting him down over to the train doors. He trotted after her, his boots made a small sound with each step he took. "Don't forget, the next time this train will be here is at eight tonight. Don't be late or you'll have to spend the night camping." She said, only getting a simple nod from him before the doors closed on her.

...A forest? I guess the toxins or whatever hasn't spread that far yet then...

As he walked away, he raised his axe back up and slammed it back on his shoulder, resting it there. Something of an reminder that he's on duty.

He's grown used to the weight of the axe.

-----

The building is fairly large - almost industrial. He could see it as a speck in the distance, but as he approached, he see that it's size wasn't anything much to be scoffed at. Definitely not at big at the ones he's seen at HA, but still, impressive.

As he approached the laboratory, he could see a... Fully-clad yellow figure running full speed at him.

Like second nature, he pulled out the guns from his sleeves and swung his axe back down to his midsection, his palms tightly gripping the weapons. It couldn't be a civilian - they would be fatally ill at this point from being this close to the site.

His blood-coloured eyes scanned the person (or perhaps monster) sprinting up at him. At closer inspection, he could tell that it was a human wearing a hazmat suit.

...Zombieman slowly retracted his desert eagle back into his trench coat and the axe also returned to its last position. There didn't seem like there was an danger yet, more so someone he needs to interrogate.

...Maybe there's still some people working here without anyone knowing?

They were... waving at him? He raised his thin eyebrow at them, shifting over to a more relaxed stance than before. He waited for them to approach - and as this mysterious figure got closer, he could hear muffled shouting from them as their hand waving in the air got more frantic. He noted that in their other hand, there was a blue gas mask.

He debated snuffing out his cigarette, but kept it in his mouth. It's not like they would be affected judging by the protection they're already wearing.

By the time they were close enough to him so that he could hear their words, it didn't matter since they were huffing out their lungs trying to breath in as much air as they could. Sprinting must have been hard - the hazard suit and heavy boots didn't help do them any favours either.

"...Are you alright?" He asked, staring down at him as they doubled over. The sound of their heavy breathing was clear even through the thick suit.

Regardless of their exhausted state, they sluggishly yanked him down to their level and slapped the spare gas mask onto his face. "...uckING STUPID!"

The impact of the plastic against his face caused him to glare at them with squinted eyes as he took the mask. He didn't bother dodging it - it's not like the action was malicious anyways. The force of which the firm plastic wasn't painful enough for him to make a noise, but he still grunted from the shock of their actions. "...What'd you say?"

They didn't respond, seeming satisfied with the fact he taken the respirator from them already and just crumpled back over on their form. He gave them a moment to gather their breath. "...Don't you know that this is a toxic area...? What the hell are you doing without any equipment...?"

He crouches down to their level, seeing as they were still catching their breath and he couldn't quite hear between their suit and the small distance. "I don't need it. What are you doing here?"

They tilted their head over to him, seeing that he had taken the blue mask off and just hung it around his neck by the strap. "...I live here."

Live? Not work?

"...Then don't you know that this is a toxic area?" He parroted the question back to them, trying to look into their eyes, or face, only to see that the glass they see out of is a reflective surface. Only his red eyes locked on with his own. His

"The inside of my house is safe, when I go out I wear this." There's something about the way in which they said it which made him think that they had rolled their eyes at him as they spoke.

"House?" He brushed off their attitude quickly, he didn't really care about it to begin with anyways, "what house?"

"Why would I tell a stranger where I live?" They snapped back, getting back up on their feet. Zombieman quickly followed suit. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"I'm a Hero. I've been sent here to find the source of the poison in this area." As if on cue, their head tilted at him in disbelief. He goes on to answer further, hoping it would dispel any more of their suspicion. "...You can call me Zombieman."

He could tell even without any facial expressions to help him nothing he said was convincing. "...Alright, 'Hero Zombieman'... If you've been sent here to investigate, then why didn't they send you off with any equipment with you? We both know that this isn't the safest place to be."

A reasonable question, he supposes. He just hopes that the answer he gives them is just as logical in their eyes. "I can't die - hence my name."

"...Can't die?" They repeated slowly, taking a few steps back from him. He could see the distrust in their body language, and he wanted to fill the gap quickly - they probably had a lot of information on this area he didn't. "...Don't lie to me, everything dies."

He nodded at them, trying to indicate that he acknowledges their suspicion then pulled his gun back out. They're not given much time to react to it, as the muzzle was pointed at his temple, his finger on the trigger. "I'll prove it."

Just as he pulled the trigger ever so slightly, he notices in that split second they've close the distance between them instantly. Their hands shooting out to tear the weapon out of his hands-

Only for him to tilt it ever so slightly upwards from its original position in surprise - instead of the bullet going through his skull at a straight line, it was just angled slightly differently, shooting through the top of his skull.

They froze up at the sight - the pink of the bone and the pink of his brains, the smell of blood was thick and metallic. They could smell it even through their suit, and nothing about their protection could block the sight of his hand. Limp. In your grasp.

Zombieman examined at them from the corner of his eyes, feeling that their hands was trembling slightly through the thick gloves they wore. It was from either the sight of his skull being blown open or the fact they thought he was now dead.

...I wanted to close the gap between us, but not physically...

"...Proof enough?" He asks, moving his head to face them. They practically leaped back, even in the chunky boots and protective gear they were wearing, they found themselves a couple feet even further than before.

...Was that too much?

No, I only shot myself. That's nothing.

...Am I too numb to gore compared to the average person?

"...Yeah. Yeah. I believe you." They say, their voice shaking as they watched the hole slowly fill itself back up again. First the grey matter in the brain, then the pink plating of the skull, and finally his pale skin and dark hair. It was as if nothing had ever happened - the only proof that they had was the dark streaks of blood that ran down his temple and the small splatters of flesh that had ended up on them. They did their best to quickly compose themselves."...So... Uhm... Do- do you need anything...?"

He nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at their reaction. Yeah, it was too much to witness. Next time, he'll just cut his hand off or something. "Could you get me into that laboratory? I want to inspect it to see if I can find anything inside."

"...I can do that, follow me." They agreed, probably still in shock and stiffly placed one foot in front of the other, their hands having the same nature of movement - almost mechanically.

He was quiet for a minute, looking around the building. He wanted to ask more questions about them, but he had a feeling he needed to build back some sort of foundation of trust again if he wanted any good answers. Short, snippy ones aren't bad, but more detail is better this time.

"...What's your name?" He starts off simple.

They slowly moved their head over in his direction, stopping in their tracks. He briefly thinks for a moment that asking for that was too soon, but when he hears your name slowly uttered from your lips the thought is gone. He could sense the uncertainty of his character coming off in waves, but you still chose to tell him.

He nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."

"...And I don't think I'll be able to forget yours." He could hear you mumble faintly as you took long strides over to the entrance door. "Mr. 'Can't die'..."

...I don't mind if you were able to find a way to change that name of mine.

He didn't correct your words, and accepted his newfound alias. "How come you have access to the lab?"

It took you a while to respond, at first he just thought you didn't hear him or maybe you were busy fiddling with the keypad on the door, but it seems that you were considering telling him or not.

...Zombieman lowered his axe, resting it at his side. He may still be on duty, and it's not even the weapon he used to shoot himself, but it's not like he needed it this very moment. And if it helped soothe your worries even a little, then it will have been worth it.

When you get the door open, you turn back around to face him. He still can't see your eyes, but he could feel yours staring at him - cautiously inspecting him and his intentions before opening the door. "...This is where I live." You answered him.

...Huh, it worked.

He hummed appreciatively through his cigarette, reaching up and holding the door open for you. You paused your movements for a moment and nodded back, "...Thanks."

"No problem." He replied back, then followed after you, shutting the door after himself. When he walks in, he realises that the entrance is double sealed - one door after another to ensure that as little toxic gas leaves or enters. "So, you live in a lab...?" He says, practically repeating already known information in the hopes you'll slip out a little more data for him to piece together.

"Mhm. There's lab equipment everywhere." You say, though not intentional, your tone was pretty dismissive. It makes him wonder if he should play the long game or the short game.

He sticks to the former - besides, if he's really pressed up for time for whatever reasons, he can resort to more... forceful methods.

You open the other door, pressing even more buttons on the security system before beckoning him to follow through, holding the door open for him. "Quick - if you're there for too long, the doors will automatically shut and won't open without a special password."

"Oh." He nodded, the sounds of his boots increasing before the heavy door clicked securely shut. The two of you were now locked in together - he wonders if you're more anxious than him about the situation. One hand hand, he could be locked in with a mad scientist and be subjected to experimentation once again. On the other hand, he was a man that doesn't exactly have any indication of sane mental health paired with the fact he has a fair variety of weapons on his person ready to go any moment.

...They should be more scared than me.

"Do you work here?" He asks, trying to place down the foundations of trust.

"Yeah...?" You say, your thick gloves grabbing the other and pulling them off. "I'm... something of a researcher. Or something along those lines." The way you said it could be viewed as avoidant, or simply distracted - judging by the way your now exposed hands was fiddling with the hazard suit, taking it off and throwing them into a large plastic container off to the side of the door. Presumably to be disinfected and reused. "I've just been told to stay here until the toxins reach an acceptable level. Then I'm free to leave."

He narrowed his eyes at you, taking mental notes on your choice of words and actions. It was entirely unconscious behaviour, akin to second nature - Zombieman was already crafting a mental corkboard of everything he knew about this place and you. You took the final piece off, your large headpiece, finally revealing your face to him.

His eyes fixated on you, his red irises re-examined your figure, taking new mental notes to add to his corkboard. His eyes found their way following a sweat drop that traced the side of your face, a small trail of liquid trailed down your facial features before the head of it became too small to follow anymore. He briefly wondered it that sweat was a shade or two darker than it was supposed to be, but concluded that it was just the lighting of the room. "...Hot in that thing, huh?"

"...Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I'm not really used to it..." You say, not noticing him observing you.

...Not used to the hazmat suit, I don't recognise them from the list of scientists provided, and they're uncertain about their role.

Current thoughts: You've turned out more suspicious than he thought.

-----

Nervously, your eyes kept glancing over to him, drinking in every detail of him that you could with each glance. At first, you thought it was the glass of your suit playing tricks on your vision when you spotted his red eyes, but even when you took your headpiece off and looked over him again, they were still red.

Blood red, to be more specific, especially now that you had a very, very recent reminder of the colour of blood.

His skin was almost porcelain white, but there was something of a grey undertone to it. His hair was a ink black and his getup didn't have a single drop of colour - the only thing you could even perhaps suggest that had a hue was the buckles of his (many) belts strung tightly against his chest. Everything combined, this monochrome sense of fashion contrasted with his striking red eyes and dark eye bags made it incredibly easy for you to focus on his face. Basically a sinkhole of attention.

Zombieman... From that name, you'd expect more decay, but...

...He's handsome. You concluded, as you kept finding your eyes shifting over to him as you showed him about the place. But he's also scary. Why would he shoot himself to prove a point...?

"Are you gonna show me around...?" He asked after what must have been you staring a little too long at him.

"Sorry." You say, turning your head away from him. Despite looking at him so carefully, you couldn't pick up on his mild discomfort. You try to remedy the situation, giving a honest reason to your actions should suffice, right? "...I was just thinking that you're very visually appealing."

The answer seems to shock him, or at the very least, throw him off his feet a little. His eyes widened at your response before he tilting his face slightly to his right clearing his throat into the sleeve of his trench coat. His left hand seemed to tighten his grip around his axe. "...Thank you."

You think that you shouldn't have said that - was he uncomfortable? You don't really have much of a chance to interact with people, and it's leaves you wondering your next move.

...Should I apologise? What did I do wrong? Is there such thing as too honest?

On quick glance back up at him, tells you that if he did feel uncomfortable by you, he's recovered. He's leaning against the plain white walls with his axe by his side. You note the fact he still hasn't raised it back onto his shoulder - whatever the reason for this, it somewhat made you feel more relaxed.

"...Uh, I'll take you around the first floor first...? It's mostly just like laboratory equipment, but it might help you?" You say, trying to gauge his reaction.

He simply nodded, and as you took your first step, so did he. You glanced back to see that he was a step or two closer behind you than before as you walked down the large white hallways.

...I hope that he leaves soon.

Just before you stepped through into another set of doors, there was a few equipment littered on the walls of the lab. Coats, gloves, masks. Though, you've used and ruined most of them at this point.

Please, please, leave.

You watched him place down the gas mask you had given him earlier alongside the other ones lined up on the wall for anyone to take. The others were faulty at this point, the one he put back down was one of the only ones that still functioned at this point.

It's not safe here, even for you.

-----

"...That thing..." You say, gesturing to him, your index finger waved over his face a couple times. "...smells terrible. Do you need it or something?"

He raised one eyebrow at you, wondering if his breath smelt for a moment before realising what you were saying. "...My cigarette?" He asked, taking it out of his mouth, bringing it a little closer to you to confirm your request. Your lips tightened and your eyebrows narrowed at the distance decreasing. So it is. "I suppose that I don't need it."

"Yeah, that... cigarette." You say, slowly rolling the word out on your tongue as you took a step back. "If you don't need it, can you get rid of it? There's vents all over the place, but I'm worried that smell will linger if you keep using it."

"...Sure, do you have an ash tray or something of that kind?" He asked, rubbing the lit part of the cigarette over the back of his hand. The burning sensation felt like it was shorter each time - the initial burn from the very first time he put out his smoke was almost exciting to feel. Now, it feels like pointless rebellion.

You looked at him, blinking. It took you a second to respond to him, trying to think of what would be suitable. Your eyes glanced around the room, landing on the shelf of conical flasks, before the blanket hung up on the wall that's placed there in case of a fire emergency.

...He thinks he likes the way your features scrunched up as you rapidly skimmed through all of the available items. You looked like you were in in deep thought over something rather minor - maybe he likes the way you took him so seriously, or was it the way you were so confident you could find a replacement within the confines of the room within seconds?

It didn't take you too long to find something. "...There's sand bins. Will that do?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and you walked over to the bucket filled with sand - presumably, it was to put out fires, but it could also be repurposed for a more crude use. Your hands wrapped around the bucket's handle, planning to bring it over to him, but he simply just followed after you and smothered the cherry into the sand. There was no chance of it catching fire now.

You nodded at him, then pointed at another table with glass equipment on top, giving a rather detail explanation to him as you picked up different parts - he was barely listening, his mind quickly filing away this odd morsel of information about you as he got back to his actual work.

...Have they never seen a cigarette before?

I mean, public smoking places are less and less common nowadays, but still...

He thought your behaviour was strange, but it'd be rude to point out. He let you continue guiding him around the lab. Besides, if you felt comfortable enough to tell him to stop smoking, then you must be somewhat amicable towards giving him more intel.

-----

The two of you finish the tour of the first floor, and you glanced over to the clock on the wall. "...I'm gonna head off to lunch. You can join if you want." You say, walking away from him and into another room. He peered in - seems like a break room for staff. He debated joining you, or wandering off on his own to investigate.

The former wins as he argues that he could just wander about later. It didn't seem like you were rushing about to get him to leave quickly anyways. If anything, he'd say you enjoyed the company judging by how he often caught you waiting for him to catch up when he spotted something of interest. Or when you stared at him intently when he spoke, taking his questions to heart.

...Or it could be for another reason. Tons of people flocked to Amai Mask for one big reason, Zombieman just... never suspected he'd be on the receiving end of the same kind of attention.

...'Visually appealing.' What is that supposed to mean?

As he enters the break room, he spots you waiting patiently by the microwave. There's a rather large pile of delivery boxes collected in the corner of the room. Perhaps one would feel shame at a 'guest' of sorts seeing the mess, but you didn't seem to care much. Upon noticing him, you opened the microwave door and added another packet of food.

I guess I'm eating too now.

He stands next to you, pretending to also wait for lunch, but in reality he just stared at you from the corner of his eyes. It doesn't take you long to return the action, your pupils also shifting over to his direction.

The two of you share eye contact until you turn away and go back to staring at the packets of food spinning around in the microwave. He lets out something of a cough, then goes to check his phone, (It's not like the could just whip out the files he had brought with him right in front of you anyways), maybe you were on the lists of scientists, and he just doesn't remember you that well.

Your eyes are casted away from your lunch, catching the glimpse of movement in the corner of your eyes. "...Whoa, you have a real nice phone..."

He tilts his head up at you, then turns the screen off before giving his device a quick spin for you to see if you wanted. You nodded at this, as if you were some sort of phone collector inspecting the goods before buying.

"No," he shakes his head, giving it a closer inspection as he spun it despite already giving it a verdict. "It can't even withstand falling off a skyscraper."

"...I don't think that's a good way to measure it." You say, a ghost of a smile on your lips. "Here." You fiddled with your pockets, before pulling out what he thinks is a brick at first as you carelessly held it out to him. "Here's one I found a couple years ago. Under my Dad's desk."

"...Maybe I do have a nice phone." He says, staring down at the device as you let out a small laugh out at him.

The phone was pretty old.

The equipment in the lab also looks quite old, but I don't know enough about it to know if it's actually old, or if it's just old compared to Isamu's hoard of equipment.

It seems like you had enough money to deliver food to yourself, but not enough to fund your research. You probably aren't being paid.

Probably because you aren't a real researcher.

But his conclusion just brings more questions than answers - why would you stay out here if you aren't getting paid well? You've been tasked with staying here until the toxins have subsided, but why would you do that? Money clearly wasn't the reason - maybe it was something more personal. His eyes meandered across the room until it landed.

Maybe it was your Dad.

"...Say, your dad worked here too?" He asks, slowly reaching out to take the phone from you, feigning fake interest in the device in your hands. His cold fingers brushed against your skin making your breath hitch - practically throwing the phone away from yourself.

He caught it before it collided against the surface of the table, but he wasn't even looking at the phone anymore as his eyes shifted over to you, examining your body language quickly to figure out what caused that reaction from you.

You held one hand in the other, your eyes fixated on him, one foot back and holding your breath as if you were waiting for one of you to drop on the floor. The two of you shared a look, the room sinking into a tense quietness. Just as he was about to speak, apologise, anything that felt right to say, you babbled something to dispel the tension.

"O-Oh! Yeah!" You exclaimed, slowly taking your footing back to it's original position. He didn't care so much about the answer anymore after your reaction but still, he listened. "My mother did too. Uh, both of them worked together. H-here."

"Huh..." He nodded, accepting the fact the two of you will skip past that moment. He felt his hand tingle from where your skin touched it - it was almost the same sensation as the one he used to get when pressing the lit part of the cigarette against his skin. Burning, hot. Maybe painful to a normal person but an fleetingly exciting moment to him. "And then you started working here too?"

"...Uh, yeah. Been here for a long time." You say, the words slow to come out. Your eyes drifted away from him and your hand slowly reached back over to the phone he had caught and placed on the table before retracting it back into your pockets. "Actually, I've been here... for a really long time."

He nodded, "how long?"

You didn't answer him at first, only tilted your face over to his direction. You looked... lost. Like you weren't sure what you were doing, or what's even going on. A sense of distant confusion with a vague or faraway goal. "I... don't know."

He frowned. You didn't seem like you were bad-intentioned, but you also seemed like a vital part of this mystery. "How come?"

You pursed your lips, turning away from him again before the microwave went off. The beeps echoed through the silence of the lunch room.

"...Lunch is ready." You say, opening the door of it. "You don't have any allergies do you?"

"No, but even if I did," he made some sort of general motion towards himself. You made a 'Ohh' sound. Some colour returned to your face that he didn't quite realise had left it.

...They don't know? How is that possible?

Also, their parents worked here, and now they do as well. They're most likely staying here not out of choice - are they trapped here? Threatened to stay? Guilt? You couldn't pay most people to stay in such a dangerous area.

"I've just been told to stay here until the toxins reach an acceptable level. Then I'm free to leave."

...What kind of messed up family business is this?

Zombieman could only see the rabbit hole grow deeper the longer he looked in - yet he'll jump head first anyways. He was never much for self preservation.

That same trait comes the thought: if he touches your hand again will it burn the same thrilling way?

-----

After you showed him around the whole lab, he concluded that there was nothing there was still working - and even if there was, it wasn't anything large-scale enough to cause such a large waste area. In fact, the only experiment he saw was you spitting into a test tube and then running it through a machine. Something to do with how it can detect what kinds of chemicals are inside it.

But that machine was clearly broken since he recognised many of the listed items inside to be toxic. You had explained that you had fixed it up after finding it in the storage room, but since that room wasn't well maintained, there was a chance that the toxic air was just stuck inside it now. At least, that's the conclusion you came to, and he didn't see a reason to deny it.

Apart from that, it was mostly you just explaining what each room was and the equipment inside. The tour was over quicker than he thought - but there truly wasn't anything noteworthy. The past researchers had taken all of the papers with them, so he couldn't snoop around to see if there was any information he was missing. It didn't seem like you were trying to hide anything either. You've always seemed like you were honest - perhaps a little apprehensive, but most of that was mostly because, well, he was a stranger in your home.

"That's all... I think I'll get going to bed soon, do you need anything or..."

"No, that's all." He said. "I think I'll get going."

"...At this time?" You ask, seeing him walk out to the door, trying to open it. His hands pressed randomly against the wall's buttons. Quickly, you walked over to him. "Are you going home?"

"I've missed the train, so I can't really go back, but I've been given a recommendation to visit a forest." He says, watching you as you brushed his hands aside to help him open the sealed doors. It burned like before, "I think I'll go check it out," he thinks he wants to feel it again."...Then I'll probably come back with a fresh mind."

"...Seriously?" You asked, pulling the door open for him. "You're gonna spend the nights in the woods?"

"Well, it takes a while to walk over. By the time I get there, it might be sunrise." He says, walking through the first set of doors. Your eyes nervously switched between him and the door, unsure if he was really going to walk back out into the toxic wasteland. "Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow. Or if I find the source of the poison, this will be the last you'll be seeing me."

"...Yeah. That's... fine." You nodded, now trotting over to him, hand hovering over the keypad to let him out. The inner set of doors shut tightly behind you, a slight hissing sound as the air was compressed in the room, ensuring that none of the toxins got in as the vents whirred faster in anticipation. "Here, I'll let you go."

He paused, looking over at you. "Don't you need your hazmat suit?"

Your index finger stopped over one of the buttons as you started pressing the password to get out. "...No, it'll be fine. My parents said that I have a higher immunity to this sort of stuff anyways."

"...Okay, if you say so." He nodded, accepting your words. Every rotting bone in his body was screaming that there was something off about the way you said it, but his heart didn't utter a single peep in protest. He wonders if you're hiding the truth from him judging from his physical reaction to your words.

You nodded back at him, your eyes flicking back up at his for one more time before the door opens, a small gust of wind blew his hair back a little as the heavy entrance opened itself - exposing the two of you to the chilly evening air. "...It's nice meeting you." You say, your words as distant as you could muster with your almost wistful expression.

"...You too." He nodded simply, taking a step out, his boots landing on the dirt footing outside. He paused then turned his head back, speaking again as if he couldn't leave without finishing his all of his thoughts. "Real pleasure to meet you."

You blinked at him repeatedly, taken aback. There was... a slight smile on his face? You weren't given a chance to respond back before the doors let out loud 'beeps' rapidly and the doors slammed down.

He turned back around, taking a couple steps forwards as he languidly pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. His eyes casted over the cherry of the cigarette, watching it catch a flame as he took in a deep, slow breath, inhaling as much of the smoke he could. Impatient, he'd usually call himself for trying so hard to get the taste of the poison as quick as he did just moments after lighting it. It's just getting him more hooked on the nictotine (if he could be anymore addicted), it'll kill him faster (if he could die). But this time he won't fault himself even with all the negatives.

Smoking won't help relieve this... feeling, but it won't make it worse either, he supposes.

His boots forcefully move his body forward as he let out a low grumble.

Move. He urges himself. This is ridiculous. I barely know them.

"Wait!" He heard from behind him, and he found his head turning around without his input. "...I have some sort of car in the lab. Do... you want me to drive you to the forest...?" You ask, holding something of a car key attached to the lanyard around your neck, jangling the sliver object.

...Zombieman knows that it's not the first time you smoke you become addicted. It's the second time.

"Yeah, that's be great." He responses, the cigarette practically falling out of his mouth as he spoke, but he barely cared, only catching it in his hands and crushing it in his palm. It burned - but he barely felt it.

He didn't know that infatuation worked in a similar way to chemical addiction.

-----

You drove him over to the forest, his voice quietly murmuring out the directions for you to drive him. He had made some sort of comment on the car being a off-road vehicle, but you didn't fully get what he was trying to say.

The interior of the car was cold, the heater was very slowly warming it's way up. He insisted that it didn't bother him, but even so, you tried cranking that bloody thing up all the way. There's not much fuel in the car to begin with, but you didn't mind using it on him. It's not like you were going to be driving again.

"Keep going straight, try to avoid that rock if you can." He says, his hand motioning towards the obstacle on the ground.

"O-okay..." You nodded, trying your best to keep the car steady. There was practically sweat dripping down your arms from your nervousness. "Like this...?"

"Mhm." He nodded, "do you not drive often?" He asked, noting your anxious features that was crawling it's way up your face.

"No, uh, can- can you tell...?" You say, pressing the accelerator a little harder, making the car go faster.

"Well, we've been either going 20 or quadruple that. You've not really decided on a constant speed to drive at." He said, pointing a finger at the speedometer. "Also, I've been the one controlling the stick shift since you keep putting it in the wrong one."

"...Ah."

"I think you don't even know how to drive, but I don't really mind." He says, leaning his arm out the window as he blew out another cloud of smoke out of the vehicle. "You got the air bags, so you'll be fine even if we crash."

"...Maybe I'm just a really bad driver." You mutter, feeling your face grow hot even in the cold breeze that came in through the window.

"It's not a maybe." He says, turning back to you, "but it doesn't matter. I appreciate your help. I'll teach you how to drive for real after we get to the forest."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "You can drive?"

"...Eh." He makes a non-committal sound until you shot him a questioning glance, making him answer you properly. "...I don't have a valid licence, but I can drive."

"...So you're just as qualified as me?" You laughed, "or perhaps just as unqualified as me?"

"No, I've passed before. It's just that I've not driven in so long I don't know if I pass the current standards." He answers, maybe a little quickly as you chuckle at his explanation, not exactly buying his answer. "I should still be valid to drive."

"What are you, a old man?" You laughed, the car slowing down as your foot released the pedal, your mind too distracted by what he just said to properly process both things at once. "How could your licence just expire?"

"I had a licence before I was used for human experimentation and I've not had the time to try to renew it." He answers causally, taking in another breath of the smoke before breathing it back out. "I think."

You almost completely stopped the car before turning your head back over to him. "...Huh?"

He turns back to you, staring back into your eyes as your face grew pale at his words, unsure of what to say in response to him. "It's not a secret. I just don't talk about it."

"...Oh." You nodded, then took your hands off the wheel and your foot off as well. "...Is that why you can't die?"

"...Yeah." He nodded, then blew out one last cloud of smoke before he rubbed the light out on his skin again. There wasn't a moment of hesitation between his actions and words - he's too used to the pain he inflicts on himself. The slightest pink tinge on his skin from the burn is gone within less than a second.

The car let out a splutter, filling in the silence that took place in the car. Then stopped dead in it's tracks. "...Uh oh." You glanced down at the screen in front of you, trying to see what went wrong. "...I think we're out of fuel."

"...Mhm. Yeah." He agreed, glancing over to you. "It's fine, we're mostly there anyways." He says, nodding his head forward as he indicated towards your destination.

Your eyes casted over to the view in front of you - you didn't even realise until he pointed it out, but the two of you reached the forest he was guiding you to earlier.

It was dark, the bark of the trees was jet black against the faint light that shone down on the trees. You could barely see past them to see their fellow family. You've never seen them before in person - it was much larger than you had expected. The air smelt... clean.

Even so, it doesn't keep your attention for long as you looked back over to the man next to you. His pale skin contrasted strongly against the darkness outside, his red eyes shifted over to you, and you could pick up on the slight tinge of metal from the dried blood from earlier.

He didn't look human. He didn't have the warm undertones of blood running underneath people's skins. His response to pain was too lukewarm. He had no reaction to being in such grave danger. 'Zombieman' fit him.

"...Shall we go?" He offers, clicking open the car door for him to leave. "You can stay if you want."

"...No, I'll join you."

But he was still far, far more human than you were.

-----

The two of you wandered out into the woods. You flicked your flashlight on while he bravely moved forward in the dark, unafraid of any possible dangers that would be lurking in the woods.

"...Are you looking for something in particular?" You asked, your eyes flicking back over to him as you carefully shined down towards the ground to see where you were placing your heavy-duty boots.

"No." He replied back, still moving like a man on a mission. "The train conductor said that I should drop by here if I had time. I have time."

"...Do you think you'll find your source of poison?" You asked, your voice wavering towards the end, almost backpedalling last second in the hopes he didn't hear you.

He tilted his head backwards, glancing back towards you when you asked. "...I think it's from your home. I just don't know how yet."

*...How honest.

Well, I suppose that he doesn't really have anything to be afraid of anything he can't die. There's not much reason for him to lie.

"...I see." You nodded, your palms feeling slightly clammy after his answer.

...I wonder if he opened up about his past in the hopes that I'd also be more honest with him.

He continued to stride ahead, not taking any particular detours, walking in a straight line forward as he dragged his axe across the ground. It was still low to the ground.

...I hope not. Because I think it's working.

Then, you heard a branch snap off in the distance. You froze up instantly, your feet stuck on the dirt as your head swung over in the direction of the noise as you tried to find the source.

Finally, Zombieman stopped walking, standing still as he tilted his head in the same direction as the sound, the two of you almost perfect mirrors of each other.

"...We have company." He says, as he takes a step over to the sound, swinging his axe upwards to lean rest on his shoulder as he began to stroll over. You think you heard the metallic 'click' of his gun as well. "Let's give them a proper hello."

You flicked your head back and forth, from him to off in the distance of where the car was. Even if your vehicle couldn't move and was useless, you'd still rather go and hide in there over wherever the hell he was waddling off to. "C-Can we not...? If I die, I die."

He didn't acknowledge you maybe he didn't hear, only pressing on and got further and further away from even as the flashlight didn't reach that far ahead. You flipped a coin in your head to decide your choice to join him or leave. You mentally cursed yourself. Repeatedly.

...I guess I'm going too...

Even your feet protested against your brain's decision, but you ignored it and willed them to go on.

It didn't take long for him to stop in front of a bush, looking down at the source of the sound. You think that he's already taken care of the problem before you step past the shrub blocking your vision to see what he was looking at.

"...That's a crow...?" You murmured, your eyes fixed on the bird struggling to get off the ground - there was a sense of pure curiosity even at the sight of the animal in pain. "It's... small."

Zombieman barely paid attention to your words - it wasn't that he didn't find them interesting, it's just that he want to focus his efforts on something else right now.

"Mhm, it might be young." He nodded as he stepped out from behind the shrub. The bird started letting out sounds - perhaps to try to warn the man to step back, but he continues forward. "I think the wing is broken." he explains, pointing to the broken branch next to the animal with his axe. "I guess it hit the tree pretty hard and this is the result."

"Oh," you watched him crouch down to the bird, gently picking it up. It squawked louder as he picked it up to inspect it. "...So, do we help it?"

"...I don't know if we can." He replies back, picking it up with both hands, leaning the head of the axe in between his head and his shoulder as if he was taking a phone call with it. "...Have you ever taken care of a bird before?"

"...I've barely even seen a bird before, I'll be honest." You say, the works almost slipping out without you thinking much of it. He flicked his eyes over to you questioningly but didn't verbalise his thoughts. He was still intent on playing the long game.

"I guess we can take it back to the car for now." He says, his fingers clutching onto the torso of the bird firmly as he tried to support it's wing. Do you have any equipment in the car?"

"Maybe...? There's stuff in the back, we could try helping it." You say, nodding along with him as he began to walk back out the woods, you walking in front to guide him out with the only source of light between the two of you. "...Being a hero must be hard work." You mutter under your breath, your eyes flicking back to him practically cradling the animal in his arms as he steadily supported it to prevent it from hurting itself anymore. It's stopped crying at this point. "You even have to tend to the needs of even animals."

"Nothing worth doing is easy." He responses, picking up on your quiet words, his boots unshakeable even as he stepped on multiple uneven tree roots. "...Besides, this isn't my usual work. I investigate dangerous areas or suspects. My information isn't useful without someone to put it to good use. Helping others is inherently heroic. What I do isn't." He says, almost putting himself down as he spoke even if he didn't intent to. His tone was blunt and factual - he wasn't looking for reassurance.

"...Someone has to be the tester. Any important situation needs one." You say, your words sounding almost rehearsed as you spoke. Like you've heard it many times before. "...You fill a role no one else can."

He shifted his attention away from the crow, his head lifted up to look at you as you spoke. You didn't turn your head around though, only faced forward. He couldn't see what kind of expression was on your face.

-----

You opened the car door for him, letting him gently lower the bird onto the passenger seat of the car. The warm air that was somewhat there from the car heater was no longer in the vehicle, now it also reached the temperature of the cold air around you. Neither of you minded, but you still couldn't help the goosebumps crawling up your arms as a strong gust came every so often.

"Go watch it, I'll go check the back of the car." Zombieman said, resting the animal down before he swiftly walked away to open the boot of the car.

"O-Okay..." You nodded, briefly watching him move away from you two before you looked back down to the bird.

It had black ruffled feathers, and bright dark eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare deep into your inner being. It let out another echoing caw as it tried to fly again, getting up on it's feet. You quickly stepped forward, trying to discourage it's escape with your body. You hoped that you didn't actually have to touch it.

It stared up at you, then cried loudly. Clearly something of a battle cry as it then tried to fly - but was only able to hop forward.

You let out a fumbling cry of shock, your eyes seeing it fall off the car in slow motion. You had to catch it- You aren't wearing gloves- You can't touch it-

You have to catch it-

Your body moved on auto-pilot as your hands shot forward to catch it from falling to the dirt floor. Your brain knew, it fucking knew what would happen if you touched it, yet it still commanded it to move forward due to whatever fucking human nature you had left.

It's feathers grazed against the skin of your hands. Your body froze. It was warm. It was warm to touch even in the cold weather cooling the both of you down.

"Good catch," you heard distantly. You felt like you were submerged in a pool of ice water - you struggled to hear whatever was around you. Your eyes were frozen in place. Your body didn't listen to you. "Here, I found a first aid kit in the back."

You didn't process his words. You only watched the lively bird stumble on it's footing as you caught it. It blinked at you with something you'd call indignant anger. It would be right to be angry at you in a moment.

"You can put it down now," Zombieman said, clicking open the clasps on the box and pulled out some bandages. "We need to support it's wing with something strong." He carried on, unravelling the white gauze.

When he saw that you didn't listen to him, he reclarified for you. Maybe you didn't know what to get. "A straight strong stick should do. Go find one."

You still didn't move, and he finally looked up. He stared at you questioningly, not quite understanding the guilt ridden expression on your face until he looked down at your hands.

The black feathered bird was flopped over on your hands, it's eyes closed. It slumped over on it's wings and feet in a strange way. It's beak was open wide, trying to get something out that was never really there.

"...I think..." You say, your head turned over to face him, but he didn't really think you were looking at him. "I think your investigation is over."

...The crow was getting colder.

-----

"...I'm kinda like you." You started, sitting down in the car with dirt in stuck in your fingernails. You insisted on burying the crow before you explained everything. It was a request he easily granted - you had dug into the soft soil with your bare hands and covered the corpse with the same hands that killed it. "I'm... also like this because of human experimentation."

"...Go on." He said, nodding along.

"The lab, I'm sure you already know this, but they wanted to create antidotes. Something that would cure any poison. They obviously experimented on animals, but in the final stages, they wanted to test on a human subject. It was almost to fruition I think. And... My parents brought me in. I grew up in the lab." You sighed. "I wonder if they're even my real parents... What if..." You trailed off, the suspicions had clearly been weighing in your head for a long time. "...Never mind. That doesn't matter anymore. Anyways, one of the vials they gave me apparently wasn't the correct one. I started absorbing the poison in my body, almost like a storage box. No one realised at first."

"...Something happened, huh?" He said, picking up on your choice of words.

"...Yeah, they gave me some particularly strong poison or something to test out how my body would respond to the antidote they prepared. They didn't anticipate that I'd be able to absorb it alongside with the antidote." You let out something of a dry laugh. "That... was the last time I ever touched my mother. They cleared me to leave and I went up to her to say hi. She... collapsed on the ground, convulsing seconds later. After that, no one approached me without hazmat suits again. They quickly stopped working, after something else happened and they fled. My father was the last to go."

"...And that's when he gave you the instruction to stay until the level of toxins were acceptable?" He asked for confirmation. To which you nodded at him.

...Seeing everything fall into place has never felt so unsatisfying to him before.

He gave you a measured nod, his eyes never leaving the sight of your hunched over figure. "...So he sends you money to keep you somewhat alive?"

"...I don't know if he knows if I'm still alive." You shook your head. "Hell, I don't know if he's still alive himself. It's been... years. I only have the bank transactions from him as m only form as contact. I... still don't know if I killed my mother or if she's recovering somewhere."

He let out a quiet curse under his breath, leaning his arm against the window as you continued speaking.

They lived like this for years. Years.

"...I know what that place is, Zombieman." You say, your nails pressing tight against your skin, digging in. "I didn't want to admit it."

"...A prison?" He tried guessing when you didn't speak for a while, only to be met with a humourless laugh.

"Coffin. It's a coffin for me. I was born into a live burial - I'll live and die there." You say, your voice completely monotone. It was like a reporter going about the facts of the day. "The furthest place I've been from here. This... forest. And just by going once, I ruined the place. I can't just... leave. This was already a mistake."

He listened to you, watching the way you clutched yourself for some sort of support. He stayed quiet, examining your features carefully. Nothing on his corkboard prepared him for this - but perhaps his own personal experience of being on the other side could help.

He slowly forms the thoughts in his head - there wasn't much he could remember when he first left the lab he had escaped from, but he tried his best to gather what he could. What would have comforted him best? Well, probably the death of Dr Genus.

It was just a tad too slow - you had began speaking again.

"...When are you going to end me?"

He turned his head over to you, too quickly. "What?"

"You found the source of the poison." You say, leaning over to him from your seat. His breath hitched as you got closer. "You've known for a while, haven't you? So when are you going to do it? In my sleep? With a gun? Or an axe?"

It probably doesn't help, but at the mention of his weapons his eyes find their way over to their positions. "...I'm not going to murder you." He says, but didn't get up. He let you look down at him from where you were - it was probably the little bit of power you still had over him in your eyes. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I made that crow die." You state, your retort coming back far too fast. "You saw me. One touch from me killed it. It was barely even a few seconds."

"...That doesn't warrant the death penalty." He sighs. "Nothing you've done deserves punishment of any kind, it's not your fault. None of it."

You stared at him with an unreadable expression on your face, he struggled to place what you were feeling at the moment despite it being the most vital time for him to be able to. "...I have a question," you say, almost reluctant to interrupt him. "If there was something that could only cause harm, why keep it?"

He doesn't given himself much time to think of his answer, knowing that the longer he took the more insincere he would sound to you. "I know many people who's only speciality is violence." He starts out, leaning a little closer to you as you took a step back from him, giving him more space. "...We call them heroes. Or monsters, depending on their intentions."

"...Are you one of these people?" You ask, your words feeling heavier than he expected for such a short question.

"I'd say so." He responded, his voice flat as he continued speaking. "...But a lot of people suspect me as a monster too. "

"...You're more than that." You said, tilting your head at him with scornful befuddlement. You looked upset, but not at him.

"Aren't you the same?" He mirrored the simple question to you.

There's silence from you, until he hears a small sniffle and you bring up one hand to wipe at your eyes. He's frozen solid for a second until he reaches over to a box of tissues nearby and offered it to you.

"No..." You shook your head. "No thanks, my tears will just melt it... Tried it, trust me..."

"...Yeah, that's what tissues tend to do in liquid long enough." He cracked the dry joke, trying to lighten your mood and still offering the box to you, just slightly further away.

"...No, they're..." You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a shaky sigh as you forced yourself to bite back the tears. "My tears are corrosive. Highly corrosive."

"...Huh." He said, putting the box aside and stood up. "Would you like my coat instead?"

"...Why on Earth would I want that?" You say, the last of the tears running down your face as you stopped wiping it with your hands.

"...It's work clothes, I can get these replaced for basically free. It's cheaper than those tissues." He shrugged, trying to make another attempt to cheer you up seeing that you had stopped at this point. They were more stressed tears than anything, so your crying wouldn't have lasted long anyways.

You blinked at him before letting out a laugh, "no, no... It's okay... I don't want to accidentally hurt you. I'm fine now anyways."

"Mhm." He nodded, watching you sit back down on your seat. "...You know, I have a really, really smart colleague. He might be able to help you leave if you want."

"...Really?"

"He's the smartest person I know. And I've been kicking around for a while." He states a chuckle on his lips as he spoke. The only other person he could think of being close to Child Emperor was Dr Genus. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd let him anywhere near you.

"...Do you think he'd be willing to help?" You ask, the lilt of your voice going up a little higher, a sense of hopefulness leaking into your tone. "Or wait, would he be safe? I don't want to hurt him by accident..."

He nodded at your concerns as you spoke. "I've seen him analyse venomous monsters during the heat of battle and create antibodies on the fly. I think there's a strong chance."

"...Wow, he sounds really smart. Is he a hero like you?"

"Yes," he nodded, something you'd describe as pride adorned his features. "He's more of a hero than me, though. I could learn a lot from him."

"...I think you're far more of one than you think you are."

He's silent, staring back into your eyes. It takes the both of you a moment before either speaks. His voice breaks the silence gently, his words slow and purposeful as he spoke.

"...I think we should get going soon. We need to catch that train."

#zombieman #zombieman x reader #one punch man #opm x reader #OtterlyFoolishWritings #someone who can't die + someone that kills everyone they touch = love story #or at least a potentially funny dynamic imo #tbh i feel like I could write a (short) multi-chapter fic off this idea but I Probably Won't because I have issues with Time Management #other running thoughts are that I wanted to write more about MC's past #I feel like they could be very fun to write and then delve into with ZM as he gets to work sniffing shit out #But I wanted to keep the “”vibe“” of mystery even if you knew all the plot twists from the summary before hand #x reader

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