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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

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The Tragic and Magic about You. Modern day bounty hunter Din Djarin x F!reader #Writer Wednesday 05/12/21

Summary: You’ve been running away, and trying to start a new, but suddenly you’re captured in a car with a mysterious bounty hunter that has to deliver you to your old boss. But the road can be a dangerous place and the journey will change both your fates forever.

Words: 4,6

Warning: swearing, guns and murder. “there’s only one sleeping bag” trope. Fluff at the end.

A/N: Hi! Another week another thank you to all the amazing writers that participate and everybody that read, comment, like, reblog etc. And of course to @autumnleaves1991-blog for creating this and bring a platform to smaller blogs like myself. Sorry for any bad grammar, misspelling etc and excuse my zero imagination to create fictional names for characters. This is vaguely inspired by Hozier “From Eden” song and specifically the video.

The Tragic and Magic about you

“So you don’t talk much huh?” you say, it’s been a few hours since he’s taken you and he hasn’t said a word. His dark brown eyes fixed on the road and he doesn’t even react when you talk.

“Can I turn on the radio?” before he answers you’re already touching the buttons. A few notes escape from the stereo and in a second it’s gone, he has reached the device and has turn it off. “Not a big fan of music, gotcha” you reply with a huff. Bored, you observe his profile, his hair is disheveled, a chocolate brown as his eyes; he has a striking beauty you think: strong jaw line, aquiline nose and a stern expression. Gosh, you always on the look for bad men and you laugh at yourself for being as simple as to being attracted to the bounty hunter that has finally catch you.

“So you’re kinda nostalgic? Cool car” you brush your hand over the beige leather inside the silver blue Cadillac. “And expensive, you must be really good at this bounty hunt thing, well, you got me and I’ve been running for a few months. I really thought I was safe to be honest, it’s been a long time since somebody got close so I became a little bit too comfortable, I must admit. God! I’m going to miss my apartment” you pout” I had plans for the weekend, and even bought all the ingredients to make a cake. I was almost there! Shit! Now my flat is going to stink with all that food expiring and probably my landlord is going to steal all my stuff, fucking prick, I hate him so much” The bounty hunter reaches for the radio and turns it on. You smirk watching as he has adjusted his posture and his index taps rapidly on the steering wheel.

“Oh I love this song!” you turn it up to the maximum and start singing clearly not knowing the lyrics you just mutter the final syllables of each word, watching him intently as his eyelid trembles and he’s breathing deeply now, his knuckles white holding the wheel so hard that you think he’s about to break it “Isn’t it beautiful this country? look at this, we really don’t appreciate it much, look at the red and oranges of these mountains, the vastness, the sand and how you cannot reach the horizon with your eyes. You must love this, just riding solo with your cool car just doing whatever you want. Real freedom”

For the first time since he arrested you, he turns to you giving you a warning look and you bite your lip, he’s intimidating, a big man and you know if he’s in the business he’s capable of anything, but here you are pressing all his buttons until, if it works, he’s going to snap.

“What’s your name?” He sighs deeply and keeps on driving ignoring you once more “I mean you know many things about me, it’s only fair”

“Mm, let me guess” you tap your finger over your chin “Tom?” no, too posh for you. Jack? you could be a Jack but no. Oh! oh!” you move nervously on your seat and slap on his arm with both your hand handcuffed together “I’m going to call you Clint. You know why?” you wait a few seconds “Clint Eastwood, my friend, a man of a few words. You know who he is, right? Dirty Harry? All those westerns? They’re really not my thing, but he’s a legend, you surely must know him”

The few following hours you asked him about many things and you don’t know anybody this strong, if you were in his place you would be already dead or inside the trunk.

The sun is getting down and the desert starts to be submerged in a violet light and there’s nothing around. You wonder if he’s really going on until he has to give you up without stopping. You’re hungry and thirsty (after too much talking) and you really could use a bathroom.

“So Clint, we ain’t stopping just for bit? I really need to pee, and it would be great if you take this off for a bit” you shake your handcuffs close to his face, and finally you have achieved his limit. He stops the car abruptly and opens his door without saying a word. You follow him with your eyes and when he comes to your door you think of begging mercy knowing that you don’t deserve it, poor guy must have had it.

You turn on your seat and face him. Clint bends down a little and grabs you by your hip taking you out of the car by a swift movement.

“Careful!” you scream

“Shut up” he doesn’t raise his voice. It’s the second time he has said something. The first time being when he stopped you on the middle of the road and after confirming your identity, he had caught you and handcuffed you but he hadn’t said a thing, until now. His voice is deep and low and you wish to hear more but he opens the door to the back seat and throws you on it. He reaches for his jeans and you actually freeze thinking he’s reaching for his gun but he takes out a black bandana and comes close to you. His large broad body occupies all your space, his leather jacket making his shoulders look stronger than you had thought at first glance.

He’s surprisingly gentle, his big hands circling your head while he adjusts the fabric over your mouth “Really it’s not necessary” you say before he reaches your mouth with two fingers and pushes the black bandana between your lips. He ties it a little bit tighter. Your head is on his chest over his white shirt and you scold yourself when you feel you have closed your eyes smelling him: leather, fresh soap and something else that it’s entirely his, once the knot is done on your nape he looks at you and raises one eyebrow “Too tight?”

“i-f not nefecessary f-really” you say and he stays too close to your face for a bit, probably thinking if he should just shove the thing inside your throat and shut you forever. You feel your cheeks burning because you’ve been looking straight into his eyes, they’re surprisingly gentle, there’s warmth in them that you haven’t seen in anybody in this kind of business.

“Just be good and stay quiet for the rest of the journey. We will arrive soon” Clint then proceeds to grab you by your legs and puts you in a more comfortable position on the seat and takes the precaution of fastening your seatbelt. He is extremely careful on his movements and he barely brushes his hands on your hip while doing it, but his neck is so close, shining in a thin layer of perspiration and you are lost again thinking things any sensible person would never have in mind while you’re been taken against your will to answer for messing with the wrong people.

You moan in disappointment when he gets away and closes the door. Then you are left there alone, his scent lingering over your body and you think about how your life had come to this but then...

You feel the air hitting your right side first and the projectile breaking the sound close to your ear second, then the million small pieces of the glass. Some other gunshots hit the trunk and you’re already screaming and trying to get down but the handcuffs and your trembling hands don’t find the way to unlock the seatbelt.

Clint is pressed against the car, you see the top of his head and he’s firing back to whomever is attacking you. You throw your body on the back seat and in the second your back hits the leather, two gun shots blast both windows and many sparkling bits of glass hits your face.

“Release me!” you shout “I can f-helpf” your chin is covered in your saliva but who fucking cares when you’re about to die. Clint raises and you see through the door how he’s attacking back with two guns, his face contorted and sweaty and then you hear the sound of tires screeching the road and your captor lowers his guns.

“Are you okay?” he says through the broken glass on the door

He opens it and what was left of the glass windows crashes to the ground. Clint looks at it for a second; his cool vintage car is destroyed. He climbs over you and takes out the wet fabric out of your mouth

“Are you okay?” he asks again, with the gentlest touch of his fingers he shakes off of your face the small crystals

“Yeah” you whisper. It’s sad that this is the kindest anybody has been to you in a long time.

He reaches for your hands and turns them softly seeing that a red line has formed on your wrists. Clint then lowers the collar of his shirt to reveal a long silver chain with what looks like a skull with horns and one small key to the side, he takes it out and you hear the small clic sound once you’re free.

“Come on we have to go”

When you get out of the car, you curse seeing that they have completely destroyed the tires and the smell of gas and the dark puddle on the road assures you that the car is useless. But there’s nothing around and zero traffic. The vast desert is now covered in the blue shadow of the night and the temperature is beginning to sink.

“So what’s the plan?” Clint has taken a big duffle bag on his shoulder and pushes you from your lower back to the side of the road

“We will spend the night here, if we stay in the open they could find us easily” he says walking towards the darkness where only the shadow of the sharp bushes and cacti cover the space.

“Who are they?” you ask and try to fix your feet on the ground but he still pushes you towards the emptiness of the desert

“Probably competing bounty hunters, you have a big price on your head, you know?” he responds

“But spending the night in the desert, we will be dead by the morning” you protest. The few lights on the road are getting farther and farther away as you both walk towards some indeterminate point. He walks slowly by your side, actually not paying much attention to you, his hand now lies lazily on his side and so you decide in a rush to run away towards the only thing you deem safe, the road. You hear him sigh before he starts running behind you

“Stop, please” he shouts but you go on. You feel your legs as if they were made of iron, heavy and stiff. You gasp the air in your lungs exiting all at once, once he catches you and raise you over his shoulder. You become a little dizzy with your head upside down grabbing the belt on his jeans for your dear life

“Let me down!” he ignores you and keeps on walking, his hand are strong lock on your thighs and the other in your calf so you cannot kick him “I said let me down!”

“Are you going to run again?” he stops

“No” you sigh

“Great” and he bends down so your feet can touch the ground.

He gave you a bottle of warm water and some energetic cereal bar while he prepares a small camp. He knows his ways in all this, searching for a specific place in the wilderness where you two could be safe. Two tall red rocks shield you from the night and he is now cleaning the ground so he can lay down the sleeping bag.

“I guess you did well in the Boys Scouts” you comment, he’s been silent again

“I’ve never been one” you open your eyes widely; it’s the first time he has answered one of your stupid comments.

“It comes with the Master Degree in Bounty Hunt, huh Clint?” you laugh

“My name is not Clint”

“Alright, so what’s your name?” you cross your arm over your legs waiting for an answer but he doesn’t give you one. He sits opposite you with his eyes on the road far away

“You know we could talk a little, we have a bond now with this near death experience”

“Rest in the sleeping bag, I’m going to stand guard” he cuts you

“I’m not that tired” even in the dark you see his eyes glaring at you, and you obey. The bag is on his right side and you get inside it feeling the hard ground on your back. Your muscles protest feeling all the tension going away and even if you try not to your eyes begin to close begging for a few hours of sleep.

You curl and make a ball out of your body, when you open your eyes is a dark pitch nothingness in front of you and you tremble for a second until the stars and the moon cast enough light to see a few meters away. It’s so cold now, your jeans and basic cotton shirt are not enough and even the fabric of the sleeping bag couldn’t protect you from this. So you turn and watch your captor’s shape huddled down pressed against the stone.

“Aren’t you cold?” you teeth chatter and he doesn’t answer and the worst possible scenario begins to form on your head “Clint tell me you’re not dead for fuck sake! what would I do in this shithole?”

“I’m not” he simply says, you see that he has zip up his leather jacket, his hands protected inside his armpits

“Come here, we need to stay warm” you get your arm out and blindly trying to reach for his body

“I’m okay”

“Come on, I’m freezing, do you really want to bring me in dead?”

“They actually didn’t care, I could bring in you in cold or I could bring in you in warm”

“Well, be kind and bring me warm” you guess he’s thinking about it or actually it’s going to be brave and spend the night like that, but you hear him moving towards you and lie down against you with a huff.

“Don’t be shy, Clint” you say pressing your body against him. He tenses for a second but then agrees to put his arm around you and his warm breath brushes the hair on your neck

“My name is not Clint” he mutters

“Then why don’t you tell me your name and we will be over it, Clint?”

“I don’t tell anybody, especially those who I catch and deliver”

“I bet you’d never lied down spooning with anyone you caught in the middle of the desert, Clint, but here we are” you whisper

“You never shut up, right?”

“I bet your tongue must be tired for all this talking, Clint” he exhales deeply and moves a little. His big body is surprisingly warm and you think that maybe he could have survived the night out in the open, but you’re thankful that he did join you. You relax your body feeling how tense it was once the temperature lowered “I guess it must be a very horrible name and that’s why you don’t want to tell anybody. But I don’t judge, I mean if anything it’s your parents fault and I will never judge a parent, I’m a very shitty mum myself”

“You are a mum?” his voice sound surprised

“Yeah...I was young when I had him” you feel a warm tear rolling on your otherwise froze cheek

“Wh-where is he?” he tentatively asks

“Far away, with a family I thought would take good care of him, but they’re assholes” you cough before actually starting to cry

“You cannot get him back?”

“I was trying to, that’s why I took the money from my old boss. To start a life with him far away from all this shit and the things I did in the past” you feel how he turns abruptly and raises his upper body to look over at you

“You’re not making that up to get yourself out of this, right?” his words are harsh and the moonlight hit his serious face “I take very seriously anything that has to be with children, it’s part of my creed”

“I’m not lying” you mutter he doesn’t move for a bit but then you see him fluster when he’s aware that you’re very close and he’s on top of you.

Then you’re both in silence you press your eyelids shut trying to regain sleep or maybe to control the urge to cry.

He was actually right. The gas station was not far away, he looks at you from the payphone while you devour a doughnut he has paid and a cup of coffee.

“One of my associates is going to pick us up in a bit” he leaves the duffle bag over one of the gas pump and searches something until he has taken a black plastic clamp “I’m sorry I have to” he takes your hands and brushes his thumb over the marks, you hiss and he looks at you with warm eyes “it would be loose, but don’t do anything stupid” when he ties it, it barely touches your skin “Is it okay?”

“Yes, thanks”

While in the car, with the other man driving, Clint doesn’t say a word and he’s back to the brooding and mysterious bounty hunter. You want to ask him a million questions, know his name, what his creed is or what the collar he hides is and you know that time’s up. You will be delivered to Mr. Horzag and then...you actually don’t know what he’s going to do to you. You have been avoiding those thoughts but now it’s time to face your fate.

His club looks completely different in the daylight. The liquor and the suspicious stains on the velvet couches are visible and the dark paint is chipped, all the frames and lamps dusty, you think that you’ve been lucky the time you’ve worked for him not catching anything bad from touching this sticky place.

“So you are as efficient as they told me” he says with that slow and deep voice of his

Clint nods and softly grabs your forearm bringing you towards the table where the old man smokes.

“Oh, my sweet runaway, it’s a pleasure to have you back” he smiles and you shiver

“Unfortunately I can’t say the same”

“Where’s the money?” he changes his fake smile to a violent expression

“I don’t have it” you shrug

“That’s inconvenient you know that, don’t you?”

“I told you I needed the money, I deserved it for many long hours in this shithole and doing jobs you never actually paid for. I told you I needed it as soon as possible and you ignore me. I just took what I was owed” you replied

“Oh! Yes! To finally play the mummy you actually never wanted to be. How sweet!” he laughs. The two men by his side laugh with him but it sounds faked. Everybody dances at the sound of Mr. Herzog music in this hell; you must always do what he does. “And if you needed the money to get your baby back, where is he? Oh! Maybe you got lost on your way as always, right? And actually expended it on yourself, poor baby is better off without you. Who would want a hoe like you as a mum?”

Again the sound and the air hit you first before you could even process what’s going on. Clint has his two guns out and he has hit Mr. Herzog just in the middle of his forehead, the faster man of the two lies dead with a similar shot and the other, being slower falls down to the ground with his gun on his hand that he hasn’t had the chance to use.

“What?” you shout

“We have to go, is there any other way out? The men at the entry will arrive soon” he says and grabs your arm to rush you when you are still gasping looking at the scene

“Over there” you point to the bathrooms

There was a small door, with a warning claiming that behind it there was just the electric panel but it was actually a door out to run away in case of police raids. You grab Clint‘shand and run through the dark corridor knowing your way in the dark

“We will arrive few streets away” you announce

You try to catch your breath once you get out but he doesn’t give you that time to rest and grabs you and keeps on running gathering insults and screams while you bump into people. He doesn’t stop until you’re on a parking lot on some supermarket; he walks casually until he stops beside the door of a car.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting us a transport. Go to the other door” he covers himself with his body, and you hear the clic when the doors unlock.

A few miles after, you have already caught your breath but still your body is shaking

“Why did you do it?” you mumble. Clint looks at the road, his face is dirty and his jacket dusty, he looks at you before he answers, his eyes glow and you can see tears forming at the corner of his eyes. “A child should be with their parents. They should be loved and taking care of” he says and nods “Where’s your son?”

The neighborhood is dead silent; you drive slowly watching the white fences, white painted houses.

“That’s the one” you say

“Let’s go” he stops the car in the middle of the road and you follow Clint not knowing exactly what is he planning to do.

“We should wait until the morning and ask for him”

“They tried to blackmail you into paying them for getting your son back, what do you think they’re going to do?” he mutters and you sigh knowing it’s true. They didn’t even let you see him after hours of driving if you didn’t gave them something.

He works his magic hands again as he did with the car and opens the door without a sound. He turns his head to both sides until he finds the small panel of the alarm. “Go to his room, I will work the alarm. Don’t make a sound”

You climb the stairs and they creak a little but you’re swift and enter the small room where you know he will be on his crib. You have to cover your mouth to prevent you from crying.

He has a white shirt too big for him and he is cuddling the soft frog plushie you bought him last time you visited him.

“Sh, sh, I’m here, ranita” (little frog) you take him with the small white blanket he has over him, and press his small body to your chest. He protest a little and holds tight his soft toy but doesn’t make another sound or wakes up. So with all the care in the world you climb down and Clint is at the door and waves his hand to rush you.

“Probably the alarm will go off in a few minutes. C’mon”

You could sleep, your body and mind begs you for it, but you can’t take your eyes off of your precious baby. His small lips parted in a relaxed slumber, in a way he knows his at home, his with you and that makes your heart beat faster and bring tears to your eyes. “Thank you” you say, he drives slowly, the light from the cars illuminates his smiling face “It’s a beautiful baby”

“Greg, that’s his name, told you I will not judge if you have a horrible name. I should have thought about other but I wanted to please my boyfriend at the time, just for him to run away...fucker”

“It’s Din” he says

“Din?” you say back and repeat it a few times loving the way it sounds on your lips “It’s beautiful”

“Thank you”

All the waitresses stop to smile and say a few sweet words to your son and you feel proud, in this horrible and ungrateful life you made something so pure and beautiful, he smiles at them once he’s awake and one of them even makes the effort of pressing some fruits to make something for him to eat. Din has his arms crossed over the table eating his breakfast but keeps his eyes on you. You see him observing you and the baby from the corner of your eye and when you get him he blushes and keeps on eating.

“Say hi to Din, ranita. He saved us” you grab his chubby hand and waves it to Din that smiles back at him. Greg opens his toothless mouth at him and laughs “Oh you like him! Enough to lend him your froggy, huh?” you ask the baby and he smiles while eating another spoon of his purée “Take the frog and look inside” you motion to the soft toy that is over the table. Greg actually pouts when he takes it but doesn’t cry.

The toy has a small white Velcro slot where normally there would be a small battery to make sounds but inside there’s a plastic bag with a thick bundle of bills.

“Your payment. I guess it’s only fair. I went to those fuckers’s house to get my baby but they asked for more money. So I looked for a job, a proper one, to pay the rest and well, the rest of what I’ve stolen couldn’t be in a bank and what’s a better place for hiding than a place in plain sight, huh?

“I cannot accept it” he says pressing the Velcro “You have to provide for your baby” he shakes his head and puts the frog back to its place much to Greg content.

“And what would you do? You cannot possible be back to bounty hunting”

“I can move to other place, start somewhere new. Nobody really knows me” he shrugs

“We do, I do” you whisper and then there’s silence between you two, and it feels the cafeteria is silent, there’s nobody around except for you and the invisible string that ties you together, a string full of dreams and longing for a home, for love and acceptance, to truly belong somewhere. “If you starting a new, and I too...I...well”

“That’s no life for a baby...” his voice shakes and he’s back to fix his eyes on his plate

“A baby deserves to be love and taking care of, you said it. And Din, you’re the first person that has cared for us”

“I guess I could protect you until you’re both safe and settle” he says softly like he’s trying to convince himself “For a bit...”

You smile and nod tears gathering on your eyes. It’s the happiest you’ve been since forever “For a bit” you agree.

(As you saw I have zero imagination for names and called baby Grogu, Baby Greg and Mr Harzog is the name of the actor for The Client in The Mandalorian 🤦)

#writer wednesday #The Mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x you #Din Djarin x f¡reader #din djarin x reader #The Mandalorian au #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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Title: Robbing a Dead Woman

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale:

Prompt: "Why are you robbing a dead woman?" "Why did you die rich enough to rob?"

The first thing Beca Mitchell realized, was that the ground was still frozen. Even though it was well into May and a subtle sweat was dripping its way down her back, it seemed as if the soil in St. Joseph cemetery didn’t’ get the memo- and if it did, it had been swiftly ignored.

She had almost fallen over, sticking the tip of the iron shovel just below the grass before balancing on its wings and nearly toppling into the marker that was just to the right of the one she had positioned herself on top of- and really, Beca Mitchell wasn’t built to rob graves. She wasn’t built to do anything except for curl up and sleep.

It was well past three am and her exhaustion was still clinging to her just like the scent of freshly turned dirt filled the air. And this was stupid, truly, it was. Because the last thing she ever wanted to do was dig up the grave of some old bat because her gold-plated watch had a gold-plated map on the bottom that would lead to even more gold.

Someone else had probably, probably dug this up before. But the coordinates that she stumbled upon on the campus library had an unbroken seal. So, she thought that maybe it was possible that the famous Beale treasure was still here, still hidden, and still buried under feet of half-frozen mud.

Beca got the first layer of mottled dirt and grey grass away from the opening before she decided to catch her breath. Her shoulders ached and she was sure that a splinter was wedged into the palm of her hand at this point. Her exhale clouded in front of her.

Gravediggers had some gull, she decided, to do this for a living. But she was also sure when no one was watching they brought out a machine that did this for them. It was horrible work- horrible needless work. She was a history major, a stupid history major that just got into cryptography because of an undergrad, and fell into a deep dark hole of lies and codes and deceit.

The Beale family really was at the center of it all. Their names were on several of the buildings on campus and there was an ominous oil painting of Mr. Thomas Beale in the science wing. He wore a lavish blue coat that must have been a fortune in those days and scowled down at the students hunched over different mixtures.

She had already committed some… crimes, or vandalism when she snuck into the dark hallways and took a pocketknife to the back of the dusty canvas. She didn’t’ press hard enough to break into the layer that faced the world, but she hoped vainly that whoever dusted around it next didn’t hold it up to the sun because there would be a very precise square missing from the middle.

The map in the book had led her to the painting and the painting had lead her to Chloe Elizabeth Beale’s grave, which she was now more than halfway through. She could smell the wet overturned soil and her own sweat, and the blood from the blisters on her palms.

A golden light swept across the campus cemetery and Beca didn’t’ waste any time dropping into the hole in the ground that she had just upturned. She held her breath as if the person wasn’t just a passing stranger in their car or some students leaning into one another with the smokey stone park as a backdrop.

She was on her back, trying to ignore the prospect of worms squirming under her clothes. She watched the light and fought the urge to drift off because the dirt was shockingly comfy and warm after a while. The lull of the nearby engine was enough to seduce anyone.

“Why are you robbing a dead woman?” A voice whispered.

Beca shot her eyes open and a scream threatened to form in her throat before passing her lips. But before she could a hand clamped over her mouth, strong and cold and also tasting of soil. She breathed in thickly and darted her eyes towards her left.

For all intents and purposes, Beca Mitchell figured that she was alone in the graveyard. She had been alone while digging and alone while researching where to dig. More importantly, she had been completely and utterly alone while she ducked and flattened herself on top of the soil.

But a woman was next to her, so close that she should be able to feel body heat and she should be able to notice something other than her stunning, ghostly, looks. Her red ringlets of hair and the way little specks of black sludge against rosy, white skin. There were freckles, soft and subtle ones that would be void for not the fleeting headlights still shining through the markers.

“You shouldn't do that, I don’t know who’s in that car but they won’t take kindly of you robbing a dead woman. Why are you doing that, by the way? Robbing a dead woman?”

The girl frowned as if she realized Beca couldn’t answer with a hand over her mouth and pulled back, her breath was just as cold as her skin, even as it pushed against Beca’s collar bone and made her hair raise.

The historian made an uneducated leap. “Why did you die rich enough to rob?”

She had never seen valid photos of Thomas Beale’s wife, but it was only rational, or irrational, to figure that this was her. She hadn’t even hit wood yet and ghosts… ghosts weren’t technically real, not that she could prove or disprove.

But this woman, beautiful and dark and light all at once, didn’t disprove her theory. In fact, she smiled as if it were more than just assumption. Her white teeth were glistening under the moonlight as it mingled with the rest of the world.

“Oh, you know you’re not the first person to attempt this?” She said, turning from her side so her dark blue eyes faced the sky and the stars within it. Beca was torn between watching her and watching the constellations but figured they were the same thing- really. “The whole grave robbing thing is a bit barbaric though. Started in the nineteenth century when medical students stole bodies to perform dissections.”

“History buff, are we?” Beca asked, trying to gauge the engine of the car turning over again.

“Thomas didn’t think women should be able to learn but I spent most of my time reading regardless. He was quite barbaric too.” She scoffed “Liked to make people fight for their next move. Did he hide treasure, then? No one has ever gotten this far before.”

“Other’s have tried?”

“Plenty. You got the painting, though. Smart. I like smart.”

Beca grimaced and tore her eyes away from the sky. She found that Chloe Elizabeth Beale stared at her now too. They didn’t’ say anything, not for a few moments. She didn’t look dead or dying, she looked preserved, she looked captivating.

“What killed you, then?” Beca asked despite herself, curious “If I’m to rob a dead woman I might as well know what made her that way.”

Chloe had a bit of a smile to her voice; it was a soft sideways grin and it made Beca warm in a cold grave. “Consumption. They said it was consumption anyway, with it’s blood and mass destruction. But it never lined up for me and by the time I had enough sense to refuse the whiskey’s that Thomas poured it was too late. Arsenic really has no taste. Did you know that?”

“Can’t say I did,”

“Thomas was always one for his riddles. He thought it would be poetic to hide the next clue within a cage, buried under dirt and a gold wedding ring that was much too weighty to carry. Once some poor fool got all the way to my finger and figured that was the treasure.”

It was Beca’s turn to smile. “Oh? So if I ever get a chance to clear the dirt, there’s going to be something more?”

“mm,” She hummed, breath not showing as Beca’s did in the slowly dimming night “Maybe. Let me know if you ever get the chance. I’d love to know if there’s any truth to the myth. The legend… something worth dying for.”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic rec #ghost au #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

Text

Feral Fatality

(Part 3)

Last update for now! I hit a wall and so...I need to shift direction, make way for my requests (up til now I merely wrote one word) so gonna forget this one for the time being and push this deep under every article I have in the works—

Anyways, some fluff before I disappear *insert peace out and fade meme*

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing extreme, a little blood only.

—

The masked killer gave you one shook of his head before he took off.

Saving you... for last?

Why weren't you afraid? Hell, you are going insane.

You looked down at the corpse under you. Time to clean up the mess, no one would want a rotting bitch on their doorstep.

Standing up, you decided to drag the body into the woods, maybe an animal would be happy to eat her flesh.

Huh, you were taking everything so well.

After you left her body a good distance away from your cabin, you went back to wash up, the red liquid on your skin was beginning to itch. You took off your clothing, the blood on your them was hopefully still removable, you wouldn't want to throw them away if you can help it.

Your thoughts strayed to that of earlier. You killed someone. You killed Betty.

And it felt good. Euphoric, even.

You never thought you could end someone's life, one of many that wanted you dead too.

"It was self-defense..." you assured. They intended to kill you anyway, the food they served for you was possibly poisoned. Even a fool would notice how suspicious they acted.

Not to mention Eloiza declared it straight to my face.

Then again, she would still die with the murderer out for her blood, it's just that I ended her myself.

Everyone's probably dead by now.

You stared at your hands– your palms, swollen from gripping your murder weapon.

"...Jason Voorhees. I wonder if he'll kill me too..."

You trailed off as your head drooped, your previous high fading out as your limbs felt heavy. Wobbling your way to your bed, gravity did its thing and you fell on the soft sheets and blacked out, the distant ringing of screams but a mere lullaby to you.

—

The ever-rising sun warmed your slumbering form as its rays peeked through the gaps of the window, stirring you into consciousness.

You groaned, rolling away from the prickles of their heat, wanting to get more sleep from last night's events...

Last night?

You shot up, rubbing your grogginess away as the thoughts of the past evening came rushing in. You couldn't believe it. Or did you? Did you really do it?

Was it all a dream??

You brought your hand to your right cheek, the action so sudden that you smacked yourself, instantly regretting it when you felt like you've just planted your face on nails.

"God fucking—" You clenched your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut, muffling your scream. Little tears threatened to pour out so you looked up to keep them in. When the pain numbed down, you exhaled and panted hoarsely.

Well, damn me if it was a dream, that fucking hurt!

A gurgling noise.

Right, I didn't eat anything for dinner.

You sighed, time to take care of your business before anything else! You could eat a whole stallion with the way your stomach grumbled. You stood up and plodded to the cupboards where you kept your food. Unfortunately, you didn't have a horse at hand, and you doubt you could even kill such a beautiful animal, so some easy-to-open corned beef would have to do. Maybe two-three cans would sate your hunger.

Knock, knock.

"Yeah, yeah, wait a bit, I'm opening dinner... breakfast. Dinkfast or breakner? Mm." You responded nonchalantly, still lethargic from both the pain and exhaustion. You pulled on the ring of the can. And it resisted like a lil shit. Three more tries and it didn't budge. You slammed it down the table, huffing.

Easy-open my ass!

Knock, knock.

Yeah, right, the door. You moved to grab the knob and whipped it open. Your face met with a broad chest, a bluish, dark gray shirt stained with what looked like dried blood and dirt. Slowly trailing up, you froze as you met two blue orbs staring down at you from behind a hockey mask. Your jaw dropped.

The silence dragged on for who knows how long before you broke away and fumbled. Absolutely lost, you did what a totally sane person would do.

You stepped aside and invited him in.

"I, uh, come in then, Mr...Voorhees." You uttered, your eyes unblinking as you looked anywhere than at the killer who took careful steps into the cabin.

——

Jason trudged to the cabin you resided few hours after he finished cleaning up the mess. Ten meters away and muffled words followed by a silent scream reached his ears. Five large strides and he was at your doorstep, coming to a halt and contemplating on barging in and scaring you even more, or knocking.

Knocking seems to be the calmer option, although he was concerned if you were hurt again. He doesn't know why he's feeling such...emotions towards you, technically a trespasser but different...

A minute passed before he knocked, twice. You answered something about eating and made-up words. He knocked again after he heard you slam something down and huff. Before he knew it you opened your door and stared. You were a lot shorter up close, craning your neck up to meet him.

You looked at each other for a while, before you moved out of the way to let him in. Even going as far as calling him Mr. Voorhees, which baffled him. So you knew who he was. If so, why didn't you leave or scream at him? That and a bunch of questions ran around his head.

He needs answers.

——

You stood to his left, facing his side as you felt awkward. You were in a room with a mass murderer, a legend. What's more, you were the one who let him in. You pinched the sleeve of your navy blue jacket from behind as you rocked on your feet. Was he here to end your life? No, no wait, if he wanted that he could have done it when you were asleep. You're pretty sure he could break down the door and crush you with it and you would never wake up again. Same as just now but he...he knocked? What will you even do if he decides to carry out the task now? You were, by no means, fit to fight back. You can't even open a fucking easy-open can! He could snap you like a twig any second now.

You waited, resigning to your fate and wishing you were reincarnated as a rock in your next life.

"..."

Well, nothing happened. He just stood there, unmoving as he faced the opposite wall.

A grumble and he whipped his head to you, making you flinch. Curse your stomach for being such a whiny shit. But you couldn't resist your hunger anymore, you need to eat. Moving a step at a time around him, you took hold of the can and pulled, swearing when it didn't budge. You were gonna die at this rate, if not by the killer behind you then by fucking starvation.

You felt a finger poke your shoulder, not even a flinch as you were too frustrated to care at the moment. You turned around to face the man, he was looking at the can you were holding.

"Oh, uh, I haven't eaten anything? The damn can just won't let me have what's inside." Since when did you talk this much?

He gestured, his gloved palm exposed, as if waiting for you to give him the can.

You placed it in his hand. With one tug, ONE TUG, of his finger it opened. It looked like he just touched it and the lid gave away. You huffed in disbelief as he handed it over to you with two fingers. You grabbed a spoon from the drawer and started wolfing down the contents. If you were gonna die might as well be full.

When it was empty, you glanced at the other can on the table, untouched. You looked back and forth a couple of times between the man and at it. You guessed he understood since he silently picked up the can and opened it for you. The corned beef ended in your stomach seconds later.

You set the last can down, only to pick them all up and dumped them inside a garbage bag you set up yesterday. Grabbing your tumbler from beside the sink, you took large sips from it.

Wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your hoodie, you walked past him and went to sit on the bed. He followed you. You stared at the one who murdered everybody else, standing in the middle of the cabin.

"..."

"So...Am I supposed to die now?" you asked. You sneaked a glance at the machete in his holster.

He didn't give you any response, but he stepped closer until he was in front of you. You didn't look up.

The man raised his hand, and you shut your eyes, expecting the worst— only hoping it was painless and quick.

You almost jerked when you felt his hand on your head.

But what surprised you was how gentle it was, no pressure at all, not even close to a killing move. Then you realized...

He's...he's patting my head.

His hand...wasn't cold nor warm, but the way he did it was akin to petting a little animal; stroking the top of your head so softly you sniffled. This made him stop and step away from you, his hands waving— hovering around you it was practically comical.

"N-No, I'm alright," you answered his silent question. "It's just...I've never been patted like that before and I...It was nice."

You've been subjected to abuse and degradation most of your life that a gesture, one that meant no harm or malice, made you cry. You wiped away the wetness of your eyes before you looked at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Voorhees. I actually wouldn't mind if you kill me, but I guess you won't...?"

He gave you a soft grunt in reply, and you giggled.

The man patted your head once more, before he made his way out of the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him.

You let out a quiet breath. Jason Voorhees simply appeared on your doorstep, helped you with your food, patted your head, and walked out without a word.

It's crazy and it wasn't a dream— if the throbbing on your cheek was any indication.

You're happy though. More than happy to be alive.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason x reader #jason voorhees x fem!reader #feral fatality #athenawrites #my writing #slasher fic #slasher x reader #slasher x fem!reader #friday the 13th #horror fic #fluff #slasher writing #slasher fanfiction #jason voorhees fanfiction

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purplerose244 · 4 years

Text

Thoughts journal about Season 13!! 💪💪 (1/4)

Phew, I actually made it to the English release without spoilers! 🤩 I do know general things about little plots for the ninja, hopefully nothing major! Finally, the Cole season we've all been waiting for, with Rock Mom and possibly plenty of our Earth baby development! COLE IN THE SPOTLIGHT AT LAST!! 🖤🖤

Well, I know I'll be shooting rainbows from my eyeballs if I see even one Nexo Knights reference! For the rest I don't really know what will happen, I'm curious! 🤔

It's the 6th of July, and here we go!!

GENERAL THOUGHTS

Is it just me or the dialogues sounds better? More built up, funnier, cohesive just like in the earliest seasons of Ninjago? Maybe it's just me but I'm really appreciating 🤷‍♀️

It also doesn't feel that rushed anymore! Which was my biggest problem in Prime Empire really. The episodes seem to me like fragments of a nice movie, not a too long story forced into 11 minutes. I'm very happy with the quality so far, I feel good about this for now! 👍

No matter what season it is, you can count on The Fold to make an AMAZING intro!! Freaking awesome, it was epic and very final battle like 👌👌 I WANT THE FULL VERSION ASAP!!!

SHINTARO

I do appreciate we are not forgetting about the adventures we had until now, it feels like from season 11 forward we are building a new backstory of. But they still show stuff from the very first seasons so I'm happy anyway 😍

Pff, Cole plays Prime Empire right after being trapped in it. And Lloyd joins in! YES!! Maybe there is hope for a season without greenie being traumatized! 👍👍

Also he's doing laundry because I DON'T WANNA DO THE DISHES NO MORE~ 😎

The chicken is back 😂 The constant reference to the movie we are all kinda attached to a this point (well I am, LOOK AT THE LITTLE HAT 💕💕)

Is it me being a "I've rewatched this show way too much" type of fan to feel that Nya saying that Jay using Spinjitzu for chores will get Wu mad might be a reference to how the guys had cleaned the very first Destiny Bounty with that? You think that Wu found out and got crazy mad? That would be kinda cool 😂😂

Okay, poor sensei and all, but he's kinda right 😅 I like Wu, I really do, but Aspheera was a problem kinda because of him, they all going to another dangerous realm could have been dealt a lot better if he hadn't been so on edge and in Prime Empire he freaking got kidnapped by NORMAL PEOPLE. Maybe he is getting old 🤷‍♀️

At last, he has returned...

THE ONE AND ONLY RULER OF NINJAGO, THE POSTMAN!!! 💜💜💜 Was he missing since March of the Oni? I can't remember if he was around for the Aspheera part 🤔

Soooo, not to be that person, but a secret group of royals asking the ninja to meet them in a place that was never open for outsiders before then? Kinda... feels familiar... *SoG flashbacks* 😰

Okay, not the biggest fan of Misako, but her scolding Wu was kinda fun 🤣 Needed to change the animation for her to get a bit of personality apparently 😉

Ah, you left Pixal behind to let her do... chores. Well, if you guys are happy 😒

Ninja babies all excited ❤💚💙🖤🤍💦 Also I'm excited because there is FINALLY a white heart between the emoji! I didn't notice it until now, I just need a gray/maroon heart now 😍

Jay screaming NOT MADE UP cracked me up so much 😂😂 Gosh I love my bluebell

A bit of action scene, nice, nice, also Cole going full buddy mode to save Jay gives me my beautiful Bruise vibes 💙🖤💙🖤

Well hello Brian

Looking good 💕💕 The designs are rocking in season 12 and 13, I cannot tell it enough! Super super cool

Overall nice episode, seemed more nicely focused than usual, I don't know if it's just me. I'm happy anyway 😁

Ooohhhh, so the sails were ripped off by the bats, and they were flying thanks to the soldier guys with wings. It makes sense, I was confused by the trailer, now there's the answer!

IN THE DARK

Okay, Vania introduction, I wonder what kind of princess we will get after last ti-

Vania: I'm such a big fan of you, I was the one that insisted at having you here! 🤩

... besides the fact that she sounds and looks absolutely ADORABLE, I'm kinda with Lloyd about feeling suspicious... because that's exactly how Harumi introduced herself back then 😅 And away it goes, the possibility of Lloyd spending a season without feeling disturbed or traumatized...

Ah, there we go, Cole and Vania. Soft looks, instant attention and... that's it? Idk, Jay and Nya's meeting had that one very awkward color question (💙❤💙❤), Kai literally heard romantic music while looking at Sky (❤🧡❤🧡), Lloyd was being mocked all the way by the guys as he looked at Harumi (💚😰💚😰). This one seems a bit weak? I don't mind it actually, I'm actually a bit curious about how it will develop since it started like this 🤷‍♀️

References to Hiroshi's Labyrinth and the Tournament of Elements, my fangirl heart is happy 😍 Is it too much thinking that the maze was a reference to Shadow of Ronin, since they all went there in the game while in the show only Lloyd was at the Labyrinth? Idk 🤷‍♀️

JAY SAYING COLE IS HIS BEST FRIEND, YES!! YES!! FINALLY, HAVEN'T HEARD IT SINCE SKYBOUND!!! BROTP IS BACK 🖤💙🖤💙 Also Jay confused that Vania is interested in Cole, pff, you clearly don't know the fandom 😂

But it is a bit fishy, does she knows stuff? Now I'm into it...

Lloyd sneaking in, that was creepy 🤣 And ninja like, of course

I kinda like how this is going, Cole straight up saying dude, I just met her, calm down. Like, I do understand green bean and I'm kinda on his side, but still 🤷‍♀️

Cole: I'm not just gonna jump on the lovesick wagon like you weirdos, geez

"It felt like a cloud of warm contentment." I'm gonna use this whenever someone asks me why have I been in my bed all day 😎

I know they all believed Cole was just dreaming the purple guy, but honestly they could have just said "Cole, we had flaming snakes raining on Ninjago a few weeks ago, what are you so worked up about?". But yeah, ROCK MOM FINALLY!!! I wanna know more!! 😍😍😍

Mr Sparkles 😂😂 So cute

Vania is cool for now, she is basically the innocent Harumi without a scarring tragedy from her past changing her into a vengeful villain... yeah 😅

Did Cole notice that she talks a lot and loud, kinda like Jay? Is that why he seemed a bit annoyed? 😂😂

For now they don't seem that annoyingly into each other, they look chill, no major lovesick moment or anything. I like it, I don't know if this ship will be super important or something, but at least I'm happy they are dealing with it in a different way 👍

With all these creatures chained up and a crazy dude making them work, Cole must have one HECK of a flashback from back in Chen's island 😵

Okay, I get the drama, I get the lair which is

Legit cool, with that nice Underworld vibe, but really? A wood door with ropes behind a lava fall? Security measures who? 😂😂

So Skull dude is the bad guy, and has a mask. People with masks means big reveal at some point. I like dudes with masks 😗

Aaaahhh, figures it was too easy being in a literal mine with the power of Earth. They really can't keep their powers for more than five seconds now can they 😂😂

But this seems interesting, is it connected with the burst thing they said in the trailer? Or even Cole's mom? Is this Skull Sorcerer connected to her? I HAVE QUESTIONS PEOPLE!!!

I am legit enjoying this 👌 They are building up questions and I do hope we'll get a good flashback moment with Rock mom... or even finding out if something else happened to her... EXCITED 🤩🤩

So to be the main ninja of a season lately you have to be either without powers (Kai Fire Chapter) or trapped in an unknown place (Zane Ice Chapter and Jay Prime Empire). Cole got them both 😅

IT REALLY IS ROCKY'S SEASON FINALLY 😎😎

WORST RESCUE EVER

Mm, the king is being weird, what's up with this mountain thing? Does he know who the Skull Sorcerer is? QUESTIONS

So Vania keeps being extremely adorable, I think I really like her character 💕 We'll see what will happen with her, how she will interact with the others, especially Lloyd since he seems very suspicious... can't really blame him 😅

Kai ready to argue with a king because one of his friend is in danger, THAT'S MY FLAME BABE ❤❤❤

Okay, the conflict between the two tribes, I read about this in some plots of the season. Not sure how that will play, but

I did laughed at this 😂 Sorry Mole

Okay, seriously, have we not learned anything from letting Kai come up with a plan? The notoriously bad planner Kai? The think before talking Kai? The let's follow the sun because yes Kai? I love him to dead but really, it was meant to go bad right away even if the title wasn't that 😅😅😅

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GOT EMOTIONAL AT COLE'S NINJA-GO WHILE DOING SPINJITZU?? 😭😭 They don't say it that much anymore before spinning, it kinda hit my tornado shaped heart 🖤🖤

I expected at least a comment about them being similar to the Skulkin, too bad. Not fundamental though, I'm really enjoying this so far 👍

Well, all of the ninja are trapped now 😅 Is Wu going to come for the rescue? Is Vania? I know they will be separated and will all go on separated quests, and I'm kinda more looking forward to it now. Let's see what happens!! 🤩

THE TWO BLADES

Considering how big of a fan Vania seems to be of the ninja, I bet she had those figures way before this moment 😂

Wooooo, hearing someone addressing Cole as the leader, does this count as a major throwback to pilots and season 1? I would make it count 😍

Okay here Vania does seem into Cole, we'll see how that plays out 🤷‍♀️

Ooooooooohhhhhh, vengestone! This actually make more sense than the last two times they were left without powers 😅 We never actually saw where that material came from, and here there's an actual mine full of it! Very cool, I like this! Big question is, what does Skull dude need all this vengestone for? 🤔🤔

Okay, the legends fits, sounds good enough but... she? SHE?!? WAS THAT ROCK MOM??? She was clearly a ninja and she did spinjitzu!! I didn't even considered the possibility, I only saw Misako, Doubloon and Aspheera knowing Spinjitzu before!! An actual mom?? THAT WOULD BE EPIC!! 🖤

Pff, these tribes are a bunch of idiots, I actually like them 😂 I like them better than the rats of Prime Empire that's for sure, but maybe that's just me 🤔

Aww, this Mino creature is cure! Cole did pretty good with him, does he remind him of Rocky? ☹

Nice, this I was waiting for! Cole and Lloyd together, leaders collaboration 💚🖤💚🖤 It didn't last much, but I think there will be more of it? I HOPE SO!!!

So the blades must be somewhere hidden, if they really have been taken by the Skull Sorcerer. I mean, even in Prime Empire they thought for sure Unagami was Dyer, so I wouldn't jump on it right away 🤔

There we go, the divided team! I knew about Kai and Zane stuck together, I remember stuff not too promising about Nya having to fight for Jay, but I'm honestly really enjoying the season so far! I like the pace and it doesn't seem as rushed as before! I hope we get to some good plot twists and backstories soon!! 🤩🤩

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heroineimages · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @theoutcastrogue. (Her post)

Rules: It’s time to love yourself. Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Thanks so much, sweet rogue, for tagging me! Firstly, this is exactly the kind of thing my therapist tells me I need to do for myself more often. Secondly, I tend to fixate on reading back over my past writing, so this gives me an excuse to do just that. Under the cut because there’ll be several writing excerpts and it might run long. Tagging @chenria, @9musesandanoldmind, @queer-trans-amazon, @jeanjauthor, and anyone else who wants in!

1. I did a lot of tinkering on Hero Forge after they released the colors and new engine. Firstly, I found it therapeutic and helpful for my anxiety. Secondly, I have a tendency to create stories for the new OCs I come up with. In particular, I like coming up with themed versions of the twelve base D&D classes. My favorite so far is the Desert Elf minis and their story.

2. My second favorite Hero Forge buildup was the Muskets and Snow designs, pitting Frost Elf tribes against musket-armed, multiracial commonwealth soldiers, once again based around the D&D classes. (Check my Hero Forge tag for more mini designs!)

3. I added four chapters to my Legend of Korra gladiator AU last year, and commissioned a movie poster for it from my amazing artist friend, Telenia Albuquerque. I added a few fighting scenes and several explicit lesbian bedroom scenes that I’m kind of proud of, including a fun, racy striptease. In the following scene, Asami breaks up a meeting between Varrick and none other than Marc Antony after Varrick attempts to abduct her and poison her bodyguards, including Korra:

“You said our host tried to abduct you?” [Antony] continued, turning to Asami.

“Of course not!” Varrick interrupted, stepping between Asami and Antony. “We’re pals, right, Antony? You know I’d never abduct anybody!”

“Mm, I seem to recall you abducting Titus Atticus’s wife, as well as the late Clodius Pulcher’s favorite catamite,” Antony replied.

“Allegedly!” Varrick protested, turning away and crossing his arms. “I allegedly abducted Atticus’s wife and Pulcher’s catamite!”

“Everything you do is ‘allegedly,’” Asami glared.

“So you’ve had dealings with this bastard before,” Antony laughed. “Please, come in,” he invited, gesturing to Varrick’s office. “No doubt we can handle this like civilized people, miss…?”

“Asami Sato,” Asami answered, allowing Antony to take and kiss her hand.

“Ah! Master Hiroshi’s daughter,” he identified her. “I’ve heard about you, and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m sure,” Asami agreed with a hint of smooth annoyance.

“Great, thanks a lot, Zhu Li,” Varrick grumbled as the six of them trooped into his office. “What the heck happened, anyway?”

“It would seem you underestimated Mistress Sato, sir,” Zhu Li informed him, [still tossed over the gladiatrix’s shoulder]. The armored pauldron pressed into her gut was really uncomfortable. “She already had her guards inoculated against our poison.”

“What? How could you possibly know that?” Varrick demanded, turning to Asami.

“I’m more intelligent than you thought, and you’re less clever than you’d like to believe,” Asami answered, taking one of the three chairs in the room. “And, frankly, that old Persian trick of poisoning the dancing girls’ lips isn’t as cunning as you thought. It was all a matter of knowing what poisons you have access to and researching which ones work on contact and can have resistances built up for them.”

“Smart,” Antony agreed, taking the second chair while Acainissa stuffed Varrick in the chair behind his desk. Hebasken and Acainissa took up positions on either side of Varrick’s chair, looming over him.

“Varrick, this other door leads to your bedchambers, doesn’t it?” Asami asked, pointing to the curtained doorway.

“Yeah, why?” Varrick frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Korra, are you up for a bit of… revenge-sex?” Asami asked.

“I’m always up for revenge and sex,” Korra assured her.

“Take Zhu Li into Varrick’s chambers and fuck her stupid, please.” Asami instructed. “She’s a very intelligent woman, so I suspect that will take a lot of fucking to accomplish.”

Korra laughed and turned to pack Zhu Li through the door.

4. I’ve also made some progress on an older story I started a long time ago about my OC Elindra, a Drow paladin of the Red Knight who gets turned to a Drider by fanatics of Lolth. The following scene comes during the big escape from Ched Nasad between her and her dwarf cleric friend, Nell:

I used the glaive to parry the [Drider] warrior’s first assault. The snarly bastard was skilled, blocking and parrying my every attack, despite my Haste spell. And even if I did land a hit, my odds of breaking his Stoneskin were frustratingly small. I gave way instead, using my quickened speed to my advantage. An arrow flashed past us, announcing the return of the annoying ranger from earlier. I grimaced from frustration as another arrow shattered against my Mithral spaulder.

This was taking too damned long. No doubt the alarm had been raised and more guards and spell-casters were on their way.

Dueling with the warrior, I deliberately backed myself toward another aperture in the webs. I parried the warrior’s mace, managing to rap him across the face with the butt of my glaive. As he lunged again, I dropped my glaive and caught his arm. From there I leapt backward, pulling him though the gap with me. He caught the edge of the webs with two clawed legs, flipping us through upside-down. Still clutching his arm, my weight yanked him through the gap behind me.

A slightly larger Drider, I flipped myself onto his back, riding him downward as we plummeted. Gripping him by the hair, I screamed, “Smite Evil!” as we hit, slamming his head into the hardened webbing below.

The impact threw me from the warrior’s back, and I skidded onto my side perhaps twelve feet away. The warrior’s head was obliterated—a black, bloody smear across the calcified web floor.

“You alright?” I asked Nell as I picked myself up.

“Ye’re focking crazy, ye know that, Elindra?” Nell grumbled behind me, [still harnessed to my back]. “Ooh, that’s a pretty mess!” she laughed when I turned to look for a way back up. “Aye, let’s see ye Stoneskin protect ye from that shite, motherfocker!” she taunted the dead Drider.

5. And, lastly I’m happy with a lot of the progress I’ve made on my novel, First Empress. The following excerpt is a cute, racy little flashback scene of Elissa and Queen Viarra’s first time having sex:

“O–oh, gods!” Elissa groaned, catching her breath as she came down from her third climax.

Princess Viarra gripped the blanket on either side of Elissa’s shoulders, grunting as she thrust against Elissa’s leg to ride out her own climax. Broad, muscular arms trembling, her thrusts continued to get slower and more deliberate as she finished herself off. Her highness’s entire body shook one last time, and she gave a panting laugh before collapsing halfway atop Elissa.

They lay laughing and gasping for breath for long moments, their legs tangled together, their right breasts squashed against the other’s sternum. Princess Viarra’s arms splayed off to the sides while Elissa’s trembling arms clutched her love’s shoulders. Their shoulders were about even, but Viarra’s cunny now rested against Elissa’s knee. Their clothes lay discarded to one side with the wine they’d stolen from King Vaso and the erotic poetry they’d stolen from Prince Kallis. Above them, the peach trees of King Vaso’s orchard swayed in the afternoon breeze.

“I’m not squishing you, am I?” Viarra asked, her face still half-pressed against the tangle of brown and copper hair next to Elissa’s right ear.

“No,” Elissa laughed, wishing she had the energy to clutch her beloved princess tighter. “I feel safe beneath you,” she promised. “You make me feel safe and happy.”

“And you make me happy,” her highness assured her, turning her head to kiss and nibble at Elissa’s cheek. Elissa squealed and used one hand to try to push her away.

Unrelenting, Princess Viarra made a nasal, growling sound and pretended to gnaw on Elissa’s neck. “Grar! I just want to eat you up, you’re so sweet!” her highness declared, making exaggerated chewing noises against Elissa’s neck and shoulder.

Gods, her highness had gotten so strong the last few years, Elissa acknowledged as she squealed and giggled, unsuccessfully attempting to fight back. Viarra’s arms were probably bigger around than Elissa’s legs, and her shoulders were almost half-again as broad as Elissa’s. And she was tall. Possibly as tall as her mother as well as thick and big-boned, Princess Viarra was just too big and strong for anyone except maybe a wrestler or a gladiator to overpower.

Clearly Elissa would have to resort to guile instead.

Viarra shrieked out a series of giggles as Elissa reached up to tickle her sides. “Gods, no!” her highness squealed, attempting to push Elissa’s hands away. Unable to quite grab onto them, Viarra pushed herself away, laughing as she rolled onto her back.

Instead of renewing her assault, Elissa rolled over next to her, draping her left arm across Viarra’s chest and left leg across her waist.

“That was amazing,” Elissa admitted, snuggling up against her beloved’s nude form. “Thank you for being my first.”

“Thank you for being my first,” Princess Viarra countered, wrapping an arm around Elissa’s bare back. “I never imagined sex would feel like that.”

“You seemed to know what you were doing,” Elissa observed. “I mean, I could tell you were trying out techniques and all, but where did you learn them?”

“I asked Captain Vola,” her highness admitted looking over at her. “She’s pretty candid about sex advice, and even Captain Kellor admits it’s usually good advice. Part of the reason I brought you out here was because I wanted to try it, and there’s no one I’d rather try it with than you,” she added, reaching over to stroke Elissa’s cheek.

Elissa blushed and smiled, stroking her love’s powerful belly. “I’m glad you did,” she admitted, unable to think of anything else to say.

#theoutcastrogue #we-are-rogue #discussion

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undeadgoathead · 3 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo - Part 3

Intro: This is part 3 of my attempt to do Bad Things Happen Bingo. I'm using these prompts to inspire scenes for my original Urban Fantasy/Supernatural Horror series, The Land of Entrapment. In addition to a few human characters, I also write about fae, demons, angels, witches, and grim reapers. You know, the normal classic archetypes. I suppose I should include a content warning for kidnapping and choking, since this scene is a bit more brutal than the last few chapters I wrote for this challenge. Props again to @badthingshappenbingo for making this possible.

Fandom: Land of Entrapment Series (Original work)

Characters: Toothgrinder, Devilsclaw, Tribulus (mentioned), Lilith (mentioned), Aodhan (mentioned). {All OC's.}

Prompt: Strangling

Summary: Devilsclaw discovers the mythical legend who wears the Grim Reaper's Cloak, an illusive human who calls himself Toothgrinder. Devilsclaw strangles him to keep him from crying out for help.

Several days had passed. Toothgrinder was walking home from the library after a short half-shift. It was noon on a Sunday, so most of the shops were closed in the small town. Toothgrinder was alone. At least, he hoped he was. He felt like someone was watching him. Maybe even following him. He glanced at the reflection in a nearby store window. Sure enough, it was the rocker dude with the golden earrings. The guy who had ambushed him in his own home. What did he call himself? Devilsclaw?

Toothgrinder picked up his pace and walked faster. Devilsclaw sped up as well. Toothgrinder started running. But the other guy caught up to him. He grabbed Toothgrinder and put him in a headlock, pulling him into a dark alleyway.

Toothgrinder fought back, but Devilsclaw was taller and stronger. Toothgrinder strained to breathe with the hand covering his mouth and nose. He reached for The Obsidian Butterfly, but was horrified to find his pocket was empty.

"I remembered that you kept a knife at your right hip, from the last time we met. I already took it and disarmed you. Don't worry. I'll give it back when we're able to trust each other." Devilsclaw whispered in Toothgrinder’s ear as he pocketed the blade.

Toothgrinder grunted, trying to break free. But Devilsclaw kept smothering Toothgrinder's face with his left hand, while his right moved to grip his throat. Toothgrinder had to use all his strength, trying to pry away from Devilsclaw. But he was already subdued.

"If you try to scream or run away, I'll choke you out." Devilsclaw threatened. "Do you understand?"

Toothgrinder already felt his face burning as the bloodflow was constricted. He nodded yes and mumbled. "Mm-hmm." He strained to nod, but it was hard to move with his mouth and neck restricted. He tapped out on Devilsclaw’s forearm,

"Very well. I’ll take my hand off your mouth, as long as you keep quiet. I just want to talk.” True to his word, Devilsclaw released him.

"What do you want from me?" Toothgrinder coughed, massaging his sore face and neck. But before he could even catch his breath, Devilsclaw had pinned him against a brick wall.

"Just answer my questions. Are you really the Toothgrinder?”

"You already know that I am, stalker."

"Did you see the note I left on the nightstand?"

"Yeah, I remember that prison-poetry gibberish."

"No, it was a warning. I know you don't like me, and I don't blame you -"

"You've been watching and following me for... I don't know how long. Weeks? Months? You broke into my house, ambushed me, and now you're attacking me again!" Toothgrinder bristled.

"Shh. Remember what I said about strangling you if you get too loud?"

“Fuck you, creep."

"As I was saying, I understand why you don't trust me. But if you think I'm bad, pray that you never meet my cruel father. Before he banished me from my own kingdom, he tore my soulmate away, and imprisoned me in my own fortress. He's locked me in my chamber, thrown me in the dungeon, and even bound me with demonic chains." He revealed the chain link scars burned into his forearms. "If that's what Tribulus would do to me, his eldest son and only heir, then know he will have no mercy for a human mortal like yourself. Even if you are the fabled Toothgrinder."

Toothgrinder rubbed the scars on his own arms. "I've been tied up with demonic chains too. Shit sucks. Hurts like hell. And don't even get me started on the Scrolls of Silence."

"I see that you have already seen realms beyond the human world. You have faced off against Demons in Hell. Did you really run in with the Devil?"

"Saw him from afar, didn't meet him in person. Don't really want to." Toothgrinder shuddered.

"Is it true that you are acquainted with The Reaper?"

"The Grim Reaper is my Master, and I am his apprentice."

"Aye, you are a formidable human indeed. What about the rumors that a Faerie Witch fell in love with you?"

"Oh, Lilith? I'm never sure where I stand with her."

"Agreed. She is indeed a difficult one to read."

"Besides, I'm seeing someone else now."

"Ah yes, that Aodhan lad. The one who rescued you when I had nabbed you a few days ago.”

"Stay away from him!”

"I am a nature spirit, the very soul of the Moonflower growing outside your window. I can't help but overhear the humans who share my territory. You humans are all very noisy and boisterous, after all. You and I are from different realms. Of course spirits and humans are bound to have some misunderstandings."

"Culture shock. Got it."

#bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo #bad things will happen #bad things are happening #original writing #original work #original character #original series #fiction #my fic #whump fic #captivity whump #whumpee #whump prompt #whump tropes #whumpblr #sorry for the abrupt ending but it was the best I could do

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girls-scenarios · 4 years

Note

Halloween prompt, Dreamcatcher pls. (List 1) 19. "We aren't going home until everyone here has flirted with at least one person." (List 2) 27. "Mmm, I appreciated the little murmuring you did in my ear." "... That wasn't me." (List 2) 77. "The legend said it only goes after virgins... so sucks for you I guess."

Dreamcatcher / Halloween Prompts

19. “We aren’t going home until everyone here has flirted with at least one person.” + 27. “Mmm, I appreciated the little murmuring you did in my ear.” “… That wasn’t me.” + 77. “The legend said it only goes after virgins… so sucks for you I guess.”

Admin Kiwi

A/N: So these prompts were… Very difficult to come up with something for. However, I did my best. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

“Is everyone ready?” It was six o’clock even with Jiu clapped her hands and looked around the living room of the Delta Zeta house, attracting everyone’s attention. “We have a party to be at in thirty minutes, girls!” She was dressed in a long black dress that swished as she turned, with fake pearls around her neck and her hair done up high in a fancy bun. Apparently, she was supposed to be Audrey Hepburn.

“You don’t even look scary,” Sua complained as she exited her room, making the rest of the girls jump.

Putting a hand to her heart, Yoohyeon huffed. “You look too scary! What kind of costume is that?”

“I’m Pennywise from It! It’s Halloween, come on you guys, we’re supposed to look scary. A puppy and a deer? Really? And are you Princess Jasmine, Gahyeon?”

“Yes,” said the youngest, raising her chin. “And I won’t apologize for it. I’m matching with Dahyun this year.”

“How cute. Am I seriously the only one who dressed up as a scary character?”

“I mean, I’m technically a ghost?” Siyeon said, looking down at her costume. Sua huffed.

“That’s hardly scary.”

“I’m a priest,” Dami said, raising her hand, and the room fell quiet for a moment before Sua shook her head.

“You know what.... I could say something but I’m not going to comment on that. Whatever, let’s just go.”

“Finally. Come on or we’ll be late.” Jiu pulled her keys from her dress and headed for the door, but Sua let out a loud yell, making her stop in her tracks and look back at her incredulously. “What the-?”

“I thought of an idea!” Sua grinned as the rest of the girls looked at her, a mixture of confused and interested. “How about we make some sort of deal?”

“Like what?”

“Like... we won’t leave until every one of us has flirted with at least one person.”

Handong narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I see the appeal.”

“Come on. It’s Halloween. Let’s have some fun! Get freaky and wild!”

Jiu sighed. “So all we have to do is flirt with one person?”

“Yes!” Sua frowned. “But that’s a little boring.”

“It was your idea!”

“Oh, I remember now!” Sua pulled her phone from her pants and scrolled through for a moment before shoving her phone screen forward with a grin. The girls blinked at her.

“What is that?” Dami asked quietly, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s a game! Apparently, it’s supposed to call out a succubus.”

“And what would be the point of that?” Gahyeon asked, creeping forward to look at the phone.

“The game has to do with flirting. Everyone has to flirt with someone or they’ll end up the target! I heard it only goes after virgins, though, so sucks for you.” Sua grinned as Gahyeon gave her a dirty look.

“That sounds terrible,” Jiu said, gesturing towards the door. “Come on, we have to go.”

“Fine,” Sua said with a pout. “But I really wanted to play....” After looking up to see that the rest of the girls were heading out the door, she quickly whispered the words to start the game. When she glanced up again, Gahyeon was looking back at her, her eyes wide. “What?” Sua said, skipping up to join everyone else. “It’s fake. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The house party was already in full swing by the time the girls got there, and everyone disappeared their separate ways, leaving Sua alone. She huffed in annoyance and walked further inside, already thinking of what she’d say to them as she grabbed a drink and looked around. Some people she knew, others she didn’t, and as she downed the alcohol, she looked for her flirting target. Someone cute, preferably, although it would be hard when she looked like this.

“Whoa, a Pennywise.”

A female voice sounded behind her, and Sua turned around to see Yeeun, a friend of a friend, standing behind her, dressed as a devil with her horns slightly askew atop her head. She smiled. She’d found her target.

“Well hello there, devil. Sorry, am I blocking your way?”

“No, I was interested in your costume.” Yeeun grinned, leaning in closer. “You look really scary from far away, you know. Up close, though, it’s not too bad.”

“That’s good to know, I guess. Do I still look cute?” Sua struck an exaggerated cute pose with her hands under her chin, making the other girl laugh.

“Sure, I guess. You’re Sua, right? We met at Seungyeon’s birthday party.”

“That’s me! And you’re Yeeun. I would never forget such a beautiful face,” at her words, Yeeun giggled, covering her mouth slightly, and Sua grinned. She was cute. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“Same to you.” Yeeun’s cheeks were flushed red, matching her outfit as she played with her hair. As Sua turned to grab another drink from the table, the lights dimmed, and there was a little murmur in her ear. She couldn’t quite make out what it said, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mm, I appreciate that murmuring you just did in my ear,” she said as he rubbed at the back of her neck. Yeeun blinked at her, then shook her head.

“I didn’t do that.”

“Wait, what?” Another shiver went down her spine as her eyes widened. Who had it been, then? She glanced behind her, only to jump back when she heard a thump in front of her. Yeeun was now slumped on the ground, the flush gone from her cheeks. Sua’s blood ran cold and she crept backwards, dropping the drink in her hand.

A scream ripped through the air just as she turned to run. Suddenly, the house was in chaos. People were running and yelling, tripping over the people that lay littered on the floor as they tried to make their way through the dark house. Sua’s heart pounded as she raced from room to room, trying to find her friends. This was her fault, she had to get everyone out of there, they needed to leave and figure out how to stop this.

She threw open the door to a bedroom just as the lights flickered on and let out a surprised gurgle, stumbling back. Jiu and Seungyeon were slumped against the wall, their bodies leaning on each other and Jiu’s eyes staring into nothingness. Sua stood frozen for a moment, then moved to rush forward, wanting to check Jiu’s pulse. Only she couldn’t move. The lights cut out again and some unseen force shoved her back into the hallway and slammed the door. Her head hit the wall hard and she let out a cry of pain as her head spun.

“Sua? Is that you?” It was Siyeon’s voice, and she sounded scared. “Are you okay?”

“I just hit my head,” she said, sitting up with a hiss of pain. “B-but Jiu is-.” She was cut off by a scream and a thump. She froze in place, staring into the darkness as someone gasped and groaned, her heart pounding. Then, in a short flicker of light, she saw Siyeon and Handong laying on the floor. With a cry, she launched herself from the floor and ran over to her friends. They were cold to the touch, but their skin stung her fingers, making her jump back in surprise. “What’s going on,” she whimpered as she stood and stumbled down the hallway, trying to find the stairs. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but if she could just find a way out maybe she could get help.

Another murmur came from behind her and she began to run, all the hair on her body standing up. Without light, she couldn’t see the stairs in front of her. Her foot caught air, sending her tumbling down the stairs head-first. The hits to her head left her dazed, and it took her a moment to realize that the the floor wasn’t... hard. Groaning, she pushed herself up, only for the lights to flicker. Her stomach turned and she screamed, throwing herself back and pushing herself away. She’d just landed on Dami. Letting out another scream, she tried to stand up, but the throbbing in her head wouldn’t let her. She tried again, crying out in pain, only for a hand to slap over her mouth.

She struggled and turned back, then went limp in relief when she saw that it was Gahyeon behind her. Pulling her hand away from her mouth, Sua let out a sob.

“I’m so glad it’s you. Listen, we need to get out of here or-.”

Gahyeon put her hand back on Sua’s mouth, and Sua’s furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She tried to pull her hand away, but it wouldn’t budge. Slowly, confusion turned to terror as Gahyeon began to smile, her eyes glowing red. Sua could no longer find it in her to struggle. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move under Gahyeon’s heavy gaze.

“I guess I should thank you, Sua. You released me from my spell.” Gahyeon laughed as Sua’s eyes widened. “I guess I should explain a bit. I was found out by a witch and put under a curse binding me to my human form. Until you muttered those words today, I was powerless. But now? I’m back to being myself. Oh, how I’ve missed the taste of human lives. Human sex.” She licked her lips, and her tongue was forked. Sua looked up to see large, red wings towering from Gahyeon’s back. “I knew finding myself a sorority would work. College humans are always so desperate for sex and attention.” She dropped Sua to the ground, letting her gasp for air as she slumped to the ground.

“W-why,” she gasped, staring up at the girl-no, demon-towering over her. “Y-you killed.... Those were our friends!”

“I didn’t kill them,” Gahyeon said, shaking her head. “No, I drained some of their sexuality and life force, but they’ll wake up in a few days. I don’t gain anything from killing humans.” With a smile, Gahyeon flexed her finger and Sua’s body moved on its own, standing her to her feet. “But you? The one who called me a virgin only to set me free? I have something special in store for you.”

Sua whimpered as her body moved her closer to Gahyeon. She felt like she was burning up, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest as her body reacted out of her control. She was shaking as Gahyeon tilted her head up with a finger, smirking.

“Earlier you said you wanted to see scary,” Gahyeon whispered, leaning in closer. “I’ll show you a terror that you’ve never seen before. Are you ready?” She pressed their lips together, and Sua wanted to scream. She wanted to say that she wasn’t ready. She wanted to plead and beg for her life. She wanted to apologize. But she couldn’t. All she could do was squeeze out a single tear as her world faded to black and her body turned against her.

#dreamcatcher #halloween prompts #prompt writing #dreamcatcher drabbles #jiu #sua #siyeon #handong #yoohyeon #dami #gahyeon #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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leonawriter · 4 years

Text

To Watch The Parade

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, others mentioned.

Summary: Chuuya always feels a pull, a flutter of something between fear and longing as the parade goes past each year, and this year is no different. Neither is Dazai's presence.

But there are changes, this year.

Notes: Mostly canon youkai au. SKK implied.

...

Chuuya stands a distance away from the parade, dressed not in his sharp suit but a kimono that had last been worn for a summer festival, along with the mask he'd worn at New Year's. He leans forward a slight bit, hesitates, and shifts his feet.

It would be easy to go and join them. They all seem to be having fun, after all, and it wasn't as though there weren't people who looked like him - not exactly, but still, close enough that he wouldn't feel out of place - in among the people who didn't, and it was tempting. So tempting.

He could take a few steps, slip in, and pretend that he'd always been there.

Tell himself that he would stay for only a while.

It would be so easy-

Which was why he couldn't, and he stayed where he was, watching them all march past with no idea where they were going.

"You could join them, you know," a voice says from behind him. He doesn't even bother turning around. "None of them would force you out of the life you've built for yourself. They'd understand. A lot of them lead perfectly normal human lives most of the time too, just like you do."

He continues to watch, and he isn't sure why his heart beats faster - if it's fear, or if it's excitement.

It certainly is something, being caught between fear and longing.

"I can't," is all he says.

"Mm," his companion hums. "That's what you've said every other year I've found you here, ever since I realised what you did when the time for the Night Parade came around. I shared my secrets with you, and I even have said that I could ensure you had a better kimono to wear to the event. That one is fine for normal festivals, but for..."

"I said I can't, Dazai."

He's stopped pretending that he doesn't know who's joined him, as if there was any pretending of such a sort when it was Dazai, and he tears his eyes away from the parade to see Dazai staring down at him, inscrutable in his dark blue kimono.

Unlike Chuuya, he's not bothered with a mask.

Also unlike Chuuya, Dazai sports two soft white ears pointing up toward the moon, and a number of white tails show through from under that kimono he's wearing.

Chuuya had freaked the hell out the first time he'd seen Dazai like this. They'd been sixteen, and Chuuya had been watching just like he had been earlier, and an almost-familiar figure had just raced out of the parade, seeming to flicker and shrink as he'd run, as if he'd been bigger or taller than he already was when with the demons, and closer to what Chuuya recognised when he grew further away from them.

He'd thought Dazai was human, after all. Why shouldn't he? Ignoring the name of Dazai's ability, everything about him said that he was human, right from the way he was skeptical of gods and spirits, to the way he threw his temper around like the brat he was when Mori told him to do something he didn't want to do. And then there he was, right in front of him with fox ears and not just one, but nine fox tails, and Chuuya had wound up having a screaming match with him in the middle of the street.

He'd also not been able to get over that for several weeks. Dazai had suffered the full wrath of Chuuya's silence, and harder hits when they were training together, and Chuuya had let more and more things get through his defences, just shy of anything that'd catch Mori's attention as actually going too far.

He can't remember anymore what had made it so they'd talked to each other again. Maybe nothing did, and he just plain forgot why he'd been so mad, aside from the next year, when they were seventeen, he wasn't so shocked or angry seeing Dazai in the parade, or when Dazai snuck out of it to try and trick Chuuya into joining, saying that it was a prank afterwards.

The worst had been the four years between eighteen and twenty-two, when he hadn't dared watch, because he wasn't sure if Dazai would turn up, and he wasn't sure how he'd react, if he saw the traitor with the demons, wasn't sure if he'd march in there against everything he knew just to punch Dazai's lights out, or if the other demons would take offence at such a thing, or if... worst of all, maybe, if he'd just turn around and go home, because clearly Dazai was better off not being human at all, and not even trying to make an effort at it.

But now here they were again.

"...You know," Dazai starts again, sounding far less sure of himself this time, enough that Chuuya's caught off guard, "I'm thinking of inviting Atsushi-kun next year. I didn't think I should, this year, when everything is still so new for him, and he's still settling in... he might have easily forgotten where home was, because you're right. It is easy to forget. But I think that it would do him a world of good, once he's ready."

Chuuya snorts.

In the distance, the wild music keeps playing. The sound of a hundred and more voices raised in jubilation and music and chaos.

"You never bothered asking me if I was ready."

He's more than a little bitter, about that. He can still remember how he'd been scared shitless the first time Dazai had tried dragging him in, after he'd heard all of the stories of people just going missing, and how just the other day Dazai had joked about making Chuuya disappear.

"Maybe I should have," Dazai admits, not looking at him, attention drawn back to the parade, though a single ear has cocked toward Chuuya, a piece of body language he almost wishes would stick around full time, because it's nice knowing he's got Dazai's attention and doesn't have to work for it, when he wants to have it. "But I was... I didn't even think of it. At the time, all I cared about was drawing you further in. I hadn't... been able to share this side of myself for... so many years."

Chuuya feels a shiver run through him, at the reminder, subtle though it had been, that Dazai wasn't actually the few months younger than him that the records said he was; or at least, perhaps Dazai Osamu was twenty-two years old and had been born roughly two months after him.

The kitsune standing next to him, though - who knew. Dazai had never told him exactly how old he was, always treating the question like some woman for whom age was some touchy subject. The first he'd even known was what he'd looked up online, which had suggested Dazai could have just been born as a white fox, but the number of them heavily suggested he'd lived at least centuries, if not... more.

He didn't act like it, at least. Which tended to be a relief. Dazai acted most of the time like he was as old as he said he was, no more and no less. He barely - if ever - even spoke about the idea of being older than that. He'd treated Chuuya coldly the first time he'd brought the idea of age up, in regards to legends, and Chuuya had been pissed off enough because of the double standard - Dazai knew things about him that he'd never told anyone else, but the moment he tried looking up shit that was public knowledge about kitsune, the moment he tried to ask, Dazai acted like he'd started reading his private diary with all his darkest secrets in.

"You're asking me again now, though," he says at long last with a resigned, more than a little frustrated sigh.

Dazai tells him he should have been more patient, and yet there he is again, being the same as ever-

"I'm asking. That's all I'm doing. And offering. Because the offer is always open, just like it has been since I found you here when we were sixteen." Dazai's nails click against something, and he doesn't have to look to know that they're claws, and to be honest, it does sort of suit him. On days like these, he looks on the outside like Chuuya thinks he is on the inside. Sharp, dangerous, but also kind of fluffy and soft. He wonders what it says about Dazai that he's always been fluffy and soft as well as sharp and dangerous. "You know... if you accepted, I would go with you. I just wanted you to know that. I always would have gone with you, Chuuya. Even if it would have seemed like I'd left you, I still wouldn't have... tonight, too. I don't think you have anything to fear from the Night Parade, but... even so. I wouldn't let you be spirited away by anyone else."

His heart caught in his mouth at the confessions, the changes, the... everything, that was so different from the Dazai he had once known.

He forces himself to calm, to breathe, even though he sees one of the demons wave over to Dazai - to them - to come over, to join the fun.

"I... don't think... I don't know if I'm ready. If I'll ever be ready. That's why I just watch, Dazai. I appreciate it, I do - I really do. But I..."

"You're scared that if you join them, they'll call you by a name that you don't call your own," Dazai says simply.

Matter of fact.

The words - the first admission, the first confirmation of something he's kept hidden away for so long - are as much a punch to Chuuya's gut as seeing Dazai with silvery fox-features all those years ago had been.

"What, and you think they wouldn't? And what about if some demon decides they want Arahabaki back? What then? I don't even- what if that does something to me-"

"It wouldn't," Dazai says firmly, "and even if it could... no one would do that to you."

"And how do you know that?"

He's holding onto himself, now - arms around his own chest, and hyper-aware of the hat still resting on his head, even with the demon-mask resting on his face that Dazai seems to be able to see right through.

"Because," Dazai says. He hesitates. Chuuya can tell in the tension in the air and in Dazai's body, that it's a true hesitation, a moment of indecision. "Because," Dazai continues slowly, "no one calls me anything other than 'Dazai Osamu', either."

Chuuya blinks, and then feels all of the air leaving him at once.

It's the first time he's ever heard Dazai willingly talk about any life before being Dazai, ever. And here he is, admitting that at one point, this hadn't been his name. That he'd been someone else. Known as someone else. That perhaps Chuuya could look in the history books and find someone with a different name, and they'd have Dazai's face looking back at him.

It's a sobering thought, the amount of trust - beyond even their normal - that such a piece of knowledge suggests. But at the same time, it's simply an extension of the invitation extended to him, and his mouth dries.

"I... thanks. I'm sorry. I just - maybe... I just need more time too, Dazai."

"That isn't a 'no', though."

He lets out a breathy laugh, which sounds stranger than even his normal speech, coming from under the mask.

He feels like he's walking on thin ice. Walking the edge of a tall building, with Dazai keeping pace with him, so that he might be touched and nullified at any moment, that sense of vertigo that only Dazai can give him.

"No, no, it's... not. I guess. I mean... maybe next year, Dazai."

He looks back at Dazai, only to see his partner smiling from ear to ear, with his eyes closed, just like a fox, and like this he can even see the sharp fangs in Dazai's mouth that are like a physical manifestation of all the harm the man can do with his words, but right now it just looks kind of... cute.

"Next year, then," Dazai says happily, still smiling.

"And what about you? You going back in, or...?"

Dazai shrugs.

"It doesn't matter that much to me either way," he says. "The parade is fun, and everyone there enjoys having me, but... if Chuuya is here, then that's where I think I'll stay."

He loses the ability to breathe all over again, albeit for different reasons entirely.

Dazai will go back to the Agency in the morning, he knows that, and he'll probably act as though tonight never happened to most if not all of the people he works with, same as what happened when they both worked together in the mafia. Chuuya will go back home, and he'll wake up in the morning and go to work, and in general... life will go on. As normal.

If Chuuya is here, then that's where I think I'll stay, Dazai had said, though.

For two years, he'd avoided the parade entirely in large part just because he'd been afraid that hadn't been the case, and Dazai had just left, given up on being human at all, and the Dazai he next met would be more fox than not, would look different, older, stranger, and it haunted him in his dreams. This Dazai that no longer cared about humanity at all, and sometimes hadn't even recognised him.

And now - now, hearing those words... more than the first time they'd met in person again, more than seeing him as a human being, more than Corruption and knowing he could still trust and more than knowing Dazai was trying to be more human than he'd ever been in the mafia-

Something shifted.

Chuuya sighed.

For the first time, he felt comfortable just to watch the parade go by, without the indecision of whether he wanted to risk knowing whether he was too human to not be carried away by it, or not human enough.

Instead, he's just happy to stay where he is.

...

AN: If you think I'm suggesting that "Tsushima Shuji" or any other name Dazai might have taken is effectively a deadname to him and has been ever since he became "Dazai Osamu" and he has distanced himself from that past life or lives, then you're absolutely right. By which, there is the implication of - as Chuuya figured - just how big of a deal even admitting one existed to Chuuya means to Dazai himself.

#bsd #bsd stuff #Leona fic #soukoku #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai

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foreverwayward · 5 years

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 11: Time is On My Side

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 7415

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

In an abandoned cabin, hidden away from the world, the fireplace roared. Its light danced across the walls and was the only illumination in the room, keeping the darkness outside at bay.

Screams of suffering went unheard as a demon cried out in agony. The possessed man was strapped to a chair in the center of a devil’s trap as holy water was thrown into his face. His flesh sizzled and steam seeped from the vessel’s skin and faded into the air.

Sam, Dean, and Riley stood in front of him unmoved. The hunters were going to get answers with the clock running out for Dean. As they had run out of ideas, they interrogated a lower level demon.

“You ready to talk?” Dean shouted into the creature’s burning face.

“I don't fucking know!” It thrashed against its restraints. “I don't know anything!”

With a mocking expression, he turned to his partners. “Oh, you hear that, guys? He doesn't know anything.”

Sam smirked as he replied, “yeah, I heard.”

“I'm telling you the truth!” it cried.

With a wry laugh and condescending smile, Riley took large strides to have herself eye to eye with the demon. “You guys,” she feigned. “He says he’s telling the truth. I guess we owe him an apology.”

“You’re so right, Rye.” Dean grabbed the monster’s face and forced holy water into its mouth before it garbled a deafening cry, “I'm gonna ask you one last time...who holds my fucking contract?!”

The demon went quiet, his head hanging in defeat. When he looked up, his eyes were an evil black as he smiled at the three. “Your mother. Yeah, she, uh--showed it to me right before I bent her over and fucked her ‘til she screamed.”

Riley took a step back as Dean moved into her spot and leaned in. “I want a name. Or else…”

“Or what? You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a flea bite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want, the only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket.”

With a nod from Dean, Sam began to recite an exorcism. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundusspiritus, omnis satanicapotestas, omnis incursioinfernalisadversarii…”

“Go ahead, send me back to Hell. 'Cause when you get there, I'll be waiting for you...with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester.” The demon grew a sinister grin on his face and laughed.

“Should I?” Sam asked as he paused the ritual.

Listening intently to whatever might still remain inside the vessel, Riley sighed. “The guy he’s got locked in there didn’t make it. Get this evil son of a bitch out of here.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed. “Sam, send him someplace he can't hurt anyone else.”

“...omnis legio, omnis congregatio et sectadiabolica.” As Sam continued, the unholy shrieks of pain ripped from the demon, echoing into the night and going completely unheard.

------

Sam sat alone in the cabin’s main room as he made several phone calls. He was just like his brother, whenever he had sniffed out a possible case, Sam was like a dog with a bone.

Dirty and sweating, Dean came in as he wiped his brow and huffed in exhaustion.

As the younger brother ended his call, he sat down on a chair close behind him. “Bury the body?”

“Yeah. Looks like these demons ride 'em hard just for kicks these days.” Dean grabbed a beer from their cooler and popped it open. Taking a large swig, he crashed tiredly onto a beat-up couch.

The front door closed and Riley walked in with bags of takeout. She tossed the Impala’s keys over to Dean as she went to a nearby tabletop with their spoils. “Who’s hungry?”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ starving. Waddya got?” Dean asked. Riley pulled out a wrapped burger from the bags and smirked as he grew excited. “If I haven’t told you yet today, I love you.”

Riley tossed the warm food to Dean he quickly unwrapped it. He moaned happily as he took a large bite.

Sam chuckled. “Should we leave you and your cheeseburger alone?”

“Hey, I think I could show this burger a good time.” Filling his mouth again, Dean watched Riley as she grabbed her own beer. She had found a large and worn cushion tossed to the side and sat cross-legged as she readied to eat her own meal. “What? You too good to sit next to me now?” he teased.

“Mm-mm,” Riley started with a mouthful. “You just kinda fucking stink right now.”

He paused dramatically. “That hurts my feelings.”

“Well, you’re hurting my nose.” She laughed to herself and took another bite. “So, what’d I miss?”

“Uh…” As Sam leaned back into his chair, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “Not much. I was just about to tell Dean I think I found us a case.”

Riley appeared taken aback. “A case? Sam, we’re already on a case.”

“What? Whose?”

“Uh--Dean’s,” she answered incredulously. “We’re down to three weeks, Sam--three weeks.”

“Well, do you have a lead on Richard, or the Colt, or anything that can help us?”

She tensed as she downed more of the cold drink. Riley’s head fell as the bottle sat between her two hands, fiddling with it. “You know I don’t.”

Dean had remained silent as the two talked and he knew Riley was right. Time was not a luxury they had, but Sam wasn’t wrong. With nothing to go on, the hunters were left with countless questions and no answers.

As Dean’s phone rang, he dug into his pocket to pull it out. He looked at the caller ID before flipping it open. “Bobby.” Dean put the call on speaker and held it out for everyone to hear.

“Hey,” their old friend replied. “Think I finally got a lead on Richard.”

“I'm listening.”

“Rufus Turner.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley shrugged at each other not knowing the name. “Who's that? Like a Cleveland steamer?”

“He's a hunter, or he used to be. He’s practically a hermit now--does a little selling on the side. Anyway, I put the word out on Richard months ago. Rufus just called, said a guy got in touch, wanted to buy some things.”

“And he thinks it's Dick?”

“Stuffy British accent went by the name Charles Gardner.”

“He’s used that before. Well, it's kind of a sloppy move, isn't it--getting in contact with one of your old friends?”

“Friend? Haven't laid eyes on him in fifteen damn years. He's not the Christmas card type. I doubt he knows I know him. Canaan, Vermont.”

Riley called out from across the room. “You’re the best, Bobby!”

“One other thing. Take a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.”

Slightly confused, Dean answered, “okay.” He hung up his phone and turned to the others.

“Come on. We’re going Dick hunting.” Dean stopped, almost appalled by what he had said. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“It’s for the best,” Riley retorted with a look of disgust as she got up to gather her things.

“What?” Sam appeared perplexed and his brow scrunched. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second.”

Dean grabbed his bag and turned down the fire that was still ablaze. “Come on. Get your stuff. The clock's ticking.”

“Look, I think we should check out the lead I have on this other case.”

“You insane?” Dean snarked as he turned back to his brother.

“Dean, there's no way he still has the Colt! That was months ago! He probably sold it the second he got it.”

“Well, then I'll kill the bastard. Win-win.”

As Riley threw their bag over her shoulder, she shrugged carelessly. “All in all, wouldn’t be a wasted trip.”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Dean…”

“Sam,” his brother barked. “We're going!”

“No!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I may have found a way to save you!”

Dean’s eyes widened and his voice softened as Riley spun to look at Sam as well. “What? What are you talking about?”

“This case? I’m pretty sure it’s from Doc Benton...real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire in the nineteenth century--brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and…”

Riley stared back at him, puzzled. “Sam, what the hell are you talking about?”

“...and nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead--or missing an organ, or a hand, or some other kind of part. The legend is that whatever he did to himself was actually working to keep him alive.”

“Wait, a minute…” Dean started. “Why does this sound familiar?”

“Because you heard about it when we were kids. Dad hunted this guy down and cut out his heart. Apparently, that didn’t quite do it. But, Dean, this--this is what's gonna save you.” There was nothing disingenuous about Sam’s plan. He truly believed that following the case would finally lead them to answers.

Dean’s brow hooked and he shared a look of disbelief. “What? Chasing some Frankenstein?”

“Chasing immortality.” Sam’s words had both of his partners staring back at him, startled at the idea. “Look, Benton can't die. We find out how he did it, we can do it to you. I mean, you have to die before you go to Hell, right? So, if you can never die, then…”

“Sam, stop!” Dean shouted angrily and the room went still. “You’re not helping! You forget that if I try to welch out on this deal, Riley dies. Guess what? Living forever--is welching.”

“Fine! Then, whatever the magic pill is, we’ll take it too!”

Riley could feel Sam’s sincerity and she leaned her face into her hand as she rubbed her temples. “Look, Sam...I know you wanna save Dean just as much as I do. But I think Bobby’s right. If we hunt down the demon that has Dean’s one-way ticket, then maybe we can stop it. I really think it’s gonna be our best shot.”

“Say you find the Colt, then what? None of us even know who holds the contract.”

Raising his voice again as he felt his frustration grow, Dean bit back at him. “Well, I'll shoot the goddamn hellhounds then before they slash me up. Now, you coming or not?””

“I'm staying here,” Sam said quietly, certain of his decision.

“No, you're not. 'Cause I'm not gonna let you wander out alone to find some organ-stealing freak.”

“You're not gonna let me? How are you gonna stop me?” As Sam went on, Dean appeared taken back again. “Look, man, we're trying to do the same thing here.”

“I know, but I'm going. So, if you wanna stay...stay.” Dean shook his head when Sam didn’t answer. He shrugged and took the duffel from Riley before hanging it on his shoulder.

“Come on,” he told her as they both went for the door. Sam didn’t move but they both hesitated before turning back to him. “Sammy, be careful.”

“You too.” He and Dean stared at each other for a long moment before Dean reached out for the doorknob and walked outside.

Riley’s eyes still sat on her brother lovingly. “I know you wanna save him, Sammy. You do what you think is right.”

As Riley left, closing the door behind her, Sam let out a long and drug out sigh.

------

After driving through the night, the Chevy rolled to a stop in front of an older home on a quiet suburban street. Its colors were tacky with a mix of dark red and light green. Angled tall steps led up to an elevated porch with massive weeds lined around it.

Riley and Dean shut their doors behind them as they headed up the walkway. As they reached the porch, they saw a handwritten sign that read: ‘No solicitors. That means you! No asking for directions. No selling ANYTHING!’

Under her breath, Riley muttered, “well, Rufus just sounds like a breath of fresh air.”

Dean chuckled as he rang the buzzer and banged on the metal security door. The hunters both turned to a sound and looked up to see a camera moving to focus in on them.

“What?” a harsh voice barked over the intercom.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hi, uh--Rufus?”

“Yeah...even if I am, the question is still the same. What?”

“Uh--I'm Dean Winchester. We’re friends of Bobby Singer's.”

“So?”

Riley shrugged as the two shared a look. “Hi, Rufus. I’m, uh--Riley Munroe. Listen, we heard from Bobby that the guy we’re looking for made contact with you. He’s British…”

“And so?”

“So...do you know where he is?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. Would you please tell us where we can find him?”

“No.”

“’Course not,” Dean muttered under his breath. “Look, Rufus, man…”

The two doors quickly flung open as an irritated man stood in the doorway. He was roughly Bobby’s age with dark skin, a full mustache, and short hair.

With the cereal bowl he was still working on in his hand, he studied the couple. “Look, let me point something out to you. You are knocking at my goddamn door, so don't ‘look, man’ me. I'm not your man.”

Realizing he may have stepped in it, Dean apologized with a nervous smile. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“Alright, let me tell you a little story. See, once upon a time, Bobby called me--asked me to call him if I got a whiff of this Richard Lewis. I got a whiff, I called, the end.”

“Okay, yeah, if you could just tell me where he is, I mean, that would be great.”

Rufus stopped as he stared back at the young hunter. “Dean Winchester, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, do I look like I'm here to help you?”

“I'm gonna say...no?”

“Then get the fuck off my property.”

Riley tried to regain the man’s attention as he began to head back inside. “Listen, that’s totally fair. But, uh--” she reached into the bag on Dean’s shoulder and pulled out a tall box with the Johnny Walker label. “We have this scotch, and, uh--we weren’t sure if it was any good.”

As Rufus eyed the bottle of his favorite scotch, he looked back at the couple and smiled with a nod of approval.

------

Inside Rufus’ home, the three sat at his collapsible card table as they each nursed a glass of Johnny Walker. The bottle was already nearly empty as they finished pouring another round.

“Bottoms up,” Dean said gruffly as they all clinked their glasses together with a soft chuckle from Rufus.

“You know, I don't even bother drinking unless it's this stuff. Nectar of the Gods, I'm telling you.”

“Mm…” Riley started as she seethed through her next sip. “I’m enjoying the change. Most of Dean’s whiskey tends to come in the form of a plastic jug.” As she shot him a look, the three hunters laughed. “Alright, so back to business. Richard was here…”

“He wanted to buy a couple of things, which is gonna take me some time to round up.”

Anxious for answers, Dean jumped into the conversation. “Where is he now?”

Rufus watched Dean closely for a moment and Riley could feel his skepticism. “You got three weeks left. Why are you wasting your time chasing after that English asshat in a suit?”

Now suspicious of Rufus, the couple shared a glance. “How do you know about that?”

“Because I know things.” The older man leaned in intensely. “I know a lot of things about a lot of people. And I know ain't no goddamn peashooter gonna save you.”

Riley and Dean grew more anxious as they continued to drink, desperate to calm their nerves. “What makes you so sure?” Dean questioned coolly.

“‘Cause that's the job, kid. Even if you manage to scrape out of this one, there's just gonna be something else down the road. Folks like us...there ain't no happy ending. We all got it coming.”

“Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine?”

The room went quiet and Riley couldn’t contain the hold her abilities had on her. Her constant state of anxiety had made it nearly impossible to control her gifts and the thoughts of others had her feeling like she was drowning.

Knowing she needed a minute to calm down, Riley tossed back the last of her drink. “Rufus, you mind if I, uh--use your bathroom?”

Without a word, he motioned toward the hallway as if telling her to find her own way. Riley nodded gratefully and walked away trying to contain her urge to cry.

Rufus and Dean refocused on each other and the older hunter shook his head softly. “It was a mistake getting so close to someone the way you are with her.”

Dean thought to himself as the corner of his lip barely curled up in a gentle smile. “Nothing with Riley has been a mistake, that much I can tell you.”

“Even selling your soul for her?”

“...I’d have given more to get her back if I had to.”

With a scoff and chortle of disbelief, Rufus poured more scotch into his glass. “Love has got you by the balls, boy. It’s gonna end up costing you everything.”

“Well,” Dean replied as he swirled the liquid in his hand. “Some things are worth everything.”

“It’ll never work out with her. I'm what you've got to look forward to if you survive.” Rufus smirked as he raised his glass to Dean once more. “But you won't.”

Riley’s back leaned into the wall as she listened in. Her eyes were shut and a tear freed itself to run down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and straightened herself up before walking back in to join the others.

As she sat down, Riley ran a hand through her hair and exhaled a hard breath. “So, Richard…”

Clearly quite drunk, Rufus began to slur his words; his eyes looked heavy and tired. “Hotel Canaan. Room 39. But watch your back.”

“I’m not worried about it. We can handle Richard.”

“Oh, don't be so sure about that. There are things that you don't know about him.”

“And I’m assuming that’s because you ‘know things’.”

With a look of superiority, Rufus took another sip. “Yep.” Riley and Dean waited as the older hunter took his time and drug on. “Lifted his prints, he burnt them off. Probably years ago.”

Dean nodded, not surprised with what Rufus had told them. “Yeah, so you're right where we are.”

“Nope.” Again, he stopped the pace of the conversation and waited before going on. “You do his ear?”

“...Sorry?” Dean asked, wondering if he had heard him correctly.

“You do his ear?”

“Hey, man, I'll try anything once, but I don't know. That sounds uncomfortable. I mean, to be honest, he’s not really my type either.”

“Ears are as unique to humans as fingerprints.”

“No kidding.”

“Of course, that don't fly in the courts over here, but in England, they're all over it. A friend of a friend...of a friend, faxed me ten pages of confidential files within a day. All I had to send him was one clean shot off the security camera.” Rufus stood from his seat and walked across the room to his cluttered desk. He grabbed a thick folder stuffed with paperwork and handed it to Dean. “The so-called Richard Lewis.”

------

Crickets chirped loudly through the woods as Sam pushed open an old and squeaky door to a lost cabin in the Pennsylvania forest.

Armed with his flashlight and desperate for answers, the large hunter stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and peered around the main room. Dust filled the air and danced in front of his light. It smelled of dampness and worn wood; curtains torn to shreds still barely clutching to the windows.

Sam walked through the room examining everything that caught his eye. He flipped through pages of antique books he found lying around and crouched to rifle through the small drawers of a desk. When he found nothing, he stood back up only to notice a leather journal with a strange symbol carved into the front.

Knowing he needed to be in and out as quickly as possible, Sam tucked the book into his jacket and moved on.

A large door sat prominently in the middle of the floor. Sam gripped the metal handle and lifted it open as its rusted hinges screeched. Steep steps disappeared into the darkness below him and they creaked under the hunter’s weight as he slowly descended into the cellar.

Cobwebs hung from anything they could cling to and twinkled in the beam of the flashlight. It then bounced off what appeared to be a work station of sorts. Glass bottles, assorted tools, and other odds and ends for Sam thought to be for dissection lined the wooden countertops. Shelves were stuffed to the brim with medical antiquity jars filled with disgusting fluids and papers strung about the walls.

As Sam worked through the dark room, his light landed on a man’s body lying on an old operating table. He moved closer and reached out a hand to check the stranger’s pulse only to feel the cold touch of the man’s skin. How long he had been dead was unclear, but his body was clearly opened and sewn back together before it was crudely covered in a blood-stained sheet.

The sound of gentle tapping caught Sam’s attention and he turned in its direction. It was coming from behind tattered curtains tucked away in the back. He eased his way closer trying to remain as quiet as possible to get a closer look.

Once inside, he found a woman strapped to another operating table. She was a young and beautiful brunette in a white top and blue jeans. Her arms had been stretched out beside her where pieces of skin had been removed. A collection of maggots crawled across the open wounds as the girl remained unconscious.

As Sam leaned in to place his fingers on the pulse point of her neck, the woman gasped and her eyes sprung open.

Violently startled by the girl’s immediate awakening, Sam jumped.

The desperate and terrified woman whimpered and cried as she came to, shaking and fighting against her restraints.

“Shh! Shh! Shh!” Sam repeated softly as he tried to comfort her. “It's okay. I'm here to help you. I'm here to help you. I'm gonna help you.”

With a swift glance around him, the hunter found a large sheet and began to wrap the destroyed flesh on her arms. She sobbed as his touch reminded her of the blinding pain.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” He continued to shush her as he gingerly tended to her wounds.

The sound of a creaking door opening echoed through the house and the woman’s heart began to race out of control. She tried with all she had to stay silent only for her fear took over as she mewled soft but high pitched squeals.

With no other option, Sam covered the girl’s mouth.

As they looked up, a shadow blocked the light out as shoes stomped across the wooden boards. Dust fell at their movement and fluttered down onto them. Sam kept his hand in place to silence the weeping woman while his free hand moved swiftly to free her.

A small window of the cellar caught Sam’s eye and he carried the wounded woman to the wall before lifting her up and out. He softly grunted as he scrambled up behind her and picked her up into his arms once again.

Sam rushed through the woods back to his rental car as the trembling girl clung around his neck.

Once at the car, he placed her in the passenger seat as she groaned in pain. Sam ran around to the driver’s set and pulled the door closed behind him in a hurry.

As he turned the ignition, the car sprung to life. But before he could shift into gear, the glass beside him shattered as the cold hand of Doc Benton reached out for him.

The girl began to scream and backed herself into her side of the car as she shook.

The doctor looked like something out of an old horror movie. His complexion was practically grey with hair that gave the same hue. There were stitches across his face where pieces of skin had been strung together to recreate his face; wrinkles of the dead tissue were prominently indented. The trail of sutures traveled down his neck and underneath his 19th century tattered clothing. His eyes were dead, with one nearly completely white with an expressionless appearance. Doc Benton was a perfect blend of Dr. Frankenstein and his monster.

Benton took hold of Sam’s head and his fingers laced into his hair before slamming him against the wheel multiple times.

As he fought off the decrepit man, Sam wildly shifted into reverse and slammed on the gas pedal. The car roared backward as the doctor tried to hold on before he was flipped onto the hood of the car. He rolled off and hit the dirt ground with Sam’s headlights fixated on him.

Once he doctor began to pull himself up, Sam stared him down as he met Benton’s dead eyes. He threw the car into drive with his teeth gritted and rammed into the creature.

The doc was pulled underneath the small SUV and was crushed by the weight of the wheels. His body made an audible crunching sound as the vehicle bumped over him before Sam sped away with the rescued woman down the dirt road.

Unmoved by the events, Doc Benton stood to his feet once again. His neck was snapped, his head hanging at an obscene angle.

The doctor watched the car disappear into the night as he effortlessly snapped his spine back into place.

------

The hotel door opened to a dark room with the hall light barely able to illuminate inside. Richard stepped in as he closed it behind him and pocketed his keys.

Before he was able to turn around, he was charged at from the darkness and pinned to the wall. There stood a wrathful Dean Winchester with his arm against his throat, his gun pointed at Richard’s face.

“Where's the Colt?” Dean snarled.

Trying to appear calm even as he was threatened, Lewis calmly replied, “Dean. Good to see you, old friend.”

“No extra words.”

“It's long gone, across the world by now.”

“You're lying.” Grabbing the briefcase in Richard’s hand, Dean tossed it onto the bed.

“I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?”

From the shadows, Riley sauntered toward the two with her gun aimed and ready.

“Riley, so good to see you.” As Lewis’ words were spoken, Dean leaned his weight into his throat, causing him to choke ever so slightly.

“Dean…” When he looked over to her, Riley nodded for him to step away. She walked to Richard still standing at the wall as he rubbed the tender muscles at his neck. Her eyes met his and she grabbed his jacket pulling him close.

Richard chuckled under his breath with a look of excitement. “Ooh, there’s the firecracker I remember…”

Quickly frisking him to check for a weapon, Riley took hold of the gun she had found on his waist and held it up.

“Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself.” She reached across him and flicked on the lights as Dean went to search the briefcase. “Don’t...move…” Riley seethed as she backed away to aid her boyfriend, leaving Richard standing against the wall.

“I told you I don't have it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean snarked. “I'm definitely gonna take your word for it.” He turned his back and dumped the contents of the case onto the bed coming up empty-handed.

Riley rifled through the drawers as Richard slid along the wall toward the door.

As he turned to his partner, Dean scratched his nose signaling for Riley to listen. “This shitbag telling the truth?”

All she could do was shrug before speaking back to him telepathically. “I can’t tell. I can’t get in his head. He’s scared as hell, I can tell you that much.”

“Good. He fuckin’ should be.”

When Richard tried to inch away, a gunshot was fired and Lewis grunted at the shock of the bullet missing his head by inches, going clear through the door. He froze and looked back at Dean who stood with his gun still aimed. The hunter was serious with his threats and Richard knew it.

“Don't fuckin’ move.”

Lewis’ breath had quickened and his brow creased with anger. “It's gone. Get on a plane if you must. Track down the buyer--you might catch up to him eventually.”

While Riley bounced her attention back and forth between Richard and her search for the Colt, she watched as Dean marched toward him aggressively. Once in front of Lewis, Dean pointed his weapon to his rival’s forehead and his face twitched with wrath.

Twitching a little with nerves, Richard asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean answered with a coy smile.

“You're not the cold-blooded type.”

“You mean like you? That's true. See, I couldn't imagine killing my parents.”

Flabbergasted, but attempting to regather himself, Richard kept his face deadpanned. “I don't know what you're talking--”

“Yes, you do,” Dean interrupted firmly. “You were, what, 17? Folks died in some shady car accident. Police suspected a slashed brake line, but it was all too crispy to tell. Cut to little Richard--oh, I'm sorry, David...inheriting millions.”

Riley looked Richard in the eyes, seeing how taken back he was. “That’s your real name, isn’t it? David?”

With a sigh of defeat, Richard conceded. “How did you even…��

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Grabbing Richard’s hand in an attempt to connect and read his thoughts, Riley was suddenly met with flashes of memories. It was like watching a movie in fast-forward. She saw moments in time of Richard’s childhood and the unending bruises, cuts, and broken bones through the years.

One moment in particular slowed down as a teenage Lewis laid helpless on the floor, crying and shaking after taking a terrible beating. His father’s footsteps retreated out of the room leaving Richard alone in agony.

As Riley released her hold on him, she was thrust back into the present and blinked rapidly trying to regain her composure. Richard glared at her skeptically, unsure of what had just happened. “They hurt you, didn’t they?”

“What?”

“You made a deal to be free of them--to be free of what you’d been put through your entire life.”

The emotions in Richard shifted and Riley could feel it all. His hard swallow of pain rang through her no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

With a tone Riley had never heard before, Richard’s voice went softer. “You don’t know anything about it. They were lovely people, and I killed them--and I got rich. I can't be bothered to give a damn. Just like I don't care what happens to your Neanderthal boyfriend.”

Again, Dean pushed him roughly against the door with his arm shoved into his throat as the hunter’s jaw clenched. He stared Lewis down for a long and tense minute before growling, “you make me fuckin’ sick.”

“Likewise, Winchester.”

Dean took a step back and held up his gun with a smirk. There was no doubt that Dean wanted the man dead and Richard closed his eyes as he braced for the gunshot.

“Dean…” Riley whispered into his mind. She looked up above the door and his eyes followed hers. A strand of woven herbs was dislodged from the ledge above the door.

Taking a moment to think, Dean stared him down. When nothing happened, Richard opened his eyes and Dean dropped his pistol to his side.

“You're not worth it.” The Winchester grabbed Lewis’ arm and shoved him off to the side before opening the door and leaving.

Riley stopped and her focus went back to Richard. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.” Her eyes welled and her jaw ticked in anger. “But I’ll never forgive you for what your selfishness is about to cost me. Goodbye, Richard.”

As she too disappeared and shut the door behind her, Lewis lifted his hand that had a scrap of paper that he uncrumpled to look at. It was a motel receipt for ‘The Erie’ that he had pick-pocketed from Dean, showing its address and the number of the room rented.

Reaching into his pocket, Richard took out his phone and quickly began to dial. When someone on the other line answered, he told them, “it worked. They found me. No, Sam wasn't with them. But I know where they are.”

------

Baby roared down the highway through the night as Riley made a call while Dean drove on. She put it on speakerphone as the line rang before Sam picked up.

“Riley, you guys get the Colt?”

“What do you think?” Dean asked, utterly frustrated.

“So, does that mean Richard is, uh…”

“No, no--he deserves to die a dozen times over, but I couldn't do it.” Looking over to Riley, Dean was hit with a wave of realization that while still without the Colt, they had no chance of saving him.

As his glance went between the road and the woman beside him, Dean nodded as he clenched his lips. “I’m really screwed, guys.”

Riley sighed. “Dean, don’t talk like that.”

“Sam, you were right. Dick was a goose chase. The Colt’s gone, and this time, I’m really fucked.”

As Riley rested her elbow against the door, she put her forehead into her hand trying to control herself until Sam jumped back in. “Maybe not. Look, Dean, I found Benton's cabin.”

“You okay? Was he there?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

With a look of uncertainty, Riley asked, “no? Why not?”

“Guys, please just listen for a second. I found his lab book, and it has the formula.”

“You’re talking about his zombie formula?”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “It’s not a zombie formula.”

“Let me guess,” Dean started as he resituated in his seat. “I got to drink blood out of a baby's skull?”

“No, that's the thing. It's not black magic. There's no blood sacrifice or anything. It's just science, Dean. Very, very extremely weird science, but…”

Again the couple shared a glance as a small flicker of hope rushed through them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean said as he fumbled over his words. “What are--what are you saying? You think…”

“Dean, I think it might be doable. I mean, I know we've hit a shit ton of walls, but I--I think this formula--I think it might be it. This could save you.”

“Okay, so, this formula…”

“Well, I mean, look--we're not in the clear yet. There are still things that I don't get…” Before Sam could finish his sentence, the sound of garbled grunts and a struggle came through the line.

“Sam?” Riley asked with worry.

With fear and panic in his eyes when he didn’t answer, Dean called out, “Sammy!”

------

Strapped to a wooden operating table in Doc Benton’s damp cellar, Sam’s eyes were wide as they were taped to stay open. His heart was racing and his attempts to free himself were useless against the restraints at his forehead, wrists, waist, and feet.

“You can relax. It's all gonna be okay,” Benton told the hunter as he softly tapped his arm. “Ain't nothing gonna happen here that you got to worry about, Sammy. Your chances of coming out of this procedure alive? Very, very high.”

“How do you know my name?”

The doctor held a metal scooping tool to an open flame and ensured that it had been entirely warmed. “Oh, I know. You think I'm some kind of monster, don't you? Well, I got to tell you, I have never done one thing that I did not have to do. This whole eternal-life thing is very high-maintenance. If something goes bad, like my eyes here--” he told Sam as he leaned over to show off his faded dead eyes. Benton’s cold fingers traced Sam’s forehead as he admired the hazel eyes staring back at him. “You got to replace them. And sometimes things get damaged, like when your father cut out my heart. Now, that--that was very inconvenient. So, I'm sure that you can understand all the joy I felt when I read all about myself here in his journal.” Holding up John’s hunter’s journal, the doctor flipped to a specific page and flashed it in front of the trapped Winchester. “Kind of makes this whole thing just feel like some kind of family reunion, don't it? Well, I guess it's about time that we get this thing started.”

Tossing the journal off to the side, Doc Benton brought the scooper close to Sam’s open eyes. He began to position the tool to remove them completely. The hunter trembled and grunted as he still tried to get free.

Three loud shots rang out as Benton was shot from behind. He turned to see Dean with his gun still raised, though he grew nervous seeing that his attack appeared to have done nothing.

“Shoot all you want.” The doctor approached Dean who let loose two more rounds.

Grabbing him, Benton threw Dean into the wall causing him to crash against assorted items and glass. He groaned at the impact before falling to the ground. As the half-dead man grew close to Dean once more, he leaned down and hovered over him.

A small grunt came from behind him as Riley thrust her blade into the doctor’s back. It went clear through and pierced his heart. He stood erect again and laughed.

“A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand? Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one.”

“Glad to hear it,” Riley retorted while softly panting. “Guess that means it’s gonna be pumping really strong…” She held up a bottle of chloroform with a mischievous expression as Benton began to wobble. “I mean, now this junk is gonna spread through your entire body. You see, Dean and I picked up your little bottle upstairs. A little dip of the knife and...presto.”

With a look of shock as he began to lose consciousness, the monster collapsed to the floor with a moan.

------

Doc Benton’s cries for release came from the freshly dug hole in the ground. Inside, was a refrigerator strapped shut by heavy metal chains. They clanged against the porcelain as the doctor tried to escape.

“No! No! Don't! Stop it! I can help you! No!”

Riley tossed Benton’s book into the hole to disappear along with the monstrous man. “Should’ve been in the ground a long time ago. Better late than never, I guess.”

“Dean...” Sam said softly as his family turned to face him. “We need that formula. I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks, or needing a new pancreas in like half a century.”

“Yeah, well--you can't exactly get those at a Kwik-E-Mart,” Dean countered.

“It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just--just think about it.”

Staying silent, Riley closed her eyes as Sam’s emotions swelled over her like a tidal wave. She could feel his desperation and undying love for Dean. It didn’t matter what the cost, Sam was ready to pay that price to save his brother. And as much as Riley felt the same, she knew Dean too well; there was no way we would ever agree to an existence like Doctor Benton’s.

“...no. What he is, isn't living. Look, this is simple to me, okay? Black or white; human, not human. See, what the Doc is is a fuckin’ monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to Hell.” With one last look into the deep ditch where Benton continued to plead for his freedom, Dean took hold of a shovel. “Enjoy forever in there, Doc.”

As the three hunters began to fill the hole with the freshly dug soil, the muffled screams continued.

“Let me out! I can save you! No. Don't!” The Doc wailed as he was slowly planted in the Earth.

------

The Eerie was a cheap motel that barely had enough business to stay afloat. Its neon lights had random letters flickering as their bulbs died.

On the second floor, Richard’s ridiculously priced shoes tapped against the cheap concrete flooring. He picked the lock of the door and opened it with ease.

As he stepped inside, he drew a gun from his coat and quietly entered. He raised his pistol and pointed it toward the two beds in front of him.

Richard fired three shots through a silencer into the bodies lying under the covers; two in one bed and one in the other.

He moved closer and turned on the bedside lamp. The clock beside the bed showed it was 11:56 PM and he swiftly pulled back the covers. As he did, he revealed a sex doll slowly deflating. When Lewis checked the other bed, two more dolls continued to lose the air that hissed as it seeped out.

Disoriented and clearly in a state of urgency, Richard’s eyes darted across the room. His attention was stolen by the loud ringing that came from the phone on the nightstand.

Picking it up, he put it to his ear.

“Hiya, Dick,” Dean snarked from the other end of the line. “Here's a fun fact you may not know. I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt.”

With desperation in his voice, Richard replied, “you don't understand.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly. See, Rye and I noticed something interesting in your hotel room--something tucked above the door. An herb, Devil's shoestring? There's only one use for that--holding hellhounds at bay.”

As Dean went on, Richard sat on the edge of the bed as he began to accept his fate. His eyes grew red as they filled with tears and he swallowed the massive lump in his throat, threatening his air.

“So, you know what we did? We went back and took another look at your folks' obit. Turns out they died ten years ago...today. You didn't kill them. A demon did your dirty work. You made a deal, didn't you, Dick? And it's come due. Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal--our gun for your soul?”

“...yes.”

Riley could be heard sighing as she interjected. “It wasn’t enough though, was it? Taking the Colt?”

“They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam...and you, Riley.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. But you’d think you’d know by now Richard, demons aren’t exactly trustworthy partners, are they? ...and it’s almost midnight.”

“Riley, I’m out of time and I’m out of options,” Lewis choked out with a broken voice. “I need your help. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“Do you deserve our help? No, you don’t. But the saddest part of all of this? If you would have just told us you needed help, we could have used the Colt and saved you from this mess.”

“I know and saved Dean as well. I know about his deal. The demon that holds it--she holds mine too. She said she holds every deal.”

“Who’s she?”

“Her name's Lilith.”

“Lilith?” Dean scoffed incredulously. “Why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn't, but it's the truth.”

“This can't help you, Dick--not now. Why you telling me this?”

Richard paused as a tear fell down his face. “Because just maybe you can kill the bitch.”

The line went quiet as the hunters were lost in thought. It was Dean that broke the silence. “I'll see you in Hell.”

Dean hung up and Richard was left alone in the motel room as he listened to the deafening dial tone coming from the phone.

The receiver clicked as he hung up and the old clock flipped as midnight made its deadly appearance. Beads of sweat poured from Lewis’ face as deep howling came from the distance. He stood to look out the window, pale with fear.

Closer vicious growls came from behind him and hot panting breath blew through his hair. Lewis inhaled a sharp breath as his eyes squeezed shut.

His time was up, and the pits of Hell were waiting.

------

S3 Finale Prequel: Just for Tonight

Wayward Hearts Tag List: @waywardmoeyy @00slayer @adoptdontshoppets @arctusluna @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @fandommaniacx @death-unbecomes-you @themoonandotherslikeit @x-waywardaf-x @flamencodiva @aaspiringhero @gemini0410 @love-nakamura @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia @deans-baby-momma @paintballkid711 @da5haexowin @a-manduhhhhh @winchestergirl82 @spnbaby-67 @sandycub @bunnybaby121115 @erins-culinary-service @lauravic @moonxdance @knights0fkylo @panicatthewestwing @screechingartisancashbailiff @wiredandwayward @the-children-of-the-stars @rosey1981 @mylovelydame21 @titty-teetee @walkingchemicalfire

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evangelene · 5 years

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Despite What You Are (3)

Summary: Vampires don’t feed on blood, they feed on fear. So, why is yours so potent? Why were you saved by the most dangerous of all vampires–Kim Namjoon?

Based on this request:

“Can i ask for a ff where namjoon is a vampire mafia boss and has a spft spot for you. And you get into trouble woth a rival gang and he goes crazy? Fluffy and angsty 🌹”

Part One / Part Two / Part Four / Part Five

Namjoon, after releasing the information-dump monster that was stewing in his chest for so long, finally decided to open up your world beyond the four walls of your captivity. Granted, the space was still limited—if only because he wasn’t ready to bring you to the bottom floors of the compound. It made sense, because, you know, you were a human in a fucking vampire compound. Hey, there were no complaints from you; you had zero issues with keeping distance between you and the vampires who were, probably, not as kind and thoughtful as the ones you’d met recently.

A.K.A: You liked your head on your shoulders and your blood in your body thankyouverymuch.

You supposed it was also nice that Namjoon didn’t just open your door and murmur something like “go, have fun,” but with a better palette of words than your feeble brain could put together. Perhaps, he too felt that it would be akin to releasing a tamed rabbit into the wild. Instead, he decided to show you around your new expanded quarters.

However, you decided quickly that Kim Namjoon was a shitty tour guide.

You felt more like a student being walked to a restroom by a teacher mid A.C.T instead of being shown a place around a place for you to…exist in…live in?

Live? Where you really planning on living there?

For how long?

Forever?

Damn, you really needed to start thinking ahead a bit more—like more than the next hour, more than the next day. Planning wasn’t your forte, it was as if it was built into your character that you were weak-willed and destined to go along with whatever painfully kinked road life paved for you.

“There’s a bathroom here as well.”

You nodded; raising your eyebrows like this was a new revelation. Toilet + shower + sink = bathroom. Got it.

Honestly, you felt like you were learning the alphabet for the first time.

L is for Library.

K is for Kitchen.

T is for the tortured screams of humans being fed from two floors down.

Yeah, you could hear that shit too—Namjoon promised to try and soundproof as best he could, but you told him not to worry about it, you know, like an idiot. It was almost as if you believed that this man next to you was human. It was almost as if you believed that, if you pressed your lips into a tight enough line, it would make him unable to sense your fear.

The ghastly scream of a woman dying only tightened your gut.

He looked at you over his shoulder, frozen with a quickly paling face and an expression that screamed ‘are you serious?’

You only mimicked his expression, raising one eyebrow but never loosening the purse to your lips. “What?” You tried to make it sound like nothing was wrong, but you were shifty and refused to meet him eye to eye.

It also didn’t help that the man you were trying to hide your fear from was the one species that could sense it better than any other.

“Y/N.”

“Mm?” You stared at the wall, admiring the shitty picture that all office buildings seemed to have. You know, that one same scene of a cabin in the woods with a nice little creek and a boat with no person in it. Was this warehouse/compound/vampire-lair an office complex before? Or did Namjoon choose this painting of all paintings to stare at every fucking day?

“Why?”

“Why what?” You squeaked out, nearly jumping out of your skin at the howl of a man in pain.

“Y/N.” It was a command, one forced out through his nausea—and, consequently, one that only increased your fear.

Wiping your sweating palms on your jeans (new jeans that were apparently brought in by Yoongi, if only because he said his mate was the same size as you and she wouldn’t notice if some of her mountainous clothing went missing), you swallowed. “Well, um...like…you know? I’m human and they’re human and…like…that could be me.”

“That will never be you.” He growled—the safety of which would have been attractive were it not predator to your prey.

“B-but it could be.”

“Why is this bothering you now?”

You stared at him, blankly, like he was stupider than you were. “Well, when I was in that room I couldn’t hear a man scream for help. That room’s pretty damn sound-proof you know, which is even more scary to think about now so can we like talk about something else before you throw up and I pee my pants.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he swallowed down whatever meal-less bile was rising in his chest.

Before you realized it, those moments of listening to real life horror movies playing out beneath your feet ended as quickly as you noticed them--your fear disappearing along with them. You had this hunch that Namjoon had made his clansmen feed elsewhere in the compound—a place out of earshot and without an echo. It fit the bill of his character, at least the only version of himself that you’d seen. Selfishly unselfish, if that paradox made any sense.

What hadn’t changed with your newfound freedom was the fact that Kim Namjoon was adamant that you couldn’t properly take care of yourself if left to your own devices.

So, okay, yes, it might have been absolutely true, but it wasn’t like you were complaining anyways—just stating the obvious. When he entrusted you to be a normal adult and be self-sufficient, he found you curled up with a bag of goldfish crackers instead of an actual meal, cry-laughing at a romantic comedy because…reasons. You may or may not have been on your period at the time and you may or may not have been unable to find any chocolate in the vicinity.

And that was how Seokjin, a pretty damn good cook for someone who didn’t actually eat like a normal human, became your honorary babysitter.

Again, you weren’t complaining—you were fed, had more freedom than you’d ever had at the Hunter’s Association and, more often than not, were graced with company that wasn’t a jock-head moron too full of themselves to note your strengths outside of a fear-filled realm of vampires.

Since when did you stop wanting to escape?

Probably when you started crying for the sake of a vampire mate you shouldn’t care about but inexplicably did.

The only immediate downside to your predicament was the damn near constant dad jokes.

“You know, for the pasta few days it’s been really nice getting to gnocchi you.”

You let out a sigh that had been slowly building for the past half hour stuck in the same room with Kim Seokjin, forgoing face-palming if only to keep hold of the book in your hands. “Do you even know what gnocchi is?” It was mumbled more to the pages than to the man trying not to almost steam his face off with boiling water. Though a brow-less Seokjin would make good blackmail fodder for later, you wanted to avoid the danger if only because you were shit useless when it came to helping heal vampiric wounds.

“No clue.” He shrugged, hissing when he grabbed a metal pot with his bare hand like an idiot (like you would have but, you know, this isn’t about you). “I just saw the word in a human recipe book and I thought that it fit nicely with the joke.”

“Okay now I dare you to try and make a pun out of cavatappi.”

“Pass.” He waved you away as you let out a bark of laughter to the ceiling. However, the fact that you laughed at all—even if it was at him rather than with him—seemed to goad his ego. “Hah! I win!”

“I only laughed because you’re stupid.”

“Still a win, stupidity or no stupidity.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the page over only to come face to face with an illustration more baffling than understanding atomic diagrams in school—well, the schooling that was considered ‘normal’ instead of the Hunter’s Association’s vampire-killing training. You probably (no, you know) you looked like a doofus, your lip curled in confusion as you stared at the image; you were positive you would be able to grow wings on your forehead sooner than you would be able to make sense of the gibberish information spread out before you.

“And I thought human anatomy was difficult.” You frowned at the book. “What the hell is a vesticular astral plane manifestor? And why are there like seven of them? Gah! Does anything about vampires make sense?”

“We’re not any more complicated to understand than you, Miss I-have-203-bones.”

“Its 206.”

“Well you don’t know what a manifestor is.”

“Because humans are normal!”

He scoffed, though his lips were turned up in a smirk. “Yeah, sure ‘Normal’.”

Part of you really wanted to throw the 1800’s equivalent of “vampires for dummies” that you were straining your feeble brain over at him; but, the smarter part of you said that you were hungry and you weren’t willing to risk angering him.

However, you doubted that Kim Seokjin ever actually got angry—he was surprisingly levelheaded for someone who tripped over his own foot every two seconds.

Of course, you were one to talk.

“So like—is this a diagram of a mated vampire then? Or like?” You twisted the book sideways, as if seeing it from the different angle would make it easier to understand. All it did was make the legend harder to read.

“There’s no difference in the anatomy of a mated and an unmated vampire, Y/N.”

“Liar.” You furrowed your brow in concentration. “There’s got to be something to explain cranky-pants.”

“It’s called having a human mate.”

“Bullshit!”

“Do you ever refrain from swearing?”

“Rarely.”

He sighed, shoulders dropping at your proud grunt of victory. “Namjoon is just worried about you, that is all.”

“Hmph. Yeah right, then why does he always make Taehyung and Hoseok go do his random shit just to make sure I’m alone. I swear, if he could make you go away too, he would. What is the point of keeping me if I’m to have no contact with anyone outside of himself? Which is another thing--” You sensed yourself trailing off into a tangent, and, instead of finishing it, you let your voice wander off with your thoughts as you squinted at the tiny print of the legend.

Seokjin laughed, stirring the pot with one hand as he reached up in the cupboard for a strainer. “Yes, probably. Though, it doesn’t help that you are rebellious for someone who got scared of me opening a box of noodles.”

“I was focused!”

“Sure you were.”

Dropping your head to curtain your face with your hair, you let the redness of your cheeks heat and cool down outside of Seokjin’s gaze. “Shut up. I don’t get him.”

You could feel Seokjin’s eyes on you as he turned away from your dinner. “But you’re trying to, right?”

“I--” More redness, more shriveling up within yourself to hide the fact that you were now more tomato than human. “It’s only fair, right?”

Seokjin cocked his head. “Cute.”

You flipped him off.

“Why are you showing me your finger? Is there something wrong with it?”

You sighed, shoulders caving in defeat. “I’m hungry.”

With a roll of his eyes, the elder turned back to the pot to strain the pasta into the sink. “You know his crankiness is just how he shows affection—vampires aren’t known for outwardly caring.”

“Well it’s confusing.” You mumbled to the book, flipping the page if only because you felt a migraine building in your temple from staring at the jumbled image for so long.

“What’s confusing?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Namjoon’s voice, turning to see him leaning against the doorway, face screwed in disgust. Clutching the fabric at your chest, you relaxed enough to let out a sigh that somewhat calmed the erratic heartbeat slamming into your fingertips. “You deserve every bit of that.” You glared at him.

Swallowing the nausea, he raised an eyebrow at you with the smallest of smirks. “I suppose I do—however, it would be much appreciated if you learned to be less afraid of everything that comes your way; specifically, of the harmless factors in your life.”

Halfway through his speech, you turned back to the book splayed out on the table with a grunt that neither confirmed nor denied his statement.

Silence blanketed the room for only a few seconds, and then you sensed the agitation from the man in the doorway mere moments before his voice echoed across the room. “So you’re just going to ignore my question?” He lifted his gaze up from you to Seokjin who was currently too busy dumping pasta back into the pot via strainer.

Seokjin only shrugged.

Your attention was focused on the text rather than the clan leader, purposefully avoiding him for the sake of your own pride.

“Y/N.”

“Mm.”

He sighed, on the verge of banging his head against the wall just to get your attention. Part of you fully believed that he was attempting to direct his thoughts at you in the hopes that maybe—just maybe—you would be able to hear them; but, alas, you were human.

And even if you weren’t, you were denser than clay.

He licked his lips. “What is confusing?”

Ah, so it was like that.

He was a man that didn’t like to be left out of the loop—which was probably one of the traits that made him so crazy successful at being a clan leader. You were at least thankful that he was much more polite than people you’d met in the past who held a similar character trait. It might have been unwanted wishful thinking, but you wanted to believe that this unashamed desire to know what was going on was a trait mostly reserved for you and you alone.

The majority of you wanted to ignore the fact that you were becoming that much more intuitive to him.

“You are.”

He visibly relaxed when you finally answered, though the actual response seemed more troubling than your grumpy silence. “How so?”

You pursed your lips at the book, unable to formulate the answer in a way that would pass your lips aloud without your face turning the color of the pasta sauce Seokjin was grabbing.

Your affection is strange and confusing. I don’t get it. I just don’t understand why… You paused, head snapping up. Hey wait—doesn’t pasta sauce normally…

“Seokjin!” You nearly screeched, chair slamming to the ground behind you as you dove over the table with enough force to nearly flip it completely. Heart pounding against your sternum with adrenaline, you clasped his hand tight on top of the lid he was about two seconds away from unscrewing from the jar, nails digging in tight enough to bruise but not to cut—you were a nail biter, so there wasn’t much there to actually cut with. “Don’t!” Was the only thing that you could manage to say past the blood rushing in your ears.

Heaving in air like you were freshly drowned, you stared at Seokjin as if he was the biggest idiot on the planet. Out of your peripherals, you could see Namjoon torn between puking and being frozen in a pose that suggested that the building was about to burst down in a hail of bullets.

It was strangely comforting that his first reaction was for him to come towards you rather than out the door, despite the fact that your fear made him sick as hell.

“What?” Seokjin stared back at you, wide-eyed and with concern knitting his brow.

You removed one of your hands from the lid, slapping his away with it in order to take the jar from his grasp. Spinning it towards you, you squinted at the ingredients label.

“There’s garlic in this you moron.”

“What?”

With a shaky sigh, you sat back on your heels and let out a laugh that was enough to relax both you and the males in the room. “Pasta sauce usually has garlic in it, idiot—did you not check it before hand?”

He shrugged. “How was I to know? I don’t eat human food—besides, I did see some sauce recipes that included garlic and some that didn’t.”

“So you didn’t think to check?” You repeated, clutching the jar to your chest like the garlic could seep through glass and hurt your babysitter and infuriating savior.

“It didn’t say so on the front so I assumed it was fine.”

You wanted to facepalm and/or throw something at the male; it was like talking to a two year old—but you supposed you had to give them the benefit of the doubt considering they didn’t know any better. They weren’t human.

It was probably the same thing when they spoke to you about the concerns of vampires.

“I…” You pursed your lips, holding onto the jar tighter in your death grip as if they might try and wrestle it from you and hurt themselves. “Just the noodles are fine.”

Seokjin cocked his head. “I’m sure we can make something that’ll taste better—I’ve read that noodles are bland on their own.”

You chuckled, feeling Namjoon’s eyes on the side of your face as you shook your head. “Its fine, Jin, I’m just thankful for the food as it is.” Climbing down off the table, you spun the jar around in your grasp as you analyzed the kitchen, deciding what to do with it. Because you were dumb and because you had no willpower to figure it out after that heart attack, you stepped towards the farthest cupboard to tuck the jar back up and away—out of sight out of mind, for now.

“But—“

“It’s fine, really.” You grinned at the elder man before turning to finally face Namjoon. You hated how his stare made your heart do strange gymnastics in your chest despite you doing everything in your power to stop it. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his head cocked to the side. “Nothing.”

There’s obviously something.

He only hummed in response and you didn’t have a spine strong enough to pursue it further.

~.~

Now that the world was open to you—well, now that you could exist in more than one room and one room only—you liked to sit next to the window when you read. Though, it was really only as close as you could manage to get to said window. Namjoon, being a clan leader, had gone through extensive preparations in order to ensure your safety.

Even if it felt more like baby locks on a cabinet door versus protection for yourself.

There were bars on the windows to stop things from getting in—or out, but you know, he glossed over that part—and on top of that, there was shit blocking the windows and a nice, strict line taped directly to the floor to indicate where you weren’t supposed to stand. The furniture blocking the immediate access to the window was even bolted to the damn floor; so, unless you were a spider monkey (you tried, you were not much of one), you couldn’t directly disobey.

Sitting on top of the tape—more on the side you shouldn’t be on than the side you should be on—you thought that it was kind of cute how worried he was about you. Also kind of borderline new parent in a game of “why is my child trying to kill itself?” but you know, cute nonetheless.

“Y/N, what if someone has a gun? That glass isn’t bulletproof!”

You stared at him like he was the most idiotic person you’d ever met—and damnit you had to meet yourself every single day of your life. “What vampire uses a gun?”

“Y/N!”

You had the same book in your hands—a book that you were beginning to look at with fondness now, maybe because it took so damn long for you to make sense of any of; or, maybe, it was because it made you that much closer to understanding Namjoon a tiny bit better.

Why you wanted to was a forced secret between you and your subconscious.

Flipping past the anatomy section, you moved onto the middle bit—the one you only opened when you knew you were absolutely alone. To be caught red-handed reading about vampiric mates would be embarrassing, especially when you’ve spent so long in denial.

Vampires are not creatures whose relationships strive off of physical affection. While monogamous, they focus on their intellectual connection and reserve touches for necessary occasions or for procreation.

You flipped to another page, enjoying the sunlight warming your face. It was nice to see something other than brick, drywall and the same four vampires.

Mates are the source of life for each other. While a mate’s fear is nauseating, there is power in having a mate by one’s side. This source of energy far outweighs any benefit gained by feeding from a human’s fear via death; one’s abilities are near limitless in presence or defense or their mate.

You pursed your lips as if you could actually comprehend that—it didn’t add up enough with your current experiences to make any sense. All you’ve noticed is that you have only ever been a hindrance to Namjoon. Annoying, loud, injured and afraid of everything that comes your way—none of those equaled power of any sort.

Despite the disagreement, you devoured the words page after page, the expanses of unread passing and decreasing in the blink of an eye. The book captured your attention to the point that the world dropped around you, transporting you somewhere far away from the compound—from the sun and the ground.

To touch a vampire is a rare occasion; one that should be cherished fully, for it is foreign. Be thankful, even if touched as nothing more than a meal. To any human who may have stumbled across this book written by vampires about vampires, it is a pity that your level of comprehension is lacking and therefore you cannot understand just how complex the workings of vampire communication are.

I pray that this book leaves your hands before you are made a meal of.

And, to any vampires who have found this, may this book bring you a greater understanding of self and may our future be prosperous—may our kind be pulled out of the shadows to rise once more.

“Okay, dude, you had such a good thing going and then you just had to shit on us humans, didn’t ya?”

You grumbled to the pages, still too lost to notice that you weren’t alone in the room. Still too lost to notice that Seokjin’s piercing gaze from the doorway was catching you in a place where you were obviously not supposed to be and reading a book you obviously weren’t supposed to be interested in.

Okay, the latter was only obvious to your ass backwards human emotions that said “FUCKING RUN DON’T LET HIM KNOW” anytime you showed interest in another human being…well...in this case…being.

“Is there something you wish to know about mates, Y/N?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, the fear screeching up your spine and out of your body in a flash so quick that not even Seokjin had time to digest it; at least your recoveries were getting quicker.

“I appreciate the morsel, but you are off limits to feed from.”

You threw your finished book at him, the old leather creating an arc of dust that left a trail of sparkling particles lit up by the beam of sunlight. “If y’all would wear heels or something so I could at least hear you coming it would be great.”

He only laughed and, for a moment, you expected there to be fangs despite being well aware that the stereotype was incredibly false.

“Asshole.” You muttered, your calming heart allowing you to lean back so the weight of your body rested on the heel of your palms. “What do you want?”

“Well I came in pursuit of inquiring about supper, but now I’m more curious as to why you are investigating mates.”

Your head dipped to your chest, the rising heat of your skin causing you to want to put a barrier between you and Seokjin’s gaze.

“That’s a nervous tic of yours, you know that? You always try and hide your embarrassment.”

“No shit Sherlock, you think I’m unaware of this?” You curled your lip at your dusty, jean-clad knees. “You know, you don’t have to point out the obvious just because you notice it.”

“Who the hell is Sherlock?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”

“You swear quite a lot too, humans are honestly so vulgar.”

You really wanted nothing more than to flip off the vampire, but you knew that he wouldn’t understand the offense to the gesture and so you curled your hands into fists if only because, if you were going to go through the effort, you wanted him to feel your spite.

“What is on your mind, Y/N?”

You winced. Why did you wear everything on your face? You wondered if Namjoon was able to read you just as well, or maybe Seokjin was just well versed in the language of idiot. “It says vampires hate touching.”

There was silence for a moment while Seokjin gathered his words, as if sensing this was a sensitive subject for you. Why was it so sensitive? You didn’t know? Did you really want to hold Namjoon’s hand? Cuddle with him? Take long walks on the beach hand in hand?

Brain don’t you dare answer that, don’t betray me now.

Yes. Yes you did.

Fuck you.

The inner war had you making yet another face at your knees.

“Well, yes, we’re not fond of it. To us, it doesn’t really make much sense.”

You grunted, screwing your eyes shut to the memory of his hands on your face, brushing away your tears as you nearly hyperventilated in his chair. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, ridding yourself of the memory with a shrug as you swiveled yourself to properly face him. “Actually, it’s nice timing that you found me. I have a proposition for you.”

He settled into his hips, one eyebrow raised. “Mm? But is this a proposition I’ll be interested in?”

You laughed, eyes sparkling with a dangerous fire. “Probably not, but I can be pretty persuasive.”

“Well, I shall be the judge of that.”

You smiled, tilting your chin. “How confident are you in human medicine, Jinnie?”

“Why do I not like the pet name? It sounds like you want something that I don’t want to give you and that is scarier than any vampire out there.”

“Answer the question.”

He frowned at you. “Why?”

You refused to pull your stare from his, nails digging into the wooden floor. “I want you to take out whatever bullshit you found in me. I want you to put me under—if you can, if you can’t do it while I’m awake—and open my chest and rip out that fucker. Preferably, I would like you to close me back up and make me better afterwards.”

His eyes widened with each sentence, growing even wider at the lack of a joke in your expression and the utter seriousness to the wicked glint in your stare.

“Y/N…Namjoon—Namjoon’ll—“

“He doesn’t own me.” You cut him off, shoulders relaxing as the elephant in the room finally reared its head and left. “This is what I want. This is what I need you to do for me.”

“Y/N—I don’t know…I don’t know if I’m able to do that without killing you. I’m not a surgeon, not a healer—nevertheless for a human. I’d have to read up on it and even then…”

“Then read. Figure it out. I don’t care what happens, if I’m—“ a spike of fear that you swallowed, it undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed by Seokjin. “—if I’m going to be irreparable, if I’m going to be damaged or maimed afterwards, that’s fine. I would like to be alive—and unharmed—but if that doesn’t happen, it’s…” You screwed your eyes shut, remembering those warm gold eyes. “It’s what it is. I’m not going to watch him get hurt because of me.”

“You’re doing this for Namjoon?”

“I’m doing this for me, Jin. I’m doing this for me.”

“What happens when you die? What happens to me when Namjoon finds out what we did?”

You pursed your lips, raising one challenging eyebrow. “You won’t let me die that easily.”

He sighed, licking his lips as he stared at the wall, the bookshelves, the window—anything that wasn’t staring directly back at him and would allow him a moment’s contemplation. “Y/N, do you honestly trust me that much that you are willing to put your life in my hands? I am a vampire, I have control over my urges but…I—“

“I trust you.” You said with the utmost certainty. “If there’s anyone in this whole compound I trust, it would be you.”

He nodded, more to himself than to you, and finally, finally, lifted his gaze back to yours. There was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I told you,” you chuckled, “I’m pretty convincing.”

Laughing on a mini-eyeroll, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I haven’t made my mind up about that. However, I believe that I will agree to your proposal—on my terms. Firstly, it will take preparation. I need to read more and gather the necessary materials without Namjoon’s knowledge; secondly, I presume you don’t want him to be aware of this proposition?”

You cocked your head. “How likely do you think this would actually happen if Namjoon were to know?”

“Alright then.” He nodded. “I will also need time to find a space to do this in, and you will need to craft a proper time to allow this—a time when Namjoon is not around. I will leave that one to you as you are more aware of his movements than I am.”

“So, it’s a deal?”

He grinned. “We have a deal.”

~.~

There were a lot of things that you didn’t expect to happen when you found out you were captured by a vampire. You didn’t expect kindness, you didn’t expect someone to claim to be your mate and then not love you at the end of it. You didn’t expect to be healed and then treated like a precious pet. You didn’t expect to find friends and understanding in creatures that had only shown you pain and agony.

And honestly, the last thing you expected out of everything was to find the biggest, baddest clan leader of the entire continent huddled up under a blanket like an absolute child, his eyes glued to a television set positively blaring a really shitty romance movie.

Okay, maybe it was supposedly a good romance movie—but you cringed easily and thus you preferred romantic comedies because laughter eased awkward situations.

That wasn’t the point anyways, the point was that the room he had holed himself in screamed anything but good—like there were ghosts in the walls of people who had died and/or been tortured to hell there. It was a room that he probably thought that you would never go in, considering you were literally afraid of everything and this room screamed doom and terror. However, fear didn’t mean that you weren’t stupid enough to explore places you shouldn’t.

And thus, the idiot in a blanket watching two humans make out in a room with bloodstains on the wall and deep-rooted marks on the floor looked up as you threw open the door, his eyes wide and glowing gold at the scent of your momentary fear.

They dulled to a brown when your fear subsided at the absolute absurdity of him.

He paused the screen as if he wasn’t caught red handed watching something that would embarrass most human men. You had never seen Namjoon embarrassed, and he didn’t appear to be so now either.

However, he didn’t look entirely comfortable in your presence.

Adorable.

The two of you stood like that for a moment, him on the floor of the torture chamber and you standing in the doorway with the hall-light illuminating your back. There were no words—hell, not even a coherent stream of thought--bouncing around inside your skull.

Just confusion, lots and lots of confusion. Especially as your eyes took in the makeshift bed, the pillows, the things that suggested that you had finally figured out where Namjoon had been sleeping all these months.

Why here?

More confusion.

“You shouldn’t be here. You should be smart enough to know that this wing brings no good—you weren’t allowed to come down here.”

Your thoughts collided into clarity with your sudden sense of defiance. “And since when have I ever listened to where I can and can’t be?”

You thought of the time he caught you leaning against the window, having climbed over his barricades just to get some sunlight. He had been so angry and you had been so terrified that it should have prevented you from doing is a second time, a third time, the thirty-first time….

Well, it didn’t.

And the lack of amusement on his face now, surprisingly, didn’t make you feel afraid—instead, it only created plenty for yourself.

“Why are you watching this?”

He frowned at the television, his gaze refusing to meet yours—you had to say, that was the closest you’d ever seen the man come to your ‘human embarrassment’.

“I wanted to understand something, and I was told that this would be the best option to try to do so.”

You cocked your head, taking a deep breath as the pieces clicked just far enough and you stepped deeper into the room towards him. You tried your best not to jump as the door shut behind you and locked you in almost darkness, but you knew you failed when your steps skipped and you nearly fell on your face.

Namjoon only watched you approach him, his eyes never leaving you as you made your way towards him and lowered your ass to the cold, hard ground next to him.

You tried not to think about the bloodstains; luckily, it was easy enough when you had Namjoon next to you.

Even easier still when the glow from the romance movie hit your face as he pressed play on the remote by his side. Seemed he was one, enjoying the movie and two, impatient when it came to getting back to it.

“What did you want to understand?” You said finally, watching the couple on the screen run into each other in the rain, their kisses passionate and utterly cringey to you who could barely even touch the person who cared about but didn’t love you.

“I wanted to understand human affection, since mine is apparently so confusing.” His voice almost made it sound like he was pouting, and, to be honest, it was kind of cute and comedic to imagine that a clan leader was pouting over something so stupid.

His hands tightened around the blanket.

“So you did this because of me? And you didn’t want me to find out?” You curled your knees to your chest, the cold of the floor seeping through the fabric of your jeans, sending a freezing hand down your spine.

He nodded.

You wanted to tell him that it was fine, that he didn’t have to do all of this for you. He didn’t have to try and understand your version of affection, he didn’t have to pretend like he loved you, he didn’t have to do anything more for you than he’d already done. However, you couldn’t get the words out because the locked emotion in your chest prevented you from letting any of the lies escape.

It would be false, it would be wrong.

If you were to be stuck with someone, if you were to have someone claim to be your mate, you wanted them to love you. You wanted to be able to love them—you wanted that contact, skin to skin and heart to heart. The past few years devoid of any sort of care, touch or conversation at the Hunter’s Association made you want all of those even more. You wanted to care about someone, and you wanted them to care about you.

For some reason, you still had enough fight in you to believe that you didn’t actually care about Kim Namjoon.

The fact that you cried over his safety was enough to prove that your head and your body were at a disconnect and you desperately wanted your brain to be the truth teller.

You knew it wasn’t.

It never was.

“Thank you.” You murmured, suppressing your shiver as you rubbed out the goosebumps on your forearms.

Both of you watched the couple on the screen, watched how they kissed, how they spoke to each other and held each other’s hands. You watched them hug, watched them huddle on a bed and speak with their parent’s about a dramatic engagement that was fated to be disliked by whatever awful future-in-laws and evil bitches were trying to break it up.

God, honestly, romance movies were so damn dramatic.

“Why aren’t you afraid?”

You cocked your head at him, pulling your gaze from the television long enough to see him staring at you from the corners of his eyes.

“This room, by previous standards, should terrify you—but you’re not afraid. Not at all.”

There was heat creeping its way up your neck, spreading across your ears. For once, you didn’t have to duck your head to hide it from him—the room was dark enough as it was. “I—It’s not scary.” You murmured, trying to force the words from your mouth instead of your head—but, you were weak and it was easier to think them then to say them.

I think it’s because you’re here.

There was a moment where you almost believed that he didn’t hear you, that suddenly whatever mate bond the two of you had didn’t allow him to detect that string of thought. However, after a long pause, after a moment of studying the couple’s next kiss, he let go of one side of his blanket.

Suddenly, there was access to his flank.

You stared at him, confused and unable to read the nonverbal cues he was giving you.

“It’s cold.” He said, like that made any sense for him to no longer have a blanket on one side of himself.

“Yea.” You wanted to spit something else sarcastic at him, but for whatever reason there was a moment there between you that you didn’t want to shit on.

At least not yet.

“Humans get cold easily, do they not?”

“And vampires don’t like to touch. Why are we stating the obvious?” You said equally as stupid as the man besides you.

Seemed he, too, had a hard of a time getting out cheesy phrases.

“Y/N.” He sighed.

You ran your tongue along your teeth, opting for the coward’s way out since it was easier and you were terrified of the way your heart constricted at the thought that this was what you thought it was.

Can I?

Without looking at you, he reached his arm around you and brought your shoulder to his, winding the blanket around the both of you.

Surprisingly, he was warm. It shouldn’t have been surprising, they still had circulatory systems—they still had a heart that beat; you blamed the fact that everything that was associated with the word vampire before 2048 screamed cold. The chill from the floor was nothing compared to the furnace that was Kim Namjoon.

You kept your hands in your lap, if only because you were positive that, if they weren’t, they would find his—and this had to be enough. It was going to be enough for you. You were going to make sure that this was enough for you.

Maybe he would never love you, maybe he would never reach over to hold your hand or kiss you—maybe he would never tell you anything about how he felt. Maybe it would never be like how your parents were; maybe it would never be like the movies. Maybe he would never understand you and maybe you would never understand him.

But this was enough.

And you were starting the long journey of being okay with that.

“Why do humans kiss? It doesn’t make any sense and it seems incredibly unsanitary for beings that fall ill so easily.”

You groaned. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“What moment?” He frowned, turning to look at you like you were speaking gibberish. For once, it might have been helpful if he could read your thoughts like a normal mate.

With a sigh, you reached up and gingerly touched his face with two of your fingers, forcing his expression back to the television. “Just watch your movie.”

“Do you like courtship movies?”

You let out an unintentional bark of laughter. “It’s called romance, dumbass. And not particularly, I like romantic comedies but I prefer action oriented movies in general—considering I’ve got the attention span of a squirrel.”

“You’re about as brave as one too.”

You contemplated smacking him, but you were too comfortable to put in too much added effort, so you resorted to making a stupid face that had him laughing without ever even looking at you.

~.~

The bedroom that you almost died in suddenly felt too cramped and too full—considering all seven aware of your existence were piled in there like it was some party. Lucky for you, Hoseok and Taehyung seemed adamant on making it one by inviting you to play a shitty board game they found in an abandoned apartment complex. You didn’t know whether to call this bedroom yours or Namjoon’s, considering he had probably used it before your ass came running down the street with a child in your arms and a vampire on your heels. However, you’d never seen him sleep there.

You assumed he resorted himself to holing up in that awful torture chamber of a room for your peace of mind at night.

He still thought that you couldn’t be vulnerable around him.

For once, the man that was usually right was dead wrong.

You had no idea why they all suddenly decided to burst in on you and the idiot brigade’s fun time. But, with Hoseok’s knee a millimeter away from touching yours and six other vampires in the room, you thought that it was interesting just how damn different they could be when it came to contact.

Taehyung avoided touching you, though you had this inkling that he was secretly a hugger. Hoseok hated, hated contact but enjoyed being almost there at all times. And then, well then there was Yoongi. Yes, granted he had a mate, and granted he was a grumpy son-of-a-bitch most days, but he was an outlier in the mix. If you thought Namjoon was bad when it came to physical contact, Yoongi, who only ever sat in a corner avoiding everyone’s advances, was a trillion times worse.

Rolling the dice to the game, you looked up as Namjoon made up the last and final of the seven by stepping into the room. Honestly, you didn’t mean to look up to him—you didn’t mean to be drawn to him—but it was like it was natural. He had that aura that exuded ‘leader’; it was impossible for all eyes to not be on him. Everyone was drawn to him—at least, that was the excuse you gave yourself as you tried to quickly look away.

As you tried to make it seem like you weren’t swept up in how nice his clothing fit him today.

“What’s with the emergency meeting?” Seokjin wasted no time, speaking before anyone else could even utter a word. You supposed it made sense, Jin was the eldest in the room and, as a result, he was the only one with a backbone strong enough to meet the clan leader eye to eye.

Or you know, piss him off without dying.

“I’ve made my decision.”

Seokjin’s jaw locked and you couldn’t help but look like a lost dog between the two men, their glares bouncing tension thick enough to cut in the air. “On that?”

“Yes.”

You, being you, blurted stupidly. “What topic? What the hell are you talking about?” However, you only received a passing glance as Taehyung looked on with you, seemingly as confused as you were. Hoseok turned to give you a warming smile that didn’t touch his eyes as he lifted his chin to stare back up at his leader.

“Good.” Yoongi muttered from the corner. “It’s about time.”

Seokjin’s eyes darkened, receiving his answer after deciphering Namjoon’s gaze. The elder man’s hands tightened on his biceps. “I think that this is a stupid idea.”

“I didn’t even say what my answer was.” But there was no anger in Namjoon’s voice, no annoyance—just a fact.

They were that close.

Sometimes, they felt closer than you and your damn mate.

I’m not jealous.

Mmhm, sure Y/N, keep telling yourself that like it makes it true.

“But you’re going to tell them.”

Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck to smooth out whatever stress had kinked it as he peered down at you. You hated how pity warmed in the depths of his gaze, as if his words were going to break you later.

If that isn’t some fucking shitty foreshadowing for the doomed-ness of my life then I don’t know what is. Your inner thoughts grumbled before you could get a reign on them.

“Yes.” He murmured. “I’m going to tell the rest of the clan about Y/N.”

Taehyung’s stare flit between you and Namjoon, his eyes growing comically wide.

“How long?” Seokjin sighed. “How long do you think you can fend them off if they choose to rise up?” He raised an eyebrow, nodding to the room. “Sure, we’re all here for you—we’re all here for her—but you do really think seven vampires against an army is a risk you’re willing to take?”

You could feel Namjoon’s gaze on you, expectant. It was as if he expected you to burst out into a fit of fear at any minute now. He seemed poised to grab you and run the second you showed any hint of being afraid of the situation—mainly because not all of the vampires in the room had control over their urges.

However, you didn’t even look up at him and instead moved your piece across the board upon the prompt of the die.

When you realized the entire room was holding its breath for your reaction, you looked up and shrugged. “Yeah I should be scared; maybe if I was the same girl I was six months ago. But I’m not.” You chuckled, lifting your chin to meet Namjoon’s gaze.

You won’t let me die, right? You won’t let anyone torture me—you said so yourself. So what is there to be afraid of?

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Seokjin’s gaze was wild, his own fear causing a knee jerk reaction that had Yoongi’s nose crinkling and Jimin holding down Jungkook before he could feed. “Y/N—“

You held up a hand to stop the speech you could sense coming from a mile away. “Hey, this has to happen eventually, right? How long do you think you are all going to be able to keep me a secret? How long do you think I’m just going to sit here like a locked up pet? The humans already know; why not the vampires too? Honesty’s better anyways—builds more trust or something like that.”

“Not all vampires are as tolerant as we are, Y/N.” Yoongi warned, causing you to shrug more to yourself than to anyone else.

“Kay, and? Any of you planning to side-step out of the way of the next vampire that charges at me?”

“No—of course not,” Taehyung murmured. “But Y/N—“

“Then come what may.” You grinned, hoping to relax the tension in the room—all you got was a strained expression from Taehyung and a scoff from Seokjin. “Hey, I didn’t ask for any of this, okay? But I’m here now and this is the sort of shit I’ve got to do. Deal with it. I’m fine with it; you all need to be too.”

“So that’s it then? The decision is made?” Seokjin growled.

Namjoon looked down towards you, eyebrows raised as you let out a harrumph of distress, handing the die over to Hoseok. “She’s made it. I am easily swayed by her opinion—so if this is what she wants then yes, it’s official.”

You looked up at him out of the corner of your eye.

“I must abide by what my mate decides.” He chuckled, watching with fascination as you ducked your head once more, the barest hint of red lighting up your ears.

~.~

Apparently, this ‘introducing you to the clan’ was more like ‘the king and queen of the fucking world have an announcements for you peasants’ but like, if the king and queen ran a gang.

Okay so a clan wasn’t a gang, but like, close enough.

Namjoon was on this balcony that jutted out over a warehouse floor, leaning over a shoddy railing made of metal and chain link as the entirety of his clan stared up at him.

You knew it was a big clan, like the biggest on the whole continent but holy shit it was big. The warehouse floor was covered wall to wall with bodies and they were all looking up expectantly for whatever big announcement was to come.

You, however, weren’t allowed out on that balcony with Namjoon. Since your fear was far more potent than others and since you had the heart of a jackrabbit you were forced to stand behind a layer of two vampires and watch from the hall. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any fear.

Mostly, you were just awed that there were so many people under the thumb of one man.

Your man.

I’m gonna throw up if you pull that shit one more time, brain.

Namjoon looked over his shoulder at you, raising an eyebrow.

You made a face at him that had him laughing, seemingly causing him to relax.

Was he nervous too?

God, Y/N, how stupid could you be? Of course he was, he was just a hell of a lot better at hiding it than you were. Kim Namjoon looked so damn strong facing this army of a clan. He looked like he belonged there, like he deserved every bit of work and blood that had gone into getting where he was.

And he did.

If there was one thing that you knew about Namjoon, through all of this mess, you knew that he deserved everything he’d achieved.

But, if you squinted, you could see the slight tilt to his shoulders—you could see the way his hands tightened on the railing before him.

If you were stronger, and less afraid of being out in the open in front of a hundred plus vampires, you would have gone out there with him. You would have stood there to try and encourage him as if you actually had the ability to do so. It was so complicated with this man, because you knew you shouldn’t want to encourage the murderer—but while most of you knew the reasons why you were so torn, the stronger part of you adamantly refused them.

You were not and would never be in love with someone incapable of loving you back.

Keep telling yourself that, Y/N.

You knew that stronger part of yourself would eventually tire itself out, and you had to say, you were curious as to what would be the straw that would break it.

But you also didn’t want to find that out either.

Humans are so god damned complicated.

“Alright.” Namjoon’s voice silenced the hum of the crowd below, erasing your thoughts with just a single word. It helped that you could almost sense the fear of those below you, probably because they thought this meeting was held out of anger rather than due to an announcement. Either way, their fear allowed you to leak a bit out of yourself, allowing whatever emitted from you to be swallowed immediately by the two in front of you.

Namjoon straightened.

“Today, I have summoned you all here to inform you of my current situation—seeing as it is out of the ordinary for our kind. Be aware, before I start my message, that I am allowing those who no longer wish to be a part of this clan after today to leave of their own free will. If you choose to do so, after I have finished speaking, no harm will come to you unless you are stupid enough to taunt. May you know that, if you do choose to leave this clan, there will be no mercy shown to you the next time we may meet.”

You could tell that the people below wanted to whisper—they wanted to speak amongst themselves and ask questions that were going to be answered in the next instant. However, they were a well trained clan, hushed by the mere presence of Namjoon. It should have been frightening just how damn powerful the man before you was.

However, you could only imagine him wrapped in a blanket, watching a couple kiss in the rain.

“Don’t humans get sick from this easily? Why on earth are they daring illness for something as trivial as human contact?”

“I have found my mate.” His voice boomed across the crowd.

A chill slipped its icy fingers up your spine.

That was you—he was referencing you.

Yeah, no shit Y/N. Of course it is you.

Still, the millisecond of fame was flattering—though entirely unwanted amongst vampires.

“However,” his voice silenced your inner ramblings, “she is human.”

Once more, the world broke into silence—complete and utter silence as every single person in the room bit their tongue in confusion, in awe, in shock. You were sure that they had things to say, but even in this moment, Namjoon scared them.

And he, giving them every bit of the leader he was, never once pulled his gaze from the crowd. He never ducked his head, he never hid. “You may speak.”

A thousand voices came from the walls, bouncing off one another. You heard bits and pieces, phrases from different people in different places. It was a cacophony of sound, of anger and betrayal—some of acceptance, but not many. Insults were thrown like bombs, and you let each one hit you with the force of a freight truck.

“A pathetic human?”

“Well where is she?”

“So weak she cannot even face us?”

“This is blasphemous!”

“It has to be a lie!”

“Stop joking with us, humans and vampires can never!”

“Where is this bitch?”

You lifted your chin when Seokjin turned over his shoulder to look at you, a small grimace of a smirk on your features. You shrugged.

You could take insults, slurs, threats. You were known to take a lot of things without fear—verbal wars were the only kind of wars you were good at.

The only kind of war you weren’t afraid of.

Now, maybe if you could see their anger on their faces, see the flashes of red in the crowd, you would find it in you to be afraid.

But again, you were a weak pathetic human hiding behind the protection of vampires.

And then you started to hear the verbal shots fired towards Namjoon.

“Pathetic.”

“I can’t believe he became our leader? How long did he know of this?”

“How could we ever follow a man like this?”

“He’s nothing better than those humans.”

“How dare he?”

“He doesn’t deserve to be clan leader.”

It was a slow boil for you, blood rushing in your ears until that very last insult hit too hard for you. Your anger peaked too quick to be able to stop, the rage burning every last trace of fear from your bones as you gathered your hands into fists at your side.

Without thinking and without any warning—at least, without any warning enough that would allow Seokjin and Hoseok to hold you back from the sheer idiocy of what you were about to do—you burst forward out of the hall and into the light.

You made yourself visible, without a shield, without anything other than you and your anger acting as a barrier between a whole fucking warehouse of killers. But you didn’t stop there. No, you rushed the metal railing, almost as if you were going to launch yourself over the damn thing and into the vampire’s nest below. Thankfully, your better judgment kicked in and only allowed you to crash your hips into the chainlink fence next to Namjoon.

“Shut the fuck up!” You shouted, your voice nearly breaking with the force of your rage. “Shut up!”

Namjoon startled by your side, his eyes boring holes through the side of your face and, were you not too enraged to notice, you would have seen how damn angry he was at you for foiling literally everything.

Plan wrecker Y/N, the only thing you were good at besides tripping over your own foot and cursing for no good reason. Wasn’t it plan wrecking that got you into this mess?

“Who are you to decide that? Huh?” You snapped, hands tightening around the metal dangerously, borderline about to pierce the skin of your palms. “Who are you to decide who deservers what? Did you fight tooth and nail to stand here? No? Are you a god or some other bullshit deity? Huh?” You weren’t giving them time to answer, because, if you did, your nerve would go away and be replaced with fear at your own stupidity. “No, you’re not even close to being a clan leader yourself so why don’t you all just shut the fuck up!”

The crowd was quickly decreasing their volume, if only because there was a crazed human daring to taunt them—you liked the phrase ‘put them in their place’ better but it wasn’t really fitting; it was more like an ant crawling across your barefoot in the middle of summer.

“You followed him long before you ever knew of his mate, and now, because there’s suddenly a human involved you think that he’s lost all sense and can’t be trusted? And you dare call him weak because at least he accepted his fucking fate and did something about it. What the hell are you doing? Are you fucking insane? Do you know how stupid you sound right now?”

The gazes from the vampire’s nest below conveyed a whole array of emotions that you didn’t dare decode or pick apart—probably because you knew that the equation didn’t come out to anything good.

You almost came down from your momentary rage right then and there—if it weren’t for the peanut gallery in the back.

“Human bitch, come down here and we’ll see who thinks they’re a god. You can’t be protected forever!”

Namjoon tensed next to you, about a second from tearing the moron a new one. However, before he could even properly react, you were leaning deeper into the metal railing as you shouted loud enough for the metal walls of the room to echo your voice. “I never claimed to be a god, asshole! At least I’m not saying who deserves what because if I had a damn choice I would be down there shoving a clove of garlic down your throat!”

Hoseok, who had approached you in the hopes to at least force you to let up on the chainlink fence, took a huge step back to fold over to the ground with sputtering laughter.

Apparently a couple other vampires in the crowd found you equally as funny, because you could hear mixed chuckles.

“Y/N—“

But you cut Namjoon off, you weren’t done yet. Not by a longshot.

It takes more courage to deal with humans than it does vampires.

“Say whatever the hell you want about me—I’m the new factor here, the new thing you can’t trust. Your leader is the one that hasn’t changed. He’s the one that you should believe in and put your faith in and continue to follow until the end of your days because I am human and that is exactly what I plan on doing!”

Slowly, you settled back into your heels, your eyes scanning the room for any more complaints as if daring someone to say something more. Like you were actually going to be able to do anything.

What would you do? Fear them to death?

As if coming down from a possession, you felt like you shrank to five times your previous height, your eyes widening as you flit your gaze over to Namjoon. His golden eyes never left your face for even a moment, his lips parted with words he couldn’t say. You thought that, if you could read his mind, you would find all those dead words on his tongue just floating around in his brain.

“I...um…yeah.” You nodded to him as if you could actually read his thoughts. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He had a small smile on his face.

You nodded again, this time more to yourself than to him. “Yeah.”

The crowd, after the second half of your speech, broke out into a fresh bout of murmurs—voices rising louder. You couldn’t tell exactly what they were saying, you were too scared to try and discern what was what, who was approving and who wasn’t. You didn’t want to know how many people your existence had caused to leave, you didn’t want to know how much you devastated Namjoon’s efforts simply by being who you were.

And then, you were forced to come face to face with it when the same guy you threatened with garlic you didn’t have, scoffed.

“Are you all really going to let a human’s words affect you like this? Are we now sheep—cattle? Are we now just as weak willed as those we feed from?”

Before another word could leave his lips—before you could retaliate—the world around you erupted into a flash of pure, blinding white. In that moment, you honestly believed that you died. You believed that the compound had been struck by a bomb, the humans had finally hit. This was the end for you. If this was heaven—or hell, you were pretty sure everyone and their grandmother in this life were going to hell (though the last time you said that out loud the heavy Christian population at the Hunter’s Association literally flogged you)—you didn’t care; it was warm.

It was comforting.

When the brightness passed, when your eyes adjusted to the regular florescent lighting, the world was still alive. You were still alive.

And Namjoon was next to you, his eyes dark with anger.

You followed his gaze to the man who had made it his mission to verbally oppose you every second he got, the peanut gallery in the back who was now folded over, clutching the side of his head. Blood seeped through his fingers, dribbling down his arm. Between his pointer and middle finger was a flap of skin hanging on by a thin stretch, the mangled flesh vaguely resembling what used to be an ear.

“What were you saying, Jisung?” Namjoon’s voice was hard, violent in a way that you had yet to hear. You knew of his capabilities, of how deadly the man that named himself your mate could be when pushed or bored. However, hearing and seeing were two different things.

You said nothing, if only because you were unable to find words anymore. The man, Jisung, only grit his teeth and looked up at the pair of you with anger.

Namjoon looked down at him, his gaze piercing in a way that you had never known it could be.

Perhaps that was because you were the lucky one.

Perhaps that was because you were his mate.

“All who wish to leave this clan, you may do so now.” Namjoon’s voice echoed across the room, quieting the murmurs once more.

There was a dreaded pause, a prolonged silence that continued until the door slammed behind Jisung and his crew, until bit by bit, one by one, vampires left. It wasn’t a lot, but maybe you didn’t want to know just how many people you caused to leave the man you knew was more than capable to lead them to the end. Each person that walked through the door was another apology muttered in your mind, each person that stepped away from the clan another reminder that whatever cloud you had been floating on thinking that life would be peachy-keen was dissipating around you.

Without thinking, you slid your hand towards his on the railing, close enough to link your pinkie with his. Sure, vampires didn’t like touches, they didn’t appreciate the feeling of hugs or hand holding—but this was the only thing you knew you could give him without overloading him.

As if on instinct, his pinkie curled around yours as he peered at you out of the corner of his eyes.

You gave him the smallest of smiles.

To ruin the moment, if only because they could and if only because it was in their archetype to do so, Hoseok and Seokjin came on either side of the two of you, leaning on the railing to assess the crowd.

“It’s a lot more than I thought would stay, I’ll give you that.” Seokjin chuckled.

“A hell of a lot more.” Hoseok murmured. “But you know, Y/N had a point and vampires respect fearlessness.”

You turned to make a face at him around Namjoon. “Since when have I ever been fearless?”

Namjoon’s hand never moved to pull away from yours—despite the fact that your pinkies were still intertwined together. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day, but you were fearless back there.”

For me.

The unspoken words hung above your head, as if you were both thinking them but not saying them aloud. You didn’t know how, but for a moment, you almost heard the phrase in his own voice—as if you were gaining access to his mind for the first time. You doubted it, but the fact that you knew it was a thought running through his head was telling enough to have you ducking your head to hide your blush.

~.~

The announcement to the clan had allowed you more freedom—well, slightly at least. If you were to go anywhere besides your original level, you were required to have one of the seven with you.

Well, one of the six; Jungkook, despite your positive relationship, still wasn’t trusted to be alone with you—he wasn’t known for his control.

So, it was Seokjin who walked down with you when you decided that you wanted to meet a few of the clanspeople who chose to stay. Namjoon, who insisted otherwise, wanted no part in you risking your life. So, instead, he watched from above on that same railing, his eyes never leaving your form for a moment.

He probably let you go if only because Seokjin was allowed to cherry pick the people that you got to meet.

The first person you were brought to, under the guard of Seokjin and Hoseok, was a clanswoman who was murmuring to a group. She was thin, tall with these sparkling eyes that only intensified when she turned to face you. You couldn’t help the spark of fear nonetheless; however, she seemed to drink it in without reaction. Her eyes flashed red for only a moment before it was blinked away and replaced with a warm brown.

“I’m Jiwoo.” She smiled at you, taking your hand to shake it before Seokjin could even properly introduce you to her. You stared at the point where her skin met yours in baffled confusion. “This is a human greeting, right?” She tilted her head in concern, furrowing her brow on you. “Am I doing this wrong?”

You shook your head, which only seemed to make her smile bigger.

“Y/N, Jiwoo here is Yoongi’s mate. Jiwoo, this is the source of your missing clothes.”

“Ah! I was wondering why he kept thinking he was so sneaky taking things out of my closet! I’m happy they’re finding a good home!”

You, however, were dumbstruck, staring up at the side of Seokjin’s face like he just spoke gibberish. The two couldn’t possibly be more different from one another—but you supposed that you weren’t one to talk when it came to mates. Still, imagining the frowning Yoongi holding hands with the girl who seemed to enjoy contact and smiles was beyond your realm of capability.

“I—“

Her grasp tightened on yours, until she was holding your one hand in both of hers. “Do the boys take care of you okay? They’re all quite hopeless when it comes to the opposite gender.” Her eyes flit between you and Seokjin, worry creasing her brows.

“They do.”

She smiled.

“Why are you holding onto her, Jiwoo?” Seokjin raised an eyebrow. “That isn’t natural.”

“Mm. She’s soft, I like it.” She chuckled. “I like her. “ She grinned in the most adorable way and, for a moment, you honestly contemplated your sexuality. “I mean, I liked her already just knowing that she was our leader’s mate, but I found her endearing up there—I’ve never seen a human so protectively brave before.”

“I’m…I’m really not brave.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “Bravery isn’t measured by quantity, Y/N, only quality.” She winked at you, turning to peer over her shoulder. “I’ll have to see if the boys will allow me to visit with you some more, for now, I have a very grumpy mate somewhere in this room that is trying to find me.”

“I’d like that.”

Her smile only grew as she squeezed your hand once more before letting go entirely. “I’ll see you around.” And then, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

You were glad that Seokjin introduced you to Jiwoo first, since she seemed to pave the way for the rest of them—making vampires as a whole become significantly less scary. If there was one vampire with sparkling eyes who appreciated contact, then could they really be terrible creatures?

However, despite how many kind ones you met, how many gruff ones, how many strange ones, how many quiet ones Seokjin facilitated your interactions with, they were all quickly blurring together. You couldn’t remember which one was which; after Jiwoo, the names were gone from your brain, replaced with faces you could only vaguely make out.

Seokjin, angel he was, tried to point out which would be safe for you to go to if need be and which ones you were not allowed to be alone with, but your mind was on the brink of overloading.

“Hyung.” Hoseok murmured when you nearly went cross-eyed and collapsed. “I think she’s reached her limit for today.”

You nodded, looking up at the boy in a way that had him laughing. Seokjin only chuckled when that puppy dog stare of yours shifted over to him.

“Okay okay, no more. But before I take you to bed I have to make sure you’re fed first—Namjoon will kill me if he hears your stomach growling again.”

Feverently nodding, you let Seokjin lead you away from the warehouse floor. Despite yourself, you snuck a glance up towards the railing only to find that Namjoon had already disappeared down the hall.

~.~

You, being you, had carelessly thrown open the door to the bedroom after eating, surprised to find that you weren’t alone. Yes, you supposed your mate would search you out to check on you; however, it seemed that said mate was passed out spread eagle on the bed before you.

Quietly, you muttered a soft. “Namjoon?”

He didn’t respond, rather, he seemed more dead than alive—if it weren’t for the telltale rise and fall of his chest and the gentle snores.

Gingerly closing the door behind you, you padded deeper into the room.

He was probably tired, you noted as you studied his face. It was difficult to sleep in an area you weren’t used to, why should vampires be any different? Since he had holed his ass up in some damn torture dungeon for the sake of your comfort and fear, you felt some sort of responsibility for this exhaustion of his.

Logically speaking, it shouldn’t be entirely your fault—he was a clan leader, he made his own choices, blahblahblah…

However, you weren’t a being built on logic. Instead, the raw emotion tightened something in your chest as he slept.

He was asleep, so it was fine. It was fine. If he couldn’t see, then it was fine to give in to yourself just a little bit.

Just a bit.

It was fine.

Keep repeating that to yourself, Y/N like it makes you any less creepy.

One toe in the waters before you ultimately jumped in—unless your denial was stronger (it wasn’t).

Brow furrowed, you tiptoed your way towards the bed, extra careful so as not to wake him. It seemed he didn’t wake easily, but you weren’t about to take that risk. Very carefully, with the smallest of movements, you inched your way up onto the bed, forcing yourself to the very edge—to the point that you were nearly falling off the bed in an attempt to not interfere with his space.

This was a better position to watch him, like a stalker, but ya know. When else would you get this chance? For once, you could look at the man who saved you without feeling shame or that surge of denial that turned your face red and had you looking away. For once, you could truly see the person who took you from the human world and brought you into his own.

You had to admit, he was handsome. Maybe it was because that pull of fate was so damn strong, but you couldn’t help but find the way his eyelashes hit his cheek adorable, the way his dimples dented his cheeks when he smiled or got excited. You couldn’t stop picturing those gold eyes as they looked at you with curiosity, sadness, happiness, amusement…

Something else?

You found yourself wanting to reach out and touch him—you wanted to hold his hand, you wanted to have that contact that was the line in the sand between you. You stopped yourself if only because you didn’t want him to wake up. You didn’t want him to see you wanting to be close to him.

Instead, you stared at the curve of his lips, laughing at the small bubble of a snore that came out more gurgle than anything else. So maybe this man wasn’t as handsome when he was asleep—but did anyone? You were sure the sight of you drooling on your pillow with one hand buried in your rat’s nest of bed-head was anything but model status.

Your gaze drifted to his shoulders, as if you could remember him folding you over them to bring you inside, to set you against the wheel of a tire. But it wasn’t ever his shoulders you remembered.

Your eyes drooped.

He still had the same smile though.

When did he smile at you before? Somehow, you imagined that he had when he left you at the drop off point—when he first met you, as if he knew he’d see you again.

~.~

You only realized you had fallen asleep when you opened your eyes.

Namjoon’s gaze immediately bored into yours, his stare probably just as intense had yours had been when you watched him sleep moments (moments? Try hours) before. He seemed to watch every miniscule movement with interest, startling your freshly woken self.

When you tried to back away out of embarrassment, you found that his hand was over your outstretched one. Stupidly, you must had tried reaching out for him in your sleep—funny how, even though you didn’t remember what you were dreaming about, it was the best sleep you’d ever had.

“I—I’m—I’m sorry!” You hissed, trying to yank your hand out from under his.

His fingers tightened, refusing to let you go in favor of staring at the point where his skin met yours. “Don’t be.”

You were lucky that you were slow on the uptake when you were first woken up; otherwise you were sure your face would have been the color of lobsters.

“I…I thought vampires were supposed to have colder skin.” You mused.

Smart. Good distraction Y/N. Couldn’t come up with anything better? Why do humans only talk about temperature when they have nothing else to say? Nice weather today? Ah pretty hot outside isn’t it? Funny how past preconceptions of vampires make my species as a whole stereotype you incorrectly, right?

He only chuckled. “Well, you feel warmer to the touch than I do—but I suppose we are warmer than you think because, while our circulatory system works at half speed, it doesn’t affect our internal temperature.”

You pursed your lips, following his gaze to your hands as nearly all of his words flew right over your head. With nothing better to say, you cut to the chase.

“Why?”

“Hm?” He cocked his head as best he could while lying down.

“Why are you holding my hand? I—I was—I was being a creep.” You whispered. “I don’t deserve hand holding.”

“Is this not what human pairings do? Hold each other’s hands? Admire each other?”

“Since when are we a…’pairing’?”

He raised one eyebrow, giving you that shit eating grin he had when he knew he caught you red handed. “You have no room to complain about personal space, miss ‘creep’.”

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks, and in an attempt to save some face you tried to duck your head out of Namjoon’s sight. However, his nails digging into the skin of your palm stopped you from fully doing so. He drank in the rare moment, scanning every bit of your reddened face. “Is this why you always hide from me when you experience chagrin?”

“It makes it worse!” You hissed, wanting to raise your voice but not finding the energy to do so.

His lips twitched. “I like it.”He murmured softly, his eyes flitting across your face as if he could memorize this moment and be able print a physical copy of it from his brain. “Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Make your cheeks warm with color.”

“I—“ But you were weak, you were easily afraid, easily talked into things, easily convinced, and fuck, you were easily embarrassed. Your body obeyed his command.

He hissed in air through his teeth. “Why do I enjoy that?”

You laughed, unintentionally leaning closer to him. “Perhaps you are more human than I thought.”

“Mm.” He grunted, eyes never breaking from you. “Perhaps.”

152 notes · View notes

justaramblingromantic · 6 years

Text

superheroes need childcare benefits too

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou, Tsukasa Eishi, Tsukasa Hi’en (OC)/EiRin

Type: Superhero!Family!AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 3071

A/N: Inspired by this post.

This drabble has been sitting in my draft pile for a couple of months already, I think? I was fooling around with the random super power generator and decided to write out something with the results I got, just for fun. Was also in the mood to write cute baby things...so there was that, too, lol.

The thing about being a superhero was that the benefits suck.

There were no such thing as paid leave or annual bonuses and the nature of the work was akin to voluntary military service to the country so it wasn’t exactly very high paying in the first place, either. In fact, it was something like an anonymous, part time obligation to society on top of juggling a ‘normal’ day job and whatever life issues and familial commitments the ‘normal’ population had to deal with…only maybe with a bit more explosions and dangerous, life-threatening events randomly thrown into the mix.

You get to meet all sorts of interesting people with interesting abilities too, and then, depending on their intentions and alignments, you try your hardest to incapacitate, or outright kill, each other. Fun times.

Rindou quite enjoyed it, actually. The thrill of living a secret double life. The excitement and unpredictability that came with every mission. And who would not enjoy being a superhero? Her partner was something amazing too, and they worked together seamlessly. Their abilities complemented each other extremely well, and after all the years of being paired together, their teamwork was one of the best in the country, for their rank and specialty type, even.

That was just as well, since they were partners in every meaning of the word. They had known each other from a young age and had only grown closer over the years, from teammates to best friends to lovers.

Recently, they had also become parents. And with parenthood, came responsibilities that both were suddenly acutely conscious of, towards the tiny young life that they had made together. Being reckless for the sake of having fun was no longer acceptable. They had to be more careful during assignments now, and for the moment at least, they had also agreed that both should not be going on call at the same time – one would remain at home on baby watch while the other was out performing their civic duty.

“Rindou.” Eishi’s calm, smooth voice spoke over the comm earpiece that she was wearing. “Are you heading home soon?”

“Mm,” she replied distractedly, concentrating on focusing her powers and directing them to work as she intended. Her abilities had always been a bit on the wild side and not very easy to control, and she constantly had to work on them so that they would not get the better of her.

It was a simple rescue mission this time. There was a serious collision between two freight vessels off the shores of Tokyo, just sitting on one of the major shipping routes. She had been activated by the agency because her powers were probably the most useful to deal with an incident of this scale involving huge mobile constructs. The crews of both vessels had already been evacuated and airlifted out of the scene so now it was her turn to flex her muscles and get down to business.

“Can you swing by the store for some milk and eggs on the way back? We ran out.”

“’Kay~” Slit gold eyes grew unnaturally bright as she concentrated, willing all her energy into intense mental focus. Visualizing the bright, glowing rope of power in her mind’s eye, she proceeded to grab firmly onto it and give it a mighty heave.

Just like that, the atmospheric pressure dropped, and the energy around her shifted.

Hovering midair over the vast ocean, a mere fifty feet above where the partially submerged cargo ships were rapidly taking in water and about to sink right in the middle of the high sea traffic zone, the redhead watched musingly as a couple hundred thousand tonnage of steel and freight creaked and groaned ominously as the absolute laws of physics were exerted on them…in an entirely unnatural way.

“Is there anything else that you want me to pick up, dear husband?” she asked cheerfully. She was in a good mood today, and for obvious reasons. The sun was shining overhead, the weather was great. All in all, it was a really nice day to be out and about, even if she had to help haul back to the bay two huge ass ships.

There was a pause, and then her significant other remarked. “You’re just really happy to be finally out of the house, aren’t you?”

Before Rindou could respond, a loud, unintelligible squawk transmitted through the earpiece, followed by what sounded like awkward, unsteady flapping. Both parents winced at the ringing, pitched cry.

“Is that En-chan? What’s he doin’? He sounds energetic.”

“Our son is sitting on my shoulder.” Was Eishi’s reply. “I think he’s screaming for you.”

She could not help but grin at the mental imagery of her somewhat ruffled mate having to stay at home wrestling with their quirky and unruly offspring. The baby was barely six months old but the rapid manifestation of his unique abilities meant that his parents never quite knew what to expect next when it came to him. Regardless, Rindou still thought that her son was the best thing since sliced bread. Eishi more or less rolled with the lofty opinion because he largely felt the same way ever since they handed him the squalling newborn straight out of the delivery suite.

“Geeze, he’s probably just hungry again. Feed him well, Tsukasa~!”

The semi-submerged vessels were no longer sinking. If anything, they were expelling water at an incredible, exponential rate, and starting to recover miraculously from their previous, badly listing conditions. Rindou kept a halfhearted eye on the ships, but her attention was caught more by the slight commotion coming from the other end of the line.

Eishi muttered. “He doesn’t want his bottle. I don’t think he’s even interested in milk right now.”

More indignant chirruping and belligerent rustling could be heard from the other end of the line. The older of the two also seemed to be having quite a time of it pacifying the younger one. “En, settle down. I know you hear her voice, but your mother’s not here.”

There was a querying, unhappy cry of what sounded like a young eaglet. By then, Rindou could not contain her curiosity any longer. Her son had been a normal human baby (a super cute, chubby cheeked one) when she had left the house, but apparently that was no longer the case. She would have been more worried as a mother if not for the fact that this peculiar occurrence happened too often for her to be alarmed anymore. In their household, this type of situation was only normal, when one’s offspring possessed the rare ability to randomly shapeshift.

“Eh? What did En-chan become this time? How come all the interesting things happen only when you’re home alone with him? That’s hardly fair at all!”

There was a brief pause as her husband struggled not to share his actual thoughts on the matter, which more or less amounted to how he would rather have preferred not to have anything interesting happen at all when he was left in charge of watching their only child. Because Hi’en was still very, very young and had no control whatsoever over his powers, the infant often randomly shifted into supernatural creatures that had only been heard of and read about in myths and legends. The first time it happened, the boy was only a couple of months old when he abruptly turned into a phoenix chick, and when the panicked parents found the young creature floundering about in their son’s cot, they had initially thought that someone had stolen their precious offspring only to replace it with this strange looking…scraggly, angry baby bird of unidentified origins…and that which could also random burst into fire.

The problem with their child being able to shapeshift into random mythical creatures was that when he was in those forms, feeding and caring for his needs became a unique challenge. Sometimes Hi’en would stay in one creature form for an hour at most before popping back to his sleepy human baby self, other times, he stuck with whatever form he was most comfortable with for days on end and that was when his parents abruptly realized that (mythical) animal husbandry had also became an important prerequisite when it came to parenthood. This time was no different.

Eishi observed his awkwardly flailing son, all wings, talons, feathers…paws, claws and tail. The wings on the back were still small and not yet fully developed, the feathers all fluffy brownish-bronze baby down and not even molting anytime soon. The body was that of a very young lion cub; soft russet gold fur still speckled with camouflaging spots and clumsy, tapering tail fat and stubby from infancy. The front limbs ended in raptorial, razor talons and the back limbs in feline paws and equally sharp pinprick claws. A fuzzy, aquiline face with beady golden eyes and a sharp hooked beak paid rapt attention to his male parent, who was squinting at the youngster just as discerningly.

Hi’en let loose a series of demanding chirrups and clumsily headbutted his father for attention. Eishi plucked the youngling who had insisted on climbing precariously onto his shoulder when he heard his mother’s voice earlier and cradled his cat-sized child against his chest, barely even flinching when the baby dug his tiny claws into his forearms for stability. The white-haired man balanced the cellphone between his ear and shoulder, distractedly replying Rindou even as he padded into the kitchen with the fussing cub in tow.

“I think he turned into a griffin this time.”

“…Huh. What do those eat?”

That was a very good question, and one which the young parents found themselves asking almost every other week these days.

In the background, the massive constructs that were the damaged shipping vessels were now floating lightly on the shimmering ocean surface, delicate as a pair of drifting feathers. Thanks to her abilities to manipulate gravity and air, sending the ships back to the shipyard for repair would be a breeze. Pun intended.

“Think the packet of raw chicken sitting in the freezer will work?” Rindou asked as she started to gather and shape the climate to obey her will. Her gaze turned upwards, watching the gigantic nimbuses roll in and dim the skies overhead. The barometric pressure quickly dropped further, and the ambient wind speed started to pick up. The previously calm, tranquil waters became more restless, choppy, though not turbulent enough to send the ships back down to the bottom of the ocean. Rindou exerted her will and steadily pushed.

The two vessels slowly started to move, the howling gale and reduced inertia enough to set them both limping in the direction of port. Rindou trailed her responsibilities closely, making sure that they would reach their destination with no unforeseen accidents along the way.

Back home, Eishi obligingly popped open the door of the freezer compartment and pulled out the cellophane wrapped tray of chicken. He presented it to Hi’en, who nudged at the Styrofoam curiously with his beak before recoiling from it with disdain.

“No?” he asked the little griffin. His son peered at him briefly with his slit gold eyes before deciding that his father’s shirt buttons were much more interesting. He started to peck at one of them, trying to pry it off.

“I’ll defrost and cut the meat into smaller strips to see if he wants it,” Eishi spoke into the phone, shutting the freezer door and setting the packet of chicken on the counter to thaw. “I think we should find that anthropology professor at the university again and seek his opinion, just in case.”

Rindou grimaced at the thought of meeting the suspicious, twitchy man once more. She was pretty sure that the man was starting to suspect that something weird was going on with the overly insistent couple who kept asking him overly specific questions regarding the diets and behavioral patterns of legendary creatures that should not exist.

“Alright, if you feel that’s gonna help.” An excellent idea struck her. “Maybe En-chan would want fresh seafood instead. I can rustle up a waterspout and bring some catch of the day home!”

“…Please don’t do that.” Eishi was quick to shoot down the idea before his mate could run wild with it. The last time she did something similar in a misguided attempt at domesticity while harboring delusions of a homemade dinner, it rained fish intermittently over the city for an entire day. “The agency frowns upon that sort of power misuse and we don’t have enough fridge space.”

Rindou grumbled. What use were her powers even if she couldn’t apply them for little things like that?

“Come home soon,” Eishi continued. Their child lifted his head from where he had been gnawing at his father’s shirt and chimed in with an accompanying series of inquisitive peeps and chirps. “We’re looking forward to your safe return.”

Despite her disgruntlement, Rindou’s cheeks warmed happily. “Then I shall, since you asked so nicely.”

When two beings with the recessive mutated genome that gave them unique abilities produce an offspring, it is virtually guaranteed that their progeny would inherit the same metamorphosed DNA sequence as well. However, just because that peculiar gene had been passed down from parents to child did not mean that the latter would end up with the same type of ultra-abilities that either parental units had. As such, having children when one possessed superpowers was very much like entering a lucky draw.

There is an implicit understanding that there will be a special prize, but what it is exactly or how useful it will be is something entirely up in the air until the child’s powers finally chooses to establish themselves.

Even before the birth of their son, Eishi and Rindou had already decided on his name out of two reasons.

The first was for bond. Both parents were distinct air types and spent so much of their time in the skies that they might as well have been born birds themselves. They had flown together, fought together, courted, loved. Their mutual joy, their steadfast devotion to each other… Hi’en was the precious culmination of all this happiness.

The second was for blessing. It was the parents’ sincerest wish for their firstborn that he would always be able to fly as far and as freely as he wanted to, just like a brave and lithe swallow, unfazed and unhindered by all the challenges that he would ever meet in life.

When Hi’en’s powers initially manifested in an unexpected way that turned him into a firebird, his parents wondered if they had perhaps named him a bit too aptly. Even though the kanji ‘Hi’ in his name translated to ‘flight,’ it also shared the same pronunciation for the kanji that denoted ‘fire.’

Regardless of the fact that their child’s abilities bore no similarities whatsoever with theirs, his parents remained endlessly delighted and fascinated with their strange little chick. All of his little milestones and progresses Eishi noted down meticulously and Rindou cheered for with pride and glee. Hi’en was developing physically and mentally faster than the average infant, though in all likelihood it was because he was switching forms so often. However, all that growing was exhausting for the young baby, and so he ate a lot, and then he slept a lot.

When Rindou returned that evening, it was to a quiet apartment with the lights dimmed. There was a flickering glow emanating from the living room, and when she exchanged her shoes for indoor ones at the genkan and went down the hallway, she discovered that the source of light was from the television, the volume muted so that only the images were playing across the screen. Eishi was sprawled out in the middle of the couch strewn all over with toys, his eyes closed, faintly, halfheartedly humming a lulling song. Curled against his chest was a little ball of fur and feathers, and the little thing must have tuckered himself out after running his father ragged all day, for he barely stirred even when his female parent approached and sank onto the adjacent cushions.

Eishi cracked opened one eye, sleepy lavender meeting quietly amused gold.

“…Okaeri,” he greeted his mate softly. He wasn’t exactly his usual neat, immaculate self. It appeared that even possessing the ability of accelerated thought process was no match to counter the sheer unpredictability of a small but determined infant. Eishi’s hair looked like he had run his hands through it several times that evening alone, his shirt was missing some buttons and partially untucked, and there were unidentifiable stains on his jeans and also on his collar. She thought that he looked manly and attractive all the same, exuding responsible daddy vibes, very irresistible.

“Tadaima,” she mouthed back. Her hand came up, fingers brushing over his crown, trying to help arrange the unrulier locks into some semblance of order. “Looks like you had a nice time with En-chan,” she drawled innocuously, trying not to grin at his visibly disheveled expression. She petted his hair affectionately, at the same time leaning in to brush her lips against his jaw. “You’ve worked hard today, papa~”

He silently tilted his head against hers, his arms already occupied cradling their child. Rindou’s gaze lowered onto where Hi’en was quietly sleeping. His fuzzy little face was barely visible, tucked under one downy front limb as he continued to doze, his little torso gently rising and falling with the cadence of his deep, steady breathing. Just looking at her son made her very happy, regardless of what form he chose to take. He was safe and protected, he was perfectly healthy, and he was growing up well. That was all that mattered.

“…Ah. I forgot the milk and eggs.”

Eishi’s eyes had closed again, and he leaned just a little more into her before she could move away.

“Let’s do that tomorrow… Stay.”

…So maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt a bit lonely now that they wouldn’t be able to take missions together, at least not in the immediate future.

She snuggled down beside him, this boy she loved first long before he gave her another to dote on and adore. Their family might be small and there were also times when it felt like they had no idea what they were doing, but to her, this was perfect.

“’Kay.”

Eishi: Accelerated Thought Process, Mid-Air Combat

Rindou: Gravity Manipulation, Primordial Air Manipulation

Hi’en: Mythical Bestiary, Electric-Fire Manipulation

Chouko: Faithifery, Existence Sense

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Tsukasa Eishi #Kobayashi Rindou #EiRin #Shokugeki no Soma #my fics #freestyle #EiRin: Superhero AU

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