#the night shift | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpxxstan · 8 months

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the night shift

pairing: idol!jeonghan x caregiver!f.reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, a little bit of angst

summary: it’s such a surprise what just three months of your life can do to you. it can actually change your life.

word count: 10.3k

rating: 13+

warning: mention of death (not major character). a few swear words here and there. a lot of time skips, i hope it doesn't impede the reading flow!

a/n: i have officially been sucked into the world of svt and there’s no getting out of here! i honestly just got into soft jeonghan feels and wrote this. i’m writing after a very long time, and so much has happened since my last update on tumblr. i’m sorry if i have kept any of you waiting 😭. i will try to update regularly now!

i hope you enjoy reading it!

“Hello. I’m L/N Y/N.” You bowed deeply to the young man sitting in front of you in a wheelchair, a bored expression feeting in his eyes, his blonde hair falling raggedly over his face. A face you were not unfamiliar with.

The man twisted his lip in annoyance and looked at the other man in the room. “Why is she here?”

“Hyung, you had said you’d keep a nurse.”

“I don’t remember, Hoshi. Perhaps, I was under the effect of heavy medication. Because of these fucking meds-” he seemed mildly irritated as he swatted his hand about in the air. “None of these meds are heavy in any way. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten!” The younger boy whined, and continued, “Jeonghan hyung, the company, the doctor, the members, your family. Everyone has said that this is the best for you. You don’t have a say in this,” Hoshi had stood up to hold Jeonghan’s hands down. “Hyung, please.”

The man in the wheelchair had no option but to become limp in Hoshi’s hold. Flecks of irritation still on his face, he kept glaring at you with the world’s most disinterested look. “One month.”

“Hoshi-ssi told me three months…?”

“No. One month. You work for me, I decide the rules.”

He swiftly turned his wheelchair around and went back into his bedroom.

“He’s moody these days, his mind is really fragile. I hope you understand.” Hoshi spoke to you gently. “Yes, I do. I’ve dealt with more stubborn patients, don’t worry.”

“I’ll leave you to settle down, then! Annyeong!” And the cheery young man left, after bowing his goodbyes.

You had a sense of foreboding creeping into your heart. There was perfect silence in the apartment almost as if you were alone in the entire space. But you knew you were not. How was it possible that Yoon Jeonghan could exist so soundlessly? What if he was actually not- oh god, what if he had passed out or something? You quickly go to his bedroom and knock on the door frantically. “Please, Jeonghan-ssi!” Slowly you heard one breath being released. The door slowly creaked open. The apartment became full of life again as you felt Yoon Jeonghan’s beautiful face eyeing you curiously, like his new found toy.

The first week was a chaotic one, but by the time the fortnight had passed, you knew Yoon Jeonghan was now in your grip. Idle, he had all the time in the world to prank you and tease you, even while being in his wheelchair. Sometimes he would feign memory loss and forget who you were, other times he would ask you to change his shirt after he had dropped some soup on it. If your days at the hospital, where you were interning, were tiring, your nights were even more challenging. He would fall asleep without taking the prescribed medicines, shuffle out of his wheelchair without calling for your help as he should have, and behave just like any naughty kid would. And you had no option but to scold him each time. But you could never be too angry at the man. He would smile the most angelic smile at you, making your veins burst and melt at the same time, your anger dissipating into annoyance into laughter. Eventually you would smile to yourself every time he was successful in his teasing, each feat giving him immense happiness. One successful prank, and Yoon Jeonghan was a happy man.

There were other ways to coax him into submission too. Making him his favourite ramyeon to warm his body whenever he could not sleep in the winter nights. Watching Jun’s new drama with him, and giggling over the kissing scenes, as Jeonghan would give you live commentary on how Jun would probably be behind the scenes. Combing his hair, which was growing longer by the day, into neat braids.

You had, eventually, and unthinkably, fallen into a routine.

“What is it exactly that you do in the daytime?” He had asked you once, while you were preparing breakfast for him before leaving for college. “I go to med school. Then I intern at the local hospital.”

“I know. But that can’t be it. Surely school and internships can’t leave someone as dog-tired as you come home, Nurse L/N.” He looked at you with suspicious eyes, a mischievous spark in his doe eyes. You knew he was going to tease you now.

You had, honestly, gotten used to this, and started recognizing the signs. Before you would cry out in anguish every time his teasing got the better of you. ‘Jeonghan-ssi. I forbid you from speaking ill about my favourite pen. It’s my lucky pen. I always do well in exams I write with this.’ ‘Oh, save heavens I make fun of your dearest pen.’ And he had laughed, all while knowing he had hidden the pen below his pillow. He would give it to you the next morning, a wave of relief flashing over your tense features, extremely nervous over the exam that day. ‘Don’t worry. You’ve studied so much. You’ll do well, irrespective of the pen.’ And then he had the audacity to wink. Fucking wink. After all the superstitious stress he had put you through the entire night.

“Have you ever met any person from the medicine industry?”

“Nope. No people. Some annoying aliens though, prescribing bullshit medicines to me which I don’t even need. And of course, I’ve met you.”

“You don’t even know how stressful med school is. And then, at the internship, they’ll ask us interns to do everything. Right from sanitising the scalpels, to cleaning the floor if someone spills coffee, and the very next moment, they’ll ask me to perform a minor treatment, as if I wasn’t busy polishing the floor right now.” You huffed and puffed as you served Jeonghan the sunny-side-up. He had already put butter on his bread and began eating it.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving now. Your coffee is in this pot. I’ve baked some cookies last night, while you were on that live call with fans-”

“Ooh that’s why the entire house was smelling like dogshit.”

“SHUT UP! They taste very good.”

“Dogshit? You’ve tried? A true connoisseur-”

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ll put you in timeout.”

“No!” He instantly put on his angelic smile, pouting, his features full of aegyo, and your momentary anger melts. Oh you don’t know what to do with this one.

20 days later, you could feel the wall between you two breaking down slowly. He had become more accepting to having you bossing around the house, keeping it clean and keeping him safe. Although you worked with him only for the night shift, the two of you would often have conversations, aside from the bickering, the nonsense he kept spewing and the teasing, that would actually be meaningful.

“You’re wearing your shirt the other way round, Nurse L/N,” he said as soon as you unlocked the door and stepped into the house after finishing your job.

“Oh!” You dropped your bags immediately and made your way to the washroom attached to your bedroom to change. “That’s why everyone on the subway kept staring at me.” When you returned to the hall, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting in the same way, flicking through his phone.

“You didn’t wear the shirt wrong in the morning?” He cocks an eyebrow, and you blush all over. He had caught you. Clearing your throat, “Umm, well…” He tilts his head, letting the evening sun fall on his hair and making it shimmer. “I had a date today.”

Immediately your veins start burning as he makes his way towards you, a small smile on his lips. “Nurse L/N! How did it go?” he asks you, then doesn’t wait for an answer. “Ahh well. That’s a wrong question. If you’re wearing your shirt the other way round, it must’ve gone well.” Peeking at you, to see your blush spreading all the way to your neck now. “Who is the unlucky person then?”

Argh. Not even 10 minutes into the house and he had started teasing you.

“He’s my friend from med school. We intern at the same hospital.”

“Show me a photograph.”

“Why?”

“I want to see!”

“Why? This is personal space.” You fold your arms, going along with his teasing.

“I want to see if he’s more handsome than me.” Jeonghan declares solemnly, as if that’s the most reasonable response. And when you burst out laughing, he laughs with you too, but continues whining to see the photo. And you have no option but to yield.

When Hoshi-ssi had approached you through his manager to take care of Jeonghan for the next three months till he recovered from the accident that had broken his left leg, you had been reluctant before saying yes. Firstly, you hadn’t believed that such a famous celebrity would be requesting for you, when they had all kinds of services at their disposal anyway. Then you learnt that you had taken care of Hoshi’s aunt when she was very ill and bed-ridden, and the good feedback had flown in from his family. Hoshi’s aunt had been your second patient, your first being your own mother, who had suffered from schizophrenia, before you had lost her two years ago. Although your eyes were still wet from those memories, you had decided to take nursing up as a side profession, to pay for the bills of med school, and put your nursing skills to use as well. Seven clients later, you had landed this job- taking care of the superstar idol, Yoon Jeonghan.

“It’s a night shift. So you’ll have to interact very little with the patient. Through the day, he can take care of himself. We just expect you to keep him company as his… mental state… is really weak right now, perhaps more than his physical state,” the manager had said.

You weren’t a Carat. You didn’t even follow idol groups. You didn’t want to seem like a golddigger, and you knew well that these celebrities could throw tantrums, or even worse, ill-treat you.

But when Hoshi-ssi personally called you, you simply could not refuse. There was something so soft in his voice, laced with worry whenever he spoke about his hyung, you simply knew you had to help this man out.

And you had taken up the job.

The apartment was big enough for you to stay comfortably. Jeonghan was non-interfering in your personal matters, mostly. From time to time, he would comment on your hairstyle, worry about the dark circles under your eyes, suggest a new skincare product, and enquire about your family in all politeness. You had thought the initial courtesy he showed would die down, and then he would minimise his interactions with you.

However, to your great (mis?)fortune, he stayed up every day, even after 25 days had passed, waiting for you to come back home. He would sit at the dinner table, as you made dinner in the kitchen. He would text you, while you were at work, sometimes meaningful questions, other times random thoughts, and even more rarely (thankfully), some photographs. Of his pet rock, of a new parcel delivered home, of takeout he had ordered for lunch instead of eating what you had cooked for him that morning, of himself.

Oh, of himself.

Those selcas were the rarest, and yet you kept wishing for him to send you one whenever your phone lit up with a notification. While you would sit in the break room, eating lunch between classes, you’d wait for it. When hanging out with friends after the internship, you’d wait for it. When your date from two weeks ago, Minho, took you out to coffee, you found yourself waiting for it again.

And when it did, you’d save it instantly. Take a screenshot if it was a one-time view. Stare at it endlessly, sometimes laughing at the filters he would set up, sometimes smiling wistfully into his beautiful brown irises, looking at the camera with odd affection. You knew he generally sent those photos to you to get a reaction before posting them on Weverse for his fans. But somewhere in your heart, you had begun to wish, he would click those photos for you. Not for his fans, not out of boredom, not just to check if his face was still handsome. Just for you.

But that was the least of your problems.

Your job had turned a month old, and you paced about in your bedroom, having packed your bags already, ready to be kicked out. Although Yoon Jeonghan had been fairly tolerable these last few days, one could never understand what went about in his mind.

You were mentally listing off all the things you’d have to worry about now. You’d have to go back to your shitty paid guest room, and pay rent. You’d have to go without the extra cash from this job, barely making enough to eat four meals a day. Only somewhere in the corner of your mind, another little thought came up- you’d have to live without the living breathing caramel sunshine that was Yoon Jeonghan. You had truly gotten used to living with him- as a roommate, of course. Even with his irks and mischief, his moments of vulnerability and his fake aegyo. You had learnt to not dislike him, and now he was getting too close to your heart.

A sharp knock on your bedroom door broke you out of your thoughts. “Nurse L/N? You didn’t come to wake me up?” He says it so normally, as if you’re not combusting with nerves right now. “It’s not 8 am yet, you don’t like it if I wake you up before that.”

He yawns. Lazy, warm, still in his night sleepsuit. His hair messy, his skin looking soft and his lips looking-

“What’s all these bags for?”

“Huh?”

“You’re leaving me?” He starts to pout, making your insides like molten lava.

“I- uh- one month-” you manage to stutter out, wondering if he had truly forgotten or if this was one of his pranks. “One month’s done? Yay! I am two months away from freedom. Nurse L/N, can you please order waffles for me today, I’ve been craving something sweet!” He whirls around his wheelchair after flashing his brightest, cutest smile at you. Left with your mouth open, you already start thinking whether all the ingredients for waffles could be found at home or not.

While you would be away during the day, his members or family would come visit him, to help him dress or bathe. Every other day, you’d see him sitting with a member of his group, hearing their laughter even before seeing them when you entered the house. Sometimes more than one would turn up, and it would be a party.

They always treated you with great respect. Joshua would profusely thank you, the polite charismatic gentleman he was, for taking care of Jeonghan. Seungcheol would ask you regularly whether you were well, whether his friend was irritating you, and whether the terms of work were suitable for you. The days when his members would arrive, usually Jeonghan would switch on live, for his fans. Mostly the lives would get over as soon as you would arrive, sometimes they would continue after you arrived as well, and you’d try your best to soundlessly work through the house so as to not disturb anyone. Contractually bound to secrecy and personally wishing for no involvement with his fans, this was an arrangement suiting you perfectly.

Except one day, when he was doing the live all on his own. You dropped a small glass, and hurt your finger in the broken glass. Almost on instinct, Jeonghan had shouted out, “Nurse L/N, are you okay? Did you break something?” Hearing voice full of concern, real genuine concern, you couldn't help but reply back. “Yeah I’m okay! Don’t worry, it’s just a glass.” “Hmm, okay.”

Cleaning up your wound, you had tiptoed towards Jeonghan’s room, where he was arranging legos while streaming live. Your heart was pounding in your chest, waiting for the call from his company, asking you to resign. Knocking softly on the door, you entered, trying to signal him to not mention you aloud and asking him if the company had reached out to him to announce your dreadful fate.

“Ou?”

Facepalming yourself as Jeonghan asked you in the loudest whisper possible, you gave up. Even if your earlier reply was probably not audible due to the distance, it was so clear now when Jeonghan visibly looked up at you, and asked you, in the most innocent way. “Ou? What are you saying?” You were about to leave the room, when suddenly he introduced you, out LOUD, in front of his fans. “Caratdeul! This is Nurse L/N, she’s taking good care of me! Don’t worry for me. Nurse L/N, please say hello!” By now, you were palpitating. Your phone would ring any moment. Any- “Hello, I am Nurse L/N. I’ll take your leave now, Jeonghan-ssi,” you said, without showing your face on the camera.

But Yoon Jeonghan had no intention to let you escape. “Nurse L/N,” he cried out, with a pout on his face, his eyes shining behind his glasses, “how does my lego model look?” It was a model of some sports car. “Hmm, looks good!” “Everyone!” A smug look appeared on Jeonghan’s face, “This is the first time Nurse L/N has said my work looks good! This is all thanks to our Carats.” Taking his self-absorbed, smiling-widely-till-his-eyes-disappeared moment as an excuse, you left the room. Because another minute, and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crossing a line.

You were well into the second month, when the panic attacks started.

They were most likely triggered by the doctor’s report that morning. Jeonghan-ssi, I’m afraid you’ll need more time to recover. Although your femur’s not broken, it’s extremely weak, and your legs cannot support your weight now. Even after recovery, I would advise you to not dance heavily for at least another month.

You had been awoken by a sharp scream in the middle of the night, no scratch that, early in the morning, as you could see the first rays of dawn streaming in through the window. Immediately you rushed to Jeonghan’s room, who slept with his door unlocked for such emergency situations. “Are you okay?”

And instead of the calm fairy you expected, you were met by a ghost.

Yoon Jeonghan was sitting upright in his bed, sweat pouring down from his forehead and arms, his long blonde hair dishevelled, and his chest heaving for air. The worst was over, you reckoned, as you gently stepped closer to him.

For the first time in two months, you saw fear in Yoon Jeonghan’s eyes. As soon as you came near the bed, he reached out to grip your hands. You whispered to him, endlessly rubbing his arms and his back, it’ll be alright, you’re okay, don’t worry, i’m here, you’ll be okay, you’re safe with me, until you could feel his heart rate slow down to a normal pace.

He then looked at you, in such an inexplicably fond way, like-

Like you were his light.

Like you were the stars in his dark night.

Like you were his world.

And you succumbed to the urge of hugging him. You pressed him gently to your body, trying to relay your warmth to his colder body, initially hesitant as to how he would receive your action.

To your surprise, he pulled you in closer. You realised it was his anxiety speaking, his fingers still trembling from the shock. And not his need to be close to you, as your dumb brain hoped somehow.

But then, he kept the hope alive.

“Stay with me tonight, Y/N.”

The entire day, you were extremely distracted, both in school and at work. Fumbling with things, clumsily dropping things, and forgetting important tasks. Yoon Jeonghan had called you by your first name for the first time. This single thought kept spiralling in your head, finding root in some delusion or the other. The entire night, you had spent with him. Hugging him first, then he had laid down and put his head on your lap. And you had stroked his hair, until he was asleep. You had sent a text to Seungcheol, asking him to come and stay with Jeonghan, as you didn’t want to leave him alone like this but you couldn’t miss classes today. He had immediately agreed, and turned up sharp at 7 am. Instead of waking up Jeonghan, you had left your blanket next to him to fool him of your presence, and left the house, leaving the man in his best friend’s care.

Last night had been a monstrous event for the tiny feeling you felt in your heart every time you thought of Jeonghan, which was actually nearly every second. Long forgotten was Minho and his stupid face and stupid voice and stupid pick-up lines. The only voice which sent warm electric shocks through your entire body was the one that belonged to Yoon Jeonghan. You kept texting Seungcheol, asking him for updates, whether Jeonghan had eaten, whether he had bathed, whether he had taken his afternoon nap, whether he was talking normally, whether his blood pressure was normal, so on and on. Even when his replies satisfied you, you were always nervous about what was happening back home.

Home.

Was the house you spent your nights in now home? Was the subway station you had now gotten used to getting off at home? Was the bedroom you slept in now home?

Or was he home?

When you did return to your home, you found the man who had occupied all your thoughts through the day sitting next to Seungcheol, giggling about something on his phone. “Oh you’re here!” Seungcheol says, popping up when he spots you enter. “Hi. I came home early.”

Jeonghan’s smile disappears, and you tense up already. You have no idea what’s coming.

“I’ll be leaving then. He’s been asking for you all day anyway,” Seungcheol smirks against Jeonghan’s little rebellious whines, and your stomach churns in worry. He bows to you, and leaves. Leaving you with the blonde little elephant in the room.

“So. How are you feeling, Jeonghan-ssi?” You ask after a while, breaking the ice finally. He shifts towards one side of the sofa, and you instinctively step forward, wondering if he wanted to get up into his wheelchair now, but he only pats the seat next to him, asking you to sit down.

“I’m sorry for last night, Nurse L/N.” There, back to just a fucking nurse. It was a slip of tongue. “You don’t have to be. This is what I’m here for. This is what you’re paying me for,” you chuckle, but he doesn’t even smile. “But I invaded your personal space-” you lean forward, hold his hand, and say, “Hey. Don’t worry. I hugged you out of my own accord.” “Because you wanted to?” he whispers, and you whisper back, your heart beating in your throat, your voice hoarse with emotion, “Yes, because I wanted to.”

“Can you do it again then?”

Quirking your eyebrows, you realised he’s being dead serious. There’s no way he could lie and tease you with such vulnerability in his eyes. And so you hug him. It’s not as close as last night, but the embrace still makes your spine tingle with happiness. You hope against hope he cannot hear your heartbeat.

When you try to pull away, he lets you, but keeps holding on to your hand.

“I’m- umm, what they call, clingy. I appreciate physical comfort. I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable. You can move away when you like.”

“No. I don’t feel uncomfortable at all. If you like, we could hug more often. Or you could hold my hand. Or put your head on my shoulder or…” you didn’t want to think of his head on your lap again. You would not be able to control the urge to kiss his forehead and eyes and tiny button nose and of course, the pretty lips.

“But you have a boyfriend…”

“Huh?” You’re taken aback now. What was this? “I have a boyfriend I don’t even know about?”

“That boy, Minho? You went out on dates with him?” He looks confused. You bite your lip, “Oh. No, I lost interest. We didn’t date, at least seriously.”

“Oh," you saw the clouds in his face clearing.

So he was worried about your boyfriend being uncomfortable with a grown man hugging you for emotional support? Jeez. What did he think your taste in men was?

"Can I make another request?" God, what's this tone? You had never heard it before but you could sure get used to it. Pouty-faced, soft voiced Jeonghan was definitely your favourite. As if you could ever say no to him.

"Hmm, go on?"

"Can you sleep in my room today?"

You wish you could say no to him.

“In your bed?”

“No, I think your bed can be shifted to my room? It’ll fit also. It’s a single, thin bed.”

You know it will fit. You also know your room is big enough to fit another queen-sized bed. But when you’re that close, how will you be able to tolerate the distance?

“Hmm. I think it could fit. But I think it’s too heavy for me to carry today… maybe I can ask some help from neighbours or friends tomorrow and set it up in your room? Meanwhile today… I could bring a mattress and sleep on the floor.”

“No!” He cried out. “I mean- you can always sleep next to me.” He smiles, a little angelic, a lot devilish. You know he’s teasing now.

You take away your hand from his, and you can see him begin to whine at the loss of warmth. “On the floor then.”

But yet again, as dawn breaks, he screams awake again, and you notice tears rolling down his cheeks also. He hides his face from you when you sit next to him to calm him down, embarrassed of his tears. You wipe them away with your hands (and not with kisses).

And that’s how he falls asleep again. He lies down fairly far away from you, at least an arm’s distance. But your hand is still in his, and you can’t sleep, overly conscious about drifting towards him in your sleep. You’re content just taking in his beautiful face through the sunrise, drinking up his features like you’re parched, wishing you could put your fingers at each spot on his face, feeling the bone and the muscle and the skin, feeling his breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what triggered your nightmare?” You ask him the next morning. Good heavens, it’s a free Sunday after ages, and you had been looking forward to this for weeks now. You had so many plans- ordering food for brunch, catching up on your favourite k-drama, buying a new pair of shoes. But you realised- all of these plans involved Jeonghan. You couldn’t imagine doing any of this without him.

You’re sitting with Jeonghan in the small balcony of his apartment, which overlooks the city almost entirely. It’s a serene view, the sunshine not too harsh, and Yoon Jeonghan hasn’t let go of your hand ever since last night. You hadn’t pushed him too far for answers yesterday, thinking it was a one-time thing. But today, you were getting more curious and worried.

“Ummm… I’m not too sure myself? I just have a lot of thoughts these days.” You stroke the thumb of his hand which lies in your palm now. “What thoughts? Do you miss your members? Your fans?” “Yeah, I do. But it’s not like that just…” You know he’s hesitating, but he’s seconds away from crying. “Jeonghan-ssi. Go on. I’m here.”

After a VERY long pause, he says softly.

“You know how the doctor said I’ll need at least another month, even after this hiatus of three months, before I can go back to my normal self, being an idol.” You hum in between his pauses. “I’m scared, Nurse L/N. I’m scared… they’ll forget me. And even if they don’t, I’ll be disappointing them. I won’t be able to meet my fans’ expectations anymore. They won’t get what they deserve from me.”

“No one deserves anything from you. You don’t owe them anything.”

“You don’t understand,” you can sense his voice getting hoarse and louder. “Fans aren’t easy to explain to- and to be honest, which fan wouldn’t be upset seeing their favourite idol isn’t going to dance well any more? Hell, I’m probably no one’s favourite idol anymore.” He looks away from you, his hand already retracted from yours.

“Jeonghan-ssi. Firstly, if you really care about your fans so much, they most likely care about you a lot too. Of course, they’ll understand. And secondly, have you checked twitter? Or instagram? They keep talking about your health, and look forward to your live videos-”

He smiles, “Yeah, they’re asking about you too.” You ignore the statement and continue, “I understand where your vulnerability is coming from- but you can only improve your mindset by not thinking of the worst case possible.”

He doesn’t say anything. His face is still sullen, dark clouds storming in his eyes.

“Jeonghan-ssi, you’re not that easy to forget, and less easier to replace. I don’t think your fans will forget you so soon.”

He looks at you, his lips pursed in a hopeful trance. You know he’s still extremely scared of the future, but then, who wasn’t? It was only natural to be afraid of uncertainty. You gently pat his head, and ask, “Is one of your band members going to come today? For bathing and dressing you…?”

Frankly, you didn’t understand why they couldn’t keep a full-time caregiver who would be professionally trained to do all the work required. But you had seen Jeonghan’s attitude the first time you suggested this. No. I’m not an object for pity, and caregivers will pity me. Plus I don’t trust them. I trust you, I trust my members. I’m only safe in your hands. You had wanted to ask why he trusted you- was it because he knew you really needed the money and a good place to stay? But you had simply nodded and left the issue.

“No. I didn’t ask any of them to come today. They have a shooting schedule today.” His voice sounded even more feeble. He probably missed being on set with them, laughing as a whole, playing games, singing and enjoying themselves. From the videos of their show, Going Seventeen, which Jeonghan had himself shown to you, you had noticed how solid their bond was, and how comfortable they were around each other, easier than friends, stronger than family members.

“Oh.” This meant you would have to bathe him. Shit.

“I’m throwing my shirt!” “Yeah.” You waited outside the door of the washroom as Jeonghan stripped inside, and threw his shirt through the slightly open door. You had become extremely flustered at the thought of dressing and undressing him, but he had provided a simple solution.

Although you doubted how simple it was, when you could hear him struggling to get his pants off. “Nurse L/N. I think I’ll just bathe with my pants on!” “No! Don’t be a dirty boy. Do you want me to help?” You asked, breathless. “No,” you could hear his sigh, “I’m fine. I’ve got it off. Here, catch!”

Then there was the sound of the shower opening, the slight squeak of a tap, and a tune being emitted by the man showering there. You left quietly.

It was around 3 in the afternoon when you both had finished bathing, lunch, folding up laundry (you) and singing random songs (him), watching one episode of a k-drama (him) and wondering why hearts ached without any attack (you). “I’m going to take you out. Enough of staying indoors. It’s eating into your brain.” You announce.

He almost jumps with you, but then winces. “But where? I don’t want to make a public appearance to collect sympathy and pity.” “You’ll see. You said you trust me, right?” He smiles, “Ayy. Human trust doesn’t go that far.” But you can see the excitement build in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.” “Surprises are not nice.” You tie up his eyes with a blindfold, leaving him no option but to huff and puff and whine and sulk.

But this surprise is nice. Jeonghan’s face lights up like a million watt bulb when you take off his blindfold and reveal him sitting in his dance practice room, all his members standing around him. He squeals in joy, and they all start talking instantly, making it too loud a chaos for you to decipher. Hell, you haven’t even been able to tell their voices apart yet.

The man you know as Channie, comes to you and bows. “I’m so thankful to you for bringing Hyung here. Thank you for taking care of him!” Another man, Seokmin, joins him, and they both smile at you widely. You blush, suddenly caught off guard by the attention, and excuse yourself from the room, leaving the boys to their antics. You text Jeonghan that you’re going to meet up with your childhood best friend, and you’ll be back to pick him up whenever he calls.

But he never calls you back. The members carry him around- they go to some restaurant, eat barbecue and drink a hell lot of beer, and then they drop him home. You had returned a couple of hours back, and when you see three strong able-handed men entering the house with Jeonghan, you take the chance.

“Jeonghan-ssi. Do you still want me to bring my bed to your room?” Although the other three men stare at Jeonghan quizzically, he solemnly nods. Seungkwan asks you, “Are you sure that’s okay with you? I t’s a really weird request!” Mingyu adds, “Yeah, Hyung, if you need her anytime, you can just call out for her, she’s anyway in the same house.” But Jeonghan won’t have it. “Yah, please. Nurse L/N, please.” You sigh and say, “He’s not feeling strong enough to sleep alone. It’s okay, I’ve done this before. I understand the need for physical comfort.” “Are you sure?” Seungcheol asks you, and you nod your consent. Then he says, “We’ll help you bring the bed then!”

That night, Jeonghan slept on his own bed, and you on your own, but he said he felt more relief knowing you were around him. I’m worried for you too, you know. Worried? What on earth for? Nothing, just. I’m feeling over-protective for everyone who matters to me right now. It was safe to say you slept in a constant dream-like state. Jeonghan did not wake up that night, and even if he did, it didn’t wake you up. You woke up only to your alarm next morning, breaking your haze of dusty, autumn dreams of blonde ponytails, flowers in a garden, and a pretty face belonging to the man lying next to you.

Third month in, and you were feeling a little under the weather. Perhaps it was the flu passing around in your college for a while now, but you had been strictly banned from going to the hospital (an order you had cried and begged your supervisor to take back, fearing this was the premature end to your internship, but he had calmly asked you to come back when you were well). Jeonghan, meanwhile, was now out of his wheelchair, and simply walking about using a pair of crutches. He was in a better mental state now, as the nightmares became fewer and less intense, and his general moodiness also dissipated.

But of late, he was being too affectionate towards you. Perhaps it was the reason behind you falling in. His sickly sweet smile whenever you complimented him for walking well, his blush of shy satisfaction when he completed any small task you gave him. One day you stepped into the house and almost screamed before the man sitting on the sofa turned around and showed you that it was none but Jeonghan, with his hair dyed black now.

And dear heavens. That black mop of hair would kill you.

For, if blonde Jeonghan was an angel, an embodiment of sunshine, a picture of innocence, black-haired Jeonghan was all of that but a slight rough edge to him, making his features even sharper and his eyes even deeper. It was all you needed to stab a dagger in your heart every day. Now that you’re stuck at home on a leave for 10 days, you have nothing to do except look at this man, laugh at his antics and calm down the growing anxiety in your heart as to what you’d do after these three months got over and your contract would expire. And even though you never voiced your worries out loud, Jeonghan somehow caught them.

“How many months are left till you graduate?” “About five months?” “Hmm. You can actually stay in my apartment throughout and not go back to the shitty place you showed me pictures of.” You gawk, “You’re crazy, how could I ever do that!” “No I’m serious, Nurse L/N.” You stick your tongue out, not interested in his pity offers. “You know what your problem is, Nurse L/N?” Your face is still turned away from him. “You’re just so stuffed with pride. That’s why you’re not taking the medicines I’m giving you at correct times.”

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“I’m fine.” You stress on every syllable, but Yoon Jeonghan can’t seem to take the hint and buzz off.

And that’s your biggest issue. He doesn’t even tease you as much as he is genuinely caring for you now. As if you’re really his friend. You wonder what has brought about this kind of absurd change in him. It’s not like anything had changed in how he saw you. Nurse L/N.

You were wrong about his teasing nature mellowing down. The next morning, when your supervisor had called, you had been in the washroom, and instead of just letting the call go until you returned, he had picked up the call and introduced himself as your Oppa.

Indigestion just had to hit you that very day.

You had no option but to let your blood boil in embarrassment as you overheard the entire conversation, helpless and frustrated.

“Yes, umm… she’s really stupid. She keeps forgetting stuff, you must know hahaha. No wonder she’s totally forgotten about mentioning me. I’m her local guardian haha.”

You hoped he would clarify something about the Oppa tag. Mention that he wasn’t your boyfriend. Mention that he was your brother or something. Or even an older friend, but in vain. Jeonghan was hell-bent on spreading rumours in the hospital about your love life, one would think.

“Yes! I know. She’s recovering now, I’ve been taking good care of her.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t have any family per se. She just has me.”

“Aaah no no, it’s no like that…” you could hear his voice ambiguously trail off, leaving several loose ends. This must’ve been a question about that-

“Oh sure! Thank you. I’ll let her know asap. Yes, yes tomorrow. Thank you.”

After three minutes when you emerged from the washroom, pissed and stressed, Yoon Jeonghan was smiling to himself while watching a video on Youtube.

“What was that call for?”

“Which call?”

You stare. He budges. “Oh, your supervisor had called. He was asking if you can join back tomorrow. I said yes.”

“Why did you pick up?”

“Why not! Would you rather lose the one chance your supervisor gave you to come back?” He smirks, knowing he had hit your weak spot. “But even then. You’re not my Oppa.” “Huh? I’m four years older than you!”

“Jeonghan-ssi. Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you can introduce yourself as my Oppa. Are you dumb or do you not understand the connotations of such an introduction?”

There was a pause.

“What would you suggest I’d introduce myself as? I didn’t want to say my name-”

“Her friend would just do. Or her neighbour. Or her classmate from college.”

“Those wouldn’t have had similar connotations? Any boy answering any girl’s call would have similar connotations, Y/N-aah.”

Another pause. Maybe he hadn’t realised he had called you by your first name.

“Then you should have just introduced yourself as the patient I’m taking care of in the night shift. Everyone knows about that, Jeonghan-ssi. Honestly, anything but Oppa. You’re not my Oppa.”

Before he could reply, you take your phone from the table and lock yourself into your room for the rest of the morning, too overwhelmed to say anything else or even look into the eyes of that dangerous man.

There had been very little conversation between the two of you through that day and the next, before you left for work again. He had tried a lot to initiate conversation with you, weird questions interrupting the silence now and then. But you were honestly too stressed to take any of his excuses and forgive him.

How dare he call himself your Oppa, when in three weeks he was going to simply forget you totally? How dare he even call you by your first name and break the professional formalities that were standard? You had thought the first time, that night, had been a slip of tongue in feverish delusion. This was no delusion. In bright daylight, he had crossed the line and called you by your name.

Although it shouldn’t matter much, you rationaled. Oppa could mean a dozen different things. No one would assume it meant boyfriend.

But oh, you were so so wrong. You knew it as soon as you stepped into the hospital after an extremely tiring day at university, and saw people staring at you. You reached your supervisor’s cabin to mark your attendance, and he too gave you the weirdest looks. The peak of the entire farce was when Hyerin, your closest friend at the internship, whispered to you after hugging you warmly to welcome you back, “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND?!” Aargh.

“He’s not a boyfriend. He’s just the patient I’m taking care of. He randomly messed with me and introduced himself as my Oppa.”

“BUT I HAD NO IDEA HE’S LIKE A YOUNG GUY? I thought he’s a sixty-something fellow, no offence to old men who call themselves Oppa-”

“Yeah he’s a young guy. I told you he had broken his leg?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Breaking legs doesn't require the person to be old. It was an accident while he was crossing the street.”

“Still! This changes thing, hmmmm” she smirks, and you know where it’s headed. “Being in close quarters with a man only slightly older than you… are you sure he’s not dashingly sexy? Not a sugar daddy type? I could come and help you in your nursing job then.”

“No, and no. He is pretty good-looking, but I don’t care. Now move and let me start my work before boss comes and sends me on a leave again.” Hyerin wasn’t that close to you to know about the deepest secret of your heart. No one except your one childhood bestie knew about it. And you both had sworn on your childhood rings to never divulge secrets.

To make matters worse, you played a voice note sent by Jeonghan loudly, as soon as you got out of the operation theatre. Right in the corridor.

In your defence, he had sent three messages just before and after that, definitely impatient that you hadn’t heard his voice note, saying URGENT!, and you had fallen for the bait. Instantly playing it, without realising your volume was full, you cringed and almost threw your phone away instantly.

Napipopeta piripu pipiretta. Napi-

“You’re watching Instagram reels at work?!” Somehow your supervisor had also come out into the corridor and had heard the voice note. “You know social media is banned when you’re on duty!”

“Sir, I was just listening-”

“No arguments! So irresponsible. You’ll be staying back till 10 pm today, Y/N!”

“Okay Nurse L/N. Enough of the silent treatment. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be something I’m not… I just didn’t think of the consequences as much. Sorry, please?” He gave you the softest puppy eyes ever given by humankind, as you ate the ramen you had made for dinner.

You hadn’t uttered a single word since returning, just too upset and tired. But now you had to say it. “Was that voice note a joke?”

His eyes widened, “I- I just sent it… thinking your mood would become better hearing it… my fans really like that song…”

You bite your lower lip.

“My boss heard me playing it. That’s why I came home late.”

He stays silent for a minute. “I’m sorry if it got you into trouble. I just thought…”

And out of spite, just out of spite, and pent-up emotions spilling over, you say the worst thing ever.

“Your voice can never make my mood better, Jeonghan-ssi.”

Something had snapped between the two of you since that day.

You had tried to build up a wall between you two, trying to keep distance that you felt was necessary to get your heart used to what was just coming within two weeks. He tried to break that wall, going out of the way to be with you, even helping you study for an exam coming up. He was needing lesser and lesser care by the day, as he regained strength in his legs, and was quite determined to live by his old habits. He would leave the house without waiting for your support, he would cook sometimes, he would also do the laundry.

He did everything to make you feel lesser and lesser wanted in the house.

And you really took the cue. You started minimising your interactions. Even sleeping in the same room became too difficult for you, and you spent many hours on the couch before going to your bed, waiting for him to fall asleep. You would limit conversation to the necessities, taking all possible steps to reduce his dependency on you.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks you, one night, after you both had lied down in your beds but it was obvious that sleep eluded you.

“What?” You whisper back, hesitant. “This. Becoming far away from me.”

There are massive pauses between your replies, and you can hear him holding in his breath through the entire pause.

“You anyway don’t need me much. It’s only best if I move away from you.”

“Physically perhaps- but I thought we could be…”

“Hmm?”

“Friends. Are we not friends?”

Friends. You had stopped wanting to be friends for a very long time now.

“It’s not possible. You and I belong to different worlds, as cliche as it sounds. We can’t be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Have you seen how your fans have taken to stalking me on my social media? I’ve had to delete my accounts everywhere. If they find out who I am, they’re not just going to kill me, but the contract and all the payment I got from this job will be forfeited.”

“Kill you? Isn’t that too extreme?” You can hear him shuffle closer to your end in his bed, his voice closer to you now.

“They’re going to brand me as a golddigger. And even if they don’t kill me, I’ll definitely kill myself then.”

“There, again you and your pride.”

“You’re laughing at my self-respect?”

“No, I respect it. Not many can be so stoic.”

“Goodnight, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Nurse L/N.”

You don’t want to reply. You pretend you’re asleep.

“Y/N-aah.”

You know he’s heard the change in your breath and he continues. “There are really just six days left?”

“We can reduce it if you like.”

“Can you not be so snappy? It’s really not funny anymore.” He sounds agitated, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“Are you really saying this to me? Why do I have the responsibility to make it seem funny? You have a problem with me having real emotions too?”

“I never said I have a problem with anything. But this attitude of yours is, frankly, uncalled for, in my opinion. Or you’re not telling me something I should know. And this is bothering me.”

Another pause before you reply.

“I’m going to leave in six days, Yoon Jeonghan. You better stop being bothered by me.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. Suddenly you can’t breathe in the house anymore. You don’t even want to call it home these days.

Ever since that conversation, Jeonghan had stopped putting in as much effort. You had far overstayed your welcome, and he really needed you to be gone now. Maybe get a girlfriend to visit him. Must’ve been sad without sex for three months for him. Your heart ached every morning when you saw him as soon as your eyes fluttered open- an angelic face, his mouth slightly parted open as he slept in his dream world. You wanted to kiss him (honestly every minute nowadays you did, even if you burnt yourself up, that desire did not disappear.)

It was a crush, you convinced yourself. Finals were coming up, you’d get busy, you’d forget about him. Easy peasy. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to delete the little gallery of pictures you had formed in your phone- including photos he had sent you, photos of him that you had taken, and the three photos of you two together.

The first had been clicked on the night when he had let go of his wheelchair and first taken up the crutch. Many of his bandmates were there, and they had all cheered loudly. Because you had been standing right next to him, holding his arm to stabilise him, Wonwoo had clicked a photo of you too right at the moment when he was looking into your eyes with the joy of letting go of the wheelchair, and you were looking right back at him. It was a coincidental photo, and a photo meant to be only of Jeonghan, but you kept smiling when you looked at it. It almost gave the illusion that it was … for lack of better words, a photograph of affection.

The second was a selca. Correction, it was Jeonghan’s selca, which he had clicked without you even knowing, so you were obliviously watching the drama on the television, eating ice cream. He had even posted it on Weverse, blurring you out obviously. But his fans had caught the second hand in the photograph, zoomed into it, and somehow figured out it was a female hand, and then conducted several polls amongst themselves whether it was his girlfriend, his sister, his mother, his friend or his nurse (how would they ever know though?). The results of the poll had been varied, and some had even claimed: guys we don’t know if the nurse and the girlfriend are different people hehehe you know what i mean!! Ugh, these conspiracy theories.

The third one had been the most recent one. You were on a video call with your childhood friend, and he had just entered the room without knocking. He had said hi to your friend, who had smirked and giggled and tried to make suggestive comments until you winked at her to shut the fuck up. Finally he had left after asking you some really redundant questions, making you wonder why he had even entered your room. Your best friend had taken a screenshot of the two of you talking, and she had practically squealed over call god, he’s so handsome!!!! And he’s so in love with you!!! Did you see how he was doting on your face with every word you uttered?! AWWWW! Y/N, I’d say wife him up immediately!

You had laughed then, and you laughed at it now. Every time you scrolled through this secret gallery, you had nothing but a fond smile tugging at your lips, no matter how distant you wanted to make yourself from the man, who had slowly, but surely, taken up all of your heart, and was showing absolutely no intention to leave.

You packed your bags and stood in front of the door, waiting for Jeonghan to bring whatever he was looking for in his bedroom. He had vehemently protested against you helping him, and as a result, a search that could’ve been completed in seconds, was now taking minutes.

Eventually, he appeared. He had a bag for you in his outstretched hand, and you silently took it from him. Peeping in, you saw everything was wrapped with paper. “What’s this for?” “Thank you, Nurse L/N for taking care of me.” He smiled, continuing, “I don’t know why you’re angry at me. But I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way. Please accept my gift.” Your heart was melting with each step he took towards you, eventually so close that you could see your reflection in his eyes. It was too close for you to breathe, but you realised you wanted to get used to this proximity.

“Thank you, then. Jeonghan-ssi, you’ve been an excellent employer these past three months. Thank you for taking good care for me, as well” and you lightly bow.

“How do I see you again?” You’re stunned. Why does he want to see you? “Do I have to break my leg again?” his whispers grow ragged.

You try to crack a joke, “Or you could break an arm,” but he doesn’t smile. He seems impatient for an actual answer. “Or you could call me. We can hang out once every couple of months, if you’re free. Or you could just… you know, call and talk.”

He wants to say something, but your phone begins to ring. Your best friend must have arrived downstairs to give you a ride to her house. You had decided to stay with her for the remainder of the university term.

“Goodbye, Yoon Jeonghan-ssi.”

“Goodbye, Y/N. I’ll miss having you around.”

You don’t believe him. You think he’s just being nice. But oh, somewhere deep down, you hope it’ll be true. You smile at him, tight-lipped, but genuine. He doesn’t smile back.

And just like that, you’re gone.

The next month, you don’t hear from him at all. Your internship has also ended, and you’ve started studying hard, applying to various specialisation courses, and basically trying to forget him. It works, frankly, because with your closest friend around, you have your mind on other things. Such as her extremely toxic situationship, which she doesn’t even realise is harming her, but you keep warning her to step off. Such as her mother baking cookies for you as winter sets in. Such as visiting your own mother’s grave once every week, to give her flowers, a new ritual you’ve set up.

It’s on one of these bus rides to the park which has her grave that you cross the hospital where you had your internship. And you spot, your eyes instantly going wide, a certain familiar someone standing at the bus stop right outside the hospital.

You’d have recognised him from miles away. Even if it’s really late in the evening, the twilight setting in, you can recognise him.

You want to look away and continue the ride to the original destination. You want to ignore him. You want to push away the thought of him waiting (for who?) in front of the hospital where you worked at while staying with him.

But you can’t. You immediately step out of the bus, paying your fare, and walk up a little bit to reach the spot he’s standing. He’s looking the other way so he doesn’t really notice when you come and stand behind him. Until you cough a bit.

And you’ve never seen Yoon Jeonghan smile this brightly before. Never. Not while you were in his house, not even in the videos of him that miraculously come up on your Youtube algorithm now.

“What are you doing here?” you don’t know why, but your voice cannot go beyond a whisper. In the empty streets after dark, he can hear you clearly though.

“You came.” he whispers back.

“You were waiting for me?”

“Who else would I wait for in front of the hospital you worked at?”

“I don’t work there anymore. My internship is over.”

“So I heard. But I had no idea where you live now, and apparently it’s not safe to go to your university if I have to keep you a secret.”

“But waiting in front of a hospital in the dark is safe?”

“It’s a hospital. No one is looking at me here. I’m not the important person here, for anyone.”

You can’t help but say, “You are, for me.”

The stars are out, the cars are flashing by, and you’re walking alongside Yoon Jeonghan on a silent road. Sometimes your arms brush, sometimes he smiles too much for your heart to take, sometimes you look at him for so long that he breaks eye contact. For once in your life, you don’t want to overthink this. Even if tomorrow you wake up and realise this was a dream, you want to live the best dream of your life till the end.

“Hey,” he whispers when you zone out. You’re standing under a streetlamp now, the smell of flowers from the trees around you filling the air. You’re 100 metres away from a tteokbokki stall, and you want to ask him if he wants to eat some, but he holds your hand at that moment.

“Y/N.”

“No more Nurse L/N?”

“You’ve stopped being Nurse L/N for me for a long time now.”

Your heart stops. He grazes his thumb over your pulse point. You think you’ll combust.

“Your palm is sweaty, Y/N. Are you nervous?”

How can you not be when he’s right there, in front of you, so close… but still so far? You don’t know how you landed up like this, after an entire month of avoidance, but knowing that he came every evening to look for you in front of your hospital, waiting till the shift was scheduled to get over, has melted your heart beyond control.

“You’ve cut your hair again.” You finally say.

“Is it looking nice?”

“Hmm… makes you look sharper.”

“Huh?” His eyes are becoming wide now.

You take your other hand out of your pocket and touch his hair with a featherlike touch. “But it’s still so pretty. You won’t cut me, will you?”

He smiles, and leans in, and you can sense him breathing you in. You must be smelling like sweat and grime by now but he doesn’t seem to care. Eventually he places his chin on your head and time has stopped. You can’t help but snuggle into the warm cavity of his body, gently placing yourself against his strong chest, as you can feel now. And somehow, his hands leave yours, and wrap themselves around your back.

It’s a hug.

And then it’s a kiss on your forehead. A kiss on your scalp. And a kiss in your hair. And you snuggle deeper and deeper into him.

He pats your hair gently, and you mumble into his chest. “What took you so long, Hannie? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” it’s half feverish you know, you don’t even expect him to reply. And yet he does.

“Oh, but Y/N-ah, I’ve been coming to you forever, why did you keep pushing me away, baby?” And you spread your hands around him too, pulling him deeper, until you’re both too squished, and have to move apart for air.

But only a little bit, just enough so that you can see his face, and he holds your face in his big palms.

“Y/N-ah. Do you want to come home with me? I want to watch a new episode of the k-drama with you. I’ve really fallen behind it without having you to watch with.”

You smile, his eyes glitter up with the reflection.

“Of course. But only if you promise to hug me more.”

“No. No more hugs. Can I kiss you?”

You suck in a deep breath, lips parting already, at the wonderful tingle going through your body. You could cry right now, with the time he takes to move in and place his lips on yours gently.

And you do cry. One stray tear escapes your closed eyes, and he kisses that away too.

“Hannie…”

“I’m yours, Y/N-ah. If you’ll have me, forever yours.”

“Of course I’ll have you.”

“Sorry if I kept you waiting for long.”

“It’s okay. You’re worth the wait, anyway.” You smile as you press a kiss on his nose, his little button nose you’ve always found cute. You stand up on your toes and kiss his eyes and his eyebrows and his forehead, but then he stops you. “Baby, let’s go home and then you can kiss me?”

How can you ever say no to Yoon Jeonghan? How could he even think that you’d say no?

“Of course, Hannie. I love you.”

“And I love you, baby.” Another kiss on your lips, and you know you’ve seen heaven. Because if Yoon Jeonghan isn’t the equivalent of heaven, you don’t want to know what is.

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt fluff #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen fanfic #MY FIRST SEVENTEEN FIC LESSGO #svt my heart #the night shift

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hearts4golbach · 3 months

Text

The Night Shift.

chapter 3.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

The party was at 5, so I made sure to wake up at 3 to get ready. I dug through my closet, romaging around the very bottom drawer where I put the shit I don't wear anymore. I eventually found the dress I wore to homecoming my senior year. To say it was slutty would be an understatement. I was against wearing it at first, but why not go into the new year with a bang. Ew, I hate that. 'with a bang.' whatever. I slipped on the dress and it fit better than it used to.

I did my usual makeup, just adding eyeliner and darker lipstick to match the dress. I pulled out my phone and texted johnnie.

y/n: ready when you are

johnnie: alr, me and Jake should be on our way soon I think, idk

y/n: lol ok just lmk when you're here

johnnie: ofc :))

I slipped on the beat up converse I've been wearing since middle school and waited in the living room for them to get here. I was a little nervous for the party.

my phone dinged.

johnnie: herrrreeeeee

I read his message and ran out the front door.

Who I assumed was Jake sat in the front seat, while Johnnie leaned against the car facing me. "hey." I smiled.

his eyes grazed over my whole body. "you look really good."

"thank you." I smiled, tilting my head down towards him. he was wearing a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans with a white button up that he didn't tuck in. Something clicked in me, maybe because he was wearing something other than pajama pants, but I shoved that feeling down.

he smiled sweetly and opened the backdoor for me. I hopped in and was quickly followed by johnnie. "Damn, Johnnie, leaving me to sit in the back of my car with a pretty girl."

"shut the fuck up, fuck face." he rolled his eyes.

"sorry, we've never really met. I'm jake." He reached over the seat and stuck out his hand.

I shook it. "I'm y/n. it's really great to meet you. Johnnie has talked about you."

"yeah, talked shit." Johnnie joked.

"Johnnie has talked about you too." Jake replied nonchalantly. Johnnie's gaze quickly met Jake's. He gave him the death stare before returning to his phone.

"you've never been to a party?" Jake asked me, beginning to drive off of my street.

"yeah, my parents kind of kept me locked in a cage my whole life." I looked out the window, watching as snow began to fall to the ground. The bright white snow contrasted against the dark sky, making it extremely visible.

"you're going to have the night of your life." Jake said with a southern accent.

I turned to look at johnnie, who was still on his phone. I admired the way his dark makeup contrasted against his pale skin. ill admit, he was just as gorgeous as the snow. I smiled slightly to myself before responding to Jake, mimicking his accent. "Let's hope so, little missy."

johnnie looked up at me with a goofy smile on his face. he had a certain look in his eye that I couldn't quite read. my stomach errupted with butterflies. I was usually able to read anyone, it didn't matter if I knew them or not. Johnnie was different, and it was confusing.

Jake had turned up the radio and I looked back out the window, racking my brain for what that look was for. was it because I was being funny? was I getting along with Jake more than he liked? was he happy I was getting along with jake? I came up with every possible answer, but none made sense. whether positive or negative, why would he look at me like that?

we eventually arrived at the party, parking down the street from the house. "I'm going straight for the drinks." I commented. "I will never be the one to turn down free alcohol."

"I second that." Jake said, sticking up his pointer finger and pursing his lips.

loud music radiated from the house. it was still decorated for Christmas. lights were strung all over the house while the roof held a porcelain Santa and reindeer.

I grabbed Johnnie's arm. "Look! no one told me Santa was still in town!" I made a shocked face.

he began to jump up and down. "oh my god, Santa! Jake, it's my dad!" he said in a childlike voice.

"you're finally reunited!" Jake patted his back, making two rough slapping sounds.

we waited on the doorstep while Jake was talking to someone out on the yard. "it's nice seeing you not so stressed because of your job."

"I guess I do seem pretty stressed." I admitted. "but I do love my job."

"still, I've never seen you in something other than jeans and a t-shirt with an apron." he smiled.

"well, I've never seen you in anything other than pajama pants. you look very-" I paused, thinking of a not so obvious word to describe him. "good. sorry, I'm not the best with compliments."

"it's the thought that counts." he playfully nudged me.

"A for effort, I guess." I rolled my eyes at him.

"those shoes look like they've been through hell and back." he looked down before making eye contact with me again.

"I mean, technically they were. I wore them in middle school." I kicked a rock out from under my foot.

"I dropped out in middle school." he snickered as Jake walked up to us.

"Sorry, guys. the ladies love me."

"I'm sure they do, jake." I replied sarcastically.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert #the night shift #cafe aesthetic #cafe

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lavenderfluorite14 · 3 months

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A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 2: Gift

Summary: Tav gave Astarion a gift. Astarion tries to pay her back.

Chapter Rating: 18+, Blood drinking, Grinding, Frottage, Making Out, Hurt/Comfort, Angstarion, Astarion Character Study and everything that entails, PTSD, Descriptive Explorations of Emotional and Sexual Trauma Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 1.

The morning dawned pink and rosy, the sun a bloody jewel in the sky. Tav would be waking up soon and Astarion was putting the finishing touches on his apology. He would be concerned, tender. He would be apologetic but not obsequious, and this would never happen again. Unless Tav wanted it to.

Would she want it to? She had certainly been willing, in the beginning at least. But how would she feel the morning after? Astarion wasn’t used to mornings after. And he had been…rougher with her than he had intended. Shame flooded through him when he remembered how he had lost himself in her like a wild beast. But she had felt so good. Astarion didn’t know if he had ever felt this good before.

He felt happy. That was the word, happy. He must have felt happy once, a lifetime ago. But dwelling on ghosts he could no longer remember and who hadn’t bothered to remember him never led anywhere.

He fully understood now why Cazador had deprived them of good blood. Seven full, strong vampire spawn could find a way to overpower a cruel master. But seven malnourished, pathetic slaves were too busy trying to survive the day to plot a coup. Astarion despised how Cazador could cloak his sadism in calculated logic. He could bash Cazador’s skull in.

Tav stumbled out of her tent, clearly still delirious. She had donned her leather jerkin as usual, but she had also conspicuously wound a strip of cloth around her throat and tucked it into her collar, wrapping her neck snugly in the fabric. Blearily, she scanned the camp until she saw him lounging by his tent. Astarion steeled himself.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” He said lowly, so the others wouldn’t hear.

“A bit woozy, but I’ll be ok,” she said sheepishly.

“It’ll pass,” he hoped.

“How do you feel?” Tav asked.

“I feel wonderful,” he preened. “And now you get to reap the benefits of a fully fed vampire.”

“This is true,” she said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight today.”

“I’ll have to put on a show for you. Now that I can fight with all my weapons.” He shot her a fanged grin. Tav laughed, a sound he realized that he was beginning to like.

“Good thing I have a front row seat, then,” she said. Tav began shifting uneasily from foot to foot. “Astarion. I know you’ve been hesitant to talk about yourself so far but we really should discuss this, ah, turn of events.” Astarion nodded stiffly. “I suppose I owe you an explanation or two."

He described the difference between a vampire and a vampire spawn and how you can become one. Tav stiffened at the implication: had he been a true vampire, last night could have gone a lot differently.

“But I thought that sunlight killed vampires?” She asked.

“Oh, it does. I should be cinders in this light. I shouldn’t be able to do a lot of things, honestly.” He went through the list: standing in the sun, entering homes uninvited, crossing running water. “As for any other quirks, well,” he chuckled, “we can figure those out in time.” He was looking forward to it. Maybe the tadpole had bestowed other latent powers.

“Well, if I can help, just ask. We are in this together.” Tav gave him a bright, warm, reassuring smile.

“Oh, you are such a sweetheart,” he deflected. Of course she would say something like that.

“Tav, what’s that around your neck?” Shadowheart called towards them. Tav’s hand flitted towards her neck instinctively, her eyes darting to Astarion. He didn’t move. He wanted to see what she would do.

“I’m just a little cold today so I found a scarf,” she said. She was covering for him. She was really covering for him. Astarion’s stomach dropped. Usually Tav was better at this.

“Tchk. We heard your carousing last night,” Lae’Zel spoke.

“Is that blood?” Wyll pointed towards the scarf, where a small patch of crimson was blooming across the fabric. Astarion licked his fangs.

“Darlings, I’m afraid I have something rather small I’ve neglected to tell you.”

“Astarion,” Tav turned towards him but he anchored his hand on the small of her back reassuringly. If he now had Tav's support then this was his best opportunity to tell them.

“It’s all right, my dear. They were going to find out eventually.” He squashed the doubt inside him into a hard little ball and cleared his throat. “I am a vampire,” Astarion announced. There was a brief moment where no one spoke.

“So be it. But if I wake with so much as a drop of blood at my throat, I will end you,” Lae’Zel growled. Duly noted.

“I trust him,” Tav interjected. “He won’t hurt us. He has had ample opportunity to do so and has instead become a strong ally.” The group paused again, sharing a glance among themselves. Gale broke the silence.

“Well, I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m a pretty open-minded man, actually. But just a word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful.” What a shame.

“Vamps don’t scare me. No sense judging someone for who they are.” Karlach piped up. “’Cept devils, obviously.” He knew he liked Karlach.

“So long as there are no innocents, I am fine.” Wyll said. “And so long as you keep your fangs to yourself.” Wyll would probably be too sweet, anyway.

“A vampire?” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can live with that. We’re already monsters in the making, what’s one more. Now come here, Tav. We can’t have you leaving camp looking like that.” Shadowheart led Tav away, her healing magic already surrounding them in a soft blue glow.

But once Tav was out of earshot, the others closed ranks. “I meant it when I said no innocents, Astarion. And if you hurt Tav, you will have to answer to all of us.” Wyll said.

“Is the Blade of Frontiers already rushing to the damsel’s rescue?” Astarion scoffed. “I didn’t do anything to Tav that she didn’t sweetly ask for.”

“I don’t care what happens in your tent. But if you can’t control your bloodlust then I will control it for you,” Lae’Zel rasped, her words a heavy threat.

“Now that I no longer need to hide and we all have an understanding, we will have a perfect accord.” Astarion sniffed. “I am here in the spirit of teamwork and understanding-”

“You say all the right things Astarion, but I don’t think you mean the right things.” Gale accused. Astarion glared back, uncowed. “But either way, Tav trusts you and I will respect that decision. Just promise us there’s no more secrets.”

“I have already told you everything you need to know about me,” Astarion smiled thinly. Gale sighed disapprovingly. “Very well. I suppose I can live with that.” The group dispersed uneasily, leaving Astarion alone to finish donning his armor. Astarion released a shuddering sigh, relief flooding through him. That had gone much better than he had expected. But although they weren’t going to kill him, he had been right: his companions would never actually accept a vampire. And rightfully so, he thought bitterly.

Shadowheart had been able to close her wounds and heal her neck, but she hadn’t been able to cure Tav’s dizziness. Apparently she knew the perfect spell, but wasn’t strong enough to cast it yet. Of course.

Tav had been keeping up so far, but she wasn’t acting quite like herself. Before she had been quick with a joke and a laugh, but today she was lagging behind. She lacked her usual air of conviction when she spoke. Yet although his eye lingered on her worryingly, Astarion couldn’t bring himself to regret last night’s unexpected tryst.

She had been incredible. Delectable, even. He had known conceptually that such pleasure was possible, he’d imagined it often, but he had never physically experienced anything like that before. And now its source slept 20 feet away, snug in its own bedroll. Would she let him taste her again? Tav had been understanding and supportive of him so far, but one could never be sure.

The thought of never having Tav again made him feel cold. He could content himself with less, he had done so for centuries. He’d keep himself warm with the memory of her. And her support had theoretically opened up a veritable buffet of other dining options for him. Surely someone else would be just as delicious. He didn’t need Tav.

His eye lingered on her as they moved deeper into the Emerald Grove. Tav really was beautiful, in her own way. Cazador had demanded that they bring him only the beautiful and the strong to dine on. It was said that beauty and strength made the blood richer to the taste. Astarion could recall several times when Cazador had rejected his victims for whatever fickle reason he could concoct. He had still drained them of course, but Astarion had been punished hideously each time.

“Are your standards truly so low? You think this is beautiful, you think this is worthy of me ?”

He wouldn’t reject Tav, Astarion thought. Cazador would have been delighted if Astarion had brought her home. His gut squirmed.

The druids were awful, tedious creatures. These petty squabbles had nothing to do with him and Astarion didn’t see the point in sticking his neck out for Tieflings who would be dead in a week anyway. Especially now that he could choose whether he stuck his neck out or not. But Tav cared. So they were off to find this Halsin character. Astarion rolled his eyes.

Tav needed to rest earlier than usual today. While they were resting, Astarion wandered down to the small, sandy coastline bordering the grove and plopped down onto a rock, slouching gracefully. He just needed a quiet moment to himself. But something clinked when he sat down. Astarion craned his neck to investigate and caught a flash of gold hidden beneath the rock. Carefully, he slipped his hand underneath the rock, fishing for the trinket. He extracted it delicately, holding it up to the light. It was an amulet, carved in the Oakfather’s likeness. As Astarion turned it over, he realized that it had been imbued with a spell, Lesser Restoration, which would cure the wearer from disease, poison, paralysis, or blindness. Astarion swiftly pocketed the treasure, hoping that no one had seen him. Finders keepers.

He returned to find his companions laughing. Wyll was in the middle of regaling them with some heroic exploit of his while Tav spasmed with laughter, her body curling in on itself. Karlach, who Astarion noticed was wearing new leather armor, egged him on. No doubt the armor had been bought by Tav with the gold they had all scavenged, which seemed unfair. Why should Karlach get fine new leathers while he was dressed in rags? He had mended his doublet countless times over the years, but it was still falling apart at the seams. They probably couldn’t tell, he thought bitterly. Astarion had taken enormous pains to hide his threadbare appearance and would be mortified if anyone saw through his embroidered facade, but it still stung that no one did. “Get over here, Fangs!” Karlach called. “You’ve GOT to hear this. Wyll, tell it again.”

“So there I was, surrounded on all sides-“ It was surprisingly a pretty funny story. Wyll had lived a full, interesting life in such a short amount of time. His ragged scars only accentuated his dashing charm and handsome face. Somehow Wyll could make a stone eye twinkle with warmth and sincerity. Despite his own alleged beauty, Astarion knew he could never compete with that. And Tav looked at him with such open fondness and admiration. He ran his thumb over the amulet in his pocket, soothed by the sharp edges.

When Wyll finished his tale, obviously victorious, Astarion said “Yes, well. I’m glad our Blade could sharpen himself on such a useful whetstone.” His words were nice enough, but his tone was sour and ambiguous. Wyll gave him a slight nod, as if he didn’t know what to make of Astarion’s almost compliment.

“Alright everyone, let’s keep moving. We can keep swapping stories while we walk.” Wonderful. He could regale them with all the inventive ways Cazador had enjoyed hurting him over the years.

Tav retired early that night. They had defeated the false paladins, but only just. Astarion had been at the top of his game: his movements were more graceful, his thrusts stronger and more precise. But Tav had fought badly. She had crumpled underneath the swing of a Divine Smite, which had hit her straight in the chest. Astarion had yanked her back up to her feet as fast as he could, but Tav never fully recovered after that. It was Wyll who dealt the killing blow, sending those charlatans back to the hells.

Tav limped all the way back to camp. Karlach had offered her arm, which Tav had taken, but once they arrived at camp Tav quickly disappeared into her tent. Tav had given him so much today, too much. He could never truly repay her, but maybe he could give her a present of his own. One that would keep her in peak condition should they dally again. He could feed on beasts for a time, but if he had the option there was no contest about what he’d choose. She’d been willing last night. Perhaps with the right persuasion, and the right protective amulet, she would be again. Astarion pulled the Amulet of Silvanus out of his pack and slipped it back into his pocket.

He strode as casually as he could to Tav’s tent and gave the canvas a few soft taps by way of greeting. “Come in,” came Tav’s groggy, exhausted voice. Astarion slipped silently inside.

“Darling, today was positively marvelous,” he began. Tav was curled up in her bedroll, already falling asleep. Tav rolled over to face him and Astarion laid down beside her, close enough to tease but not close enough to touch. “I’m glad it was good for one of us,” Tav said, rubbing the premature sleep from her eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

“This is the best I have felt in a long time.” Astarion regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. They were too true. “You gave me a wonderful gift today. I think it’s only fair that I give you a gift of your own.” He produced the amulet with a quick flick of his wrist. “It’s imbued with a spell that will make you feel so much better,” he purred. “May I?” Tav nodded. “Then sit up for me, my Sweet,” Astarion ordered softly.

As Tav sat up, Astarion gently maneuvered them so that he was sitting behind her, pulling her against his lap. He brushed aside her hair carefully, baring her neck to him. Despite Shadowheart’s healing, he could still see the faint imprint his fangs had left on her skin. He suppressed a possessive shudder. He settled the amulet gently against her throat, trailing his fingers along her collar bones, then her shoulders, then her neck, where he clasped the chain into place. Tav touched the amulet tentatively, using it as a conduit for the Weave. A soft blue light surrounded them and Tav felt her body surge with energy again.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You are more than welcome,” he whispered against the nape of her neck.

“About you biting me,” Tav began.

“I hope this is a satisfactory apology,” Astarion countered. “What more could you possibly want.” His hands drifted down to her waist. “Unless?”

“You can bite me again, if you want,” she said, arching her neck. “If we talk about it first.” Astarion buried his face in her hair.

“I suppose that is a deeply reasonable compromise,” he murmured. “But I promise, no more bites in the night. I will wait very patiently until you invite me to dine with you.” He allowed his hand to slide across her abdomen.

“Will you dine with me tonight?” She asked.

Astarion audibly sighed. “I don’t know, darling. You just got your strength back. You should really rest.”

“I feel so much better, really,” Tav said. She gently clasped his hand in hers, slowly entwining their fingers. “Please, Astarion.” His fangs ached.

“Oh alright,” he said, sliding her backwards so that she sat fully in his lap. Astarion pressed his mouth against her ear. “But only because you beg so prettily,” he said lowly. Tav whimpered softly, but remained still. Then he bit her, hard and deep.

Tav was even more delicious the second time. She was rich and full-bodied, like the wine he must have loved in life. Now that he was merely ravenous and no longer on the brink of starvation, Astarion took smooth, consistent pulls from her, running his tongue over her throat after each bite. Tav melted against him, clutching his hand tightly. He wanted this to feel good for her. He wanted to be able to do this again.

“Astarion,” Tav moaned. He sucked harder against her neck, trying to bruise. She gasped and writhed against him, seeking out friction. Astarion finally allowed himself an experimental thrust, dragging his hard length along her backside. Tav gasped, delighted. They found a crude rhythm, instinctively grinding themselves against each other. Soon the tent was filled with the heady musk of arousal, the metallic tang of blood, Tav’s breathy gasps, and Astarion’s low, guttural groans of pleasure.

All too soon Tav’s heart began to stutter. It was a small murmur that interrupted her previously steady heartbeat. The dark animal inside of him told him to ignore it, to keep drinking until he was completely full. Astarion pulled away, swiping his tongue one last time over her, licking up any stray droplets he had missed. Once he was finished, Tav turned in his lap to face him, winding her arms around his neck.

For a moment they were both still. Tav’s eyes shone with lust and adoration, her breath coming in soft pants. Astarion’s neglected cock pulsed beneath her and he fought the urge to thrust up against her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this warm, this desperate to be touched. He stared at her, trying to memorize every detail of her wanton expression. Tav pressed her lips against his hungrily and he opened his mouth to her with a soft moan. Tav’s tongue gently lapped at his own, sensuously licking up the remnants of her lifeblood. Astarion reluctantly broke the intoxicating kiss.

“I think it’s time you went to sleep, my dear,” Astarion said. Tav drew back, stung.

“Oh, um, alright.” She quickly slid off his lap and Astarion stood up, too quickly to be nonchalant. “Was that too-“

“Don’t worry, darling. You were perfect,” he said, brushing off non-existent dirt. “But you almost died today. And I need you in tip-top shape tomorrow.” Tav flushed with embarrassment, but nodded. “You are right,” she slowly agreed.

“I always am,” Astarion said. He moved to go, but turned back once he reached the exit to her tent. “Sweet dreams, pet. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left before she could respond.

Of course there would be a condition. Tav wouldn’t let him drink her blood for free. It was him. He was the price. She would let him drink from her, perhaps nightly, so long as he slid into her bed each time. On some level this felt inevitable. He had always known that he would end up here, tangled in the most powerful party member’s sheets. The tadpole had changed many things but it hadn’t changed what he fundamentally was.

She wanted him. He wanted her. This was a good thing, he’d been actively aiming for this. So what was the harm? His old master had forced him to spread his legs for rotten scraps. His new one would have him on his back in exchange for a feast. This was a good thing!

But Astarion didn’t want a master. He wanted to be free. He wanted….he didn’t know what he wanted. If this was the price then he didn’t think he could pay it after all. Don’t be an idiot, his inner voice mocked. This is the way the world works. Blood for blood. Do you want to go back to Cazador? Then suck it up. This is our one in a million chance to be free and I will not see you fuck it up because, what? The pretty girl wants to kiss you and it makes you feel weird? Would you rather be tortured to within an inch of your pathetic life?

And yet another voice inside of him insisted that this was not fair. Tav had been kind to him. He had fallen on her in the middle of the night and she had fed him. She had defended him publicly to the rest of their company. She had stopped when he had wanted to stop.

Because she wants to fuck you, you imbecile.

He’d talk to her tomorrow and clearly iron out the details of this little arrangement. It was better, actually, if he left her wanting more for a while. He didn’t want her growing bored with him. So long as she didn’t eject him from the group, he could live with anything Tav threw at him. He had survived Cazador. He would survive Tav.

Author's Note:

Astarion is going to have a lot of complicated and contradictory feelings about Tav until more trust is built. This will take time, but I promise we will get there.

Chapter 3: Kiss

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #the night shift #a taste of plums

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johkku · 2 months

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Based on a tweet I saw, really happy how it turned out

#star wars #shin hati #sabine wren #ahsoka #fanart #art #digital art #wolfwren #ahsoka series #thespywhodumpedme #the night shift #ivanna sakhno #natasha liu bordizzo #vampire #vampire hunter

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darkwingswarrior · 2 years

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this ones for @certified-handler. Moon reading some fan fic to y/n and Sunny in the cuddle puddle

#cuddle time #the night shift #they figured their shit out eventually

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icedmetaltea · 2 years

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Couple of pics I felt compelled to draw after binging The Night Shift by @certified-handler the last two days~

I had it in my bookmarks for a while (cause I'm too lazy to sit down and READ), and I'm glad I did, bc I had more chapters to enjoy! If you enjoy possessive Sun/Moon, angst and tons of hurt/comfort in later chapters, you're in for a treat. It's so well-written and WILL make you squee into your hands. And cry ; - ;

(Spoilers kinda)

Taking a majority of my art off tumblr for now. Fuck AI

This scene is from Little Tidbits (Right Hand Red) . Still not over the delicious TENSION

POV: Calliope heard you talkin shit about Y/N and is coming to GET YOU

#The Night Shift #fnaf #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf sundrop #sundrop #five nights at freddies #fnaf moondrop #fnaf security breach #sun x y/n #moon x y/n #sundrop x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #yandere #pics from fics #metaltea draws

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gwaine-lover · 8 months

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Eoin Macken catching sun in Ireland ☀️✨

Amy: You're working hard?

Eoin: 😁👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

Eoin: I'm so free!

Amy: [laughing] Some of us been working!

x / x

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yourpalghost · 1 year

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Listen. Listen to me. @certified-handler ‘s fic, The Night Shift MAKES ME FEEL THINGS!!! And this scene fucked me up.

They’re a family your honor.

#a draw #fnaf sb #fnaf sb sun #fnaf sb moon #fnaf sb y/n #the night shift #spoilers #also I had to make moon hook his finger on suns ring because closeness and security or whatever #im soft theyre soft we are all soft #now how you feeling about ripping my heart out eh certi? ;p #jk do it #fnaf sb daycare attendant

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thenightshift-interactive · 5 months

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A set trait MC will have is a 'mark'. It appears as a tattoo upon their body; hand/s, shoulder, chest or back.

It primarily takes the appearance of a blacked out area with a 'fallout' area around that can appear as lines; swirls; smoke.

here are some reference pictures, and I apologise; trying to find reference photos of ink on darker skin is one hell of a task.

#sources complete #interactive fiction #the night shift #the night shift if #if #inspo tag

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nightshiftpodcast · 1 year

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It’s time to go back!

Night Shift: An Urban Fantasy Audio Drama is crowdfunding for Season 2 – launching next MONDAY!

Help us raise funds to keep the series going and grab some super fun rewards!

Add the launch to your calendar

#night shift podcast #audio drama #fiction podcast #audio fiction #queer podcast #LGBTQ fiction #podcast #podcasting #night shift audio drama #nsp #the night shift #crowdfunding

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hearts4golbach · 21 days

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The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 23.

"Is that taco bell breakfast i smell?" jake said, sounding as if he was about to start floating to locate the smell. he turned the corner into the kitchen, where i was sitting with tara.

it was 7 in the morning, and the 4 of us were about to go finally pack up my old apartment. they insisted on helping despite me saying i could get it all done myself since i didn't own much anyway.

"Yes, jake." she rolled her eyes, tossing him his usual order. he squeeled like a little girl before tearing into the wrap.

"im gonna go get johnnie up." i walked down the hall towards our room and walked in silently.

johnnie laid on the bed with a peaceful look on his face. his arms were tucked awkwardly under his head as his legs were tangled in the blankets.

i gently shook his shoulder, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Good morning, sleepy head. we have breakfast."

he rubbed his eye, black eyeshadow transferring to his finger. "mornin'." he pulled me in, kissing me softly before sitting up. "When you were asleep, i organized the closet. you can fit your clothes in half of it now."

"Oh my god, really?" i furrowed my eyebrows, a small smile growing on my face.

"i mean, yeah. where else are you going to put your clothes?" he slipped on his socks and stood up.

his fingers tangled with mine as he led me back into the kitchen and sat down next to me. he rested his hand right above my knee as Jake immediately started a conversation with them. i passed johnnie his breakfast, and he dug in, clearly starving.

jake looked down at his phone, "what time do you think we'll be done?"

"Well, im not too sure. i mean, theres 5 of us packing up my tiny apartment, so it's probably around noon." i thought outloud, earning a 'hm' from jake.

everyone had finished their food. jake and tara went to get their shoes on and start the car while johnnie went to take off his makeup. i sat in the kitchen on my phone, waiting for johnnie to be done.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his clean face making me smile. it wasn't often i got to see him without makeup.

"mhm." i stood up and stretched. i put my hair into a messy bun to get it out of the way before walking out the door, johnnie not far behind me. "Thank you again for helping with all of this."

"Don't thank me." he hesitated as if he was going to add onto the sentence. he gently rubbed my lower back.

i hummed, "Okay, then."

Johnnie and i sat in the back of jakes car while him and Tara were up front. I zoned out. thinking about my old apartment made me nervous. although i wasn't going alone, something still felt off. after the incident and how easily i got imhured, i didn't want the same to happen to them. Or maybe it was the fact that my creepy old neighbor lent me a piece to a vaccum, and i still need to give it back, but i seriously doubted that was the reason. i decided to shove my paranoia down as i didn't want to let it ruin my day.

it was if i had blinked and we were already there. i picked my head up, rubbing the cheek that was leaning on my arm.

"i was room number 206," i commented, pulling the keys out of my pocket.

"i can't believe theres not a fucking elevator. This bitch has 5 stories." Jake complained as we tromped up the stairs.

"Just be glad she's not on the 5th one," tara wiped smudged lip gloss off the corner of her mouth.

"Exactly," johnnie nods, slightly out of breath.

i unlocked my front door and pushed it open, revealing my still messy apartment. "Oh, i never came back to clean up." i admitted, even though it was plain to see.

"dont worry about it, missy." jake teased in his southern accent.

tara and jake covered the kitchen while johnnie and i started in the living room. we all added songs to the spotify queue and got to work. i was smart enough to keep boxes stored in my closet. There was always a just in case thing. The living room was nearly empty, the only furniture consisting of a rug and a small sofa that i planned on putting by the trash for someone else to take. i didn't have much decoration, either. All that i had was a painting, my mother had made me and a thrifted portrait of marilyn monroe. The only other things on the wall were some empty colorful vases on a small shelf.

we quickly wrapped those up while tara and jake stacked all of my plates and bowls in between wash cloths. I announced we were moving to a different room before heading into the hall to focus on the closet.

The closet didn't take much work. We shoved blankets and towels into one big box before moving on to my bedroom.

my room was a much bigger task, considering this was the room i spent most of my time in. i sat at my vanity and began packing it up while Johnnie took over the closet.

"i want to stream later, and i was wondering if you wanted to be on it." Johnnie mentioned, bagging up clothes that were hung up.

"Sure, that sounds fun. im still kind of nervous though, what if your fans don't like me?" i glanced over.

"They'll love you, i promise." he smiled at me. "i was thinking i could do your makeup for the stream."

"fuck yeah." i agreed, standing up and making my way to my side table. "Didn't we make those plans a while ago?"

"Yeah, but then a bunch of shit happened. and i figured since we're together now, everyone should get to know you a little better." A light blush spread across his face.

"Good idea. im down," i agreed.

The rest of the house was packed up within the next 3 hours. Jake and i moved all of the furniture down to the garbage bins, with little help from tara and johnnie. i took one last look at my empty apartment before locking it up and turning in my keys.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert smut #jake webber #tara yummy #café #cafe aesthetic #cafe #hearts4golbach #the night shift #fluff #coffee

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lavenderfluorite14 · 3 months

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A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Summary: Free from his master’s vampiric thrall for the first time in 200 years, Astarion’s mind, body, and heart war with each other over how to seize and solidify his precious, and precarious, newfound freedom. Luckily, Tav’s there to help. Or perhaps ruin all his carefully laid plans. Multi-chapter longfic.

Rating: 18+, Explicit Content, Porn with a lot of plot and a lot of feelings

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angstarion, Astarion Character Study and everything that entails, PTSD, Descriptive Explorations of Emotional and Sexual Trauma, Manipulators to Lovers, Vampire Sex, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Grinding, Unresolved Sexual Tension. Tav is CIS female and a bard. Full tag list on AO3.

A/N: As a veteran vampire fucker, Astarion really is something special. Will be updating every two weeks. This will be messy in the best way possible.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: Bite

Somehow, Astarion was watching the sun set. This simple moment, which the rest of his companions almost certainly took for granted, was a miracle to him. He had resigned himself to endless night a century ago, yet now here he was basking in a sunset like it was nothing. He stared at the fading sun until he couldn’t anymore, until his retinas burned and the last languid finger of light finally dipped below the horizon, abandoning Faer��n to a soft, somber twilight. Each precious, fleeting day was a gift and Astarion intended to feast on each one down to the marrow.

Somehow, Cazador Szarr had once again failed to find him. For 200 years his master had ruled Astarion’s waking moments with an iron fist. And then a small, wriggling little worm had miraculously interrupted Cazador’s vampiric hold on him. Imagine, a vampire lord losing to a worm. Astarion could die, again, of laughter. Yet even here, two weeks out from The Gate, Astarion felt his Master’s phantom eyes on him. He didn’t understand it but Astarion wasn’t a fool: he knew his time was limited. It was only a matter of whether the Mindflayers or Cazador would catch up to him first. Neither option was particularly good but the choice was easy, if he had one: he’d do anything, absolutely anything, to keep from returning to the Szarr Palace.

As the camp settled in for the night Astarion pantomimed preparing for bed, a routine he knew he was fumbling clumsily through. The night had been for hunting, seducing, fucking, killing. It had never been for relaxing. For reading. For chatting idly with people he wasn’t planning on stabbing in the back. For now at least. He knew they’d have no qualms about stabbing him, should they discover his condition. Even so, he had meditated more these last few nights than he had in decades. It cleared his mind a little, but it did nothing to calm the dread he carried in his bones. Nor did it assuage his gnawing hunger.

So far, none of his companions appeared to have figured out Astarion’s little secret. He watched each one of them carefully, scouring their faces, voices, and bodies for the smallest micro-expressions of suspicion. Karlach, Hell’s Above, didn’t seem to have much going on upstairs, a genuine blessing. Lae’Zel was too focused on reaching her blasted crèche to spare him a second glance, thank the gods. She could easily skewer him if she felt like it. Shadowheart was too busy guarding her own secrets to pry into his, although she could be oddly perceptive at times. Gale only stopped talking when he had his nose in a book, but he was still the resident wizard and needed to be watched should his, alleged, considerable intellect decide to return to him. The fact that Wyll hadn’t noticed was in itself suspicious, but perhaps the famous Blade of Frontiers wasn’t half the monster hunter he thought he was. Maybe Astarion could survive this after all.

And then there was Tav. Responsible, pretty, annoying, Tav. She had become the de facto leader of this ragtag tragedy, which was perfectly fine with Astarion. He did his best work from the shadows anyway. Tav spent her days settling their squabbles and running after every single irrelevant quest they were given like a dog after a ball. She was clearly too distracted, and too tired he often saw, to notice that he was more than he let on. Perfect.

Astarion wasn’t used to going unnoticed. He had accidentally drawn Cazador’s ire numerous times by simply existing. He had tried to fade into the background countless times, but Cazador’s cruel eye was always drawn to him. “Go on boy, do the only thing you’re good for.”

Well, he wasn’t completely unnoticed. He felt the way Tav’s eyes roved over him when she thought he wasn’t looking, felt her pulse hammering in her throat when they spoke to each other. She didn’t say anything and neither did he, but it was nice to know that he was still alluring even when disgustingly unwashed.

Astarion had the patience of a centuries old predator. Despite the ache behind his fangs, he waited until he could pick out the gentle snores of each one of his companions, not moving until Lae’Zel had made her 15th loop around their camp’s perimeter, which was more than enough time for her to lose herself in the banality of the night’s watch. He’d have to be quick, but he knew what he was hunting for: he had picked up on the heartbeat of a boar hours ago. It wasn’t a sound per se, but more of a pulse he felt in his gut. He honed in on its tantalizing rhythm, allowing himself to be drawn down through the forest and up back onto the road where the beast snuffled for food along the path. Easy.

His muscles tensed. His mind went blank. He slid through the night and tackled the boar, ripping into its neck with a savage bite. The boar thrashed against him but Astarion bit down harder, tearing into the beast’s jugular with a bloody squelch. It collapsed under him and Astarion brutally pinned it to the ground. He gulped down mouthfuls of blood so big that they hurt his throat as he swallowed. As he drank, he could feel the boar’s jerks become weaker and weaker, until its death throes were merely twitches. When there was no more blood, Astarion released his jaw and rolled away, gasping in the dirt as a wave of nausea engulfed him. He thought he was going to be sick. It was the most blood he had drunk in one sitting in 200 years and it sat heavy and bloating in his stomach. He was full. Satisfied? No. But he was full.

But even the fresh spoils of victory grow bland. His palate wasn’t made for beasts. He wanted something finer, something richer. Still, a boar was leagues better than a rat. But he knew, had known for some time, that his body needed more than animal blood to be truly nourished. It needed the blood of thinking creatures.

What would happen if he grew too weak, too feeble to fight? Would this merry band of would-be heroes leave him behind, alone in the wilderness for Cazador to find, if he couldn’t keep up? He would never go back. He’d die first.

You could do it, you know, a dark inner voice whispered to him. Why don’t you have a taste of your new friends?

No. He forced that impulse down. He was a vampire spawn, but he was not a monster. Were they frustrating? Deeply. But these indifferent strangers had been kinder to him than anyone had been in centuries, kinder than anyone who had actually known him. He would not risk whatever precarious piece of safety he had for a quick meal. He’d blow his cover. They’d hate him. They’d kill him. It was the only course of action that made sense once he was discovered. Which was only a matter of time.

Despite everything, his master’s old orders still echoed dully in his mind: Thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. He didn’t know if he could bite them, even if he wanted to. Cazador had forbidden it.

Astarion slipped back into his bedroll unnoticed, mission complete. He wasn’t tired, was too wired from the hunt and from the day’s fighting to truly rest, but he knew he needed to meditate if he was going to be of any use tomorrow. If he was going to continue fooling them into thinking he wasn’t a monster hiding in their midst. Rolling onto his side, he caught sight of Tav fast asleep in her tent, the flap carelessly unlatched. Tav, who had readily forgiven him after he had threatened to slit her throat. Tav, who looked but never touched. Tav, whose opinion and guidance seemed to matter the most to everyone in camp. Astarion sunk into deep reverie.

“It’s dead, my friend. Are you really going to gawk at every piece of carrion you find?”

Astarion could flay himself. He hadn’t bothered to hide his kill from the other night because who seriously cared, there were dead beasts all over the forest, and of course Tav had quite literally stumbled over its exsanguinated remains. Crouching down to examine his kill, she pored over the corpse with thorough precision. He was dead. He was so dead unless he did something.

“Darling,” Astarion began, positioning himself right behind Tav, unsure what he was going to do but moving just to move. At the same moment Tav stood up and took a step backward, crashing into him. For a moment their bodies were completely flush, her back against his chest, her peachy bottom cushioned against his groin. Astarion reflexively reached out to place his hands on her hips, but Tav jolted forward and out of his grasp.

“Sorry!” She gasped, flushing a delicious rosy shade. She pointedly averted her eyes.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Astarion purred. Tav dared a glance up at him and he flashed her an easy smirk. “Are you completely satisfied?” He asked, layering the question thick with innuendo. “There are much better things we could be doing. Shall we go now?”

Somehow, Tav turned even redder. “It’s definitely odd, but a dead pig isn’t the weirdest thing we’ve seen so far,” she conceded.

“No, it’s not. It doesn’t even place in the Top 50 on this little adventure,” Astarion quipped. Tav laughed at that, a quick mirthful giggle. “I’m sorry, everyone. Let’s keep moving.” Tav hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Astarion for the briefest of moments, but she quickly continued onward, surging forward towards the head of the group. Astarion breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had apparently noticed nothing.What a cute, malleable little idiot. ~~

The idea had occurred to him before, that second night underneath the stars. Back when he had thought that their little adventure might actually be over soon. Which had meant that Cazador’s punishments would be imminent. He had wondered aloud if their adventure may actually end the next day and Tav had said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, “It doesn’t have to, we could keep traveling together.” Such a sweet gesture had stirred something in him. The others hadn’t seemed keen on him, nor on each other for that matter. But Tav was kind. Giving. She was already giving him safety by letting him travel with her. What else would she give him, if he played his cards right?

Would she let him drink from her? He was ravenous. He imagined her soft and pliant underneath him, arching her neck, begging for his bite. Astarion was dizzy at the thought of such submission to him, such power over her. He tried to imagine what she would taste like but his brain couldn’t supply an answer. If Cazador had forbidden it then humanoid blood must be delicious.

But why would she help him? No one offered help for free, especially not to a vampire spawn. Even kind, giving Tav also benefited from their traveling arrangement. And his safety in this little arrangement was only tenuous at best. If he didn’t want to be staked on sight, he’d have to sweeten the deal somehow.

He knew how, but something inside of him had hesitated that night. Now, he could kick himself. How many times had he seduced and in turn allowed himself to be seduced? He was a professional, this should mean nothing to him by now. At least Tav was pretty. Flustering her had been both useful and fun. He had certainly done worse. And after today, he was beginning to suspect that Tav may actually like him, just a little.

But still. He was free for the first time in centuries. Did he really want to spend his precious moments of freedom on his back again? Was this really all he was good for?

He just needed some time to think, he would figure this out.~~

Unfortunately, the rest of his cohort were not as amenable as Tav. Today Tav had chosen himself, Lae’Zel, and Shadowheart to explore the nearby forest, which made for a particularly sullen group. Unnerved by his close call yesterday, Astarion realized that he had to acquire more allies….make friends, as it were. Gods. He hadn’t made a real, genuine friend in centuries. The last time he had tried hung heavily in his heart.

Astarion knew that he was profoundly unlikeable. He had been told so many times. There was only one good thing about him, one thing he was good at and only one thing anyone wanted from him, so naturally he would lead with that. He was already working Tav. Lae’Zel was powerful and would make an excellent ally, but Astarion decided to let her come to him. She seemed the type who liked to do the conquering. Gale was a strong option but he was still pining over his goddess and Wyll would probably want to get married first. As appealing as they both were, he needed allies now. And Karlach was literally untouchable, which derailed the entire plan. That left the mysterious Shadowheart.

Drifting to the back of the group, he began poring over the many lines he had used throughout the decades to charm and flatter his targets. Shadowheart acted cold, but Astarion could tell that she was hiding some softness underneath it all. Perhaps he could coax it out of her with the right words, if he indicated that he saw the real her beneath the facade. Adopting a pensive air, Astarion smoothly sidled up her.

“Shadowheart. Such a dark name for such a delicate flower,” he said softly. He tilted his head to a thoughtful angle, trying to catch her eye with his sad, smoldering gaze. Shadowheart shot him an icy glare.

“I heard you practicing that back there. Next time, keep your pick-up lines to yourself.”

Ahead of them, Tav choked on a laugh. “Better you than I,” Lae’Zel scoffed. “If he had tried that on me, I would have ripped his tongue from his mouth.” Astarion audibly gulped and drifted far away from his hostile companions. Tav shot him a sympathetic glance. “Yeesh, tough crowd,” she said. Astarion snorted. “Some people have no taste,” he said. Tav laughed, but Astarion still kept his hands to himself for the rest of the day.

He knew it would happen, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

“First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.”

Cazador was here. Cazador had found him and by the gods, Cazador knew all of Astarion’s new transgressions.

“I’m sorry, Master! I was kidnapped, I had no choice!” Astarion whipped around, crying out into the darkness. The darkness said:

“Second. Thou shalt obey me in all things.”

Which he hadn’t done. He had flagrantly disobeyed. Who would obey such cruel demands unless they were forced to?

“Third. Thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.”

He hadn’t meant to, he had been abducted! He didn’t choose any of this! But Astarion knew that Cazador didn’t care about that. “Please, not again,” he begged, knowing that it didn’t matter what he said.

“Fourth. Thou shalt know that thou art mine, you pathetic little worm.”

Astarion jolted awake, tossing off his bedroll with a shout. The campfire burned steadily, casting off the shadows of night. The deep supernatural darkness of his dreams was gone. His companions lay by the fire and in their tents, somehow still asleep despite his pitiful cry.

Cazador wasn’t here. Cazador was back in Baldur’s Gate and he was in the middle of the wilderness. He wasn’t going to be flayed. Yet. But it was only a matter of time. Cazador would be furious that Asatrion had somehow slipped off of his tight little leash. And worse, Cazador would be jealous when he discovered that Astarion could walk in the sun and he could not.

It dawned on Astarion: he can walk in the sun. He can cross streams. He can enter houses without permission. The tadpole had disrupted so much of his biology already. Perhaps it had fully broken Cazador’s hold. Maybe he could disobey completely. In every way.

He had gone to bed hungry that night. The boar had been too close a call for comfort. And he hadn’t been able to secure additional protection. Astarion had starved for centuries, he thought he could keep himself in check. But the promise of feeding on what he truly craved finally made his hunger unbearable.

He scanned the camp, taking in his companions sleeping forms. So relaxed. So unsuspecting. Who would have the honor of being his first thinking meal? Almost immediately his eyes found Tav, who was curled up by the fire. The flames flickered over her fine features, her beautiful skin. Shadows danced down the length of her neck, disappearing into the valley of her breasts, their round tops peaking shyly out from her loose camp shirt. He had never seen her so accidentally exposed, so vulnerable before. He had to taste her. She would be delicious, he just knew it. His body was moving of its own accord, drawn to her. Bending down beside her, Astarion ghosted his face across her neck, instinctively finding the intoxicating pulse of her heart beat. He bared his fangs, running his tongue behind them. He would be quick, gentle. He only needed a taste, just needed a moment of her warmth. She was so-

“What are you doing?”

Astarion recoiled sharply as Tav sat up, suddenly awake. He swore audibly and withdrew, retreating back to the shadows. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he gasped. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Tav stared back at him, surprise and horror dawning slowly across her face. Astarion thought he saw the beginnings of disgust. “I just, I just needed-“ He had no idea what to say. There was no way out, he was caught. “Blood.” His admission hung strangely in the air between them. Then Tav began to put the pieces together, at last.

“You…are you a vampire?” She asked, incredulous.

“Not entirely. I’m a vampire spawn. But I only feed on beasts! Deer, kobolds-“

“Boars,” Tav supplied.

“…boars too.”

“I knew you were acting strangely yesterday,”

“I’ve just been so weak, so slow. If I had a bit of blood, I could think clearer, fight better.”

There’s a pulsing behind his eye and then Astarion’s mind is yanked backwards to the first time that Cazador had compelled him to eat a rat. He hadn’t wanted to, had begged Cazador not to make him do this, but while his mind resisted his body had obeyed Cazador’s sadistic order. And yet, he had been so hungry that he couldn’t be fully sure what he had done in vampiric thrall and what he had done for sheer survival. He had eaten many rats since then, but that first one had been particularly humiliating. And now Tav knew.

“You didn’t eat them by choice. You ate them because he made you.”

“Yes,” Astarion admitted bitterly. “I ate whatever vermin I was so generously allowed to eat. You’ll eat anything if you are hungry enough.” Tav’s eyes softened and Astarion saw pity shining in her gaze. His lip curled.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” She said.

“Would you have said yes?” He countered. “At best I thought you would say no. At worst, I thought you would drive a stake through my ribs.”

“I wouldn’t have done that, you’re my-“

“I’m your what, your friend?” Astarion sneered. “Vampire spawn have no friends. We’re created by monsters and the world sees us as monsters. Don’t patronize me, darling.” Astarion spat. Tav turned away, trying to hide her hurt in the flames of the campfire. Astarion regretted his outburst almost immediately. Pushing her away now could be fatal.

“And yet despite all that, I needed you to trust me.” He took a tentative step toward Tav, pitching his voice lower to a soft, seductive rumble. “And you can trust me. I swear it.”

“Strangely I do, I do trust you.” Tav’s voice was barely a breath, a whisper above the crackles of the flames. “I only meant that you’ve had numerous chances to kill me since the first attempt and you haven’t. You’ve even saved me a few times.” Astarion continued advancing.

“I’m glad, truly.” He said.

“And we still need each other.” Tav said this softly, sadly, as if she didn’t want to say it.

“We do indeed,” he agreed. “So, do you think you could trust me just a little bit further? In the spirit of needing each other?”

They were so close now. Tav turned towards him, the question in her gaze. He reached out and tucked a stray tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I only need a taste.” He allowed his finger tips to stray down the column of her neck. “I swear.” His mouth hovered over hers. Tav visibly shuddered underneath his ghostly touch. “Not a drop more than you need.” She said. So tough. So generous. “Of course, not one drop more.” He leaned in, his mouth above the shell of her ear. “Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” She nodded. Placing his hand on her hips, Astarion gently guided Tav downward onto her bedroll where he settled next to her, curling against her side.

“Will it hurt?” She asked. Her eyes were wide, her pupils yawning caverns. Astarion doubted that he looked any better. “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he promised. He would try. He would try for her.

“I’m ready.” Tav bared her neck and closed her eyes, turning her face away. This was really happening.

Sliding his body over hers, Astarion lowered himself on top of her. Their bodies slotted together, her breasts pressing up into his chest, his pelvis settling down against her own. Astarion’s hand cradled her neck tenderly, cupping her chin in his lithe fingers. And then he struck, sinking his fangs quickly and precisely into her flesh.

Fresh lifeblood flooded over his tongue in hot, sweet spurts. She wasn’t delicious, she was exquisite. He pressed his lips fervently against her neck, desperate for more of her. His tongue lapped along her throat, seeking every rivulet of blood that escaped his lips. Tav’s gentle fingers came up to trace circles against his scalp and card between his curls. A warm shiver traveled down his spine and he groaned into her neck as he swallowed her down. Astarion mindlessly ground himself against her center and he realized with a surprise that he was hard.

“Astarion,” Tav gasped, her body arching up to meet his. His hand moved to her waist and began to slip underneath her camp shirt, gliding along her exposed flesh. He took a deep pull of blood from her, the deepest one yet.

“Wait, Astarion,” Tav’s voice was growing faint. A weak hand began to press against his shoulder and he immediately grasped it and forced it back down, harshly caging her in. He couldn’t stop. He would never let her go.

“Stop, please Astarion!” He heard how weak Tav’s voice sounded now and it finally broke the spell. He released her throat with a bloody gasp, forcing his body off of her.

Tav rolled over, clutching the ruin of her neck. She looked disheveled, debauched. A feast in every way. Astarion stood abruptly, reeling.

“That was amazing,” he whispered reverently. He was filled with an unfamiliar feeling. He felt light, strong. Brimming with energy. Astarion caught a trickle of her blood as it slid down his lips with a disbelieving finger. He licked it off with a slow thick swipe of his tongue, greedy for more of her. His desire for her was beginning to scare him.

“As delicious as you were, I need to find something more filling.” He spun on his heel but stopped himself from fleeing. He needed to leave before he seriously hurt her, but he didn’t like the thought of her crumpled and alone, used and then discarded. Like he had often been. She had placed her life in his hands for his comfort. He couldn’t ever remember receiving such a kindness before. He turned back to face her, still sprawled and heaving on her bedroll.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.” And then he was gone, striding confidently into the night.

He didn’t think he could hate Cazador more than he already did. But to finally savor such nourishing blood from a beautiful, willing source did not soothe him. It did not bring him relief to finally feel strong and healthy, to finally pierce the mental fog that had clouded his mind for as long as he could remember. Drinking from an oasis after subsisting on spoonfuls of fetid blood for centuries did not bring him peace, but only deepened the darkest pit of his rage.

Chapter 2: Gift

#astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #vampires #the night shift #bard!tav #Astarion fanfic #astarion longfic

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lorichu · 4 months

Text

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

This is my part of a holiday gift exchange @gtypewriter and I did where we chose one of each other's stories and then selected a Christmas song to use as inspiration. I was "given" my characters from The Night Shift, and chose the song White Christmas. The art was a little extra on my part.

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!

The distant melody of another Christmas song echoed from upstairs, as did his mom and uncle's actually pretty good singing, but John didn't move. It was all just noise to him at this point. A quiet, half-formed thought tried to encourage him to get up and go help them decorate the tree, but his entire body had been carved from a block of cold, numb stone. He slid lower in the booth's faded bench seat. Sitting before him was the equally inert empty cup of coffee he'd originally come down into the shop for, which had been drained and left to cool for some time.

John's blank expression stared at the door. Night had fallen hours ago, bringing with it the soft, hazy glow of a snowstorm. The heavy white powder blanketed the rest of the world, rounding out harsher edges and burying everything in indistinct obscurity. If you didn't already know what to expect under a particular snowbank, you'd have no way of finding out without more than a little digging. Over the past hour or so both the flurries and the wind had picked up. Together they created an intricate dance, swirling and spiraling in the shop's exterior floodlight like they were on stage. Each gust was a delicate maneuver, the entire storm a complex song.

And John was just as numb to that as well.

What did catch his attention was the crunch of snow under tires and the scraping of shovels against the pavement. Outwardly he didn't react to those either, but each one was another little jab at his heart. One more needle slipping under his skin to draw out another pinprick of blood. His body was covered in scars that matched the dried salty trails of slush across the doormat. They were rough and jagged, bright against the dark surface, and were pointless to clean away this time of year. All the scrubbing in the world wouldn't stop them from forming all over again the second someone else walked through the door.

Heavy eyelids slid lower as John continued to not put up a fight to stay present. The chilling cold of the darkened coffee shop had drained away all but the very last of his resolve, leaving him hollow and stained like the inside of his empty mug. Uncomfortable as it obviously was, he wanted to feel the pain. More accurately, he was desperate to feel anything. Each and every day had been a little bit worse than the last, but it was his Uncle Alec's return that finally broke the camel's back. Then and only then had he truly noticed how much of him had gone numb. When he couldn't think of a fix, John decided to lean into it. To really embrace the sensation fully, with both body and soul.

Was that the right choice? Probably not. But, then again, John didn't care. Right here in this moment, however long it had been, was the first time he remembered feeling something that wasn't completely soul crushingly empty.

He slouched lower in the booth so that his shoulder blades touched the seat. The stark emptiness of his mind roared loudly in his ears, and his eyes fluttered that much closer to closing. After spending such a long time dancing around the issue, John was tired. Maybe sleeping down here wasn't that bad of an idea. Sure, his body wouldn't be too happy about it, but it might give him something to help take the pain away.

All the flurries blustering about outside had been a simple distraction to dissociate to, but out of nowhere there was motion in the darkness itself. A sharp silhouette crawled up over the opposite side of the table, moving with more purpose than John had experienced in hours. The shape didn't get too close, but it did speak.

"John?" Lyra's voice was soft and yet somehow managed to cut through the static.

Had he been any more in control of himself John wouldn't have flinched so hard. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head, snapping him out of the sleepless dreaming that had almost taken him. Scrambling to support himself, John managed to sit upright with a forceful push against the seat, but he still needed a minute to blink the daze out of his eyes.

That acknowledgement was enough of an invitation for Lyra, and she started to slowly inch closer. "Are you alright? You've been down here for a while, and we were... I was getting worried."

Even though his throat felt like it was filled with cobwebs, John's voice managed to find its way out. "I-I," he croaked, "I'm fine."

The shadows falling across Lyra's face couldn't cover up her frown. "Is that so?"

Her anger became a chisel that broke through the icy walls he'd built to barricade himself in. Dropping his hands into his lap, John hung his head. "No..." he sighed. His eyes slid shut, but that was only to stem the incoming flow of tears. "I just, I miss him."

Lyra didn't say a word. She closed the remaining distance between them by walking right up to the edge of the table. For a moment she considered sitting down, but instead chose to stand so she could be as close to John as possible.

A ragged breath filled and left his lungs. "There was so much else going on last year that I didn't really have time to think about it." His eyes opened slowly, seeking her out like a warm fire in the midst of a howling storm. "B-But, but now, all I can see are the empty spaces. All the places he should be, but isn't. And won't ever be, ever again."

Before John realized he'd moved it, his hand was on the table, loosely draped behind Lyra. She didn't appear to be bothered, and even leaned into the touch, making his fingers curl in closer. As a fingertip brushed over her hip, Lyra locked eyes with him. Her expression told him all he needed to know, but it wasn't until she nodded encouragingly that John dared to take things farther. He scooped her up with all the care in the world even though his hands were still trembling. Instead of just lifting her higher John held her to his chest and sunk into the seat again. Lyra relaxed against him, fully content and at ease despite being essentially trapped.

Like the warmth of smoldering embers, Lyra's love melted through another layer of John's walls. "I know Uncle Alec always comes for Christmas," he murmured, "and I'm glad he's here for Mom, but he," John's entire body shuddered, "he just makes the emptiness bigger, because my heart knows it's supposed to be the three of them up there. Laughing, singing, decorating... This is as close to complete as their group can ever be again. Nothing they, or anyone else can do will ever be able to change that."

Burying her face into his shirt, Lyra took a deep breath. "Filling in the blank spaces doesn't make them go away," she agreed. "No matter how much the substitution might check all the right boxes, it just isn't the same."

It was rare for Lyra to ever speak of her many losses, regardless of who was gone or how long it had been. As they'd grown closer together, John had come to accept that some parts of her would always be inaccessible to him. However, that slight peek behind the curtain brought a gentle touch of ease to his grief ravaged heart. These were not hollow condolences given out of obligation. Lyra was empathizing with her entire being by reaching into the darkest places that could only hurt her. She had not come down into the coffee shop to force him back upstairs, but to connect with him in a way only she knew how.

His thumb bent in to lightly rest on the top of her head. "I keep waiting for his car to pull up," John mumbled on. "Like all this time he's just been out helping someone. That happened a lot, especially this time of year." He filled his lungs and exhaled a powerful sigh. "My heart can't stop believing that eventually he's gonna open that door with a laugh and burst of snow, then tease me about w-why I'm down, down here, and n-not ups-stairs..."

Sobs filled his throat, choking out his voice. John curled inward, draping his other hand over Lyra as well and mindfully clutching her to his chest. That messy blur was back and stronger than ever, but now he had the most powerful shield in the world. Lyra was the only thing keeping him sane, his literal last line of defense against the bellowing grief boiling within him. The animalistic desire to wail his overwhelming feelings would do nothing but scream his throat raw. Any release he could get from that would just cause him more pain beyond this instance. By simply being here, in this moment with him, Lyra was protecting him from himself.

Painful as it was to keep speaking, the entire process was oddly cathartic. "A-And, then," John rasped, "then we'd go up there t-together. To Mom and Uncle Alec." As more words came out his throat felt looser. "There'd be a pot of peppermint hot cocoa on the stove, and the same old CD of Christmas music would be playing. First we'd decorate the tree, then the rest of the house, until f-finally we'd come down here to do the shop. When we finished it'd be at least midnight, but everything would look amazing."

The pressure on her hadn't been unbearable, but Lyra wasn't able to actually calm down until it lessened. "That sounds like a lot of fun. What a wonderful tradition." More of John relaxed around her, and she rolled over onto her stomach in an attempt to look him in the eye. "I can confirm that there is hot cocoa brewing, and Pam dug a really banged up CD out of the closet."

After feeling Lyra move, John repositioned so he could see her. Now that he was out of his mind and back in the present, he smelled the faint waftings of peppermint and heard the familiar crooning of a song he'd listened to every year as far back as he could remember. John watched as Lyra settled more comfortably beneath his hand, sharing what little warmth she had with him. The sight of her so perfectly at ease cast a bright but pleasant light on the corners of his mind, chasing the shadows away.

"What do you think about going up there and joining them?" John asked, his stabler voice already sounding more like his normal self.

Lyra's slight frown just barely furrowed her brow. "Are you sure? I don't mind waiting if you need more time."

Shaking his head, John freed his left hand and braced it against the booth seat to sit up. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. Hiding out down here isn't gonna do me any good. Right now, what I really need is-"

The dull crunching of a car plowing through snow turned into the parking lot. They both froze, now suddenly back in John's sorrowful musings, and they held their breath as the extra diffused illumination from headlights shut off. A door opened, then slammed shut with a snow-muted thud. Softer, dampened footsteps marched towards the shop, bringing with them a familiar face just barely visible through the window.

Gently letting Lyra off on the table, John shuffled over to open the door. "Bret?" he muttered as the bundled, snow-dusted figure scrambled inside. "Did I miss a text or something?"

Bret shook his head, sending a small squall into the air as the door was shut behind him. "Nah, your mom invited me." He started unbuttoning his jacket and took off his hat. "If you didn't know I was coming, why were you down here?"

Walking back over to Lyra, John shrugged and rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. "Just needed a little break from the festivities, you know?"

A believable enough lie, but even in the dimmed lighting Bret could see the puffy rings around John's eyes. Despite that truth staring him in the face, he'd happily take the offered bait instead. "You always did say that decorating night could get outta hand," Bret joked. "And actually, this is kinda perfect." His gaze wandered to Lyra, who stiffened up ever so slightly.

"Why's that?" John asked in her place, shifting a little closer to her out of habit.

Not realizing just how much his crypticness was hurting the situation, Bret reached into his jacket's inner pocket. "Because I have something to give Lyra."

It didn't matter that so much time had passed, hearing him say her name like that still gave Lyra chills. She almost started inching closer to John, then immediately thought better of it. 'Don't show him anything's wrong,' she reminded herself. 'Everything can be turned into a weakness. Don't give him any more to take advantage of.'

An entire lifetime of better memories wouldn't be enough to outweigh or erase everything that happened to her at the museum. Lyra knew this, and so did Bret. However, as the one who hadn't been on the receiving end of years of torture, Bret wasn't always as quick to pick up whenever he inadvertently crossed that line. She knew he was trying his best, and the effort was appreciated, but the iron-clad instincts that had kept her alive wouldn't allow even the smallest slight to pass so easily.

When Bret's hand reemerged, it was closed around something small. He looked at Lyra then John before stepping up to the table and extending his arm just as slowly. Fingers pulled away quickly to reveal the little object, and while John was left squinting to figure out what it was, Lyra gasped. "W-Wait... Is that?"

"Your bag," Bret answered. "The one you had when I found you."

Lyra clamped a hand over her mouth and wrapped her other arm across her body. "How? How do you still have this when he asked you to destroy it?"

Bret needed to stabilize his balance by bracing a hand on the table. "Because I forgot." A groveling apology was building up inside of him, but instead of caving to that, he just went on with the story. "Amos wouldn't let me throw it out in his office because that would be too suspicious, so I just put it in my pocket. There was so much else going on that I completely forgot about it until I got home. I needed to stay on Amos's good side to keep my job, so I wanted to wait for the best time to throw it away. Until I found that, I decided to just stash it in my desk drawer... where I forgot about it again."

"I can't believe you kept it," Lyra mumbled, taking a shuffled step forward. This felt so much like a trap, but she just couldn't help herself. "After all this time."

Because she was getting closer, Bret wanted to pull his hand back and move away from the table. Thanks to his momentary indecision though, it looked like he'd missed his chance. 'She's already too close,' he grumbled. 'If I move now, it'll just freak her out. Probably enough that she won't accept it.'

So he stayed rooted in place and watched as the tiny Mintran woman knelt down to reunite with her timeworn pack. Lyra delicately unhooked the latch and drew in a sharp breath when she saw the stash of her old possessions. "It's all here," she murmured. "Everything..." Distant memories of the life that was stolen from her condensed into tears that stung her eyes. A choked down sob rocked her shoulders and her fingers dug into the thick fabric as she hunched lower.

Seconds later her head snapped up. Just as quickly she tossed the bag aside and jumped to her feet. The heavy stares following her weren't enough to stop her from breaking out into a full-on sprint, and she never wavered as she raced over to Bret's hand. She wrapped her arms as far as she could around his wrist and fully leaned into the hug.

"Th-Thank you, Bret," she whimpered, smearing tears over his skin. "You don't know what this means to me."

Now utterly terrified to move, Bret tried to hold his ground. "You're, um, you're welcome." The way she was clinging to him made his mind dredge up images of her begging for her life, which was a habit he'd broken her of long ago. He could hear echoes of mournful cries ripping through her raw throat. Each one dug into him as well to leave a festering scar that would never fully heal. Over time the wound had gotten easier to ignore, but that didn't mean it had stopped hurting.

Her joy couldn't hold her fear back forever though, so Lyra broke the embrace first. She shuffled backwards to the bag, refusing to take her eyes off Bret after voluntarily getting so dangerously close. He remained just as statuesque and didn't appear to take a full breath until she'd reached down to grab the bag.

Lyra offered a timid smile. "Seriously, Bret, thank you."

"Course," he muttered through a similar grin. "Merry Christmas."

The ache that had brought John down into the shop felt like a fading memory of an old nightmare. He hadn't fully recovered, but there was a new layer of warmth wrapped around his heart like a thick blanket. That warmth was holding him together, bundling up the pieces of him into a single place where they could be protected and cared for. Love was all around him, holding the door open to let him in out of the cold dark of loneliness. It was definitely something to do this time of year, but John knew without a doubt that everyone in this house would do the same things all over again even if it was the middle of summer.

John wrapped his hand behind Lyra's back again and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze as he looked Bret in the eye. "We were just going upstairs to join them, and since you already talked to Mom, I know she'll be expecting you too." Lyra leaned back against him, and he knew that was his cue to pick her up. He didn't need to look down to scoop her off her feet, but he still sent a quick smile and wink her way. "They've probably already done a good chunk of it by now, but I'm sure there's more left to decorate."

Perking up more into his normal self, Bret nodded. "I'm here as long as you need me."

Nothing else had to be said as they hurried through the darkened coffee shop. When they opened the door at the bottom of the stairs the music changed. Without missing a beat, Pam and Alec were already singing.

"I'm, dreaming, of a White, Christmas..."

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #giant tiny #gt #the night shift #christmas

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