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glorified-red · 2 years

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Exhaust and Exhaustion

summary: Tim's back pain is as persistent as ever, he didn't realize how back it got until it was too late. A crash lands him in a cold harbor in the middle of winter. Thankfully Damian is close by to help.

word count: 6,820~

warnings: motorcycle crash, hypothermia, reference to pneumonia, bad self esteem, chronic back pain, reference to being impaled, Tim has no spleen

Ah the things I do to narrate a fanfic: call my car friend to figure out how motorcycles work, use remotes to demonstrate a car accident, deep dive Batman archives to figure out a villain, and sticking my hand in super hot and icy cold water to describe the feeling correctly.

Please don't be like me, my hand hurts.

It started off small.

He didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until it was too late.

Slightly repositioning in his seat as he tried to get comfortable, slow shifts in weight as he stood on his feet, even bending over seemed to take milliseconds longer.

He was just sore.

Cases piled up on top of each other to build a mountain of stress on Tim’s shoulders, weighing him down as he tried to go about his day. Each second he took too long on one, the others screamed his name. Rest was a fleeting privilege. He worked day after day, jumping into the battlefield just to end the night more sore than the last.

Pain was a constant, the only constant Tim knew at this point. When all else failed, he knew he’d wake up the next morning with new aches and pains he couldn’t quite trace the source back to. He could handle the punches, he could handle the fights and the injuries—he’d survived this long in the field hasn’t he?

Yet the internal pain that stemmed from nowhere bugged him. He tried the muscle relaxant again but even massaging the area lightly left him gasping for air. He tried sleeping with a heat pad over his back, but once again the heat multiplied in his muscles until he couldn’t move.

His own bed felt like an ocean of pain, the comfort of so many seemed to be his warden. After long days, he just couldn’t get comfortable. Tim would turn over slowly and feel every vertebrae hiss in disdain, the dull ache extending across his body. The energy it took to climb out of bed far outweighed the miniscule comfort he received from being in it.

The fire behind his eyes, the pain in his skull, blended down into his neck as it twinged, only for that heat to travel down his shoulder blades and into his aching biceps. The same pain that came from his back shot down his legs, leaving Tim clueless as to where the pain started and where it ended.

He was just sore, that’s it.

So Tim put on the suit day after day and pushed forward, brushing off the sparks on his skin that ignited every time he moved the wrong way. It was a small ignition, one he could ignore and pretend it didn’t affect every micromovement his body made. The heat swirling across the fibers of his muscles only fueled him more, pushing him to pick up more cases to prove to himself everything was fine.

It wasn’t bad at all, he swears.

He could still be useful, he could still be valuable to his family.

“You’re going to want to take a left at the next intersection, Red Robin,” his com buzzed in his ear, only to crack alive once more. “I mean right. Take the next right!”

His motorcycle hummed underneath him, a fast paced beat that matched the adrenaline rushing up his neck. Tim’s patience was wearing thin, every tiny bump the tires ran over caused pain to flare up his back, slowly chipping away at his resolve.

“Which is it—right or left?” he yelled into the com, watching as the intersection came closer and closer.

“It’s a right.”

“Got it!” He leaned to turn the bike, feeling sharp claws dig into his back, squeezing his spine as punishment for daring to move so drastically. He could feel his jaw tighten, he refused to make a sound as it would alert the entire com system.

They were all on edge tonight, they didn’t need another inconvenience—that’s all he was if he wasn’t useful.

Tim wasn’t the only one with a high case load. December: the dreaded month for heroes. Crime rate skyrockets as the temperature plummets, making it the worst month for patrolling in history. Every utility belt was packed with hand warmers, yet, Tim didn’t feel the need for them, the pain in his body doing far too well at keeping him warm.

Tim could hear gunshots crack through the com line, shortly followed by the faint echo bouncing off the buildings, barely covered by his bike engine.

“Are those gunshots, Hood? This is supposed to be recon,” Nightwing spoke through the coms.

“I don’t think these guys got the memo.” Tim could hear Jason curse under his next breath. “Looks like they’re relocating weapons. From the looks of it—” a gunshot blasted in Tim’s ear “—it’s mostly small firearms, but I’m more concerned about the Ghost Kits they’re building.”

Tim cursed, the spike in pressure infecting the entire com system. Tim’s bike revved as he bypassed another traffic light. “Selina was telling me about these guys, they call themselves the Dockyard Dogs. They have a knack for controlling ports just for weapon trafficking.”

NIghtwing spoke up, “I thought they stayed more towards the Southwestern ports, why would they take over Port Adams? That's all the way across the city.”

Tim's brain stalled, a blurry fuzz taking over as the pain rose slowly, creeping up his spine with its menacing claws. Memories of case files filtered through his mind, any semblance of connection was drowned out by the pain. He jumped a curb, swerving past parked cars and feeling his body pay the price—he bit his tongue hard.

“Does it really matter right now?” Hood called out, “There’s too many of them and I can only hold them off for so long, I need an ETA—now!”

Oracle chimed in, “ ‘Wing just exited Grant Park, he should be a few minutes away. Red, take the Apara Expressway and you’ll have a straight shot to his location. I’m sending Robin the location as well, he’ll be right behind Red.”

“The Demon Brat is on patrol tonight?” Jason huffed, the background noise of his com turning into static as he ran.

Tim took the on-ramp, having to lean forward as his bike took the incline. His fingers twitched against the handlebars, feeling electricity cut through his skin, creating cracks up his back.

A new line sparked alive and Damian’s voice came through: “I was looking into a personal case but you incompentant fools can’t seem to stay alive without me for a single night.”

The expressway was empty aside from a few late-night drivers. Tim leaned to merge only for his spine to riot. He immediately leaned up with a sharp inhale, correcting the shakiness of his bike in a jerk. He slowly exhaled, opting to stay on the shoulder of the highway next to the small railing protecting cars from the icy cold water below the expressway.

This was fine, shoulders were designed for emergency vehicles anyway.

“Not exactly my definition of a Knight In Shining Armor.”

Tim could imagine Dick rolling his eyes at Jason before he spoke, “Thank you for the assist, Robin.”

Just above the hum of his engine, Tim could hear a few cars from behind him. (Gotham citizens truly have no concept of time.) He could see the glint of headlights in his mirrors. His eyes lifted to the road once more as the cars started to pass him.

Yet, all it took was one breath.

He saw the crash before he heard it, a simple miscalculation and then a piercing sound that cut straight through his pain-muddled brain. Before he had time to react, the cars swerved, tires screeching just moments away from him. A ricochet, and one of the cars hit the railing seconds in front of Tim, the car flipping off the edge as the other was left teetering between certain death and salvation.

Tim immediately pressed in the brake of his motorcycle, leaning all of his weight to one side while his tires screeched. His only hope was to slide out of the way, a small feeble attempt.

The car was too close, Tim had too much momentum, even as his bike slid sideways in Tim’s favor, he lost control. As his tires leaned too far to the left they caught traction, causing the bike to wobble at a fast pace.

With his spine counter-twisting with the bike the pain in his body reached its fever pitch. It gripped his whole body with its agonizing hand until his foot slipped from the brakes too soon with a sharp gasp of pain. Momentum carried the bike forward without Tim wanting it to.

Tim flipped off the bike, his body catching the rough edges of the expressway before falling through the gap of railing. The screech of tires, the thunderous collision of his bike and the car, it all pierced through his skull until his ears throbbed along with the rest of his body.

He heard the wind rush past his ears as he fell. Every inch of his skin exploded in agony after twisting and tumbling off the edge of concrete. The pain blinded his vision until all he could rely on was the distant sounds of his family calling his name through the com in his ear.

“—that a crash?”

“What happened?”

“Red?”

“—not responding.”

“Red Robin!”

A final gasp of air and his back collided with the water.

Cold slammed into him, seeping into his muscles until it frosted over each of his nerves. Pain warped around him along with the water. The sensation was as sharp as it was cold, overriding his body too far until all he registered was the bite. Searing pain so hot it tinged cold, like his hand hit boiling water and his pain-riddled brain could only comprehend the overwhelming cold before the blistering heat took over.

The cold lining his skin fought against the searing pain inside his body. Terror shot through him as the icy wwater sucked all the warmth from Tim’s body, leaving an aftertaste of frigid numbness.

Frosted fingers squeezed out the last bit of air in his lungs until water refilled them slowly until he froze from the outside in. Every ounce of sensation that wasn't cold completely left his body.

Tim’s mind flew, trying to grasp onto his survival instincts. He began to twist, racking his hands through the water in an attempt to claw his way to the surface. The miniscule movement triggered the pain to flare up through the numbness, bursting through the ice to remind Tim it was still there.

He choked on the water only to inhale even more. Tim was forced to still, the pain too overwhelming to risk moving again. The water around him was winning. It slowly dragged his body deeper into the darkness with little fight from the boy.

The static from his waterlogged brain sounded like laughter in his ears, the water overjoyed at its newest victim.

Tim opened his eyes, the small movement was sluggish as his body disconnected from itself. The moon looked warped from his view. The small current in the water smeared its beauty like a hand running through paint. Either way, Tim cherished the view.

He didn’t realize it was this bad.

He didn’t notice how worn thin he was. The pressure of perfection weighed heavy on his shoulders.

He wasn’t fast enough—Jason could have avoided the accident.

He wasn’t observant enough—Dick could have predicted the accident.

He wasn’t smart enough—Damian could have prevented the accident.

And Batman? Batman could’ve done it all and more.

If he wasn’t enough, did his family need him anymore?

He was just a placeholder anyway. This small mistake only proved to Tim that his time was up. He knew it was coming now that Jason was back, he just wanted to leave on his own terms. He didn’t expect to be forced from them so soon.

Tim had a plan. He had a deadline, a series of emails, messages, and letters pre-written to explain his disappearance.

To explain that he was just taking his leave—it was coming anyway. He was simply a replacement, meaning he was only as needed as he was useful.

So as he descended further into the cold, he let the water wash away his pain. Tim’s eyes slipped shut as bliss surrounded him.

⋘⋙

“Was that a crash?” Jason sounded winded, a fist fight breaking out on his side of the comline. “This night seriously can’t get any worse.”

Dick’s voice crackled to life. It sounded like he made it to Jason’s location from the sound of leather hitting leather. “That was from Red’s line. What happened?” A beat of silence. “Red?”

“He’s not responding,” Jason grunted through another punch, “Why isn’t he responding?”

“Red Robin! Come in!”

“His bike is offline.” Furious typing crossed over the coms as Oracle pulled up a separate tab.

“His tracker is . . .it’s in the harbor.”

Damian revved his bike as he merged onto the expressway. His impatience grew thin as the coms filled with worried shouts—he cut through it.

“Focus on the mission. I will handle Drake.”

Oracle’s voice was clear in his ear, a private line connected her with his com, drowning out the voices of his brothers.

“You need to work fast, Miller Harbor is one of the most polluted harbors on the Eastern Seaboard. I don’t know how well his antibiotics will hold up against pneumonia.”

Damian’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Antibiotics?”

He heard her sigh from over the com. “It’s—it’s a long story. Just get him out of there okay?”

Damian’s bike sped up, he weaved around the slow cars on the road. “Obviously,” Damian said over the gush of wind around him. “Why does he take antibiotics? That’s not on his medical list.”

Oracle didn’t bother asking why Damian read through Tim’s chart.

“Like I said, long story. The short version is the kid doesn’t have a spleen, so when I tell you you need to hurry, I mean it.”

Damian resisted the urge to shout, the private line still nagged at him.

“Who else knows?”

He parked the bike swiftly next to the crash, giving the wrecked Batbike a glance.

“Me, Alfred, and now you.”

Damian tisked, his frustration echoed through the line. He made his way to the edge of the bridge. With the metal railing destroyed, it made it easy to peer over the water.

“So you idiots are keeping life threatening information a secret? This could get him killed.”

He quickly unlatched the cape from his uniform before digging through his utility belt with practiced ease.

“There’s a lot more to this than you know, Robin. It’s not my story to tell either, he barely told me more than what was necessary at the time. If you want to know more you’re going to have to ask him.” She breathed, worry scratching at her tone. “Please, don’t tell anyone just yet, let Tim have that at least.”

Damian sighed out harshly. “This conversation isn’t over. We’ll continue this when he’s home safe.”

He swiftly secured a rebreather to his face, taking a few steps back away from the edge of the expressway. With a running start, he dove straight into the water below. As his hands broke the surface tension, his body felt none of the impact until seconds after.

The first thing he registered was the cold. His temperature compressing suit did little to help him against the onslaught of bitter water. Any crack in the seams of his suit gave way to water until his skin felt every single drop that surrounded him.

Damian bit down on the rebreather to keep it secure, water bubbles floated around his face as he exhaled sharply. His mind craved to drift away with the current, to revisit every painful memory that left him this cold, this stranded.

Years of training refocused his mind in milliseconds, no longer feeling the bite of the cold around him. The eye cutouts of his mask searched the area, scanning every inch of space around Damian until it zeroed-in on a glint of sharp red.

For once, Damian was grateful for the obnoxious winged cape Tim wore.

In an instant, Damian shot through the water, his muscles already weaning from the cold. When his hands grasped Tim’s upper arm, he pulled, dragging Tim in close. The white of his mask was nothing but thin lines meaning Damian didn’t have much time.

As Damian tried to swim upwards, the feathered cape did nothing but turn the water into molasses. Twisting through the water, he unclasped the offending cape, letting it flutter further down into the darkness. Within seconds, Damian was able to swim up to the surface, no longer having to fight against the weight of Red Robin’s uniform.

He clung to his brother as he resurfaced, hating how easily his head lolled uselessly against his shoulder. Damian shook the shoulder upwards, trying to hopefully rouse the fallen bird. Tim did nothing but slip from Damians grasp at the motion.

With hands catching for purchase, Damian tightened his hold on Tim, his feet pedaling to keep them afloat. With too much water in his lungs, Damian couldn’t transfer the rebreather over so he bit down on his own in frustration.

A second and Damian was able to reach for his grappling hook. He hated only being able to hold onto Tim with one hand but he didn't have much of a choice. As the wind roared against their bodies, they shot through the air. It was not a graceful landing in the slightest and Damian would feel the prick in his neck from the lack of perfection, but the way Tim flopped onto the bridge like a ragdoll quickly broke Damian out of his stupar.

He snapped the rebreather off his face. It landed somewhere beside him but he paid it no mind, opting to position Tim onto his back instead. When Tim’s head followed the flow of the motion, Damian grasped his head in both hands to steady it. That simple movement made Damian keenly aware of just how pale Tim was against the black of his gloves.

All the color in Tim’s face was drained, leaving nothing but patchy paleness in its wake. With no rise and fall of his chest, Damian checks for a pulse, pressing two gloves fingers harshly into his brother's neck.

“You’re out of the harbor,” Oracle crackled in his ear, her timing always impeccable. “Status report.”

Damian’s jaw was tense but he forced it to relax so he could speak. “No pulse, administering CPR now.”

He broke open the clasps at the front of Tim’s uniform to quickly place his hands in the proper position. “You just have to make things difficult don’t you?” he whispered into the air, occupying his brain while it counted each push. “Grayson will not forgive you for giving up so easily, Drake. Nor will I, this is a pathetic way to go—so breathe, you idiot.”

His arms burned. The cold striped away most of his strength and he was only in the water for a few seconds, barely a full minute. He didn’t want to think too hard about the implications for Drake, the man who was trained to hold his breath for more than five minutes like the rest of the family.

His biceps ached with each harsh push, the effort of CPR was always underestimated, not to mention after the trials of getting Tim here to begin with.

Oracle chimed in when Damian huffed out, his breath puffing like a cloud of smoke from the winter air. “The batmobile is on its way. I called in B for reinforcements, Hood and Wing are still occupied.”

Damian looked down at Tim whose lips barely parted and eyes closed tight. “What am I supposed to tell him,” he growled, out of breath as his shoulders screamed, “You idiots decided to keep this a secret and now it might get him killed.”

Damian was seething. His brother was here without a pulse, dying under Damian’s hands when this could have been handled with much more grace.

Oracle hesitated, “If you knew the full story you’d understand why this is a secret. Alfred is already setting up the medbay to take care of Tim’s…case. Right now we need to focus on the immediate concerns, especially his hypothermia. His body temperature is well below his average and B is aware of this.”

“Fine,” Damian bit out.

With one last hard shove on Tim’s sternum, the bone fractured, allowing Damian to reach his heart easier to manually pump it.

“Goddammit you fool, breathe!”

The sound of choking wet coughs never sounded so relieving. Without wasting any precious time, Damian turned Tim forward onto his side, allowing him to stop choking on the water escaping his lungs.

“He’s breathing O,” Damian said, his hand rubbing up and down Tim’s back, feeling every shudder and cough and trying to ease them. The fire in his arms eased, but every time he moved them the soreness would resurface. He couldn’t help but place his fingers over Tim’s pulse point, counting each of the beats until Damian was sure it would keep beating without him.

He heard the breath of relief in his ear. “Thank god. B is a minute out, try to keep Red as warm as you can until he gets to you.”

“Understood.”

There wasn’t much Damian could do. If he wasn’t so focused on the sound of Tim’s labored breaths, he himself would be shivering uncontrollably. He could feel his muscles tensing from the cold, his soaked uniform doing little to help.

The whites of Tim’s mask opened minutely, a thin line turning into just a bit more. “D-Dami?” he couldn’t speak above a whisper, his eyes blinking away the fog of his brain.

“Right here,” he continued to rub up and down Tim’s back despite the two wet fabrics making the movement clunky, “B is on the way.”

Damian could see the confusion wash over Tim’s face as he blinked slowly. “What—” he coughed, more dark water falling from his lips.

“You crashed,” Damian could hear the batmobile’s engine a few miles away, the sound imperceptible to everyone save the few who were trained to hear it. “Any injuries to report other than your fractured sternum and terrible timing of hypothermia?”

Tim hesitated. Damian couldn’t tell if it was the brain fog from drowning or just pure incompetence, but the longer Tim took to respod, the more it ebbed at him. He watched the mask irises droop and quickly snapped his fingers in front of Tim’s face.

“Stay awake, we can not have you falling asleep.”

Tim whined. The sound was so pained he knew it was instinctual. “C-Cold.”

The sound of tires screeched close by.

“I’m sure you are. Be patient for a few more moments and we’ll get you warm.” Damian turned towards his father, the man rushing forward until he could kneel beside his children. Damian couldn’t help but feel relieved in his fathers presence—Batman was here, everything would be okay.

“Hey chum,” his voice was strained, the practiced calm covering the worry he felt inside, it was the same voice he used every time one of his children was down. Instantly, Bruce’s cape was unclasped and wrapped over Tim’s body, warm fabric soothing out the cold edges of Tim’s skin. Bruce’s hands reached out, one firmly grasping Tim’s limp hand while the other brushed back soaked bangs. “Can you tell me where you’re hurt? I don’t want to make things worse trying to move you.”

Tim leaned into the warm touch, the leather gloves felt like burning irons against his skin. When Tim didn’t respond, brain too muddled from the effort it took to breathe, Bruce turned to Damian.

“Fractured sternum from CPR and the obvious hypothermia. There are no more injuries from what I could tell, all his ribs are intact and there's no sign of external injuries.”

Bruce let out a controlled breath, his eyes falling back down to the injured bird. “I’m going to move you okay? We need to get you to the car.”

Tim nodded sluggishly, whispering out a “ ‘kay” in confirmation. With the affirmation, Bruce began to slide his arms under Tim’s weakened body. They all jolted when Tim let out a choked whine, grasping at Bruce’s shoulder in pain.

“St–stop.”

Bruce froze while Damian’s heart sank.

“ ‘s my back,” Tim clung to Bruce’s shirt, his body seeking out the warmth the older man provided.

Bruce had a million questions and Damian could see each one float to the tip of his tongue before being swallowed down—it’s not the time. “Okay,” he breathed, “Can you hold out a few moments for me? It’s going to hurt but we really need to get you to the car.”

Damian eyed the man, his own confusion bubbling to the surface. Had he hit his back on the car when he crashed? Did the surface of the water slam into his back that hard? There were no signs of external damage, his spine was intact, there should be no reason for pain.

Yet pain was a fickle thing. It flared up in places without any source and Damian was no stranger to chronic pain.

Tim whined but collapsed further into his father’s hold, signaling he was going to try. Bruce spoke reassurances into Tim’s hair as he lifted the kid off the ground. Each micromovement left Tim reeling, grasping at Bruce’s uniform to cling to something.

“I know it hurts, chum, I know it does.” Damian followed to the batmobile, lingering off to the side as Tim was placed in the backseat. He couldn’t ignore the pained gasps from his older brother.

Tim Drake. The seemingly perfect model of what Robin was supposed to be, yet here he was, breaking in front of Tim’s eyes. Bruce barely had a say before Damian squeezed into the backseat with Tim.

Damian ignored the outside world as he continued with the medical training he knew. The batmobile roared as it started, every inch of the space was blisteringly hot as the heat was turned as high as it could go. It was mercy for Damian as well as much as he hated to admit it.

With skilled hands, Damian slipped Tim out of the majority of his uniform, gloves slid off, boots and utility belt, even the pesky spandex put up a fight. Damian was trying to be gentle as he worked, but he could hear every hitch in Tim’s breath when he had to shift the fabric off. Batman’s cape covered Tim’s cold body before Damian unraveled even more blankets to cover him with, each one was a spare safety tucked into the car for cases just like this.

Damian could feel Bruce’s eyes linger in the rearview mirror, watching to make sure everything was okay. “Stay awake, Drake,” Damian would say every time he watched the other’s eyes droop.

He would poke his face and snap his fingers every available chance he could.

“ ‘m tired,” Tim would mumble, only for the pain in his back to jolt him awake.

“That is no excuse. You must stay awake.”

Tim would groan and hate Damian even more, but Damian didn’t care. After everything he’s done to Tim, after every death threat and screaming match, they were still brothers. Their relationship was rocky at best but there was an underlying promise to protect each other. Admitting their care for one another was never easy and was far and few between, but Damian knew.

Tim would stay awake in Damian’s window nook, claiming he was just bored, but they both knew he heard the noise of Damian’s nightmares.

Damian would pass a plate to Tim throughout the night, claiming he had leftovers and wouldn’t want them to go to waste—but they both knew Damian noticed Tim’s lack of nutrition.

So he’ll be damned if his brother slips from his fingers.

Watching Tim float through the next few hours was painful at best. Even Bruce was left useless once Alfred shooed him out of the room, claiming too many people when the room was only full of Barbara, Alfred, and himself.

Damian couldn’t tell if it was a blessing to be in the room or a curse. On one hand, Damian knew what was going on when Babs hooked Tim to multiple IV lines and Alfred attached a heated oxygen mask to Tim’s face. He could see the antibiotics being injected into Tim’s body and the hope it instilled in the room.

But on the other, he watched the growing tension in Alfred’s brow as Tim’s eyes fluttered, his mask discarded to show the tired blue bell eyes. He felt the anxiety himself as he clung to his brother. He could do nothing but hold Tim close to his chest, being responsible for giving Tim adequate body heat.

Babs didn’t comment on how much Damian needed the body heat in return, she saw for herself when Damian’s body temp dipped.

The room was tense and quiet, too busy listening to the wheezes that left Tim’s lips. As much as they hated the sound, it meant he was still alive.

So Damian held on.

⋘⋙

Waking up came in fragments.

The first time he felt nothing. His entire body felt numb, floating between the cold and the surrounding warmth. His skin was cold with a buzz of heat to it, it was conflicting and left Tim confused underneath the brain fog.

His body wasn’t his own, he couldn't open his eyes or move at all. He would’ve felt claustrophobic if it didn’t relieve his exhaustion.

“How long?” He heard from right behind him, a grumbling voice with fury behind it.

“How long…?” Came another voice, a voice that sounded just as tired as Tim felt.

“How long has he been without one?”

A sigh.

“About a year.”

He heard the shift of fabric around him more than he felt it.

“That was when father—”

“I know.”

Tim drifted off.

⋘⋙

The second time was a bit longer than the last.

His mind floated somewhere off to the side of his body, it was closer, yet still too far to be of any use.

“—avoided infection.”

“Yes, but he could still develop it at any moment.”

“That’s a risk he’ll always have to take, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

The voice behind him tisked in disapproval. “There has to be something, stronger antibiotics, a donor, even a replacement.”

“I wish there was. You were able to get a replacement for your spine because bone and metal can be exchangeable. A living organ? Dames, it’s just something he’ll have to live with—something he has been living with. All we can do is support him as best we can.”

Tim knew he’d probably hate the topic of conversation, his anxiety was ramping up on instinct. But his brain simply floated away before he could think too hard about the words being spoken.

⋘⋙

The last time all he felt was warmth. The frost in his body was slowly melting away and was replaced by a bearable heat, he welcomed it.

“You have a lot of explaining to do when you wake up, Timothy. I am not happy with your lack of self preservation skills and I demand to know what’s running through that stupid head of yours.”

The name sent a chill down his spine despite no sign of frigid air. That name was only ever used by three people in his life: his parents when they were incredibly upset with him and the demon spawn just to piss him off.

At least his brain put together who was speaking into the weariness of the room.

He groaned, peeling his lips open to speak. “Don’t…call me that.”

He felt the weight around him all at once. The incredible weight over his body and the tightened straps running across his face. He could even feel the crisp, fresh air he was breathing in, tinged with a bit of heat.

So when the person behind him shifted, he whined in disdain.

“Drake?”

Tim hummed, content and comfortable as his cheek rested against a plush pillow. He felt the arms around him retreat. He barely even knew they were there in the first place, but as they left, they took all the warmth with them. Suddenly he felt air rush against his skin and he grumbled at the loss of warmth.

Tim turned around and blindly grasped for the source of warmth.

“Stop fumbling around, you’re going to pull out your IV.”

But unfortunately for Damian, an exhausted Tim loaded up on pain meds is a clinger. So when Tim bonked his head onto Damians chest, he settled into the warmth it brought.

Damian let out an exasperated huff, trying to detach himself from Tim without pulling on any chords. “I need to alert Pennyworth that you’re awake.”

Tim chuffed, “But I’m cold, and you’re warm.”

That made Damian hesitate. “You’re still cold?”

Tim hummed, purring when the warmth settled around him again. “A little.”

Damian settled completely and wrapped the blankets tighter around Tim’s bare shoulders. Tim’s brain floated and then snapped back into place when it connected each of the words he heard before.

For the first time in awhile, Tim’s eyes snapped open.

“You know,” He pulled his head back slightly to meet the other boy's gaze, “You know, don’t you?”

Damian tisked, “Of course I know. You almost died because of your stubborn secrecy.”

Tim pulled away from him completely despite his body protesting the loss of heat. Propping himself up was a challenge but he did so anyway.

“How much did they tell you?”

Damian eyed the long ugly scar that assaulted the side of Tim’s torso, right where his spleen should be. He pushed himself out of the medical bed and slid the blankets back in place. “Not nearly enough,” he crossed his arms as he stood. “How reckless do you have to be to lose your spleen. How careless, especially, to lose your spleen while father was…and not even tell him when he came back.”

Tim bristled, sliding the stupid oxygen mask off his face so he could talk more freely. “He didn’t ‘come back’, I brought him back, no thanks to you and Dick. I sacrificed so much to bring him back to you guys and I got nothing, not even a ‘thank you’. So excuse me for not telling you the full story.”

“So then,” Damian held fury in his eyebrows, yet he pulled up a chair and firmly sat down, refusing to lose eye contact with Tim, “Tell me the full story or I will tell Bruce all that I know.”

“Are you seriously blackmailing me right now?”

“You seemed surprised. Your idiocy could kill you someday, I’m merely trying to make sure it doesn’t.”

Tim sat up fully, his back creaking like normal—no pain, no claws, just blind numbness from the pain meds. And no, Tim wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Blackmail was normal in this family, he would run into it sooner or later with the Demon Spawn.

“It involves your Grandfather.”

Tim watched as tension eased its way into Damian’s shoulders. Everyone knew better than to bring up Ra’s without merit. It could be a sensitive topic for Damian, but they were still gauging how sensitive. Damian could talk about Ra’s in his long winded monologues or comment about his life prior to Robin with ease, bragging about his extensive training and kill count.

But they all saw how his hands could shake when talking. They knew the nightmares that plagued him deep into the night. They’ve seen his pristine willpower that got him through Fear Toxin without much more than silence. But sometimes, they couldn’t ignore the Demon Head’s name being muttered on Damian’s lips along with apologies.

And Tim was the only one who saw past Damian’s front of the Bloodson, the Heir, the destined Robin.

Damian may be the blood son but he was also the only child Bruce didn’t choose.

“My grandfather meddles in things, this is nothing new.”

It was poorly concealed disinterest. But it was enough of a confirmation for Tim that he continued.

“When Bruce…died,” Tim still struggled to say that, “I knew he wasn’t completely gone.”

Damian hummed, nodding in memory. “I remember, it drove you mad.”

Tim bit down the urge to argue, he had not gone mad. No, Dick, he doesn’t need to go to Arkham, really, he’s fine. “Right,” Tim cleared his throat, “So you remember I left soon after.”

“Yes, you were painfully good at covering your tracks.”

The corner of Tim’s lip quirked up. “Was that a compliment I heard? Aw Dami, you really do look up to me.”

Damian tisked, “Your ears have failed you, Drake. Continue with the story before I end you.”

And back to the death threats. Back into familiarity. Tim hummed but the amusement in his eyes never left. “No one would believe me when I said Bruce was still alive so I went to the only person who did.”

Tim vaguely gestured to Damian.

“You went to my grandfather.”

“I did.”

There was a lot more to it than that. But Tim didn’t really have the stomach to admit Ra’s tried to assassinate him and then somehow partnered up with the very same assassins hired to shoot a bullet through his skull. He also doesn’t go into the fact that he single-handedly destroyed the league’s bases and now has a huge target on his back with WE. But sure, Tim went to Ra’s.

Damian looked off to the side, what was going on in that head of his, Tim couldn’t figure out. “And then?”

Tim felt like he was walking on eggshells, one wrong move and he’d slip into obscurity. “We ran into the Council of Spiders.”

“Expert assassins, I’ve heard of them.”

Tim nodded, his brain filtering through tense memory after tense memory. The fight was one big blur, fighting against metahumans was always an inconvenience. He placed a hand over the scar on his torso.

“Long story short, I was impaled straight through my torso by Widower. I thought I died to be honest,” Tim remembered the fear that coursed through his veins when he thought he was resurrected with the lazarus pit. “But Ra’s and his league were able to perform an emergency surgery. I survived, but they had to remove my spleen.”

“And you haven’t told anyone this because…?”

Tim sighed, “Because partnering up with the League of Villains is as taboo as it gets in this family. That, and Dick shys away every time I want to address what happened while Bruce was gone because he feels guilty for the whole thing despite how many times I try to clear the air. None of us were in our right minds but that doesn’t stop him from blaming himself. And Bruce is too emotionally stunted to admit his death even happened to begin with, let alone hear about how I almost died to get him back.”

Tim continued, “Alfred knows because he handles everyone's medication and hiding something from him is near impossible. Babs only knows because of a miscalculation.”

“Was me finding out a ‘miscalculation'? “

Tim didn’t hesitate: “Yes. I never wanted you to find out about what happened between Ra’s and I.”

Damian was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning the monitor Tim was hooked up to, listening to each beat of Tim’s heart.

“Do you plan on telling Father?”

Tim picked at the tape holding the IV inside the top of his hand. “Someday,” he spoke softly, “I’m just not ready for that conversation yet.”

Damian nodded absent-mindedly. “I do not agree with this.”

Tim lifted his head to look at Damian. The other boy wouldn’t meet his gaze. “But if it means that much to you, your secret is safe so long as your life remains intact.”

Tim’s chest fluttered with relief. “Really?”

Damian’s bored eyes met Tims. “Do not make me regret this.”

A smile broke out on Tim’s face. “Aw, you really do care about me.”

Damian gagged.

“Come on, bring it in,” Tim raised his arms for a hug, the amusement in his eyes still very prevalent.

“Absolutely not, I spent the past 36 hours hugging you, you do not need more.”

Tim pouted, “You dare deny your dying brother one last hug?”

“You are not dying, heathen.”

“Just come here,” Tim pulled Damian into the bed without much effort. Despite Damian’s protests, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t need the reassurance that his brother would be okay. The color had returned to his face and his skin was no longer cold to the touch. But nothing was more solid than a secure embrace.

Alfred would stop by a few moments later to the boys completely knocked out, a tough night for everyone. He smiled, pulling the blankets firmly over their shoulders, because even the butler needed some reassurance every now and again.

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

#Tim drake #red robin #Damian wayne #robin #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #Jason todd #red hood #nightwing #batman #dc comics #dc #batfam #batfamily #hurt/comfort #whump #angst

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hybbart · 1 year

Note

Oh damn, 7 days?! What sorta things happened in the meantime? Other than severe blood loss

Let me tell you. A lot of hiding and waiting and running scraping together what little they could.

I'll zoom out and give a little bit of perspective on the whole situation from more than the rancher's pov. It's a bit long , so sorry.

Basically the city was a nearly 3 hour drive through the mountains, 2-3 days if you walk there. It's a long drive but there's supplies there, especially for tech guys like Impulse and Tango, or Jimmy, Cleo, and Scott who have medical needs.

While Gem's place is self-sustaining for food and doesn't have to worry about zombies for the most part, it's in an inconvenient location for anything else, especially starting from scratch without any sort extensive survival or homesteading knowledge.

On top of that, they have one vehicle, and it's difficult to find a usable vehicle in an accessible location. Gas is also getting harder to come by. So the plan was to take the van (and a small trailer), pile everyone in with minimal supplies, drive out, and stock up as much as possible over the course of one night. Finding another vehicle was one of their goals, but...

Not that raiders and zombies weren't a known possibility, but both were in much bigger numbers than they expected, and they got caught out. What little supplies they had were either destroyed or taken, and much of the accessible city was scavenged by the raiders themselves.

GGG were the only one to actually get out of there after the first night. Luckily the van wasn't found but getting to it and escaping in it when on enemy terrain is a task, and like the ranchers and Impulse they had no supplies. They made it back to Gem's but had their own wounds to lick before they could plan on going back.

Jimmy's time was a struggle, a lot of sitting still and hiding. He couldn't risk fighting by himself, and he couldn't fly. So it was a lot of waiting.

Impulse was in good condition but Tango was beaten bad and infected. With Tango in his state, escaping on foot was just Not An Option, even if they could get past the raiders and zombies, so they hid. Tango was out cold entirely by the 283th day.

Jimmy eventually found them and with both him and Impulse they were able to do a lot better, but they also still couldn't escape and had no way to contact the Gs or know what happened to them or the van.

And the rest played out as is shown. Jimmy used what little first aid kit supplies and knowledge he had to keep Tango alive while Impulse tried to contact the Gs and find supplies, they got pinned down by zombies and started preparing more drastic attempts to escape, and then finally made contact with the Gs.

#raau ask #raau notes #raau notes: character #raau notes: setting

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ashs-random-writing · 11 months

Text

a burning feeling

Chapter two

Ao3

When Patton, a young-ish human, feels drawn to the mountains that house dragons, he doesn't know why he follows the feeling.

He definitely doesn't know why the dragons seem so... protective

Logan watched the little sprite as it curled up around the spikes protruding from his head. It seemed to be sound asleep. The action had rendered him immobile for how ever long it decided to sleep for (which could be anywhere between an hour or twelve hours)

He smiled, pushing away the thoughts. It was good that the sprite was seeking warmth, regardless of the inconvenience it caused him. Regardless, Virgil was sure to laugh at him.

Logan closed his eyes, deciding that perhaps he should nap with the sprite. Besides, Virgil was guarding exits, so it’s not like it could escape whilst he was sleeping. When he awoke, it was still near him, though it was trying to climb behind something, now.

Logan sighed, going to get it. It had done this kind of thing a multitude of times in the past two weeks or so it had been living here, Virgil hypothesised that it was some kind of game it was trying to play

Logan walked closer, quietly, noting the noises it was making sounded like happy noises, though distinctly muffled. He found his way behind the large pile of things and gently nudged it out

It made more of those happy noises, louder this time and started running towards Virgil’s side of the cave. Logan supressed a smile, and went to chase it.

It ended up in Virgil’s grasp before he caught it

Virgil looked at him with a strange expression, like he was trying to stop himself from laughing and make himself look serious

Logan’s scales shifted, and he hesitantly looked up

Virgil sighed, the little one’s clothing still dangling in his mouth. It was wriggling, like it was trying to get to the ground

“Since when am I the responsible one? It’s supposed to be watched at all times”

Logan huffed a little smoke, and gave his friend a small glare

“It was playing the hiding game it likes, and then ran away. I was trying to catch it” He shook his head

Virgil carried the little sprite back to its nest, placing it down, and nudging it back to the middle every time it tried to climb back out

“Sorry, little one. You’re too energetic for today, and it’s too risky to let you out for now” he said, though the little sprite couldn’t understand enough to know to stop climbing.

Virgil left to guard the entrance again

Logan curled around the nest and watched the little thing climb. If it kept climbing, and Logan kept putting it back, it was sure to tire itself out eventually

Logan thought about perhaps finding other games for it to play. Ones that didn’t involve running or hiding, possibly.

Soon would be a new moon, a night where all magic bloomed. Logan wasn’t sure what would happen to the little one (what had been happening to the little one) if its spark didn’t ignite.

Hopefully it would ignite within a few months. He didn’t want it to be ill, or sad, or hurt.

It stopped climbing after a while, leaning against the side of the nest. Logan gently nudged it, just enough to test its warmth. It was a lot warmer than it was when it first showed up, but not warm enough to ignite

He waited until it fell asleep and went to go find Virgil. Virgil was good at watching the little sprite, and Logan wasn’t as good. Logan and Virgil decided that Virgil would watch the sprite for a while and Logan would hunt and guard entrances

Logan emerged from the cave, looking down towards the human town. The humans were rarely ever out of their homes when he was, and tonight was no exception. He looked out at the little structures they made for themselves and let his thoughts wander.

He didn’t take too long to get food, and was back to the cave before the sprite even woke up.

He was careful not to wake it up before it awoke naturally; sleep was an incredibly important step in the healing process it was going through. It needed to gain all the energy it hadn’t been able to produce whilst it was living with humans

It was progressing slowly, but that was better than no progress at all. Logan knew what would have happened had it not sought them out, and he knew that it was still a risk.

He had to be aware of its progress and if it got worse at any point. He curled up next to the nest and his friend.

Virgil was watching every thing, every possible entrance, and Logan let him. It wasn’t often that being overly cautious was bad, especially not with a child to be watching out for. He absently watched the flickering shadows on the wall across from the fire pit. What colour would the little sprite’s flames be?

By the time the new moon came around, Logan was ready to forfeit any celebration in case the little one needed him. Which, as he found out, it did.

It became unwell, that evening, prompting Logan and Virgil to take care of it. It was cold again, and it was crying, an upsetting sound that Logan would rather never hear again. He gently nudged it, lifting it out of the nest, and closer to his own body warmth. Virgil lied next to him, also providing warmth for the sprite

It was still crying, though quieter, and less. Logan didn’t enjoy knowing that it had gone through this before, alone. Virgil was clicking out soothing noises. It mimicked the noises quietly, and leant against Logan’s chest

Logan draped his wing over it and looked at his friend

“I think it will fall asleep soon, what should we do?”

Virgil looked at him

“We let it rest, and we carry on helping”

Patton still didn’t understand most of the draconic language.

He still didn’t understand why he was there. They were nice to him, and he wasn’t really being held captive in most ways. Mostly, he found that they seemed almost concerned about him. He couldn’t figure out why.

He still played games with them, and they still kept him warm, and Patton was feeling better than he even knew people could feel. He felt stronger, less sickly. The dragons kept him in ways that made him stronger

He didn’t understand how. All the reports of dragons kidnapping other humans didn’t mention them getting stronger the more they stayed with dragons

Now, he was ill. He became ill every month, usually on the new moon. All the healers he had seen had hypothesised that it was some kind of curse. This was the weakest version of the curse, now that he was with the dragons. He was crying from the pain, still and he was shivering and he was freezing, but he had been a lot worse the month before.

The dragons kept him close, and they shared their warmth with a few clicks that he was sure was meant to be reassuring. He mimicked them quietly, his sobs fading out. He leant against one of the dragons, though he didn’t know which one. A wing covered him, protecting him, and he started to sleep while the dragons conversed above him.

When he woke up, the purple dragon was curled around him, the blue one doing something near the nest. Patton still felt ill, though not as much. He stood up, ignoring the pain settled in his chest. The purple dragon shifted slowly, turning their head to look at him. Patton smiled, looking at the eye that was half the size of him

He greeted them, and they greeted him back, gently picking him up. He wriggled, still not used to the feeling of being carried like that. He was set down closer to the nest, and both dragons started talking to each other. Patton sat down, deciding that he wasn’t in the right state to try play a game. He didn’t know how long he just sat there, but after a while he was lifted back into the nest, and he looked up

The nest was warmer now, and Patton laid down.

It was a few days later when anything really changed. He had woken up like normal, the dragons greeted him as normal, he played a game with them. And then, there was a noise from the front of the cave, by the entrance. Patton tilted his head, trying to think what it could be.

The dragons looked at each other, and said something quickly, before Patton was lifted into the nest. Patton tried to think what could possibly be happening, as the purple dragon rushed to the front of the cave

Patton looked up at the blue dragon, who seemed almost nervous. Patton hummed in thought. There were more noises coming from the mouth of the cave, including roaring. Okay, Patton was getting concerned now.

What could possibly have been happening out there? He attempted to climb out of the nest, but Blue pushed him back, more frantic than usual. And now he was really concerned. He tried again, before sitting on the floor of the nest and giving up.

He was tired.

—

Tag list: @a-chilly-pepper

#sanders sides gt #sanders sides fic #sanders sides story #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides au #sanders side fic #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders sides #dragon virgil #dragon Logan

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lokifromvalhalla · 2 years

Text

Time and humility

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Ivar The Boneless x Reader Genre: Comfort / Fluff Words: ± 1 600

A curse leaded to Ivar being turned into a half-cat person, which he doesn't really knows how to deal with nor does his partner, but they figure it out despite how stubborn Ivar can be.

Suggested by @bragisrunes"I would love to see your take on cat ivar! smut or fluff!!!"

Took some of Bragi's story as inspo, absolutely lovely, go check his story about cat Ivar!

Not proofread! Sorry for any mistakes!

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

The unfortunate cross of ways between Ivar and that witch resulted in this curse we have no idea how to solve, but we were taught to wait, at least. You need two thinks thing; the first all things devours: birds, beasts, trees, flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel; grinds hard stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, and beats high mountain down; the second if you think you have it, you probably don't; if you have it, you probably won't know it—she had said with a spine-chilling chuckle before shooting a glare at Ivar and walking away. It wasn’t until we went back to the Great Hall that we noticed that Ivar wasn’t quite the same as when he had left his house, this time counting on the company of a tail and cat ears.

At first, it was just Ubbe and I staring at Ivar while trying to process what was happening and figure out what to do with it while Ivar sat there confused, only to be alarmed by Sigurd once he walked into the room and snorted at the moment his eyes fell on Ivar, and that’s when chaos ensued, intensified by Hvitserk also getting himself into the situation.

That was a couple of days ago. Now, we’re just making sure to keep Ivar inside the Hall and as hidden from the people as possible—under Aslaug’s orders—whilst we try to figure out a way to get him back to normal, though there’s no trace of the witch anywhere. It’s almost as if she vanished. Either way, we’re stuck with dealing with a grumpy Ivar until all of this is over. Well, either grumpy or extremely playful since he gets bored very easily; sometimes he will just show up in the corner of the room under bed covers, observing us as some sort of ghost, and start giggling as soon as someone jumps startled after noticing his presence. I would hate it if it weren’t so adorable—and maybe I spoil him more than I should, whatever Ubbe says.

Now is another one of these times; I could hear the characteristic sound of Ivar dragging himself down the hall under the sound of indistinct chatter and people walking, and soon the figure settles down by the corner of the room.

For a moment, I cogitate pretending to get scared, but I save myself time and also the inconvenience. “I’m nowhere near done yet.” The coins make a muffled sound that cuts through the room when I push them down the wooden table to a small pile.

Ivar whines, huffing as he pulls the cover over his head for a moment. “You don’t need to do those, anyways.”

“It’s not like that.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not here for free, even if I’m a great friend of the family.”

“Even mother told you to get that idea off your head already!” He clicks his tongue, his ears shifting under the cover. “Can’t you do that tomorrow or anything? I’m sure no one will mind!”

“Ivar, the things won’t buy themselves!” I scoff, taking the coins in hand to shove them inside the small bag. “And you won’t survive a night without that tea that soothes the pain, you know that!” I shoot a glare at him before I can start sorting out the other objects I got for trading to make sure Hvitserk didn’t forget to get me anything this time.

“Can’t you send Ubbe to do that?”

“You know he’s busy with the newcomers.”

“Hvitserk?”

“Training.”

“Uuh, fuck... Sigurd?” His voice is quiet and small. It almost makes my heart ache a little since the fact he’s suggesting Sigurd, resorting to the last means...

I sigh. “Hedeby with your mother.”

“No!” He groans, voice growing louder. “That means you’ll need to go out! And I’ll be here alone forever! Is this what you want, (y/n)? You want to put me under all this suffering?”

Gods, poor baby—okay, I’m being partly sarcastic, part of me still wants to cuddle him all day long. I make sure everything is in order before I get up and move to crouch down next to him, wrapping my arms around Ivar. “You know I’ll give you all the love when I come back, stop being dramatic. You’re even the reason I’m leaving, you dumbass, you’re aware only your brothers and I know the stuff to get at the market.”

Ivar hums in defeat, resting his head against my shoulder. “You’ll be spending the night with me,” he whispers.

“Of course.” I smile softly, and let my hand slip under the covers to scratch a spot behind his ears, earning myself the quiet rumbling sound of his purring that’s soon interrupted as he quietly curses, tapping my forearm a couple of times at the same moment he hears footsteps down the hall, though no one ever walks in. I chuckle, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Be good while I’m away.”

His eyes meet mine for a short moment before they’re falling to the ground and he slowly nods as the light red tone takes over his cheeks.

Even if most of what Ivar does when following me around the city when I have to do my duties is to distract me for most of the time—not like I’m completely against it, especially given the times when he’ll look at me with that crafty smirk, minutes before pulling me to a quiet corner so we can kiss until his lips are all swollen and mine tingle—, I do miss his presence a lot. It’s not as fun to walk around without anyone to talk to or someone poking my calf every two seconds so I will check something out. Of course I’m able to do everything faster, but I weirdly feel more tired than usual when I’m done. Damn witch.

The hall’s empty as it usually is at the end of the afternoon, in a great contrast to its state late at night when everyone is here for supper. A sigh escapes my lips as I let the things I brought back on top of the table and motion for a thrall to put everything away. My breath is still a little out of pace when I carefully walk into Ivar’s bedroom, making sure I’m not too noisy in case he’s asleep again—it’s nowhere easy to identify whether the figure hidden under the blanket with its swinging tail out is awake or not.

A long sigh finally escapes my nose as I take a seat on the bed, about to move to start untying my shoes when fingers digging into my sides have me jumping and screaming as my heartbeat bangs in my ears, but I’m soon grounded with the sound of giggling.

“Fuck!” I click my tongue, shaking my head, but Ivar just laughs louder, and as much as I want to join him and laugh along, I limit myself to only pressing my lips together in a gentle smile so he won’t grow so smug. “Very funny, love, very funny!”

“You should’ve seen your face!”

I roll my eyes, slapping his arm lightly. “Fuck off, hm?” I finally bend down to untie my laces and get my shoes off, and it doesn’t take long before my vest is growing loose, and I glance back at Ivar, who tugs the strings of my vest undone then scoots away to give me some room on the bed. My vest meets the ground with a heavy thud, and I finally allow myself to feel some peace as I cuddle close to Ivar, also slipping under the furs. “So? How were things while I was away?”

Ivar sighs as he rests his head against my shoulder, raising his eyebrows a little. “Boring, of course.”

“Yeah, same for me,” I hum, but soon brush away the thoughts that almost gave me headaches earlier today. One of Ivar’s strands falls on his eyes, so I try to brush it away only for him to move away from the touch and he has my knuckle between his teeth before I can notice. Fuck. The complaint I was about to groan, however, dies at my lips at the moment I notice how he’s more of chewing down on my knuckle lightly instead of biting, much like the kittens that I had found at the forest would do. Sometimes I wonder if Asa and Hali still take care of them, something I would ask Bjorn about if he showed up as often as he promises to.

A sigh escapes my lips as I raise an eyebrow at Ivar and he seems to be brought to reality by it, his eyes meeting mine while he pauses for a moment only to sink his teeth into my finger actually hard this time.

“Ivar!” I hiss, pulling my hand away with a glare that doesn’t do anything much aside from snatching another chuckle from him; I shake my hand a little until the pain is reduced to a soft throbbing and sigh, sitting up on the bed. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room if you continue like that!”

“No!” Ivar cries out with a groan, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I pull him close and tight so he won’t mess around again so easily. He’s still grumbling quietly when snuggling closer, pressing his face to my neck as his hand rests on my chest, drawing patterns against it absentmindedly.

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #x fem reader #vikings #vikings x reader #fan fic #fan fiction

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cheesy-cryptid · 2 years

Note

During the middle act of Encanto, where the family slowly began to lose their gifts (like Luisa slowly becoming less stronger for example). How would Javi, Angie and Ignacio react when their gifts slowly faded away as the family conflict grew?

Javi:

✨ For Javi, it would start off when he was beginning to receive splitting headaches and migraines. Usually he is calm and collected, even though his bottled up emotions would feel like a storm inside of him sometimes but these were painful headaches that not even Tia Julieta’s food could heal. He began to be a little more crabby and moody than usual because of this— and even would flat out snap at people whenever he gets like one minor inconvenience. Maybe when he gets too overwhelmed with the headaches and his heightened emotions, he’ll retreat to his room to bury himself under a pile of pillows and blankets to recover in his cold cavern. As much as he’d like to get to the bottom of whats going on, he’ll need a moment to take a breather.

✨ Relying on his telekineses gift made him a little clumsier in a way. One minute he would be reading his books and then the moment he leaves his mug in mid air, he gets startled when he hears a crash and all his coffee is spilled on the floor. Like how astronauts would sometimes forget about gravity when they come home to earth.

✨ Or maybe the exact opposite happens when his gift begins to hiccup. Like what if it begins to overwhelm him as he grows more and more anxious throughout the day. I imagine his gift would end up affecting the objects and furniture around him without meaning to and they end up shaking or creaking whenever he went. During the dinner scene, in the midst of the chaos happening, imagine him accidentally making all the plates, dishes, and tableware levitate because of all the built up stress and tension in the room.

Angelina:

🕊 Oh Angelina would notice immediately when somethings wrong. She’ll notice quickly how her flight speed is a little slower than usual and how she’s losing her balance every time she’d try to fly higher. Because of this, she’ll be too stubborn to admit something is wrong, until she can fully convince herself that this is just a small hiccup. Nothing that Tia Julieta’s healing arepas cant fix.

🕊 But she eventually did admit to herself something was definitely wrong. Throughout the day she would just resort to finishing her chores without using her flight powers. If anyone would jokingly comment about her lacking flying/floating habits, she would just use an excuse that she got “grounded” by her mother after ruining another skirt from flying through the forests again.

🕊 But Angelina would be too proud to tell anyone about her predicament. Telling her mother about it would be the last thing in her mind. She knew it would mean that her mother’s prayers were answered if she found out it would keep her from attempting to fly over the mountains. But nevertheless, Angelina would react more calmer than her brothers—thinking this slight hiccup would fix itself in a day or two.

Ignacio:

🔥 Oh boy. Ignacio would not handle his fire breath messing him up well. He will notice it early though. He’ll help out his Tia Julieta prepare breakfast for the day—his task of lighting up all the ovens got him all out of breath with what seemed to usually be a piece of cake for him before. When he’s eating, he likes to play with his food by toasting it a little—but after gently blowing on a piece of bread he picked up for himself, no flame came out of his mouth at all unless he exhaled hard enough.

🔥 Ignacio would spend the rest of the day coughing and drinking water to clear his throat. Even his performances would lack that spectacular fire show that he would usually show off in the middle of town. Smoke would still escape his lips but he’ll be sneezing or coughing more than usual for something he cant get out of his chest.

🔥 During the dinner scene, Ignacio would try his best not to concern his family and the de Guzmans with all the coughing hes been trying to restrain. But with what seems to be some kind of build up in his chest he cant get rid of—more smoke began to escape him and spread throughout the room as he tried to hold down his coughs. Everyone initially thought he was pulling a prank but poor Ignacio kept shaking his head and signaling to not mind him. Even his tio Agustin became more worried and tried to pat his back to help him out since Ignacio was beginning to look more pained. Eventually when the vision tablet was revealed at the table and all the walls began to crack—Ignacio wasnt able to keep it in before he could excuse himself from the table and startled everyone when strong burst of flames suddenly erupted from his mouth in a coughing fit. There were shrieks when a portion of the table cloth caught on fire and Evalina tried to pat down the flames. It wasnt until the flames were extinguished when the storm cloud above them finally rained.

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whitherwanderer · 2 years

Text

4 // recycle (extra credit)

This was not part of the plan, Sif reminded herself as she sat behind the rusted out remains of a car twice her age.

The hardest part of the job was supposed to be finding the damn corpos’ drop point. Not hiding from what might be one of their infamously bloody asset liquidations. Gonk fixer would find a hefty inconvenience charge at the bottom of his invoice for the time she’d spend waiting for this to resolve.

The telltale whine of the drone drifting overhead drowned out any and all sound around her in the small valley between the literal mountains of garbage surrounding her, the wind kicked up by the engines blowing hot and sending various pieces of junk soaring past her hiding spot and making the smell all that much more pleasant just when she thought she’d managed to get used to it.

“God damn it…” she mouthed and her hand rose to her head, noting the tremors. She put those out of her mind for now as she turned to peek out of cover at the vessel, expecting some heavily armored monster to be waiting just beyond.

Instead, she found a banged-up, unmarked garbage vehicle, its blue and yellow paint flaking and faded, rusting over where a few well-placed bullets left pockmark dents in the hull. She recognized the model. Long out of commission, and yet, someone was still using it to fly their shit out to the edge of the city. Maybe she’d found her drop point after all.

She watched from cover as the hopper opened, letting a shower of junk spill out into the clearing below. Nothing particularly special at a glance, of course. Boxes and bags stuffed to bursting. Shredded tires and scrap. She sighed to herself as she realized that this was going to be a long night of picking through crap to find her cargo. Fortunately, it only took a few seconds longer for the sensors to recognize the hold was empty before the drone closed up and took off back towards the city. And once it was far enough, Sif slipped out of hiding.

She looked over the new obstacle with her hands on her hips and shook her head, ready to dig through the boot of her car and dig out her work gloves—

Her optics glitched. Or did they? She searched for the shape that had caught her attention and took a step back when she found exactly what she hoped she wouldn’t. Not a glitch, a man. Half-buried and probably dead if he was here of all places. Recently dead too, judging by his color. A hum rolled from her throat. She knew some folks who might throw her a decent sum for secondhand chrome, much as she didn’t like dealing with them…

“Who’ve we got here?” she asked herself, glancing over readouts that flickered into her vision. No name, no affiliation, no insurance coverage. She clicked her tongue. Victim of identity theft, maybe. Her readouts flickered red at her as an exclamation popped up across her optics in urgent lettering.

“Fuck, you’re alive?”

She spent the next ten minutes struggling to pull the man out of the heap, dragging him across the valley towards her own little pile of scrap, a Thorton that she’d poured more money into than the damn thing was worth for parts. The next order of business was propping him up and taking a moment to catch her breath as she knelt down next to him to get a better look at him.

He was a sorry-looking idiot that she likely wouldn’t give a second glance on the street. Dressed in plain, dingy clothes and denim, no notable features save for the circuitry that ran from his forehead to a spot above his ear, another implant on his opposite temple. She nudged his head sideways to try and look for his port, maybe she could find out a thing or two more about his condition—

As she reached for her cable, she realized the port on the side of his neck was completely incompatible with her tech. No cable she’d ever seen before would fit that. Foreigner, maybe? She mused this to herself with a huff, but there were other ways around the problem. She reached for his wrist to find his own cable, pausing once again at what she’d found, then humming her sympathy. Just beneath his skin, from his wrist to elbow, the veins in his arms ran blue-black as the night sky. A junkie with expensive taste.

“Suddenly, I ain’t so surprised t’ find y’ here,” she sighed at him, pulling his wrist to lay across his lap and standing up to lean into her passenger side window.

Was she opposed to having a man like that indebted to her for pulling him back from the grave? At worst, he’d ghost her. At best, she’d have a favor to call in, and in the clan she was raised, that was worth every eddy she’d lose for not finishing this job. She pulled her first aid kit and a laptop case from under the dash, then set both out, open and ready for use as needed. The laptop booted with a tap or two and, prayers abound, in went his cable. With any luck, he wasn’t bugged to hell before he was dropped in the trash.

Surprisingly, luck was in her favor. His diagnostics were squeaky clean. Suspiciously so, save for one program that was left running on him. She gave him a curious glance again as she tabbed over to vital signs and once more he gave her reason to pause. She hissed as she hurriedly punched in a command to kill the program. At least it gave up without a fight.

“Th’ hell are y’ supressin’ your own vitals for, y’ gonkbrain—” she stopped her ranting as the computer sounded an alarm at her, helpfully encouraging her to try and contact his Trauma Team policy agents as his heart rate soared to dangerous, even inhuman speeds.

She swore aloud as he seized up and fell over sideways, cable ripping from her laptop as she scrambled to get him on his side. She dragged her first aid kit to her side and pried an injection gun from its foam mold, picking up vials and dropping them until she found the one she needed. She plugged it into the injector and fought his arm with both her own, placing the injector against his skin right above a vein. Her breath held, the click of the trigger brought a few seconds of silence while she waited for the drug to take.

When he finally gasped for a breath and shuddered, the tension in his body falling back into limp stupor, she pushed him onto his back and reached for his neck to feel for a pulse. It was slower now, and the drugs she gave him were certainly aiding that, but he was seemingly stable. She let a nervous laugh leave her and sat back on the dusty ground, looking up at the few stars visible in the night sky.

“...You're gonna be m' problem now, aren’t y’?” she asked him with a weary groan.

—

OOC Notes: It’s yes. The answer is yes.

Cyberpunk AU!! Based on the world of Cyberpunk 2077, but older AUs will certainly make appearances later this month.

#ffxivwrite2022 #[ cyberpunk ]

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onlywayleftisup · 3 years

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i should not complain but i cannot help how i feel.

#its sad hour time again #T_T #i think a lot of things are getting to me #small inconveniences piling up to a mountain #i just.................... uh...................................... want to stop drawing..............................................#i just feel bad abt my stuff...........#i want to quit........#i want to leave............#i want to just. leave.#i just feel so bad about my stuff #i know i tell myself that i dont care about followers or people who look at my stuff #because everything i draw is self indulgent #i dont keep up with trendy fandoms or advertise myself #but i do feel sad abt how no one seems to see my stuff or cares #every time i open art trade post #or a request post #barely anyone sees it #i dont know if its because people feel like they shouldnt even bother getting a trade with me #or they just dont like my art style #i know i always tell myself that i dont care what people think about what i draw #like well really !!!#i dont mind if my shitposts gets seen by barely anyone #thats fine because i draw for myself #but when i make posts when i obviously want to draw for other people #and no one comments #i just feel like #wow is my art that horrid.#i dont think ive ever had more than 3 comments on any of my art request/trade comments #on my main profile #and i feel super sad about it tbh

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emerulynn · 2 years

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Ok ok hear me out, so I think we can all agree that Rook and Ben share this room at Plumber’s Academy right. If you look at the drawers you can see Ben’s clothes all nicely folded (it’s even folded to have the number 10 on top and in the middle). Sorry but Ben folding clothes that nicely doesn’t sit right with me, i bet this bitch just yeets his clothes in the drawer and claws through the pile to get shit out, that, or he just dumps them on the floor (well I think he refrains from doing so when he’s sharing this room with Rook, unless he’s like rlly tired one day and doesn’t have the energy to give a fuck).

So of course, Rook, someone who’s shared a cluttered home with his what, 5 siblings, who’s gotten used to picking up everybody else’s slack and laundry will notice how messy Ben’s corner of the room is and naturally starts folding his clothes, re-organizing his socks, color coding all of them and everything. In fact, Rook organizes so much of Ben’s stuff that whenever Ben needs something, he would just ask Rook where it is (Ben also went on about how it would be sooo easier for him to fetch his knick-knacks if they were left in piles instead of being systematically arranged in cabinets but never strived to prove his point).

They even have a selfie and posters of their own automobiles stuck onto the drawers. They’re just so sickeningly domestic yall i cant fucking 😭😭

Ok time for some not-so-platonic headcanons:

They have bunk beds in their room but never actually use both of them at the same time. When they get back from their missions, they simply flop both of their bodies onto one another and sleep. Rook’s disproportionately large body and the single-sized bed made it hard at first but they sort of got a hang of it after some time. When they sleep, they look like a tangled bundle of yarn with their limbs locked and linked but they never looked uncomfortable.

The top bunk is still used though, when they’re not that drained and when Ben likes to sleep on the top bunk because tbh who doesn’t. Stuffing their bodies into the top bunk is extra challenging because the ground’s gonna be extra hard if one of them tumbles down, but this is Ben and Rook we’re talking about, they managed, somehow.

Ben once asked Rook why he kept sorting his clothes like it’s second nature and teased at how motherly it was, saying that if Rook just nagged him a bit more, he would have actually done it himself. Rook just smiled and said that he would have “zero problem doing so for the rest of my life”, as it has become more of a past time rather than a chore - ridding Ben of minor inconveniences, small tasks that added up to the boy’s mountain of duties. After hearing that, Ben realized how he might be spoiled rotten by Rook and decided to semi-regularly fold his clothes (half-assedly nevertheless).

#domestic fluff #i just love them ok #i spend my time writing this instead of doing my homework #this can be platonic if you want it to #ben tennyson #rook blonko #omniboyfriends #brooken #benrook #ben 10 #eme rant

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cadavercowboy · 2 years

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Take Me Out — Part Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader — Assassin AU

Summary: You and Bucky are both professionally trained assassins. Both contracted to kill the other. Both completely unaware.

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: Referenced/implied violence. Mention of needles.

Part One

Mountains of dresses, blouses, and skirts blanket every surface in your cluttered bedroom. You can’t even remember buying half of this shit and you’re frankly overwhelmed by the array of options splayed out before you. Who knew the hardest part of this hit would be the wardrobe? Bucky had mentioned dressing fancy, though you’re unsure if it had actually just been a joke. And what’s his idea of fancy, anyway? Did he mean evening gown fancy? Or cocktail dress fancy? Maybe just a nice skirt and a pretty shirt...

With a frustrated huff, you drag a hand across your wrinkled brow. Redirecting your attention to a task you know you’ll have absolutely no issue with, you stalk to the back of your walk-in closet and slide a section of dangling garments aside to reveal your extensive arsenal. The hidden wall of weaponry boasts an array of firearms, blades, and various other tactical items. It’s always been your favorite part of any contract: deciding which of your toys get to come out and play. Given the circumstances, you know you’ll need to arm yourself thoroughly. However, you expect to be in pretty close quarters with Bucky and that means you need to be subtle as well.

As far as guns go, the only sensible option is your Beretta Pico. Small and compact, she’s the ideal size to conceal in a thigh holster. Paired with the right dress, Bucky will never even know you’re armed. Just as long as he keeps his hands to himself. You chuckle to yourself at the thought. You certainly wouldn’t mind getting a piece of Mr. Bucky Barnes, especially considering how much more good-looking he’s gotten since you’d last seen him. Sex has come in handy before as a very useful distraction, but tonight it will only serve as an inconvenience to get naked when you’re hiding weapons beneath your clothing.

This line of thinking makes the next decision for you: you need more options to be ready for any possible turn of events. It’s your responsibility to be fully prepared, to expect the unexpected. You don’t just need a plan B. Up against the likes of another trained killer, you need plans A through Z. Just in case.

Reaching for a small black box on the shelf, you know this is the quintessential backup. The steel hinges squeak lowly when you open the container, revealing a black foam interior with several glass vials cradled tightly within. It’s not your most favored method, but lethal injection is the best solution if you wind up in dangerously close proximity to Bucky. Plucking one of the clear bottles out of place, you give it a little jostle. You pull out a syringe as well, flicking the safety cap off the needle before plunging it through the rubber stopper to fill the tube a third of the way.

A brief moment of doubt flashes across your mind as you contemplate Bucky’s considerable height and weight before ultimately filling the syringe all the way up. You slide the needle out and return the plastic cap to the sharp, steel tip. You’ll have to hide the syringe and while a clutch or a purse would be the easiest option, you’re much more comfortable keeping it on your person where it’s more accessible. This only means one thing: you need a dress with pockets.

Glad that your decision for weaponry has made your outfit choice that much simpler, you head back to the bedroom to dig through the piles of fabric. Halfway through the second mound of dresses, you find a real winner. A deep purple number with thick straps, a tastefully cut neckline, and a flowing skirt. It’ll show just enough leg and cleavage to be titillating while still leaving something to the imagination. But most importantly? The deep pockets, discreetly hidden among the soft folds of dark violet.

As the metaphorical icing on your wardrobe cake, you pick out a set of dainty, lacy lingerie. It’s amazing the power a flawless set of underwear can hold and you plan to harness the added bit of confidence for your kill tonight. Impeccably dressed and with a light layer of makeup, you add the finishing touches.

You make sure your gun is loaded before securing it within the holster strapped to your leg. On second thought, you shift it to the inside of your leg. It is uncomfortable there and may encumber your ability to draw fast enough, but it’s safer there where Bucky won’t accidentally discover it. The tiny Beretta is nothing more than a pea-shooter, truthfully, but you possess more than enough skill to turn damn near any object into a deadly weapon. Selecting another strappy holster, you add a throwing knife to your armaments. The more you add, the more you seriously hope you don’t end up in Bucky’s bed because your cover will be blown instantly.

Typically, you don’t wear jewelry, but tonight is a special occasion. Or rather, the piece you select with the black, cylindrical pendant serves a special purpose. The intricate gold cap that attaches the pendant to the delicate chain screws off, revealing a tiny chamber within. You’re careful not to spill the contents as you look inside, but the barely visible surface of the white powder confirms that it’s all still there. The pale crystals of strychnine are a basic tool in any decent assassin’s repertoire; a simple but deadly and effective method. It’ll be less fun to poison Bucky, but it’ll serve its purpose just as well as a last resort.

All decked out in a beautiful dress with all the accoutrements of a special agent, you’re ready to head out. You mentally catalogue the four weapons you possess — five if you count your advanced hand-to-hand combat abilities...and you do — and wonder if it’s overkill. Probably, but you dare not take any chances with someone you consider your equal.

As you pass the sleek, black luxury vehicle parked on the cobblestone drive, you regret not bringing along the necessary materials to build a bomb. If all else fails or, God forbid, you don't make it out, a bomb would be the perfect way to ensure you fulfill your contract. Alas, your window of opportunity wouldn’t allow such an elaborate endeavor; plus, you’re sure Bucky is already aware of your arrival thanks to the security camera he’s no doubt watching from inside.

Heels clicking loudly up the stone steps that embellish the grand mansion, you steady yourself with a deep breath before reaching out to use the wrought iron door knocker. It takes only a moment for Bucky to arrive, gracefully easing the door open, leaving you both awash in the warm light shining from within his home.

“Right on time. Welcome,” Bucky says with a cordial smile.

You take in his appearance as you move to step past him through the doorway. He looks amazing in a fitted suit that perfectly accentuates his substantial build. A patterned tie sits snugly against the column of his throat, his collared shirt and black jacket hugging his body in all the right places. His thick thighs sit snugly in the tightness of his slacks and a pair of ridiculously shiny wingtip shoes complete the ensemble.

Glancing up at Bucky’s smiling visage, you note that he’s tidied up his facial hair. He’s swept his messy hair into a smooth, slicked coif — even going through the trouble of using some sort of pomade by the looks of it. You can’t help noticing how differently Bucky looks than he had just a few days ago; daresay gorgeous, even. Based on all his efforts, when Bucky said fancy, he meant fancy.

“Dinner isn’t quite ready yet,” he admits, shutting the door behind him. “It’ll only be 15 minutes. Can I get you something to drink? Whiskey, wine, beer?”

“Wine would be lovely, thank you.”

Bucky turns with a nod and a small smile of acknowledgement, beckoning you to follow him into a dimly lit sitting room. You follow along, stopping in the middle of the space where your heels sink into an expensive-looking rug while Bucky continues to the bar in the corner.

“Red okay?” he wonders, sliding a glass from the rack above his head.

“Perfect,” you accept politely.

“You look real nice by the way,” Bucky tosses over his shoulder, gracefully pouring your drink.

Feeling much like Bucky when he gets shy, you awkwardly accept the compliment before also accepting the proffered glass of burgundy liquid. You take a diminutive sip, humming to yourself when the smooth, spicy bouquet coats your tongue. Seemingly pleased with your satisfied response, Bucky slips past you towards the massive fireplace that serves as a focal point in the room.

“Haven’t had a fire in here in ages. I thought tonight would be perfect for it,” Bucky calls, crouching in front of the hearth with his head buried amongst the logs.

“Oh yeah, it’ll really set the mood,” you jest. “Ambiance is a great touch.”

Bucky chuckles in response, peeking over his shoulder to smile warmly at you. The glance causes a heat to blossom in your cheeks, one which you immediately blame on the alcohol beginning to swim in your veins. Bucky produces a box of matches seemingly out of thin air and holds the flame against the woodpile until it ignites. He blows the smaller flame out and tosses the spent stick into the fireplace before standing to his full height, admiring his handiwork for a moment. Like a moth to a flame, you’re drawn to the emanating warmth and find your feet carrying you closer to stand beside Bucky.

You can’t see it from your vantage point, but Bucky turns his attention on you; observing the way the fire illuminates your pretty face, casting shadows that dance along your delicate features. He can’t believe what a coincidence it had been finally running into you; after all those weeks of seeing you in passing around town, and then there you were. A perfect, fortunate coincidence. It certainly saved him the trouble of tracking you down and having to contrive some scenario to get you alone. The stars aligned marvelously for him and by the end of the night, he’ll be a richer man for it. A million dollars richer, to be exact.

Leaning around you, Bucky extends a hand to reach for the heavy iron poker sitting in the stand beside the hearth. He drags the long shaft out, removing it with a resounding metallic scrape. You take a small step back with the intention of giving Bucky more space to stoke the slow-growing fire, but instead he tucks the poker under his arm and moves towards the center of the room.

“It’s gettin’ hot in here,” Bucky mutters to himself.

For a moment, you think he says it as a joke or a come-on, but as he leans the poker on a plush armchair and reaches for the buttons on his jacket, you realize he really meant it. Turning your attention back to the crackling flames, you hear the shuffling sound of Bucky removing his jacket before he falls still and silent behind you.

With your back to him, Bucky can hardly believe how easy this is going to be. Inching closer without making a sound, his damp palms wring anxiously around the steel handle of the poker cradled in his hands. He moves gracefully, the muscles in his shoulders rippling beneath his tight shirt as he lifts his arms, his form matching that of a baseball player.

It’ll be quick; not necessarily painless, but at least it will be over before you even realize what’s hit you. Literally. Except that you choose that exact moment to rotate towards Bucky and compliment him on his lovely home, forcing him to drop his elbows back to his sides and roll his shoulders, feigning a stretch in order to hide the real reason for his waving around the poker.

Disappointed but not discouraged, Bucky resigns himself to waiting for the next window of opportunity, of which he’s sure there’ll be plenty. He steps forward to actually stoke the fire then, halted only by the buzzing sound of a timer from the kitchen.

You follow him around the corner, your senses assaulted by the mouth-watering aroma of what he’s cooking. It astounds you how impressive his kitchen is, though considering how much he enjoyed cooking when you knew him, you should have expected it.

“Smells delicious, Buck,” you praise, watching as he brandishes a wooden spoon and expertly stirs the boiling pot atop the stove.

“Hey, thanks again for coming over and letting me cook for you,” he voices. “Since apparently you didn’t want to be seen in public with me.”

The huge smile decorating Bucky’s attractive face lets you know that he’s merely being facetious. You roll your eyes playfully and take a sip of your wine, watching as Bucky awaits your response. He taps the spoon against the edge of the pot, ridding it of excess sauce before dropping it to the counter. Hands reaching towards his wrists, his fingers move nimbly and roll his starched sleeves up to his elbows while he continues waiting for you to defend yourself.

“I just remember what a great cook you are,” you justify, a hand lifted in a gesture of surrender. “You can take me out next time...unless you don’t want to.”

You’re completely unaware of the double-meaning your words hold for Bucky. He doesn’t want to take you out. But he has to. A job is a job. And for the amount of money at stake? He’ll make damn sure to do it and do it right.

“I’ll take you out, don’t you worry.”

A short exhale of laughter escapes you and you step aside to allow Bucky to open the massive, double-doored fridge where he gathers an armful of ingredients from within. He drops them onto the granite countertop before opening a drawer to pull out a large knife. The blade glints in the low light of the kitchen as he lays it carefully beside a cutting board and a wide bowl. Unable to withstand the uneasiness that comes with Bucky having access to a weapon, you eagerly offer your assistance.

“Can I help with anything?” you ask.

“You know how to make a salad?” Bucky questions, regretting his words upon seeing the seething look you send his way. “Sorry, stupid question.”

You share a laugh as Bucky swings his arm in invitation, giving you full access to the ingredients...and the knife. After rinsing the lettuce, you chop it with sure and steady movements, all the while keeping an ear out for any signs of movement behind you. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you find Bucky’s attention fully invested in the bubbling pot he stirs methodically.

Looking down at the knife cradled in your hand, you realize what a perfect opportunity this is. With Bucky’s back facing you, it’s an extremely tempting place to bury said knife. You walk on tiptoes, taking care to keep your noisy heels elevated as you sneak closer. Just as you raise the knife in preparation, the floor creaks beneath your feet and your heart nearly stops.

Bucky rounds on you slowly, a curious look in his eyes. You swiftly tuck the knife behind your back and do the only thing you can think of to remedy the situation. With your free hand, you reach for the collar of Bucky’s shirt where it had upturned when he removed his jacket earlier. Your fingers curl around the fabric, smoothing it down while you offer Bucky a flirtatious smile. For added effect, you make sure to let your hand drag over his shoulder and down his back where it lingers briefly just above the waist of his slacks.

Like a gift from the heavens, the pot on the stove chooses that moment to begin boiling over. The instant Bucky’s eyes are off of you, you spin around to return to the half-made salad. You mentally chide yourself while trying not to take your frustrations out on the poor tomato before you.

Your fingers nearly fall victim to the determined chops of your knife when you feel the heat of Bucky’s body against your back. At first, he allows a breadth of distance between you, but upon hearing your sharp inhale of realization, he dares to press more insistently against you. He’s warm and firm and fuck, he smells good. Your eyes flutter along with your heartbeat as your chopping slows to a stop.

It’s bold — he knows — but Bucky wants to keep you on your toes. He needs to keep you off balance. You’re too perceptive for him to fool you, so he has to use the one thing he knows will distract you: a touch of flirting here, a little wooing there. Whatever it takes. As he braces his body against yours, he can’t help peering over your shoulder towards your cleavage. Enjoying the view for only a moment, he reminds himself that he’s supposed to be distracting you.

Bucky raises his hands then and places them gently around your waist. The touch is innocent enough, though he takes notice of the way your breathing picks up and your fingers loosen slightly around the handle of the knife. It’s that tiny movement that has him considering the idea of snatching the knife out of your hand and using it to slit your throat. He battles with the notion, not knowing you’d nearly plunged this same knife into his back only moments ago.

Ultimately, he decides to spare you for now. It pains him to know he must kill the woman he’s spent so much of his life pining after. However, a million dollars is a considerably decent consolation prize; a compromise he’s more than willing to make. Returning his focus to the task at hand, Bucky allows his hands to wander lower.

The warmth of his touch drags over your hips, pausing to allow his thumbs to massage gently along the flesh. When his hands continue their journey, your heart races for an entirely different reason. Somehow his fingers slipped right past the syringe in your pocket, but he’s inching closer and closer to the holsters strapped to either thigh and he’s about to blow your cover. Just when you’re about to go on the offense and attack, Bucky halts, his fingers nearly coming in contact with the edge of holsters hidden beneath your dress. He inhales loudly — whether to draw in your scent or to steady himself, you’re not entirely sure — and lets his hands fall away from your body before crossing the room back to the stove.

When you finally gather the mental fortitude to return to Earth, it occurs to you that you need to get this done and get it done soon. Bucky’s flirtations have already almost compromised your mission and you can’t risk it happening again. Tossing the last handful of ingredients into the salad bowl, you face Bucky as you dry your hands on a towel.

You observe him for a moment, wondering what he’s thinking about over there. A small — and admittedly soft — part of you hopes his last thoughts are pleasant ones, at least. If you could read his mind, you’d be shocked by the reality of what is actually going through his complex little brain. While you’re standing there feeling bad for him, Bucky is feeling an equal pang of pity towards you. You’ve naively walked straight into the lion’s den, not knowing what fate awaits you.

Bucky’s age-old crush is certainly making him regret that he won’t be getting laid tonight like he’d always imagined when he fantasized about seeing you again someday; you’ll forever be the one that got away, and he feels sorry for himself. But he feels even more sorry for you. Coming here tonight with the sole purpose of a nice, elegant dinner with an old friend? Poor little lamb...what a disappointing way for your date to end.

Utilizing the broad expanse of his back, Bucky blocks your view as he fills two bowls. As a nice finishing touch, he drops a thin layer of crystalline powder into your dish, watching it dissolve among the collection of pelmeni. Unaware of Bucky’s mischief, you’re busy considering whether you should dunk his head into the boiling hot pot, scalding his beautiful face and drowning him in his own meticulously prepared meal, but he turns to you with a proud, close-mouthed smile before you have the chance.

Hands full with the plated food, Bucky gestures to a wine fridge nestled beneath the counter and instructs you to select a bottle. Admitting your lack of knowledge on wine, Bucky concedes, handing you the plates and promising that he’ll pick something you’ll love. He shoos you away to the dining room and assures you he’ll join you in a second.

You’re intrigued by the romantic mood created by the many flickering candles lining the center of the intricately carved table. As you gingerly set the plates down on the table and take a seat, Bucky slips silently into the room behind you. Carefully picking a path, Bucky stands only inches behind your chair, wielding a large bottle of wine just above your head. Heart pounding with adrenaline, Bucky swings the bottle forcefully just as your elbow knocks your fork to the floor with a clatter and you lurch sideways to rescue it.

Bucky mouths a litany of curses, startling you as he appears suddenly at your side, corkscrew and bottle in hand. You smile awkwardly at one another and Buck pops the cork loudly before pouring you a healthy serving of the sweet-smelling alcohol.

Conversation flows as does the quickly-dwindling wine and you’re grateful that the anticipation for your kill hasn’t ruined your appetite. Bucky’s pelmeni is just as delicious as you remembered and you fight the urge to lick your plate clean. You finish off your second — or is it your third? — glass of wine and Bucky is prompt in refilling it before you’ve even had a chance to set it back on the table. The ruby liquid sloshes in your glass as Bucky upturns the bottle and the last dredges drip rapidly from the neck. He moves to fetch a second bottle as his own glass remains regrettably empty, though you stop him before he can fully stand.

“I’ll get it!” you offer loudly, blaming your obvious eagerness on the Merlot-tinted fog in your brain.

“You’re my guest, I’ve got it,” Bucky counters.

“C’mon, Buck,” you argue. “You invited me into your beautiful home and cooked me a delicious meal. It’s the least I can do.”

Awaiting Bucky’s surrender, you smile brightly at him before grabbing the corkscrew and strutting to the kitchen. You know you’ve imbibed more than you should have and you need to get your blood pumping in order to clear your head. You select a bottle of red wine from the fully stocked fridge, not bothering to check if it’s the same as the bottle you’ve already finished off. The cork squeaks annoyingly before releasing with a pop and you drop the corkscrew haphazardly. Reaching for the pendant on your necklace, you beg your shaking hands to relax.

Vibrating hands or not, you manage to empty the entirety of the strychnine into the open bottle and you watch the tiny crystals dissolve as they sink. You can’t help the arrogant smirk that adorns your face as you head back to the dining room where Bucky awaits your return. The evidence of your happiness vanishes altogether when you catch the glimpse of silver as Bucky conceals a small knife under his hand and slips it off the tabletop. He shifts in his seat to cover the movement, though you can tell he’s tucking it into the pocket of his tailored slacks. Suddenly, you find yourself wondering if maybe Bucky had been just a little too eager to have you over for dinner.

Part Three

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #assassin!bucky barnes #assassin!bucky #assassin AU #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan

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ymiwritesstuff · 3 years

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A Helping Wing

Quick Revali scenario, I have had this idea for some time now and I’m finally posting it lol. Anyway enjoy soft, worried Revali!

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

Summary: A trip to Goron City gets an unexpected turn with an even more unexpected reaction from the Rito Champion.

Notes: Injury

The scorching heat that dominated the air on the way to Death Mountain would have been unbearable if it weren’t for the fireproof elixirs you had made well in advance. Still, the hot air had its effect on you as you found yourself wiping tiny beads of sweat from your forehead every now and then as you walked along the rocky path. You could only imagine how the thickly feathered Rito behind you was most likely suffering from the heat much more than you were.

“Remind me again why are we on this absolutely horrendous trip to Goron City in the first place,” Revali complained behind you, eyebrows frowned in annoyance. A part of you knew that this would happen. Knowing him, just about any small nuisance in his way made his beak spill out words of irritation. All you could do was sigh.

“Daruk got seriously injured and Mipha requested us to bring her some supplies so she could heal him faster,” you explained, though had already done so when you initially started your trip to the city. You threw him a quick glance. “Without these, the process could take days.” You lifted the bag on your shoulder that held the herbs and potions the young Zora had asked for. Revali merely scoffed.

“Well, if this is such an important mission, why are we wasting our time on foot when we have two perfectly operational wings right here?” He motioned to his wings with his eyes. “Surely we would get there faster and be done with this cumbersome task.” You let out a laugh, keeping your eyes forward.

“As if you would let me climb on your precious little back,” you mocked. If there was something you knew about Revali is that he had too much pride in, well, everything, so you knew that what he was implying was practically impossible. Even if he was willing to let go of his ego in this rare, inconvenient situation, there was a problem with his idea. “Besides, the herbs would just fly out and burn if we’re that high up.” You turned around to look at him.

“We’re almost there. Just hang in there a little longer."

Revali clicked his tongue but eventually sighed, accepting your words. Despite his exasperation, you were right. Even with the effects of the elixir, flying high surrounded by the hot air would do damage to the precious contents of your bag, but also to him and you. His feathers would probably catch fire and that was the last thing he wanted. So, he continued to walk behind you, muttering miffed words under his breath.

As you pressed on under the extreme temperature, something quickly caught your eye. You stopped and Revali looked at you, raising his brow in confusion before your voice came through.

“Bokoblins.” You nodded towards the creatures. “Four of them.” They danced around as they usually did without a care in the world. The Rito crossed his wings.

“Nothing you can’t handle,” he stated, his words making you look at him in bewilderment.

“Me? Are you not going to help?” You purposely kept your voice down, as the Bokoblins hadn’t yet detected either of you. Your question was met with a smug smirk that stretched the edges of his beak.

“I am rather exhausted from this awful heat, and I’d rather let you do the honors, seeing as you seem to be quite determined in getting to the city in the first place.” You couldn’t believe his words. Revali was many things, but lazy was something you could have never expected. There was the possibility that he was telling the truth, but the pompous grin on his face made you doubt this. However, he was right in saying that defeating a few Bokoblins was no difficult task.

“Fine,” You spat and tossed the bag of supplies at him before grabbing your bow, a part of you regretting the decision to ask him to come with you in the first place. “I really hate you, you know?” Revali held the bag and took a few steps back, the smirk never fading from his face.

“The feeling is mutual.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned away from him, your eyes gluing themselves on your target. The Bokoblins were in a nice little pile, so taking them out would be easy. However, you could feel Revali’s judging eyes boring into your back, watching your every move. At this point, you thought that he may have abstained from helping you just to see how you would do with the bow and then possibly mock you for an incorrect technique only he could see.

You shook the thought away. Now was not the time to worry about Revali’s judgment. Your only task was to bring the supplies to Mipha and not pay attention to his foolishness. Still, in the back of your mind, some part of you wanted to impress him for whatever reason, so you attempted to take all of the Bokoblins out at once.

Revali watched as you prepared for your attack, that arrogant smirk still apparent. His eyes watched as you gripped the bow, how you tested the string and how you finally grabbed an arrow from your quiver and-

Suddenly, his expression changed to a panicked one as his widened eyes noticed the grave mistake you had made that took the form of the arrow you had chosen: A bright red, sizzling bomb arrow.

Revali quickly jumped into the air and grabbed the back of your shirt with his talons, pulling you away from the massive explosion caused by the arrow and the surrounding air. Your eyes widened at the blast, and you instinctively shielded yourself with your arms as you were pulled back before feeling your back slam against an armored chest.

The Rito stumbled back and fell to the rocky ground, softening your fall by having you land on his chest. The sound rang in your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them once you couldn’t feel the heat of the flames any longer. You blinked and looked at your burned bow that laid on the ground, the Bokoblins fleeing the sight, frightened by the loud noise. It had all happened so fast, you only realized your mistake when Revali opened his beak:

“Are you out of your mind?!” He yelled behind you, voice filled with anger and concern. “You could have gotten both of us killed! How could you possibly think using a bomb arrow at a place like this was a good idea?!” You slowly stood up, still shaken by the accident.

“Are you truly that foolish? That you don’t know that a bomb arrow will explode as soon as it makes contact with the hot air?”

Of course you knew. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even realized that you had grabbed a bomb arrow and now you were scolded by your stupid mistake. Your eyes found the ground below you, embarrassment settling in your stomach. “I’m sorry... I just... I didn’t even realize,” You said, trying to somehow explain your actions, though you were more taken aback by his reaction. You had never heard him use his voice in such a manner.

A sigh left Revali’s beak as he tried to calm himself down. Truthfully, he didn’t fully know why he reacted in such a fiery manner.

“You’re hurt,” he finally said. You looked up at him and saw his eyes glued to your arm. Then you felt the burning pain on it. A significant piece of fabric from your sleeve was burned, the jagged hole revealing your reddened skin that sent waves of pain and discomfort throughout the rest of your arm. You hissed in pain and grabbed the abused area with your other hand.

You noticed Revali grabbing something from a bag of his own and motioning you to sit on a rock conveniently placed on the side of the road. You took his offer and sat down, fighting back tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. You glanced at Revali, who carried a white, jiggly blob of... something in his wing while walking towards you.

“What is that?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the unknown substance.

“White Chuchu jelly.” Revali kneeled beside you, expression neutral, rid of any signs of arrogance or judgment. “It should help with the burn,” he stated, pressing the jelly on the surface of your arm, the cool temperature of it immediately easing your pain. You let out a shaky breath.

“Why do you even have that?” You were unable to look at him, something inside you making your stomach churn. You felt his wings wrapping a bandage around your arm, the jelly staying on your skin.

“Well, I would have used it to cool myself off, but it appears that you need it more than I do after that ridiculous stunt you pulled.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“I said I didn’t realize what I was doing I just-”

“Didn’t pay attention,” he interrupted. You were about to argue but after realizing that he was correct, you let out a heavy sigh instead. Revali finished wrapping your wound and stood up, briefly glancing at your destroyed bow.

“What a waste,” he sighed, walking back to the bags, relieved to see the supplies still intact. You stood up, looking at your bandaged arm and then at him. Despite his somewhat rude and cocky exterior, he apparently cared about you enough to at least tend to your wound when he technically didn’t need to. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Revali.”

The Rito briefly stopped what he was doing, likely processing your words. You couldn’t see his face, so his expression was left a mystery. He on the other hand was grateful you didn’t witness the feathers on his face puff up ever so slightly. The accident startled him more than he would have liked to admit and was grateful that he was able to pull you out in time.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he finally said, regaining his usual attitude. He stood up and picked both bags up from the ground.

“We haven’t reached our destination yet and I clearly misjudged your abilities, who knows what ridiculous mistake you might make next.” For the first time, you let out a tiny laugh at his words, following him as he began walking.

“Well, I guess asking for your assistance in this little task of mine wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.”

Revali chuckled and shook his head at your words, his usual arrogance embedded in his response:

“Oh, (Name).” His glimmering eyes glanced at you, smirk once again decorating his features.

“What would you do without me?”

#loz #botw #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda breath of the wild #loz botw #botw revali #loz revali #revali #loz botw revali #breath of the wild revali #revali x reader #loz revali x reader #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #legend of zelda revali x reader #revali x you #reader insert

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lou-struck · 3 years

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A Night in With: Denki Kaminari

Kaminari X Reader Fluff

When going out is not an option, a night in with the person you care about most is just what the doctor ordered.

WC: 1,400+

This week has been rougher than most for you and your fiancé Denki Kaminari, between his hero work and your full-time job you guys haven’t had any time as of late to catch up and see each other.

The news of the opening of a trendy new restaurant tore through your office like wildfire, as soon as word of the unique layout and amazing Pub Grub reached your ears you wanted to book a reservation the next night you and Denki both had off. He of course was absolutely ecstatic to get to go out on the town with you all dolled up on his arm so he happily agreed. Leading you to book a reservation for next Friday night at 8:30 PM...

Which couldn’t have felt farther away, with your conflicting schedules and congruent deadlines you and Denki were hardly able to see each other at all. When you would just manage to crawl into bed Denki would be getting up for his patrol. The reservation was turning into yet another chore added to your to-do list.

Friday afternoon you manage to leave the office after finishing the small mountain of paperwork at your desk, avoiding unnecessary conversations with nosy co-workers, and Clearing your inbox. Basically at the end of the day, your productivity levels are off the charts. Sneaking out the back door and hopping into your car as fast as you could in order to have enough time to freshen up for your date with your electrifying partner…

Well, that was the plan anyway. The typically short commute back home took ages due to unplanned construction that closed most lanes of traffic. Once you were off the freeway the setting sun was shining directly into your eyes making driving confidently almost impossible, not to mention you missed every single light possible. A fifteen-minute drive took nearly an hour thanks to a series of minor inconveniences that only drained your energy further. Making it to your front door you stumbled in only to find the disaster that awaited you inside.

Due to the craziness of the prior week, your apartment was in shambles; Dishes were piled up in the sink and on the countertops, packing peanuts littered the living room floor and the couch cushions were covered with various hampers of laundry that was needing to be washed and folded. As if on autopilot you made your way to the unmade bed and flopped down just wanting to close your eyes for five minutes….ten minutes….

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Denki’s keys jingled at the front door softly about half-past seven. After an uneventful patrol, the stun gun hero was so excited to spend the weekend with you and spoil you in every way he knew how starting with this evening.

Making his way across the living room he curses under his breath when he sees the remains of what was surely a tiny tornado that must have gone through the apartment. A pang of guilt shoots through his heart when he recognizes that a vast majority of the mess before him was most likely his fault. Walking into the bedroom he finds you sprawled atop the covers of your unmade bed; your work shoes still on your feet.

He goes to gently wake you up but stops when he takes notice of the exhaustion on your beautiful features caused by the long week of overworking yourself in order to spend the weekend with him. He wants to spend time with you but he doesn't think that the restaurant is in the cards tonight due to your tired state.

A lightbulb moment came to him just then. Reservation be damned, If quality time is what you want then he is going to do everything in his power to give it to you. Gently he removes your shoes. Picking you up carefully he moves to tuck you into bed just for a little longer so he can get to work.

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A few hours later you wake up feeling well-rested. Pulling back the covers with confusion you turn over to check the time on your now charging phone. It’s just barely nine o’clock which means that you have missed your reservation. With a jolt, you quickly move to get yourself out of bed only to be tangled up in the sheets causing you to slip off the bed and onto the carpeted floor with an “oof”.

Upon hearing the sound of your body meeting the floor your dear sweet partner pokes his head into the room only to burst out laughing as he helps you escape your cotton and polyester prison lightly shocking you as his hand meets yours. “Denks” you began “I missed our reservation I’m so sorry. It’s jus….” He looks at you softly and cuts you off lightly cupping your slightly warm face.

“Babe, we missed our reservation. I just saw you sleeping and I couldn't bring myself to wake you up. I know how busy you have been this week bending over backward for us.” His golden eyes dart quickly around the room before continuing, a look of guilt adorning his features.

You give him a small smile as take his hand hoping to raise his spirits. “Baby, I’m happy I don’t have to share you with the rest of the world tonight, I want to spend time with .” you say as a weight you didn't know you were carrying was lifted off your chest.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something else tonight?” He raises an eyebrow at you suggestively before taking your hand almost dragging you out into the living room.

To your surprise the apartment is spotless, the dishes are no longer piling in the sink and the countertop has been wiped down. The Couch has been reassembled but is now covered with a few neat piles of extra blankets and your favorite snacks are laying atop the coffee table next to a small stack of video games.

“I went ahead and called the restaurant.” He starts with a little grin. “They said that we could move our reservation to tomorrow night! It may have helped that I used my hero name when making the new reservation though,” he says embarrassedly rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Anyways… I just wanted to do something for us tonight where we could just hang out and relax.”

“If we are going to relax then I may want to change into something a little more comfortable” you say looking down at your now wrinkled work clothes. He plants a kiss atop your head before heading over to a basket of freshly folded laundry taking out one of his old UA t-shirts and some sleep shorts.

A quick knock is heard at the front door. “You should get changed while I take care of the Pizza he says handing you the bundle of clothes.” he says as you head back into your room to change and put on a pair of fuzzy socks.

Thinking about what he has done makes you tear up slightly, tonight was a much needed reminded to your overworked brain that the love he has for you is unconditionally yours and no matter how busy the two of you can get there will always be time that the two of you can spend together.

Padding back into the living room Denki is hard at work adding more pillows and cushions into a pile on the carpeted floor. Your heart melts just looking at him.

“Does this mean we can build a pillow fort?” You ask running your hand over a large memory foam pillow that looks like a great support beam for the fort your mind is already putting together.

“Of course it does,” he grins as you start building the foundation of the fort making it plush and comfortable for the long night ahead of you.

“Thank you Denks, ” you say looking up at him with a wobbly smile on your face. “I love you more than anything”

“I bet I love you more” he says pulling you into his arms for a long hug you can feel him smiling against you as he tries to waddle the two of you over to the fort so that your evening of vegging out, cuddling, and beating him at Mario Kart can begin.

#kaminari x reader #denki kaminari #bnha x reader #kaminari fluff #denki kaminari x reader #bnha fluff

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

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An Inconvenient Attachment (myg+jjk+pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Jungkook x Yoongi, Jimin x Jungkook, Jungkook x Yoongi, minor Hoseok x Seokjin Genre: smut, fantasy/supernatural au, fluff, enemies to lovers, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers Final Rating: Explicit Word Count (Chapter): ~15k

Tags (more added as needed): werewolf Jungkook, vampire Yoongi, human Jimin, kumiho Seokjin, selkie Hoseok, snowed in, handcuffed together, friends with benefits, polyamory, past violence, past murder, past abuse, discussion of murder, semi-graphic descriptions of violence, blood drinking, threesome, sharing a bed, multiple partners, dirty talk, oral sex, coming untouched

Summary: When Yoongi agreed to go on a two week winter getaway to the mountains with his roommates, he expected peace, quiet, and plenty of alone time with his roommate with benefits Jungkook. What he did not expect was to be handcuffed to his worst enemy for the duration of the trip. He figured it couldn't get worse... Until it did.

A/N: This fic was written for the @thebtswritersclub Fic Exchange for sujigguk! Sorry it was so late, I hope you enjoy it! | This fic also fulfills the July Prompt for X to Lovers! A/N 2: Banner made by @imyourhobiii - thank you so much! A/N 3: This also fills the square Road Trip for @bangtanwritingbingo

As a vampire, one would think the worst thing about living with a human would be the temptation, the bloodlust. But for Yoongi… The worst part of living with Jimin was that he was the most fucking annoying, ridiculous human that Yoongi had ever had the misfortune of meeting in sixty years of life. Draining him would be a welcomed reprieve.

However, the man Yoongi had – rather surprisingly – fallen in love with was also in love with the trifling human and his stupid pretty mouth and his horribly adorable hands, and – no. Yoongi was not wandering down that path again.

Jimin was the son of vampire hunters. Murders of so many of Yoongi’s kind. And though Jimin had sworn that he had renounced their way of thinking and was estranged from them… Born into a family of killers made him just as untrustworthy, in Yoongi’s mind. Certain crimes simply could not be repented for and yes, sometimes the son did need to bear the crimes of the father.

Yoongi tolerated Jimin for Jungkook’s sake, the dopey wolf boy that had wriggled into his undead heart; and for their fourth roommate – Jin – a Kumiho with an odd affection for the human. In fact, Yoongi often felt like he was the only one that didn’t like Jimin.

And recently, more and more, Yoongi was starting to wonder if Jimin hated him as much as he hated Jimin. Especially lately; it seemed like everything Jimin did was done specifically to annoy Yoongi.

Which is likely why Yoongi ended up in a car, sitting next to his mortal (literally) enemy, on the way to an isolated cabin that Jin’s boyfriend, Hoseok owned. Jin had suggested it a few days after a particularly aggressive fight between Jimin and he, where he not only showed his fangs, but may or may not have thrown an open bag of blood at Jimin.

The trip hadn’t been so bad so far, Yoongi had to admit. They were driving straight through, and the drive was two days away from the city. Jimin was forced into a seat next to Yoongi, but was keeping to himself, reading and staring out the window or talking to Jungkook. Jungkook was in the front with Jin and was, at that very moment, pestering the hell out of the fox shifter.

Normally Yoongi would jump in and soothe the excitable wolf’s mood, but at the moment… Let them both suffer. This diabolical idea to get him to play nice with Jimin was likely both of theirs, so they could deal. Even immortality could not cure Yoongi’s sense of petty revenge.

Yoongi reached into the small bag next to his feet, withdrawing a bag of chilled blood. He grimaced. A microwave would have been nice; but they weren’t scheduled to stop for quite some time – and only really to let the more humanlike ones stretch their legs. He pinched open the tip of the bag, tilting it back into his mouth. The sticky, sickly sweet fluid hit his tongue. Cold or not, it was the most refreshing thing he’d had in hours. He was able to go quite a number of days without blood, but dammit if it wasn’t uncomfortable.

As he drank, he glanced over at Jimin from the corner of his eye. Jimin was reading a book, paying him no attention. How could a human pay someone no attention when they were drinking blood right next to him? Yoongi righted the bag, scowling down at it. Why did he want Jimin to pay attention to him? He hoped to disturb the human, perhaps. That’s what it was. Make Jimin uncomfortable and prove he secretly hated vampires just like his parents. Maybe then Jin and Jungkook wouldn’t love him so much.

“Jiminie,” Jungkook whined. He turned in his seat, leaning into the back. “Yoongi…”

“What?” Jimin and Yoongi answered at nearly the same time.

“Will you two go for a run with me in the woods next time we stop? I’m itchy.”

Yoongi scoffed. “Why bother asking the human? He can’t keep up with you like I can.”

Jimin shifted a little. He smiled softly. “He’s right.”

“So? I’ll let you ride on my back,” Jungkook offered.

“That’s not running with you then. Yoongi can go with you.”

Jungkook pouted a little but nodded. He wriggled himself further between the seats, grabbing for Jimin. Before he could get him, Jin’s hand emerged. He grabbed the collar of Jungkook’s shirt and yanked him back. “Stop distracting the driver!” He snapped.

“You bully,” Jungkook complained, smacking at him despite his warning. The two very quickly fell into another playful bicker, leaving Yoongi in peace with his thoughts. Next to him, Yoongi felt Jimin shift, and then again, before hearing him sigh. He looked over. Jimin had curled up onto the seat, bunching a hoodie under his head against the window to rest. He was getting on toward nighttime, Yoongi supposed. Day and night blended for him these days – and Jungkook was naturally nocturnal. It must have been hard to be where Jimin was, he thought as he watched Jimin sleep. A home with three creatures so different from himself. And in love – or at least lust – with one of them. A pang of sympathy shot through Yoongi’s chest. He grimaced at himself. What was he doing. Maybe there was something in the car, poisoning him. Pitying the rotten human? Never. Yoongi scoffed to himself. He nuzzled himself into the other corner of the seat, pulling his legs up under him. He “accidentally” let one slip, kicking Jimin squarely in the thigh. Jimin shot upright, grimacing. From his mostly closed lids, Yoongi could see Jimin look down at his leg where he’d been kicked, then over at Yoongi. Instead of getting angry, much to Yoongi’s surprise (and discomfort), Jimin smiled. He shook his head and laid back down, snuggling against the hoodie.

Being technically undead, Yoongi didn’t require sleep. He had periods where he needed to rest, usually early in the morning around sunrise, but not necessarily sleep in the human sense of the phrase. But boy, did he like it. Sleeping was great. Six to eight hours of just not existing, having fun dreams, waking up to a new day – Yoongi couldn’t ever imagine willingly not sleeping like some of his vampire friends. However, much like a human who slept away a third of their hours, sleeping made Yoongi absolutely ravenous upon waking. Which wasn’t normally a problem.

Except when he was in a car. With a living being that was filled with his only food source. And somehow in his sleep had wound up snuggling against said obnoxious human’s stupidly soft neck.

Yoongi felt his fangs poking his bottom lip before he realized it. He inhaled sharply. Oh, that smelled delicious. His mouth watered in response, and he inhaled again, opening his mouth instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open and he shifted, hunting for the source of the bittersweet, rich aroma. Instead of a particularly juicy steak or even a cup of blood warmed thoughtfully by Jungkook, Yoongi’s gaze fell on Jimin. The human’s shaggy black hair had fallen over his eyes as he slept, his plush lips wet and parted. His pulse was throbbing firm and steady by Yoongi’s ear.

He shot up, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car.

Jin glanced back. “Maggot bite your ass or something?” He teased.

“I’ll bite you,” Yoongi grumbled. He wriggled as far away from Jimin and his stupid sweet smelling blood as he could before digging into his bag and pulling out the other satchel of blood he’d stored in it. It should be all he needed until they reached the cabin, and once there they had packed a solid supply of blood bags for him. Good too – because based on the weather as the car climbed into the mountains, Yoongi wondered if they might not be snowed in for a few days.

The final rest stop was only a few more miles. Jin pulled in, stepping out to stretch his legs. Jungkook bounded out himself, taking a quick peek to make sure they were alone. He stripped shamelessly out of his clothing, piling it on the seat and seemingly unaware of the brisk chill in the air.

“Yoongi!” He called, nearly bouncing with excitement and wiggling out of his skin.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Yoongi grumped, crawling out of the car himself. He watched Jungkook shift from a two-legged ball of energy into a massive four legged one, unable to keep from smiling. In wolf form, Jungkook was just as stunning as his human form. Dark black fur streaked with blonde, massive paws and bright hazel eyes that shone in the light. He barked sharply before taking off toward the tree line. Yoongi followed, catching up and keeping up easily as they darted through the trees.

The two ran for a solid twenty minutes, looping through the woods and back toward the rest stop. As they neared the tree line, Jungkook skidded to a stop, his large paws kicking up dirt and leaves as he did. Yoongi stopped next to him, walking at a slower pace out of the trees. The rest area was still empty, save for their vehicle. Jin was nowhere to be found; probably had taken the time to have his own running session in the woods.

In the fading light of the sunset, Yoongi could see Jimin. He’d wandered a few yards from the car and was lying on a picnic table. His shaggy hair flopped back from his forehead, toned arms up and bulging just a little as he cradled the back of his head against the cold wood. One knee up, leg of his shorts falling back to reveal his smooth thigh, thick with well-defined muscles. He had to be freezing, lying outside in shorts – but they all had weird temperature mechanics after living with Jungkook so long

Next to Yoongi, Jungkook shifted, and Yoongi scoffed. “All that working out the human does, and he still can’t begin to keep up with you.”

When Jungkook didn’t answer, Yoongi glanced over, a little surprised to see Jungkook scowling.

“What? I’m not wrong. He’ll never give you all you need – You love running.”

“What makes you think I need a running partner to have a happy relationship? Jimin can’t run as fast as you or me, but he supports me in other ways.”

“A relationship now, huh?” Yoongi sniped. “Since when was he more than your human toy?”

“Yoongi—” Jungkook hesitated then shook his head. He grabbed his clothes from the car and began tugging them on. “You know I’m fucking both of you. It’s never bothered you before.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Fine. You’ve never been so malicious about it before. Why are you so mean to him anyways? Jimin’s never done anything but try to be kind to you.”

“You know why, Jungkook. If his family were wolf hunters, maybe you’d understand.”

“He’s never hurt one of your kind.”

“Sins of the father, just like his family believes.”

“And he disowned his family because he believes all creatures, living or undead, deserve a chance to be happy. Jin would have never let him into our house if he sensed even a whisper of hatred from that man. And I’m not as stupid as you think either. I may not be some wise old vampire but I am half canine. And we can sense intentions pretty well. You’d do better to try and get along with Jimin.” Jungkook yanked his shirt on, patting his hair down. “Never know, maybe you’d learn something you didn’t expect about him.”

“Oh, like what?” Yoongi grunted, leaning against the car.

“Not my place to say,” Jungkook said simply. “But you’ll never find out if you keep being a needless jerk.”

He blinked in surprise at Jungkook’s unexpected snap, watching him pad off toward where Jimin was lying. Yoongi opted instead to get back into the vehicle, sensing that he’d pushed his annoyance a bit too far with the younger this time.

When Jin returned from his own jaunt in the forest, Jimin and Jungkook returned to the car. Jimin slid into the seat next to Yoongi, offering a soft smile at him. Yoongi remained stone faced. Did he feel a little bad for what he said? Not that he’d ever admit.

Jungkook wriggled in next to Jimin, forcing him over closer to Yoongi.

“Wh—” “Wanna sit back here for a bit,” Jungkook said simply.

“I can move up front,” Jimin offered.

“No. I wanna sit by you both.”

“Then get between us.” “Jin’s about to start driving. I’ll crawl over later. I can reach you both.” Jungkook reached over and grabbed Yoongi’s hand for emphasis. Yoongi frowned but said nothing more, though he did twine his fingers with Jungkook’s, squeezing firmly once.

Yoongi let his mind wander as they began to drive once more, staring out the window as the last rays of the day slid down below the horizon. He felt Jungkook’s hand shift away from his, resting on his thigh for a moment before disappearing. There was a slight shuffle, and then Yoongi felt something thin and cold hit his wrist and click. He looked down, brows shooting up when he realized his wrist now had an accessory… A steel handcuff. And said handcuff was attached to someone else… Park Jimin.

Yoongi looked over at Jungkook, who was grinning in his sheepish, bunny-rabbit way.

“Kook…”

“What did you do?” Jimin asked, lifting his wrist gently. He tugged Yoongi’s wrist up as he did.

“Well, you two avoid each other unless you’re fighting. And you’d do that even while we’re up in the cabin. Which is the literal reason we’re going up there, to try and help you two find a common ground. So, now you have no choice but to play nice or end up not being able to do anything.” Jungkook crossed his arms, looking smug as he spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi grumbled. He grabbed the bracelet of the cuffs. “I can’t just snap—” As he spoke, he tugged and twisted at the metal, expecting it to bend open in his grip.

“I can break—” He tried the chain.

“No, you can’t,” Jungkook said simply. “I got monster proof cuffs. Amazing what you can find with a little clever digging these days.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin whispered. He shook his head. “Don’t do this to him.” He offered his wrist as well as he could. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be, Jimin,” Jungkook said, his smile fading. “You’re my best friend. So is Yoongi. And you both know my feelings run much deeper than that for you both.”

“Then let yourself have those feelings, you don’t need to stress him out like this.”

“I can’t. Even though we may share those feelings… I can’t date one or both of you knowing you hate each other. It doesn’t feel right to me, and I’m not going to have a peaceful relationship knowing that.”

“Date?” Yoongi perked up. “You want to date us?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Maybe. I guess it’ll depend on how this goes. How hard you’re willing to try to get along. I won’t lose either one of you. Whether it progresses from our current sort of friends with benefits deal to more…” Jungkook drifted off. “I’ll unlock the cuffs when we’re back in the car on the way home. Not a minute sooner.”

Jimin sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.

Yoongi bit back a sharp remark about how disappointed he looked – he was disappointed too. Despite the true point of this trip, Yoongi had been looking forward to a little quiet time with Jungkook. Perhaps even, yes, pushing the idea of taking their relationship from friends with benefits to a little more. He knew Jimin felt the same – or at least very similar – he wasn’t blind. He also knew Jungkook was unlikely to choose one over the other. He hadn’t in the three years they’d kept up this quirky triangle.

Yoongi tugged at the cuffs once more, weakly, pulling Jimin’s wrist along with it.

Jimin looked over at him, his plush lips stuck out in a bit of a pout. “I’ll try not to be too much of a bother,” he mumbled. Rather demurely, given what Yoongi knew of his normal sparky attitude.

“I’ve got a vampire hunter hanging off my wrist,” Yoongi snarked. “It’s already a bother.”

Jimin’s cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. He ground his teeth for a moment, eyes darkening. He wanted to say something. Yoongi almost wished he would. Let them start to fight – Jungkook might see this was a stupid idea if he did and take off these god-awful cuffs sooner.

But Jimin’s jaw released at the same time his shoulders relaxed again. He faced forward, holding his cuffed wrist delicately on his leg, as close to Yoongi as possible without touching him. Probably to give him more freedom of movement; not that the six-inch chain offered much room for that at all without yanking on one another.

Yoongi huffed, glaring around Jimin at Jungkook, who looked far too smug for what he’d done. He offered a wide, crinkly nosed grin and wriggled down in his seat, snuggling up against Jimin’s shoulder and burying his nose in his neck, his preferred sleeping position with anyone.

Yoongi slouched as far away from Jimin as he could and glared out the window. The weight of the cuff on his wrist made it impossible to relax, sleep, or even let his mind wander to anything except that. And the stupid human. He hated how calm Jimin was about this whole thing. And his pleading. On Yoongi’s behalf. What the hell was that?

Don’t do this to him.

Yoongi didn’t need the human defending him. He was able to stand up for himself. Why did Jimin sound so genuinely stressed out? Oh.

Yoongi scoffed. He looked over at Jimin. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna fucking eat you.”

Jimin blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“You panicking about the cuffs. I’m sure you think I’m gonna lose my mind and become some blood lust crazy monster just because I’m in proximity to a human.”

“No?” Jimin frowned. “You live with me and have never acted like that. Why would I think that?”

“You know why,” Yoongi tried to cross his arms, only succeeding in tugging Jimin’s wrist onto his lap.

Jimin let himself be tugged, still frowning in confusion at Yoongi. “I really don’t,” he finally said.

“It’s the reason you people kill my kind. You’re scared of us.”

“Maybe,” Jimin said. He shrugged. “I can’t say why humans kill vampires. Or wolves or selkies or any creatures. It’s not for food. Maybe it is fear. Maybe it’s sport.”

“Why don’t you just go ask your dad?”

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice was soft, gentle – as if he were talking to a scared animal. “I understand why you hate me. I would too, if I were in your place. I know you’re not happy with this.”

“Can say that again. Can’t even itch my fucking nose. At least your dominant hand is free, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, what do you actually do that you can’t do with your left?”

Yoongi turned a glare onto Jimin, who grinned. “You weren’t intending to jerk off with me right next to you, were you?” He teased.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Like I could get it up with you breathing down my neck, hunter,” he muttered.

“I told you I’d try not to be much of a bother, and I will do my best. I know you love Jungkook. We just need to keep it together for the week up here, for him. That’s it. Then we can go back to comfortable avoidance.”

Yoongi looked out the window. Jimin was right – he knew that much, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing Yoongi say it. So, he said nothing. They were climbing in elevation now, the trees thickening around the road as it became progressively bumpier. Patches of snow began to appear along the sides of the road and through the trees, and – entirely unsurprising to Yoongi – flakes began to drift down around the car.

The flakes were coming down in far larger clumps, piling a few inches thick by the time they pulled into the cabin. Jin sighed heavily, letting go of the steering wheel. He shook his hands out, rubbing at his palms.

“Those last few miles were hell,” he commented.

“We’re not going to be able to get back down if this keeps up,” Jungkook agreed.

The cabin door burst open as he did, and out rushed Hoseok. Jin climbed out of the car just in time to catch the leaping man, pressing a deep kiss to his mouth. Jungkook leapt out as well, grabbing Hoseok in a tight hug the moment Jin released him.

Yoongi watched the trio, his heart giving an uncomfortable little clench. All shifters. He and Jimin were the oddballs out in this group. He looked through the window. The trees were thick, and heavy with snow, obscuring the view almost entirely around them. Behind the large cabin with a friendly tendril of smoke rising from the chimney, was a stunning, still lake. Despite the grey coloring of the slowly rising sun, it was breathtaking. The water was crystal clear, nearly mirror like. A crust of ice had formed a few feet from the shore toward the center, and Yoongi assumed it would nearly encompass the lake within a few days if the snowfall kept up.

“You should probably get out first,” Jimin mumbled, pulling Yoongi out of his admiration of the scenery. He yanked open the door and climbed out, his left arm trailing back as he waited for Jimin to climb out behind him.

This was going to be dreadful. Everything would need to be done at a snail’s pace, compared to his normal speed, having the human hanging off his wrist.

Hoseok came around the side of the car, stopping short. His eyes drifted down to the cuffs connecting their wrists. Yoongi opened his mouth, about to warn or threaten the seal shifter away from a tease, when Hoseok began to laugh, nearly doubling over in pure joy at the predicament the two had found themselves in.

Jimin sighed heavily. “Lay off, Hobi,” he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over Hoseok’s cackling.

Hoseok righted himself, still holding his stomach and wiping tears. He shook his head, small titters of laughter emerging even as he tried to contain them.

“What a situation, eh?”

“It’s not funny,” Jimin stepped forward. “This isn’t fun for us. The least you could do is not laugh at us.”

“Oh come on, you won’t mind it all that much,” Hoseok slapped Jimin on the shoulder. “God knows you’ve been fond of living dead boy for ages.”

Yoongi looked over fast enough to see Jimin’s eyes bulge. He swiped at Hoseok with his free left, baring his teeth in the universal sign for ‘shut it’.

Fond of the living dead boy? Well the only undead here was Yoongi… But Jimin wasn’t fond of him. Jimin could barely tolerate him, in the same way he could barely tolerate Jimin…. Right?

“Let’s just unpack the stuff,” Jimin said quickly. He turned to circle around the car, jerking Yoongi’s arm.

Yoongi glared, and Jimin winced. “Sorry. This is… Taking some getting used to.”

“Why don’t we take out the luggage,” Jungkook offered. He and Jin had come around behind Hoseok. “You two go relax.”

“When you pull out the cooler, I need to get a bag. I’m starving,” Yoongi said. He stepped up to Jimin and looked at him numbly. “You need to walk now too.” He tried to sound patronizing, but it came off as far more gentle than he intended.

Jimin obeyed, walking with Yoongi toward the cabin. Yoongi could feel him shiver, and scowled.

“You shouldn’t have worn shorts,” he scolded with no venom, pulling open the cabin door. “You knew it was snowy.”

“I didn’t figure I’d be outside much without Jungkook,” Jimin said, entering. He headed immediately toward the fireplace, once more yanking Yoongi, who’d stayed behind to shut the door. Yoongi hissed, baring his fangs.

“Would you stop that?!”

“I’m sorry!” Jimin snapped back. “This is an adjustment for us both. Stop yelling at me and learn to work with me, dammit.”

Yoongi smirked. That was the Jimin he knew better.

“Now,” Jimin continued before Yoongi could speak. “I’m cold. I want to go sit by the fire and warm up. Is that okay?”

“Fine.” Yoongi nodded. He walked with Jimin toward the fire, taking a seat on the ground with him. Jimin wrapped one arm around his knees, resting his chin on them. He let his other arm hang outward awkwardly, trying not to disturb Yoongi’s positioning.

Yoongi frowned. “You can put your arm down, it’s okay.” He tugged lightly as he spoke, setting his arm on his leg. Jimin let his arm drop to the ground. He continued to stare at the fire. Yoongi took the opportunity to look openly at the human. He really was quite striking; neatly sculpted brows and soft, plush lips, a gentle, sloping jawline that had just enough definition to trace. Light shadow and contour decorated his nearly flawless skin; Yoongi knew he spent quite a good chunk of time perfecting a casual makeup look despite not needing it. He must have touched up during their last rest stop. A simple earring – some dangling gold chain, sprinkled with tiny gems on each link. And – despite a two-day drive – smooth, perfect hair, shaggy enough to fall over his brows, but currently brushed back from Jimin’s own nervous twitch of carding his fingers through his locks. His throat was smooth – and Yoongi could trace the patterns of his strong veins and along the curve of his neck. How soft the skin looked behind his ear, how strong and dark that one particular vein looked…

Yoongi’s fangs poked his bottom lip, snapping him out of whatever fantasy he’d fallen into. He drew in a sharp breath and straightened up, drawing Jimin’s attention.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yoongi mumbled, covering his mouth.

“Something wrong? Do you feel sick?” Jimin paused. “Can vampires puke?”

“We can,” Yoongi mumbled. “But I don’t feel sick.”

“Oh.” Jimin gasped then. “Oh!”

“What’s that oh for,” Yoongi mocked, glaring over at him.

“Are you hungry? Your voice is muffled – your fangs. We should see if Jungkook has grabbed your cooler yet.”

Jimin rose into a crouch. “Come on.”

“You can’t go back out in shorts,” Yoongi argued, letting his hand drop. He saw Jimin’s gaze drop to his mouth, where his canines poked from his top lip. He had always hated his fangs – their size was almost comical in his small mouth. Jimin’s heartrate picked up.

“I’m not going to bite you.”

“I trust you. I’ve just never been so close when you’ve had them out,” Jimin confessed. “They’re… Big.”

“All the better to eat you with, as the big bad wolf would say.” Yoongi hissed, but Jimin only laughed.

“That’s our Jungkook. You’re a little less intimidating.”

“How is a vampire less intimidating than an overgrown puppy dog?” Yoongi asked, offended.

“Because you won’t hurt me. Jungkook could hurt me accidentally just jumping on me too hard when he gets excited. He forgets his own strength. You’ve had years to practice control.”

“How do you know I won’t hurt you? I eat your species.”

“You drink human blood. But I know damn well that doesn’t mean you eat or even hurt humans. You drink bagged blood.”

“Oh, do you think they had easily accessible bagged blood when I first turned? So, what, that I woke from my grave and trotted to the local monster shop and ordered a pint of A positive over a sundae? No. I woke up and I ripped out the throat of the nearest human I could find.”

“You were newly turned. You were ravenous. Nobody would blame a hungry bear for attacking.”

“Oh, so I’m nothing more than an animal to you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m on your side, Yoongi, when will you see that?”

“Do you know how to kill a vampire, Jimin?”

Jimin seemed to freeze at that, his lips parted just a bit. He looked over at Yoongi, who sat still, waiting.

“I—”

“Answer me honestly. Do you know how to kill a vampire?”

Jimin hung his head. “Yes, I do.”

“Not so easy, is it?” Yoongi pressed. “Not like the movies. A stake to the heart, sunlight. We don’t die easy, do we, Jimin?”

Jimin shifted, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. “It’s horrible,” he choked.

“Oh, is it? Have you seen it done?”

“Yes.”

“And did you have any part in it?”

Jimin looked over. “My father brought me hunting on my sixteenth birthday. It was his gift to me. He handed me a knife, and he told me that I was going to become a man.”

“I bet he did.” Yoongi looked away.

“She only looked about twenty,” Jimin continued, staring at the fire. “Gorgeous, honestly. Her eyes were big and dark, and her hair was long – it looked so soft. I was meant to be the bait. I was so scared, when I went up to her in the cafe. I grew up hearing the tales about how even the smell of a human could make a vampire go crazy. I thought for sure she’d try to rip my throat out.”

“What happened?” Yoongi asked. He looked over at Jimin. He wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew what happened. She died. And Jimin and his father killed her. Maybe a sick pleasure, knowing firsthand how brutal the human attached to his wrist was. Jimin continued to stare at the fire.

“She bought me a fucking soda. To this day, Cherry Coke makes me nauseous. She bought me a soda and she talked to me while I drank it. She offered to walk me home, because it was getting late. So, I let her. I figured now. Here is where she’ll try to rip my throat out. Dig her claws into me and show me her fangs and hurt me.”

“And did she?”

“No.” Jimin swallowed hard. “She walked me almost all the way home, polite as can be, when my father came up to us. She knew, I think. When she saw him – what he was. She looked so… Scared. She tried to run. Not attack – run.

I stepped between her and my father. I knew it was wrong, right then. But he shoved me down and told me I was a disappointment. That he’d give me one more chance. And then he caught her. She was fast but he… He had a bow. It was dipped in –”

“I know. A paralyzing agent.”

“Yeah. She went down and he caught her and dragged her back to me. She was pleading for her life. Swore she didn’t eat humans. He didn’t listen. He grabbed me and he dragged us both into the woods where he’d set up his work space. Tied her down to a bench… And told me to start cutting.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurched. He wanted to scream, to run, to strike. He looked over at Jimin, ready to snap a cruel comment, but froze. Jimin was still staring at the fire. But as Yoongi watched, he saw wet streaks running down Jimin’s cheek. He was crying.

“I told him no,” Jimin choked. “I told him I couldn’t. She wasn’t a danger. She was nice.” Jimin sniffled. “He hit me. And he shoved me against a tree. And he told me if I was too big of a pansy to do it, I could watch it.”

Jimin wiped his cheeks with his free hand. He sniffled again and looked over at Yoongi. “The night of my sixteenth birthday I watched him cut her to pieces with a knife. The sound of her flesh and muscles tearing still haunts me. I tried to stop him over and over, and all he did was push me back. Hit me. Tell me to man up. Remind me of how monstrous your kind is. And then he handed me the matches. To burn her body. I threw them into the woods and I ran.”

Jimin smiled weakly. “The fact that I couldn’t save Siyeon still haunts me.”

“What happened after?” Yoongi asked.

“I got a bus ticket to Seoul. And I found a nice couple that took me in. Let me finish school, gave me a space to hide. They were vampires, Yoongi. Ages sixteen and seventeen, I lived with vampires – and I thought of them as parents. A—” Jimin swallowed hard. “And then my actual parents found me. And I watched… Once more… The brutality of hunting your kind. And once again I couldn’t save them. I was too weak. But I disowned my parents at that very moment. I told them I supported vampires and I would never pick up a weapon against them. And that I wasn’t their son anymore. Oh… They thought I’d been turned, even tried to prove it. For two weeks they waited for my fangs to come out. And when they didn’t… They left me. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Yoongi remained silent, unsure how to respond. Part of him wanted to pop off with something smart and sassy – but he could feel the waves of emotion coming from Jimin. His story wasn’t a lie to gain sympathy. He believed what he was saying. So Yoongi said nothing.

Jimin looked over. Despite his eyes, red rimmed from the tears that streaked his cheeks, he was still stunning. “I’ve never told anybody the whole truth. Not even Jungkook knows.”

“Why?” Yoongi asked. His mouth had gone strangely dry.

“Because it’s not something I like to relive. It’s not something I want people to know. How weak I was. How helpless… To save them.”

“Hunters are brutal,” Yoongi said. He shrugged. “If you’d done more to interfere… Parents or not, I don’t know that you’d be here now.”

“Probably not. My father always said I was too weak to be his. So that’s my story, Yoongi. That’s why I’m here, living with Jin and Jungkook and you.”

“Why did you tell me? We aren’t friends. We aren’t even that close.”

“Well, for the next two weeks – maybe three – we’re literally stuck together. I know you hate me. And that’s fine, I get it. But I wanted you to know what really happened.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to respond when the door burst open. Jungkook entered, lugging the cooler that housed Yoongi’s meals for the next few weeks. “That snow is intense,” Jungkook commented, shaking the snow from his shaggy brown hair like cold dandruff.

“It is,” Jin agreed, lugging in a pile of bags. Hoseok followed after and kicked the door shut, his own arms full of bags.

“You three are gonna be out here at least three weeks based on this – it’s cold enough in these mountains that we don’t melt fast.”

“Will you have enough food?” Jin worried, looking at Yoongi. He nodded.

“The supply I gave you to put in there should last comfortably two and a half, and I can go without for about a week without losing my mind, so I’ll just space the bags out. Would you put it in the snow outside though? The ice is probably melted by now so you’ll wanna keep it cold. And I don’t think Hoseok wants gallons of blood in his fridge.”

“Rather not,” Hoseok agreed, padding past them into a bedroom with some of the bags. “So Jin will sleep with me, and I did have two rooms set up for you and Jimin, but seeing as you’re sharing,” he smirked at them from around the door, “Jungkook can take the extra room as needed.”

“Do you wanna get some?” Jimin asked. Yoongi looked away from the cooler and nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“Let’s go. Jungkook, hold on a sec,” Jimin called. He and Yoongi rose and headed over. Jungkook turned around, setting the cooler on the ground with a thud.

Yoongi crouched and opened it, scowling. Inside – rather than his pint bags of blood, floating in a pool of water, he saw nothing but vacuum sealed packages of… Meat.

“Jungkook…”

Yoongi reached in, pawing through the meat. Jimin crouched with him, reaching in as well.

“Jungkook, you didn’t—” Jimin whispered. Jungkook looked down. His eyes bulged.

“No—Oh no.” He sank down next to the others and began yanking the meat packages out. “No, no… Jin!” Jungkook whipped around. “You grabbed the wrong cooler!”

Jin turned from where he’d been talking with Hoseok, his smile slowly fading. “No – The red one. Yoongi said the blood was in the red one by the window.”

“The living room window, Jin,” Yoongi hissed.

“My meats – My dried and cured meats – they were in the other red cooler by the kitchen window,” Jungkook said, holding up one of the bags.

Jin’s smile disappeared completely. “Oh no,” he whispered. He looked at Yoongi. “We have to go back down.”

“You can’t,” Hoseok said, grabbing Jin’s arm. “Look at that snowfall. You’d wreck in a heartbeat.”

“He can’t go without food, Hobi,” Jin cried.

“I’ll be okay,” Yoongi said. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he would. The very thought of starving sent a chill down his spine. He knew what happened to vampires who were too deeply starved.

“I can head down the mountain,” he suggested.

“You’d freeze to death,” Jimin argued.

“I’m already dead.”

“You’d still never make it. Dead and immortal doesn’t make you immune to dying in other ways. And freezing solid and shattering is a pretty shitty way to go.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi said softly. “You know better than anyone…”

“We might not be up here three weeks. Maybe the snow will melt faster, and we can get you back to the city.”

“Can’t you eat an animal?” Hoseok offered. “Surely Jungkook could catch something—”

“I can’t drink animal blood. Old vampire myth to make us seem less scary. It makes us very sick. Monster blood is worse, so don’t get any ideas there either.”

“But you drink human blood,” Jimin said softly.

“From a bag.” Yoongi looked over as he spoke, his voice firm. He hated the way Jimin was looking at him. “I’m not even that hungry right now. Jungkook…” He looked to Jungkook, who looked close to tears himself. “I promise I won’t fight with Jimin. Would you please unhandcuff us?”

“Well that takes the fun out of it,” Jungkook pouted.

“Jungkook… You need to uncuff me from him.”

Jungkook scowled at that, looking between Jimin and Yoongi. “But—”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi strained. “I am a vampire. Who is in an isolated cabin with no food. Potentially for multiple weeks. You need to uncuff me from this human.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a little as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Oh God, of course. Right, hold on.” He scrambled to his feet and rushed to where his bags were, beginning to dig around in one. “Yoongi…” Jimin reached over, setting his free hand on Yoongi’s upper arm. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“Jimin—”

“I was going to offer anyways. You know… If you were hungry…”

“Don’t.”

The small smile that had been curving Jimin’s mouth disappeared immediately at Yoongi’s tone. Yoongi looked away, hating the way his heart did a little flip at the idea. Sinking his fangs into Jimin’s smooth neck… Tasting that sweet blood… Hearing Jimin’s breath pick up… Yoongi shook his head slightly to knock the image from his mind. He was supposed to hate the stupid human, not want to feed off him.

He hadn’t bitten a living human since he was turned. The shame he felt even now, after all these years, when he thought about what he did when he first turned… Once he was in his right mind he swore he’d rather die than feed from a living human. And he’d kept that promise to himself all these years. Easily, really. Even when blood was hard to come by – the simple thought of feeding on a person was enough to turn his stomach.

So then why did his mind keep drifting to Jimin? The way his veins painted delicate, abstract art on his neck… The sweet, rich scent of his life fluid just… There, right under the surface. The way it made Yoongi’s mouth water, his fangs slipping down, his own pulse – slow and lethargic most of the time – picking up like a horny schoolboy…

“Jungkook,” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook looked up from where he was digging in a second bag. His hair was plastered over his forehead, a look of desperation in his eyes.

“Still looking, it’s a small key. Give me just one more minute, no worries,” he said. Though, any monster in the room could hear his panic… There was a definite need to worry.

“What if we drove down slow?” Jin offered. “You and me could go, Yoongi. You won’t bite me, and even if you get… very hungry—”

Yoongi nodded. “That could work… But if the car gets stuck, you’ll die a hell of a lot faster than I will. It’d be safer for me to creep down on my own.”

“Except the the gas station on the way up the mountain will be closed and you’ll use far more than usual creeping. You’d be on empty long before you get to civilization,” Hoseok argued. “Not to mention, when you get around people again, then what? You eat the first one you see?”

“Hey!” Jimin’s sharp tone surprised Yoongi. He looked over.

“He’s not going to go feral.”

“Jimin…”

“You won’t. You guys keep talking like you have no food.” Jimin tilted his head a little, exposing his neck. “Hate me or not, I’m still a perfectly viable meal. And you can easily feed from me without hurting me. I know you can control yourself.”

“No.” Yoongi shook his head. “I won’t eat live meals.”

“You’re not eating me. You can just drink a little… Every few days, just enough to take the edge off.”

Yoongi scooted back as far as he could, his arm jerking forward with the cuffs. “Jungkook!” He snapped.

Jungkook made a small noise and flopped back on his butt. “I can’t find it.”

“Can’t find the key?!” Yoongi cried. He rose, grabbing Jimin’s wrist and lifting him up easily to drag him over. He sank down in front of Jungkook’s bags, beginning to dig through the piles.

“I’ve looked three times now,” Jungkook said softly, looking near tears. “I can’t find them. I—I must have lost it or left it at home or… Something.”

“Then we pick it!” Yoongi said. He looked to Jin and Hoseok. “Pick it for us.”

“I can’t pick locks,” Hoseok chuckled. “You have far too much faith in me.” “I could try,” Jin said, “but I’m not very good.”

“I don’t care. We have time.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin tried as Yoongi hauled him up once more, dragging him over to where Jin stood.

“Why aren’t you more panicked?” Yoongi asked, seeing Jimin looking incredibly calm… And a little sad.

“Because there isn’t a reason to panic.”

“You’re tied to a thing that fucking eats you.”

“Who I’ve already offered my neck to and he won’t bite. Literally. Yoongi, I’m not scared of you. I’ve said it once and it still stands. I would, however, like you to stop hauling me around like I’m luggage. I can walk. And while I enjoy being manhandled at times, we are both far too clothed for the type I enjoy.” Jimin tugged their cuffed wrists for emphasis.

A series of titters erupted from the other three in the room, and Yoongi scowled. “You crack jokes as if this isn’t serious.”

“Just lightening the mood.” Jimin shrugged.

“As if you’d be able to handle me in bed anyways. Or would want to.”

Jimin shrugged. “Says you.” He looked to Jin. “Wanna try to pick it?”

“Sure. Do you have something I can use, Hobi?”

“Lemme look.” Hoseok headed around the counter into the kitchen and began digging through the drawers.

“Go sit down,” Jin said. “It’ll be easier.”

Yoongi moved to walk, but stopped. He motioned for Jimin to lead the way, feeling a little guilty for dragging him around. It wasn’t his fault they were in this situation, after all. And yeah, Yoongi thought as he walked with Jimin and settled onto the couch with him, after learning the truth… Maybe he was beginning to feel some sympathy for the human. Not that they could ever realistically be friends. They couldn’t stand each other. Jimin was scared of him, or hated him… And he disliked the human. It was just how it was… Or how it should be. But maybe, now that Jimin had shared something with Yoongi about his history, they could at least become tolerant of one another.

Yoongi tried to pretend Jimin wasn’t sitting far too close to him. He wasn’t all that hungry. He’d gone about twelve days without food before, and it was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t feral. So, there was no real reason why he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than Jimin’s pulse. His infuriatingly slow pulse. How could someone so soft and breakable be so calm hanging off the arm of a predator? And so eager to offer his throat?

Jin came around with a handful of slender items. He crouched, grabbing the cuffs and beginning to try the different things. Brows furrowed, Yoongi could tell he was trying. But as the minutes passed, the pile of untried items grew smaller, and the pile of useless, bent, or broken items got larger and larger.

Jin sighed, picking up a steak knife – the last item in his pile. “There’s no way,” he said.

“Just try it,” Yoongi mumbled. He knew Jin was right, no way would a steak knife open the cuffs. Jin did as he said, jabbing at the hole in the cuffs, trying to get it to release. Nearly a minute of fiddling, and he finally sat back, shaking his head no. “I’m sorry guys, I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said. “You tried.”

Yoongi grabbed his cuff and yanked, grimacing when it tugged the skin of his hand. “Did you have to make it so tight?” He growled at Jungkook.

“I wanted to make sure you couldn’t pull it off,” Jungkook said. He came around the side of the couch, looking sheepish. “I know I have a spare key for it… It’s just in my room.”

“Well that won’t do any good up here!” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook flinched, his eyes widening a little.

Yoongi took a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s my fault. I deserve it.”

“No… You were trying to make us get along. It would have been funny, honestly, if things didn’t turn out like this,” Yoongi said. There is a final option… I just would like to not have to try it until things get… Bad.”

“What are you thinking of, Yoongi?” Jin asked, trepidation clear in his tone.

“Hoseok has a wood stove. A fireplace. Which means he has an axe.”

“No.” Both Jimin and Jungkook spoke in unison. “We’re not cutting any body parts off.”

“Well if I go feral and am still attached to Jimin, you’ll be doing a lot more than cutting off something. You’ll have to put me down.”

“You aren’t a dog!” Jimin cried. “If it gets to that point, we can just dislocate my thumb. It’ll hurt like a mother but the cuffs can come off. But you could prevent getting to that point if you’d just drink from me.”

“I will not let you hurt yourself for my sake,” Yoongi argued.

“Why not? You hate me, don’t you? A stupid hunter’s son.” Yoongi should have said yes. His brain told him that he should say yes. Yet the word wouldn’t come out. Instead, he just shook his head, looking down. “I just won’t let you,” he muttered.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Jin said. He rose, setting his hands on their shoulders. “Come on. This is a setback, but we’re still up here, let’s try to have a good time, right?”

Yoongi smiled softly, nodding. “You’re right. Hobi, how long until the lake freezes over completely do you think?”

“A day or two, why?”

“I know Jungkook’s been dying to take a swim in ice water. Mostly because he’s a lunatic. Want to?”

Hoseok grinned brightly. “I’d love to. You know me, never turn down water.”

“What about you?” Jin asked. He looked at Jimin. “He won’t have the same tolerance to cold…”

Yoongi glanced at Jimin, who’s smile - which had grown at the mention of a cold swim, was sinking.

“Yeah, maybe not, but I don’t much like the cold either. I’m sure I’ll be ready to be done when he is. We can still have fun. I won’t let you drown.”

Jimin looked at him, that sweet smile returning. He nodded. “Deal.”

Yoongi regretted that deal the second they hit the water. Not at any fault of Jimin’s, oh no. But more because Yoongi had forgotten just how much he hated the cold. He was shuddering nearly instantly. Jimin laughed brightly next to him, a high, tinkling sound on the cool wind. Yoongi looked over. Jimin was shivering just as hard as he was.

“This can’t be safe for humans,” Yoongi worried.

“A few minutes is fine. It’s good for the body,” Jimin assured him. “Can we go deeper? I wanna try to get to where Jungkook is.”

Yoongi looked across the lake. About fifteen feet ahead, closer to the center of the unfrozen part of the water, were their three friends. They’d jumped in as humans – but now Yoongi could see a wolf, a fox with many tails, and a seal, all bobbing along the water.

“We’ll try – but remember they are all furred animals. You may not make it that far.”

“I still wanna try.”

Yoongi nodded. He and Jimin set off carefully, their swimming motions needing to be perfectly aligned due to the cuffs. They made it nearly as far as Jungkook when Jimin whined softly. Yoongi glanced over, concern furrowing his brows. Jimin was shivering less, but his arms were covered in gooseflesh, and his lips were turning a startling shade of purple-blue.

“We need to go back,” Yoongi said.

Jimin nodded, not bothering to argue.

“Can you make it?”

“I c—can t-t-t-try,” Jimin chattered.

“Ah, you soft humans,” Yoongi teased with no real venom. He got them turned around. “Here, go over my head so you’re hooked around my shoulders.” He brought the hand with the cuff across his chest. Jimin moved his arm over Yoongi’s head, dropping it against his back.

“Good, try to help me paddle a bit with your free hand okay? And kick some.”

Jimin nodded. Yoongi could barely feel heat from his skin despite their closeness; a rather concerning feeling. He swam them back as quick as he could manage, Jimin doing his best to help. When they reached the ice patch, Yoongi moved to dislodge himself from Jimin’s arm. “Okay, get out.”

Jimin nodded. He braced his hands on the ice and hoisted himself out, spinning around and crouching as he helped Yoongi up and out.

Unfortunately – their wet skin on the ice did nothing in terms of support, and as soon as Yoongi was out of the water, a single step sent them both flying. Yoongi landed on top of Jimin, clearly knocking the breath from his chest. Snow that had puffed up around them in the fall now drifted down, speckling Jimin’s face like glitter. They laid nose to nose for a moment, Jimin’s eyes wide as he looked up at Yoongi.

“I—”

“Sorry,” Yoongi whispered, though he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not because of the ice… But mostly because Jimin felt so good under him.

“It’s okay,” Jimin breathed. His eyes darted down to Yoongi’s mouth, and Yoongi froze. Was he about to kiss him? He jerked back, panic bubbling up in his chest. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be okay with that idea. Carefully, he moved off Jimin and rose, helping Jimin to his feet. Jimin clung to him, shivering harder than ever.

They entered the cabin. “You should strip,” he said.

“S—” Jimin’s eyes bulged.

“As we melt we’re gonna soak the floor. And it’ll be easier to warm up if you’re in just a pair of dry pants than if you’re in soaking wet clothes.

“Right…” Jimin glanced down. “Shit.”

“What?”

“The cuffs. How am I gonna get my shirt off with the cuffs?”

Yoongi looked down as well. He swore under his breath, glaring in the general direction of the lake. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Jimin laughed a little. “Didn’t think that one through, did he?”

“Let’s get to the bathroom. We’re dripping.” Yoongi led him through the cabin into the bathroom. He guided Jimin into the tub. “Okay, so we could cut them off, but then we’d be shirtless for the next three weeks and I’d like to go outside at some point, so…”

“Yeah, no.” Jimin tapped his chin in thought. “What about just letting them hang over the cuff chain to dry? If we set a towel under them, squeeze them out as much as we can here, they should dry in front of the fire too, and we can put them back on?”

Yoongi thought for a moment, his eyes darting from Jimin to their cuffs as he tried to determine if it would succeed. Finally, he nodded. “I think that’ll work. Try it?”

Jimin nodded. He pulled his left arm free, apologizing softly when he tugged Yoongi over so his right hand could be used. Over the head, over his right arm, it dangled on the chain, as predicted, dripping into the tub.

“Perfect!” Jimin said.

Yoongi nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was nodding about though, as he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from Jimin’s bare chest. Though Jimin was slender, under his clothes he was very clearly hiding a lot. A toned chest and firm muscles, the cold water had tightened his dusky nipples to hard little points. His belly was slim, with the faint outlines of muscles that Yoongi knew were probably far tighter than a quick glance. And his hips – cut almost ridiculously perfect into a v shape, visible over the top of his waistband. Though he was clothed from the bottom down, Yoongi could imagine very clearly where that v pointed.

“Yoongi?” Jimin’s voice drew him out of his staring. He looked up, clearing his throat. “Right. Perfect. I’ll do mine.” Yoongi moved a little quicker, yanking his off and adding it to Jimin’s dangling from the chain. After seeing Jimin, he felt a little self-conscious. Though strong – it was all his inhuman nature; he was far less fit and chiseled than the human.

“We should wring them out now.” Yoongi grabbed his own shirt and began to ring it out, twisting it this way and that to get as much water out as he could. Jimin did the same, the water splashing between them like a mini waterfall.

“Great,” Jimin said when they could wring no more water from the shirts. He moved to step out, but Yoongi grabbed his wrist. “Shorts and shoes too – you’ll drip everywhere.”

“Oh—” Jimin hesitated, looking down and then up at Yoongi. “Uh… Naked?” He squeaked.

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi chuckled. “What, you shy about something?”

Jimin looked away, his cheeks pinking up delightfully. “Well, no, I just…”

Yoongi sighed and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. He turned away from Jimin as well as he could and hung it over his shoulder. “Here, just change and wrap it around your waist. I won’t look.”

He heard a shuffle and felt a tug on his wrist. He was distinctly aware of the fact that if he shifted his right hand at all he would likely be brushing against Jimin’s bare skin. His wrist was pulld again, and this time he felt a towel skim past his fingers.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Alright, I’m taking mine off now,” Yoongi said. He pulled his hand back, quickly tugging his shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his own waist.

“Okay, come on.” They stepped out of the bathtub and walked into the room where their bags had been dropped, the wet clothes dangling awkwardly between them. Yoongi let Jimin grab clothes first, looking away politely while he pulled on sweats. He pulled on his own sweats and handed Jimin their towels. Out into the living room, he grabbed a blanket from the chair as they settled onto the loveseat nearest to the fire. He slung the blanket over their shoulders.

“The wet—” Jimin began. “I know, here, just wrap them up with the towels.” They worked together with surprising efficiency to wrap the clothes. Jimin relaxed a bit, pressing closer to Yoongi to get further under the blanket as they sat.

Jimin’s body was warming quickly, radiating heat into his own normally barely lukewarm bones. It was… Comfortable, if Yoongi was being honest. Yoongi felt his head drooping, soothed by the sounds of the fire and the warmth. Jimin shifted, snuggling next to him and resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi quirked his brow, peeking around Jimin’s head. Sure enough, the human was sleeping. Yoongi smiled a little. Yeah, Jimin wasn’t so bad, maybe…

Yoongi was amazed at how much he could simultaneously adore and hate a singular person. If Jungkook hadn’t been a werewolf, Yoongi may have considered feeding on him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t have heard that right.” Yoongi repeated for the second time, staring at Jungkook in the dark bedroom. Jungkook pouted, his bottom lip sticking out and making him look far younger than his twenty-three years would imply.

“I said I’m bored.”

“And you proceeded to grab my dick.”

“Well, what better way to solve boredom?”

“Jungkook, we’re cuffed.”

“Which makes it less sexy how?”

Yoongi’s face remained stoic. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Jungkook. I’m still upset with you.”

“For what?!” Jungkook cried, seemingly offended that Yoongi would dare.

Yoongi blinked at him before lifting the cuffs, inadvertently dragging Jimin’s arm up and making Jungkook’s head hit the pillow where he’d been cuddling between the two of them. He gave it a shake.

“Also for losing the key. And for whatever other harebrained ideas you get while we’re up here.”

Jungkook’s pout returned full force. “Well fine. Your loss.”

“My loss?”

“Jimin will keep me company, right?” Jungkook turned to look at Jimin, his grin broadening.

“I—I can’t say no,” Jimin mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry Yoongi.”

Yoongi gaped at Jimin.

“So what, you two are just gonna fuck next to me? Could you be any more obscene?”

“Oh it’s not like you’ve not seen it before, you prude.”

“I haven’t! Not with Jimin.”

“Just go to sleep then.” Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Yoongi. He rolled over, facing away from Yoongi. A shift on the bed, and Yoongi heard the soft sounds of kissing. He scowled at them for a moment. He hated the way his stomach was making those nasty little knots, the way he wanted to reach out and card his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, pull him back from Jimin and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Hated the way he wanted to feel Jimin’s mouth too. Sink into his tight heat and find out if his moans were as pretty as his laugh. The days spent cuffed together had done a number on Yoongi. More and more he found himself enjoying Jimin’s company, laughing with him, conversing with him willingly. And more and more he found himself staring at him, wondering more about him, noticing his subtle (and obvious) beauty.

Yoongi shut his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of their kissing, the soft breathy sighs from them, and the shift of fabric as they moved together, slowly stripping.

It worked, for a while. Yoongi managed to remain feigning sleep (how could he actually sleep?) through Jungkook very clearly giving Jimin some amazing oral sex, and through Jungkook prepping Jimin’s soft body for sex. He even managed to feign sleep when Jungkook slid into Jimin, but felt Jimin’s hand grab his own for the briefest second, paired with a sharp, pleasured cry from the human.

But Yoongi’s strength only went so far. He could feel a stirring in his groin as the bed shifted rhythmically, hearing the slick sounds of their skin slapping together as Jungkook thrust into him, their muffled panting.

He opened his eyes the tiniest bit. They wouldn’t notice, not so caught up in their lovemaking. Jimin was covering his mouth with his free hand, muffling his soft whines as Jungkook thrust into him.

From his viewpoint, Yoongi could see Jimin’s hips bent up, his cock hard and leaking onto his belly. Jungkook reached up, pinching Jimin’s nipple and tugging. Jimin moaned, shoving his head back into the pillow and grabbing the sheet. “Jungkook—“ he whined, strained.

Jungkook glanced over, catching Yoongi’s gaze. Yoongi tried to shut his eyes, but knew it was too late. He glanced again, seeing Jungkook lean down. He was whispering, but Yoongi heard it clear as day.

“He’s watching us,” he whispered, “and you’re making him hard.”

Jimin looked over. Yoongi met his gaze openly, wetting his lips. Jungkook wasn’t wrong, his cock was hard in his sweats, pushing up the blanket a little. Yoongi reached down, palming himself as he watched Jungkook make love to Jimin. He could feel his fangs poking his bottom lip, and knew as soon as he spoke they’d be just as obvious as his erection.

“Want me to take care of that?” Jungkook teased. “Or maybe you wanna see if Jimin feels as good as you think he might, hm?”

Yoongi swallowed hard. “Ride me, Jungkook,” he demanded.

Jungkook smirked. He pulled out of Jimin, his cock slick with lube. He pushed the blanket down and tugged Yoongi’s sweats around his ankles. He licked his lips, staring at Yoongi’s dick.

“Come suck him with me, Jimin.”

Jimin obeyed, sitting and moving down. He and Jungkook set to work immediately, dragging a surprised shout out of Yoongi. Their mouths were everywhere, tongues sliding over his sensitive cock, sharing kisses. Jungkook leaned back to grab lube and Jimin took advantage. He sank down on Yoongi, swallowing his cock to the root. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, his tip bumping Jimin’s throat. Jimin swallowed, looking up at him. He began to suck and lick, bobbing his head slow.

Yoongi grabbed his head, his lips parted. He began to guide his head, unable to tear his gaze away from Jimin’s mouth, his perfect lips sliding over his cock like silk.

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Jungkook purred. He was fingering himself open, watching the two. “I don’t know how many times I’ve come just from his mouth when I didn’t plan to.”

Yoongi wanted to answer, but all that came out was an incoherent moan. He had had a lot of blowjobs in his time but none like this. He fisted Jimin’s hair, tugging to pull him off. Jimin obeyed, moaning happily. His eyes rolled back when Yoongi pulled, cock jerking between his muscular thighs.

“Jungkook—” Yoongi strained. He let go of Jimin before he hurt him, grunting when Jimin immediately began to nuzzle and kiss over his thighs and hip.

“Aw, are you that close?” Jungkook teased, pressing kisses along Yoongi’s jaw. Yoongi nodded.

“You sure you don’t wanna see what he feels like? He’s so tight, and warm, and wet inside…”

Yoongi whimpered, looking down at Jimin. He bared his fangs almost instinctively, the sound of Jimin’s blood pumping nearly overwhelming him. Jimin’s breath caught audibly. He crawled up Yoongi’s body, until they were nearly nose to nose.

“You can,” he whispered. He straddled Yoongi’s hips, settling onto his crotch until Yoongi’s cock bumped his hole. “If you want to… And…” Jimin touched Yoongi’s chin, pulling his bottom lip. “This too…” He bared his neck, leaning closer to Yoongi.

Panic bubbled up in Yoongi’s chest when he realized he’d moved forward, mouth opening instinctively. He snapped his jaws shut hard enough to hurt, piercing his own bottom lip with his fangs.

“Jimin—” He gritted. “Get off me.”

Jimin sat back, disappointment clear on his face. He obeyed though, slinking off Yoongi’s hips and laying next to him.

“Yoongi—” Jungkook began.

“Don’t.”

“We don’t have to stop,” Jungkook continued anyways. “Let me finish you off. Or you can watch Jimin and I—”

Embarrassed, shameful tears burned the back of Yoongi’s throat. He closed his eyes, trying to stave them off as long as possible. And he was cuffed – he couldn’t even escape this horribly awkward situation.

“Just go back to what you were doing. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he mumbled. He sat up and yanked his sweats up one handed before rolling to his side, facing away from the two. His cuffed arm twisted back uncomfortably, but he ignored it. He deserved a little discomfort… He nearly bit Jimin – and for what? A fucking orgasm. Nearly broke his vow with a moment of sex. Shame colored his cheeks as he glared at the door.

“Jungkook—” Jimin’s voice was barely above a breath.

“It’s not you,” Jungkook assured him. He had to know Yoongi could hear them. No way to prevent it – his headphones were in the other room.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know, baby. He’s just scared. He’s…” Jungkook drifted off. “He isn’t mad at you.”

“Do you still want me to…”

“Are you still in the mood?”

Jimin chuckled. “I can get into the mood again.”

“No.” Yoongi heard them kiss. “I’m not into it either. I feel bad. I pushed you guys into it. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Guilt clenched Yoongi’s heart. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Jimin’s either. It was Yoongi’s. He wished he had the nerve to roll back over, to apologize and tell them they were okay, but he couldn’t. So, he laid still, staring at the door as he listened to them pull on their shorts and cuddle, sharing quiet kisses as their breath evened out and they drifted to sleep.

They didn’t talk about it the next morning, or the morning after, or the day after that. In fact, Jungkook and Jimin didn’t bring up that night for the remainder of the week, or the following week. Yoongi was relieved, but also… A little stung. He had wondered if maybe they would want to talk about it, bring it up in some way so he could assure them that it was him, not them. Specifically, not Jimin. But, as the days progressed, it seemed like things were no different, and Yoongi let the situation slip to the back of his mind. He had more pressing things to worry about anyways.

Like, for example, the fact that the snow was showing no signs of melting enough for any sort of safe moving off the mountain. And the fact that it was now day thirteen without blood and he was feeling the effects of hunger. And the fact that Jimin was still stuck to his arm and he smelled so damn delicious that he was fighting the urge to show fang every ten minutes.

And to top it all off, Jin and Jungkook had decided this afternoon was the perfect time to go for a run in the woods. And Hoseok, in his own infinite wisdom, decided to go find a patch of thin ice for a swim in his own animal form. Which left Jimin and Yoongi entirely alone.

Which wouldn’t have been so bad, really. They often spent time just sitting on the couch together, reading or listening to music, talking or just sitting, watching the fire in comfortable silence. Even after the incident in bed the week prior, this feeling of ease and comfort didn’t fade. If anything, it continued to grow.

“I wish you could’ve gone out with them,” Jimin said softly, gazing into the fire. Yoongi glanced up from his notebook.

“Hm?”

“Jin and Jungkook. I’m sure you wanted to run with them.”

“Nah, it’s too cold for me,” Yoongi said. “I’d rather chill with the fire.”

Jimin chuckled. You don’t need to be lazy for my sake.”

“Not for your sake,” Yoongi assured him. “I really j—” A sharp pang in his stomach cut Yoongi’s words off. He doubled over, his fangs slipping out as he cried out.

Jimin reached for him, grabbing his hand that was cuffed together. “Yoongi—”

Yoongi turned, baring his fangs and hissing, nearly catlike.

Instead of shying away, Jimin’s face drooped. “Oh, it’s getting bad, isn’t it?” He asked.

Yoongi dropped his head again, drawing in a deep breath. He felt like he was sweating despite an inability to do that for many years.

“I’m fine,” he huffed.

“No, you’re not. You look sick. And I know you’re in pain. Please, I know you’re scared of hurting me, Yoongi but… Please.”

“It’s more than a fear of hurting you,” Yoongi muttered. He sat upright, closing his eyes for a second as he waited for the pain and nausea to fade. When it did, he drew in another breath and nodded.

“Then what is it, Yoongi? Please trust me to understand.”

Yoongi hesitated. He sat back on the couch, considering. Jimin had shared his story… Maybe it was time for Yoongi to do the same. If they were to be… Friends.

“I was turned about sixty years ago. I was twenty-eight. I don’t know… If you know much about how vampires are turned?”

“Not the details, but I know it’s a big process, death and burying and a whole ordeal.”

“It is. And generally, usually… The one who turns the new vampire stays around, it’s like giving birth to a child when all is said and done.”

Jimin nodded in understanding. Yoongi hesitated, another wave of nausea slipping over him. He remained silent until it passed before continuing.

“I did not have that grand bringing into the world. I never met the person that turned me.”

Yoongi heard Jimin make a small, sympathetic noise. Though he would have normally made a snarky comment, he had to admit, at that moment… It felt kind of nice.

“So, I crawled out of my grave one night… I was… God, I was so hungry. The last thing I remembered was being grabbed, and a pain in my throat. And then… Just dizziness and then darkness. I was so confused and scared and… So hungry. So thirsty.”

Yoongi shuddered despite the warmth, his stomach knotting painfully again. He curled his knees up, grimacing.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whispered. He shifted their hands, holding Yoongi’s tightly. “I’m here.”

“Oh, I know… You smell so… Fucking good, I can’t even pretend you aren’t,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin giggled a little at that.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Yoongi chuckled. The knots in his stomach released a little, allowing him to continue. “So I stumbled around the graveyard for a bit. I was looking for… Something, I didn’t know what at the time. And this young guy comes up. He was so handsome. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Dressed very poor. But he comes up to the gat of the graveyard and calls to me. I was so happy to see someone. Someone who could tell me what happened, or help me somehow. I ran up to him. I knew I must have looked horrid. I mean I just climbed out of my damn grave, but he barely blinked. He was instantly worried for me. Helped me find the entrance gate and started walking with me and checking on me as we headed toward the village for a doctor.

And then the hunger hit again. And it was so much stronger… God, it was like someone was hitting me in the face with every delicious food I’d ever eaten at once. My entire body and mind seemed to ignite. I couldn’t control myself. I can’t tell you exactly what I was thinking at that moment except feed.”

Yoongi hesitated once more. He swallowed hard, not due to his stomach, but due to the painful memories. Jimin moved closer to him, setting his other hand on Yoongi’s thigh. “I’m here,” he whispered again, his head nearly on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“I—I ripped his throat out, Jimin. God, I can still remember the sounds of him dying. The smells, the feeling of the blood and… The taste. The power. I was drunk on it.”

Yoongi paused as another wave of pain hit him, shivers running down his spine. “I came to my senses a few hours later. I was in the woods, covered in blood. Everything hit me then. What I was, what I did. I tried to kill myself. But it… It didn’t work. So instead I swore I’d never place my teeth on another living human. I didn’t care if I starved to death. I’d lock myself up in a cave and wait to die if the only other option was biting a person. Risking doing what I did to that boy… I have kept that vow for sixty years, Jimin. That’s why I won’t bite you.”

“I understand,” Jimin said softly. “I do. What you went through was traumatic. But Yoongi… You don’t have the option of locking yourself up in a cave right now.”

Yoongi closed his eyes. “I know.”

“So if you do reach that point… You will kill me.”

Yoongi grimaced. Jimin squeezed his hand tighter. “I would rather have you drink some now… When you can control yourself. When you can take care of me… When we can both feel good maybe… Than die that way. Because I know you’ll hate yourself afterward.”

“I’ll hate myself either way,” Yoongi whispered.

“Fine. But at least I’ll be around to help you let go of that hate this way. And so will Jungkook.” Jimin’s lips brushed over Yoongi’s cheek. “I keep thinking about last week. How good I felt on your lap… How nice it felt to see you relax. I am sorry I offered my neck, and not just my body… But I am offering both again.”

Yoongi looked over quickly. Jimin smiled softly. “Yoongi, please let me help you.”

“Help me?” Yoongi breathed. He could hear Jimin’s heartbeat, and smell his arousal. He chuckled. “You’re propositioning a hungry vampire to have sex with you.”

“I am. I’ve heard it makes the bite feel better. Do you… Want me? That night, I wasn’t sure. I felt like we pushed…”

“No, no, I wanted you that night.” Yoongi pressed his forehead against Jimin’s. “I still do. I don’t know what changed, I—I can’t stop thinking about you these days.”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Yoongi,” Jimin confessed. “But you hated me for my parents…”

“I was wrong.”

“No. You just didn’t know. Now you do.”

“And I do like you. I… God, I fell for you.”

Jimin pulled back this time, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “You did?”

“I did,” Yoongi muttered. “Don’t let it go to your head.

“I won’t.” The two sat in silence. Yoongi’s shudders were coming more regularly, his body edging closer and closer to starvation, rather than hunger.

“Yoongi,” Jimin finally whispered. “Please take me to bed.”

Yoongi’s breath puffed out of his lungs. He nodded. Jimin rose and Yoongi let himself be pulled toward the bedroom. They were so used to the cuffs now that they moved as a unit, knowing how to twist and turn to move fluidly. It would be weird to have them off, Yoongi realized.

Once in the bedroom, Jimin turned, pulling his shirt off. He let it dangle from the chain and smiled shyly. “Do you… Want me to…”

“No,” Yoongi pulled his own shirt off. He stepped forward, going almost chest to chest with Jimin. “The last time we stripped… You made me look away when you took off your jeans… You gonna be shy on me again?”

Jimin laughed. “Not this time.”

“Good.” Yoongi undid Jimin’s jeans, pushing them to the ground for Jimin to step out of. He kicked his own sweats off, and then his boxers, before setting his hands on Jimin’s hips. He caught the band of his boxers. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

Yoongi pushed them down, stepping back to look Jimin up and down. He reached out with his free hand, palming Jimin’s cock. It twitched and hardened further in his palm, and he gave it a firm stroke. “I didn’t get a good look at you that night… I’m glad to now.”

“Like what you see?” Jimin asked. Yoongi nodded slowly. He let go of Jimin to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss, despite the fire raging in his veins. Jimin wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding onto his wrist with the cuffed hand. They moved toward the bed in unison, and Jimin let himself fall back onto it. Yoongi went with him, nudging open his smooth thighs.

Jimin looked up at him, his lips wet and full from the kiss, his cheeks rosy with life. His eyes were dark, hair brushed back from his forehead.

“How do you—” Jimin swallowed. “Now? Or…” He touched his neck.

“Not quite yet,” Yoongi said. He reached over to where he knew Jungkook had stashed the lube, pulling the bottle out and opening it.

The two shared soft kisses while Yoongi prepped Jimin, determined not to hurt him any more than necessary. None – if he could have his way. He could smell Jimin’s blood so strongly, his teeth aching like a sweet tooth, mouth watering as they kissed. And Jimin – oh, the creature under him couldn’t be a human – Jimin had to be an imp. Playing with fire, Jimin would scrape his tongue over Yoongi’s fangs, sometimes almost hard enough to draw blood. Each time he did, his cock would jerk against Yoongi’s hip, and Yoongi would have to refrain from giving in and biting Jimin then and there.

He resisted by some miracle, however, and pulled back, lining himself up to Jimin’s body. “Are you ready?”

Jimin nodded, spreading his legs wider. Yoongi laid over him, bracing himself on the hand that was cuffed. Jimin twined their fingers together, meeting Yoongi’s gaze as Yoongi pushed into him for the first time.

Jimin’s lips parted, a sharp gasp breaking the silence of the room. Yoongi bared his fangs, his own vision going a little hazy at the tight heat of Jimin’s body.

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice was soft, muffled. Yoongi forced himself to focus, offering what he hoped was a comforting smile – though he knew the fangs probably made that difficult.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

“I know. It feels good,” Jimin assured him. He reached his free hand down, gripping Yoongi’s ass. “You can move. I want this.”

Yoongi nodded. He began to thrust at an even pace, mindful of not going too hard. Jimin moaned under him, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. Curious, Yoongi reached out, pinching his left nipple. Jimin shouted, gasping.

“Please—“

“Oh, you are sensitive,” Yoongi teased. “And responsive.”

He pinched again, this time tugging. Jimin shouted, squeezing Yoongi’s cock almost painfully tight. Yoongi continued to thrust, leaning down to gently suck and bite at each hard nub. As he did, he fisted Jimin’s cock, using his ample precome to jerk him in time to his own movements.

He was already so close, he wished it could last longer. He wanted to stay like this, hear Jimin’s sounds of pleasure, for eternity. He moved back up, nuzzling Jimin’s neck.

Jimin’s breath caught, his throat clicking. He let his head fall, baring his neck to Yoongi.

“Yes—“ He whispered. “Please, Yoongi… Do it…”

Yoongi pulled his cock free of Jimin’s hole, chuckling when Jimin whined.

“Don’t stop, please—“

Yoongi began to tease him, prodding and bumping his opening with his tip. Not enough to get any real stimulation, but feeling Jimin’s body open for him, so receptive - and the sounds of his voice as he begged for it… If Yoongi didn’t have other plans he may have come then and there.

He lined himself back up and nuzzled Jimin’s neck once more. A moment to steady himself, and then…

His teeth penetrated Jimin’s soft neck at the same moment he drove himself into Jimin’s body once more.

Jimin screamed, his free hand rising and scratching down Yoongi’s back. He began to pump his hips quickly, swallowing the sweet, hot blood that filled his mouth as he sucked. He ran his tongue over the puncture wounds, his saliva working to clot and slow the blood already so Jimin wouldn’t bleed too much.

Jimin’s entire body jerked, nearly dislodging his mouth. His release spilled, hot and sticky, between their stomachs as he moaned against Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Jesus— Yoongi!” Jungkook’s voice startled Yoongi. He felt Jungkook’s hand on the back of his neck, so he released, afraid he’d drunk too much. But Jimin was grinning brightly, looking all too fucked out.

“Hey Jungkook,” he signed, moaning softly when Yoongi thrust in.

Jungkook looked between the two, letting go of Yoongi’s neck.

“Oh.”

“Sorry we didn’t wait for you,” Jimin teased. “You should join us now.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, smiling softly. “I think I will.” He began to strip, grabbing the lube to ready himself.

Yoongi looked back down at Jimin, leaning down to lick a stray dribble of blood on his neck. He thrust in, and Jimin winced. He pushed Yoongi’s chest.

“Too sensitive after I come,” he whined. “Finish with Jungkook. Oh—“ He laughed into Yoongi’s mouth when Yoongi kissed him hard, gently pulling out. He flopped next to him, still holding his hand.

Jungkook straddled his hips, dick hard. He lifted Yoongi’s cock and settled onto it, both of them gasping. He began to ride him almost immediately, leaning down to kiss them both.

Jimin sat up, shifting over to begin sucking Jungkook’s cock as he moved, the soft wet noises punctuating the rougher ones.

Yoongi’s eyes went fuzzy as he watched the two, his toes curling against the mattress.

“I’m close,” he warned Jungkook, who only nodded. His fingers were buried in Jimin’s hair, guiding him along his length.

Jimin coughed and Jungkook grunted, his body shuddering and beginning to clench and relax - a sure sign of his release… Directly down Jimin’s eager throat if the soft gulping was any indication.

Yoongi moaned softly. The pressure around his cock and the absolutely stunning image in front of him became too much far too quickly. With a deep grunt, and a firm hand on Jungkook’s hip to hold him still, Yoongi came, spilling inside Jungkook.

The three ended up in a haphazard cuddle pile as they all came down from their climaxes. Though Yoongi was sure he’d taken less than a pint from Jimin, but he still felt calm and full and strangely sated. Maybe it was due to feeding live. But maybe it was due to the two men snuggled up against his body, warming him from the outside in.

“Any regrets?” Jimin asked sleepily, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“None. You okay?”

“I feel great. How often do you need to feed?”

“Just every few days. I won’t need much, just enough to take the edge off… I don’t want to force you—”

“Shh,” Jimin kissed his mouth to silence him. “I’m offering. You already look better. I want to help. I told you things wouldn’t be like they were sixty years ago.”

Yoongi nodded. “Thank you.” He sighed softly, looking between the two. “I have a question for both of you.”

When they looked up, he smiled. “Jungkook – you mentioned… Changing your relationship with us. And that… I believe… Implied dating.”

Jungkook nodded.

“Do you still feel that way?”

Another nod. “Of course I do.”

“Then… I think now is a good time for me to formally ask you… Both of you… If you’d like to make this situation an official one.”

Jimin made a small noise that was a cross between an ‘oh’ and a giggle. “Are you asking out the vampire hunter’s son, Yoongi?”

Yoongi smirked. “Guess I like to live on the wild side. It’s only fair after I’ve had my teeth in your neck.”

Jimin laughed brightly, nuzzling against Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi glanced at Jungkook, noticing he’d remained silent.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook smiled softly. He met Yoongi’s gaze. “I never expected… When I cuffed you two together, I didn’t expect things to actually work out.”

“Are you okay with how it did?” Yoongi confirmed.

“You really do care for Jimin? This isn’t some effect of drinking his blood or… Or sex or… For peace in the apartment?”

Yoongi chuckled. He nodded. “I mean, it’ll be nice to have peace in the apartment, but no… And we aren’t affected by blood drinking or anything like that, it’s just like sitting down and having a good steak – No offense.”

“None taken,” Jimin answered.

“So, yeah, I… I’ve really developed a fondness for Jimin over these few weeks. Spending more time with him, learning to work together. I don’t know if it’s love but it’s… Definitely more than tolerance. I do care for him a great deal. Just like you.”

“Were you not wanting this, Jungkook?” Jimin worried. “Like… I know you want me and you want Yoongi, but us… Together.”

“It’s not that.” Jungkook sat up. “I do. This is a dream, all three of us together. I just didn’t expect it. To be honest, I… I keep expecting to wake up.” He looked to Yoongi. “You really don’t hate Jimin?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think I ever did. I was blaming him for his parents, for hunters who have killed my friends over the years… He was the face of it.” Yoongi paused, brows furrowed as he thought. “But he’s been just as much a victim to vampire hunters as anyone else. Has still been hurt and traumatized by them, in a different way, but… It’s there. I was just too stubborn to hear that until these weeks. And I regret that. Because getting to know the real Jimin these past few weeks has been so fun. I just hope that I can keep learning more about him.”

“And you don’t… Resent him, Jimin? For all that he’s said to you?”

“Not even a little. I wish he’d given me a chance earlier – but I understand fully why he didn’t. And I don’t blame him. I can’t say I would have either, in his shoes. And I’m glad that we’ve gotten over that bump and can move forward with our friendship and… Relationship.”

Jungkook seemed to relax a little, a small smile crossing his face as he looked at the two.

“So, what do you say, Jungkook?” Yoongi pressed. “Is this— Are the three of us… Okay?”

Jungkook remained silent a moment, looking between the two. He nodded then. “You two make a cute couple.”

“And we three will make an adorable throuple,” Jimin said. Jungkook’s soft smile widened then, crinkling his nose and exposing his front teeth.

“We will, won’t we?”

Yoongi grabbed for Jungkook with his free hand, pulling him down into a kiss. After, he turned, kissing Jimin gently. “Amazing how comfortable that feels,” he commented.

“Guess we shoulda been doing it this whole time,” Jimin said.

Yoongi nodded, kissing him once more. “I guess so. We’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

“What a trio we are,” Jungkook said. “A vampire, a human, and a werewolf.”

“Unique and fun, I’d call it.”

“You know,” Jungkook said, nuzzling against Yoongi’s neck. “I’d like to point out that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t thought to cuff you two together.”

Jimin snorted, but Yoongi chuckled. “You’re not wrong… I’m gonna kinda miss being cuffed to you when we get home, Jimin.”

Jimin grinned broadly. “It’s okay, I know you like holding my hand is all. I promise to hold it all the time, even if we’re not joined at the wrist.” He shifted, taking Yoongi’s hand and twining their fingers.

“Only if Jungkook holds my other hand,” Yoongi said, holding his free hand out. Jungkook grinned brightly and grabbed it, lacing his fingers between Yoongi’s before letting it rest on his stomach.

Yoongi closed his eyes, sighing softly. He could hear the steady, firm heartbeats of his boyfriends, and smell their comforting scents. The taste of Jimin’s blood was still present on his tongue, but it didn’t frighten him in the way the thought of it had. It felt safe. He felt safe. Even as a vampire – deadly and near unkillable – there had always been something missing in Yoongi’s world. Something that made him feel exposed, and scared, in a way even he couldn’t pinpoint.

And now, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel that fear. Instead he felt warmth. And he felt happiness. And he’d spend the rest of his time on earth protecting that happiness, no matter what.

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said.

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt.

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush.

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day.

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things.

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again.

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table.

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.”

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?”

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.”

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.”

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.”

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger.

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend.

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left.

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded.

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.”

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?”

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet.

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.”

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers.

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up.

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet.

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work.

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly.

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said.

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister.

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.”

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice.

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?”

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?”

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face.

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?”

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.”

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart.

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve.

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth.

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide.

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household.

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said.

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.”

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.”

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window.

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!”

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said.

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.”

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship.

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be.

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself.

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights.

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages.

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid.

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.”

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?”

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.”

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess.

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in.

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate.

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie.

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full.

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?”

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.”

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her.

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things.

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him.

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question.

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again.

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy.

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?”

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place.

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared.

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb.

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning.

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away.

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course.

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine.

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted.

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist.

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite.

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs.

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide.

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner.

“Jamie Taylor?”

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her.

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different.

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment.

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away.

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware.

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met.

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable.

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress.

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself.

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring.

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin.

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed.

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked.

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled.

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake.

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning.

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?”

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away.

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed.

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned.

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified.

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively.

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all.

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton/jamie #bring home a haunting #dani clayton #jamie taylor #cfau #roman writes #FINALLY

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dragon-fics · 3 years

Text

DOS: A Princely Predicament (Male Human x Dragon/Reader)

Chapter summary: For years the only interaction you hade with humans was pillaging their villages. So when a king comes to you with a scheme on how to kidnap what would later turn out to be your greatest treasure.

F/C = Favourite colour

* = means (my) father

I hated humans. I just hated them. You could hide your quiet, solitary self, high in a mountain, away from all the drama of the world and somehow one would still scurry its way up to jab at you with its tiny metal handheld spike.

And the worst ones were the ones that dreamt of greatness and glory, and killing a great dragon such as myself seemed to be the most popular way of doing it. Obviously, none of them had succeeded.

So, when this visitor arrived, let’s just say I almost bit his head off before he had even spoken. But I’m glad I didn’t; I got some fine treasure out of it.

“You want me to do what?” I spat, peering down at the king who stood in front of me.

He held his pale face calmly, staying stoic and proud. “To kidnap Prince Lansa and keep him here until I send someone to fetch him,” King Darius said. He and King Alo were rivals. And from what I understood, Darius was desperate for an alliance. But he hated doing things civilly, so he figured that this way was the most convenient way.

“And what’s in it for me?” I hissed, flicking out my tongue.

Darius smirked, scratching his black beard. “Why, treasure of course.” He threw his hand back to a knight stood at the mouth of my cave. He led forward a horse-drawn carriage, piled up with gems and gold. The treasure caught the morning light beautifully.

A grin caught my face. So much treasure for babysitting a prince? I almost laughed at the thought.

“And there’ll be more when you capture the prince, and much more will be given once I send someone to pick him up—for the inconvenience.” He grinned. A few of his knights glanced at each other. “So, do we have a deal, (Y/N)?”

I looked up, focusing on the sky outside. The dripping of water from the man-made pond in the other room filled the silence. Darius stayed completely still and silent. “Very well,” I said finally. “We have a deal.”

He offered his hand to shake. I offered him a claw and shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Darius.”

*~*~*~*

“Let go of me! You foul beast!” Prince Lansa yelled. He wriggled in my front talons, punching my claws.

I chuckled and flew higher. “I’m not going to do that, Princess. You’re much too valuable to let drop.”

Lansa groaned, irritated. “I am not a princess. I am a prince.”

I snorted amusingly. “I’m well aware, Lansa.” I looked ahead at the twinkling stars and the spire that pierced the clouds. The spire that was my home. I flapped my wings harder, putting on a burst of speed.

“What do you want me for?” he demanded, hitting my claws again. I felt something tickle my digits.

I chuckled. “Magic will not free you, Princess.”

Lansa scoffed and held himself still. “Well, what are you going to do with me?”

I smirked. “Eat you, of course. After a good game of cat and mouse, or rather, dragon and human.”

He flinched in my hold and looked down. “Wonderful,” he murmured.

I soared towards my cave, seeing its opening and landing just in front of it, by the smooth, round pillars, holding my wings out for balance as I teetered on my rear legs. I placed Lansa on the ground.

He stumbled forward, gathering his balance. I looked down at him in his red evening suit. I picked up a torch on the ground and blew a plume of fire onto the tar at one end, its warm light illuminating his face as he stared up at me in quiet awe. He had several gold pieces and gems embedded in his ears, a delicate gold chain and ruby around his neck, and bands of gold and silver around almost every digit.

I would hate to admit it, but he had quite a handsome, pointed face with light brown skin and long, dark hair in a long plait.

“What?” Lansa spat, noticing my face. “I thought you said you were going to eat me.”

I cocked a brow. “Well, I lied.” I picked him up by the back of his clothes.

“Hey! My garments are very expensive!” he yelled, throwing his hands all over the place.

I growled and walked on the smooth, straight-line cracked floor. I walked passed the stone, seated human in its chair. Its shattered head lay in rubble by its feet. I hit one of the bigger pieces with my tail, shattering it into smaller pieces.

“How dare you?!” Lansa seethed. “Broella did not give you life just so you could smash her head into such small pieces no one would ever recognise her!”

“I washn’t aware see wash shomeome speshial,” I said between clenched teeth.

“This entire temple is littered with paintings and statues of her. How could you not know about the most important deity to ever exist!” he lectured, crossing his weak rope arms.

I hummed and ignored him, making my way to the back of this so-called temple. In the centre was a man-made pool of water with some other human standing with a bucket of water. Once upon a time, water flowed from the bucket in some magical way, but it no longer did. Surrounding the stone pond were piles upon piles of gold and gems and my soft bed made of goat, sheep and oxen hides.

I dropped Lansa on the hides and pinned him down with my rear leg. He uttered a sound of mild discomfort. “Don’t even think of moving.”

He scoffed and rested his head in his hands.

I rolled my eyes and put down my torch in a stand, rummaging around in a pile of gold, remembering what I’d robbed from a town a few years ago. They had kept a fire phoenix in a cage, so naturally I took the cage and released the fiery bird. The cage itself was silver—whether it was actually silver was another thing—and embedded with gems. So, I kept it.

Finally, I pulled it out from beneath its pile of gold. I shook it, getting rid of any loose coins and gems. I placed it on the ground with a clang. Opening the wire door, lifted my paw from Lansa.

He pushed himself to his tiny feet. “You must be joking,” he said in a flat, yet irritated tone. He scowled at me. The cage was just big enough for him to stand and lie in comfortably.

“In. Now.” I growled, slamming a paw down onto the floor beside him.

“What do you actually want with me?” Lansa said with a penetrating gaze.

“Does it matter?” I lowered my head to get a better look at him.

His brown eyes stared deep into mine. He lifted his suspicious look. “You have beautiful eyes,” he commented.

I raised my head, baffled.

Lansa looked at the cage. “I suppose not. Either way, I’ll either end up dead or you’ll trade me for treasure or a feast,” he answered. He stepped into the cage. “But if I’m expected to stay here, I wish for some pillows and some blankets.”

I peered down at him, closing the door with a soft clatter. “And what happens if I don’t provide things for your comfort?”

He smirked. “I can be very aggravating. Plus, I’ve got magic.”

I barked a laugh, making him jump. “Magic? I’d hardly even say you’re capable of a simple card trick.”

Lansa scoffed, clearly offended. “I promise you; I can be very aggravating.”

Continuing to laugh, I walked away. I went over to my bed of hides. I picked up a bundle of sheep’s wool, a deer hide, a blanket and a cushion, all from raids. Opening the door, I tossed in the soft belongings.

“There,” I said, shutting it. I lay down on my bed, yawning widely.

Lansa got to work quickly. I observed him. Placing the wool down first, he made a mattress. He draped the deer hide over the wool and then set up the cushion and blanket on top. He removed his jacket and lay beneath the blanket, dozing off quickly.

I waited a few moments before coming closer to his cage and lifting it up. I studied him for a moment and hung him from the chandelier high above my bed. As I smothered the light, my eyelids grew heavy, and I dozed off.

*~*~*~*

“Get. Me. Down. From heeeeere!” Lansa bellowed.

I cracked open my eyes with a groan. “Shut up!” I groaned, reaching for a piece of gold. I launched it at him, eyes closed, and missed.

He groaned. “Well, I need to get out of this cage!” he whined urgently.

I lifted my head groggily. “And why exactly to you need to leave the cage?” I asked. I yawned and stretched out my wings.

Lansa sighed. “I have an urgent need,” he mumbled.

I forced myself to my feet, exasperated. I looked at him. He was holding his paws over the fork of his legs, his knees together. I sighed and lowered the cage onto the ground. I opened the door. “Just remember that I’m faster,” I warned.

He jogged out of the room to the entrance of the temple. I plodded after him, stretching my legs. Settling in front of the giant statue of the deity Lansa had lectured me on yesterday, I looked at its robes and narrow figure. I stared at it for a long time, unsure why exactly he had taken so much offense to the rock being broken.

“So now you take an interest, dragon,” Lansa said, emerging through the entrance.

“(Y/N),” I corrected. “That is my name.”

He echoed it quietly and stopped by my talons. “I’ll remember that.”

I hummed. “Who is she?” I asked.

“That is Broella,” Lansa said, “the Goddess of Life. She created the world and everything in it. She is the mother of all gods.”

“Huh,” I said, looking down at him.

He looked up at me with another penetrating gaze. “How do you know my name?”

I looked back at the pale stone statue. “I’ve been watching you for a while.” That was partially true.

“And why have you been watching?” he asked apprehensively.

“Because,” I started, “you’re handsome.” That too was only partially a lie.

Lansa looked away from me. “So, is that why you kidnapped me? To make me your…?” he trailed off, uncomfortable.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He looked away. “Wonderful,” he sighed.

I hit him with the end of my tail. “Right. Back into your cage, I have things to do.”

Lansa yelped, stumbling forward. “Ow! Alright. Alright.” He walked back to my hoardroom with me. I locked him back into his cage and left the temple, keeping an eye out for Darius.

*~*~*~*

There had been no sign of Darius all day.

I snorted, frustrated, as I walked into the dark temple. I spared the statue of Broella a glance and walked through to my hoardroom. Lansa was sitting on my bed of hides, reading a book with an orb of yellow light hovering above his open palm. It surprised me he hadn’t just left.

“Still here?” I called, lighting the tar torch and placing it in a stand by the hides.

He shrugged. “Did you bring something to eat?”

I snorted, amused. “You ate last night.”

“But I’m staaarving!” Lansa whined. He was already aggravating, and I’d only spent a few spare moments with him.

“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll get you a rabbit or something.”

He rushed to his feet. “Can I come with you?”

“Fine. But don’t make a sound.” I was willing to do anything not to risk hearing him whine and moan.

Lansa grinned and went for my leg. He gripped my shoulder, and I tossed him back. “What… are you doing?”

He held his hand to his head. “I was trying to get onto your back.”

“And why would you do that?”

Lansa got to his feet. “How else was I going to keep up with you?”

I sighed. How did this tiny thing with needle-like limbs think of everything? “Alright. But no poking or kicking or anything like that. It is a privilege to ride a dragon, Princess.” I raised my nose.

He huffed. “I promise I won’t poke or kick you.”

I nodded, bending my leg for him to clamber up onto my back.

Lansa got up quickly and settled into the spot between my shoulders and neck. “Alright, let’s go.”

Scoffing, I walked out of the temple. I treaded along the path I had made for myself, staying low to the ground. I avoided low-hanging branches and other obstacles for Lansa. It made me feel ridiculous.

Finally, I glimpsed some movement along the trees. “Off,” I whispered.

Lansa slid off my back without a moment’s hesitation, and I pounced on the movement. A rabbit landed between my claws. I swiftly cut its throat and picked it up. “On,” I ordered. He got onto my back, and I walked back to the temple.

“That was quick,” Lansa commented. “Did your parents teach you to hunt?”

“Yesh,” I responded, entering the temple, my jaws clamped shut. I stopped in the hoardroom and dropped the rabbit on the floor.

Lansa slid off my back and looked at it. “Can you cook it?”

I eyed him. “Cook it?”

“Yes,” he said. “Humans can’t eat meat raw.”

I sighed and blew a plume of flames onto the rabbit. Its skin and fur were burnt away, leaving bare, smoked brown rabbit meat. “There,” I said, walking over to my bed.

Lansa picked up the cooked rabbit and scrambled after me. He sat opposite me on the animal hides. He graciously ate the rabbit. You’d know he was a prince.

“Is it to your standard?” I asked, not truly caring if it was.

He nodded, taking another bite. “Yes. Thank you,” he responded after swallowing.

I looked out of the room, towards the statue’s room. “Of course. Can’t let my Princess have food that’s not up to his liking.”

*~*~*~*

It took two weeks before Darius showed up. And unfortunately, Lansa had grown on me. A lot.

It was ridiculous; I know. But I had developed a bit of a crush on him. He taught me a lot about the statues at the temple; he read to me most nights, and he really enjoyed flying, making him an excellent company.

And I’d rather not bring up about how often I thought about him when I was away. I wondered if he was alright, whether some nasty pest might hurt him, or if Darius had sent his knight and snuck past me. At this point in time, I was honestly questioning whether I was going to let Darius take him away.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Lansa said, touching my foreleg.

I stilled at his touch, coming out of my thoughts. “Princess,” I responded, looking down at him.

He looked up at me. “Are you ok? You’ve been out here for a while. Just… sitting.”

I looked back out at the rising sun. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Thinking? Since when do you think?”

I snorted and hit him with my tail.

“Ow!” he hissed. “Okay, sorry.” He rubbed his lower back. “So, what were you thinking about?”

I hummed, wondering if I should be honest. I drew in a breath. “Lansa,” I started.

He tapped my leg, interrupting me. “Eh, (Y/N), who’s that?” he pointed to the rocky trail that led to the base of the mountain.

I followed his gaze. It was Darius, making his way up with three wagons filled with gold and seven knights. I stood up and spread my wings. I tightened my jaw. Add to my piles of gold or protect Lansa? That was what was running through my mind.

Finally, I said, “Get on my back.”

Lansa looked from me to the king and his knights. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get on my back.” I bent my leg for him to get on.

He glanced at the group getting closer and climbed up onto me. As soon as he was settled, I leaped up into the sky, my wings catching the wind. Lansa gripped my neck as I rose into the sky. Behind me, I heard king Darius yell and swear at me.

Finally, I levelled out over the clouds. Water droplets clung to my scales as I skimmed the clouds. Lansa sat up and looked around. He admired the view before looking at my head.

“(Y/N)? Who were those people?”

I faltered, my wings beating irregularly. “That was King Darius,” I replied, ashamed.

“And why was he coming up to you? And how did he know your name?”

“Because… I made a deal with him,” I sighed. I looked up at the horizon, where the sea of clouds met the bright blue sky.

“What sort of a deal?” Lansa asked suspiciously, leaning over my shoulder, trying to catch my eye.

I stayed silent, unable to respond. We had gotten so close; I couldn’t let that fall apart now.

Lansa sighed, exasperated. “What. Sort of deal. Did you make. With Darius, (Y/N)?” he said, his patience waning.

I looked at the rolling cloud beneath me. “I made a deal… to kidnap you, and guard you. In exchange for treasure,” I admitted, my head dipping sombrely.

He took a moment, cooling off before he spoke. I could tell it outraged him with how his heels dug into my shoulders and his finger clenched my spike. He drew in a large breath and looked up, his face still and regal as his limbs relaxed. “So why did you fly away with me?”

I raised my head. “Because…” I took in a breath, mustering up every bit of courage I had. “Because you mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to lose you. So, I’m going to return you home and fight off Darius or move somewhere else, depending on my mood.” I glanced down; we were almost on top of King Alo’s castle.

“My father won’t just let you leave,” Lansa said.

“Then I will fight my way out. No king has ever captured or imprisoned me.” I snorted out a plume of smoke.

He spluttered and coughed. “That’s not what I m—AHHH!” he was cut off as I dove.

They built the castle in a niche of low-lying canyon, so it was almost out of sight to dragons who couldn’t see it. A longer, more hidden niche was close to it, with tiny houses pointing up from the pale rock. Farms made up the bed of the valley, with a meandering river separating the animals from the vegetable patches.

I slowed to a stop by the castle, landing in the cool courtyard. The walls and roofs of the castle were the same beige colour as the rocks and were at almost ninety-degree angles to each other, as were all the other houses’.

Lansa slid off my back as guards came rushing towards me. I growled and spread my wings.

“No!” Lansa hissed, touching my leg. “Stay, please. My father will want to see you.”

“Why?” I hissed back.

Not a moment later, King Alo appeared through the large wooden doors. He wasn’t much taller than Lansa, with long grey hair in an even longer plait than Lansa had. His skin was slightly paler than his son’s. White robes hung on his body and a necklace made of black bone and white beads decorated his chest. He was in fine health, one of the healthiest older humans I have ever seen.

“Oh, Lannie,” Alo cried, wrapping his arms around Lansa.

The guards pointed their spears at me. I shot them deadly glares, wishing I could hit them with my tail, or bat them away with my wings, or lash at them with my claws. But I didn’t. I lashed my tail in irritation and glanced at each one or their painted faces.

Lansa held his father close. “It’s good to be back, Nòsh*,” he whispered.

I looked away from the two. Such a sappy view made me uncomfortable. I shifted on my feet, monitoring the guards.

Lansa released his father, giving him a smile that said, “I won’t admit it, but I missed you”.

“And who might this be?” King Alo asked in the same suspicious tone Lansa used.

I inclined my head to him. “I am—”

“—Nòsh. This is (Y/N).” Lansa introduced, cutting me off. “He/She/They rescued me from the terrible dragon that stole me away.” He put his hand to his heart and looked up at me with the awe-inspired and grateful look. He looked back at his father. “He/She/They brought me back here to make sure I got home safe. Apparently, King Darius wanted to buy me off (Y/N) to make an alliance with you. But of course, he/she/they couldn’t let that happen, now, could you?” He looked back up at me.

I shook my head. Playing along seemed like the best option right now. “N-no. No, I couldn’t.”

A small smile flashed across Lansa’s face. “So that’s why he/she is/they are here. To ensure Darius didn’t capture me and make a fool out of you.”

Alo looked up at me and pinched the triangular stone dangling from his chain of beads between his fingers. “Well, you have done me a great service, (Y/N).” He came closer, touching my shoulder. “Lower your weapons,” he ordered. The guards obeyed, standing at attention. Alo dug his finger into one of my (F/C) coloured scales. “Come. I’ve got so many questions to ask you.” He spun around, striding towards the doors into the castle.

I lowered my head to Lansa’s eye-level. “What does he mean?”

“let’s just say that Nòsh is a huge dragon nerd,” he whispered to me.

“Oh,” I said in understanding. I raised my head again and walked after King Alo Lansa, walking beside me. “So,” I started, once the guards and the king were out of hearing distance. “Why did you lie?”

Lansa smiled at me. “Because I don’t want to lose you either.”

Like I said, I got some fine treasure out of making a deal with Darius.

#dragon #dragon one shots #x reader #fantasy #writing #short story #one-shot #one shots #prince x dragon

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