#around you as this occurs the lights are flickering and shutting off with loud noises. finally the screen shuts off on catherine. and you S | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jimlingss · 4 years

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Kitchen Romance

➜ Words: 11.1k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Chef!AU

➜ Summary: You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors' ancestors were matchmakers and it's all because of a special, inborn gift. A gift that allows you to see each person's fated ones above their heads. But it's not so much a gift when one day, your boss walks in with YOU above him.

cr.

The kitchen is in chaos.

The heat swelters in the still air, stifling with the summer warmth that’s forced most people indoors with air conditioning. But here, there’s no such privilege. Not when open fires on frying pans were at every stovetop and grease was splattering everyone like a water fountain show. You feel yourself being roasted alive, a layer of oil sitting on top of your skin, and there’s barely a moment to wipe away the sweat rolling from your hairline. Your hands are wrinkled as you scrub down the nth dish from the pile that’s stacked above your head, but before you can finish, Taehyung’s desperately calling out for you. You shout back at him that you’re coming and then you’re helping him peel the potatoes. There’s no room to complain. Especially not when— “What is this?!” For a moment, time itself stops. The pandemonium halts, fire flickering, knives held mid-air. Everyone’s head has swiveled over to the dark-haired man standing at the end of the island. Kim Seokjin holds up a plate of baked salmon with methi prawns. His plump lips are pulled downwards. That’s never a good sign. “The presentation is sloppy!” he yells and you flinch from the sheer volume of his booming voice. “Are you people blind?! We can’t serve this! It’s an embarrassment! Do it again!” “Yes, chef!” Everyone apologizes, including you, and Seokjin huffs, moving out of the kitchen. Namjoon, sous-chef, shakes his head. “Focus! Dinner service hasn't even begun yet!” Luckily, everyone’s on edge and meticulous enough with Seokjin walking around and scrutinizing every action that the rest of the night goes off without another hitch. By the end, you’re finishing up on cleaning and washing the dishes. “Good night, Y/N.” Jihyo waves, bag strap slung on her shoulder. “See you.” You muster a smile while you keep scrubbing. “Bye.” “Night,” Yoongi says while Taehyung fixes you a grin. You watch them leave and then focus on completing the rest of your tasks. It’s not long before you’re switching all the lights off and changing from your uniform. The walk back to your apartment proves to be excruciating. You’re beyond exhausted, lugging your legs along to carry the rest of your body while forcing your eyes to remain open, so you can at least see where you’re going. When the door opens, you immediately jump into the shower to wash off the grime, nearly falling asleep in the process. By the time you flop onto your bed, your hair is still dripping wet, but as your muscles ease into the mattress, you’re knocked out into a deep slumber. Rest is merely a blink of time. The alarm on your phone is blaring before you can dream or feel even remotely refreshed. It’s deafening to your ears and you reach over to shut it off. Finding the sun already up in the sky, you force yourself to sit up, get ready, grab breakfast and eat on your way to work. “If it’s too hard, you should come home,” the voice on the other side of the line coaxes. “Your dad and I are so worried about you sometimes.” “I’m fine, mom.” You’re chewing in your cheek, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder as you parade down the block. “Trust me.” “Have you at least been eating well?” You glance at the granola bar in hand. “Yeah. Sort of.” “The city is scary. There’s no shame in coming home, dear. Your grandma misses you a lot. She always asks about you.” “I’m fine, mom,” you reassure her for the second time. “I really am. And tell grandma—” Accidentally, your shoulder collides with a businessman’s. Apologies spring from you, but rather than looking at the stranger like you should be, your eyes unintentionally wander above his head. To the cloud of fog. And a woman’s smiling face you see emerge from it. The man’s brows lift at how you’re staring into space and he moves out of the way. You’re forced out of your trance and you continue to apologize until he’s completely gone from sight. You damn yourself for not being more careful. You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors’ ancestors were matchmakers. Your mother once told you that back in the day, some peasants in your family couldn’t sew, sell or do any labour, so they begged heavens and out of pity, they were granted a small gift. A gift that’s been passed down to every generation since. While you’re not sure if the story is true or not, what’s certain is that from the moment you were born, you could see a cloud of fog above everyone’s head. It’s like speech bubbles or thought bubbles in comic strips. But instead of words, the fog comes with another person’s face. It’s the one who they’re meant to be with. Ironically enough, you’ve never seen one above your own head. Though you’ve come to accept that. Romance will never be a major aspect of your life, so you’ve switched gears into focusing on your career and finding fulfillment elsewhere. You also knew early on that you didn’t want to be a matchmaker like the rest of your family. You want to be a— “Good morning, chef.” “Good morning.” Namjoon nods with a smile. “Things weren’t too bad yesterday, but let’s try to be less sloppy for dinner service tonight. Hoseok, what time is the shipment of seafood coming in?” Namjoon continues going through the daily routine, updating each person on the schedule and the shipments. But it’s not long during the morning meeting in the kitchen that the back door creaking can be heard. Instantly, everything comes to a halt. Everyone turns themselves and greets the head chef simultaneously. Seokjin rounds the corner. “We have a lot to do today, people. Tonight’s special is going to be watermelon with smoked salmon mousse—” You gasp. Automatically, your hands lift to cover your mouth, yet too late to muffle the loud noise. Your eyes are as large as saucers. Your heart stutters in your chest, nearly giving out. Instead of the polished brunette woman above Seokjin’s head that was always there, you see someone else. Someone very familiar that you’ve seen in the mirror a thousand times. You. You’re frozen — palms clammy, knees weak. And everyone’s turned around to stare, even Kim Seokjin himself. His brow is cocked and he eyes you intensely for daring to interrupt him. “Are you okay?” Jihyo whispers, leaning in and nudging you with her elbow. You start to breathe again, frantically. Yet no matter how much you gasp for air, you can’t feel the oxygen entering your lungs. But you force yourself to bow your head anyway, retaining an exterior that’s not oozing of sheer panic. “S-S-Sor..ry. I…. have something in my throat.” You clear it and Seokjin sighs, continuing with what he was saying. The first task is to wash the salad and it’s easy enough, but your eyes continue to wander up to the dark-haired, doe-eyed man from across the kitchen. Black shirt with a white apron around his waist, he emanates intimidation from his god-like looks alone and constant frown. Your eyes connect and you instantaneously whip yourself around. You start to sweat when Seokjin beelines to you. “Do you have an issue with me?” You shake your head furiously. “Then focus!” the man spits. “You’re drowning the salad!” You wince as he slams the faucet down. This can’t be. This can’t be it. It doesn’t make sense whatsoever. On your break, you’re crouched over by the bathrooms and much to your dismay, your mom is hysterically laughing at you. “Just because you never saw your match, doesn’t mean you’re alone, Y/N! Poor soul, where did you ever get that idea from? No one can see their own. I didn’t and neither did your aunt or grandma.” “Why didn’t you tell me that?” The syllables hiss out of you and you spare a glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s coming. You’ve come to accept that you would never be romantically involved with anyone. To find out that Seokjin, your boss, is your match out of everyone, it’s taking you for a hysteric spin. “I thought you already knew!” she exclaims on the other line. “Plus, nothing comes from knowing your own. But who is it? Are you going to bring them home? I would love to know what sort of person is going to end up with my dear daughter. Oh, your grandma will be so excited to hear the news!” “Now’s not the time, mom,” you grieve, palm pressed to your forehead. There’s an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m never going to end up with him.” “You can’t change fate, Y/N.” “Fate changes all the time.” “Are you okay?” There’s a lower voice behind you and you flinch, turning around to see Hoseok’s alarmed expression. You stand up, apologizing internally as you hang up on your mom. “Sorry. It...was a family emergency. But everything’s fine.” “Okay. Well, Namjoon wants you to grab some more flour from the storage room.” “I’ll be right on it.” You swiftly return back to work before you risk losing your job any more than you have today. But all the while, you damn yourself. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened. You ending up with Kim Seokjin, the scary boss that notoriously fires people in your position, is the last thing you wanted to occur. It’s like you’re living in a nightmare where you’re the only one who’s aware of your own dire circumstances and inevitable doom. // “Would it be that bad if he fell in love with you?” Hyoyeon eyes you lazily from across the table as she stirs her drink with her straw. She’s one of your oldest friends who happen to live in the city and one of the few who knows about your gift. “Yes. It would be that bad!” You’re exasperated. You thought she would be up and arms about it like you are. “How could I ever look at my boss like that?!” “You never know,” Hyoyeon sing-songs much to your chagrin. “Don’t give me that. How would you like it if your boss fell in love with you?” “My boss is a Karen going into her sixties.” “Exactly.” Her lips pop off her straw, wearing a visage of distaste. “This and that aren’t the same, Y/N. I didn’t think Soobin would be with me and when you told me, I was mad. But look at us now! He’s not half bad.” “You’re married.” “Precisely.” She laughs, practically glowing from happiness. “And you know, Seokjin isn’t bad either. He’s like what? Only a few years older than you. Ambitious. Wealthy. Handsome. He did that one photoshoot for that magazine and he was so goddamn handsome. Like holy fuck, I almost got pregnant from just—” “Alright. I get it.” “—and he’s like one of the top chefs of the country. Imagine having that kind of food for the rest of your life.” “That’s not going to happen,” you mumble. If it changed once, it can change again. The more you think about it, the more assured you become. You’ll do everything in your power to change it. // The kitchen has fallen into a lull. Jihyo, the pantry chef, works on tossing salads while the butcher chef, Yoongi, is filleting fresh tuna. Sauté chef Hoseok is preparing his piccata sauce while you help Taehyung, the entremetier, with ingredients for the soup. Everyone has their designated roles here, most of which are fancier than yours. As a kitchen assistant, if you aren’t helping Taehyung then you’re washing dishes. But everyone needed to start from somewhere, so you aren’t going to complain. Working for Kim Seokjin is a privilege, albeit, he’s fearsome and hard to please. You clear your throat. “Has...anyone seen that woman lately?” Taehyung turns his head. “Who?” “That woman came to the restaurant a few times and was with Chef Kim....” A petite and dainty physique. Long, dark hair. Her eyes glimmered in the light and her pinked lips pulled softly when she greeted you all. She was poised, oozed of grace, sophistication, money. And she was the one who you saw above Seokjin’s head since you met him. Hell, you saw him above her head, and while you were surprised that in spite of his scariness, he actually had someone, they strangely suited each other well. They were supposed to be together. Until recently. You wonder what happened. What the change was. Why you’re suddenly his match now. Jihyo turns around, ears perked from the conversation. “Right! I haven’t seen her around lately either! I wondered if something happened.” “You mean Kim Jisoo?” Yoongi lolls his head to the side and when Taehyung gives a curious expression as to how he knows, he says, “Hoseok and I were sent to her flower shop to pick up an order once.” “Were they even dating?” Taehyung asks, looking up from where he’s chopping cucumbers. “They were,” Namjoon pipes up and you look towards him, having expected him to shut down the conversation around the head chef, but he merely smiles. “But I haven’t seen her recently either.” Jihyo hums. “I wonder if something happened.” “Maybe they broke up,” Yoongi offers absentmindedly. “Well, that wouldn’t be surprising.” Taehyung pauses and looks over to you, lifting a brow as if trying to find an ally. “He seems like he can be pretty hard to get along with.” But the opinion isn’t unpopular and there are several snickers throughout the kitchen. “Seokjin’s just serious about his work,” Hoseok says with a smile. “But they were pretty serious.” “Really?” You turn to Namjoon directly. It’s not often that you’d be so straightforward, but you want answers. You want explanations. “Did he ever say anything to you? On what could’ve happened?” He shakes his head and then there’s a loud boom of the backdoor. Your blood runs cold. Everyone’s eyes widen, but there’s no time to react or to take back what he could’ve heard. Seokjin walks in with his eyes narrowed in on you specifically. “If all of you have enough time to talk about my personal life, then you can work twice as hard and twice as fast tonight.” Everyone holds in their sighs. With your downcast head, your eyes search the floor. “I’m sorry, chef.” But the apology falls onto deaf ears. // It’s a busy shift. With your tail caught in between your legs, it’s either a cutting board in front of you with a knife in hand or plates and a rough sponge by the sink. Oil from the fryer nearby splashes onto you, the grease coating bowls staining your apron, the heat sticking your tied back hair to your scalp. Yet you wish you could do more. Not just chop bell peppers, finely mince garlic or prepare starches. Not just rinsing bowls to stack into the dishwasher and wash large pots and plates by hand. While you’ve become accustomed to knives, keeping a rapid and constant beat as you slice whatever is in front of you, you wish you could cook. Not just be an accessory to the kitchen. Or an extra member to assist the chefs. But for now, you count your blessings. Humming to yourself late at night while you finish. “What are you still doing here?” The crystal clear voice has you flinching, startled to death and you turn around to see Kim Seokjin in the flesh. White shirt rolled to his elbows, black trousers, expensive Rolex on his wrist that could pay the rest of your student loans with. You gawk at him. Speechless. Scared. He doesn’t wait for you to find your tongue, dismissing your silence. “Where are the others? They should be cleaning up too. Just because dinner service is over, doesn’t mean they can leave.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, no longer speaking to you but himself. “I won’t have anyone slacking in my kitchen.” “I-It’s fine, chef.” Your voice is barely a squeak, but you muster the courage, not wanting them to get yelled at tomorrow. You turn around, quickening up your scrubbing until your nails start to hurt. “I’m supposed to be washing the dishes anyway.” “It shouldn’t be taking you this long.” You wonder if he’s scolding you. It goes silent. “Finish up and go change,” Seokjin says shortly and you nod. It takes another ten minutes for the task to be completed and then you’re wiping down the counters before heading to the lockers to change out of your apron and uniform. Usually, you’d come out, turn off all the lights and begin the final trek home. But today, your blood runs cold. Your mouth fills with cotton when you step out. Against your own assumption, the head chef has not in fact left. Instead, Seokjin is leaning against the counter with his coat on, furiously tapping on his phone with his thick brows furrowed like they usually are. You swallow hard and bow your head as you pass him. “Good night, chef.” “Wait.” Immediately, you halt. He pockets his device. “Are you walking?” The absence of an answer is enough of an indication for him. “I’ll drive you. It’s dangerous to walk home at this time of night.” It isn’t a suggestion. It isn’t an offer either. It’s a command. And soon, you discover yourself in his expensive Mercedes. The vehicle is black, sleek and you’re afraid of touching the leather seats more than you have to in case you stain it with poverty and have him sue you for damages. Or fire you. “Turn left,” his fancy navigation system deadpans and it startles you. Yet Seokjin is undeterred and with one hand on the wheel, he turns at the light, allowing the car to roll smoothly over the pavement. The passing lamp posts’ glow also illuminate his features, his plump lips and the slope of his nose. If Hyoyeon was here she would be salivating at the sight, how his chin is lifted, head slightly cocked. You would be too, if you weren’t so afraid. Kim Seokjin exudes confidence and intimidation, rightfully so too. He’s worlds out of your league. And as your eyes stray from his profile to focus on the cloud above his head, your smiling expression still emerges. You don’t understand how someone like you can be with someone like him. “Is there something on my face?” His question leaking with annoyance shakes you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from him frantically to look out the window. “N-No.” The tense quietness that follows is enough that you want to bang your head against the dashboard and hope you get knocked out to spare you from this awkwardness. Then again, you might just end up with a bruise and his car repair bill which would be even wors— “You won’t be seeing Jisoo anymore,” Seokjin suddenly says and your head swivels to him. “She decided to cheat on me and that was a deal breaker, so I broke it off.” “Oh.” “I didn’t know you were one for gossip, but go ahead and tell the others if you’d like.” “I..I’m sorry.” Your downcast head faces your lap and you swallow hard. “It’s personal and I shouldn’t have intruded or asked. It was wrong and unprofessional of me for bringing it up.” “No.” There’s a moment of silence as he looks straight ahead. “It was wrong of me to act the way I did.” You blink wide-eyed and Seokjin parks at the curb. “My reaction was a bit uncalled for — it’s something I’m still working on.” You stare at him and finally, the man meets your gaze. “You can get out now.” “O-Oh.” You scramble out the car. “T-Thank you.” The moment the door shuts, he drives off. Fate can be changed. It’s rare, but choices influence futures and who someone ends up with can change depending on the actions they take. You just never expected Seokjin’s reason for the change to be so heartbreaking. Even if he stated it factually and his expression never wavered, you could sense it in his voice. The sadness you didn’t know he could possess. // “What made you think I would like him?” Jihyo is exasperated as she wipes down the counter and Taehyung grins as he sweeps the floor. “The guy literally kept on going about rock climbing, bungee jumping and skydiving. Do I look like an adrenaline junkie to you, Kim Taehyung?” “Hey, hey. Yeonjun is nice, okay? I just thought you would be into the rough look.” “Not at all. This is the last time I’m letting you set me up.” Yoongi smirks as he passes by. “I’ll take it that your blind date didn’t go well?” Jihyo glares at him. Hoseok turns around with an amused smile. “It was your fault with trusting Taehyung with this sort of thing. What kind of guy are you into? Maybe I could set you up with someone better.” She sighs wistfully. “I don’t even know anymore. I just want someone reliable and half decent.” In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker up to the cloud above her head. There’s a bright eyed young man there and you smile, unloading the dishwasher as you continue listening to their conversation. “See? It wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung pipes up to defend himself. “How am I supposed to know what kind of person you’d be into if you don’t know yourself?” “Oh, so you know?” “Of course I do!” He scoffs and becomes dreamy as he muses, “I want someone with long hair and dresses fashionably, someone who’s sweet and gentle, like a puppy.” But based on the person above him, they appear rougher around the edges with shorter hair and a frown. But you let Taehyung have it, not commenting a single word. You’ve learnt from experience that it doesn’t work well if you come out of nowhere and try to involve yourself. They continue talking about ideals, even Namjoon that pinches in he’s been seeing someone lately — an old friend who he went to school with that he never thought of romantically until recently. You’re having fun just listening in until the question is directed at you. “Me?” You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know either. I haven’t really thought about it before.” “Oh, don’t give me that.” Taehyung nudges you. “Everyone has some idea.” But you’ve sincerely never considered it before. You always thought you would live in solitude without another companion and even came to terms with it. But things have changed. “I guess….someone kind and considerate. Thoughtful. I don’t care what they do, except that they have to be a good person.” It might be a generic answer, but as you think about Seokjin, you know you don’t want someone domineering and frightening. Yet from last night, Seokjin didn’t seem so daunting in the car. “Yeah, I can see that.” Jihyo nods. “What about Chef Kim?” you ask, eyes glistening in the light, curious beyond belief. “What do you think his ideal is?” The people around the kitchen hum, speculating over the boss’ preferences. They’re equally intrigued by the question. “Anyone who won’t shit their pants when he’s around,” Taehyung laughs as he finishes sweeping and pours the grime from the dustpan into the trash. As Yoongi wraps a bowl, he mindlessly offers, “He seems to like the serious type,” “What was Jisoo like?” Jihyo asks, tapping her chin with a frown. “Sophisticated,” Hoseok suggests and you look at him, breathing a sigh of relief. Out of all things, you were definitely not sophisticated. “Gentle.” “Sweet,” Namjoon says with confidence, having known the man the most after years of working together, “He likes the hard-working and earnest ones who prove themselves to be more than he expects.” As if summoning the devil himself, Kim Seokjin comes from the back area and walks straight through the kitchen. “Stop slacking,” he states in a monotone and everyone returns to their tasks with a simultaneous ‘yes, chef’. But as he passes by you, he pauses for a moment. “Everyone needs to leave on time today. If there’s anything that isn’t clean, you need to work together so that it is.” “Yes, chef,” sounds throughout the kitchen once more. You know being passive won’t solve anything. You need to actively do something that will repulse him, make it so he’ll vow never to get involved with you. If he makes the decision, fate itself will change and you won’t have to end up together. The only plausible strategy to repulse you have at the moment is to embody the reverse of what Seokjin’s ideals are. The opposite of what appeals to him — sophisticated, sweet and gentle. // It takes you a while to pinpoint what the exact opposite is. But you find it. Loud. Obnoxious. Aggressive. You need to be these things in a way that doesn’t get you fired, but just enough that it alters who his match is. Part of you isn't sure you have it in you to be this way, but it’s worth a shot. You’ll do anything to change fate. “What the hell are you still doing in my kitchen?” Seokjin is standing meters away, half shrouded in the darkness. Your eyes flicker up at him but you resume dicing the carrots into one inch lengths. Only half the blade is lifted off the wooden cutting board and it descends at a rapid rhythm, rather therapeutic to listen to. There’s an urge to cower down, but you channel your aggression, pretending it’s Taehyung and not Kim Seokjin — head chef with two Michelin stars — enough money to assassinate you and cover up the crime. “Everyone went out to have dinner together, but I came back to get a head start on prepping ingredients for tomorrow. I need the practice anyway. Why? Is it a problem?” The man’s brow is lifted at your upfront behaviour. “Get out. I’ll drive you back.” “I’m going to finish this first,” you retort without a breath to waste. Seokjin scoffs and puts down the keys he just grabbed. He sighs exhaustingly and you feel his stare burning into you. It’s hard to ignore it. You even start sweating until he moves towards the fridge, and that’s when you finally steal the chance to peek at him. “Are you going to eat? I can make you something.” “It’s fine.” He grabs two eggs, some shredded cabbage, a handful of spinach and a stick of butter. You don’t question it, solely focusing on your task until there’s sizzling on the pan and he leaves the stove to look over you. “Your technique is poor.” “What?!” Your voice is loud unintentionally, but you’re wholly shocked. If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your knife skills. You’ve spent countless time on refining it and getting it to meet standards. “You could go faster,” he deadpans. “Your grip is too tense and you’re holding the knife too high up. You want to hold it at that balance point, so you have the most control over it and the weight is properly distributed.” Seokjin smoothly grabs a knife off the rack and holds it in front of you. You copy him. “It's easier to push the blade through when you're holding it there.” “Like this?” You begin chopping again and he hums. Against your will, a smile finds your features. It’s the first time he praised you— well...it’s less of a praise and more of a half-hearted noise of approval, but it still counts. Seokjin takes the pan from the heat and switches it off. He grabs a fork from the drawer to start eating and you look over, finishing the job. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your blatant ogling. “Do you have an issue?” You smile at him, stepping forward. “Can I have a bite?” Seokjin scoffs. But you lean over and he steps aside, allowing you to nab a fork from the drawer to take some. It’s not like you’re particularly hungry, but you’re curious as to what he’s made. It’s been a long time since you’ve had food from the head chef himself and asking him for his dinner might just be off-putting enough that he’ll hate you forever. It wouldn’t be impossible considering he’s so picky. You swear, one mistake is all it takes for him to hold a grudge till the day he dies. Yet, what you don’t expect is for the scrambled eggs to melt on your tongue. He’s sautéd the spinach, left the cabbage undercooked to add a crunch, and the eggs are fluffy in your mouth, a vivid gold that adds to the haphazard presentation. “This...this is delicious!” He chews in his cheek. “It’s something I eat when there’s nothing in the fridge.” You’re amazed. The fact that Kim Seokjin can’t recognize his own ingenuity is painful. “You should add this to the menu.” He scoffs. “You think I would add scrambled eggs next to the caviar and truffle? I think you forgot this is a fine dining restaurant.” “It’s fine,” you mumble. “I mean if it tastes good, it tastes good, right, chef?” A tiny smile fixes at his visage, tugging his plump lip upwards. “You sure have a lot more opinions tonight.” “Well, I’ve decided to speak my thoughts more,” you hum, scooping up another spoonful of his meal. Your eyes flicker up as you chew with your mouth wide open. “Why? Is it unattractive?” “It’s interesting,” he says with a smile that’s more visible until he barks, “Hurry up eating so I can drive you home.” You scoff at him as he walks away and you finish his dinner off. // Everyone’s on edge. “It’s more akin to pretentious artwork without any real flavour than real food,” Hoseok reads from his phone to the entire kitchen. “Head chef, Kim Seokjin, is not far from what his cooking lacks too. A pretentious and egotistical nature, it’s no wonder his personal life is in shambles.” Your fist tightens. Not only did the published article criticize his dishes, claiming it lost its touch and that he’s lost his roots, but they attacked his personality. His personal life. Going into detail of how his relationship was broken off unexpectedly. “Oh shit,” Taehyung exhales. “Was that really posted online for everyone to see?” Jihyo asks in a pitched voice, equally horrified and panicked. Hoseok nods and before anyone can say anything, the backdoor is heard. Without prompting, everyone swiftly moves to their station, not uttering a single peep. Seokjin comes in, his expression unchanged and he deadpans the usual greeting as he moves past the kitchen. Your face above his head hasn’t changed. But you know it’s not the time to dwell on it. For the rest of the shift, Taehyung’s on his best behaviour and neither Jihyo nor Yoongi make snarky comments. It’s come at a cost — the morale is lower than usual. The atmosphere is tense and even Namjoon’s earnest encouragement can’t help. Out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but watch Seokjin. He doesn’t make mention to the article, yet by the deep furrow of his brow, you can tell he’s in a grumpy mood. It’s understandable. But you wonder why it seems like he’s less angry and more hurt. If it were you, you’d be furious. The personal details of your life outed publicly and not only were your skills scrutinized, but your personality too. Seokjin was cheated on and now chastised. Even if he’s resilient, it’s too much for anyone to take. It doesn’t look like he has friends to rely on either. “Are you coming, Y/N?” Jihyo asks, turning around as you linger behind her. The restaurant’s lights are turned off, the kitchen long cleaned and your clothes changed into a fresh pair that doesn’t reek of dish soap and fish. But you feel unsettled. Like there’s still one more thing you haven’t finished doing. “No, it’s alright. I forgot something. You can go right ahead.” She nods, joining the others and you walk to the back, pushing the doors of the kitchen open. There’s still a light on and you find Seokjin sitting on a stool by a counter. He looks up at you, visage in a neutral state. Neither a frown nor a smile. “What are you still doing here?” Your hand tightens on your bag strap and you approach him. “Are you okay?” Seokjin smiles at you. For the first time, it isn’t mocking — it’s gentle and tinged with sadness. The corner of his plump lips quirk ever so subtly and his arm extends, hand plopping on top of your head before it slides off. “I’m fine. It’s still early enough that I don’t need to drive you. You should go home before the sun completely sets.” Wordlessly, you begin to walk away. But then a sharp inhale is stolen through your parted lips. Before you can second guess yourself, you grab Kim Seokjin. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he glares at you. “We should go out for a drink.” You don’t waver even with the incredulous look on his face. “What’s wrong? Never had a drink with an employee before? It looks like you need one and I’ll only offer once. I’m pretty busy myself, you know.” It’s aggressive, obnoxious, a bit loud. It’s all the things you suppose he dislikes in a person, yet somehow the two of you have never been closer. You end up in some hole in the wall, drinking shots of soju that burn its way down your throat. Seokjin sits across from you with an amused smile on his face that’s so irritating you want to slap it off, and you damn yourself for letting it slip your mind that you’re a lightweight. “Aren’t you hurt, Kim?” The words slightly slur on your tongue. “‘s ridiculous! To criticize your food is one thing, but to criticize your personality and talk about your personal life ‘s just crossing the line!” His lips pull, his eyes flicker down to the empty bottle beside you. “Yeah. It is.” “Then why aren’t you mad?!” Your fist pounds the wooden table. “Getting cheated on is sad enough! Why do they gotta rub it in, huh?” His brow lifts, but you continue, “should sue them!” Seokjin exhales on a sip. “It’s part of the business.” “No, ’s not!” “It was my ex who told them anyway. She’s upset that I kicked her out of the apartment.” “Then that’s more reason to be mad!” You press your face into your hands, angry at how he’s not angry. “How can you be so nice? How can you be so nice and no one knows it?!” Seokjin smiles to himself. “This freaking sucks,” you moan. He sighs at your drunken state and orders water for you. The old lady tottles by with a big smile and you get a chance to see the cloud of fog and the face above her head. “I brought the bean sprouts back,” her husband calls from the entrance at the same time with a grocery bag. “I’ll be right there.” She places the glass down in front of you. “Here you go.” Jealousy colours you pink inside. “You met your soulmate,” you exhale at her quietly. The woman’s eyes twinkle. “That old man? He gives me more headaches than anything. I’d rather this handsome man be my soulmate,” she quips, casting a glance at an embarrassed Seokjin who thanks her for her compliment. Her husband calls her again and she hurries back. Seokjin leans forward with a skeptical look. “Are you okay?” “I’m envious,” you sigh wistfully, looking on at the married couple at the back with your chin rested in your palm. After a moment, you shift towards the man across from you. Seokjin really is handsome. “I come from a long line of matchmakers, you know, and I have this ability.” He plays along. “What ability?” “I see the faces of who people are gonna end up with.” You drink the water, cooling your throat, but above the rim of the glass, you recognize his scoff and amusement. The glass slams down on the table in your protest. “It’s true! It’s been like that since I was a baby!” “Okay, okay. I believe you.” He clearly doesn’t believe you. Irritated, you straighten your spine. “A long, long time ago back in High School, I really, really, really liked this guy.” Seokjin’s brows raise, not sure where you’re going with this. “Alright…?” He nudges the glass of water back to you. “I knew he wasn’t gonna end up with me, but he asked me out. And like a total idiot, I-I went out with him anyway. Then guess what happened?” He has no idea. A thick lump forms in your throat and makes it hard to speak. “He met the girl he‘s supposed to end up with, so I broke it off. They got married a year after high school. So I was right. I was...right.” Tears flood your vision, clouding the dark-haired man in front of you. You forgo the water for the shot Seokjin poured himself and you down it. You were right. But it hurt. Seokjin’s voice is soft, though it does little to console you. “So….because of your ‘ability’, you haven’t gone out with anyone else?” You nod. “I’d be setting myself up for a failure anyway.” Your head lifts and your tired gaze connects with his. “My family wanted me to be a matchmaker like them. But I love, love, love cooking and I wanna be a chef. Like you.” The corner of his mouth quirks. You’re honest — in a way he wouldn’t have expected from sober you. But he doesn’t mind it whatsoever. “I know you don’t believe me. But look.” You reach over, tapping him relentlessly on the shoulder and your hand barely comes to cover your mouth as if you’re children exchanging secrets across the table. “See those two women over there? They’re gonna end up together.” Your whispers are all too loud and Seokjin glares, not sure if you’re hysterical or delusional. Or both. You turn to the window and he follows your line of sight. At the same time, a couple holding hands passes by and you shake your head. “They don’t end up together.” “How do you know?” “I already said! I see it. Above their heads.” Then you turn your head, looking at him. Seokjin’s startled, having not realized that you’ve leaned in so close, that your faces are mere inches away. But before he can shift back, your lip pulls and you murmur, “We’re supposed to end up together.” His brow raises. “It was gonna be someone else. Then one day, you came into work and poof! It was my face! Just like that. I almost got a heart attack, you know!” Giggles start to spill out of you. “It was a huge shock cause I always thought I was gonna be alone since I can’t see my own. Well, sometimes fate changes, so it might change again! Don’t worry!” He exhales, squeezing out the air from his lungs. He stands, grabbing his coat and then tugging your arm up. “You’ve had too much to drink. C’mon. Let’s go.” “Aye, aye, captain— I mean chef!” His smile is small, but all too evident. He should smile more, even if it ruins the cold and aloof exterior he’s got going on. It’s cute and makes him look younger. So you express the idea and he chops your head lightly with his hand and gives you a rather gentle ‘shut up’ that has you grinning more. // The sunlight burns your vision and there’s a pounding headache at your temples. There’s an overwhelming urge to pull the covers over your head, but as the slits of your eyes open and you realize there’s a strange floral scent to the sheets, you bolt upwards. It hurts all the senses in your body, but your eyes register the neat recipe books lined on the shelf, trophies and certificates on the walls, a poster of the planets, a telescope and Kim Seokjin’s family picture by his nightstand. And then you scream. “Christ. Relax!” He appears at the doorway, eyeing you with his arms crossed. “You were drunk, so I took you home.” Absentmindedly, you tug the covers up to your chest in spite of still wearing the same clothes from last night. Your dry voice croaks out. “We...we didn’t do anything scandalous did—” “No!” He shuts the thought down before it runs wild in your head and Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do anything to you, jesus christ, woman! Just get up. There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll make you some breakfast and a hangover drink.” You follow his instructions, cleaning yourself up to the best of your abilities with the limited supplies, but it’s surreal to be in Seokjin’s penthouse. It’s clean and organized, like you expected, though a lot more cozy and warm. You didn’t know he traveled so frequently and that he had an interest in astronomy — if there’s anything the telescope and posters tells you. “Stop snooping,” he calls out from the kitchen, looking up to where you’re investigating his movie collection. You come over with a half-hearted apology and he sets down a bowl of oatmeal and a mysterious concoction in a tall glass. Both taste heavenly, enough to work up your appetite ten folds. But then he says, “Eat fast. It’s a special day today.” You’re not sure what he means by it, but you simply nod and nurse your headache. You remember what you told him last night, how you revealed all your secrets in one long tangent and you cringe at yourself. Seokjin probably thinks you’re a complete nut. But strangely enough, when you look at the cloud above his head, your face hasn’t changed. “Why are you staring?” “I’m not,” you mutter and tear your eyes away, unsuspecting to his smile. But in spite of how close and upfront you might’ve gotten with Seokjin, he still tells you to walk to work yourself — that it’s close enough and too much of a hassle if he drives you. So you cuss him out as you’re striding down the block as he zooms past you in his expensive vehicle. You hope he notices your glare from across the kitchen, but if he does, he doesn’t comment. “Today, we have some special guests for dinner service. A few of my friends will be coming and one of them will be proposing, so let’s make sure we give them a good dinner and memory.” “Yes, chef.” The news is exciting and even puts a buzz in the kitchen. “Finally, we’re doing something cool,” Taehyung says to you with a swollen smile. “I love a good proposal story.” “Always the one watching the proposal, never the one getting proposed to,” Yoongi quips as he brushes past and Hoseok snickers. “Hey, I’m working on it!” “I’m surprised Seokjin actually has friends though,” Jihyo comments and right when Yoongi turns to add something, they both pale as Seokjin strides past. He glares at them and is even more frightening in his silence. They immediately apologize and he hums, moving out the kitchen. You, Hoseok, and Namjoon laugh. Evening eventually comes and Seokjin temporarily calls a halt to the kitchen in favour of his old friends meeting his staff. It’s unusual to see him in such a good mood, smiling and being sociable. It’s strange in general to see this side of him, but it’s not unwelcome whatsoever. There’s seven of them, a mix of females and males, and you follow Hoseok’s lead in greeting and shaking their hands. Quickly, you recognize who's going to be proposing to who tonight. It’s not hard to miss considering the man is visibly nervous and the close female by his side keeps glancing at him in worry. “Are you alright, Jimin?” “Huh? Yeah.” The blonde with full cheeks and soft features smiles timidly, scratching the back of his neck. He’s dressed too nicely for this to merely be a dinner. “I’m fine. Just not feeling well.” “Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the clinic?” The short-haired female asks, concern evident in the faint knot between her brows. “There’s one down the street. I can go with you.” “I’ll keep an eye on him, Yuri,” the man who introduced himself as Jungkook reassures her, “If anything I’ll take him.” “Jimin’s just excited to try out the food.” Seokjin grins, drawing attention away from his friend. “Rest assured, everyone will feel better after eating and if you get sick tonight, it’s not food poisoning, alright?” There’s laughter in the group and another says, “You’ve been bragging about your restaurant for so long, I thought you were never going to invite us to eat here.” “Well, we’re usually booked full house, but it’s a slower season so I thought why not.” Yet the conversations drown away from your ears as your eyes unintentionally flicker upwards. You don’t mean to — it’s still a habit you’re trying to break. But you feel blood drain from your face as you discern the image that emerges from the fog above Jimin’s head and above Yuri’s. “Y/N?” Taehyung waves his hand in front of your eyes and you snap out of your trance. “Why are you staring into space? We’re going back.” “O-Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something.” You return to the kitchen, forcing yourself to focus and getting back to your task. It’s none of your business. You know better than to involve yourself and it’s not like anyone would believe you in the first place. People’s lives have nothing to do with you. You have to turn a blind eye. It’s none of your business, it’s none of your business— But as you leave to the back area to grab ingredients, you catch the man leaving the bathroom. “Oh, you’re one of Seokjin’s chefs right?” Jimin stops and smiles at you, inhibiting your escape. You shake your head. “I-I’m only a kitchen assistant.” “But you’re still part of his staff.” His eyes are rounded and bright. “Is he mean at all? We’ve been trying to squeeze it out of him, but he won’t give us any details. I heard a bit of shouting, so I was curious.” “Oh, he’s always shouting.” The corner of your mouth quirks and Jimin grins. “He’s a bit mean, but Chef Kim’s just serious about his work and we respect him for it.” “It seems like you understand him better than I do. Anyway, the soup was amazing. I already told Jin, but I thought I should let you know since you’re the one who brought it out to us.” “Thank you.” Your eyes travel above his head and then you notice the way he’s fiddling with a box inside his pants pocket. You swallow hard. “Are you proposing tonight?” Jimin’s head whips up. “How’d you know?” “Chef Kim let all of us know, so we can make sure it’s a memorable dinner service.” His expression softens and he bobs his head. Jimin takes out the ring box and studies it carefully. “I am. I hope it wasn’t too obvious. I know she’ll say yes, but I’m still nervous. She’s the love of my life and these things only happen once,.” “Well….” You give an awkward chuckle. “Sometimes it happens more than once for people.” “Not for us,” Jimin declares in such self-assurance that it’s uncomfortable. His smile filled with affection doesn’t help either. “She’s the one. I don’t think I’ll love anyone more than her.” Your pupils flicker up to the cloud above his head that says otherwise. It gnaws at you, mocking you, and you’re uncertain if you can sleep tonight if you don’t say at least something. So you take the leap. “Are….you...sure?” “What?” “Never mind.” You turn around, having regretted it the moment it spilled. “Please enjoy dinner!” “Wait!” The man unexpectedly grabs you out of sheer instinct, halting you in your spot. He searches your face while his own crumples into a frown. “Did Yuri say something to you?” “No!” you frantically spit before taking a deep breath to calm down. “I’m just….I just….” The philosophy you’ve forced yourself to take collapses at his earnest visage. You were never good at being unattached. “D-Do you think this is a good idea? Are you absolutely sure about this?” “What’s going on here?” There’s a lower voice, a husky timbre. Seokjin stands at the end of the dark corridor and all traces of his outgoing personality are gone. It’s replaced with the serious demeanour you’re used to. He beckons you. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Y/N?” Jimin returns back to the table, even more unnerved than before while you’re pulled outside. You feel small with your back against the brick and Seokjin looming over you. “What the hell are you doing?” You flinch from his tone. You’ve never seen him so angry. He isn’t shouting, screaming or imposing. But the irritation seethes out of him, simmering underneath his skin. You swallow hard, downcast eyes searching the gravel. You think about how dark it’s getting with the sun setting over the horizon. “I…” “Are you seriously trying to talk him out of it?! What gives you the right—” You snap. There’s no reason he should be upset, no reason you should be treated this way. So with your teeth gritted, you give him the truth that’s hard to hear. The truth that you alone must bear. “They’re not going to end up together!” “What?” Seokjin wears the same incredulous look from last night. It’s futile. Still, your mouth runs off into mumbles, “I can see it above their faces. That woman, Yuri, she’s…..paired with that other man. Jungkook.” You give up. Waving the white flag. In the silence that follows, you expect Seokjin to fire you, or call the nearest hospital. Either you’re a nut or unsuitable to work in his kitchen. Maybe both. What you don’t anticipate is his startled expression, horrified as if you just told him there’s a ghost behind him. “How….how’d you know that?” The syllables unusually stutter out of him. It’s not like Seokjin to be inarticulate. “Jungkook hasn’t told anyone he loves her except for me.” It’s your turn to be surprised. The quietness lingers. Then, he sighs. “Don’t get involved,” he scolds, gentler than before. At the same moment, there are cheers from inside that leak out — clapping and hollering — you know Jimin’s proposed. Seokjin turns away, returning to the restaurant floor and you resume your position in the kitchen. Jihyo asks if there’s anything wrong, but you brush her off. For the rest of the night, you concentrate on your job and Seokjin’s friends bid farewell after their stomachs are full from dessert and there’s a diamond on Yuri’s finger. “Job well done everyone.” Seokjin has a satisfied look when he returns and Namjoon shares a smile with everyone. Clean up finishes soon after, but before you can leave, he calls you specifically. “Y/N, come here.” Taehyung looks at you with widened eyes, but you don’t utter a word, staying behind. The kitchen filters out and even Yoongi sends a sympathetic look your way before departing. It’s never a good thing to be called back. You brace yourself. If Seokjin didn’t make a scene firing you earlier than certainly will now. There’s no reason not to — you tried to stop an engagement between his close friends and he probably thinks you’re psychotic. You stand there in silence for a good minute as he fills out some paperwork. It feels like you’re in the principal’s office. Then, the corner of his mouth moves as he casts a glance at you. “Sometimes you borrow the kitchen to practice, right? You can practice tonight.” Confusion renders you immobile, filling your mouth with cotton, but you manage a slight nod. You start to chop vegetables into bowls, dicing and mincing ingredients that will be needed for tomorrow. All the while, Seokjin sits meters away from you with a bunch of papers. Either doing his taxes or filing a report to admit you into the hospital. You’re not sure which one it is. But halfway through, he pipes up again. “You should make something for the two of us to eat.” “Yes, chef.” On any other night, you would be bursting with excitement, knowing it was a chance to impress him. But now you wonder if this will be your last chance to cook. Within minutes, you have a pot on the stove, boiling for ten minutes. “Sit down,” he commands, motioning to the other stool and you oblige. Seokjin makes drinks in the meanwhile, asking what you want. When you mumble anything’s fine, he pulls out a few bottles from the back cabinet and starts mixing. You didn’t know he can bartend, but it’s almost expected that Kim Seokjin can do anything at this point. The atmosphere is terribly awkward, so you exhale from your nose and speak up, “I’m sorry. I...I know I stepped out of line. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I’m really so—” “I believe you,” Seokjin interjects, gaze meeting yours across the counter. Your breath hitches. “I didn’t believe you at first. About the whole ability thing. But when you told me that Jimin and Yuri won’t make it, I knew there was no other possible way.” He pours the drink into two glasses. “Jungkook and Yuri grew up together. He told me a long time ago he was in love with her and I was sworn to secrecy. No one else knows. Not his brother, his mom, or Jimin.” He passes it to you and sighs, taking a sip. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop Jimin or to help Jungkook. It’s something they have to figure out on their own.” You nod, gripping the stem of the glass. “I know.” There’s a pregnant pause. You lift your eyes and it connects with Seokjin’s. Instantly, you feel yourself breaking into a sweat at how intense he looks at you. “Is it true then?” he asks in the quaintness of the kitchen, his voice thick and low. “Are we going to end up together?” “It might change!” The words come out all too frantically in fear he’ll freak out like you did. You know it’s a lot to take in. “Things change all the time. You were supposed to end up with Jisoo, but then, but then things happened so….nothing’s ever certain. It all depends on our actions and choices. I know you don’t like people like me. I don’t have anything to offer you anyway—” “You need to have more confidence in yourself.” Your voice dies on your tongue. Seokjin’s staring at you again in a way that makes your palms clammy, so intense that you wonder if he’s scrutinizing your pores. You swallow hard, tearing your own gawking away until you hear sizzling. The two of you turn to where the pot is almost over boiling and you run over, grabbing it off the stove. “I-It’s done.” He grabs bowls as you set it down and uncover the lid. “What do we have here?” You’re embarrassed. It’s nothing like his fine dining dishes, or even his comfort food that somehow tastes like heaven. “It’s just carrot and potato curry stew. It’s actually something my family cooks…..so it’s nothing fancy.” Seokjin’s spoon dips into the liquid and it’s your turn to watch intently. He smells it, sips and his expression is kept blank. You stand. “I can throw it out if you want—!” “Why are you so jumpy today?” The corner of his plump lips curls. “And why would I want to throw out something so delicious?” Your heart stutters in your chest and tears fill your vision. He might not fire you after all and on top of that, both your inborn ability and cooking skills have been validated. You feel overwhelmed. Especially when he finishes his first bowl and goes for seconds. “This is what I’ve been missing in my cooking,” Seokjin murmurs with a tiny smile. “When they said I was missing my roots, I think I know what they mean now. Thank you, Y/N.” You’re not sure who’s filled with more gratitude. He smiles and you nod at him earnestly, speechless on what to say. At the end of the night, Seokjin drives you home in his black Mercedes. A kind of lull fills that car and it isn’t frightening like it usually would be. Rather, it’s comfortable. A little too short lasting. He parks the car at the curb in front of your apartment and you get out. “Thank you.” Yet after you shut the door, he rolls down the window and stops you. “Y/N.” You look at him and he smiles again. A phenomenon that used to be so rare that seems to happen frequently now. “I hope it doesn’t change.” Kim Seokjin gazes at you, eyes connected across the distance that feels like it’s closing. He never wavers and a lump forms into your throat. “Are we going to end up together?” — Your own words echo in the recesses of your mind— “It might change! Things change all the time.” But here he is. Going against all your efforts of trying to change fate itself. “I hope it doesn’t change. And I hope you don’t want it to change either.” Seokjin drives off, leaving you absolutely stunned. You wonder if he knows what he’s saying. But as you watch his car fade into the distance, somehow you’re not appalled or scared at the idea of being with him anymore.

The kitchen is an organized pandemonium. A place where everyone knows exactly what they’re supposed to do and moves in fluid motions by one another, like a busy crosswalk in the downtown area. It’s a kind of silent teamwork and while you’re merely helping Taehyung chop vegetables or washing the accumulated dishes, you know your role is still an important one. You just wish you could a little more. The moment the back door creaking can be heard, everything comes to a halt. Seokjin rounds the corner as everyone simultaneously greets him. “Good afternoon, chef.” “Afternoon.” There’s a smile on his features, one that surprises a few and makes the others unsettled. “There’s going to be a special menu item today, so I want that prepared as soon as possible.” He hands the new recipe to Namjoon who frowns upon the sprawled notes. “Carrot...and potato soup with chickpea crumble?” “If you need details, ask Y/N,” Seokjin says with a tiny smile. “It’s her recipe.” At once, everyone turns to you with shocked expressions. It’s one thing for Seokjin to suddenly introduce something new, but to introduce yours, it’s both unprecedented and a privilege. You stare at him and his smile widens slightly. “I hope you don’t mind.” “N-Not at all.” The daily tasks commence, but not without a pat on the back from Yoongi, a congratulations from Jihyo and a smile sent your way by Taehyung. Namjoon and Hoseok ask for your help and it’s the first time you’re not just mincing garlic in the corner or washing a stack of dishes. Pride bursts through you and you look across the kitchen to Kim Seokjin. He scoffs at how big your smile is, feigns a glare and tells you to get back to work. The rest of the dinner service goes smoothly. Your appetizer gets compliments from several and you couldn’t be any happier, even when everyone’s left and you’re still scrubbing dishes. There’s a click of a tongue beside you. Seokjin stands with his arms crossed. “You always find ways to make me pay you overtime. Move over.” He rolls up his sleeves and helps you wash the last pots and pans. “Thank you for today. It was a good surprise.” He hums and the pair of you finish up before he tells you to unload the dishwasher tomorrow. “Go change and grab your coat. It’s getting late.” “Are you going to drive me home?” “No. We’re going to scope out some competition.” “Competition?” “We’re going to eat at a restaurant called Dog World,” Seokjin brushes off quickly, but when you continue to blink at him, he sighs and waves you off. “Don’t ask too many questions, alright? This is my excuse for asking you out on a date.” If you weren’t caught off guard before, you’re wholly stunned speechless now. A deer in headlights. And it makes the older bastard grin widely. “Don’t worry.” His voice knocks down into a gentler tone. “You can reject me if you want. I don’t want you to be pressured because I’m your boss, even though I don’t think that matters to you. But you should also know I’m not doing this because of what you see.” He gestures above his head, unknowingly batting the cloud of fog you can perceive. “I’m doing this because I want to.” It sinks into you and your head tilts to your shoulder. “You….want to go out on a date with me?” The corner of Seokjin’s lip pulls and he diverts his vision elsewhere. You notice how his ears are turning red. “Ever since you sat down with me and told me that getting cheated on was sad enough and that they shouldn’t rub it in.” There’s silence. The first stretch of it is because you genuinely don’t know what to say to him. But the second stretch that follows is when you realize just how nervous he is and there’s a ruthless urge to keep him on the edge. You make him simmer in fear, a similar kind to the countless ones he’s given you during stressful shifts in the kitchen. There’s something powerful yet endearing about how Kim Seokjin anticipates your answer. You never thought he could be this way. He just keeps surprising you. When you can’t contain it anymore, you burst out laughing. “I’ll accept on the condition that if you take my recipe permanently, you’ll need to pay me royalties appropriately. Don’t think I won’t take you out to court, Kim.” Seokjin grins and for the first time, certainty sews into you. You have a feeling fate isn’t going to change and you hope it doesn’t either.

[Epilogue] The kitchen is your home. You’re sure Jin would adamantly argue that the house was perfectly fine to be considered your home, but there’s still a charm to the busy kitchen that has drawn you in since childhood. Even if the heat swelters in the still air and is stifling, even when grease and oil splatter and stains your clothes, the effort in cooking makes the food that comes from it even more delicious. “What is this?” All heads turn at your voice and you motion to the plate about to be brought out. “The rice is on the wrong side of the plate! Re-do this, and watch the plating people! I know it’s easy to forget but it’s important to be consistent with the presentation!” “Yes, chef!” It’s strenuous and difficult to be here. It took years to get to where you are, but you wouldn’t trade it in for anything. The reward is worth it. You love your job — maybe even more than Jin, and while you’re sure he wouldn’t be surprised, he’d still playfully whine about being casted aside. The rest of the night goes off without a hitch and once the kitchen is all clean, you switch off the lights and lock the doors. And like magic, the person you’ve been thinking about all day is leaning against the car parked on the curb, arms crossed as he stares out into the starry sky. “About time. I’ve been waiting for the past twenty minutes.” You scoff with a smile and discern the cold cloud emitting from his lips each time he exhales. This is the exact opposite of what you intended to happen. Sometimes you wonder if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy — by knowing he was going to be with you and trying to avoid it, you inadvertently made him closer to you. But whatever the case may be, you’re glad for the outcome. You close the distance and slap your hands against his frozen cheeks, trying to warm them up. A smile tugs on your features. “Sorry. You’re cold, aren’t you? You should’ve just waited in the car.” “But I wanted to see you right away,” he mutters, putting his hands on top of yours to keep you there, then he adds, “and it gives me reason to do this.” Seokjin grins and leans in to press a soft kiss against your lips, one that you smile into. If any of his old kitchen staff or even the current group saw him now, they’d faint with how grossly affectionate he was being. Then again, they might just be used to it considering Jin hasn’t ever paid mind to other people. He’s never been one to opt out of public displays of affection either. “You know I’ve been thinking lately.” “About?” “How hard I tried to get rid of you and how I couldn’t. You’re kind of like a pest.” Your husband of two years straightens his spine, wholly offended. “Pest?” Laughter bubbles out of your chest and you press another chaste kiss to his lips before you’re pushing him aside to get into the car. Seokjin chuckles, rounding the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat. “Are you hungry?” “Not really.” “Namjoon and Taehyung want us to go to the opening of their restaurant.” “Their opening event lasts for three days right? We can always go tomorrow.” You turn to him as he pulls off, driving down the street. “I’m kind of craving your comfort food tonight.” Jin grins, easily obliging while your eyes flicker up to the cloud of fog above his head. You see yourself smiling as widely as you are now, and you’re thankful you have your ability.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #jin fluff #jin scenario #jin reader insert #seokjin fluff #seokjin scenario #Jin as a scary chef :( who's just hardcore about his passion #yo this got Jungle Park Hoseok vibes lol ngl #actually it was inspired by the k-drama Oh My Ghost #I never finished watching it really but I based off the way their kitchen worked with this fic #so if it doesn't seem like a traditional kitchen that's why #I hope you guys enjoy this oneshot!#It's a more classic Jimlingss fluff #with a decent storyline

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Text

The Keeper’s Introduction

Here is my fic for @levihan-drabbles Fluff Friday!

Prompt: "I know I just broke into your apartment in the middle of the night but there are some bad people after my special power over alternate universes and I've decided to put all my faith on you to save everything."

They looked oddly at home, expertly navigating his kitchen. As though they had been there before. They grabbed the honeypot from another cupboard, and found a spoon in one of the drawers.

"Oi," Levi said. "How'd you know where I keep all my shit?"

The stranger waved their hand flippantly, "Oh, I'm well acquainted with your layout. It never really changes, wherever you are."

Levi had just settled in for the night when a loud echoing crack sounded in the street below.

It was well past midnight, far too late for such a racket. The sudden violence of it was almost enough to make him spill his tea. He waited with his breath held, his heart shamefully hammering in his chest. Levi prided himself on being the type who doesn't scare so easily—but one can't be blamed for being alarmed by an unexpected noise in the dead of night, can they?

The world remained mercifully still and quiet. Levi approached the open window slowly (carefully, not frightfully; there is no indignity in being cautious) and peered out into the night. The sky outside was almost full dark, saved from the pressing black by only a smattering of stars and the moon, a papery sliver of a thing hooked high over the distant rooftops. The window, open only an inch, gave entry to a gentle breeze, still balmy despite the lateness of the hour. The town was drowsy, dozing; only the occasional candle flickered in the darkness, and no sound, prior to or following the thunderous clap, could be heard.

The street, three stories below, was empty. Levi scanned the road, but found nothing unusual. The strangest thing, perhaps, was that his face was the only one peering out. None of his neighbours had deemed the explosion worth investigating.

It was, for all the world, a night as perfectly normal as any other. Levi had seen no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary might occur.

He blew out a breath. Maybe he had imagined it. He had been quite engrossed in his novel, and it was well past time for him to be sleeping. It isn't unreasonable to assume that the sound of a cat, perhaps, rattling the bins in the alley had startled his tired, occupied mind. Resolving to finish his chapter and go straight to bed, Levi gave the street one last cursory glance, and turned away from the window.

He had just settled back into his chair and picked up his tea cup and his book, when the doorbell rang.

The chime in itself was yet another oddity, for Levi received visitors only very rarely, and never at an hour so late as this.

He set down his drink and lowered the book to his lap with a frown. Better, he thought, not to answer straight away. Then they might leave without causing him any trouble—and if they rang a second time, and even a third, Levi would suppose it might be something urgent and might finally be pressed to receive his unwanted guest.

Much to his pleasure, the bell did not sound a second time. Levi waited, poised to stand, but minutes passed by with no sound at all, and eventually, mildly disgruntled now by the persistent interruptions, he settled back and tried, once again, to read.

He turned the page. Picked up his now lukewarm tea, and took a sip. Sunk down more comfortably into the plush armchair. He felt himself begin to settle. The peculiarities of the night drifted from his thoughts as he read, mind too engaged with the story in his hands to think too deeply over the strange events that had occurred.

And then, without any warning at all, a godawful shriek rent the air as Levi's window was wrenched open from the outside, the wood frame protesting with a violent screech. Levi jerked in his seat, book falling from his hands and his tea cup shattering as it struck the stone floor.

There was a person, making no efforts at all to be quiet, unashamedly clambering in through his window. Levi watched, too shocked to move, while they pulled themself over the sill and crumpled in a heap to the floor.

Levi could do nothing but stare as the intruder heaved themself up. They unfurled long limbs, straightening to their full height, and turned quickly to poke their head out of the open window. They looked left, then right, down, and most peculiarly, up, before pulling themself back inside and slamming the window closed. They drew the curtains shut, and turned to look into the room, casting their eyes about the place as though inspecting it.

They walked with a relaxed gate, seemingly unbothered by their rude intrusion. Levi couldn't be sure if they had noticed his presence, for they made no show of knowing he was even there, and Levi was still too stunned to announce it. He watched the stranger rotate in a slow circle, looking everywhere from the ceiling down to the floor. Satisfied, they slapped their hands to their hips and nodded once, and then their gaze fell on Levi, still sitting stiff as a board in his chair. The light from Levi's lamp cast half their face in shadow, glinting off the lenses of their glasses. Their mouth stretched in a wide, manic grin.

Levi swallowed hard. His courage returned to him swiftly, urging him to his feet. He faced the stranger head on with his face twisted in a scowl.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The intruder's grin only widened.

"Oh, Mike was right after all!"

They crossed to him quickly in two great strides. Levi twisted his head this way and that to watch them as they circled him. This close, Levi could better see the sharp hook of their nose, the angle of their jaw and the whiskey colour of their eyes, with strange, dark markings around their irises, like the face of a clock. He could also see the fingerprint smudges on their lenses. They wore all black, from their muddy boots up to the overlarge hood draped over their shoulders like a small cloak.

"Shitty four-eyes, answer me."

They let out a gleeful laugh.

"Oh, Mike my friend, you are a genius!" They said. And then, to Levi, they added, "Mike can sniff out you Guardians half a universe away, I swear."

Levi had no idea who Mike was, or what a Guardian was, and frankly, he didn't care. He levelled his home invader with a sharp glare. When he spoke again, it was through gritted teeth. "I said, what the hell are you doing climbing through my window? How? I’m three stories up!"

The stranger's smile finally faltered. They tilted their head. "I did try the doorbell."

"Why did you want to be in my house?"

"Ah, well, you see—that's kind of a long story." They turned on their heel and strode into the kitchenette. Levi watched on, incredulous, as they filled his kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil. With one hand, they reached into the cupboard above the sink and rifled through the boxes until they found Levi's stash of chamomile tea, and with the other they reached for the draining board, and plucked up two clean cups by their handles. All of this, while they watched the water begin to simmer in the pot.

They looked oddly at home expertly navigating his kitchen. As though they had been there before. They grabbed the honeypot from another cupboard, and found a spoon in one of the drawers.

"Oi," Levi said. "How'd you know where I keep all my shit?"

The stranger waved their hand flippantly, "Oh, I'm well acquainted with your layout. It never really changes, wherever you are."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean, shitty glasses?" Levi tried to inject an air of disinterested anger into his tone, but the stranger’s words, said so plainly, raised goosebumps on his skin.

They chuckled. "I can't tell you how many times we've had this conversation. I'm Hange, by the way."

Hange brought the tea over to where Levi stood, and held one cup out for Levi to take. He clenched his fists by his sides instead. The tea, upsettingly, smelled perfect; brewed at the right temperature, for the right time, and sweetened with just a drop of honey. When he didn't take the cup, Hange shrugged and set it on the little table by the armchair. They spied the broken china on the floor and smirked, "you never have much luck with that one."

"Excuse me?"

"That cup. It's the one with the gold rim, right? And all the little forget-me-nots around the outside?"

Levi said nothing. Hange, irritatingly and unexplainably, for the cup was in many pieces now and the lighting was too poor to see it in any great detail, was absolutely right.

"You still haven't answered my question," he said.

"Right, right. Like I said, it's a long story. Do you want the unabridged version or are you happy with the footnotes?"

"A summary is fine."

Hange took a great slurp of their tea. "Long story short, I pissed off some very bad people, and now they are after me for my, ah—abilities."

"But why my house?"

"Mike told me where you'd be. And boy, am I glad he did! I barely made it in time. I was aiming to land right in your sitting room, but I guess my calculations were a little off…" they trailed away with a frown. Levi watched their lips work quickly, as though they were running numbers in their head. Then they stopped, and shook themselves off. "Doesn't matter now anyway. I didn't wake you, did I? World hopping can be pretty loud."

That, at least, accounted for the sound Levi had heard outside. But...

"Hange," Levi said. "You've explained nothing."

"Give me a minute, Levi. It's complicated! There's a lot of history and I already know you don't want to hear any of it. Besides, we wouldn't have the time. We'll have to leave early in the morning."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Sure you are," Hange said. "I have to meet up with Erwin, and I need you to get me there."

"Where's there? Who the hell is Erwin?"

Again, Hange waved their hand at him. "Unimportant. Look, what matters is this: I might've messed with the timeline in another universe, and that may have caused some….upset, with some very important and very powerful people. I only changed a little bit!! I met this guy, Onyankopon—he's so cool, you know? Smart as hell. He had this idea that—well, it was the base model for an airplane."

"A what?"

"Well, see, that's the thing. Onyankopon asked the same question, and I just...told him. A little bit. I went a little too deep into the mechanics of it all, and he...well he might have developed a model that works. Two hundred years before it was supposed to exist in his universe. And now the Bureau is looking for me, but I’m not done with Erwin’s mission yet and so I am putting all my eggs in your basket. I need you to get me out of this in one piece.”

Hange looked more sheepish about this insane indiscretion than they had about breaking and entering.

"You're fucking insane," he said. Hange let out a bright laugh.

"So you've told me, more times than I can count."

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He felt a headache coming on.

"You look stressed," Hange said, sounding almost sympathetic. "Drink the tea! It'll help, though it's probably a little cold by now."

"You're the reason I'm stressed, idiot."

"Sorry about that," they said, not sounding very sorry at all. "I know the circumstances aren't...ideal. I'd much rather have come to you another time and explained everything properly, but—well, I was kind of in a hurry, and Mike sniffed you out, said you were the nearest you to my location. I didn't have much of a choice."

"Who the hell is Mike? Some kind of mutt?"

"Sort of," Hange said with a grin. "He's a Seeker. It's his job to locate people like you—people like us—when the Bureau needs us. Fortunately for me, Mike isn't overly loyal to our dear overseers—his allegiance lies with Erwin, as does mine. And Erwin is decidedly less strict about most of the timelines."

Hange circled around Levi and set their hands on his shoulders. Something strange sparked there, a heat that sunk through skin and muscle and settled right in his bones. They had already ushered him into his chair by the time he shrugged them off.

"What does any of this batshit garbage you're spewing have to do with me?"

"You are a Guardian. It's your role to protect people like me from harm."

"The hell does that mean, people like you? I’m not fighting anyone to save your scrawny ass from anything. You fucked up, you deal with it. "

Hange stood up straight and puffed out their chest. "I am a Keeper. I'm supposed to keep order in the timelines. According to the Bureau, at least. Erwin has other ideas—but that's a story for another time. For now, we should rest. Like I said, we've got to leave early in the morning."

"To go where?"

"To Erwin!" Hange said brightly. "I don't have my pocket watch anymore, so we're gonna have to take the traditional route. There's no way I'll make it on my own. And don’t worry, you won’t have to fight anyone. I’ll explain it all on the journey."

"Look,” Levi said. “Can't you just...drop out of the sky whenever this Erwin guy is? I'm sure he's got his own window you can climb through."

"No can do," Hange said. "I can only hop between universes. I need my watch to move fast within any one universe, and mine took a dunk in a river, during my escape."

"Magic bullshit technology that lets you, what, teleport across the damn globe? And it can't survive a dip in a river?"

"They aren't watertight," Hange said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And they still run on batteries. Moblit is working on improving the technology."

Levi's head throbbed. He rubbed his eyes and glowered up at Hange, who was watching him with a soft smile. Levi deepened his scowl.

"What's that shitty face for?"

Hange's expression softened further. They looked at him with so much fondness, Levi felt his face grow warm.

"I've missed you, you know," they said. "Well, not you, but—you. It's been...a really long time."

"That makes no sense," Levi said. He meant it, too—nothing Hange had said to him made sense at all. It was the stuff of storybooks, fairy tales; the product of an imagination run wild. And yet, Hange's presence, alarming as it had been and frankly still was, felt oddly familiar. The warmth of their hands still rested on his shoulders. In spite of himself, Levi felt the corner of his lip begin to curl into a small, absent smile. He wrestled it back down.

Hange laughed, a light, lilting thing, and yawned. They crossed the room to Levi's small dining table and dropped heavily into a chair.

"I suppose you're right," they said with a lazy grin. "It doesn't make any sense at all. You'll just have to trust me."

"You broke into my house. You're not selling your reliability very well. And don't even think about it."

Hange looked over at him, surprised. "Think about what?"

"Putting your filthy feet on my damn table."

"Whatever gave you the idea I'd do something like that?"

Levi opened his mouth to answer, but snapped it closed swiftly as the thought, which had come to him thoroughly unbidden, fully registered in his mind. You do it all the time.

Levi pinched his eyes, staring at Hange. They sat with a curious little tilt of their head, watching him with an open, analytical look. Levi squirmed under their gaze.

"I don't know," he said. "Seems like the kind of shit you'd do."

"Like something I've done before?"

Levi flinched, and Hange smiled all teeth at him, a strange mix of impish and pleased. They propped their elbow on the table and rested their chin on their palm. "There it is," they said quietly.

"What?" Levi asked. Too eager. Hange looked thrilled as they straightened up in their chair, eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

"There are a lot of you's, one in every single universe, just like there are a lot of Isabel's, and Farlan's, and Petra's—"

"How do you—you know what, nevermind. Go on."

"But because you're a Guardian, all your you's are linked. And because you're my Guardian," Hange looked weirdly proud at this pronouncement, "it's only natural that you remember me. It'll happen a lot, I'm sure. Try not to freak out."

Levi snorted. "You say that now?"

"Would it have made a difference if I said it earlier?"

Levi mulled that over for a second. No, he supposed it wouldn’t. He’d have thought them completely unhinged either way. Instead of answering, he picked up the tea from the table and drained it in three gulps. When he looked back at Hange, they were smiling brightly at him.

"Just how you like it, right?"

"I prefer it hot."

Hange kicked their heels against the floor and shot him an affronted look. With a petulant pout of their lip, they said, " So unfair, Levi! That's not my fault."

He shrugged them off. He would never admit it to them, but he took some bizarre delight in watching Hange's tantrum. It felt all too natural. They slumped back in their chair, head tipped over the back rest to stare at the ceiling.

"Ah, you're as cruel as ever," they said. "It's good. Very you."

Hange pushed their glasses up to their forehead and rubbed at their eyes. The scene looked painfully familiar; Hange, smiling sleepily, bleary eyed in the low blush of candlelight. Only, in the image forming in his mind, they were resting against a plump, well-fluffed pillow, and their hair was down from its ponytail, still messy and falling over their face. In the image forming in his mind, Levi's own hand reached out to brush a few strands from their cheeks, and Hange turned into his palm, their lips brushing the sensitive skin there.

Levi shook his head, face a little warm. Hange was watching him again. He scowled at them for good measure, gathering up his own cup and theirs, and washing them in the sink. He let the water run cool over his hands for a long moment.

"You should rest, if you're tired," he said. From the table, Hange hummed.

"Good idea," they said. "The bed's big enough for two, right?"

Levi turned sharply to refute them, but Hange didn't give him the chance. They had already heaved themself up out of their chair and kicked off their boots, and now, with the practiced ease of someone who had lived in the house for years, they were wandering down the hall and straight into Levi's bedroom, leaving the door open behind them.

Levi dried his hands slowly on the dish towel. He looked at the armchair, big and well-cushioned, spacious enough for him to recline in for a few hours rest. It wouldn't be the first time, and he had no doubt it would be the last. And then he looked down the hallway, where Hange must have lit the lamp; warm light spilled out into the corridor, and Levi was reminded abruptly of his strange thoughts.

This Hange, they were crazy. Talking the most nonsense Levi had ever heard come straight from another person's mouth. He would be better off resting his eyes in his chair, and kicking Hange out at first light.

That was the logical thing to do. The reasonable thing. That was the desperate plea of his better judgement.

Instead, he blew out his lamp, and stormed down the hallway after them.

"You lie on my fresh sheets in your filthy clothes and I'm throwing you back out the window, Guardian or not."

#levihan #snk #my writing #aaaah I didn't know what to do for this but I ended up having a lot of fun!!!

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murderousginger · 3 years

Text

Standing in the Ashes

Angel on Fire part 2

John Shelby x reader

Word count: 3,214

Warnings: They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

You fell into a comfortable silence next to John. His presence was an anchor in the crowded room and it annoyed you to realize it. You sipped your second drink, knowing that you wanted to stay a steady tipsy rather than belligerent. In all honesty, you would have preferred not to drink at all but choosing not to drink caused too many questions. Your nerves could not take it today.

John sat beside you, you both watching the other from the corner of your eye until you had Harry top off your glass. You looked over to John and tilted your head as you raised your glass.

"Been a pleasure," you said as he took a drink from his glass. "But I do believe I have some men to bait and your brother and Isaiah to entertain."

"I doubt there'd be an argument if you stayed sat with me."

You faltered, mouth open as the words swam in your head.

"You're kind, but the silence can't be that entertaining," you stammered. "I'm sure you have business or a missus to get back to. Finn talks about his wild nieces and nephew."

John's eyes softened and he tilted his glass in his hand, watching the whiskey roll about.

"Martha," he said loud enough to carry but only that, "she passed years ago. It's just me, the maid and my children."

"Oh," you dropped your eyes, "I'm sorry."

You weighed in your mind what to say next when his sad eyes flickered and he smiled.

"You can do what you want, (Y/N), I won't stop you," he said as he leaned back. "But my life is fuckin' screaming and chaos, so don't think I can't appreciate two people sitting in comfortable quiet."

You nodded as your lip curled up in a half smile. You gathered your drink, John offering you a quick nod before you disappeared into the fray.

The next hour or two you nursed your drink as you flirted and brought men to the boys, dropping them at the table for a transaction like a dog with a dove. When you sent about a half dozen to Isaiah's friendly and knowing smile, you decided you had done enough and took your seat back at the table.

"Decided to take the night off to snog Michael?" You shot at your friend, who hadn't moved from under Michael's arm all night.

"Don't be jealous, (Y/N)," Isaiah said loudly as he wrapped his arm around you before he pushed his nose through your hair to your ear. "You know they'll tire of each other in a week. Give it time."

You hated getting testy with her but she did this every time. She'd find a boy -- this time none other than Michael Gray -- and she'd lose herself and your friendship as she batted her eyelashes. And a few weeks later when she became bored or he did, she'd come back and be your best friend again. You'd grown frustrated with the cycle. Was she really a best friend if she forgot you so easily?

Just another reason the night scene made you so tired. As much as you adored Isaiah and Finn, none of them were around until the sun went down. No one visited or asked to spend your lunch with you. You only ever saw them under the promise of whiskey and snow and you had grown bored of both.

"Everyone that's not a Shelby or fucking a Shelby, get out of my bar!" Harry bellowed as he whipped a towel above his head to get everyone's attention. "That includes the young Peakys in the corner!"

"Harry I'm a fuckin' Shelby!" Finn yelled back with a laugh, his arms wide.

"When you get hair on your balls, you can stay like your brothers. Til then, out!"

The boys booed as they laughed and finished their drinks, slamming the glasses on the table. You froze as you felt hands wrap around the back of your chair and warm arms touch your back.

"You lot not ready to pack it in?" The familiar voice said behind you. "Tell you what, if you can talk Harry out of a bottle, you can use my kitchen to wind down. Play a round of cards, drink, whatever."

Finn squinted up at his brother from your side as you fought yourself from doing the same. You felt heated with him so close to you. Agitated by his nonchalance at pushing himself into your space.

"You've never offered before," Finn said. "Why now?"

You felt his arms move up against your back as you circled the rim of your glass with your finger.

"Kids are a bit older and your ruckus won't wake them anymore," John said as he leaned down around you to come face to face with his brother. "Pretty sure you could bomb the house and they wouldn't stir. But if you'd rather go sit on a bridge in the cold…"

"A bridge," your friend said as she crinkled her nose at the very thought and leaned further into Michael and whined. "It's so cold out, Michael."

"Then it's settled," Isaiah grinned. "We'll head over to your place, John. Thank you."

"What about you, (Y/N)?" John said, his breath hitting the top of your head. "You haven't said a word."

You shifted in your seat as everyone eyed you. You could still feel John's breath in your hair.

"I do have to work in the morning," you started, earning a groan around the table. "But I suppose I can go for a little bit. I really should be home before dawn, though."

"Relax," Isaiah said as he bumped your shoulder with his and winked. "I'll take you home when you're ready. Get you all tucked in proper for that job of yours in the morning."

You snorted a laugh as you rolled your eyes at him.

"Right," John cleared his throat as he let go of your chair. "I'll see you lot soon, then."

You felt the pressure leave and it made you feel a little colder.

----

You all sat around a small table, passing the bottle around as the boys played some sort of card game. Everyone was too drunk or tired for actual rules, so the game kept changing as it went.

John's kitchen was nice enough. It was mostly clean and had little remnants of the children, a colored wall here, a high chair there. It felt honey with it's white washed walls and cozy atmosphere. You were all just able to fit, a small walkway around the table to be able to access the rest of the house.

John had immediately left once you were all situated, telling Finn to lock up when you were all done. You would be lying if you said you weren't a bit disappointed. Conversation with John was at least tolerable. You settled in, realizing you'd be subjected to more bravado, yelling, and stories of conquest rather than a decent conversation and actual thought.

The boys had drunk about half of the bottle when the room was a loud roar. Finn and Isaiah kept knocking into you, teasing and taunting, as Michael and your friend got closer and closer into their own world across the table. The loud noises and the constant knocking about had set your teeth on edge. You needed away. You stood up and shot a look at your friend.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said pointedly as she tucked into Michael's side.

"So go, then," Michael chortled. "You need an escort?"

You glared at him before looking back at your friend, who wouldn't meet your eye. You sighed.

"Some friend you are," you mumbled as you rolled your eyes and left to go find the bathroom.

It wasn't as hard as you had thought, thankfully. Bedroom doors were closed for the night and the house was covered in toys but otherwise easily figured out.

You went into the bathroom and flicked on a light, looking at your tired eyes in the mirror. No one else seemed to notice the bags under your eyes as of late. To you they shone so clearly, but no one mentioned them once. You shut and locked the door before you closed the toilet lid and sat on it, head in your hands. The roar of your friends was muffled, and for once you felt relief. Quiet.

You splashed your face with cool water, taking one last look in the mirror at your haunted eyes, and walked out only to run into something. Or someone. You looked down to see a small girl in a large white nightgown frowning at you.

"Who are you?" She said groggily as she wiped at her blue eyes.

"Oh!" You stepped aside. "I'm sorry. I'm (Y/N), your um, uncle Finn's friend."

"I'm Katie," she said slowly, eyeing you closely. "Didn't know daddy had comp'ny."

"We're all in the kitchen," you offered as your hands started to fidget. "Did you need the bathroom? Or your dad?"

"I just wanted water," she said as she pointed to the bathroom. "I can get it myself."

"Right," you said as you stepped around her. "Well it was nice to meet you, Katie, I'll get back to the rest now. Sleep well."

"Goodnight Miss (Y/N)," you heard Katie's small voice say behind you as you walked away.

"Goodnight," you said over your shoulder as you disappeared back to the kitchen.

You had known there were kids there, but it didn't occur to you that you could be bothering their sleep. Guilt washed over you as you returned to the kitchen where the noise was a booming roar.

"I want to go home," you crossed your arms as you reached the table. "It's nearly morning and I'd like to sleep. Some of us have work during daylight hours."

"So go," Michael said from behind his cards. "I'll make sure your friend gets home."

"You lot want me to walk home, in the dark, by myself?" You growled.

You looked to each one, your friend hiding her face in the crook of a smirking Michael's arm. Finn and Isaiah both were scratching their heads, staring hard at their cards. For once, the kitchen was silent.

"Fine," you gritted through your teeth. "Some friends you are."

"Oh don't be like that, love," Isaiah said as he grabbed for your wrist. "We're not ready to end the night, that's all. Tell you what, you go snooze on the couch and when we're done I'll come walk you home."

"How generous," you snapped as you twisted your wrist from his grip. "I'll take my chances on the streets. A few hours in my bed before work sounds better than a couch next to a party of loud idiots."

You heard them call to you as you stormed out and slammed the door, but you didn't stop until you were a few steps from the garden gate. The iron gate had been carelessly left open against the short stone walls. You looked at the ivy creeping along the stones as you took a breath and hugged yourself, realizing you had left your coat inside. Your breath formed a cloud in front of you but you frowned when you realized a different cloud was coming from the other side of the stone.

"Do you normally smoke outside of your garden in the wee hours of the morning?" You scowled as you rounded the corner to see John leaning against the wall, one arm wrapped around a propped leg as his hand pulled a cigar from his lips as the other leg lay flat against the ground.

John blew the smoke under the crook of his arm before looking back up at you with his boyish smile.

"Well hello again, beautiful," John eased. "Why, hoping to catch me alone?"

You felt the rush of heat to your face as you looked down and bit your lip for a moment, trying to compose yourself. You finally looked back to him, tapping his foot with your boot.

"No, I was just heading home," you said. "You're avoiding the question, though."

"Maybe I was," he said, sitting up straighter and tapping the ground beside him until you sat. "I figured a house full of kids would alert me if my children decided to come join them. Decided to take the free alarm system for what it was and enjoy a few quiet minutes to myself."

"I shouldn't bother you, then," you said, moving to get back up.

John's arm wrapped around you, rubbing the goosebumps on your shoulder as he pulled the smoke into his mouth.

"I can be myself with you here," he murmured around the cigar. "I'm not the only one that craves quiet."

You started to protest but instead settled under his arm. You watched as the cherry burned bright, illuminated his face in the dark before he pulled the cigar away and let the smoke roll from his mouth, always careful to blow it away from you. You hesitantly reached for the cigar as John went to bring it back up to his lips. He let you take it. You brought the damp end to your lips and puffed lightly.

"Don't breathe in too hard, pet," he chuckled. "It's not a cigarette. You just roll the smoke in your mouth rather than inhale."

You smiled as you handed it back to him before you exhaled.

"I know," you said with the last of the smoke. "Pa used to smoke cigars. He said he only had one on good days, which usually meant a holiday. Pretty sure that's the same kind. I'd know that smell anywhere."

"Your Pa has good taste," John said. "Should have known that by one look at you."

You faltered, unsure what to say to him. You weren't used to the compliments, especially when they weren't paired with a hand grabbing at your skirts. John sounded genuine and it confused you rather than flattered you.

John cleared his throat as he looked around the wall to look back at his door.

"Where's my idiot brother or Isaiah with your coat to walk you home?" John turned back to you as the shadows danced across his face to enhance his knotted brows. "I figured one of them would have been out by now."

"No one's coming for me," you stammered as you moved to stand up. "I forgot my coat when I stormed out."

"You're not walking home alone," John scoffed as he stood with you. "I'll take you if the idiots inside won't."

"You really don't have to," you said shyly. "I wouldn't trust them in your house by themselves, honestly."

You both chuckled.

"Yeah?" John laughed as he put the cigar out on the wall and laid it on the stone. "Probably shouldn't. Finn would just as easily set the place on fire boiling a pot of water."

"I'm taking you home," John said, more serious this time. "I'll go get your coat."

"No," you said quickly as you grabbed his hand before he could step away. "I just…" you let go of his hand as he turned back to you, "I'd rather not have you go after my coat like I tattled. I'm sure they'll pick it up when they leave. I'll grab it from them later."

John sighed, annoyance rattling through his teeth.

"Fine," he said, "but we're taking the car if you have no coat."

"You really don't have to--"

"I do and I am," John said firmly as he took your elbow to lead you around the corner to the garage.

He opened the passenger door for you and you silently slipped inside, rubbing your arm to rid yourself from the goosebumps as he climbed inside the driver's side.

"Thank you," you said quietly as he started the car and made his way down the street.

"You're not a bother, you know?" John chuckled, eyes on the road. "You're so damn polite and you ask for so little, yet you're so surprised if you get it. Just relax. I'm not sure what you're expecting but it ain't me."

You shuffled in your seat, shoving your hands between your legs to warm your fingertips. John frowned over at you, taking your hand in his.

"You're right frozen, aren't you?" He said as he pulled your fingers to his mouth and exhaled warm air on them, leaving a different kind of goosebumps to cover your skin. "Here, hold on."

He slowed the car to a crawl and let you go, wiggling himself out of his coat to hand you the warm wool.

"Oh, I--"

"Just take the damn thing and warm up, yeah?" He said. "How are you this stubborn for help? I've already told you I'm not out to stop you."

"What are you out for?" You said, surprise caught in your throat. You hadn't expected to be able to actually say it. John sighed, tired rather than annoyed.

"I've seen you, (Y/N)," he said, glancing at you as you put on his coat before looking back at the road. "You used to enjoy all this. The tokyo. The alcohol. The long nights. You spun in circles like a top. Now you still spin, but the smile is fake. You've put on a mask."

You froze, your head swimming with thoughts. He noticed? He cared?

"So?"

"So I want to know why," John exhaled. "I want to know you. We aren't that different."

"We aren't?"

"No."

The rest of the ride was silent. John puttered the car down city streets until he reached your flat. You never asked how he knew where it was.

Peaky business, you thought. They know everything.

When he stopped at your curb, you moved to get out of his coat but he waved you off.

"Keep it for the night," John smiled. "I'll trade you for yours another day."

"Thank you, John," you said softly before you turned and got out of the car.

You were halfway up your steps before you heard a car door open and steps thudding toward you. You stopped and turned around to meet John eye to eye.

He had pulled a toothpick out and started biting on it as he smiled at you. You waited in silence as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Um," John said as he looked to his feet and back up at you. "Can I take you somewhere?"

"Where?" You cocked your head, amused by his sudden shyness.

"Well it's a surprise but," he sucked in his cheek, "you said you're working tomorrow, yeah? When's your next day off? We can make a day of it. Or an afternoon, if you'd rather."

"I guess I'm off Saturday," you said slowly. "But I'm usually selling nights on weekends."

"Don't worry about that," John said. "The boys give you trouble, tell 'em I got another job for you. It'll keep 'em off your back. You hate it, I'll bring you home and you can go sell or anything you want. Take a night in, even."

"We can leave anytime I want?" You ask skeptically, watching John's easy smile as he lifted his hands up.

"Blinder's honor."

Masterlist

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #storytime with murderousginger #john shelby #john shelby x reader #isaiah jesus #finn shelby #michael gray

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Eighteen)

Summary: Jack uses his position as a captive of the Secret Empire to gather intel, and he winds up learning more about the elusive Michael Carter.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: References to torture

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen Location: Unknown (Previous Chapter)

Commander Jefferson Williams was the toughest man Jack had ever known, tougher than Chief Dooley and even tougher than his own father. The battle-hardened naval officer had imparted heaps of wisdom onto the countless men under his command during the war, but there was one piece of advice that Jack would never forget as long as he lived:

“OSA, boys, OSA. Observe, situate and adapt. Knowin’ those three things could mean the difference ‘tween life and death out here in the jungle so don’t you ever forget ‘em!”

When he joined the SSR after the war, Jack closely followed Williams’ advice and quickly rose through the ranks, becoming the second in command and eventually Chief of the New York branch. The advice had served him well over the years, but he never imagined in a million years that he’d be using it in a situation like the one he currently found himself in. The last thing he remembered before being knocked unconscious was dealing with the armed guards in the hangar and turning around to see the familiar smirking face of Thomas Attwell. Everything went dark after that, until he found himself blinking his eyes open and biting back a groan of pain.

Observe, Jack thought to himself as he slowly regained consciousness. He was in a darkened mid-sized room and what little light there was reflected off the metal walls; when he glanced down, he realized that he was sitting in a chair and his arms and legs were bound to it with ropes. The raincoat and fedora he’d been wearing were gone, so he could feel the biting air seeping into his limbs.

Situating himself was a little more challenging; the room had no windows, its only door was locked and with all the metal surrounding him, it was impossible to determine the outside weather. Attempting to focus his mind, Jack closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. It was after doing that for a handful of moments that he realized the floor was slightly shaking; like the floor of a subway car, he silently realized, or a moving train.

Before Jack could move to the third step, an overhead light flickered on and the metal door banged open to reveal two men and a woman. Dottie Underwood was smirking, presumably amused at seeing the man who’d once taken her down strapped to a chair and defenseless, and Thomas Attwell was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, making it clear to the self-described interrogation master of the SSR that he’d be getting a taste of his own medicine. But it was the man standing in front of them that Jack’s attention was instantly drawn to.

It was the first good look Jack had gotten of Michael Carter and while he was once again struck by just how much he looked like his little sister, he was even more surprised at how easy it was to get a read on him. Having hung around Peggy for as long as he had, he could tell when she was scheming and as he stared up into her older brother’s eyes, he knew in his gut that Michael was up to something.

The moment passed in the blink of an eye and Michael stepped further into the room, a hardened expression on his face. “So, you’re the Jack Thompson I’ve heard so much about.”

“And you’re Michael Carter.” Jack smirked a little despite his dire situation. “You’re lookin’ good for a dead guy.” He looked past Michael and raised a brow at his two companions. “Can’t say the same about your Commie pals, though.”

“Aw, I’ve missed you too, Blue Eyes.” With a wide smile, Underwood strode into the room and leaned against the wall beside him. “Surprised to see me?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders as best he could. “Not really. Vultures like you always tend to hang around rot like them.”

“Charming. Well, Chief Thompson, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here with us vultures,” Attwell’s narrowed eyes searched Jack’s, but he didn’t flinch under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. “And if you’re not, then you’re as arrogant of a man as Agent Cabrera claimed you were.”

Agent Cabrera’s the spy within the SSR, Jack thought with a sinking heart, his face remaining blank while his mind processed the shocking news; Cabrera had joined the SSR shortly after they’d apprehended Johann Fennhoff and he’d proven himself to be a skilled agent, so skilled that Jack had appointed him Acting Chief while he was away in Los Angeles. When it was revealed that the Secret Empire had a spy within the SSR, Jack hadn’t even considered that one of his best men back in New York was an enemy operative.

Attwell’s brow rose in surprise and he let out a low whistle. “Nothing? You’ve really got a lid on those emotions of yours, don’t you?” He glanced over at Michael with a smirk. “Perhaps he’ll talk if we pay a visit to Agent (Y/L/N) instead…”

Jack’s blood ran cold at the man’s taunt about (Y/N) but before he could react, Michael snapped, “If you and Underwood had done your jobs properly, then there wouldn’t be any need to worry about that. But no matter, Chief Thompson may prove to be useful on his own.” Turning back to Jack, Michael crossed his arms over his chest and continued. “We have it on good authority that you recently came into possession of a rather unique Arena Club pin. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack lied with ease; naturally, he wasn’t going to tell them that the pin had been in Peggy’s possession since before his shooting. With a tilt of his head, Jack asked, “What’s your little Secret Empire want with an Arena Club member pin anyway? You guys fixin’ on joining up with what’s left of the Council of Nine?”

“The Council of Nine was a collection of frightened old men playing at being in power and thanks to Miss Underwood here, their feeble-minded organization’s been destroyed beyond repair.” Michael replied, his expression unreadable as he continued. “Nevertheless, that group of geriatric capitalists held the key to the unification of the Secret Empire and Leviathan and now that they’re gone, there’s nothing to stand in our way…except you. So I’ll ask you again, Chief Thompson: Where is the Arena Club pin?”

Jack’s eyes never left Michael’s as he frostily replied, “I. Don’t. Know.”

Nodding, Michael glanced over at Underwood and gestured towards the door. “Miss Underwood, would you be kind enough to inform your associates that we’re en route?”

“And miss all the swell fun here?” Underwood smirked. “Oh, not a chance.”

“Would you prefer that I contact them instead and inform them that their disobedient operative’s refused to comply?” Attwell challenged, and the grin on Underwood’s face slowly faded; shooting the man a dirty look, Underwood strode out of the small room and Attwell closed the door behind her. “She’s becoming a challenge to control.”

“Once we finally join with Leviathan, she won’t be our problem anymore.” Looking back down at Jack, Michael quirked a brow and smiled. “Now, Agent Cabrera made mention of the fact that you’re considered to be a highly-skilled interrogator at the SSR; he also said that you’d prove to be ‘a tough nut to crack.’ Let’s put that to a test, shall we?”

As Thomas Attwell’s fist made contact with Jack’s jaw, the last thing that flashed through his mind before the pain was (Y/N)’s beautiful smile.

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

Jack wasn’t sure how long his interrogation lasted, or even how he’d ended up out of his chair and sprawled on the floor of the room; all he could think about was the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. His left eye was beginning to swell shut, his jaw felt like raw meat, the blood dripping from his nostrils had finally ebbed…and that’s just what they did to his face. Attwell had held some sort of device to his neck that sent painful waves of electrical currents throughout his body, more painful than anything Jack had ever experienced in his life. The only thing giving him the strength to endure it all was (Y/N) and as his head sagged forward, all he could do was be grateful that they’d gotten ahold of him and not her.

“Shall we continue, or should we give Chief Thompson a chance to catch his breath?”

“We’ll let his wounds begin to heal and then continue where we left off. That should give us enough time to begin tracking down Agent (Y/L/N); it’s become apparent that he requires more…incentive to talk.”

With all the strength he had left, Jack raised his head and spat out, “You touch her and I’ll kill you both.”

Both men looked unfazed by his threat, and Michael leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll watch him while you and Underwood contact her fellow operatives back in England.” Attwell looked as though he was about to argue, but Michael quickly cut him off with a sharp glare. “This is a result of your blunder Thomas, so it’s your responsibility to fix it. We need that key to solidify our relationship with Leviathan and to give them the weapon they desire; otherwise, this all will have been for nothing.”

They stared at one another for several moments before Attwell clenched his jaw and stormed out of the room. Michael watched him go with a look of indifference on his face but when the door slammed shut, his expression twisted for a split-second before relaxing.

In that moment, all the pieces finally fell into place for Jack; the gunshot in the office of The Palladium, the door banging open and then slamming shut…all loud noises that occurred right before the cracks in Michael’s tough façade. It’s gotta be some sort of trigger, Jack thought through the haze of pain, which means that he really was brainwashed. Before joining the SSR, a notion like that would’ve made him scoff but now, something as crazy as mind-control wasn’t just theoretical, it was highly probable. With a plan forming in his mind, Jack let his body go slack on the floor and his eyelids begin fluttering.

“It would seem that Agent Cabrera was mistaken about you, Chief Thompson,” Through his lashes, Jack watched Michael snort in derision and push himself off of the wall. “You’re weak. Simple-minded, too, if you believe that we won’t succeed in making you talk.” He knelt down beside Jack and smirked. “Perhaps when Agent (Y/L/N) arrives, we’ll-”

Jack lunged forward, tackling a surprised Michael to the ground and grabbing a fistful of his dark brown hair before slamming his head down onto the ground; the man’s eyes were unfocused as his face tightened in discomfort and as Jack watched, his expression slowly shifted from anger to confusion. Still cautious, he didn’t stop pinning Michael to the ground as he commanded, “Tell me who you are!”

“Michael…Michael Carter, SOE.” Michael’s brow furrowed and he squeezed his eyes closed as he grimaced. “Thank God you cracked my codes in time. Please, I don’t know how long this’ll last so-”

“Not until I know which Michael I’m talking to…What’s the reason why your sister was almost expelled from boarding school?”

Michael’s brown eyes opened and the ghost of a smile slowly stretched across his face. “Peggy…Peggy was caught stealing the headmaster’s brandy and his wife’s knickers. Mother and Father were livid, but I secretly gifted her a congratulatory bottle of brandy that Christmas.”

Satisfied with his answer, Jack staggered to his feet and stifled a wince of pain. “You can’t read that in a file.”

“Is Peggy all right? She’s still in America?” Jack nodded and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ve been trying to keep regular tabs on her for months now, but it’s been a challenge to hide my work from the others and…well, myself.”

He didn’t take his eyes off of the man sprawled on the ground before him, wary of any kind of treachery. “What happened to you during the war?”

“In 1940, the SOE ordered me to infiltrate Hydra; they faked my death, gave me a new identity but I was found out in ’44. My…” Michael groaned, clutching the side of his head as he stood. “My university flatmate’s brother, Thomas, he was a Hydra operative; he let their scientists experiment on me, scrambling my brain so that I’d become their mindless killing machine with no memories of my old life.”

Jack, whose eyes had begun darting around the room for an escape route, looked back at the dark-haired man with a frown. “Why not just kill you instead?”

“Hydra needed every human test subject they could get their hands on. Whatever they did to my mind worked at first, but then cracks began to form and I started remembering who I really was; I hid my condition from my fellow operatives for a year, right up until Hydra fell to Captain America and the SSR.”

“And what about the Secret E-?”

“We don’t have time to waste on explanations, Chief Thompson!” Michael cut him off, his jaw clenching as his hands rubbed at his temples. “If you found our airfield in Kent then you must’ve already located my file at the SFC, so listen carefully: inside the file is a code written in invisible ink. Have Agent (Y/L/N) decode it as quickly as she can, everything you need to know is within it. I-” Crying out in pain, the man doubled over and Jack hurried to his side; Michael’s eyes were squeezed shut as he spoke through clenched teeth, “My control…slipping away, we have…we have moments at best…a dream…visions, light, cheered, night, dream.”

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion at the randomness of his words. “What-?”

“Destroy the key…destroy Zodiac…” His eyes flew open, and Jack was struck by how frightened they were as their gaze met. “Tell Peg that I…I’m…” He cried out again and fell to the ground, his hands clutching the sides of his head. “Go, now!”

Giving Michael one final look, Jack turned and flung open the door, darting out and shutting it as quietly as he could behind him. Shockwaves of pain coursed throughout his body as he limped across the train car, but just as he reached for the control panel to open the sliding divider door, he stopped himself; continuing on through the rest of the train would surely alert everyone on board and in no time, he’d either be strapped back into that wooden chair or he’d be dead. Looking up, he breathed a sigh of relief when his eyes landed on an overhead hatch; he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in pain as he began climbing up onto a wooden crate and once he reached the top, he opened the hatch and hoisted himself up.

The shooting pain in Jack’s body nearly made him black out but he pushed through it, moving to sit on the roof of the train and kicking the hatch closed. Taking in the snow-covered trees and vivid white banks flanking both sides of the train, he deduced that they were traveling through Eastern Europe; Michael did mention that they were meeting up with Leviathan, he silently reasoned, which means that we’re somewhere in Russia. Wasting no time, Jack peeked over the side of the train and felt a surge of adrenaline when he caught sight of the large snow bank up ahead.

“Three…two…one…now!” He rolled off the speeding train and fell into the powdery snow below, groaning in pain as he slowly sat up and watched the train vanish into the distance. “Observe, situate and adapt, Thompson, c’mon.” He clambered to his feet and moved to stand behind a nearby tree as he followed the first step; the sun was sitting high in the sky, shining through the tree branches and reflecting off of the snowy landscape surrounding him. It was cold, much colder than inside the train, and he knew that once the sun set he’d be even colder; his suspicion about being somewhere in Russia was confirmed when he breathed in through his nose and smelled fish in the air, instantly recalling Peggy Carter’s words from so long ago…

“Do you know what the smell of herring in the air means in the middle of a Belarusian summer?”

“Mmm, someone’s having a fish fry?”

“It means that there’s wind blowing in from the Baltic, it means a snowstorm in July, and if you can smell the wind it means that you have thirty minutes to find shelter and build a fire before you die of hypothermia in the morning…”

“What the hell’s it mean in the winter, though?” Jack wondered aloud, his brow furrowing in worry. Knowing that time was running out, he quickly removed his standard-issue SSR wristwatch and twisted its face off to reveal the compass hidden underneath. He held it flat on his palm and watched as the compass needle moved to find north, an insane plan involving the nearest friendly village with a telephone and the infamous Howling Commandos already beginning to form in his mind.

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

A/N: This was a challenging chapter to write, not gonna lie, I couldn’t bring myself to actually write the torture scene because I got nauseated every time I tried so I’m sorry about that, but I hope you still enjoyed it! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Nineteen-Part One

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #michael carter #dottie underwood #the howling commandos #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

Text

Yandere Octavinelle Turns Into Babies Headcanons

Requested by the lovely @minteasketches . I’m not super happy with how it turned out, nevertheless I hope you enjoy it, darling.

🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚 🐚

Azul Ashengrotto

It was supposed to be a simple spell. "Something to strengthen the contracts with" was what your self proclaimed lover and currant kidnapper had declared.

Personally, you didn't really care, it was far too early to be awake and worrying about contracts and potions and whatnot. But sadly as part of a deal, you had made all so long ago, your soul had become fused with Azul's. Where he went, you went.

And he wanted to be in his office at the Mostro Lounge at bloody 6 am!

So here you, lounging on a decorative sea shell-like chair that Azul had bought you. Eyes dropping only to be shot back open from the chiming of potion bottles. Your brain was foggy, dreary even. Dreaming of Azul's soft mattress and warm blankets. The fluffy pillows cradling your head as you escaped your cruel reality.

You would have sworn that you'd only closed your eyes for a minute. A measly sixty seconds, but that was enough time for everything to go downhill.

Something hit the ground, sending a crackling noise echoing through the room. a mere moment later some forging high pitch cry reverberated off the powder purple walls.

Looking around in a panic-induced daze your eyes landed on something shuffling around under Azul's clothes...

Wait! Under Azul's clothes?

It didn't take long to realize what had happened.

Slowly pushing the fabrics aside you came face to face with a tiny octo-boy.

To your utter horror, he looked like he was gasping for air, waving his arms around as his cries turned into desperate heaving.

Lifting the poor thing up you looked around trying to find some sort of nearby water source to put the boy in. Luckily the table in the center of the room had water underneath a thin sheet of glass. Shoving the glass to one side you clumsily ducked Azul into the liquid.

The tiny octopus slowly slumped into the water laying down on his back so to breathe properly. Fully submerging his body in the aqua liquid.

As the adrenaline wore down, you began to notice just how cute and also innocent the small thing looked as he half-heatedly blew bubbled from his mouth.

It was hard to believe that the manipulative man that had imprisoned you, stripped you of your precious freedom, could be, was actually at some point in his life just a defenseless baby. He looked so angelic, so sweet.

Nervously you bite your lip, trying to find a more suitable aquarium for the little white-haired baby.

Just as you were about to push your self to your feet, a tiny tentacle reached out from the shallow water, wrapping itself gently against your finger.

The tiny gesture warmed your heart in such a way you never thought Azul capable of.

Breathing out a sigh You plucked one of the decorative starfish form the makeshift pool, holding it above Azul's head and watching as he tried to reach for it.

For now, you were content with keeping the baby occupied. Jade and Floyd could deal the reversing the spell later. Maybe for today, all you had to do was play around with the tiny little thing before it turned back into the monster, present in each of your nightmares.

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

Jade Leech

Some rumors about mushrooms with "mystical properties" that grew in the enchanted forest were circling the school.

Surely it was a myth started by some bored teacher or mischievous student.

Nevertheless Jade has declared that he wanted to see these mushrooms firsthand. That would be the very reason you where both hiking through the forest, getting bitten by countless mosquitoes, as branches and stray roots cut into your skin.

"How much longer" the poor darling wined as you slumped against a nearby tree gasping for air.

The "nicer" twin responded with a simple wave of his hand and breathless murmuring that sounded slightly like "Almost there"

"Almost there" turned into another hour of trailing through the endless greenery. Until the two of you came to a clearing illuminated by the rogue rays of the sun.

Huddled together, growing row after row was, sure enough, a patch of those infamous mushrooms.

Jade's eyes started to sparkle, gleaming at the fungi, in a matter of seconds he was running towards them, long forgetting his "beloved"

Just as the eel boy reached out to pluck one of the mushrooms, something bizarre began to occur.

The clearing faded into a puffy white light, almost like a mushroom cloud had erupted.

acting on instinct you shield your face with your arms. Your mind rushed, trying to understand what was happening.

Splitting your eyes open to peak at your surroundings. You scanned the clearing attempting to locate Jade, but to your surprise, he was nowhere in sight.

A part of you wanted to run away. If you could just remember the path that led here than there was a good chance you could get away from Jade.

Just as you were about to take off, you heard a faint noise in the distance. Something like the cooing of bird or...the wails of an infant.

You gulped, carefully stepping over to where the noise was coming from. Peering behind the mushrooms you noticed a tiny blob of teal rolling around. For a second you didn't believe your eyes. As you got closer to the tiny thing it began to look more and more like an infant, and infant that resembled Jade!

Sure you weren't Jade's biggest fan, you despised him, to say the least, but...this was just a child. Defenseless and rolling around on the grass. The moment his mismatched eyes landed on you, the tiny eel began gooing and gaing. Extending his arms, reaching out to you trying to gain some affection.

Picking him up and cradling him close to your chest, you watched as the baby moray eel, wrapped his small tail around your wrist.

despite the slimy cold feeling it left, you couldn't help but smile and wiggle your index finger close to his face.

"Come on Jade, let's get you home. Maybe Azul can find a way to get you back to normal...or hopefully not"

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Floyd Leech

It all started with Floyd acting out during Alchemy class

"These recipes are too boring! Shrimpy hand me that pink liquid over there! Oh Oh and the green one too!"

Sure you tried to stop him...but really what can stand in Floyd's way when he's in one of his "moods"

Floyd went ahead mixing the pink sweet-smelling liquid and the glowing green one into the base component that Professor Crewel had provided.

Nothing….

For a few moments, all seemed peaceful. Floyd's face morphed into a frown as he glared daggers at the rotten looking liquid.

Slowly some bubbles started to form on the surface, popping the moment they breathed out the liquid container.

Floyd's face started to light up, he craned his head closer to the liquid.

"Shrimpy-chan look! It's changing colo-"

A loud booming noise filed the room. Screams and shouts of terror and shock soon joined the fray.

A thick smoke hovered over the classroom, so dense that one could barely see in front of them.

Somewhere, someone opened a window. Permitting the fog to escape, evaporating as it slithered out of the classroom.

Crewel's voice boomed around the room. "FLOYD LEECH!!"

But to everyone's surprise, there wasn't a sound...heck Floyd wasn't even there!

You slightly turned your head to the side. Gaze flickering over Floyd's empty seat. As your sight shifts lower, you notice a tiny little baby, sitting where Floyd had been moments ago.

Letting out a little laugh you pick up the tiny eel baby. squealing and almost dropping him as he wraps around your wrist trying to bite your hand.

"Floyd stop it!" All eyes turn towards you, gasping at the little "serpent" trying to ripe off a chunk of your flesh.

Good job (L/N), you found...well a tiny version of Floyd." Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Crewel turned to face the class. "Class dismissed! I have to work on a potion to get that little puppy back to his normal self...or whatever he was before!"

The rest of the students swiftly leave the room. Leaving behind a crying baby Floyd, an angry-looking Crewel and poor little you, who was desperately trying to clam the baby down.

Seeing no other options you wagged your pinky finger close to Floyd's mouth. Flinching as he harshly bit down.

Sure it was painful but it kept him quiet.

It took some time to put together a tiny aquarium for the little devil as well as make a potion for him.

The sun had long since set, you laid your head on your desk watching the tiny Floyd swim around. Everything felt so unusually serene. Your eyes felt heavy, closing on there own accord. The moonlight cast a chilling glow over your unconscious form.

"W-wa-wake! Swimpy, Wake!" You cracked one of your eyes open to notice the small child splashing some water on you. His head risen over the edge of the aquarium.

"I'm up Floyd" you murmured. Steadily you pulled the small aquarium to yourself. Caging it between your arms and resting your head against the class.

Right before your eyes closed once more, sleep overtaking, you noticed Floyd resting his head against the glass and shutting his little eyes too.

"Night, night Swimpy"

🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈

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hewwocopter · 3 years

Text

As Fate Would Have It

MK has doubts about his soulmate, but he’s certain that it’ll work out for the best.

Until he meets him.

On Ao3 (2112 words)

Soulmates were thought highly of in society.

Their customs were normally respected. If one wanted to cover their soulmark with an article of clothing, so be it. It was for the owner’s eyes only.

It had led MK to cover his right wrist with a bandana not unlike his headband.

He knew what it said. Many nights had his fingers traced over the words, longing to hear his soulmate’s voice. Even if they were to yell at him.

Because, he presumed, that was probably what they were going to do, considering the nature of his sentence.

He laid in his bed, fiddling with the bandana. It had been a long day at work today, and it was still slightly damp from the sweat his arms had accumulated from noodle deliveries.

Ah, well.

MK slipped the band off, already knowing what he would see.

Get off me, you idiot!

What gratifying first words, right?

It seemed as though their relationship would have a rocky start. MK knew this, he was fine with it.

He was good at getting people to open up, Pigsy proved that fact. What once was a grumpy pig who nearly called the cops on MK for being too rambunctious in the streets…

Well…

Now he was a grumpy pig man who had hired that rambunctious street child. When the man saw that MK needed a place, he took him in.

So yeah, MK could probably handle his soulmate. Plus, they were his soulmate- the one destined for him. So they would eventually like each other, even if they started off hating each other, right?

There was always that small voice in the back of his head that told him to doubt. That no matter what, his soulmate would reject him. They would hate him. That his strength was also his weakness. MK’s energy was just too much, he was way too over the top.

But he had to keep hope. He seared that sentence into his brain, knowing that they were out there. That they were alive, and that there was hope.

…Probably.

A yawn edged its way up his throat, causing MK to stretch and fall back into his bed.

He’d just have to see how it went, he supposed. MK had no way of knowing for certain.

Deciding that his energy was best spent on sleeping instead of debating with himself, he set his Monkey King themed alarm clock to its usual time and slipped under the blankets, his eyes quickly sliding shut.

—

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

MK’s arms wobbled dangerously as he balanced precariously on the pipes of the sewer system.

Maniacal laughter echoed from beneath him, as green smoke erupted from the mountain. The Demon Bull King had been freed.

Son of a…

If his life were a show, this definitely would qualify as one of those record-scratch-freeze-frame moments, saying ‘hey, you’re probably wondering how I got here’.

He knew damn well how he got here. He was delivering noodles like a good delivery boy, although he was supposed to be on his break, which also begged the question:

Who ordered noodles in a sewer?! Where were the construction workers?!

How was he holding on this long?!

Although MK was surprised he hadn’t lost his grip yet.

The strange bird glanced over at him again, with a mischievous glint in its golden eyes.

His luck had been pushed to the limit with that last thought, it seemed.

He glowered, but wasn’t about to give up yet. MK waved the bird off. “No, shoo, go away!”

It hopped closer despite his warnings.

MK’s eyes only widened as what happened before him transpired in slow motion. The bird bent down and began to peck.

The incessant poking at his hand causing his grip to falter, and MK to become more panicked. Before he could shoo the bird away, he finally lost his grip and-

“No, no, no- aaaaaaaaugh!”

MK slipped.

Luckily his twenty to thirty foot fall was softened by his landing, which was on top of- oh, oh shit. He was going to die.

Before he could properly process that reaction, the giant Demon Bull King stomped up to him.

Their eyes gleamed an eerie green, casting a dark shadow onto his surroundings.

In this sort of situation, seeming it was a live or die one of the sort, MK decided he should probably de-escalate it. He let out a nervous chuckle, and lifted the noodle bag.

“Someone ordered some noodles?”

There was an awkward pause, as the villains stared at him, seemingly not expecting that reaction- they probably thought he’d be terrified- which he was, but sometimes his stupidity outweighed his sensibility.

A low growling rumbled from beneath, and MK flinched as the boy under him began to struggle, his hair flickering with flames.

“Get off me, you idiot!”

MK’s heart stopped, but only for a moment as he was sent flying and it was thumping wildly once more. While it was because of the actions occurring at the moment, what the boy- Red- had said also had a part in it.

Did he just-?

The boy tumbled to the ground, grunting.

“Do you know what you just did?” He turned to face MK fully, snarling. “You ruined my moment!”

MK could hardly process what the family was saying. Red Son- that was his name, probably- he had said what was on his wrist.

That right there was his soulmate.

He blinked, as a shadow was suddenly cast over him. MK visibly shrunk back as he saw that DBK was about to squish him, oh dear gods. All because he had zoned out over…

Speaking of. The boy slid in front of him, halting his father’s murder in progress. Thank goodness.

“Wait, father.” Red Son placed a hand on DBK’s heel, nudging him away.

MK’s eyes widened at the sight. Was he sparing him?

Then another stuttering thought.

Did he know?

He hadn’t said anything to the boy, had he? All he had done was scream so far.

“What is this?”

“Waste not your energy on this peasant. Please, allow me to show you how powerful I have become in your absence!”

MK drooped, and he nearly face-palmed. Great, so now my soulmate is going to kill me!

“As you wish.”

Well, fuck this. MK was going to escape, call the cops, then buy ice cream and cry over the fact that his soulmate was a villain. That probably hated him, considering the fact he was going to kill him.

MK turned away slowly, and began crawling away. Only halting at the sound of Red Son’s voice, internally cursing himself that he was caught.

“In some ways, you’re very fortunate, noodle boy.” Now Red Son was smiling, and were those fangs?

Oh gods, that was hot.

The thought ran through his mind a few more times before MK realized what it was, his face flaring red before he could stop it.

Are you kidding me?! Evil soulmate who hates me, and now I go and think he’s hot?!

No, no, he could not let himself get attracted to that. MK rapidly accelerated his inching away, only backwards now, only to bump into a pole, now lying discarded on the concrete.

A voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth of what it really was.

Monkey King’s staff…?

“Not many insects are lucky to be stamped out by the Demon Bull family-“ His eyes narrowed, probably at the boy’s expression which by now was a deep cherry red. “Are you even listening to me?!”

Yes and no. Red Son’s voice had no right being that hot, smoky yet matter of fact. But MK was too distracted by the staff, as well as escaping to properly pay attention to what he was articulating.

Where had these feelings even come from…?

The boy growled. “I, Red Son, will not be disrespected! You’re history!”

He raised his gauntlet, igniting it with his flames and rushed towards the delivery boy who was still stuck in his internal panic. MK’s eyes snapped up as he realized just what was going on.

Oh fuck-

MK instinctively grabbed the first thing near him- the staff- and raised it in front of him as his defense.

A loud clanging noise echoed throughout the chambers, along with a huge gust of wind.

“N-no way.” MK’s eyes peeked open upon hearing the other’s disbelief at him not being dead. “How could you possibly lift Monkey King’s staff?!” Red Son backed away from him, eyes wary but wide.

MK could only stare at the staff in awe, nothing else registering in his brain.

Red Son stammered. “I- I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m about to end it! That staff is mine!”

MK was snapped out of his trance at the appearance of the Bull clones and DBK. He let out a little whimper- one villain he could take on but fifty?! “I’m supposed to be on my breeEEEAAK!”

He swung the staff in a wide arc, a golden light erupting from the motion towards the enemies.

Through the brightness, MK saw Red Son’s expression pale, although that could have been the light. His mouth was slack jawed, eyes wide, and then he was struck with the incredible power of the staff, sent flying.

The bull clones retreated, but the superiors managed to stay standing. Oh crap, I just managed to piss off a bunch of powerful villains. I’m so dead.

“Aah,” He stumbled for an explanation, “That was way more explosive than I expected.” He then coughed, some of the soot (?) from the explosion (?!) having found its way onto his face.

A thud from Princess Iron Fan’s weapon caused the boy to jump. From her expression, he could tell that the woman was not happy.

MK gulped, and began to thrust the staff around wildly, hoping to scare her off. “Stay back! I don’t know how I’m doing this stuff!”

“That staff doesn’t belong to you, little boy. Hand it over.” Like a chiding mother to her child, the woman then held her hand out expectantly. Like she was expecting him to comply.

For a split-second, he considered it. Then promptly threw that thought out the window, because one- these people were villains, two- they were probably going to kill him either way, and three- it was Monkey King’s staff, how could he give it away?!

So MK wasn’t going to comply.

He grasped the staff protectively, holding it up against his cheek. “Mmm… no…?”

That was the moment when the staff chose to wobble, sticking itself into the ground which was absolutely not of MK’s volition that time. “Okay, I didn’t even move that ti-“

The next moment he was up in the air, the staff carrying him away, and all he could do was scream.

—

Red Son pushed some rubble off of himself, his mind still reeling.

“I’m supposed to be on my breeEEEAAK!”

The words replayed in his mind, although they were uttered only a few seconds ago. As Red rubbed at his head, still sore from where he had hit it against the wall, his eyes narrowed in thought.

He couldn’t believe it. The one who plagued his thoughts, the one whose words were written on his left shoulder… it was that stupid noodle boy?!

Son of a bitch.

Fate would have it be this way.

Red had to go after him. One, to beat the everloving shit out of the boy and get the staff. Two, to demand to know why it was him. Why the gods had chosen that stupid idiot for him.

Red Son didn’t need anyone. He had himself and his intelligence, and he deemed that enough. It would get him where he needed to be.

Red Son also wasn’t an idiot. He was a facts person, that much was true. He ran on logic, feelings were just icky and out of place. Predetermined love? Yeah, fuck that. He was his own person, Red Son didn’t need anyone to tell him who to love.

But he had to know.

Noodle Boy had answers.

He halted his father once more, who was in the middle of intensely describing how he would skin the noodle boy alive. “Father, allow me. I won’t fail you a second time.”

“See that you don’t.” He snarled. “My patience is past its end!”

“Of course, father.” Red Son vanished into a plume of fire, only to appear at his vehicle. He quickly hopped in and sped after the boy, already getting a reading on him on his radar.

He was going to get his answers, one way or another.

#d-does this count for red son week??????#Monkie kid #writing #MK #Sun Wukong #Red Son #spicynoodleshipping #soulmates #one shot #unedited #cussing #humor #(?!)#posted 6/21/21 #hewwo writes

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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years

Text

Moth to Flame

Chapter 17

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot That is Rapidly Getting Out of Hand Dear God Why Please Help Me

Warnings: Complicated Morality, Lots of Stockholm Syndrome, Addiction, Possessiveness, Vampires (Reference to Biting, Blood-Sucking and Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

Previous Masterlist Next

You reach up to thread your fingers through Yoongi’s hair, scrubbing out the sweat, the dirt, the grime, and replacing it with a gently scented shampoo. He makes a criminally contented grunt deep in his throat and leans into your touch. His own hands pause in their attentive cleaning of your shoulders and collarbone. The water is warm around you, not too hot or too cold; comfort raining down on your bodies. Your leg and neck ache slightly, especially where your new marks throb, but it’s a feeling you welcome. You missed it.

“You sure you feel okay?” he mumbles, squinting at you with one eye against a stream dripping down his forehead.

“I’m sure.”

“You have to tell me if you’re gonna pass out. You’ll break your skull on the tile.”

“I promise.”

When your fingers curl around his ears, his eyes flutter closed and you snort quietly through your nose. Even though the both of you are naked, there’s no sexuality at this moment. Something is...so incredibly human about this. Washing each other off, surrounded by gentle water and the scent of wet, clean bodies. There’s a spark of electricity that passes through you when he lathers up your torso, palms drifting to your belly, up over your breasts, but it’s probably a good idea that you don’t try anything in the shower. He has a point. The tiling has the potential to be a serious problem if you slipped and fell into it.

“Yoongi,” you say after a moment. He hums, distracted, rubbing wide circles into your tits. They’ll be the cleanest part of you when the shower is over.

“I was thinking.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. Do you know if there’s any...any footage?”

He pauses. His lips purse thoughtfully. Sniffs once.

“Not this time,” he says finally, flippant, “But next time I could set something up—”

You push at his hands with a scoff. They hover inches from your chest like he’s forgotten about them. “I don’t mean a sex tape!”

“Why not? Taehyung used to have these really nice cameras—”

“ Yoongi—”

He slinks closer, leg sneaking between yours, a teasing grin pulling at his mouth. He reaches to brace himself on the wall behind you, leaning further into your space. “—not usually one for that kind of thing but I’d be willing to try it once.”

“Yoongi.”

“Put on a good show.” Yoongi’s voice has dipped lower into a rumble, his head craning to plant a searing kiss against your jawline. “For you. If you wanted.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you insist, refusing to be distracted.

He hesitates again.

“Yeah,” his tongue flits to lick at his lips habitually. He squints back up. “Yeah, I figured.”

“I meant of the...The hit and run.”

“There’s probably footage of it somewhere.”

“I want to see it. I want—” you swallow, hard, but there is a determination that has latched deeper, more firmly onto your heart.. “I want to know about it.”

He doesn’t answer that for a moment, instead starting to help you rinse off in silence. He’s obviously turning things about in his head as he guides the water over your skin, your hair.

“I get that.” he says. “Kind of. But you know it doesn’t change anything. What happened is what happened.”

“It isn’t ‘what happened’,” you reply. “It’s what I did. Even if I don’t remember. I want to know.”

He nods, once, but his expression doesn’t change.

He reaches behind himself to shut the water off, scooting past you awkwardly to step out. He grabs a towel off the side and passes it forwards, tossing his hair out of his eyes to peer at you. You take it from his grip, rubbing your body down.

“You know they’re gonna be pissed that I bit you,” he changes the topic, his stare caught by the bite at your thigh.

“Hypocrites. Besides, it wasn’t your fault.” You wrap the fabric over your chest with an absent huff. “I was the one who started it.”

His jaw sets at that, and he looks away. His head bounces. As you step out, he’s wiping himself off with a towel of his own, throwing it over his head and rubbing at his hair.

“I still can’t believe you’re okay,” he adds, slightly muffled. “That doesn’t seem right.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just used to it.”

He straightens, peering at you with a grimace equal parts disbelieving and impressed. “Can you do that?”

You shrug again, more exaggerated. “I guess!”

Just as you move towards the door, head already spinning with half-formed ideas and plans, Yoongi speaks up again.

“What do you think it’s going to change?”

Your feet halt, digging briefly into the rug by the sink. You cast a look over your shoulder, eyeing him as he pulls the towel around his hips. The expression he levels your way reminds you a startling amount of Hoseok—when he’s talking about the person he was before. Earnest. Real, afraid, even. Someone just as confused as you. Dark, steady eyes watch you from underneath strands of wet hair. He looks good now, though, his skin soft and his face clear.

“If you learned everything about who you used to be,” he adds, quiet. “Would that change who you are now?”

“What do you care?”

His eyes widen slightly, lips parting.

“What do you care?” you repeat, shocked by the steadiness of your voice. “Who am I now?”

“I...I don’t know.” Comes the hushed response.

The atmosphere crackles, and your mouth sets into a line without your input. “Then no. Nothing will change for you.”

“Then—”

Here, now, you feel incredibly unclouded for a change. The shower, the haze and addiction quieted, a moment of respite; like vinegar cutting through dust to reveal your own reflection. It feels natural to tighten your shoulders, reaffirm the stance of your feet.

“If I change, maybe it’ll be for me, Yoongi. Maybe I want to make a choice . For once.”

The hallway is empty when you sneak through it, heading back towards your room for new clothes, leaving Yoongi to his sullied bedsheets and his solitude. You’d originally planned to use his phone to seek out news sources and such, but that end to your conversation has put something of a damper on your relationship for the time being, you think. Once again, it occurs to you how little you know these men. Really know. Understand, even. As you get dressed, the fabric of your shirt rubs at your neck and you find yourself scratching absently at it, still frowning into the mirror. Once upon a time, a bite mark at your neck had needed bandaging and managing for days. This one seems to have clotted, scabbed, in record time. It’ll be healed within a couple days.

I don’t know.

Yeah. You, either. But who you were is as good a place to start as any to finding out.

You need something with Internet access. There’s no phones, no computers, in your room, but you’ve seen at least Jin and Joon with phones—it’s a safe bet that most if not all of them have their own devices. And with all seven of them being in the same house now, it’ll be hard to avoid running into at least one willing to let you commandeer it for a sec or two.

You step outside your room, casting a glance about the now-familiar hallway. The strange portraits stare back at you, the faux-old electrical lights flickering at intermediate beats. A hotel for an amusement park, you recall with a slight chuckle. There must have been an immense effort in making this whole place look the part. One that Jin seems to have inherited and maintained, however long they’ve been here. The thought makes you grin. ‘Vampire’, as a title, definitely comes with some steep demands in the name of upholding aesthetic. Despite the details. One of the portraits has a moustache splashed on with neon-green paint, and it kind of ruins the mysterious vibe.

The carpet muffles your steps as you walk, unable to shrug the feeling of being strangely naked. This is the first time you’ve walked this way entirely of your own accord. When you reach the stairs, you slide your palm against the banister, gazing at the wide doors at the foot of the steps. How far would you get? Before someone caught you? Before your own hunger kicked in and you circled back for a re-up on vampire bites? You hesitate, caught in place by the watchful eye of the outside, the moonlight filtering through the topmost window.

You don’t have to deny it forever. The concept of freedom. You’ll shelve it for now. Until it’s convenient for you. Until it’s plausible, and final. Until nobody would come after you. Hoseok said that he’d help you out if you wanted to leave. Then again, how long did you have until that offer expired? Until next his throat ran dry? You sniff, once, and shake your head, continuing down the stairs..

You want to know who you were. Who you are. Preferably before somebody either kills you or throws you in jail. You have to be here for that.

As you touch down on the ground floor, you realize you can hear noise coming from the hallway just behind the stairs. The room opposite where Jin first fed from you. A familiar chill creeps up your spine, curls talons into your shoulders and quickens your heartbeat so that it sounds loud in your own ears as you continue. It’s the youngers of the coven that you can hear—Taehyung, Jimin, and though you can’t hear him over the conversation of the others, you can tell Jungkook is in there, too.

“—past a high school education,” Taehyung rumbles.

“You can’t just decide not to do it,” Jimin scoffs.

“Wasn’t saying I wouldn’t do it, I’m just saying it’ll be harder when its you and me—which its gonna have to be soon .”

Something electronically compressed shouts in a foreign language.

“I can dance.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll rent you out for parties.” You can hear the eyeroll.

Before you’ve even cleared the doorway, the voices subside.

The room before you is structurally identical to the one on the left of the hall, more wide than tall, reaching towards the back of the house. But the similarities end there. While the room prior is decorated lavishly, like a gentleman’s sitting lounge, this one looks like a teenage boy’s wet dream. There’s anime posters tacked up directly onto the walls, a huge television set centered in the back with a circle of comfortable-looking chairs that have seen better days. To the far right is a beat-up pool table, and to the far left a thin bookcase that looks like it’s been ransacked. Books shoved onto the shelves, sitting dejectedly in rickety stacks on the floor. Comics, most of them. Some are magazines bearing scantily clad women on the covers. A sexy fireman calendar is pinned at the wall just beside the bookshelf with a thumbtack, the gentleman in question pouting at the camera and slipping a thumb under his bright yellow waistband, dark brows cocked. You get the distinct feeling it isn’t up-to-date, but rather a favored model.

On the television screen, a fighting game waits, humming, paused in bright letters slashed across what appears to be a cybernetic feudal japan rendered in 8-bit. Taehyung and Jimin both, seated on the sagging couch directly in front of it, have craned over their necks to behold you with apprehensive eyes past the blanket draped over the back.

Jungkook perches on the end of the pool table, leaning with a cue propping his chin up. He, too, lends a glassy stare your way.

Nobody moves.

You can taste the seconds that pass on the back of your tongue.

“Hey.” You finally greet.

Taehyung is the first to break into a wide smile that creases his eyes and bares his teeth in a boxy shape. “Hey.” he repeats, teasing, brows flitting upwards. “Welcome back.”

Jimin licks his lips and briefly looks to his companions. “Hey.” he says finally, rubbing at his mouth with a sniff.

Jungkook offers no comment, but the corner of his lips quirk, pulling into a straight line. You’ll take it as a greeting.

“I don’t wanna interrupt,” you continue, awkward, but proud of yourself for standing your ground. “I just need access to the web.”

“We’re grounded.” Jungkook finally speaks up, deadpan. No one moves, watching you patiently as you wait for him to add the ‘kidding’. It doesn’t come.

“...You’re serious.”

“Jin changed the wifi password,” Taehyung explains, with a wry chuckle. “He said he’ll give it back in a few years.”

“As long as he doesn’t catch Jungkook trying to guess it again,” Jimin adds with a pointed glance at his younger.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, huffing once. “If I had figured it out, you’d use it.”

Jimin shifts in his seat, raising his hand to gesture as he continues to accuse, now facing him directly, brows high. “Yeah, but you didn’t, did you? You know if he catches you again, we’re all gonna be in trouble for it.”

“I’d rather die standing than live kneeling.” Jungkook’s voice drops into a deep accent for the dramatics.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Good man,” he returns in a similar timber.

Jimin snatches a threadbare pillow off the ground, smacks Taehyung upside the head with it and beams it directly at Jungkook, who fends it off with a skillful parry using the pool cue.

“Pathetic,” Jungkook intones, thick, torso dropping into a defensive stance, wielding the cue like a bo staff.

Taehyung giggles. “It’s no use,” he adds in a growl.

“Okay,” you interrupt their antics, “So I’ll have to ask Jin?”

“Probably.” Jimin replies, nodding. “Namjoon has it, too.”

“He hasn't been out of his room since you got here, though,” Taehyung interjects.

The cherry-headed kung fu master perched atop the pool table deflates visibly. He flips the cue to lean it back onto the ground again, shoulders sinking. His face resumes its empty stare into space, a slight frown curving his lips.

“Hobi would have it.”

“You could ask him, but he doesn’t like letting people on his stuff.”

“Yoongi?”

“Probably not a good idea. He didn’t look too good—”

“I’m not asking Yoongi,” you say, a little too quickly. Three sets of eyes swivel to you in mild surprise.

“I already...I’m not going to ask him.” You finish, lame.

“Your best bet is just asking Jin. He’ll let you do whatever you want,” Jungkook pipes up, quiet.

“Uh. Alright. Do you know where he is?”

“Probably in the study. Back down the hall. To the right. It’s opposite the kitchen. You remember where the kitchen is?”

You remember. You remember Jungkook pressing you gently to the counter. His hands on your waist. His lips against yours, stolen and perfect. The way his jet eyes burn into yours tells you he remembers, too. You try to focus on the memory of stale crackers instead.

“Thanks.” The word escapes your lips like something small, something almost shameful, slinking past your teeth and disappearing somewhere under the couch.

You move to turn away, to leave them to their games. Talking to Jin might be best, anyways, if your goal was to figure yourself out. He’s always been kind to you. He’s probably most likely to sit still and listen to what you have to say. Probably.

“Wait. Do…”

You pull up short, just shy of leaving the frame. You poke your head back around the corner to find Jimin scooted up on the couch, fixing you with a look that’s as surprised as his companions’.

“Do you...want to play?” he finishes.

A beat passes.

“The game,” he clarifies, tone softening, but his eyes are earnest.

“The game?...” you echo, frozen in place. Ah. The one on the television screen. You blink. “I...I don’t remember how to play video games.”

“It’s super easy. We can teach you. If you want. You don’t have to.” he adds, rapid-fire and increasingly losing his nerve.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He frowns, throwing his gaze to some indeterminate point in space to his right. “I just...they made it sound like you’re...staying. I don’t want things to be weird forever, you know?”

The other two in the room turn their sights on you and you can feel yourself being the center of attention between them; and not for the first time, though now for a completely different reason. You hesitate.

But he’s right. If you’re going to be living with these people for the foreseeable future, what’s the point in leaving room for tensions? And if you’re going to leave, why not convince them in the meantime to see you as something other than a fuckable meal ticket? It can’t hurt. Can’t it?

“...Alright.” you acquiesce, finally. Jimin’s expression melts into a sweet relief, and he’s automatically scooting to the side on the couch, gesturing you over. Jungkook doesn’t move, opting to continue staring as you reenter the room and approach the sofa. Taehyung’s face is impossible to get a proper read on, but he slides to the side and pats at the seat between himself and Jimin in a way you think is encouraging.

You skirt around the corner, navigating past Taehyung’s legs and the wires decorating the floor in front of the tv set, finally opting to throw yourself into the cushions. A yelp of surprise leaves you when you sink further into it than you bargained for, your feet leaving the ground and your sight almost obscured by the sofa’s plush maw. Taehyung laughs at that, his eyes pushing into crescents.

“Comfy, right?”

“It’s, uh,” you struggle to combat your new pillowy prison, thrashing to regain your balance. “Well—”

“It’s a piece of shit is what it is,” Jungkook clarifies through an absent pout.

“Tae won’t let us get rid of it,” Jimin adds with a roll of his eyes, leaning to pass you his controller. You accept it with one hand, finalizing your position atop the seat instead of inside it with the other.

“It’s literally the perfect couch,” Tae defends. “Years and years of wearing it in has made it the ideal specimen.”

“Don’t sleep on it. You’ll throw out your back and walk funny for like a week,” Jungkook warns.

“Nobody said you had to sleep on it.”

“I don’t. I sleep on the pool table. Way more comfortable.”

Jimin shifts closer as they argue, careful not to get too close, careful not to touch you when he points the buttons out.

“These are for attacking, these are for combos,” he’s explaining, patient. “The joystick moves it. All you have to do is beat Taehyung up.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “The dream,” you venture, trying to be more familiar.

To your relief, he returns it, a giggle shaking his shoulders. “This one unpauses the game. When you’re ready.”

“When you’re ready to have your ass handed to you.” A glance at Tae reveals his brows raised ridiculously high on his head, his head tilted back to eye you with an exaggerated air of superiority. His jaw flexes as he chews imaginary gum for punctuation.

“Give her the chance to learn the controls at least.”

“No. Adapt or die.”

You take a breath, trying to cement Jimin’s brief overview in your mind. Are you the kind of person who’s good at video games? It’s a possibility. “...We’ll see who hands whose ass to whom.”

“Foolish.”

With a tap of the button, you unpause the game.

The wolf-man character on the far right of the screen immediately strides over to the winged angel-looking man on the left. You start mashing buttons, suddenly frantic, but the character advances closer and grabs yours, throws him to the side of the screen and unleashes hell on him when he bounces back. The character explodes in shards of light, falling dramatically to the ground, and bright text once again flashes red across the screen.

K.O.

Jimin tries to defend you through laughter, offering advice and scolding Taehyung in turn, who stretches leisurely and cracks his neck with an expression of ultimate self-satisfaction.

“You, are a jerk,” you laugh after a beat of stunned silence. “You couldn’t have thrown one match?”

“A true champion never throws matches,” is his deeply-serious reply.

“In the words of Ghandi,” Jungkook pipes up, “Get good.”

“Ghandi didn’t say that.”

“Ghandi said ‘get good, scrub,’” Taehyung corrects.

“Ah, my bad, namaste.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jimin gripes. “Give me the other controller.”

You turn from him with a look of determination, effectively shielding Taehyung from his grasp as you twist in the seat, despite the inherent difficulty of the maneuver. “No! I was promised the chance to beat him up!”

From the side, you hear Jungkook’s quiet, “Yes, let it flow through you.”

“But he—”

“I want to go again! I’m just figuring the controls out!” You insist, swivelling to glower at Tae. “We’re gonna go again!”

His eyes flash and he grins, delighted in your participation in his little play competition. “Another hot, steamy plate of ass-whooping for the lady?”

“Weird thing to call yourself,” you bite back.

“Ass-whooping?”

“‘The lady’.”

Jungkook hoots. “She’s calling you a girl.”

Taehyung shrugs at that as he flicks a button absently, the words ‘Player 1: READY’ darting across the screen. “I could be ladylike.”

“You’re too much of a whore,” Jimin snarks.

“This is true.”

Your next round doesn’t fare much better than the first. Or your third. Fifth. But it doesn’t take long for you to get caught up in the game as well as the company, the boys visibly relaxing the longer you sit there among them. Jungkook slowly begins to chime in with tips and tricks, occasionally dipping into this ‘announcer’ voice like he’s narrating a sports channel. His favorite thing to shout becomes “That’s gotta hurt!” and for some reason, it only becomes funnier every time he trots it out.

Taehyung talks shit nonstop, constantly, raining endless pain onto your little angel man like its hardly a second thought. Like his fingers are plugged directly into the matrix. Like he was born with this controller in his hand. He doesn’t blink.

Jimin mostly tsks and complains about Taehyung’s merciless demolition of your player character, cheering loudly when the odd hit lands. He almost falls off the couch laughing when you manage to kick Tae upwards with a lucky combination of button mashing and he immediately uses the air to pummel your head into the ground with a one-shot, flawless K.O. It only gets worse at your insistence that the controller is at fault, but you can’t help but laugh with him until the four of you are lost completely in giggles.

“We need to level the playing field somehow,” Jimin gasps, tears in his eyes. “This isn’t a game, this is a massacre.”

Taehyung jumps nearly a mile in the air when the business end of a pool cue suddenly appears in his periphery, rearing back before smacking the backs of his outstretched hands like a stern nun.

“Ow?” he giggles, head turning in confusion, the controller nearly slipping out of his grip.

“Interference.” Jungkook wiggles the pole at him again, playfully dodging like he’s boxing, before rapping him across the knuckles again.

“Hey!” Tae yelps, trying to scoot out of his reach, but Jungkook’s arm and the cue itself are long enough that he just continues to extend with him, waving at him warningly even as he bats at it.

“Press play, press play,” Jimin urges, leaning towards you with excitement, eyes wild.

“That’s cheating, that’s not fair,” Taehyung laughs in a high pitch, trying to shoulder at the cue, raise his knee against it, all futile against Jungkook’s pestilence, gripping his controller for the next round as you hit the button to continue.

“All is fair in war.” Jungkook replies, solemn.

Tae manages to push the stick away just in time to block your clumsy attack, getting a quick combo in, but the end move is cut off when the pool cue jams into a space just beneath his ribs and his whole body immediately convulses ticklishly with a shout.

“Now! Now!” Jimin surges forward, warm hands covering yours to guide your fingers to the right buttons. It’s a split second window of opportunity where Taehyung has to take one hand off the controller in order to grab the cue, but you’re seizing it with a vigor you didn’t know you had, slamming into the buttons so hard you swear they could crack, aided by Jimin’s fingers above yours, everyone breathlessly focused on the screen as your character unleashes one, two, three combos onto the body of the wolf man.

Taehyung roars aloud, intimidating if not for the laughter that pitches the end upwards.

The finishing move.

Simultaneous, moved by one will, the intention towards sheer and utter annihilation, you and Jimin slot the last combo into place. The finishing move is some untenable, seizure-inducing spasm of lights and feathers and halos and something to do with water? You don’t understand whatever it is the angel man shrieks, but you understand the red slash of victory streaking across the screen with righteous fanfare.

K.O.

You won.

Jimin is crowing, beaming, and you can’t help but grin along with him, raising the controller aloft like a trophy won. You’re sweating.

“You did so good!” he gushes, hands shaking yours in the air, still curled around each other. “You did it, you kicked his ass apart!”

“Traitor!!” Taehyung howls, still laughing so hard he can barely see.

As you and Jimin briefly engage in some awkward, silly victory dance, both pairs of hands held above your head, Taehyung places the controller gently on the floor in front of himself, jerking upwards and clamping both hands onto the pool cue, tugging Jungkook off his seat atop the table with one motion. Jungkook shrieks as he’s thrown forward, losing his balance and crashing into the blonde man ungracefully, the two of them carried by the force into you. You jolt when Taehyung’s head lands in your lap, still play-growling and releasing the cue to grab the other boy more firmly about his shoulders. The motion in turn thrusts you at Jimin, who catches you with a small noise of surprise, the four of you tilting like dominos, steadily sinking into the couch like hollywood quicksand. The two youngsters struggle for a moment, Tae’s head thrashing across your thighs, Jungkook trying to extricate himself and knocking into your elbow, Jimin seemingly frozen beneath you, arms forgotten midair, the heat of his midsection warming your back.

All at once, everyone stills.

Your excitement wavers. Dissipates.

What’s happening? What’s wrong?

Realization crashes into you as several things happen at the same time.

Taehyung’s expression drops, turning back to impassive and unreadable. He turns slightly, towards the bite at your thigh, and you can hear the inhale he draws through his nose as he casts his eyes upwards, at you. His pupils dilate. Oh shit.

Jungkook turns entirely to stone, held steady by his forearms on top of his elder. But you can hear his lips part, the sharp breath he takes. His fingers curl absently into the cushions beneath you.

At the sound of Jimin’s tongue flitting to wet his lips, you move to begin turning and facing him, but you jolt, pausing at the feeling of something brushing, feather-light and barely there, at the base of your hair. His breath warms the nape of your neck when he speaks in a hesitant murmur. He’s angled towards the side where your fresh marks sting.

“...Ah. Did Yoongi…?”

Your body is moving before you can think, aided by the heat that floods your limbs. You’re writhing, kicking out from under Taehyung, disentangling yours and Jimin’s hands, pushing them off, away, trying to get leverage enough to be released from the depths of the sagging couch. Taehyung and Jungkook are clumsy and slow, sitting up just enough for you to get out, and Jimin is doing his best to assist you, you think, but you’re still unthreading your fingers, shoving a steadying hand off your waist and pretending that the lack of support doesn’t make you stumble forward. Some part of you is disappointed to leave the warmth, the attention, but you know exactly what would happen if you stayed. And you don’t have time for it. As you struggle your way upwards, finally free, you refuse to look directly at them, but you catch a glimpse of their faces anyway on your way to the doorframe, headed for the hallway.

Jungkook is still holding himself up over Tae, their play fight forgotten entirely. His eyes bore dark, burning holes into yours. Taehyung’s are glued to your thighs, tongue making an appearance to slide across his mouth almost thoughtfully as he sinks leisurely back into the pillows. Jimin is the only one of them that doesn’t look blown-out. Brows raised and angled, plush lips parted in shock—that all-too-familiar hunger has crept behind his eyes but more than that, he looks surprised.

You bite back an apology as you stride to the doorway and through the hall, heading back towards the front of the house. What do you have to apologize for? You aren’t sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Even so, there’s a part of you that’s mourning the most comfortable atmosphere you’ve been party to in what feels like ever.

It was nice, but you forgot.

You forgot what they are, and what you are to them.

You wish it didn’t make your heart ache.

“Wait. Wait!”

You don’t hear him the first time, too lost in your own embarrassment, but the second time you hear Jimin calling after you, your pace quickens. He’s running after you, breaking into a slight jog when you speed up. He catches up with you at the front door, nearly on top of you, and the thought of him grabbing your arm or otherwise touching to get your attention has your heel spinning to frown at him. He halts immediately when your gazes meet. Your cheeks are still flushed and you hate thinking of how it must look.

“Yeah, Yoongi did. Okay? What do you want, Jimin?”

He recoils visibly, stepping back. His eyes are still slightly dilated, his own cheeks a pretty pink, plump lips parted. He looks hurt. Agitated. You ignore the urge to sidle closer and bite his lips for him.

“I—I just,” he hesitates, spluttering when you move to turn around again and continue to the study, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I just wanted you to...to feel more comfortable with us.” he admits, quiet. “I know things are weird.”

You snort. He winces. “That’s a word for it.”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. Being here. I just want you to feel…like...like you can trust us.”

“Trust you?”

“Like you can trust me! I know it’s hard, just being dropped in a house where everybody’s already...and you’re the odd one out…”

“I’m not an in-law, Jimin,” you balk. You remind him just as much as yourself, “You kidnapped me so you could eat me.”

He winces again, rubbing the back of his neck. His tongue wets his lips again, nervous. “I know that. I’m just.” He meets your eye again. “I’m just trying to help.”

You stare at him.

“The last time you ‘helped’ me, you ended up with your dick down my throat.” You reply, incredulous.

The red dusting his face gets so, so much worse and he has to look away.

“That was...different. We...you...it was—” he’s looking for some excuse and failing miserably. “I’m sorry for that, too.” he ends finally. “But! But, I never was going to hurt you, y’know.”

You sigh, hand coming to massage at your temples absently. God, you hope that migraine isn’t planning on coming back. Will drama make your withdrawal worse? “Jimin—”

“I don’t want you to feel alone. Hunted and wanted and scared and alone. And,” he adds, his tone going quiet. “I don’t want...us….” He trails off, restarting with a steadying inhale. “You aren’t hazed.”

The new direction spins you for a moment, taking you completely off-guard. “...no?”

“Are you okay?”

You gape. What is he getting at? But he meets your eye with...fear? Worry? “I’m...fine?”

“Yoongi bit you.”

“Yes…?”

“Without any haze. While he’s...he’s sick. Hungry.”

There’s a pause between you while you try to decipher his point. He eventually gets frustrated with it and casts a brief look about, as if checking for anyone who might be listening in, before stepping in slightly closer. His hands raise, placating, like you’re a spooked animal who might turn tail any minute, at the slightest movement.

“Did he force himself on you?” His voice is soft.

“No more than any of you have,” you retort, stepping back, but Jimin only looks more concerned, eyes darting between yours. “Come on, you can’t pretend that ‘haze’ excuses some of the shit I’ve been through.”

“Haze can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do—”

This again. You could strangle him. “Oh, thank you, Namjoon—”

“—and there is a difference between convincing someone to give you their blood and taking it from them. An important difference. I need...I need to know that we aren’t like that to you.”

“And if you were?”

“Then we’re both leaving.” His response is immediate, grim, and again you’re left somewhat reeling. You watch him for a moment, admittedly intrigued by this convoluted, complicated world view he’s apparently keeping track of. The gray standards he’s holding this entire crew to. It’s weirdly fascinating. Would he really leave them? Just because they didn’t haze you?

“...I went into Yoongi’s room and asked him to bite me,” you say finally. Jimin’s entire frame sags in relief, though his expression morphs into open-mouthed shock.

“You….did?”

“Actually, he was the one that wasn’t...completely into it to start with,” you admit after a beat, recalling the man bundled into the corner, insisting that he didn’t want to hurt you. Something like guilt flashes through you. “He asked me to leave.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jimin looks like he’s this close to crying, head leaning back, brows furrowed. He leans his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair with a deep inhale. He presses his palms into his eyes, disbelieving. “Oh, my god, I was so...I thought…”

You eye him peculiarly. “You really think it makes that big of a difference.”

“It makes all the difference. We have to drink blood. And we can’t always just... ask people for it. But we can make it as painless as possible. We can choose not to let people suffer for it. We don’t have to be...like others.” He takes another breath. “We aren’t like them. We don’t have to be.”

“That is such a thin line.”

“It is,” he concedes. “It really is. But I have to...I have to draw it. For my sake. For everyone’s. I love them all too much.”

“You’re a hero,” you drawl.

“I’m traumatized,” he counters, too quick on the draw, too off-handed. The wry grin that pulls up one side of his mouth is not a happy one. There are scars hiding in his tone, and for a second, you can see how old he is. How old he really is. The shadow of what he’s really been through, passing over him and seeping past the veil that immortality lends. “It does that to you.”

Silence settles into the front hall around you, punctuated only by the odd creak of old wood somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, echoing.

Namjoon’s words rise, unbidden, in your mind.

Jimin...Jimin was my fault. Wait, does that mean that Namjoon—You don’t have time to be horrified or even more confused, because Jimin is shoving his hands into his pockets and exhaling loudly through his nose. He looks equal parts content with his answers and idly thoughtful.

“So you’re okay?” he asks, eyes searching yours. His pupils have almost shrunk back to normal, no doubt distracted by whatever is lurking in his past.

“...I’m okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” his head bobs. “You can talk to me, okay?”

“Without sticking your dick in my mouth?” you snap before you can stop yourself.

His expression darkens. “It…” he hesitates, tongue slipping to wet his lips.

“That...will be up to you,” he says finally, slow, intent.

Your belly roils and again you have to beat back the sudden desire to throw yourself at him, sneak hands beneath his shirt, into his jeans, lick into his mouth. His gaze flicks across your body, bottom to top, before he turns on his heel and slinks back down the hall to the game room. Briefly, you wonder what the atmosphere must be like in there now. You shudder and the marks at your neck and thigh pulse.

It’s too easy for them.

Far too easy.

But you like to think you’re learning.

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#moth to flame #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts vampire au #bts x reader #eyyyyyy she returns #what do yall think

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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years

Text

Out of Time (7)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 6357

Previously: Danny and Dan clash in the Ghost Zone

Now: What everyone else was doing during the fight, some exposition, angst and answers. Did I mention some angst?

Bonus chapter since I'm feeling generous! Link to the next chapter will be in the replies once posted. As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"Danny!" Maddie yelled as she saw her son's transformation. Sam and Jazz turned around quickly at her outburst. "Wait!" It was too late; Danny dove into the portal, completely unaware of her pleas.

Sam gaped at the almost empty side of the lab; Clockwork – who apparently arrived in the commotion –hovered on the ground, red eyes watching the swirling portal with apprehension. "Why didn't you stop him!" the Goth yelled.

Clockwork turned to her, eyes narrowing at her tone. "It is not my place to alter his decisions. Danny made his choice."

Sam opened her mouth to argue, but Ethelwulf stepped forward, putting a large claw on her shoulder. "He's right – let's do what we can to help him hmm?" Ethelwulf walked past her, yellow eyes filled with burning questions for the Time Master. Clockwork said nothing more. Ethelwulf sighed, but stood ready to fight whatever would come through the portal.

Maddie, observing the interaction, finally snapped out of her disbelief as she determinedly went back to the control panel. Jack and Tucker were bantering back and forth about various codes and systems about the Fento-drones as her violet eyes glanced up at the tracker. She could see Danny flying toward the threat, stopping only once as he interacted with the first ghost he saw. The exchange only lasted two minutes before he took off again, flying deeper into the Ghost Zone. "Jazz – you and Sam get the containment field ready," Maddie told her daughter, a plan quickly coming to mind. "Jack- release those Fento-drones as soon as they're ready okay? We need eyes on what Danny's facing."

"Oh, we'll have more than eyes Mrs. F," Tucker said smugly. He connected the control pad onto the main system, finishing the connection before switching it on. Bright lights flickered as two robots flew from the walls, zooming through the air before dashing into the portal. The screens lit up in green as both robots turned their cameras on, giving two different viewpoints of the action. As the robots flew deeper into the zone, Maddie gasped, pointing toward the screen.

"Damn – we've got incoming!" she yelled, grabbing an ecto-gun from her belt and turned to face the first ghost out of the portal.

She nearly dropped the gun when the blue skinned Box Ghost popped into her lab. He looked around widely, desperately looking for something before his red eyes found Maddie. He turned back toward the portal. "This way! Head for the town!" he yelled into the portal, before flying directly toward Maddie. "Ghost Child's parents!" he exclaimed, moving his hands widely. "I have a message for you!"

Maddie's eyes narrowed as Sam yelled from around of the containment chamber. "Is it from Danny?"

"Yes! It is from the Ghost Child!" he yelled. Maddie winced at the volume but gestured for him to continue. Ghosts started to flood the portal, flying up out of the lab in one fluid movement. "He said to close the portal when we get through. Head to the town just like the Ghost King!" He said nothing more, turning intangible and up through the ceiling of the lab.

Jack grunted in confirmation from his position at the console. "Danny must have a plan," he said, monitoring the Fento-drone's path through the Zone. In the distance, he saw a black and white blur racing away from where they were currently. "There! I've got eyes on him."

Tucker frowned, looking over from his screen to Jack's. "I'm switching mine to manual," he said, typing into the computer before manoeuvring the controls. The Fento-Drone he piloted jerked slightly, but steadied itself as it changed its path to follow the half-ghost. His frown deepened as he realized that it was going top speed, but was hardly moving quickly at all. "Mr. Fenton – these are still super slow."

Jack cringed, rubbing the back of his neck slightly. "I didn't have a chance to test drive these puppies after I added the weapons system," he admitted, also changing his Fento-Drone to manual. "But they pack quite a punch!"

Tucker groaned in frustration, but continued to try following Danny past the multitude of ghosts.

Sam frowned, watching her friend pilot the Fenton's machine almost like he was in a RPG game. "Any sign of Dan?" she asked worriedly, holding one panel of the containment chamber open. Jazz's head shot up at the mention of the name but said nothing.

Tucker sighed, sagging slightly. "No, and we lost Danny too," he replied glumly.

As the last of the big wave of ghosts came through and into the town, Frostbite came through the portal, landing on the metal floor with a loud thud. "Mighty Fentons!" he greeted quickly, before turning his attention to Ethelwulf and Clockwork with a frown. "The Great One told me to seek you out. He's gone after Skulker and Ember."

"Skulker!?" Jazz asked, confused. "Why would he go after him?"

Frostbite looked at the red head. "Skulker and Ember volunteered to stay behind when our ice blockade fell. The Great One wanted to help." He turned his large furry head to Ethelwulf, locking eyes with the friend. "It's started, hasn't it."

Ethelwulf moved to answer, but Clockwork responded instead. "Yes," the Time Master replied, reaching inside his cloak. "And we must act quickly." He pulled out six of his time medallions, gesturing to Frostbite. "Here – one for all of you. Ethelwulf – keep yours close. " Clockwork held a tighter grip on his time staff as he moved toward the humans slowly. "I cannot control Time anymore. With these, you'll be able to move freely."

Frostbite took a medallion, throwing it over his head as he observed the lab around him. "I see," he said solemnly, taking the remaining medallions from Clockwork, passing them out to the humans. His eyes found Ethelwulf's, nodding in an unspoken agreement. As he came to Jack and Maddie, Frostibite gave them a toothy grin. "You will need to shut the portal as soon as the Great One returns –there'll be little time before the Monster follows."

Jack and Maddie looked at each other, concerned, but nodded nonetheless.

Tucker made a noise at the console, making everyone turn their attention to the boy. "There's something coming toward us!" he cried, zooming the camera in to try and get a better image. Maddie moved over her husband's shoulder, looking at both her husband's screen and Tucker's. "It looks like…. Ember?"

Maddie frowned as she recognized the fiery blue hair from her takeover of Amity a few months ago. She was being carried by a robotic ghost, recognizing him from Danny's ghost files. Both looked a little worse for wear. "Danny's not with them," she noted, watching the two ghosts zip past the two Fento-drones toward the portal.

"I think he's up ahead," Tucker said, moving closer to the screen. "I see a few explosions in the distance."

Jack's face paled slightly as he watched a particularly large explosion occur across the screen. "Let's head toward it then," he replied, flying directly in the line of fire.

Both drones moved further into the Ghost Zone, noticing the destruction around them.

"Whoa," Sam said from somewhere over Tucker's shoulder. Somewhere in the commotion, both girls had moved back toward the console.

"Dan did all this?" Maddie whispered. Her mouth grew dry as she noticed the flying debris. "Aren't those all realms?"

"What's left of them," Frostbite confirmed grimly, turning back to the portal.

There was a bit of movement before Skulker flew out of the portal, clutching an unconscious Ember in his arms. He looked at Frostbite helplessly, before he collapsed out of the air onto the floor. "Help her," he said, shaking her gently. Frostbite moved toward the newcomers quickly, trying to assess what he could do to help.

Ethelwulf growled at the scene. "I'm going after him," the black wolf said, running toward the portal. "I'm not leaving him in there."

"Stop," Clockwork commanded. His voice made Ethelwulf pause. "He needs to do this without your help."

"Are you blind Clockwork?" Ethelwulf asked viciously. He gestured to Skulker and Ember being helped by Frostbite in the corner. "We cannot let him fend for himself – he's already compromised."

Clockwork sighed, red eyes scanning the room. "He made his decision," Clockwork repeated. "I'm inclined to trust his judgement."

"There!" Jack yelled, pointing along the screen. Two blurs of black and white gained speed, the smaller of the two disappearing and reappearing closer to the Fento-drones. "He's headed back."

"Not alone!" Jazz exclaimed, watching the bigger ghost speed up slightly. "Mom, the portal!"

Maddie nodded, getting to her place at the main console. "Standing by – as soon as Danny gets through, we'll close it."

The humans and ghosts watched closely, waiting with baited breath as the half-ghost kept teleporting away. As Danny teleported again, Dan also disappeared, reappearing in the same spot as the younger ghost. Dan slammed Danny against the rock, a white glove reaching around the boy's neck. They all gasped, watching Danny's legs thrash as he tried to break free.

"Tucker – do something!" Sam yelled desperately.

The techno-geek's hands moved quickly, steering his drone toward the fight. Danny started to slow down, legs relaxing as he gasped for air. "Eat this!" Tucker cried, pressing a small red button on the controller. The Fento-Drone opened a hatch on the bottom side, releasing an ecto-gun. It charged green energy for a few seconds before launching a powerful stream of energy at the evil ghost. It hit its target, freeing Danny from his grip. The young half ghost coughed, regaining himself before the floated up to the two drones.

"Thank you, Fento-Drones!"

A collective sigh of relief made its way through the lab as Danny froze Dan and made his way back. The Fento-drones hovered in place, watching the young ghost speed off toward the portal before they floated back to the frozen Phantom left behind. Dan rattled under the ice, steam coming through the barrier.

Maddie and Jack looked between the images from the drones and the radar showing Danny's status to the portal anxiously. As the evil ghost melted his prison, Jack stared at the blue skinned ghost. Danny had told them about Dan – but they weren't prepared for how much the spectre truly looked like their son. He found Maddie's unsure expression, the shock getting to her also. He turned back to the screen, suddenly very angry at the ghost in front of him. His large hands curled around his controller, pressing his weapons system also. "Bonzaii!" He yelled, flying straight for Dan. Tucker followed suit, both Fento-drones attacking Dan with various Ghost Rays.

"Really?" Dan sneered into the camera of a drone. "My parents' dumb inventions?" He dodged them skilfully. "I wonder who's behind this little plan?" Dan roared in anger, releasing a series of ecto-energy toward both attacking robots. The attack hit Tucker's Fento-drone, sending it tumbling into one of the rocks. Tucker tried manoeuvring it out of the stone or attack, but the small robot was unresponsive.

"I've been hit!" Tucker cried out.

Dan grabbed the drone piloted by Jack from the air. His snarling face filled the screen as he laughed, ripping the robot into two pieces. The camera went dark on the one screen. All eyes turned to the radar, eying that Danny was so close to the portal, but had also stopped. The figure behind him barrelled through the zone, heading right for him.

"I still have eyes!" Tucker told the onlookers, trying to zoom in from his trapped bot. People crowded around him, seeing large flickers of light flash across it. "What the-" he started to mutter as the lab was once again illuminated with white light. Humans and ghosts whirled around; Danny was on his hands and knees in front of the portal, panting as large blue and white sparks flowed through his small frame.

"Danny!" his friends and family called out.

The white haired ghost shook his head. "The portal!" he barked, biting his lip as his body contorted in agony. Ethelwulf attempted to move toward the injured teen, concerned, but Clockwork grabbed his paw.

Maddie hit the button, closing the portal. Danny relaxed slightly as the portal doors closed in front of him, sparks still moving through him. He managed to sit on his legs, breathing heavily as he glanced around the lab. Finally, his gaze rested on Skulker, Frostbite and Ember. Skulker's green eyes were wide at the young ghost in front of him. "Hide here," he told the surprised hunter tiredly. "Blend in, don't cause trouble. Should be safe." He grimaced as the sparks increased moving his hands outward to grip onto the ground.

Frostbite stood up, moving away from Skulker and Ember; the latter had just seemed to start to come to. "Great One – those sparks are attacking your core!" He exclaimed worriedly, moving toward Danny. The yeti ghost stopped as a set of large blue energy sparked outward from the teen. Frostbite's eyes widened with disbelief. "Wait… that's not raw energy."

Ethelwulf stopped pulling against Clcokwork at Frostbite's words, turning his gaze quickly to the young boy. The sparks were increasing now, more blue than white. Danny's green eyes were shut tightly, trying to regain any composure he could. "It's not core energy either," Ethelwulf said soflty, yellow eyes widening as he also realized it.

"What are you two talking about?!" Sam yelled worriedly. Danny's eyes flew open, pupils rapidly changing colours between green and blue. The sparks started to form a dome around Danny as he started to stare into space. "Danny!"

"It's time energy," Clockwork confirmed. His red eyes looked pitifully at the young ghost in front of him, who had gotten eerily quiet. Ethelwulf moved to Danny, dodging the sparks that seemed to want to protect the boy. "Time has stopped."

All the humans looked at each other, slightly confused. Clockwork gestured to the corner of the lab and they were startled to find Skulker and Ember, frozen in place. Danny's body tensed as Ethelwulf got towards him, seemingly unaware of the sparks of energy attacking his body.

"Hello Danny."

Everyone jumped as the heart stopping voice came through the main console. As Tucker turned around, he gasped; Dan was staring right into the camera, smiling smugly.

"Let me guess, Tucker and Sam are probably there too." Tucker, Sam and Jazz all looked at each other worriedly. "Maybe even my meddling older sister." He moved closer to the screen. "You probably think you've won with that little trick of yours." Dan split himself in two, not breaking eye contact with the camera. "But I have tricks of my own." The duplicate's hand lit up green, creating a portal before it flew into it and disappeared. The Phantom on the screen then turned around, and released a large ecto-blast toward the portal. It hit Danny's second shield, making his body twitch as he sank deeper to the ground. "You don't think these shields will hold me for long? I wanted to divide your attention." A shrill beep sounded, causing Maddie to pull up the scanner around the town. A large mass of ecto-energy was blasted across the shield. Maddie and Jack paled as they locked eyes at severity of the attack. "One of them will break eventually." Danny's body twitched again, back arching as he continued to stare off into space.

The Phantom outside of the town suddenly disappeared as the Phantom on screen stopped his attack. "I will break you Danny," Dan sneered. "You and your promises won't save your world." His body glowed dark green, before various shadows started to appear behind him. "I can create a shadow army to attack day and night – but where's the fun in that?" He paused, floating backward as shadows continued to appear behind him. "I'll give you a sporting chance. You have thirty-six hours." Dan's hand lit up in green ecto-energy before the screen went dark.

As the screen went black, Danny's body contorted strangely one last time before it fell limply to the ground. Ethelwulf knelt beside the boy, concerned as he transformed back in his human half. The lab was silent as blue sparks continued to move through the fallen boy.

:-=-:

When Danny woke up, he was dismayed to learn that he had passed out and landed him in the infirmary again. He sat up slowly, groaning at the massive headache throbbing through his brain.

His heart felt like it was ripped out of his chest multiple times. How could they just be gone?

Danny gasped, groaning as images flew across his mind. Sparks started to flow up and down his core. "You know," he muttered, doubling over in pain, "I'm really getting tired of this."

Vlad was saying something. He definitely paid someone off – but he couldn't seem to care anymore. They were gone and he couldn't save them. He deserved to live with Vlad.

Danny gasped again, feeling slightly sick as he realized what he was seeing. He buried his eyes in the palms of his hands, stifling a cry of pain as sparks continued to wrack his frame.

"Come now Daniel, this is for the best," Vlad told him. He felt cold icy rage fill his entire body as the man came closer. The jerk at least had the decency to look sympathetic. "I don't want you to have to hide anymore. Going with your aunt would only hurt you more." Danny felt himself nodding.

"Stop," Danny whimpered, pressing his hands into his face a little harder. "I don't want to see this." He heard the door to the infirmary open, soft footsteps turned frantic as someone called his name. He groaned in response, causing the newcomer to rub his back soothingly.

"You're alright sweetie," his Mom whispered from above him. "They're just Time Visions. They'll pass."

He was angry. Everything was wrong – if they weren't alive then he didn't deserve to be either. If he was a ghost all the time, he would've saved them. His memory of that day drifted back as bile rose in his throat. Never again.

Danny bit back an angry sob as frustration washed over him. "Make it stop," he pleaded, hands moving to his head as he gripped his hair harshly.

Maddie stopped rubbing his back and instead hugged her son closer. "You can get through them Danny," she encouraged quietly. "Clockwork said these are just residual visions from your clash with Dan. Whatever you're seeing is part of an alternate timeline. It's not real."

He hadn't spoken to Vlad since arriving. It's been a week since he had to live with him. Three weeks since the Nasty Burger. All the condolences, people who insist they'll be there for him. They need to feel what he felt; The rage, the helplessness, the grief. If his loved ones were dead – then the world will feel his wrath. Green eyes burned as he looked Vlad in the face.

Danny gasped as the final vision left him. He sat up slowly, vaguely aware that he was shaking and clammy before he managed to look at his mother. Maddie watched him, slowly brushing his hair back with her hand. "You're alright now," she said lovingly as he stared at her with wide eyes, not quite believing she was in front of him. "Yesterday was rough for all of us."

Danny swallowed, nodding in confirmation. He looked down, suddenly feeling self-conscious and ashamed as his memory came back to him. Maddie frowned, but didn't comment at his movement. Instead, she patted his leg affectionately and leaned toward the bedside table.

"You must be hungry – you haven't eaten since you woke up yesterday," she said, grabbing a couple sandwiches. Danny realized that she must have brought them with her. "Sam and Tucker will be here soon. After your second battle with Dan, time energy moved through you continuously and then you just collapsed. The shield you put up to protect the portal was apparently interacting with the time energy, so Ethelwulf put one up. He said you should take yours down so you can focus on the one around the town. Frostbite and his people are here to help – and even Skulker's agreed to help keep the ghosts in line!" She handed him the plate. "Here."

Danny took it from her, staring at it absently as it sat in front of him. Maddie came back beside him, staring at him worriedly. After a few moments of silence, she sighed, settling in closer to her son.

"Danny," she said gently. "You can't bottle these visions up. Clockwork said you were being attacked by time energy – left from the time medallion being fused inside you. Those sparks aren't from your raw energy; it's time attacking your core. These visions are all from moments in time that you aren't supposed to see."

"They can keep them," Danny said bitterly, still not looking at his mother. "I don't want them."

Maddie gave him a sympathetic smile as she continued. "Don't you trust us?" she asked.

Danny looked up quickly. "Of course I trust you!" he exclaimed. His mother raised her eyebrow at him. "Mom," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't have made it through this without you and Dad. I trust you guys completely."

"Then why did you neglect to tell us that Dan was made up of Plasmius' ghost too?" she asked him pointedly. Danny looked away again. Maddie sighed, softening her tone slightly. "Why are you shutting everyone out?"

Danny sighed. "I don't mean to," he said quietly. "I just… I'm afraid I guess."

Maddie looked at her fifteen year old son, looking tired and defeated with a frown. "Of turning into him?" she asked.

Danny shook his head. "Not anymore," he told her. "I promised that I would never turn into him. It's all the other stuff I'm afraid of. I don't want to lose you guys." He clenched his fist in frustration.

Maddie nodded, putting a hand over his. "It must be scary, having to relive it."

Danny looked at her desperately. "Do you have any idea Mom? Any idea how hard it is looking at that ghost and thinking that was me? How one stupid mistake keeps coming back to haunt you and can make the world just crumble around you?" A tear fell onto their joined hands. "Reliving it for months on end and now actually seeing how much it took to get to that point? Everything… it was all my fault."

Silence descended on the pair as quiet tears continued to fall, mother and son looking at each other. Eventually, Maddie reached over and wiped a tear away from his face. "You are not Dan," she told him fiercely. "There may have been a point where you would become him, but you beat him. With Clockwork's help you saved us. You may see these images from time to time Danny, but you are stronger than him."

"You don't understand," he mumbled, looking away again.

"Oh really?" Maddie asked him. "Because I definitely know what it feels like to look one of your mistakes in the face every time there's a ghost attack on this town. How one faulty blueprint caused my fourteen year old son to become a half-ghost hybrid and lie to me for almost a year. To watch him carry such heavy burdens on his shoulders like the world would end if he messed up – and that it was my fault."

Danny cringed heavily. "Mom – I didn't mean," he sputtered. "I never-"

Maddie held up her hand. "I know sweetie," she told him gently. "I know you don't blame me -or your father. And regardless of how it happened, your ghost powers are not a mistake. How can I argue with anything you've done?" She smiled at him. "You're a hero Danny but that doesn't mean you have to deal with this on your own. Regardless of the battles you've faced, any horrors you've seen – you're still my fifteen year old space loving teenager. We're here for you sweetheart."

"You're mother's right kiddo," Jack boomed from the door. Danny and Maddie both turned, seeing the orange jumpsuit wearing man smiling kindly at his wife and son. He walked over to the pair; sitting on Danny's other side. "Now that we've seen what we're up against, it's time to put these fears behind you. You won't be alone. Everyone here is going to fight with you Danny. We'll be ready for him."

Danny beamed at his parents, forgetting everything about time visions and prophecies. They were right – he wasn't alone. They were going to figure out a way to beat Dan, together. "Then let's get to work."

:-=-:

Skulker paced in the air, frowning. Ember was recovering slowly, resting from the battle -The battle that the ghost child saved them from. The ghost hunter growled at that. Who did Phantom think he was? Flying in like that, rescuing them from that…other Phantom. Skulker stopped his pacing, lost in thought.

Even Skulker had to admit it; if any ghost stood a chance against that abomination, it'd be Danny Phantom. The halfa took down Pariah Dark! But this foe… he said he was the Ghost child. After Danny Phantom passed out – almost out of the blue- Skulker watched the human hunters gather close to the boy, talking about time energy and visions.

It wasn't until he saw Clockwork that he realized how important this battle must be. No one ever goes up against the Master of Time – let alone cross him. If the abomination went against the Time Master, and Clockwork has aligned himself with the boy, this ghost must be a force to be reckoned with. Skulker left quickly after that – his priority being Ember and the rest of the ghosts hiding throughout the town. Let Clockwork and the whelp deal with this ghost. He was perfectly content to avoid the next battle while hiding out at his human hunting store.

"Skulker."

The robotic ghost stopped pacing, turning to face Plasmius' crossed arm glare. Plasmius floated a little higher from the ground, glaring down at Skulker with his beady red eyes.

"Plasmius," Skulker greeted.

Plasmius grinned, flying down to Skulker's level. "I heard there were ghosts hiding in my town," he told his employee.

"The Zone was threatened," Skulker said simply.

"Ah yes," Plasmius replied, waving a hand. "I heard from the Fentons. They want me to secure the town and grant you all sanctuary. I had a different proposition for you."

"No."

Plasmius' eyes widened. "No?" he repeated incredulously. "Come now Skulker, this is a perfect opportunity to strike. While Daniel is busy with whatever threat he believe is out there, we can use this as-"

"No," Skulker repeated firmly. "Plasmius – this ghost is not to be trifled with."

Plasmius scoffed. "Please, the only ghost that can get me rattled is the Ghost King, and no one has made that mistake again. Not after last time."

Skulker shook his head. "Whoever attacked us had no remorse, no reason. He was cold, calculating and precise in any movement he did," Skulker explained. Plasmius started to pace, Skulker watching him anxiously before he continued. "He destroyed multiple realms with this… wailing cry." Plasmius stopped pacing, looking at Skulker with wide eyes.

"A wail?" Plasmius asked slowly. "Skulker, please don't tell me whoever you're afraid of doesn't have the same attack as Daniel?"

"Worse," Skulker replied bitterly, shuddering slightly. "If it wasn't for the whelp, Ember and I wouldn't have escaped. Even he could not stop him. The boy's allies said they had over a day to prepare for an attack – less now."

Plasmius looked at him for a moment, thoughts racing through his brain. Skulker waited as his occasional employer seemingly came to a decision and schooled his face with a smile. "Very well," he said smartly, taking flight again. "Hide away here Skulker – I won't stop you."

Skulker watched as Plasmius disappeared, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He stared down toward the attic of the hunting store. "If Clockwork has aligned himself with the Ghost Child, then we must too," Skulker said out loud. He grimaced slightly. "Why can't I just hunt easy prey?"

:-=-:

Danny closed the door of his bedroom, leaning his forehead against the door with a sigh. After a bit of training earlier in the day, a small planning session with friends and multiple interruptions by the Box Ghost, he had wanted to clear his head a bit. He could hear the mumble of voices from the various ghosts in the house, but up here seemed like a dead zone. Deciding to join the party, he walked down the hall towards the steps before he stopped, surprised; Sam was standing at the bottom of the stairs, lost in thought and frowning at… old family photos?

Danny frowned, curious as he started to go down the stairs. "Hey," he greeted from halfway down the stairs. Sam jumped slightly, before smiling back at him. She hadn't even noticed.

"Hey yourself," she replied. Forgoing the rest of the stairs, Danny jumped the rail and landed beside her. "Show off," she said, rolling her eyes.

"We're in the middle of a paradox here, there's no time to waste," Danny told her, a goofy smile on his face.

"I'm sure the world wouldn't end if you walked down the remaining five stairs."

"On the contrary, we don't know if could. Thought I'd take my chances."

Sam scoffed, crossing her arms, but a playful smile danced across her lips as he came up beside her. She was back in her regular clothes now, he noticed; hair pulled back slightly but fell gracefully at her shoulders. A time medallion hung around her neck, shining eerily under the florescent lights. He watched as her violet eyes scanned one of the photos from a few years ago. Her hand brushed against one where she, Tucker and himself were in the back of Fentonworks, looking carefree and lighter than they all must feel now.

"Seems like a lifetime ago, huh?" he said quietly, a twinge of sadness in his voice.

"Do you miss it?" Sam asked him softly. Her eyes were still glued to that photo, fingers gently moving over the three friends.

"Miss what?" Danny asked in response.

"Being normal."

Danny looked at Sam curiously, realizing that it wasn't just worry or nostalgia that brought her here; it was guilt. He frowned slightly, the question looping in his mind as he turned back to the photograph on the wall. Of course he missed being normal – that was all he ever wanted for high school. A nice, normal high school life to just… blend in. Normal kids didn't have to worry that one wrong move might destroy all of reality. Normal kids didn't have to stay up late trying to protect the city. Normal kids could date without worrying that their girl -friends would get possessed by evil plant ghosts. Yeah – he'd love to be just a regular fifteen year old kid… and yet…

He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye before shrugging. "Nah – who needs normal anyway? He replied wistfully. "My family were never normal. Tucker's not normal and he's one of my best friends. Besides, you hate normal – we wouldn't be friends if you thought I was normal before all this."

Sam smiled, a small chuckle of agreement escaped her lips and Danny's heart leapt into his throat. He watched her shuffle sideways, looking for another photo to look at. He watched her smile as she found another one, finding a small smile gracing his lips too.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, feigning interest in one of the photos.

"Tucker's downstairs at the main console," Sam said, not looking away from the photo on the wall. "He and your parents are working on separating your ecto-signature from Dan's." Danny frowned, reality slamming his happiness down in full force. "Jazz, Frostbite and Ethelwulf are prepping the lab and weapons for a planning session later. No idea about Clockwork."

"Ah," he said softly. Sam looked at him suddenly, and he inwardly cringed.

"I wanted to get away for a bit," she replied. "Everyone's working hard to help you Danny. You're not alone."

Danny sighed, berating himself for ruining the moment. "I know," he told her. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I do! I just…"

Sam turned back to the wall of photos, smiling sadly as she looked at family photo with a baby Danny hiding under a table while Jazz sat on top of it with a broom. "Wanted to get away from it all?" she supplied.

"Well, yeah."

Sam nodded. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, looking at the wall of photos and lost in thought. It was just the two of them – no battles, no plans, no fear. Danny felt lighter again, content at this small moment of time.

Tell. Her. Danny jumped as he felt the presence of his ghost half awaken in his mind. He glanced at Sam briefly, his heart bursting with emotion. They were in the middle of the biggest threat they've ever faced… was this really the right time? It could be the only time.

"Sam?" Her name escaped before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, his mouth went dry and words were very difficult to think of. "I… um.." he sputtered, cringing at the high pitch that came out of his mouth. She turned to him, amusement sparkling in her eyes. His stomach flipped with nerves. "Do you remember when we faced Nocturn?" he blurted out, panicked that he was pushed into a corner.

Sam's brow furrowed, eyes darkening with embarrassment and confusion. "Uh-huh…"

"And how I had to go into other people's dreams to wake them up?"

Sam blushed and turned away. "I think I hear-" she started, before Danny cut her off.

"I had the same one." The words came out of Danny's mouth before he could stop himself.

Violet eyes met blue, both slightly shocked at the admission. Danny's hand went to the back of his head, rubbing it nervously. There was no turning back now. "Sam, I –"

"Stop" Sam cut across, breaking their eye contact. Her arm grabbed the other, gripping it tightly as she seemed to fight with herself. Confused and hurt, Danny stopped talking, looking at her. "You don't get to do this."

Now thoroughly confused, Danny asked the first question that popped in his head. "What?"

Sam met his eyes again and he saw anger and hurt reflected back at him. "You don't get to say what you want to say and just run off into battle. This isn't some cliché movie scene Danny – this is real life. You had plenty of time this year to say what I think you're about to say. Why now?"

Danny stood there, wide eyed as he watched Sam seethe in anger. "I-" he started, but his voice cracked. What could he say to that? She whirled around suddenly, making an attempt to head back to the kitchen before he broke out of his stupor. "Sam wait!" he reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it slightly. Sam didn't turn back towards him, but did stop. "Sam…" he whispered sadly. "I didn't –" he sighed heavily, staring at her tense back in concern. "You're right. This is real life." She stiffened slightly in his grip, but said nothing. "I didn't know how to tell you – to change things. I guess I was afraid before," he breathed. "I'm not now."

Sam relaxed in his grip and turned around, watching him curiously. "Why?" she repeated, her voice full of gentle curiosity. She moved closer to him, staring up into his face.

He struggled slightly, trying to find exactly what he wanted to say. Sam, to her credit, waited, giving him all the time he might need. "I'm not afraid anymore."

"Right now you're not afraid," Sam told him, frowning at him. "What happens after this Danny? After you say what you want to say and go off to face Dan… would you regret it?"

"No," he said simply. They were inches apart now, staring at each other. Something was shifting in their friendship; it was terrifying for them both, yet it seemed so natural. This was his moment. "Sam –"

A cough from behind them made both teens jump apart, blushing furiously. They both turned, looking at the intruder darkly, before their expressions turned ones of surprise.

"Clockwork!" Danny exclaimed, his voice going higher than intended. "How… how long have you been there?"

Clockwork ignored the question. "We need to talk," he said. Danny's brow furrowed at his tone.

Sam sighed, bringing the boy's attention back to her. "I should be heading back down anyway," she replied with a small smile.

Danny frowned. "Sam wait," he started, but she shook her head.

"It's fine," she told him, her smile was bittersweet. "This can wait."

No it can't he thought bitterly. His frustration must have shown on his face because Sam gave him a look of bemusement.

"It can," she said again. She turned, giving him a small wave. "Let's talk later."

Danny watched her go, sighing as Sam disappeared into his kitchen. Later; he could do later. Turning to the ghost hovering at the entrance of his living room, Danny cleared his head. Clockwork, as always, betrayed nothing. "That was important," Danny said quietly.

"Not as important as this," the time ghost replied honestly. Clockwork turned, floating into the empty living room. Confused and slightly concerned, Danny followed him. Back still turned to the young half-ghost, Clockwork sighed. "Have you had anymore glimpses of the future?"

Danny crossed his arms. "You're the one who's all-knowing. Wouldn't you already know?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. When Clockwork didn't answer nor turned, Danny's stomach dropped in anticipation. "No," he answered. "Nothing else from what I've already told you. Just glimpses of the alternate timeline."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Clockwork's head dropped slightly, making Danny frown in worry. "What's this about Clockwork?"

"Do you remember what I said about paradoxes?"

Not quite seeing the connection, Danny answered anyway. "That they're like dead ends. Eventually they'll go into roads where they have to go on and not have as many turns right? Eventually, they just come to the main parade road and branch out again."

"My powers are fading Danny," Clockwork reminded him. "The paradox is solidifying, meaning that once it starts, my ability to control time will disappear temporarily. As will my ability to foresee any possible futures. The paradox already can manipulate time – as it has already done during your most recent encounter with your future self."

Danny sighed tiredly. "I'm guessing this paradox solidifies when I face him, huh?"

Clockwork finally turned; his solemn face more grave in his older form. "Danny, there are three possible outcomes here. Only one of them is favourable."

Danny sighed again. "Clockwork, I appreciate you giving me the heads up, but –"

"Stop," Clockwork cut Danny off. Danny stared, mouth open slightly before closing it. Clockwork's usual demeanour was gone, replaced by something Danny only vaguely remembered from their first meeting. "The first time we met, you escaped into that possible future attempting to face Dan. Do you understand why I let you go?" Danny, wide eyed, shook his head. "Think – what happened in the future?"

"Ghostly Wail," Danny said automatically, listing it off his index finger. "Faced Valerie and Vlad, found out about the Nasty Burger Explosion, the Time-" Danny stopped, looking at Clockwork in confusion. "Dan fused the Time Medallion in my chest keeping me in the future."

"Precisely," Clockwork said. The old ghost floated closer to him, looking down at the confused teen in front of him. "Time let you see glimpses of the future due to that Time Medallion but contrary to how I describe it – time isn't just a parade. It lives continuously; pulling from wherever it feels is needed. When Dan merged the Time Medallion with your core, Time gave you access to every ghost power you could possibly develop between your time and his. That's how you developed your Ghostly Wail."

Shaken, Danny sat down on the couch, rubbing his chest absently as if to placate his core. "So the Ecto-storm? My core powers?"

Clockwork nodded. "Were all dormant until that point."

Danny swallowed. "But you saw that," he said, frowning in concentration. "You saw all that and still needed to save my family? Why would I need to gain all these powers if I wasn't powerful enough to stop him?"

Clockwork looked at Danny expectantly. "Parade, Danny," he said, a hint of annoyance directed to the boy. "And you did stop him- you just didn't stop the rest of it from happening."

Danny looked down at his hands. "But, he exists outside of time," he retorted. "I sucked him into a thermos and because I couldn't save my family fast enough, he's here and your powers are weakened."

Clockwork sighed heavily. "Danny, you have come a far way from letting your fears control you. Do not let your doubt do the same." Danny sighed, acknowledging he heard the ghost's words. "And you're still missing the point. I knew the outcome of that battle. I knew what you acquire in going to the future. I knew you would need my help, which would make Dan exist outside the time stream. So if I knew all that, why would I let a fourteen year old child create the only paradox that does not let me see past it?"

Danny looked up at Clockwork, realization slowly dawning on him. "You… you wanted this," he said astounded. "The powers, visions… All of it."

Clockwork smiled supportively. "Dan Phantom grew up to be one of the worst ghosts in the history of the Ghost Zone; he destroyed the world, and the ghost zone, multiple times over. In meeting you, he inadvertently created the one ghost powerful enough to stop him. He would have continued to raze the world if I hadn't saved your family, leaving no one left to stop him." Clockwork's smile fell, and dread started to pool in Danny's stomach again. "This paradox is the best shot of defeating him once and for all."

Danny nodded, feeling the crushing weight of his powers and responsibility. "Three outcomes?" he asked, bringing it back to Clockwork's original conversation.

"Three outcomes," Clockwork confirmed, frowning.

"One favourable," Danny finished, closing his eyes. Silence descended on the pair for a few minutes, Clockwork watching Danny's body stiffen as he slowly realized what that meant. "Clockwork," he said eventually in a small voice, looking up at the Time Master. "I'm not… I don't… survive this…. do I?" Clockwork didn't answer. A memory of the Ghost King fight fluttered through his brain. I don't have to win, I just have to make sure that you lose!

Again, silence blanketed the pair, the tension and unease of the current situation suffocating the younger more than he cared to show. "That's why you asked Ethelwulf to train me, why more of these ghosts seemed to help train me rather than fight me? You knew that it might come down to this." Danny put his head in his hands, distraught. "All this time… you knew."

"I thought we had more time," Clockwork said sombrely. "You're fifteen; I gave you this second chance so you could live more -learn more. Even I cannot deny fate for a moment of my choosing." Clockwork's face softened, genuine concern for his young charge peeking through his indifferent persona. "The observants have barred me from interfering with the events of the paradox. It's why I'm telling you this; if there's anyone I believe can defy the rules of a paradox, it is you Danny."

Danny nodded, swallowing determinedly. "One favourable…" Danny repeated, curling his hand into a fist. Determined blue eyes looked up into saddened red eyes. "Okay."

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neverendingstories00 · 4 years

Text

Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.1)

Summary: Your the young and fiery Cryptographer for M16 who happens to be the obsession of the mysterious and disfigured Safin. When you threaten to bring him down, he makes sure to drag you down with him.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Minor descriptions of blood/violence

A/N: Please Read!! I haven’t seen any Safin x reader fics, so I decided to write one myself. Ik the movie comes out in November, but I cannot wait. I’m in love with this pyshco man. This will be a mature story by the way and I’ll try updating as soon as I can! I’ll add warnings before each chapter starts. Just take a few notes in! Ik the movies come out in November so this is pure speculation on Safin’s origins/motives. Bond is back in business and took back 007 while Nomi took 008. Reader is a Cryptographer for M16. Your codename will be C but y/n will come in soon. Also, Reader is female. Hope you enjoy!

The Pandemic had caused discord throughout London. It didn’t seem like it would infect the globe in less than three months. But when Q had gotten the virus, the office had shut down in less than twenty-four hours. If you weren’t a field agent, then it was required to work from home. For someone like C and Q, it wasn’t a big deal. All of there work required communication from electronics. But evil was always on the rise. It never stopped. March had dragged into June as the Pandemic only worsened. y/n wasn’t one for social interaction, so thriving in isolation wasn’t the worst thing on the planet.

M16’s biggest threat was the infamous Safin. Even Q couldn’t encrypt any information on him, nobody could. Safin was a prime example of an anarchist. He refused to let some Pandemic stop his reign of terror and thirst for world domination. His movement of so-called “absent authority” was causing terror in post-soviet countries. Violent protests, property damage, the list when on. The anarchist targeted smaller countries that wanted to break free from there governments. Bond called Safin “a man who wanted to play god because he was bored”. Safin was a true anarchist (and a possible sadist). Information on his past and whereabouts were near impossible to find. He would insult M16 constantly since he knew he was winning the game of cat and mouse. It seemed like Safin was going to keep upsetting established order until the brink of a civil war.

But you were always one step ahead.

C, or y/n, was a Cryptographer for M16. After Bond’s hiatus, they had been recruited for there work in the military. You were the perfect candidate; bilingual, hands-on, young, intelligent, and fiery. One of the many languages you spoke was Morse code and other military languages. Not even Q, the smartest man in M16, was fluent in all of them. But with your aid, he caught onto it quite well. The Cryptographer and Quartermaster had made quite an efficient team and friendship. While Q gave orders and signals to the double’s oh, you stayed in the back, encrypting the signals and decrypting codes. Having a Cyrptographer was truly an aid for M16. You were praised by all of agents for your hard work and loyalty to the world of espionage. Enemies and other organizations envied for the cryptographer.

Before the lockdown, you had noticed a pattern in the protests. The leading agitators would all wear bandannas covered in the phonetic alphabet. Any normal person could see nothing in this. But with years in the military and language, you quickly followed onto the pattern. Q had noticed it as well along with the other double oh’s. The only people who spoke the phonetic alphabet in M16 were you and a few agents, and not even Q could decipher such a code. The message said many things, mainly gibberish. But you did not give up so easily. Whenever you saw a challenge, you attacked it with rigor. After rearranging for hours on end, ten codes had stuck out to M16 that could be a lead in bringing down the anarchist.

ROMEO OSCAR MIKE ECHO

CHARLIE ALPHA CHARLIE ALPHA CHARLIE ALPHA SIERRA

ALPHA MIKE SIERRA TANGO ECHO ROMEO DELTA ALPHA MIKE

OSCAR SIERRA LIMA OSCAR

TANGO OSCAR KILO YANKEE OSCAR

HOTEL OSCAR NOVEMBER GOLF KILO OSCAR NOVEMBER GOLF

MIKE OSCAR SIERRA CHARLIE OSCAR WHISKEY

CHARLIE ALPHA INDIA ROMEO OSCAR

All of them happened to lead to capital cities across the world, which happened to be countries that were infested with Safin’s anarchism. With even more research, Q managed to pinpoint possible gatherings for the terrorists. It could be a break in the case. Each double oh was sent to these locations. 007 and 008 were both flown out to Rome. The location was near the Spanish Steps. Even after the pandemic, the area had been bustling with civilians and protestors. You and Q had been in charge of guiding them to the location,

“You’d think during this pandemic, these bloody idiots would stay inside.” Bond said as he moved past the crowd of angry protestors. He wiped dust off of his grayish-blue suit. Safin’s message of tidying the world of “corruption” sent shivers down any sane person’s spine.

Nomi was ahead of him, dressed in a white chic jumpsuit and cat sunglasses. “The wicked never sleep, Bond.”

He huffed, frustrated. Of course, when his vacation had been occurring Q would call for his aid. “Q, how much further?”

“Maybe if you would pick your pace, then you would get there in four minutes instead of forty.” Q responded.

C could hear Nomi chuckle, and followed along with her.

Bond annoyingly huffed, “I truly haven’t missed your remarks, Q.”

“Gentlemen, settle down.” You interrupted, able to see where the agents were through the bodycams. “Keep your guard up. Your getting stares from some protestors. Oh, and do pick up the pace.”

The two agents squeezed through the crowd. Nomi had noticed them being followed. But thanks to Q, they lost them through Rome’s small puzzle-like streets. Upon losing them, the agents had left the lavish streets of Rome and into the more sketchy and depressed areas. The further they walked the more life began to disappear. Bond and Nomi stuck out in there designer outfits in the slums of Rome.

“On your right,” You stated. The agents stopped, looking upon the building. Nomi took her glasses off to examine the building. It was broken down, dark, and covered by boards.

Bond sighed, “Bloody hell. This it?”

“Unfournelty,” Q said. “Head in the back, there’s an open entrance.”

Nomi and Bond turned to the back of the building, noticing a piece of wood covering the wood. Bond attempted to move it, but his age was beginning to show. The young and muscled Nomi tore it down, letting them enter the broken down building. On the side, it was dark and empty. Shining the light of his rifle, Bond noticed a kitchen that was covered in dust and spiderwebs.

Q and C heard faint noises, which sounded like music. Nomi moved close to the stairs and could hear it coming from the upstairs. Along with the music was a light.

“See anything, double oh eight?” You asked, looking through her bodycam. The song sounded Italian. It could have been singing, or just a record player.

“A light. You think we have company?” She asked, pointing her rifle upstairs.

“Seems like it. Investigate, Keep your weapons at bay.” Q ordered.

Bond had led him and Nomi up the creaky wooden stairs. The music had become much louder. At the end of the hallway was a door closed, with light emanating under it. The two agents tiptoed to the door. Bond placed his ear against it, hearing only the sweet Italian love song. Q and C couldn’t tell what was behind that door. It could be Safin, his goons, anything.

Counting down to three, Bond and Nomi kicked the door down, guns prepared for anything. But the room was empty. It had been lite by a few candles with a CD boombox, blasting a loud Italian song. Bond examined the room for anything suspicious while Nomi went over, kicking the boombox quiet. She picked up the CD player, examining the front.

“E’ la vita?” The female agent muttered, turning the DVD over. The other side had been written in morse code. C found this odd, squinting her eyes to see. The handwriting was neat and done in an expensive ink. Not only was there writing, but it seemed like it was a list of more global cities. It seemed oddly familiar. “Why waste good ink on a CD?”

“Double oh eight, can you r-”

Bond interrupted, “BOMB! GET DOWN!”

All C could remember is Bond running towards Nomi to cover her before both of there bodycams had glitch out. She panicked, trying to reconnect to them. Q had a status of all of the double oh’s, and each of there bodycams began to flicker out. Then Q and you had realized the worst of it.

Safin had set them up.

“Fuck. It was a fucking trap.” You huffed, running a hand through your hair. They had truly hit a dead end. “Q, any signal? I can’t reach them.”

“None. I’m trying to get their signals. There cams both locked out before the explosion.” Q replied. He was just as frustrated as his co-worker. Suddenly, both of there computers froze with glitched screens. “Not only was it 007 and 008, but the other double oh’s went out.”

C could hear Q cursing under his breath, the sounds of him furiously clicking his keyboard. “Shit, Shit, Shit..”

“Q, what is it?”

“He hacked us. Safin inflated the sys-”

Just like Bond and Nomi, Q’s signal that gone out. It had all be planned. Safin wanted for all of us to happen. The other agents had probably been killed. Sitting in front of a glitched-out screen, you let out a small sigh and slumped back into her chair. Singlehandedly, you had fucked up.

“Not such a clever girl now, are we?”

Raising your shoulders, y/n arched her neck back to avoid the sharp blade that was too close for comfort. The voice was velvety with a slight accent to it. From the videos M16 had received, you knew it all too well.

It was Safin himself.

“I-it was a trap..” You stuttered, unable to talk to the knife around your neck. Safin’s hand was on C’s shoulder, holding her from getting up. C heard footsteps from behind. Great, now you were truly defenseless, being held by the world’s most feared Anarchist. In the corner of your eye, y/n saw the white mask he wore to conceal his identity. It looked like a porcelain doll prop straight out of a horror film. “A fucking trap.”

“Your little friends are gone now, No one is here to protect you now” Safin whispered into your ear. He was too close for comfort. He took an inhale of your Chanel perfume, admiring your breathing pattern. He thought y/n was so gorgeous this close. After months of waiting, Safin was so close to her, yet far. The woman who had threatened to bring down him was now enwrapped in his arms with a knife to her neck. But she wasn’t scared. Her breathing was heavy, but Safin had noticed that she was rather calm for having a blade held to her throat.

You chuckled at his “weak” response, “I have your locations all on record. M16 will bring you to your knees, you monster.”

“A monster?” He marveled, amused by Y/n’s comment. This man was a true psychopath. “My dear, you truly live up stubbornness. You lead all of those double oh’s into there demise. How innocent does that make you feel?”

“Says the one who wants to kill millions.” Y/n hissed, venom in her voice. You felt the guilt pull at your heart. “I saw your plan. You’re killing Europe city by city. Fooling the post soviet states and moving up towards the Medterrian. Your delusional.”

“Your ignorance is their power.” He purred into her ear. He massaged y/n’s shoulder to relax her (as he held her down). “You are a very talented girl, wasting her intelligence on foolish old m--”

Seeing him lose his guard, you reached for your mug full of hot coffee and threw it back at his mask. He lost his footing and fell backward as the lower piece of his mask cracked off. Wasting no time, you pushed yourself up and ran behind the desk to the front entrance. Q’s flat wasn’t far away. If you took the right routes and stayed out of action, then he could help her. As she neared towards the entrance, a sharp sting echoed through your knee to your thigh. Tripping on the edge of your carpet, your tripped and scraped your head against a coffee table, falling to the ground. You tried to stay awake and fight, but eventually succumbed to the darkness.

Safin pushed himself up, noticing that the bottom part of his mask showed his chin and lips. He turned to see y/n’s body by the door, her navy slacks stained by blood.

Safin cursed under his breath, walking over to her body to check if she had a pulse. Thankfully you did, but it was light. “Who shot her..?”

His henchmen did not respond, holding their weapons.

“I SAID WHAT ONE OF YOU IMBECILES SHOT HER?” Safin yelled, pure fury in his voice.

One of the men, donned in black and holding a sniper rifle, stepped forward. “It was me, Safin. You said tha-”

The man with the sniper rifle was shot in the neck and fell backward, choking on his own blood. Each of the henchmen jumped back. They knew when Safin raised his voice that he was going to die.

A small sigh escaped Safin’s lips as he pushed back his hair. Safin turned to face Serrano, his right-hand man. He was tall and lean with dark skin and emerald eyes. “Serrano..”

“Yes, Safin?”

“What did I explicitly say to you to tell these idiots before we entered C’s flat?”

Serrano responded, “Not to bring her back dead, but alive and injured.”

“And what do type of girl do you see laying on the ground?” The anarchist pointed to the ground, showing Y/n’s body. She had a bruise on her forehead and a bloody thigh.

“An injured girl, sir,” Serrano replied, looking down in embarrassment.

There was an awkward between the anarchist and this men before he commanded, “The lot of you, take the girl and prepare the car. Serrano, wipe all of her devices and anything that can track her. We leave on the submarine by dusk.”

The men nodded as the muscule grabbed C’s motionless body and carried her out. Serrano destroyed her phone, computer, and any camera or electronic that lingered in the flat before they left the crime scene. Entering the range rover, Serrano sat in the front with the driver while Safin sat in the back with the unconscious Cryptographer.

As they began to drive to the docks, Serrano asked, “Safin, what do you see in this girl? She is not James Bond or Madeleine Swann.”

“I see a source of information. This girl is not some receptionist or analyst.” Safin explained as he looked at her sleeping body. Your face was more relaxed than it was thirty minutes ago. There was something so intriguing about the Cyrptographer that Safin couldn’t pinpoint. “She fell into her very own trap, letting us access all of the M16 databases. M16 just lost there most valuable asset.”

“A bargaining chip?” Serrano questioned.

“Not just a bargaining chip, but an intelligent girl who is going to be vital to us.” He explained, “Unlike Bond, she is not redundant. She has many values, I know of it. You will see, Serrano. The world will open it eyes to y/n.”

Safin couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The remaining sunlight from the purple sunset shined on her face. Seeing your face, he knew Y/n not only ordinary on the inside but the outside. A woman that was much younger than he was made him feel less bitter about the world. He had a lonely life and seeing a young and beautiful such as yourself made him drop everything to the floor. The way your floral smelling [y/h/t] [y/h/c] hair fell out of the small bun and rested on your shoulders, [y/s/c] glowed in the sunlight, and the sweet aroma you wore drove Safin mad. Unknown to your knowledge, he had been watching over you for quite some time. You had a desk job, but occasionally accompanied the double oh’s and even had taken out some of his henchmen in the past. Y/n was a girl who not only knew how to decrypt some of the hardest codes to M16 but could defend herself if needed. Safin’s mere intrguement with you had grown into an obsession. Now the woman he obsessed over was sitting less than a foot away from him. Upon seeing the cryptographer, he knew that he needed you. He wanted y/n more than anything in the world. M16 didn’t deserve such talent. In Safin’s eyes, all they had ever done for y/n was hold her back from being your best self; by his side.

“I’m sorry they hurt you.” He cooed, pushing a glossy lock to get a better view of y/n’s face. “I have freed you from there incompetence. I know you will demand to leave and mindlessly say that you hate me. But I promise you my sweet, you will grow to like me and your new home.”

Safin felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.

#rami malek #rami malek x reader #safin #no time to die #james bond #safin x reader #my writing

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whatissleepeven · 4 years

Text

Even If We're Betrayed by Destiny Itself (Obey Me! Drabble)

Thunder rumbled outside of the House of Lamentation, a crash of lightning following closely after and briefly lighting the sky.

Beel watched the sudden fat raindrops hit the windows, increasing in intensity until he could barely see the outside world anymore. It was currently 11:00pm on a Saturday, and he had found some leftover sushi from dinner to munch on before the sudden storm rolled in.

"Belphie's probably fast asleep..." He murmured to himself, remembering how his twin brother was practically cocooned in his blankets with a peaceful smile on his face.

"Tonight's gonna be a good one," the Avatar of Sloth had said sleepily before rolling over and clocking out for the night. Beel at the time was confused on what he meant, but now that he saw the storm he realized what the other was talking about.

Sometimes, I swear my brothers use magic.

A creak in the living room made him pause. He knew Levi was usually up, but his older brother rarely left his room at this time. Everyone else preferred to sleep in, but even Beel had to admit that there was a certain charm to having the House to yourself.

He walked over to the entryway and poked his head into the living room. Sure enough, the fireplace was lit and someone was nodding off on the sofa.

Beel finished eating, washing his hands and padding over to grab the blanket Mammon had haphazardly thrown onto the chair, making a conscious effort to keep his footsteps quiet as he rounded to the front of the sofa.

Honestly, it shocked him a bit to see Lucifer curled against the armrest, tucked away into the corner of the sofa; if Beel didn't know better, Lucifer was just lounging to anyone who passed by.

The dark bags underneath his eyes, tinged with the slightest bit of red at the corners, tipped him off.

He gently draped the blanket over Lucifer's body, his expression turning into one of worry. What could have possibly shaken the usually unflappable Lucifer? Mammon's debts? Asmo's spending sprees? Did you get into trouble again?

...Or is it -

Lucifer shifted, bringing the blanket closer to himself and settling in with a pleased hum, and Beel couldn't help the warm smile that formed at the sight. Whatever the problem was, they could tackle it together as a family.

I'm supposed to be his bodyguard, after all.

He frowned, his stomach growling at him to grab something else from the kitchen. That was in the past, though, and Lucifer was plenty capable of protecting himself. He used to be the Morning Star, an angel who shined brightly and seemed practically untouchable. Why would he even need a bodyguard in the first place?

- So that they had a way of subjugating him if he ever got out of hand, and that something like the Fall wouldn't happen. You were their contingency plan, and you failed. You failed both them, and your family.

"That's quite the expression you have on your face, Beel."

Beel blinked, eyes widening as he quickly located the source. Lucifer was sitting up, the blanket slipping off his shoulders and pooling around his waist as his crimson eyes shone with-...with something.

Beel shook his head, glancing him over. "It's not like you to be out here at this hour."

"Is it, now?" Lucifer's voice had an amused lilt to it, the elder brother patting the cushion beside him. "Sit down."

Beel stepped back with a frown. "I was gonna head back to my roo- "

Lucifer's gaze pierced him. "Sit."

Beel took a hesitant seat next to him, keeping his sight on his hands and on the ground as he rested his arms on his thighs.

Lucifer turned to face him. "Were you up for one of your nightly scavenges?"

Beel nodded. "Yeah. I saw the rain coming down hard; I don't think it'll let up until the afternoon tomorrow."

Lucifer made a noise of agreement, and all was silent for a few minutes. Beel wondered if he could leave, because like always he and his brothers had a bad habit of dancing around a touchy subject or outright ignoring it completely -

"I had a dream. About...About the Celestial Realm."

Beel's eyes snapped over to him in shock. Lucifer merely settled back into the sofa, letting out a short breath as he looked up at the ceiling.

The Avatar of Pride kept talking. "We were happy there. We were whole. All of you had such bright smiles on your faces back then, but now..."

- Oh.

Oh.

He could see where this was going.

"I think...I think we're happy here, too." Beel interrupted, feeling rather than seeing Lucifer's gaze trail over to him. "It's different from the Celestial Realm, but everyone still has fun. We're - We're still a family."

The last part came out less certain than he wanted it to. Lucifer picked up on it too, if him suddenly leaning forward to get a better look at his face was anything to go by.

Beel kept going, his hunger replaced by something softer, bittersweet. "I don't regret following you here, either. We stick together."

"Are you saying that because you want to, or because you feel the need to?"

Beel blinked up at him. Lucifer's gaze softened, a change so subtle that it was hard to notice. "Beel, what you say certainly makes me feel more at peace with my decisions, but your words seem to cause you pain. As your older brother, it is my duty to help you through this."

Beel didn't bother pointing out the irony of that statement. He was too wrapped up in his guilt thoughts, drawing a conclusion that hit him with the force of a hundred freight trains.

Why was I born if I couldn't even properly perform my role as Lucifer's bodyguard?

Is that all my existence amounts to? Does...Does that make me a failure?

"Beel."

Gloved hands cupped his face, turning his head to the side. Lucifer's own concerned face was a bit blurry, warping slightly from the warm liquid that pooled at his eyes, and wait why was there pressure there in the first place? He was fine a second ago, he needs to be fine -

"Is this how you've felt this entire time?"

Beel raised a hand to wipe the tears away, cheeks red with shame. Judging by Lucifer's reaction, he must've let slip what was on his mind ever since he found the older brother sleeping on the couch. He didn't mean for it to happen; he was supposed to be the Hungry Sixth Born, the one who focused on nothing but what to eat for his next meal. "...Yeah. Sorry about that."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Beel." Lucifer wiped a couple of tears away himself, and Beel marvelled at how caring he was again. He knew that it was thanks to your hard work, helping patch things up between the broken family and sewing it into something wonderfully new, and made a mental note to share some of his food with you during breakfast tomorrow.

"It's true though, isn't it?"

Lucifer removed his hands, eyes widening at his words. Beel was thankful for the lack of tears this time, his voice a bit shaky but overall stable enough to get his words across. "I was created with the intention of protecting you, but we still ended up here."

He couldn't even perform a simple task, for crying out loud, much less the only one he had. Their Father was surely laughing at him even after all of the centuries that have passed since the Fall, pointing out the irony of the protector turning into the protected.

Fate had seen fit to give him a clear role, but Fate also led him to utterly fail, even going as far as to take his sister away from his family due to one simple decision he made. It was a moment he would never forget; it was like a knife was plunged into his heart, cruelly twisting farther and farther as it ripped him to shreds the second Lilith's screams of agony pierced the air.

"Look at me." Lucifer's commanding tone seeped back into his voice, and Beel had no choice but to obey.

"No one faults you for what occurred back then. It took a irritatingly persistent human to point it out, but we cannot remain stuck in the past for the rest of our lives; we must move forward. What happened was painful, and will continue to be painful, but not once did I think of you as a failure.

"This merely means that your role isn't to be my guardian; it's to be my loveable younger brother."

To be...just a younger brother...?

Beel gaped at him. Was...Was that even an option? There was still so much he needed to do to help, and he was made to be both a shield and a prison for Lucifer (though he quickly discarded any and all thoughts associated with the latter, because he loved Lucifer too much to do that to him). "But - "

A finger flicked his forehead. "No buts. Nothing short of an affirmation will satisfy me."

Beel held a hand to the stinging spot, averting his gaze to the sofa cushions. This was new, this was weird, but if Lucifer said it was okay then... "Okay. I'll do my best."

Lucifer's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Good. Now come here."

Beel shifted closer as Lucifer beckoned him over, letting out a noise of surprise as he was pulled into a half hug.

"We rebelled precisely because we wanted things to change. Change isn't merely external; the most impactful are the ones that come from within. What matters the most is that we always stay true to ourselves, even if the entire world is against us."

Being in Lucifer's hold was...nice. Beel could feel his eyes dropping, threatening to close shut as he mumbled. "...Even if Fate stands in our way?"

Lucifer used his free hand to skillfully adjust the blanket so that it also enveloped Beel, staring into the flickering flames in the fireplace. Beel's breathing had evened out relatively quickly; the time and the sudden tears must've exhausted him.

His eyes softened into a gentle look as he glanced at his sleeping brother.

"Even if we are betrayed by destiny itself."

And if you found them the next morning wrapped up in a single blanket and leaning against each other, the other brothers having joined them sometime after and sleeping against them, you would never tell another soul.

...

Well, except for Simeon and Diavolo, who you immediately sent pictures to.

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fantastic-secrets · 3 years

Text

Butterfly Wings [2]

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke

Warnings: Threat of Violence, Dubious Consent, Oral Sex

Word Count: 1.9k

[Part 1]

When no more uncharacteristic, unsettling incidents occurred, even when the two men were alone together, Gin allowed himself to relax slightly. As he'd hoped, Rangiku hadn't come to Fifth Company, instead taking a position in the Tenth. Still, even though it wasn't the worst case scenario, it wasn't the best, either. If she'd been able to join the First or Second… but as he'd truthfully admitted to Aizen, she was nothing more than an ordinary, average shinigami. Shiba-taichou didn't seem like he would be an impediment to Aizen's plan, but Gin had secretly resolved to cut him down if he ever got in the way, before she could be exposed to danger.

Since she'd graduated from the academy, though, Rangiku seemed to have much more free time, which she sometimes spent trying to cajole Gin into spending more time with her and others. For the most part, he managed to brush off her invitations with vague excuses about work, all the while being acutely aware of warm brown eyes following him. Aizen already knew that she was the only person that Gin really talked to besides himself, so Gin struggled to maintain the illusion that he didn't have any particular feelings for her. If his fukutaichou seized upon the idea that she was his weakness, Gin had no idea what he might do. From what he knew of the other man, he was just as likely to pick her for his experiments as he was to promise Gin that she'd be perfectly safe from them. Still, he couldn't refuse all of her invitations, so he'd occasionally end up on the sidelines as Rangiku simply celebrated life while he quietly accumulated others' discomfort and distrust despite being a model shinigami.

He was returning from one such gathering when the soft grinding of a door sliding open caught his attention. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw Aizen standing in the doorway of his rooms, a freshly lit taper held in a candle holder. Once their eyes met, the older man disappeared into his quarters, leaving the door open. A quick glance around told him that nobody else seemed to be present--it was late, after all--and the only light in the compound came from the fukutaichou's room, since everyone else was likely asleep. Silently, he obeyed the unspoken order, following the flickering light until he paused on the threshold of what was clearly Aizen's private quarters. The man himself lounged casually on a futon, his robes draped loosely around his body.

"Come in and sit down," Aizen suggested, his tone no different than if they had been in his office. Gingerly, Gin stepped into the room and knelt beside his commanding officer. For a brief moment, a sly smile slid across Aizen's face as he reached out to clasp Gin's thin, pale wrist. Gin's mind had barely begun to process what was happening when it froze at the touch of cold steel at his throat. Suddenly, the bloodlust in the room was nearly suffocating, and he held himself deathly still, certain that any movement would be his last.

"Aizen-fukutaichou? What're ya doing?" he asked quietly after a long minute of silence, once he was certain his voice wouldn't shake. The feeling of overpowering dread lessened slightly, though it didn't dissipate, and the keen blade continued to rest against his neck. Even if he'd been inclined to reach for his own weapon, he couldn't do so without alerting the other man, whose hand remained loosely encircling his wrist.

"What does it look like to you, Ichimaru-kun?" The more formal method of address, which Aizen hadn't used in years, confused Gin. Of course, that wasn't to say that he couldn't think of a reason for this whole scenario, but he would never admit to it out loud. Still, he had a feeling that his usual blasé attitude wouldn't fly in this situation, either, so he chose to remain silent, studying Aizen's expression even as the other man studied his. In the end, the older man was the one to break the silence with a light chuckle, withdrawing his blade and setting it aside before releasing his grip on his subordinate.

"I apologize for that, Gin," he said, full of sincere contrition that Gin didn't believe for a moment. "I'd only wanted to surprise you. You're quite skilled at hiding your feelings behind that mask, so it's always a pleasure to see something else. And, of course, I'd also hoped that I could see your eyes again. Most people seem to think they're red, you know. It's an understandable mistake, given your coloration. Is there a reason you don't open them normally?"

"Ya said yourself that ya didn't want others seein' them, right?" Gin replied with a smile, the aforementioned mask back in place over the turmoil of his thoughts. "But even before that, this is just how my eyes are. Walkin' around with 'em wide open would be like ya walkin' around with yours shut. 'least, long as I can remember, I've always been like this."

"You're quite obliging, aren't you? I really do hope you're not this way with anyone else, or I might have to kill them." Though it sounded like a good-natured joke, there was an edge to the statement that made him wonder how serious Aizen was. Deliberately, the fukutaichou stretched into a sitting position, placing a hand on Gin's shoulder and pushing him down. When he started to loosen the younger man's shihakushou, everything clicked together.

Gin wasn't so innocent as to be unaware of sex, though he'd never engaged in it himself. Nor was he ignorant of the fact that, especially in the worse parts of Rukongai, rapes sometimes occurred. He'd seen the looks of some men when they saw Rangiku, leers that filled him with a cold rage that was only sated when their hot blood spilled at his feet. But he'd never considered that Aizen might want this from him, whether from actual desire or as another test of loyalty. He didn't have to fake the tremor in his hands as he reached up to wrap them around Aizen's wrists in a reflection of their earlier positions, not pushing the man away, just holding them. Still, it was enough to make the fukutaichou pause, looking up at a pale, drawn face devoid of its usual smile.

"Is this your first time? Or is it just that you're opposed to having me as your partner? If you don't want to do this, you only need to tell me so."

"It… it ain't that I don't like ya. I'm just surprised. I don't think there's ever been anyone who wanted me like this. And I respect ya, fukutaichou, but I dunno if I'm capable of lovin' anyone, either. I toldja before, didn't I? I don't have a heart. So I don't want ya t' end up disappointed, or hurt."

Aizen laughed, a warm, soft sound, as his right hand shifted to rest on Gin's chest. "I don't think you could ever disappoint me, Gin. For now, I'll be satisfied with just your body while I try to capture your heart, if you'll give me the chance. I think you sell yourself short, though. You're quite beautiful, in an unconventional way; I can't be the first person who has ever wanted to do this to you."

He leaned down to press a soft kiss against Gin's lips, his tongue lightly probing. Hesitantly, the younger man released his hold on the other man, though his body remained taut with tension until Aizen pulled back, leaving a breath between their faces.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle… this time, at least. I'm glad that I'm your first, so I don't need to break any bad habits," Aizen murmured. The words sent a chill through Gin, and a dark smile spread over Aizen's face as he felt the brief tremor. When Gin didn't make any moves to resist or push him away, a flash of satisfaction appeared in Aizen's eyes. Slowly and deliberately, he continued to undress his subordinate, tracing the defined muscles under the thin, pale skin as they were exposed. Despite the harsh training he must have gone through to graduate from the academy in just one year, Gin's skin was remarkably smooth, with few traces of scars. But for each one that he did have, Aizen's fingers traced its edges, lingering for a long moment before continuing their work.

Finally, Gin was fully disrobed, and Aizen sat back to take all of him in. The younger man's body seemed tense enough to snap, unable to conceal his nervousness laced with a touch of fear. Again, Aizen smiled, his eyes fixed on Gin's face, as he grasped Gin's cock. The touch made the silver-haired man flinch, and a shudder ran through his body as Aizen began to stroke him into an erection.

"Relax. I want you to enjoy this," Aizen murmured, every inch the considerate lover. Gin's body was slow to respond to his ministrations, but it eventually did, and he flinched again as the older man lowered his mouth over his engorged head. The tension between them changed as Aizen's tongue swirled around him, his dexterous fingers playing along his shaft with an ever-changing pattern. He seemed determined to keep his subordinate on the very edge of ecstasy as ripples of pleasure spread through the young body.

"Aizen… Aizen-san… please…" Gin wasn't even sure what he was asking for, and just when it seemed that he would be pulled under and drowned, the other man swallowed him deeper, just before Gin's hips thrust upward and he emptied himself.

Once he'd fallen limp, Aizen pulled himself off, crawling back up the pale body to clamp his lips over Gin's in another kiss. A trickle of something warm, salty, and a little bitter slid into his mouth, and Gin's first instinct was to spit it out, except that Aizen had drawn back and placed a finger over the younger man's lips, a light touch that forbade him from opening his mouth until he had swallowed it.

"That's good, Gin," Aizen praised him softly. "And you taste exactly as I imagined. Go ahead and rest; we'll talk more in the morning."

When he moved to pull the covers off his futon and over the younger man, Gin sat up, protesting as he drew his discarded clothes around himself.

"I can't letcha do that, Aizen-fukutaichou. Ya need t' sleep too. I can just go back t' my room. 'sides, it prob'ly wouldn't be good for your reputation, if people found out."

"They won't find out, just like with the former third seat. It would please me if you stayed, Gin." The reminder of the incident that had brought them together made Gin fall silent. He still wanted to ask how the man had pulled off that cover-up, but he wasn't sure if Aizen would answer him truthfully at this point. Yes, it would probably be better to wait a little longer: with this change in their relationship, he had a chance to establish himself more firmly in Aizen's plans and gain his trust.

If Aizen knew what he was thinking, he gave no sign of it. Instead, apparently taking the silence for assent, he nodded toward his futon. "It'll be more comfortable there. Don't worry about me; there's still some work I need to finish up, but I'll join you later. I won't do anything else tonight, I promise."

Hesitantly, Gin obeyed, rearranging the blanket on the futon before lying down. He watched quietly as Aizen worked by the flickering light of the candle, listening to the soft scratch of his pen. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted into sleep with the older man's profile burned into his eyes.

#bleach #fanfic #fan fic #Ichimaru Gin #gin ichimaru #gin #aizen sousuke #sosuke aizen #Aizen Sōsuke #aizen #mine

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vicecityhq · 3 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: flickering neon lights, the sound of static, retro video games. With a slight resemblance to HAN JISUNG of/the STRAY KIDS.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Nam Jaejin ALIAS: Crypto Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth Age: 21 Date of Birth: January 31st, 2000 Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: He/him, they/them Species: Cyborg Occupation: Bookkeeper of the Howlers, university student, hacker Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Tan Eye color: Brown, with a blue/purple tint at times Scars: Surgery scars where his enhancements have been added; in his right arm and chest area. Piercings: Right eyebrow, both earlobes Tattoos: When he is not actively using his enhancements, the mechanical arm silhouette on his right arm resembles a tattoo. (x) Hair color: Currently black with white highlights. Abnormalities: Added technological right arm and metallic elements to the right side of his chest. these enhancements affect most of his body/internal system as well (namely his lungs). he has human brains, but they are affected by the technorganic physiology as well. Horns/ wings/ etc: none Transformed form: His technological arm mostly looks like a tattoo to someone who doesn’t know any better. While actively using his abilities, his right arm and chest begin to glow with a blue/purple light and resemble more of a robotic arm/chest. This glow might affect his eyes as well.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Raised Catholic, later turned atheist SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Korean (native, dialectal at times), English (mostly fluent), Latin (basics) SECRETS: He has been behind a lot of major hackings towards the government/other significant parties during the last few years. Jaejin will usually attempt to blend in with “normal” humans and civilians, trying to hide both his cyborg-ness as well as his gang affiliation. SAVVIES: Technology, computer science, hacking, mathematics, video games, planning Powers & Abilities: Technorganic physiology, technology manipulation Traits: + quick-witted - aloof Aesthetics: Flickering neon lights, the sound of static, retro video games

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: January 31st, 2000

Date of Death: -

Crime Record: Multiple hackings against many different significant figures/parties, as well as countless smaller hackings. Involvement in gang activities, mostly relating to fundings. He hasn’t been found guilty for any of these crimes yet, but he is also aware that his record might not stay clean forever.

Background/Biography:

Born to a wealthy upper-class family in Busan during a cold January, Jaejin was, at first, anything like most kids. He had a younger sister. He had loving parents (albeit ones who had their expectations raised sky-high from the very beginning). And he had a few people around him he could even call friends. The kid was a little shy, a little nerdy, but nothing short of pure and kind towards the ones he cared about. His childhood was a little uneventful, but a happy one regardless.

Jaejin was nearing the age of ten when the unfortunate accident occurred. It was a dark October evening, heavy rain making it nearly impossible to see clearly. Jaejin was returning home from a friend’s house, hurrying down the street as the rain continued to increase. The kid decided to cross the street, thinking of the Nintendo Gameboy console waiting for him at home. The sound of brakes screeching against the wet asphalt made him halt where he stood. It was all blinding light and the loud howling of a truck’s horn before everything went black.

Jaejin barely survived the hit, perhaps by some miracle. What didn’t survive was the majority of his right arm. Most of his chest was looking quite vile too, having endured a hit that no human tissue really could. Some of his organs, namely his lungs, were damaged nearly beyond repair. He was barely breathing, only making it with the help of the beeping machines of the hospital. Jaejin’s parents, shocked and shaken up by the whole thing, quickly began to pull strings and search for methods for him to make it. It was a question of any means at that point. A decision that they would perhaps come to regret later.

The boy was taken to a private clinic that specialized in cybernetic surgeries. It was supposed to be just about repairing the parts of him that no longer worked as well as life required. But Jaejin’s surgeon was a charismatic man of science, and was able to convince the higher class family that some small enhancements to his body wouldn’t hurt. The Nam family was eminently very unaware of the lengths that some cybernetic surgeons went in the name of science and test-runs. So when Jaejin awoke some twenty hours later, he was no longer the same boy at all.

It wasn’t evident, at first. But over the years it became apparent that something had shifted after the surgery. The once very warm boy became aloof, often struggling to empathize with people. In turn he became intelligent in a way he necessarily wasn’t before. Jaejin's emotions weren’t completely shut-off by any means. He felt things, sometimes even strongly, but not always in the way others expected him to. And the boy was ashamed and alone with his thoughts. It wasn’t until years later, during his high school years, that Jaejin discovered the things that he was actually capable of. Accessing and controlling different technological components became something Jaejin got kicks out of, a different kind of excitement filling him for the first time after the enhancement surgery. And so what if hacking things was illegal? It enabled Jaejin to have control and power. It enabled him to have pride in himself.

After high school, once Jaejin had already enrolled in university to study computer engineering, an acquaintance approached him after a mathematics class. Even at first glance the young man could tell that the things he was about to be told were not something he could tell anyone else. He was asked to follow the man to a place he would later know to be the Howler’s headquarters. His skills and savvies were something they took interest in. And though Jaejin was nothing short of unsure about the offer, he figured he could stay around for a while. Even if only to help the gang with their poor money management skills out of pure curiosity.

So that was what Jaejin became – a gifted, witty student by day, and a hacker and gang member by night. He had gone by the codename Crypto even before affiliating himself with the Howlers, so it was natural that he also used that alias in his gang endeavors. Jaejin, having taken distance from his family a long time ago, was surprisingly willing to be included in a gang of all things. Maybe it was the things the gang did and provided him with that gave him a sort of thrill and excitement otherwise lacking in his life. Or maybe being a part of a group made him feel a little bit more human again.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Jaejin was, for the lack of a better word, in quite a robotic state.

Again, it wasn’t that the man didn't feel anything at the question. Sure he did: he felt annoyance at the fact that he had to be sitting there, in the police station, when he could be tackling his microcomputer architecture project due in a few days. But Jin also knew that it wasn’t really the typical emotion to be feeling while being questioned by an officer. Especially not if you were innocent (and he was, technically speaking).

“It all happened so fast”, he said instead. He was trying to summon some feelings of shock and maybe even sorrow. Jaejin knew those to be the typical feelings of a civilian witnessing a gunfight, after all. Except in this case it was more of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, not so much the fact that he hadn’t seen it before. It had been people from the Howlers, though; a fight against some other gang members (for reasons the man frankly didn’t know). And Jaejin had just happened to be there as the police cars arrived with sirens howling.

He wasn’t going to say any of that though. Jaejin wasn’t about to snitch on his gang members, not if he had nothing to fear. And as far as he knew, none of the scouts involved had actually been caught. The police had nothing on the situation. So he continued to speak in a manner that, in hindsight, was probably too calm for someone who didn’t know anything. This might come and bite him back at some point. “All I know that there were people in black, many of them. I didn’t really see their faces, probably a gang or something. Suddenly there was a loud noise of gunfire and that’s the part where I ran to the back of the warehouse.” Out of nowhere, Jaejin felt actual emotions surging to the surface. “I was... afraid”, he whispers in a small voice, “I didn’t want to get hurt. To die.”

Except it wasn’t really his own life he was afraid for. Jaejin found himself back in the situation, the same emotions rushing through him. He was afraid for them. For his own gang members. For better or for worse, the people who accepted him when no one else had. For the first time in a long time, Jaejin was afraid of losing someone (not that he would admit it out loud, though).

#vcaccepted #vchowler #han jisung #stray kids #krp #finally got another bot boy ;-;#@david

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thewildomega · 4 years

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Star in the Sand (Sir Crocodile x reader) Soulmate AU

Summary: Everyone has a soulmate, one person that destiny saw fit to pair together, two halves to a whole. What happens though when a person goes almost half their life without finding that said person? What happens when a person has no one? Well they give up hope.

Finding his way to a small island he sighed and looked over the tiny town with a stoic expression, puffing on his cigar. "Go see about finding us a place to stay." he spoke to the man behind him without turning.

"Yes sir." Bonez said before walking past him towards the town.

Glancing around he let out a sigh and decided to go walk around and see what this place had to offer. He planned on keeping a low profile, not wanting the marines to be on him again so soon. He would have to start looking for a new crew, Bonez alone wouldn't be enough. Finding a small bar he headed inside and groaned at the occupants. Taking a seat in the far corner he ordered a glass of whiskey and then settled himself back, smoking and watching the people for anyone who might fit the bill. He sat there for a few hours, until all the light left the sky and night settled in. Finishing off his glass of his drink he dropped a few bills on the table and stood. There were a few men that had caught his attention but he would have to think on the matter. Walking down the street he glanced around to the different establishments, looking for the inn that Bonez had came to tell him about earlier.

"here..."

Furrowing his brows at the whispering voice he stopped and turned his head to glance towards the little raggedy hut. There looked to be only a small amount of light coming in through the stained glass windows. The wood that made the building was old and it looked as if it would fall down any second, the slate roof sagging at an odd angle. Turning his attention to the barely readable wooden sign in the tall grass he saw the words 'Physic readings.' Huffing out a puff of smoke he turned and started walking again.

"Crocodile..."

Snapping his eyes back to the hut he narrowed his eyes. "Who is there?" he asked. When the door opened with a creak he lifted his chin and stared with distrust.

"Come and the things you need the most will be revealed."

Growling in the back of his throat he took a deep breath, he was going to turn away, he wanted to turn away but he couldn't, his legs seemed to be moving for him. Dipping his head to fit under the door he stood tall and heard as the door slammed shut behind him. He was on high alert, this was by no doubt a trap. Looking around the inside he saw it fairly bare other than the small table placed in the center of the room with two chairs on opposite sides of it and a black candle burning in the center. Before he could say a word the chair closest to him pulled out.

"Sit."

Taking a deep breath he walked forward, the old boards creaking under his feet. Pushing out his coat he took a seat in the chair, not sure if the thing would hold up to his weight. "Alright I am sitting, now what?" he asked, his voice full of annoyance. When no one answered he growled, "I don't have time for this." he grumbled and went to stand but the candle flickered out, leaving the room in complete darkness. Stilling he listened, waiting for an attack.

"Don't be so impatient young man."

Suddenly the candle relight and when he looked in front of him he saw an old woman sitting int he chair in front of him. She was dressed in a hole ridden cloak, her grey hair a mess around her. There was a grey cloth tied around her eyes with blood staining it where her eyes would be. Her old skin was ridden with wrinkles and glancing to her hands he saw long and broken nails hanging from each finger. She was a ghastly sight, that as sure.

"It is rude to stare boy." the woman said in a hissing voice.

Slowly raising his eyes back to her face he saw her cracked lips in a firm line. "What is it you want from me?"

"It is not what I want but what you need." she told him.

Huffing he rose one of his brows, "I doubt you can give me anything I need." he told her.

"No I can not give it to you, it is something you must find on your own." she told him. Placing her hand on the table she opened her palm, "Give me your hand."

He didn't move, he wasn't stupid but the longer she looked at him the colder he became, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Gritting his teeth he slowly lifted his hand and placed it in hers. She was quick to flip it over, turning his palm upward. Next thing he knew her other hand was moving a knife of sorts towards it and he panicked. Going to pull his hand away he found he couldn't' move, couldn't turn to sand, and his eyes went wide as she brought the knife down, not again. To his surprise she didn't cut it off and deep slice to his palm was all that occurred, his lip twitching a little at the pain. Watching his blood fill his palm her grip on his hand stayed strong while she placed down the blade and grabbed a bowl with different things already inside. The smell was disgusting and he watched as she lifted his hand to dump the blood in his palm into the bowl before releasing it. Pulling his hand back towards him he looked at the deep cut and grunted. Lifting his eyes back to her he saw her now mumbling something incoherent. When then contents started smoking he frowned and knot his brows. The red smoke drifted from the bowl and started to circle him. "What is this?" he asked.

"You have two weeks." the old woman spoke.

"For what?" he asked. the smoke now seeming to engulf him. "Two weeks for what?!" he yelled. He couldn't see a thing, a strong wind blew his hair out of place and muffled any noise.

"Find your star."

Suddenly the chair and floor under him opened up and he was falling. Blackness surrounded him. Trying to turn to sand nothing happened and he started to panic. Falling downward he saw a flash of light and then landed on something on his back, a sharp pain in his head before everything went black.

..............................

Chopping the onion you listened to the music playing from your phone and sang along to it in your head. Lifting ht cutting board you dumped the onions into the skillet, scrapping the remaining pieces that had stuck to the board inside. Adding salt and pepper you moved to grab the garlic when a loud crashing came form the living room. Snapping your eyes to the room you let out a scream when you saw what it was. What the hell?! Taking a few steps over to the man that had smashed your coffee table you saw his eyes were closed, the back of his head resting against the bent iron frame of the shattered glass table. Covering your mouth with your hand your eyes snapped to the ceiling, expecting a hole to be there but there was no such thing. Looking back down at him you noticed he was massive, huge, he had to be at least seven feet if not taller. swallowing thickly you carefully moved over to him, side stepping the glass that covered the floor. Seeing a large gold hook in place of his left hand you furrowed your brows. Standing over him you scanned his body, grey pants with black boots and a black button up shirt, a green scarf like thing tucked into it. Moving your eyes up to his face you saw shoulder length black hair adorned his head with a few strands in his face. There was a long, thin scar that went the hole way across his face and suddenly you stiffened. This guy looked just like Crocodile from One Piece. Was he some kind of cos-player? If so he did a hell'a job with his outfit and prosthetic. Still though what was he doing in your house? How did he get in here? Seeing blood on his palm and a few drops under his head you furrowed your brows. Bending over you gently shook his shoulder, "Hello?" Nothing. "Hello." you said again. Moving your fingers to his neck you felt a pulse and let out a sigh of relief, at least he wasn't dead. You needed to call the police... but what would you say? They would never believe you if you told them this guy, that you didn't know, fell from the ceiling and crashed into your table. They already didn't like you, no doubt they would think you pushed him. Sitting your lip you stood and moved over to the stove to turn off the burner before looking back at him.

Grabbing the broom you quickly swept up as much of the glass as you could for now. Moving behind him you pushed your arms under his and lifted him up some. Trying to somehow get him off the mangled frame of the table you tried lifting him but lost your balance and dropped him, a small grunt leaving him as he fell limply to the floor. "Whoops." you muttered. Deciding it would be easier to just move the frame you untangled his limbs from it and lifted it up, carrying it to the other side of the room for now. Going back to him you rolled him from side to side while you swept up the glass around and under him. Grabbing the fur lined coat you balled it up and carried it outside so you could shake off the glass before laying it on your armchair to be taken care of later. Knowing there was no way you could lift him onto the couch you grabbed a spare blanket and laid it under him before rolling him back onto it. Glancing to the gold hook you knit your brows, should your remove it? No, it wasn't a problem right now. Moving to your bathroom you grabbed the first aid supplies you needed and went back to clean and bandage his hand, seeing him flinch a little when you patted the deep gash with alcohol. There was only a small cut on the back of his head and a large bump but you couldn't do much about that. Once you were done you brushed back his hair and checked his breathing. It was steady so that was good. Covering him with the throw from your couch you nodded. Standing you moved back to the stove and turned your burner back on. Hopefully he would wake up in a little while and then he would just go without giving you any trouble.

............................

Turns out he must have hit his head harder than you had first thought because he was still exactly where you left him when you woke up the next morning. Gnawing the corner of your lip you looked at his, what you assumed was, still sleeping form. Okay you would give it a few more hours and if he wasn't up by then you would call the police. Making your coffee and boiling a couple of eggs you grabbed the laundry basket and moved outside to hang them out. You had taken the liberty of washing his coat, seeing as it had glass all over it. It was extremely heavy when wet but you managed to toss it over the line with the rest of your clothes to dry. Okay laundry is drying, what's next.... trash.

Snapping his eyes open he shot up and looked around to try and figure out what was going on. Looking around the strange home he saw he was laying on the floor, well on a blanket that was on the floor but still. Another blanket was over his legs and pooled around his waist where it had fallen when he sat up. Feeling something on his hand he lifted it up and saw it had been bandaged. But by who? Where was he? Standing he felt his head throb and groaned, rubbing the back of his head to feel a large bump there. Brushing back his hair he looked around the home again and noticed things that he had never seen before. There was a large black thing on top of a a shelf with books lining the shelves. He could smell coffee in the air and something citrus. Listening for the owner of the home all that met him was silence. Taking quiet steps around something caught his eye out the window and he looked out to see someone doing laundry outside in the yard. Narrowing his eyes he moved towards them.

Unpinning the sheets on the line you froze when a large, dark shadow showed behind the swaying fabric. Unpinning the next pin you lowered it and revealed the mystery man. He was so freaking big, massive. Yep he definitely had to be taller than seven feet with his shoulders at least three across. He was staring down at you with a hard, uncaring look. Wow this guy was good. "You are awake." you said.

It was a woman, a small woman. Her hair was long and a reddish color. She had soft features and two sea blue eyes looked up at him, not a hint of fear or ill temperament there. "Where am I?"

Raising your brows you tossed the sheet into the basket with the other items and looked back up at him. "At my home." you told him.

"And how is it I got here?" he asked her.

Sighing you moved down the line to grab the next item, "You tell me, I was cooking diner last night when you quite literally fell into my living room."

"What do you mean I fell into your living room?" he asked and saw her point towards a pile of bent metal.

"I mean you appeared out of no where, smashing my coffee table. I guess you hit your head on it pretty good or something because you were out all night." you told him. "So now I'll ask you, how is it you managed to do that?" you asked calmly.

Frowning he looked at his hand and then at the woman and narrowed his eyes, "This is all just some trick. You are her, that witch, that old hag!" he growled and saw her brows furrow together, annoyance now filling her eyes.

"Might want to think about laying off the alcohol or drugs or whatever you are on." you huffed. Grabbing the last item of clothing you tossed it into the basket and lifted it up onto your hip. "Your coat is over there, take it and leave." you told him, going up the stairs. "Oh and your welcome for taking care of you and not having you arrested." you called back as you left him outside. Moving to your couch to drop the basket on it you went to the fridge to take out something for dinner. "Psychopath." you mumbled under your breath.

Growling when he heard the door slam he raised his hand to grabbed his coat but nothing happened. Frowning he tried again but still nothing happened. What the hell was going on? Marching over he snatched his coat off the line, tossing it over his shoulder and noticing the clean scent that came form it, she had washed it? Glancing back to the small home he felt a strange pulling but let out a huff and shook his head before heading down the path. Getting to the end of it he looked down and saw what looked to be black rock on the ground. Moving his foot to it he tapped the surface and found it solid. He had never seen anything like this before. Stepping out onto it he looked left then right, seeing nothing but trees in both directions. With a heavy sigh he moved into the middle of it where a yellow line was painted and started walking. He had been going for what had to be close to a hour now when he heard a noise. Looking behind him he saw something coming towards him with two lights in the front. Knitting his brows he stood there but then it let out this loud sound and swerved around him at a fast speed. Confused he heard it again and just did turn in time to see another one like before, only bigger coming towards him, this one not looking like it was going to go around him. Just managing to hurry off the black surface he watched as the thing went by,

"Get out of the road you fucking idiot!" a man yelled.

Gritting his teeth he tried to yet again use his powers but nothing would happen, not even a speck of sand leaving the ground. Panting he looked around, not knowing where he was. Feeling the start of rain he looked up and then around him at the trees. Turning his head back towards the direction he came he took in a deep breath before walking back the way he came. By the time he got back to the home the sky was almost completely dark and he was soaked. Glancing back towards the bent pile of metal he tried to think back on what had happened. He remembered the old woman, then he was falling. Sighing he moved up the steps and looked through the glass pane to see the small woman at the stove, cooking he would presume. Brushing back his wet hair he raised his hook and knocked three times on the door. Seeing her turn towards him, he noticed her shocked look before she finally moved over to open the door. She said nothing and he dipped his chin the tiniest amount, knowing he had no right to ask anything of her. "I would like to apologize for earlier, it was very rude of me." he said, the words tasting strange on his tongue. Seeing her eyes soft he raised his brows, "I don't understand any of this." he said, motioning his hand out around him. "I..I don't know where I am or how I got here." he admitted.

Looking over the dripping stranger you felt something pull at you and furrowed your brows. He looked tired, his wet coat hanging heavily on his back and the front of his shirt and pants clinging to him slightly. It was bad to say but he kind of reminded you of a wet puppy. Sighing you opened the door and stepped back to allow him inside. "Can you take your shoes off, I don't want mud all over the house." you said in a soft voice.

Doing as she asked he removed his shoes and left them by the door. Turning back towards her he saw her gone and furrowed his brows.

"Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Following her voice he went through a room with more books and a small desk with a strange thing sitting on top of it, pictures moving across the screen. This place was getting weirder and weirder.

"Here you go."

Looking to the woman he saw her holding out a pile of clothes and raised his brows.

"They aren't going to fit you properly but they'll have to do while yours are drying. There is a bathroom with a shower through there." you told him, pointing to the room to his right.

"These are your clothes?" he asked, looking over her tiny frame and knowing there was no way in hell he would be able to fit into the clothes.

"No, they are my ex boyfriends, he left them here and I haven't thrown them out yet." you shrugged.

Nodding he took the clothes from her and moved towards the bathroom. Looking for a candle or light of sorts he saw the woman come beside him, touching something on the wall before a bright light filled the room. Looking up to the ceiling he rose a brow and saw her walk away. Shutting the door behind him he set the clothes on the vanity and looked around the small room. There was a tub and shower, toilet and the vanity. It wasn't high class but it was functional. Removing his hook he placed it by the clothes and started to remove his wet ones. Figuring out the shower he stepped inside and huffed when he noticed the shower head only came up to his mid chest. This was going to be an annoyance.

..........................

Hearing the bathroom door open you finished platting the food and saw him walk around the corner. "Here you must be hungry." you said, placing the plate on the table along with silverware and a napkin. Moving to grab a glass you filled it with water and added it to the table as he walked over. The clothes as you imagined were too small, the lounge pants coming up to his mid calf and the t-shirt clinging to his frame that you could now tell was muscled. The large golden hook was still on his left hand and you furrowed your brows but didn't say anything.

Looking between the food and her he felt his stomach clench, he hadn't eaten a good meal in few days but still.

Raising your brows you crossed your arms over your chest, "It's not poisoned." you told him and saw him look to you with slightly narrowed eyes. "If I wanted to kill you I could have easily done it last night when you were laying unconscious on my living room floor." you told him simply.

Breathing out he pulled out the chair and sat down before lifting the spoon into his right hand, leaving his hook resting on his leg under the table. "Why are you helping me?" he asked in a deep voice, looking to her as she moved about the kitchen.

Washing your bowl and spoon you took a deep breath, "I don't know." you answered honestly.

He watched her for a moment longer before beginning to eat the hot soup, feeling it warm him up more. As he filled his belly he heard her moving around the house. There was a thump and then the sound of a rumbling before she walked back out.

"You clothes are drying, it won't take long." you told him. Noticing his bowl almost empty you looked to his eyes, silver, almost white eyes. "Do you want more?" you asked.

Nodding his had stiffly he saw her bring over the pot and fill his bowl again with the beef soup. "What is your name?" he asked as she moved away.

"Y/n." you answered, setting the pot back down and moving to fix yourself a cup of tea. "And you?" you asked as you turned back towards him, leaning back against the counter.

"Crocodile." he said once he had swallowed his food.

Raising a brow you looked at him with a bored look, "Yes I know who you are cosplaying as but what is your real name?"

Narrowing his eyes he looked at her, "I told you my real name, My name is Crocodile."

"This isn't funny, I am being serious."

Growling he slammed his hand on the table, "And I am being serious girl, I am Crocodile." he said in a deep voice. Watching her set down her cup and walk away he straightened his back, ready for her to attack him. When she walked back in with a book he furrowed his brows.

Standing at the opposite side of the table you flipped through the manga until you found what you were looking for. "You are trying to tell me that this is you, that you are this Crocodile." you said, moving the book in front of him so he could see it.

Looking down at the book he saw the pages were filled with black and white drawings. When his eyes focused on one that looked very similar to him he furrowed his brows. "What is this?" he asked.

"This is a One Piece manga." you told him, letting him take the book and flip through the pages.

"This is Alabasta." he said.

"Yeah that's when Luffy and Croc... you fought for the last time." you said.

Quickly flipping through the book he saw the whole fight and everything play out before his eyes. It was all here, every word said and everything. "This can't be real." he said in a low voice.

"Exactly, you can't be him because he is a made up character, he's not real."

"How many times must I tell you that I am the real Crocodile." he growled, glaring at her.

"You are crazy. Don't get me wrong you pull off the look well with the clothes and scar and fake hook but this is ridiculous." you said, growing tired of this game. "When you clothes dry I will drop you off..." You didn't get to finish your sentence as you were slammed up against the fridge. Looking to the huge man you saw him glaring down at you.

"I will say this one last time woman, my name is Crocodile. I was formally a Shichibukai, one of seven warlords of the sea, a pirate." he growled down at her. Raising his hook in front of her face he saw her eyes drop to it. "And I can assure you that my hook is not a fake."

Looking over the hook as he placed it to your throat you frowned and then moved your eyes up to his you furrowed your brows. "I don't understand." you said in a softer voice.

It would be so much easier to just kill her, God she had annoyed him enough but he couldn't. It was like his brain and limbs weren't working together. Looking into her blue eyes he felt the rage inside of him calming down. "Nor do I." was all he said as he stepped back.

#sir crocodile #Sir Crocodile x reader #one piece #Soulmate AU #Crocodile x reader

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