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btsmosphere · 5 months

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 2: Reign of Mercy

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.1k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, past attempted murder

a/n: if anyone is wondering, 190811 jungkook is exactly who I have in my head for this fic. so, go google that and thank me later😍😂 also if you saw me change the summary, don't mind me😙 one more thing, I just wanted to clarify that while I say female reader, in this fic it's just the use of she/her pronouns. reader is shorter than Jungkook, but I don't think there's any actual anatomy description going on, in case that's a worry for you!

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“You’re kidding, right?”

Namjoon made no reply to Jungkook at first, simply sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved past the younger man and sank into the sofa. Anyone would have thought he hadn’t heard the irate question.

Eventually he deigned to give a weary reply.

“Jungkook, we can’t pick and choose what happens. And nor could she. So drop it.”

Silent, wide eyes flickered between the two from the kitchen. Jimin’s breath stilled at his lips watching his two brothers while he clutched V’s hand tightly.

Chewing over Namjoon’s response, Jungkook was like a ticking bomb. His gaze never faltered, blazing eyes fixed on his leader.

“Jungkook.”

Only now did his tense form turn, finding Yoongi sat on the sofa behind him, relaxed with one leg slung over the other. No one had seen him come in, but that was normal. He still had his hood up; probably just got back.

Aiming a level look at the youngest, Yoongi said no more.

Exhaling, Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little. Simultaneously, a hint of poison leaked away from the air in the room.

Jungkook turned around.

“It was Bolt, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Namjoon didn’t try to deny it.

Swallowing, Jungkook stepped back to take a seat by Yoongi. He did not relax into the sofa's comfort, however, staying perched on the edge, alert.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon spoke firmly, “I understand you’re not feeling great about it, but you’ll get used to it. A good night’s sleep, and you’ll forget you were ever this mad.”

Jungkook scoffed derisively. Like that was ever going to happen.

“It’s not fair on the kid,” Yoongi weighed in, “she was pretty beat up.”

“See?” Namjoon agreed, as if that was a positive thing. “Never mind how she might look, she was a victim of Bolt too.”

Eyes slipping to the floor, Jungkook stuck his tongue in his cheek.

“You know how we work.”

Namjoon’s words were final. And Jungkook could easily read within them the challenge, daring him to question their methods. Their trust. And he could never do that. Angry as he was, he knew Namjoon was right.

“How you’re feeling is valid,” a softer voice tentatively entered.

As Jimin slid into the spot beside him, shuffling as close as possible with comforting arms enfolding his form, Jungkook gave in. Slouching at last, he leaned into his brother as V found a spot opposite.

“But try to be fair,” Jimin’s gentle reminder sounded in his ear.

Jungkook stayed silent.

Cracking open, the door left a gap just big enough for Jin to talk through. The sound proofing on your safe room made it necessary.

“Good morning! Are you decent?”

He had to resist the panicked urge to enter when nothing answered him for a moment. But he needn’t have worried; you were still asleep. His greeting brought the first ray of light with it to illuminate your room, and soon had you stirring.

Eyelids inching open, you managed a groggy humming sound.

“Can I come in?”

“Huh? Yeah,” you croaked, coming to your senses.

Sitting up among a crumpled pile of blankets, you were in time to receive a glass of water from Jin as he entered. On moving, your head announced its displeasure with a nauseating wave of pain, so you were grateful for the pills he then pushed into your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Swallowing them down with the cold water, you finally became alert enough to feel embarrassed. In front of you, Jin was professionally dressed in a shirt, smart as he had been the night before. You however, probably looked like the worst hangover in history.

“Not bad…” you muttered.

Examining your hands, there was mercifully no sign of that cursed blue so far. The burn you had sustained was also remarkably faded.

“Up to some breakfast? It would certainly help.”

Not sure how hungry you were, you agreed anyway. He probably knew best.

Stepping outside, he waited while you slipped on some clothes he had brought. They were fairly shapeless, large black things, but you couldn’t exactly complain.

Just as the sweater fell over your head, a prickling sensation burst into your wrists.

Gasping, you dropped the jumper over your eyes to look. To your surprise the blue shocks of light jumped from your fingertips and up the fibres of the garment like static. You braced for the burning feeling like last time, but it never came.

Still not free from the knot of fear which tightened every time the powers leapt out, you stared, dumbstruck at your palms.

“Y/N? Are you nearly ready?”

Blinking rapidly, you looked, startled to the door.

“Sorry! One moment!” you called.

There you stood, fully dressed, yet frozen to the spot. As much as this room felt like a cell, you were safe in the knowledge that your powers would do no damage in here. If you left its walls, you had no way of controlling it.

Fists clenching of their own accord, you didn't notice the gasping sniffles that took over you as you watched the door fearfully.

Clearly, Jin did.

“Y/N?” his voice was markedly more concerned, “I’m coming in.”

A moment’s pause, and he was coming towards you.

A firm grip on your wrists pulled you back to reality. Horrified, you stared wide-eyed at Jin’s hands, expecting at any moment for them to be fried when your powers made themselves known. But he was unafraid, keeping them there without hesitation.

“Y/N.” His steady tone had you raising your eyes to him. “I know this is strange for you. But you won’t hurt any of us, it’s perfectly fine. And besides, food makes everything better.”

Holding his smiling gaze with scepticism, you let your hands fall weakly to your sides as he released them. Wiggling your fingers, you tried to detect any sign of the electricity that now resided there.

With a sigh, you only lagged a few steps when you followed Jin's lead out of the room.

A little way down the corridor, a glorious smell of cooking wafted past. Perhaps Jin had a point.

Emerging into the kitchen, you eagerly headed towards the mouth watering scent. But on rounding the corner, your steps slowed a little. Although the space was mostly empty, providing some relief from the overwhelm of last night, the figures that occupied the place were not ones that built your confidence.

By the stove, flipping bacon in a pan, was a man you hadn’t seen before. But you only caught a glimpse of his profile under white hair, before your eyes fell on the other, seated at the island.

Slowing, you instantly recognised the face of Jungkook, who had looked so angry last time he had seen you. Tentative to get too close, you stopped entirely some steps away from the seats.

Nearer to you, the tv was on, volume low as it displayed the news to two empty sofas. But, eager for the distraction, you let your eyes linger on it to delay approaching the intimidating man in the kitchen.

Shame it didn’t provide the respite you were bargaining for. A shot of a city tower cut directly to a startling blue image, the beaming face of a man otherwise hidden by his mask. Bolt.

Your eyes widened, breath freezing in your body as the blue eyes on screen seemed to pierce through to meet your own. The same blue which had confronted you in the mirror last night.

Gulping, you forced your eyes down to the rolling red text below the images.

BOLT SPARES ATTACKER, REIGN OF MERCY PREVAILS

Something churned, low and dangerous in your gut. The letters leered, imprinting themselves on your retinas as you struggled to believe them.

“…you know, my job is to keep people safe, not to sentence them…” Bolt’s voice carried faintly from the screen, twisting harshly in your ears, “…the authorities are the real heroes, I just lend a hand where I can…”

So Bolt had done the noble thing, and left Kuyang unharmed? Except he had sentenced you. Judge, jury and executioner, all in the blink of an eye. In one throwaway flicker of light.

Taeyeon hadn’t even been so lucky.

You hadn’t even noticed the tension in your frame until the image in front of you suddenly shrunk, dropping to black.

“That’s enough of that.”

Jin threw the remote onto the sofa, giving you a meaningful glance. You avoided it, spinning back onto your original path, having totally forgotten your reason for abandoning it in the first place.

Jungkook had been shovelling food into his mouth, but looked up as Jin rounded the island.

And then he saw you.

Straightening instantly in his chair, his chopsticks hovered in mid-air as his every action halted.

Your brain failed you, leaving you staring right back. It was only after a second that you jerkily prompted yourself to smile. Might as well try to make a good impression.

His brow quirked a little, the only acknowledgment you got. Because not a second later, you were gasping as a shock ran down your arms.

Hurriedly fisting your hands in your jumper, you gritted your teeth. Already subsiding, the familiar feeling was seeping away as a chair screeched against the floor and Jungkook’s tall figure brushed roughly past you.

Turning after him with shock, you could only watch the rigid line of his shoulders as he marched away down the hall.

“Breakfast is served!”

Jin’s chipper call pulled you reluctantly back to the table. Seating yourself, you caught him looking regretfully after Jungkook.

Though the food on your plate was steaming hot and looked delicious, you frowned around at the kitchen. Hadn’t someone else just been here? And what had just happened with Jungkook?

As you began to eat, you eyed Jin’s back. Could you have done something to upset Jungkook? The way Jin had looked ready to run after him reminded you again of the fact you had suddenly intruded, albeit not of your own accord, on what seemed to be an established group.

Fixing your eyes on your plate, you focussed on getting through breakfast. It was admittedly very tasty, and you felt energy return to your body once more.

“Any better?”

Jin’s stubbornly upbeat mood was back, and now you were finally able to offer him a smile and a nod. Feeling full and a little more alive, you turned your attention to Jin who leant towards you from across the table.

“You’re still recovering from yesterday, but we need to do a little bit of work” – you frowned slightly – “it’s not like we want to put you in full training, but Joon reckons you would appreciate being able to control your powers a little.”

Though you nodded, your frown deepened.

“Training?”

“Ah.”

That was all Jin said before standing, leaving you no option but to follow him. Abandoning the kitchen, you hurried to his heels and walked, confused as ever, back down the corridor away from the main space.

However, this time, you passed by the door to your small room. There was little variation in scenery as you went further down the corridor. You found yourself near enough tripping over Jin’s heels when he stopped in front of the final door that ended the hallway. Plain and dark like the others, it was like a black hole, pulling you towards it.

Looking up at Jin, you tore your eyes away from his hand where it rested, hovering on the handle. His mouth had drawn itself into a flatter line, smile erased in favour of a serious stare.

“The others are probably in there already, so… just stay near.”

And then he flashed a smile, as if he had been inviting you in for tea.

With no more time to worry about what on earth he meant by that, you were greeted with the door opening and an instant cacophony of sound from beyond it.

Eyes widening, you forced newly tense muscles forwards. Jin’s reminder to ‘stay near’ pressed close on your mind as he disappeared into the dim space beyond.

A thin staircase curved and led you downwards. When the door shut, it cut off no light. In here, flashes bounced off dark walls, air cracking as it was tossed around.

Coming to the base of the stairs, you looked over a long room. It resembled a gym, a couple of benches and punching bags pushed against the outside walls and large square mats on the floor. Sure enough, as Jin had said, some of the boys you had met the previous day were dotted along it.

As you stopped beside Jin, who waited by the steps, another spark, like lightning, burst across the far end of the space. Gold sliced through the air in a thick, powerful beam, veins darting into the air.

Just as quickly, it was gone.

“Jungkook has the most similar powers to you,” Jin’s voice, low in your ear, “which is why we would have him teach you, but… I don’t think that’s best, right now.”

He moved into the space without elaborating. Though your feet carried you with him, you were occupied by squinting across at Jungkook. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was facing away, and now he rolled his shoulders out, shaking hair from his face, and raised his arms again.

In the blink of an eye, vibrant gold shot from his palms, towards a sort of metal disk on the wall opposite him.

“Look out!”

Your gaze at Jungkook was severed as a tug came on your arm.

In your distraction, your feet had stilled, and now you stumbled towards Jin and out of the path of a medicine ball which slammed into the wall with a dull thud. Gulping, you watched it fall heavily to the ground, not even bouncing.

“Sorry!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you found the source of the apology.

Chest heaving and pink hair plastered to his forehead, was the man that had smiled at you last night. He shot another dazzling grin now, as if he hadn’t just sent a weighted ball shooting at where your head had been.

But as your eyebrows raised, he lifted a hand and suddenly the ball floated up from its resting place on the ground. The next moment it was flying back towards him.

Flattening his hand, the ball stopped and stayed hovering a few inches above his palm.

You must have failed to hide the shock on your face. The moment he looked over to you, he burst out laughing, eyes creasing. And you couldn’t be sure – his eyes were obscured after all – but they might have glowed pink for a moment as you watched. The ball never moved, seemingly fixed in place in mid-air.

“That’s Jimin,” Jin muttered, then raised his voice, “get back to it!”

Laughter subsiding into a bold grin, Jimin snatched the medicine ball from the air and turned away.

Close behind Jin, you made more effort to stay with him this time, eager not to find yourself in the path of any more flying things.

Further along, the wall gave way to an opening. A similar room lay beyond, square this time. Peering around the corner, a familiar blond zoomed across your vision. But watching the person, you could barely believe it was the same cheery Hope who had welcomed you yesterday.

This room had more equipment, ropes descending from the middle of the ceiling, as well as bars and hoops filling the floor. And currently Hobi was way above your heads, making easy work of a rope. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he leapt from it with zero hesitation.

A second later, he landed securely on the wall, grasping small climbing holds you hadn’t noticed. They were black just like the walls, only noticeable because he was now clutching onto them.

Pulling himself up, he launched once again into the air, kicking off the neighbouring wall into a somersault. You had barely scooped your jaw off the floor when he landed on a lower platform and dropped out of sight behind it.

“You know Hob-ah already,” Jin said conversationally. His light tone sounded more like he was showing you around an art gallery, not that you had just seen his friend performing death-defying stunts.

Rushing once more to keep up with your guide, your eyes never settled. They darted from him to the surroundings, not having time to look more at the flash of purple from across the room or the white-haired man slumping onto a bench near Jungkook.

“So this-“ you panted, “this is training?”

“Yep!”

“You… you all train with your powers?”

A nod.

You had reached the end of the gym now. A couple more doors led on; where, you could not guess. This place seemed like a maze. You didn’t even know whether you were underground or not at this point.

Sticking close to Jin, you couldn’t help but shrink back as you passed Jungkook. He was a few strides away, but as you expected, that venomous glare fixed itself back on his face the moment he saw you.

Sparks crackled by his fingertips, drawing your eyes. Was he trying to intimidate you?

Brow sinking and nostrils flaring, you fixed a stare right back at him. You hadn’t spoken to him once! What could his problem be? As you glared, a flicker of gold darted across his irises.

But then you had apparently reached your destination, as Jin opened one of the doors and you were led away, gaze warring with Jungkook until the last moment.

Once you turned back to Jin, you found him a way down the new hallway. Quickening to catch up, you frowned at the back of Jin’s head.

“What… what power do you have?” you asked tentatively.

In front of the next door, Jin stopped, making you do the same. A soft chuckle left him, his face good-humoured as he turned to you as if you had just told a joke. Shaking his head, his eyes turned back to the door you waited at.

“Me? No, I don’t have any powers.”

And then he was rapping at the door.

“One moment!” came a call from inside.

“Except maybe keeping Namjoon-ssi organised,” Jin winked at you then.

Too startled to form any kind of response, you hadn’t so much as laughed before the door was pulled open. Jin swiftly left as Namjoon smiled in greeting and stood back to let you into the room.

Swallowing, you stepped into the space. It was fairly unremarkable, grey walls with a plain desk and a couple of chairs in the middle.

You paused a few steps in, but now Namjoon strode to the desk. Following, you sat opposite him. A tension had seeped into your frame and now you eyed him warily as he made himself comfortable, a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m sure Jin told you,” he began, “we don’t expect you to do anything with your powers just yet. But it will make things easier for you if you can control them a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

Taking you in for a moment, Namjoon was silent. Then he sat back and spread his arms.

“I want you to summon them.”

“What?”

Your protest was instant, but you got no further.

“If you can summon them, that level of control will help you to suppress them as well,” Namjoon explained calmly, finger raised to quell your complaints, “not to mention that by using your powers, it prevents the need for them to burst out uncontrolled as well.”

“But… I don’t know how to summon them,” you spoke quieter, hanging your head.

The scrape of his chair brought your eyes up again. An encouraging nod your way had you standing as well.

“Hold your hands out.”

Still hesitant, you did it anyway. He seemed to have no issue with the fact he would be directly in your line of fire if you actually succeeded.

“Okay. I would have liked to ask Jungkook to do this with you, since his powers are most like yours. I don’t know exactly what your powers feel like, so you’ll have to think about that yourself. Can you imagine how it felt when you used them?”

You chewed your lip as you tried to recall. It hadn’t been pleasant, you knew that. A sort of itching, tingling sensation – though at first it had been worse, like a burning.

You didn’t want to feel that again.

“Got it?” he asked.

Nodding weakly, you listened to the next instructions.

“As a starting point, try to picture the feeling. Hopefully they should respond. Really focus, and when they do, try to sustain it for a couple of seconds. You should be able to feel the core, where the power is flowing from.”

You blinked. You hadn’t really understood any of that, but you took a deep breath anyway.

Letting your eyes slide closed, you tried to remember precisely the feeling of your powers. Not that you wanted to feel the electricity claw its way down your veins, or burst from your fingertips.

Nonetheless, you willed the fire to unleash itself.

It must have sensed your reluctance, though. Nothing came.

Dropping your arms after a few more moments, you sent an apologetic glance to Namjoon. But he didn’t look disappointed in the least like you had imagined he would.

“It almost never works the first time,” he said. “Keep trying.”

Biting down on your lip, you resigned yourself and raised your hands again.

“If it helps, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he kept talking, “you won’t hurt me, or damage anything. In fact, you can actively try to hit me if you want. Imagine I’m someone you hate!”

His dimpled grin made it hard to imagine him as an enemy you would enjoy frying with lightning. Focussing again on the non-existent feeling in your arms and hands, you tried to come up with some sort of motivation.

Your first thought was Bolt.

You had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough for him to rule your life out as insignificant. The single thoughtless shock of blue could well have ended your life – nearly did.

A sharp flicker of heat made your eyes fly open. At the same moment, an exclamation from Namjoon.

For a split second, blue had bloomed in your palms, but it had slipped away before you could grasp it.

“That was good,” he encouraged, “a bit longer next time.”

Breathing heavily, you shut your eyes again, the sensation more present in your mind now. Your anger at Bolt had helped, but the memory was so fleeting it couldn’t sustain the feeling.

Taking a steadying breath, you straightened your arms in front of you. You wanted to do this. Strangely, the next face that cropped up was that of Jungkook. Glaring whenever he saw you, he seemed to resent your presence.

Maybe he didn’t want you there? Didn’t think you belonged?

You would show him. You wanted to do this. If you could control your powers, he would have no reason to look down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you looked the inevitable pain right in the face, challenging it to come out.

Like a floodgate opening, you felt a heat expand in your chest, energy flowing down your arms. When your eyes opened, they were met with a beam of light as it exploded out from your hands.

Without noticing it, your jaw had dropped. The bright blue light you had so quickly come to despise spilled confidently from open palms. Very quickly, the discomfort of electricity in your veins faded, nothing a but a slight warmth to indicate your power.

Around you, you vaguely noticed a deep red glow hanging in the air. Made of light, the cage-like structure stretched from the floor and was containing the lightning you were creating.

On the other side of it, Namjoon stood unharmed, your power dissipating, melting in mid-air before it could harm him.

“Stop,” he now told you, voice slightly raised.

Blinking as spots bleached themselves into your vision, you tore your eyes from the light that had hypnotised you. How did you make it stop?

“Make the feeling go away,” Namjoon said, “the opposite of what you just did. You control these powers.”

You didn’t exactly feel that was true. Arms beginning to tremble, you desperately scrambled to shut it off. It felt warm, so you tried to think of cold, creeping up your arms…

The beams of light sputtered.

Breathing in, you clenched your fists around the power. You could tell it was stemming from your chest, and tried to focus on shutting it off. It felt much like swimming upstream, counter-intuitive as you had to forcefully reign in the feeling that suddenly felt natural.

Holding your breath, you screwed your eyes shut.

Your powers pushed back, wanting to be free. But you dug your heels in, getting the odd sensation that you were backed up against a door that didn’t want to shut.

But the warmth was receding, the stream of energy down your arms thinning.

Namjoon was repeating your name. You had to stop.

All at once, like a candle blown out, the light was gone. All the heat snuffed out, the barrier in your chest blockaded.

Gasping, you fell forwards, stumbling until your arms braced against the desk. Before now you hadn’t noticed the sweat breaking out on your forehead, nor the exertion making you heave for breath.

The red cage dissolved around you, a flash of crimson dying in Namjoon’s eyes.

“Good, well done,” he was saying, a chair being thrust under you. Sinking gladly into it, you still leaned heavily on the table.

“That was good,” he repeated, a glass of water making its way into your hand, “I won’t make you do more now. But it was a start.”

Panting, you raised your eyes as you lifted the glass to your lips. The water was welcome since you felt like you had just run the length of the city. Wrangling your powers to your will was difficult, but you didn’t know what you had expected.

A sharp chime rang out.

Starting, you saw Namjoon’s gaze snap to the tabletop, where a screen had lit up. A small circle and a name popped up, but he swiped it quickly away, the screen’s light dying the next second.

But you frowned. You could have sworn that said-

“Apologies,” he spoke, standing up, “business calls. Is it alright if you rest outside? You can find your way back when you’re ready. We have no more demands to make of you for a while.”

And so you followed him to the door, being left alone soon after.

You looked each way down the plain corridor outside. Letting a breath out, you resolved to at least find a seat before collapsing with exhaustion, so you set off, feeling a little lost. So far you hadn’t really been left alone here, always being shown the way.

But it was simple enough, only a straight path to the large training room you had already seen.

It was emptier now. Someone was evidently still training as you could hear noise, but it came from out of sight in one of the adjoining spaces. Otherwise, the place was now deserted, leaving you free to sink onto the nearest bench.

Limbs feeling a little shaky, you gladly took the weight off them and slumped back against the wall.

You were unsure how long you spent staring into space, catching your breath. That had been tiring, so much effort expended for relatively little result. You supposed you should be proud that you had achieved some level of control over the powers, but you still felt no safer. If they were to surge again, you were no closer to being able to hold them off with any ease, nor to summon them.

The only thing you were sure of was that the energy from breakfast had quickly been chased away, and the prospect of ever getting up again was distinctly unappealing.

“Hey!”

The cheery call pulled you from your thoughts. At some point the sounds from the next room had ceased, outside your notice, and now Hope was walking from the training room.

Having seen you, he changed course and was heading your way. The sight of his sweat-soaked hair and reddened face reassured you for a moment – you weren’t the only one tired. But this only comforted you for a split second before you remembered the sorts of stunts he had been doing, while you had only half succeeded in your beginner attempt.

“First training session?” he asked, thousand-watt grin never fading.

“If you could call it training,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Ah, you’ll be great in no time!” As he drew up to you, you finally mustered the strength to stand up, joining him to a clap on the shoulder. Taking in your dejected state, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Tiring tho, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I know what you need! Some good food will pick you right up.”

You couldn’t say you disagreed, and put all your remaining energy into getting up the stairs and to the kitchen while Hobi talked on happily.

“I’ll get us something,” he told you once you were there.

Infinitely grateful for his offer, you slid into the closest seat and resisted the urge to face-plant the table. Instead you leaned on your elbows, watching idly as he grabbed plates from the cupboards.

“Ah! Y/N! How was it?”

A new addition rushed to the kitchen, familiar pink hair approaching as Jimin took a seat beside you. You looked back into a bright smile as he sat expectant.

Laughing drily, you looked at the countertop.

“I don’t think I’m a natural.”

Tilting his head, he pouted a little at your response and lifted a hand to rub your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s always tough to start with,” he nodded, “but the beginning is the hardest. Don’t push yourself.”

“Yeah, we can’t all be Jungkook,” Hobi laughed. He returned to the table with two plates of sandwiches, pushing one under your nose. Jimin quickly turned his attention to pout at Hope, who rolled his eyes and shoved the other plate towards the pink-haired boy before returning to prepare another for himself.

As desperate as you had been a moment ago for some food, your curiosity was piqued.

““Be Jungkook”? What do you mean?”

“Our golden youngest,” Jimin explained, taking a large bite of his meal before adding, “for more than one reason.”

“It’s seriously unfair,” Hobi spoke over his shoulder, “the kid can do anything he sets his mind to. Best pupil Joon’s ever had.”

Shutting your mouth, you sank a little in your chair. Jimin was buried in his sandwich, and Hobi in the kitchen, leaving you to pick at your own plate. But you only bit your lip. So Jungkook was some kind of prodigy?

You sighed, neglecting your food entirely. It made you feel even worse about your terrible performance and lack of skill. And here you were, thinking that you would be able to prove yourself to the man who seemed to hate you.

Only when a flickering light distracted you did you look up from your hopelessness.

The kitchen light blinked off entirely for a brief moment, returning to reveal Hobi whirling around with a shout.

“That’s my lunch! Make your own, this is already my second try!”

Frowning, you looked around trying to spot who Hope was berating. Nothing.

While you sat perplexed, the blond suddenly leapt across your vision, jumping high enough to hop from the kitchen table and towards the sofa. As he landed, another figure became abruptly visible, falling as if emerging from a patch of shadow.

Beside you, Jimin guffawed loudly as you gaped. Hobi had knocked the mysterious figure from seemingly thin air, and now deftly swept a plate of sandwiches from their hands, the whole while straddling them to keep them pinned on the sofa cushions.

“Nice try!”

A muffled ‘get off’ accompanied flailing arms, vague attempts at whacking their attacker.

Heaving himself from the couch, Hobi walked victorious to the counter and began, at last, to eat. Behind him, a white-haired young man sat up, ruffling his dishevelled hair as a hood fell from his head.

He turned around with a sheepish smile, shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Be gentle, Hob-ah,” he grumbled on his way past, though there was no malice behind it.

Hobi only laughed loudly in return, turning as the white-haired man came past and playfully hit at his shoulder.

“You’re all brats!” Hope claimed loudly, waving half a sandwich in the air. He was laughing so hard you were concerned for a moment he would fall clean off the chair.

As yet, the new man hadn’t noticed your blatant staring. Luckily, your attention was diverted before he could see your saucer-like eyes. Unluckily, it was diverted by the entrance of a certain Jungkook.

Jimin had been the first to stop laughing. Looking around, you became aware of the tall figure hanging back in the shadows on the other side of the living room.

The raucous joy that had filled the kitchen froze over very quickly as the other occupants noticed him. Cold, piercing eyes scanned over the space, but undeniably landed on you. Struck dumb, you merely stared back as his calculating gaze bored into you.

Setting his jaw, his gaze snapped away, fleeting over the rest of the room for a moment before he turned and left.

Sliding from his chair, Jimin dropped his remaining lunch back onto his plate.

“Jungkook-” he called, shoulders drooping when there was no response. With a sigh he followed after the younger man.

You watched him go, and then watched the empty doorway he had left through. When at last you turned slowly back to the kitchen, Hoseok sent you a grimace.

“Sorry it’s taking him a while to warm up,” he said, as if that was consolation. It didn’t seem as if Jungkook was trying to ‘warm up’ to you at all.

You produced no reply, but were saved the trouble as the white-haired man joined you. For the first time, he looked at you, eyes roaming over your face, still surely littered with scrapes from the previous night.

“You look better than yesterday,” he commented.

You blinked.

“I’m sorry… have we met?”

“Yoongi,” he nodded, sinking onto a chair. Then, “you should eat that.”

That had hardly explained anything, but you complied anyway, picking up your food. Once you had finally finished your sandwich, the quiet was disrupted by Namjoon entering. Nodding once at you, he headed across to the kitchen.

Seeing him again, you were reminded of the ‘business’ call that had taken him from you earlier on. Eyes lingering on his back as he busied himself grabbing a mug and plate from the cupboards, your curiosity swelled within you. You were sure you had seen who was calling him. Though your life before Bolt – and all that happened since – seemed so distant, you couldn’t help your keen interest.

On the edge of your seat, you chewed on your lip until you couldn’t hold it any more.

“How’s Kuyang?” you blurted.

The others’ eyes snapped to you. Namjoon froze.

Slowly, he turned around, faint frown lining his face. You never dropped his questioning stare.

“He’s… fine,” he spoke.

“Sorry,” Hope looked lost, “you know Kuyang?”

Before you could do more than nod, Yoongi spoke up too.

“He’s fine? How did he get away from Bolt?”

“That’s not important.” Namjoon strode across the kitchen, “but how do you know Kuyang?”

“I was his secretary.”

You had hoped your honesty might prompt Namjoon to reciprocate, but no such luck. His reason for involvement with Kuyang was promptly forgotten. Hobi gasped at your news; Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly as if something was dawning on him.

But Namjoon beat him to it.

“That explains why you were hit by Bolt,” he said.

“We thought you were just a bystander that got unlucky,” Hobi chipped in.

Just as you opened your mouth to return to your original question, Namjoon turned away from the table. Swiping his food from the counter, he marched away.

Halfway across the room, he paused with a look over his shoulder. Maybe he would give in and tell you at last?

“I suggest you rest,” he told you instead, “Jungkook is going to help you practise some more tomorrow.”

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Moments Shared

Summary: You and Ari share a moment during a lazy afternoon...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Fluff & Schmoop, Light Smut, Secrets, Discussions of Imaginary Friends, Brief Mention of Pyromania, Light Fingering, Ass Slapping, Mentions of Spanking, Mentions of Restraints, Love Songs, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread but not beta'd. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“Bird?”

“Mm?” You look up from your place sprawled across Ari’s chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat having almost lulled you to sleep after yet another lazy bout of lovemaking.

The perfect activity for a quiet Sunday afternoon.

“Tell me something.” The easy rasp of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it. “About you.” He absentmindedly runs his knuckles up and down your arms, marveling at the trail of goosebumps he leaves behind in his wake.

“Um, what do you wanna know?” You press a soft kiss against his pec, the soft hairs adorning his skin tickling your nose.

The bounty hunter takes a moment to think. “Anything.” He finally responds, as if he had weighed his options and decided he was better off not pressing his luck. So he’d settled on accepting whatever it was you deigned to share with him. And he’d be damned grateful for it. “Whatever you wanna tell me.”

“I guess I’m just not sure don’t what to say.” Of their own accord, he wraps one of your curls around a thick finger, tugging playfully.

“Okay then, how ‘bout I start?”

“...Alright.” You roll onto your side, propping your chin up with your hand. “Take away then, Levinson. Or do you need me to do a drum roll so – eep!” You let out a squeal when he swats at your hip.

“Mind the sass, woman.” Ari grunts, although the teasing quirk of his lips makes it known that he’s only joking.

“Such a Beast.” You stick out your tongue at him, earning yourself another swat from your man.

“And don’t you forget it.” He reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours, stroking the pad of his thumb across your palm. “Now, stop trying to make me lose focus while I think of a secret to share.”

“Oh...we’re telling secrets now, are we?” Well, that certainly upped the stakes a bit.

“Of course.” Ari presses a swift kiss to your clasped hands. “Nothing too heavy, baby. Just our deepest and darkest.” He winks then, chuckling when you try to pull away. “Hey–I was kidding. C’mere and settle down.”

“Fine.” You blow out a breath as you shift under the blankets. “Let’s hear it then. And you’d better wow me.” You affectionately boop his nose. “I won’t be held responsible for your self-esteem if you bore me to sleep.”

Your bounty hunter sighs before tucking an arm behind his head. He’s quiet for a moment as he mulls over his words. But you don’t make any move to antagonize him further. If he was in the mood to share then who were you to stop him?

“I…had a dog named Bacon growing up.” He muses before clearing his throat. “It, uh, kinda looked like a cross between a Bernese Mountain Dog and Beethoven.”

“The composer or St. Bernard?” You tease, lightly poking him the ribs.

“St. Bernard. Forgot the name ‘til just now.”

“Well, that must have been interesting. Never heard of that mix before.” You tell him truthfully, suddenly confused when you feel him tense beneath you.

“He was three hundred pounds with a white lightning bolt that streaked across his left hip.”

Now, that part of his admission gives you serious pause. You pull back, cocking your head to the side as you wait for him to continue.

“Sometimes he talked. Fella had the coolest British accent.” Ari stares up at the ceiling, his eyes glazing over as he watches the fan overhead go round and round. “Although he didn’t eat much considering his size.”

“Ari…” What in the ever loving canine capers was he talking about?

“It’s funny…” He chuckles, his big body vibrating with mirth. “Because his favorite foods were chocolate cake, brussel sprouts, and green peas. Now, I love the first one but can’t rightfully stand the other two. And I know they say about dogs and chocolate…”

“...Makes them sick.” You mumble, wondering where he was headed with this bizarre fever dream of a recollection.

“But Bacon loved it.” He continues, almost as if you hadn’t spoken. “He and I went on so many amazing adventures. Best imaginary dog a boy could ever have.”

“I’m sorry.” You wheeze as you let out the puff of air you’d been holding without realizing it. “What?”

“He wasn’t real, Bird. But he was the closest thing I ever got to an imaginary friend. Or a pet for that matter.” Ari flashes you a toothy grin. “Ma didn’t mind too much because it meant I stopped pestering her about adopting every stray mutt we saw wandering down the side of the road.”

“But you said…wait…” You felt like you were about to short circuit.

“Baby.” Your man’s face is serious as he leans over to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the apple of your cheek. “Dogs don’t talk. I mean, not with words anyway. And definitely not with British accents. Be sure to make that note when you’re writing about this in your diary tonight.”

“Oh, screw you!” A laugh bursts from his chest when you push him away. The smug bastard clearly thought he was funny. “For your information, I thought you might’ve suffered some kind psychotic break. Asshole.” Balling up your fist, you land a solid blow to his kidney.

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Ari coos once his laughter finally fades. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Me, my Ma, and my two sisters. Never stayed in one place for too long. Things tended to get pretty lonely at times, so I made up Bacon to cope.”

His voice dips as he moves closer so that he can rest his forehead against yours. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my buddy, B, in damn near twenty years, save for you. Is that okay?”

And just like that you can practically feel your heart melting.

You swallow thickly as you break away, giving yourself time to respond. “It is. Thank you for sharing with me.” Ari gives you a cursory nod which also signals that it’s now your turn. Great.

“I…might’ve been a bit of a firebug growing up.” A shiver courses through you, which is odd considering the fact that you’re not the least bit cold. “Something about the way the flames danced and all that.”

“Is that right?” His tone lets you know that he’s intrigued.

“Yep.” The word flops out of your mouth. “God, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. You might arrest me.” You cover your face with your hands before peeking at him from between your fingers. “Can I please have a minute to google the statute of limitations for the State of Texas?”

The lawman’s unexpected snort has you giggling. “From here on out, anything you share with me while I’ve got you naked in my bed will be considered off the record.”

“Okay, well – wait.” You cast him a suspicious glance, your face still partially obscured. “You promise?”

Grinning, Ari surprises you by holding up his hand and offering you his pinky finger. “I have a five-year-old niece who assures me these kinds of agreements are legally binding.”

“Alright.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you find yourself reaching out to wrap your corresponding digit around his. “But just to be safe, let me see you cross your heart.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gives a rueful shake of his head before complying. “But I draw the line at sticking a needle in my eye.”

“Duly noted.” Needing to stretch your languid muscles, you decide to take a second to arch your back, revealing bare breasts to Ari’s gaze. And while he doesn’t say anything, you can’t help but notice how his wandering fingers appear all too eager to pull it down even further until it’s draped across your hips.

“I’m still listening.” Ari assures you even as his pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Just didn’t want you to overheat.”

“How thoughtful of you.” You respond, rolling your eyes. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to notice since he’s too busy tracing abstract designs along your pouting nipples. “Shall I continue?”

“Please do.” He rasps as his pupils dilate with desire.

“As I was saying, I used to be a bit of a firebug. And I…” You’re forced to bat his hands away so that you can attempt to concentrate on your story. “Well, one time a couple of us kids got our hands on some industrial grade firecrackers. The “good shit” as they say. This boy - Curtis – he bought ‘em from his cousin, Rudy. He claimed they fell off a truck on its way to Dallas.”

“Curtis. Rudy. Dallas. Got it.” A stubborn Ari goes back to toying with your breast. “Feel free to keep going.”

“I mean it, Ari. These weren’t just any ordinary firecrackers we’re talking about.” Your eyes go big as the memory overtakes you. “These were special. The name on the box read The Devil’s Anus.”

Ari whistles low, the unusually graphic name briefly jolting him out of his reverie. “Well, that certainly paints an image.”

“Uh huh. I can still see that box like it happened yesterday. And for all the trouble it caused, it definitely was a product of Satan. Anyway, me and some of the neighborhood kids thought it would be a good idea to sneak out in the middle of night to set ‘em off. So we rode our bikes to this field on the outskirts of town to put on a little show. Mind you, this was right after the Fourth of July.”

“Mmhm.” Now his fingers have moved to fiddle with the edge of the sheet. Knowing him, he was probably seconds from kicking it off the bed. He didn’t like keeping your naked body hidden for too long.

“Ari, would you quit it?” Again you try to fend him off, and again it does almost nothing. “Anyway, I always carried matches with me for moments like that. And so we start lettin’ ‘em fly one by one. And it was flippin’ awesome, you hear me? But they were also really, really loud too.”

“Suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, my little pyro.”

“Well, none of us had really accounted for the noise. And not only that, but those things shoot far. One went rogue and we ended up losing sight of it behind this abandoned barn across the clearing and…” A loaded sigh escapes your lips. “The next thing we knew, the whole thing went up in flames.”

“Holy shit.” Ari blinks, now fully invested in your tale one more. “What’d you do?”

“It all happened so fast. We turned tail and raced back to town. Peddled our bikes home as fast as we could, ducking in the bushes whenever the police or the fire department whizzed by. God, I was terrified. I mean, thankfully they were able to extinguish the fire before it did too much damage but…” You trail off, allowing your bounty hunter to fill in the blanks for himself.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that the perpetrators were never apprehended?” Ari quirks one tawny brow as he watches your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip.

“Correct. And I prayed every night for three months straight, hoping against hope that it would stay that way. God did his part and in exchange for His grace, I never touched another match ever again. To this day, I even get nervous lighting the occasional candle.”

Finished, you give into the temptation to bury your face in his chest while you wait for him to say something – anything – about your revelation. You’d never told a soul about what happened that night. You and your little crew had sworn to go to your graves with the knowledge you’d almost started what could’ve easily turned into a pretty devastating fire.

People went to jail for that shit.

“Say something already.” You eventually whine, hating the sound of silence the longer it lasts. “Please, Beast.”

“It’s just…” You feel a hand come to rest on your lower back. “After all this time, it’s just wild to know I’ve been sleeping with a fugitive from justice.”

Your head snaps up as you watch him snicker, your eyes narrowing into menacing slits. “You had better not breathe a word of this to anyone or I will end you.” You grip his face, squishing it between your fingers. “Just because we’re a couple hundred miles out from the ocean doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself at the bottom of it. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” He confirms through pursed lips.

“Thank you.” Comes your demure reply, which has you sounding every inch the southern belle. And then you release him, all the while struggling not to react at the way he dramatically wiggles his jaw.

“Never been more turned on in my life.” Ari growls as he palms his growing erection through the thin sheet. “I’m not usually the type to get my rocks off at the threat of bodily harm but…I just might have to let you tie me up one of these days.”

Immediately your eyes light up at the prospect of your bounty hunter finally letting you be in charge. Your gaze flits towards the direction of his pants, wondering if he maybe had his cuffs stuffed in one of his back pockets.

You knew without a doubt that you could have a lot of fun with those shiny metal restraints he seemed to cherish so much.

“That was a maybe.” The man at your side is quick to amend. “So don’t you go getting any ideas just yet.” His imperious tone has you pouting before he’s even finished his sentence.

“Hmph.” You cross your arms over your chest, purposely pushing up your breasts. “Then I guess I’m done sharing.”

“Aww, c’mon now, Duchess. Don’t go cold on me.” Ari nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his freshly trimmed beard tickling the skin along your pulse point.

“Nope. I’m done and – ooh!” You cry out when he repositions himself so that he can pull one of your nipples into his mouth, his warm tongue expertly swirling over the pebbled tip. He sucks hard, moaning against your flesh.

“But I’ve still got lots more secrets to tell.” He purrs, his hand creeping between your bodies in search of something a little more…delicate. His favorite part of you that he claimed was always so soft and sweet.

“Well, I suppose that’s just t–too bad.” You croak out when his skilled fingers make contact with your slippery folds, causing your hips to arch. “I’m not interested.”

“Liar.” Ari teases, shifting his big body so that he can focus on your sensitive clit. “I’ve never let a woman tie me up before. So maybe give me a little time to warm up to the prospect of restraints. It might even help if you let me do the honors first, hm?”

“Then go get them.” You hiss, nipping at his jaw.

“When I’m good and damned ready.” He snarls back before slanting his mouth over yours, his tongue sweeping its way past your lips to duel with your own. “Fucking brat.” Ari takes his time exploring every inch, every corner. And when he feels your body go lax in submission, he knows he finally has you exactly where he wants you.

Or so he thinks anyway.

“So what if I am?” You cup his face with your hands, drawing him even closer so that he’s on top of you. Not wanting to be without him for even a second longer. “You like it.” You allow your teeth to graze over his plump bottom lip. Once. Twice. Sucking it into your mouth before releasing it with a slight pop.

“Maybe I do.” This time his growl rumbles deep in his chest. “But if I ever hear about you playing with firecrackers again, I promise to light your ass up somethin’ pretty.”

“You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Of its own accord, your hand comes down on Ari’s muscled butt with a resounding smack.

“Did you just…spank me?” He asks, surprise evident in his tone.

Oops.

“I did. And I’ll even let you in on a little secret while I’m at it.” You confirm without even a hint of remorse as you reach out to stroke the pads of your fingers along the veined edge of his impressive cock, loving the way he responds to your touch. “I’m probably gonna do it again.”

You offer him an impish grin, which he eagerly returns. “Try it and I’ll see to it that my handprint is permanently tattooed on that sexy ass of yours.”

“But what if I’m still a little tender from earlier?” You try, delighting in the way your gruff bounty hunter switches from faux indignation to genuine concern in less than a heartbeat.

“Are you?” His nostrils flare as he waits for your answer while his big hands skim their way down your body, checking you over. Looking for any sign that you might need more time before going another round.

“Not really.” You tell him as you guide him back down to your weeping pussy. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do. See if you’d be okay with taking it easy if that’s what I needed from you.” Your gaze locks with his at that moment, your eyes searching his cerulean depths for any sign of irritation or annoyance – of which you find none.

“You wanna know a secret, my fierce little Bird?” Ari murmurs, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear. “Let me know when you’re ready.” You shudder when you feel his sharp teeth gently nibble your delicate lobe.

“I’m ready.” You respond, sounding more than a little breathless. But even so, your hands find their way to the globes of his ass once again, squeezing in warning.

“I can’t wait for the day when I finally see you wearing nothing but my cuffs. And then I’ll show you just how good it can feel to give yourself to me. But I can sense that we’re not quite there yet, you and I, so – hush and let me finish please.” He pins you with a knowing look when you open your mouth to interrupt. It falls shut without a word. And then Ari moves to straddle your waist before pinning your arms above your head.

“So we’re gonna give it a little more time. Time for me to prove to you that I’m the man you need every day of the goddamned week.” He leans down to capture your lips in a brief, but meaningful kiss. Leaving you stunned.

“But that’s not my secret. At least not really. The real secret is that ever since I laid eyes on you, I've spent almost every damn day whistling love songs like an idiot. Now, I’m gonna be honest. I hated it at first. Because in my experience, it’s kinda difficult to feel like you’re the biggest, baddest motherfucker walking around on two legs if you’re too busy humming "Just My Imagination" under your breath to remember to glare when it's appropriate.”

“I’m so sorry. But for what it’s worth…” You shimmy in his hold, loving the hungry look that swiftly flits across his handsome features. “Assuming that I’m allowed to speak now, that is.”

“Be my guest, brat.”

“For what it’s worth…I might have a whole playlist dedicated to your overbearing ass.” You feel your cheeks heat. But you’re not embarrassed by your admission. If Ari could be vulnerable, then perhaps you could too. “One that I may or may not listen to on my way to and from the shop every day.”

Ari swallows the lump in throat, his entire body momentarily overcome with emotion. You really have no idea how happy you just made him.

“You still thinking about flying away on me, Bird?” He asks, shifting his grip on your wrists so that grab a hold of your chin.

“Falling for you is more like it.” Your spoken secret comes out barely above a whisper. “But don’t let that go to your head or anything.”

Because you still weren’t quite sure if you were prepared to survive the landing. Only time would tell.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” He smiles down at you, his eyes brimming with affection. “But…if you ever feel yourself falling too fast…can you at least promise to let me catch you?”

A beat goes by before you hold up your pinky finger, which he readily locks with his own. It makes your heart melt all over again.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Beast.”

Famous last words. If only you’d known what Fate had in store for you, then perhaps you would’ve made a promise that was easier to keep. Because you’d never been the type to gamble on anything or anyone. Not men. Not love. Because you’d already learned the hard way that that kind of shit was never a sure thing. But heartbreak…

Now that one always seemed to be waiting for you just around the corner no matter where you looked. And deep down, you were convinced that it was only a matter of time before it found you again.

END

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daechwitatamic · 7 months

Text

Of Ruin: Chapter 14 | KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕 Also thank you to @casuallyimagining for looking over these fight scenes for me!

Section Warnings: language, angst, uhhh fighting and explicit violence, blood and injury, tense situations with dangerous vampires, uhhhhh multiple murders wc: 6.3k

“You are not supposed to be here.”

“I left,” you admit, sagging into one of the worn chairs and letting your head fall into your hands. It’s late now, nearing dinner time, and you know Dr. Kim would normally be leaving. “I can go home. I meant to go home. But I left there and started walking and… ended up here.”

He regards you for a long minute. Then, as if he’s made a decision, he sits across from you. You’ve been just like this many times - he behind his desk, you across from it, working out a curse or a class-schedule - but it feels different this time.

You’re so ashamed you can barely stomach it.

You’ve never run away from anything in your life, not like this.

You explain it all, you leave nothing out. The dangers you faced, the mistakes and missteps. The way you learned what you really are, and began learning how to do something with it. How you’d slowly worked the curse to a tipping point. How you’d slowly fallen in love with Prince Taehyung, how you’d thought he felt the same.

But Taehyung throwing around words like Queen… it feels like too much. It feels like something you shouldn’t have, don’t deserve, haven’t earned. It feels like a trick or a trap, and you ran scared like a little bunny.

You tell him all of it.

When you’re done, you watch his ancient face for signs of what he’s going to say, if he’s going to chastise you for letting a job get so out of control.

You take in his expression and your heart sinks.

“You’re going to tell me I have to go back, aren’t you?” you lament, shoulders slumping.

“No, my dear,” Dr. Kim says kindly. “I’m going to tell you to go home.”

“Home?” you echo. “What, you mean, like… go home and sleep on it?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Go home. To your family.”

—

Dr. Kim had never really understood the way things were with you and your family. You forgave him for it long ago - he clearly had a very different situation. You’ve learned that even more in the past few months spent with his grandson. But even though you know how pointless his advice is… you follow it anyway.

It’s a long train ride to your hometown, and you spend it pressed to the window, watching the backsides of buildings flash by until they give way to the greens and browns of the countryside.

You think about what you might say. You think about what your parents might say back.

You try to remember the last time you’d even spoken, before your assignment to Infracticus, and you can’t recall.

You spent last night alone in your apartment. It had felt all wrong, somehow - like it belonged to someone else. It occurred to you, as you’d walked through your living room, a hand trailing absently over the knickknacks and clutter, that you hadn’t missed any of these things while you’d been gone.

You’d slept fitfully, with the lights on, bolting upright every time you heard footsteps in the hall.

You walk from the train station; the season has turned in the time you’ve been gone, and the air is biting and cold, stinging your face and the inside of your nose. You slip your hands inside your sleeves, wishing you’d grabbed a heavier coat on your way out the door.

You stop a few houses down, leaning against an old, wooden fence. You watch your childhood home silently, rubbing absently at your chill-bitten nose.

You imagine going up and knocking on the door - because it’s been nearly a decade since the days you were comfortable just breezing in and out of their home. You imagine sitting down at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea between your frozen fingers, heating up by degrees. Imagine telling your parents, yes, I’ve been on assignment, actually. In Infracticus.

You imagine your father joking, I’m surprised you didn’t find a way to stay.

That’s exactly what you’d done, without even meaning to.

Is this visit supposed to be goodbye? Is it an attempt to ask for their blessing? How can you expect that - of any parent? How can you walk into their house, uninvited, and ask them to tell you goodbye?

Even if it isn’t forever - even if you can promise visits, regular communication - how can you expect anything like the permission you seek? It isn’t fair of you to even ask.

You stand in the cold and think to yourself that maybe you’re best off just leaving things how they are. Maybe keeping them from the truth is better for them.

Because this is what you’ve figured out, the knowledge you’re grappling with: regardless of Taehyung’s feelings for you… you’re going to ask him to turn you.

Even if he doesn’t love you, even if he doesn’t want you to rule with him, you’re going to walk away from your mortality.

The curse calls for the end of a life, and so your mortal life will end.

What happens after - with Taehyung - remains to be seen, it’s true. But you’d been wrestling with this question for days: would you be willing to give up your mortal life to save his immortal one?

Dr. Kim had heard the indecision threaded through your story, and had sent you here, knowing you needed clarity.

And it worked - everything is very clear as you stand alone on the street you grew up on, knowing there’s no place for you here.

You’d never built anything here. You hardly had anything to say goodbye to. No friends were blowing up your phone wondering where you’d been. Your parents didn’t even know you had gone in the first place. Even the university, your job, had simply slipped another professor into your place.

But Infracticus… Taehyung… those things fit.

You’d felt it in the way your magic slipped into the cracks of his, how they fused together easily, perfect counterparts.

You’d felt it in the way you could exist together quietly with the waves of the sea crashing just ahead of you.

You’d felt it in the way his hand wrapped around yours, the way he tried to stay a step ahead of you, moving obstacles out of your way.

You’d felt it in his heavy, hooded gaze, in his mouth against your skin, in his useless heartbeat against yours.

You fit next to him. Maybe - with time, with him - you could build something. In fact, you could build a lot of things. If his vision of the future really came to be, you could do a lot, could play a real part in creating something good, something lasting.

All you’d ever done here was daydream about a world you had no place in.

You’ll have a place there now - either leading at Taehyung’s side, or existing under his rule. Neither seems like a bad option.

It doesn’t feel real. But neither did any of it, at first. If things go how you plan, you’ll have plenty of time to adjust.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and check the train schedule, turning on your heel and heading back the way you came.

Unlike when you left Taehyung, you don’t look back. There’s no reason to.

—

You get back to the city in the early afternoon, and you go directly to the university. Dr. Kim looks up calmly when you enter his office, and simply says, “That was faster than I expected.”

You snort, the tension breaking, and he shuffles some papers as you take your usual chair.

“Well?” he asks, not looking up.

“I think you already know,” you say flatly, but he doesn’t hear you, because the sound of your voice is drowned by heavy footsteps and frantic knocking on the already-open door.

Dr. Kim’s eyes twinkle when he spots whoever is behind you, and you whirl in your chair, jaw dropping.

It’s, of course, Prince Taehyung, but he’s flanked by Satuel and Namjoon. All three of them are in jeans, and the sight of the prince dressed like one of the students here would make you laugh out loud if you weren’t so shocked by their presence.

He steps through the doorway, frowning deeply, eyes on you, and says, darkly, “I didn’t fake anything.”

As if this sentence has been itching to burst from him since you laid the accusation at his feet two nights ago, as if he couldn’t take his next breath until he refuted the very idea.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, standing.

“Come in, come in,” Dr. Kim says urgently, “and close that door before someone sees you.”

Maybe someone closes the door. Maybe they leave it open. Maybe a tornado rips through the room and carries everyone else away. You don’t know, because all you can see is Taehyung’s dark eyes, shining with emotion as he chokes out, “How could you just leave?”

“I had some things I needed to figure out,” you murmur.

He steps closer to you, filling the space, and reaches for your hands. “I never faked a thing,” he repeats, like this is the line he rehearsed. “I tried to explain, but you left so fast. My father may have told me he wanted me to pursue you, but all of it was real. I didn’t care about your magic or what you could bring to the family - I just wanted you.”

And, well, you’ve known that all along. But it’s nice to hear him say it.

Your eyes find the floor, head full of all the other things you two need to talk about. “Okay,” you say quietly.

“Okay?” he parrots, an edge to it. “Okay what? Okay, you’ll come back?”

You look up, but not at Taehyung. You look at Namjoon, and then over your shoulder at Dr. Kim. “I have to go back,” you say. “I figured out what we have to do to break the curse for real.”

—

You hate the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you in the crowded room, but now that everyone is settled in and ready to listen, you have no choice but to speak.

“Namjoon is the death magic expert,” you say, shooting him a little sideways glance. “So, chime in if something seems off. But I was looking at what we have… and reading similar cases… and I think we tried to get around the life for a life counter too quickly.”

“No,” Taehyung says immediately. “We’re not ending a life -”

You hold up a hand, silencing him. “It’s not your decision to make,” you say evenly.

His face contorts. “What are you talking about? Of course it is.”

You shake your head. “It’s mine. We’ll end my life - my mortal life.”

You have to clarify it twice to be heard over the outroar. Taehyung damn near stomps his foot with his cry of protest, and Dr. Kim has risen to his feet. Even Satuel looks struck, her eyes uncharacteristically wide.

“You mean,” Namjoon says slowly, the first one to piece together what you’re saying, “you’ll turn?”

You watch his face carefully for any hints at what he’s thinking, how he feels about this news. “It would work, right?” you ask, even though you’re about ninety-two percent sure on your own. “It’ll count as a life ending? Technically?”

He shoots a nervous look at Prince Taehyung, and then at his grandfather, like he’s not sure which one of them will be more infuriated by his answer. “I… I think it should, yes.”

To your right, Taehyung says your name, voice strangled. “That’s the plan?” he asks, as if begging for someone to tell him he’s got it wrong. “I have to turn you during the counter-curse to satisfy the end of life thread?”

You hold his gaze, your stomach knotting, your throat tightening until you can barely breathe. “Will you?” you ask, the words paper-thin.

He shakes his head, but it doesn’t seem like he’s saying no. “And then what?” he demands. “Have you thought about what this would mean?”

“Extensively,” you say flatly.

He looks around the room for help, his expression stricken. None comes.

“You can’t,” he says, imploring. “There are so many things that could go wrong - what if there’s some kind of attack, and I die? What if my father refuses to pass over the crown, and throws us in jail for trying? What if it does go as I’ve planned, but I go to trial and I’m found guilty for what happened the first night of the curse?”

You hear exactly what he’s really asking - What if you give up your entire life here and it turns out to be for nothing?

You frown. “Taehyung, you can’t live your life based on the worst-case scenario. Maybe none of those things will happen. But even if they do… don’t think that my turning has a… a price that you have to fulfill. I’m not turning just so I can be with you.”

His face goes blank. Before you can process what you’ve done wrong, Namjoon beans you in the forehead with an eraser off his grandfather’s desk.

“Say that better,” he instructs.

“Ow!” you protest, but the distraction helps you catch up to the moment. You meet Taehyung’s eyes even as you bend down to pick the eraser up off the floor. “What I mean is,” you say emphatically, “it doesn’t have to be any kind of commitment. I’ll turn because I want to, and because it will save you, and then… we’ll have time - all the time in the world - to see what comes next. Right?”

Taehyung’s jaw clenches and unclenches as he thinks. He looks around again. “Someone else weigh in here,” he begs, finally. “I can’t agree to this, can I? It’s too much.”

“Maybe we should let you talk alone?” Namjoon suggests, and you look at him, full of gratitude. But, of course, he’s been there all alone, has seen what was happening between you and Taehyung long before you were willing to admit it yourself.

“I’ll take you to the staff room for coffee,” Dr. Kim tells his grandson. “You can catch me up on the situation. But Prince Taehyung’s guard really ought to stay close to him.”

Satuel nods smartly. “I can stand in the hall,” she says, and you fight back a smile, knowing she’s choosing to give you a little privacy.

When they’re gone, Taehyung sags, letting himself sink into the misery of the situation.

“This is not a sacrifice I can allow you to make,” he tells you, eyes round, mouth pulling down unhappily at each corner.

You lean back against Dr. Kim’s desk, considering your words. “It’s not so much of a sacrifice,” you try to explain. “You’d be giving me something, not taking anything away.”

He watches you carefully as he says, “But you couldn’t come back. I mean - for a long time, as you adjust. And then, after, only at certain times, with permission… you’d give up this whole world?”

“Those permitted visits over an immortal life will probably add up to be more time here than I would have had normally,” you point out. “Just not all at once. And maybe, when I come visit… you could come with me?”

He doesn’t speak, just holds your gaze and nods tightly.

You shrug, toying at your bottom lip. “Then that’s already better than what I have now.”

He crosses to you, then, taking you in his arms, and you let him. You allow yourself just one second to be scared and unsure, and then you lean back to look up at him. “I want to do this,” you promise. “No matter what happens after. Even if you decide I’m boring and you fall in love with someone else and -”

He scowls. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” you tease, smiling a little. “Even if the worst happens - whatever version of the worst you want - I still choose this.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he admits. “I don’t know if I can hurt you like that.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promise, though this is the part that’s scary - the turning process. “I’ll be okay, because I know you’ll be there. I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Yes,” he pouts, “but who will take care of me while I’m panicking over you?”

“Namjoon,” you say sagely, pleased when a laugh rips through him, rumbling in his chest.

He sighs. “We’ll be okay?” he asks.

You don’t think he means individually. But you include it in your answer when you squeeze your arms around and say, confidently, “We will. I know we will.”

He leans down to kiss you, softly at first, his lips light against yours. Then, more firmly. You melt against him, happy to be held, happy to be loved, happy to see a solution shimmering in the distance.

“You know,” he says softly, when he pulls away, “I don’t want to add any weight to this… we can see what happens after, like you said. But… I consider you my intended. That’s just… that’s how I feel.”

A shiver runs through you, thrilling and terrifying both at once. “There’s time for that after,” you say, accidentally repeating what Namjoon had told you once. “I promise.”

—

Taehyung and Satuel leave first, though she practically has to drag him.

“Promise you’re following us,” he demands on his way out.

You laugh. “As soon as we nail down this countercurse, we’ll head straight to the Ostium.”

“Don’t even stop for food,” he warns, but you know it’s a joke. Or, partly a joke.

“Not even fries?”

He considers this, then turns to Satuel. “Actually, can we stop for fries?”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You need to be back before midnight.”

This sobers everyone.

“Perhaps for the last time,” you say hopefully.

“Don’t say that if you aren’t sure,” Taehyung says darkly, and then kisses you goodbye, right in front of everyone, like he doesn’t even care.

“I love you,” he says, low, and you feel it down to your toes. “Don’t do anything foolish until you’re back with me.”

“Roger that,” you try to smile.

Satuel and Taehyung disappear down the hallway, so lightning quick that you can’t even watch them walk away.

Dr. Kim goes to start a pot of coffee.

Namjoon gives you a wry, knowing smile, and begins to organize paper and pens.

The three of you work all night, and it’s after four in the morning when you finally sit back, set down your pen, and declare it ready.

—

It’s still before sunrise when you pass through the Ostium, pausing to bandage up your hands after crossing - you were prepared, this time.

It’s clear right away that something is very wrong; not only is Satuel not there to pick you up, as agreed upon before she left, but the Ostium isn’t even manned. The whole building is empty, your footsteps echoing as you cross to the door leading out into Infracticus.

Your heart racing, you turn to look at Namjoon. It’s clear he’s thinking the same thing.

“What the -?” you start, as you step out of the Ostium into the pre-dawn purple. A coach is parked there, a team of amarisca hitched and ready to go.

Beside you, Namjoon shouts, already starting to run. Too late, you see the prone body on the ground, on the other side of the carriage.

“Satuel,” you manage, covering your mouth in horror, as you round the corner and spot her. Namjoon crouches, holding her up. Thick, viscous sangru - what Infracti have instead of blood pumping through their bodies - pools around her, as black as her eyes. It looks like an oil spill around her. You spy a gash on her neck, but there must be more.

“The palace,” she gasps, her wild eyes finding yours. “The prince.”

“Go,” Namjoon instructs. “I’ll stay here, I’ll help her -”

You don’t wait for the rest. You tear around the side of the carriage and start fumbling with the clasps of the first amarisca until it’s free from the rest of the team.

You turn back to where Namjoon is still cradling Satuel’s unmoving body. “The prince has a private stable at the beach,” you call to him frantically. “Get her there - I’ll send help as soon as I can.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, his face drawn and desperate, and you dig your hands deep in the amarisca’s mane and throw a leg over, urging it to move, clinging tightly as it begins its rocking gait over the road leading to the palace doors.

The palace looms in the distance, and you urge the amarisca to go faster, squeezing your calves and whispering pleas, though the latter does nothing for you. It seems like it’s not even getting closer, though the trees stream by you on either side.

Please let him be okay, you think as you frantically ride. It’s almost dawn - he would just be coming out of the curse, any second now. If the palace is under attack, would it be a hindrance or a help for him to be only beast?

Finally, the palace seems to grow in size, looming over you as the road curves around an approach.

You’re knocked from the amarisca’s back so quickly that you don’t have time to register what happened, hitting the ground with an unattractive grunt as all the breath is knocked from your lungs.

“Fuck!” you scream, as soon as you can inhale, pounding a fist against the dirt, because you failed, didn’t even make it to the palace, and now you’re going to die at the hands of some random Infracti, at the side of the road -

“Shut up,” the Infracti hisses, tugging at your arm, and you go limp because you think you might recognize his voice.

“S-Seokjin?” you whimper, turning to see if you’re right. You are, but he doesn’t answer you as he pulls you swiftly away from the road. Now you’re less sure you’re about to die, but it’s unclear.

“Listen,” he says, quietly, tugging you behind some brush and crouching. You follow his lead, eyes wide. “We’ve got about thirty of us infiltrating the castle. Probably a few teams are already in. They’re going after the royal family - that’s their only goal.”

“You’re - what?” you stammer.

“Focus,” he snaps. “I’ll help how I can, but I’m not going to out myself, and neither will Jungkook. Get in there, find Taehyung, and get him out. I don’t care where you go with him - just out of the palace. Don’t worry about the King and Queen, protect Taehyung. Can you do that, witch?”

You nod, unable to speak, mind already flying through your memories of the palace corridors, trying to think of the fastest way to the rooms where Taehyung spends his cursed nights.

“Go,” he urges you, releasing your arm. “I’ll cover your back as best I can until you’re inside.”

“Thanks,” you let out hollowly, taking a steadying breath. And then you run.

—

The first set of doors you come across is locked from inside, but you press your hands to the metal mechanism and call for all the magic you can reach until you hear gears turning, and - finally - a telling click.

You let yourself inside and quickly scan the corridor. It’s deserted - which is honestly a bad sign. The guards are somewhere else, which means there’s already trouble somewhere else.

You jog, making sure to peer around every corner, knowing that if any of the Score soldiers hear your heartbeat or smell your blood it’ll be over before you can even fight it. But there’s not much you can do, and you’ll be safer once you find Taehyung, so you hurry on until you reach the wing where he spends his nights.

You hear voices before you see them, but you round a corner to find a crowd of guards - Taehyung’s guards. He’s standing at the far side of the group, dictating orders. Over their heads, he spots you, does a double take. You watch him close his eyes for the barest second, relief clear on his face, and then he’s waving you over even as he continues speaking to the Infracti closest to him.

“Change of plans,” he’s saying as you approach, breathless. “The ten of you, join that group, get my parents to the safe room.”

“But, Maiesti, that leaves you without -”

“I don’t need you,” he says, sure, looking at you. “Not now that she’s here. My parents are sitting ducks. My venefici can fight with me.”

A few Infracti call out orders, and they separate into three groups, filtering out of the hallway in waves, leaving you and the prince quite alone.

“Did you just send away all of your guards?” you ask, horrified.

“My parents need them more,” he says, tone steely. “I’m not going to run - I’m going to take out as many of them as I can. Will you stay and fight with me? ”

“Taehyung,” you say frantically, trying to break through his resolve and get him to hear you. “They got Satuel - I had Namjoon take her to Potato’s stable, but it looked really bad.”

He stands there, frozen, caught between fighting for his family or saving his trusted guard. You know what choice you’d make, but you wait silently, anxiously shifting from foot to foot, and let him get there by himself.

“Alright,” he says finally, clearly displeased. “Fastest way to the stables is through here.”

—

Taehyung gets what he wants anyway. You hardly get anywhere before stumbling across a pack of the Scores.

They’re ready for you - five of them, all crouched defensively - likely heard your traitorous human heartbeat. But they don’t know who you are; they don’t know what you can do.

You send a blast towards their feet, which knocks three of them onto their backs. Beside you, Taehyung moves like liquid, in a way you’ve never seen before, a dark blur vanishing from your side and reappearing down the corridor, locked hand-in-hand with one of them, snarling viciously as they clash.

You can’t just stand and watch; the second Infracti you’d left standing is zipping towards you, a flash of motion, and you throw a wall up around yourself. He hits it with a sickening crunch before falling to the ground. Down the corridor, Taehyung seems to have finished off the one he was wrestling with, and is now rolling over a second man, fangs bared and black with sangru, growls and snarls rippling out of both of them.

You can’t watch, can’t keep an eye on him, because the two remaining Scores are up and they are pissed. You don’t have a single second to think, you can only react. You throw a hand towards the ceiling, shouting the spell you’ve favored since the beginning, and a large chunk of stone falls with a boom that rattles your bones, nearly knocking you off your feet. Dust flies into the air, and you shield your eyes, coughing a little.

You take stock of the situation as soon as you can see again. You only got one of them with the chunk of ceiling, and you can hear Taehyung still fighting on the other side of the unsettled dust. Which means there’s still one -

He’s on you. You don’t even know which direction he came from, but you’re on the ground and he’s snarling over top of you, fingers digging into your upper arms, black eyes narrowed in effort, fangs bared.

You kick and buck, trying to get free enough that you can use your hands and try to throw a spell, but nothing works.

“Taehyung!” you scream, and then the weight is off of you - as if the Infracti was never there. You sit up, frantically, and then you find him - rolling in battle just feet away, snarling and snapping at a sandy-haired body that growls loudly back.

Jimin.

You run for Taehyung, but he meets you halfway, hands reaching for yours desperately. There’s a smear of sangru down his face, but he seems okay.

“Jimin,” you pant, pointing behind you, and Taehyung vanishes into a flash of color again, rushing to help his friend.

By the time you reach them, it’s over. The Infracti that had pinned you lies still on the ground, his head at an angle that makes your stomach lurch.

“You have to get out,” Jimin blurts. “They’re here for you, they only want you.”

“We’re going,” you say, trying to give Taehyung a tug. He doesn’t budge. A growl rumbles from his chest, but it’s subdued. He’s not fighting, just frustrated.

“I know you want to fight,” you say, still tugging, “but Satuel -”

“Shhh,” Jimin says suddenly, holding up a hand.

You freeze, listening.

They’re already here.

They come in that formless blur of color, surrounding the three of you and stilling, their bodies filtering back into view.

Everyone is moving at once. It’s impossible to keep track of anyone, friend or foe. All you can do is try not to become anyone’s prey.

You choose a direction and slam a burst of magic at them. It knocks two of them back, but there are more coming for you.

Your fear gets the better of you; you forego defensive walls and arc your hand over your head, shouting a spell that’s meant to cut, one of the few offensive moves you’d practiced what feels like ages ago.

Time slows as you watch black sungru spurts from an Infracti’s chest, her eyes rolling back as she staggers to her knees before dropping.

Another Infracti flies towards you, lightning fast, face contorted, fangs ready. Somebody tugs you out of the way, and you stumble after them, getting it together enough to throw up a wall between you and the attack.

You glance backwards enough to see that it’s Jungkook who saved you, but you can’t dwell on it. Just ahead of you, Jimin’s raking his teeth across someone’s neck, sangru bubbling down their throat in the wake of his fangs. He drops the body unceremoniously and launches himself at another.

You look around frantically, trying to find Taehyung. You don’t find him before you’re grabbed from behind. You scream, feeling fingertips digging painfully into your upper arms. You throw your head back as hard as you can and hear the crunch as you make contact.

You spin around wildly, throwing a blast that sends your assailant flying across the corridor. He crumples to the ground, and you turn away, going back to your search for Taehyung.

You spot him just as one of the Scores leaps onto his back, the same way they’d done to you moments ago. Taehyung twists in the other man’s grasp and gives a brutal kick; the Score staggers away and Taehyung launches himself at his attacker, knocking them both to the ground. When Taehyung bares his fangs and lowers his head, you look away. But you still hear the scream cut short into a feeble gurgle.

To your left, Jimin is grappling with one of them, their hands locked. You throw a protective wall around yourself and inch closer, trying to determine if you can help without hurting Jimin, too.

Jimin spots you, his eyes widening.

“Back up!” you yell, trying to make your way closer.

His face goes taut and he gives you a nod, understanding what you mean to do. He gives the Infracti he’s fighting a mighty shove, successfully putting a few feet between them.

You attack instantly, before the gap can be filled, sending a blast so strong that it knocks Jimin backwards, too. He lands gracefully, having only been grazed, and gets up quickly, looking between you and the Score you’d just flattened against the stone wall.

“Nice shot,” he breathes.

“Help Taehyung,” you answer, panting.

You both take off down the hall to where you’d last seen the prince. He and Jungkook stand alone, two more bodies motionless on the ground between them. They’re both breathing hard.

“We have to go,” Taehyung manages, as soon as he spots you.

Jimin steps towards Jungkook and for a second you panic, thinking he doesn’t know that Jungkook is on your side, but instead of fighting they seem to hug - clasping the back of each other’s necks and pressing their foreheads together for one breathless second before breaking apart again.

“Stay safe,” Jungkook says. It comes out like a warning.

“You, too,” Taehyung says, and steps past you, grabbing for your hand as he goes. “We’re almost out - let’s move.”

—

Day is breaking in full when you finally breach the palace’s walls.

“Hurry,” you say needlessly, rushing to the stone stairs that lead down to Taehyung’s private stable. You hope Namjoon made it there, you hope Satuel is still hanging on.

You’re shaking so bad that you miss a step, adrenaline wreaking havoc on your systems. You catch yourself on the banister and continue on, Taehyung and Jimin right behind you.

There are no guards at the stable, and you burst through the door in a rush. Namjoon jumps to his feet, a rake in his hands like a weapon.

“It’s us, it’s us,” you blurt out, trying to look past him. “Is she - are we in time?”

“I really don’t know,” Namjoon admits, lowering the rake and letting you all inside. Jimin closes the door carefully, locking it from the inside.

You make your way into the empty space beside Potato’s stall, where Satuel’s body lies. She’s unmoving; it doesn’t seem like she knows you’re there.

“Okay, Healer,” you say, looking at Taehyung.

He kneels by his guard’s side, examining the places where she was ripped open. He shakes his head. “This requires more than I’m capable of.”

You step closer, kneeling beside him. “What if I help?” you suggest.

He looks at you, something unreadable flashing across his face. “You think you could?”

You nod. “If we merge magical signatures, the way we did for the ritual? You should be able to pull from my power - borrowing from me. I’ll be like… a battery?”

He smiles despite the desperate situation.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s try - we’ve no time to spare.”

You settle onto your bottom on the dirty, wooden floor. Taehyung takes your hand, and you close your eyes and focus on your breathing, inhaling and exhaling as slowly as you can with fear still running rampant through your system.

After a few minutes - admittedly longer than normal - you feel your magic rise up inside you, warm and soothing and ready. You feel the familiar sensation of it reaching for Taehyung’s magic, little tentative tendrils poking around until they find the empty spaces between his.

The feeling when the two magical signatures meet and accept each other is euphoric, and you fight not to lose yourself in it, to stay focused.

Beside you, Taehyung starts running his hands over the visible gashes, the places where it seems like chunks are missing. The skin stitches itself back together easily under his touch, but you can tell it isn’t enough. Satuel doesn’t stir, her unfocused eyes staring blankly at the ceiling above you.

You can feel it, the exact moment when what he’s trying to do becomes too much for Taehyung’s magic. It pulls on yours sharply, an alarming sensation behind your ribcage.

You inhale. You exhale. You don’t fight it. You let him tug magic from you, you tell your systems that you trust him with all of it.

Taehyung doesn’t give up, keeping his hands above Satuel’s undead heart, letting your magics both flow into her, fixing what’s been broken, restarting what’s shut itself down.

She blinks - that’s the first sign. Her eyes blink once and then focus on Taehyung, and then slide shut. They stay shut, which alarms you, but then you see her fingers twitch.

“Your Majesty,” she breathes, eyes still closed. You sag with relief, and you feel your magical connection to Taehyung untangle, your magic curling back up inside you, tendrils coiling back up and retreating.

Taehyung closes his own eyes, but he doesn’t release your hand. Behind you, you hear Namjoon press closer.

“Rest,” Taehyung says. “All of you. We should be safe here. Rest.”

You settle in on the floor, backs against the wooden walls of the stable, eyes on the door. You listen to the ocean pound the shore outside, listen for the cries of gulls to warn of danger. Namjoon sits to your right, his tight gaze on the door. Prince Taehyung crouches to your left, ready to spring to his feet.

It’s over an hour before Taehyung’s guards find you, inform him that the palace is clear.

“My parents?” Taehyung asks, standing and brushing hay and dirt from his pants.

“The King and Queen are perfectly alright,” the guard tells him with a quick bow.

Taehyung straightens beside you, and you recognize him in royal mode, even before his voice comes out cold and controlled. “Very well. I need Satuel to be taken to the Elders for proper healing. And tomorrow morning I’ll be having an audience with my father and the curse-breakers. Please inform him.”

The guard bows again and backs out of the doorway, probably to go get backup to help move Satuel’s weakened body. You look at Taehyung quizzically, but you don’t feel afraid, not with his hand still in yours.

He meets your gaze evenly. “A year ago,” he says, still cold, which means he’s scared, “my father made me some promises, and broke them. Tomorrow, he’s going to make me a few more - and you’re going to help me make sure he can’t break them again.”

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!!!!! I can't believe there's only two more after this!!!! It's all coming to a close!!

thank you so much for reading!!! chapter 15 will go up next week as planned!

141 notes · View notes

inoreuct · 11 months

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omg hiiii i love your work🥺🫶

can we get the crew’s reaction to when zoro reveals he’s a weretiger / when they realise that zoro is a weretiger?

WAJWHAJSH THANK YOU ANON 🫶🏽 let's get into it hehehe

he definitely tells the east blue crew first. luffy before anyone else, of course; he works himself up to it so much that he gets nervous and they end up having a stress-induced back-and-forth (“WHY ARE YOU YELLING” “I’M NOT YELLING YOU’RE YELLING”) and he eventually just growls at the heavens in frustration and poofs into a tiger.

it’s barely dawn; the sky’s a watercolour of orange and pink and blue and the silence that comes after is painfully loud. he sits there with his tail-tip flicking at the deck in agitation and watches luffy’s face go from unreadable to awed to unrestrainedly joyful, his grin wide and white as ever but edged with something soft. “can i touch?” he asks, quietly for his standards, and zoro has just enough wherewithal to give him a rather shell-shocked jerk of the head before his captain’s fingers are in his ruff and luffy’s laughing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

(he should have known that he’d had nothing to worry about. luffy had wanted him as a half-dead stranger tied up in a marine base courtyard, and they’re nakama now. his captain is not someone to judge based on appearance. he is still luffy’s first mate, tiger or not— and he knows that after this, with his captain’s approval, his acceptance, telling everyone else will come easy.)

sanji’s next. zoro strides into the galley with conviction and the cook scoffs at him about stealing more liquor before zoro says his name and he turns, stunned and off-guard and concerned all at once, just in time to see the swordsman shift forms. his mouth falls open and he stares, wide eyes flicking about like he’s trying to process, for long enough that zoro starts getting shifty; like come on, now. you either react positively or negatively, what’s the hold-up?

he chuffs impatiently when sanji steps closer, muttering you have got to be kidding me under his breath. something settles slowly in the cook’s gaze, the furrow between his brows smoothing as zoro’s whiskers twitch at the brush of his fingers. “you’re gonna clear out my damn fridge, aren’t you,” he sighs, already resigned, and zoro lets out a happy, unrepentant mrrp.

(in this form, he finds himself reaching for sanji the most. his tail wraps around the cook’s ankle and his first instinct when he wants to sleep is to seek him out, curl around him like a dragon hoarding treasure; perhaps it’s because sanji takes to the shape of his soul as easily as breathing, blatantly unafraid as ever of zoro’s roughhousing (albeit however much he gentles it on his account of his claws and fangs and sheer mass), of putting him in his place when he’s unimpressed with his bullshit. sanji snarks and snipes and sometimes runs his nails through zoro’s fur absentmindedly as if zoro couldn’t snap his neck in half or bleed him out with a single bite; but he knows the cook is aware of just how dangerous he is. the trust is intoxicating— especially from him.

he tells himself he’s drawn near just because sanji gives him prime cuts of meat to snack on and nothing more.)

nami and usopp are having breakfast together when he finds them. their sniper does a double take at the massive green tiger and sucks down a sharp breath to scream before nami slaps a hand over his mouth, lightning-quick, pressing against his shoulder to keep him in his chair. zoro’s a little insulted; his control over his instincts is damn near impeccable. he’s not just gonna chase should usopp really decide to bolt.

but he can see nami’s mind racing, a smirk revealing the tips of his canines as he noses through one of sanji’s cabinets for show— and he catalogues the moment their navigator clocks his earrings and his green fur and realises it’s too much of a coincidence. she slumps back into her seat with a disbelieving, exasperated huff, leaving usopp to give himself whiplash looking between her and zoro and muttering a rapid-fire stream of panicked words that zoro pretends not to hear.

he takes great pleasure in putting his front paws on the table and grabbing an apple from the bowl there in his fangs (usopp squeaks like a dog toy being stepped on) before he tosses it up and slips back into his human form to catch it. “good morning,” he offers casually, grin growing, and as soon as he steps out of the galley he hears usopp absolutely lose his shit. the apple is sweet and crunchy and he’s having the best day ever.

when chopper, robin, franky, brook and jinbei join, luffy always finds a way to slip in a “oh, yeah, zoro’s a tiger by the way” at some point and he thinks they hear it but don’t really process it until they see him prowling around the deck in his shifted form. chopper had jumped about twice his height into the air and sprinted below deck before a laughing sanji coaxed him out; robin had accepted it with a singular nonchalantly raised brow and then a smile; franky, brook and jinbei had pretty much just blinked in surprise and laughed it off.

zoro had thought it’d be better to prepare his crew in case he ever had to shift in an emergency; better for them to know than to freak out in the middle of whatever situation if it ever came down to it. it takes some time for them to get used to him, but it becomes the norm— and he’s grateful for it.

before he joined luffy, before he showed all of them who he was, he’d never really had the chance to be in shifted form but now? he has the luxury of strolling about as a tiger, sprawling on the deck with the sun in his fur, his tail bobbing as he walks the rails for fun. none of them bat an eye anymore; nami yells at him to stop ruining the main mast with his claws while luffy cheers at him to climb it higher. usopp and franky make him what essentially amounts to a giant scratching post. robin always has a hand to spare for a quick behind-the-ear scratch. not having to worry about being hunted is the best thing he’s felt for years.

but amongst all of his nakama, luffy and sanji are the ones who touch him like it’s second nature. the cook hooks his fingers behind zoro’s fangs to pull him close and tease him about whatever, so terrifyingly blasé about willingly putting his hands near the mouth of a predator; zoro bats at him with a giant paw and a growl once and he just laughs with all the confidence in the world that zoro would never actually hurt him. his captain has seen fit to deem zoro his personal space heater/bolster/arm rest, and he drapes himself over zoro like it’s nobody’s business; pushing his face into zoro’s fur, arms around his neck, leaning against his side when they sit on the ground and—

it’s good. zoro curls around them, his cook and his captain, on the rug in the galley that the crew’s set near the oven because they know he likes it warm. even with all of sanji’s snarky fire and luffy’s happy-go-lucky glee their hands are gentler than he’s ever known, and zoro basks in their presence with an ease and eagerness that he will likely never admit. they are the sun and stars to his moon and he feels their call like the pull of the tide.

zoro does not fight it. he is the right hand to his king, the battle mate of one of the strongest, most infuriating people he’s ever met. they call, and he answers. their heartbeats are a steady thrum in his ears, their weight a welcome, grounding burden, and he has an inkling suspicion that for their acceptance, for their affection— there isn’t much that he wouldn’t do.

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writemekpop · 1 year

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Puppy Love (Part 2) | Lee Jeno

Summary: Your cold boyfriend Jeno has switched bodies with your dog Lucky. Will he learn to give you the affection you need before it's too late to save your relationship?

Genre: Established relationship AU, body switch AU, angst, fluff, featuring samoyed Jeno

Word Count: 1k

A/N: This one's a little wackier than our usual fics... (it's similar to a hybrid AU)

Part 1 | Part 2 💚 | Part 3

You heard a crash coming from the living room. You bolted to the room, Lucky by your feet. You gasped when you saw that the mirror was smashed.

But what was more shocking was what your boyfriend Jeno was doing.

Jeno – or at least, Jeno’s human body - was facing away from you in the corner of the room, one leg hiked up onto the sofa. His sweatpants were down at his ankles, and you could see his muscled naked butt…

To your horror, Jeno was peeing onto the carpet.

“Jeno what the hell are you doing!”

At the sound of your voice, Jeno turned around, pants still down, spraying pee everywhere.

You could have fainted from the shock.

Lucky the dog was looking at you as if to say – do you believe me now?

When Lucky was a puppy, he always used to pee in that exact corner of the room. Your head started to spin, surely, they couldn’t have switched bodies?

The human Jeno ran towards you, pants still round his ankles, a huge lopsided grin on his face.

“Naughty boy!” you scolded, pulling up his boxers and pants so that he was decent again.

You bit your lip. It was time to try something.

You looked Jeno, and said, “Lucky, sit!”

Your boyfriend Jeno promptly sat down on the floor, cross legged. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and his black eyes were scrunched up.

Your mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”

You flopped down onto the couch. “Holy fuck! Oh my god!”

Lucky jumped onto the couch and rested his head near your leg. He let out a low whine.

Your voice was quiet. “If you’re really Jeno stuck in Lucky’s body, then… prove it.” Lucky lifted his head up, looking at you quizzically. You looked at the books laid out on the coffee table. “Umm… which one of these books is written by Avni Doshi?”

Lucky jumped onto the table and pressed his wet nose on the correct book. You gasped. Dogs couldn’t understand humans like that. Dogs couldn’t read!

“Oh my god, it’s really you. This is actually happening!” you cried. Lucky barked, wagging his tail. Finally, he’d gotten through to you.

You slumped down on the couch. “So this whole time… I thought my boyfriend was being affectionate… but it was really my dog in my boyfriend’s body! Oh my god, we were on the couch and my clothes were off and we almost had sex-“

The dog let out a low rumbling growl. Your heart jumped – was Jeno… jealous?

The thought of Jeno being jealous made your entire body tingle with delight. But you pushed it away. There was no time for that now.

“How are we gonna switch you back?” You jumped up, nerves dancing. “Should we call someone? A doctor? The police? An exorcist? Oh my god!”

It was as if a flood gate opened, and suddenly, you started to cry. It started out as little sobs, but then soon you were full on wailing, your body shaking with the effort. You curled up into a ball on the floor and hid your head in your hands. This day had been too overwhelming.

You felt soft fur nuzzling against your arm. And then a wet nose, and soft wet lick. Without thinking, you opened your arms and embraced the dog. After all, for the last three years, you were more used to cuddling the pup than your boyfriend.

You buried your face into the soft golden fur, but then you froze. Because this wasn’t your loyal dog Lucky comforting you right now… it was your boyfriend Jeno in Lucky’s body.

You unwrapped your arms from him, skin prickling with awkwardness. Your boyfriend Jeno rarely comforted you with a hug. If you were sad, he’d tell you to toughen up.

You stood up and brushed yourself off, cheeks warming. “It’s late, maybe we should just go to sleep. I’ve got the day off tomorrow, and we can figure out how to switch you back then.”

The dog nodded. It was still slightly creepy how human like he was acting now.

You couldn’t decide who should take the dog bed and who should take the real bed, so it ended up being the three of you – you, Jeno and Lucky, all squished together on your bed.

Jeno’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, making butterflies course through you. But you had to remember – this was just your dog; it was not your boyfriend.

---

When you woke up the next morning, you were alone.

You rubbed your eyes sleepily. “Jeno? Lucky?” you called, with no response.

Maybe yesterday was all a dream. But then, you touched your chest and felt the beginnings of a love bite – one that your dog in your boyfriend’s body had given you. You shuddered at the memory.

You put on your silk robe and went downstairs.

You went straight to the doggie crate and saw Lucky, fast asleep. You frowned, was Lucky back to normal, or was Jeno still stuck there?

You walked into the living room, and that’s when you spotted Jeno. He was standing on the other end of the room, arms crossed, staring out into the garden.

“Jeno?” you called...

—

Read Part 3 HERE!

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

Taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @rjreins @jenoppang2 @painted-hills @kpopandyourname @beomyomom @luvvsnae @enhypen-scholarship @iguanas-world @bockhyun @coffeel0l @gyulfriend @luvvsnae @iwishigotswallowed @slaygirlbb @mad2lyn @shouldergangsterrj @toroufriteh @camzpetite @kpopslur @yutterfly @sinsgaybutthatsokay @itzz-me-duh @mango-bear @kiwuki @peachyxuxi @hschg69 @byungbyungbaek @niinjo @nctzcrime @luxmere @4yjwonnn @hchanlvr @donghyeokok @donutswithjaminthemiddle @fymine @profoundmusicpirate @inmymark @ellatizw @devinitysann @everlovingavenue @stephaniekim15 @sunflowerhae @trustmahluv @cherryblossom1818

#jeno #nct dream #nct imagines #nct fics #kpop imagines #nct hybrid au #jeno hybrid au #nct dream fluff #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct 00 line #jeno fluff #lee jeno #jeno samoyed au #puppy jeno #nct x reader

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kerryweaverlesbian · 1 year

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I wrote another soppy angsty romantic destiel fic 😇 read it here on ao3 or below:

Cas wakes, as he often does when he sleeps, on his side with Dean wrapped around him. It's the early hours of morning, although the room is lit just as it was last night; the lamp on Cas’s side of Dean's bed stays on overnight. Neither of them enjoy being plunged into darkness.

Dean's arm hangs heavily over his bare chest, his nose is pushed up into Cas’s hair, and Dean's knees have caught one of Cas’s thighs between them. It's warm, not just from their body heat and the comforter, but from the inside. He's never felt more at home than in Dean's arms.

On Cas shifting forward a little, Dean shuffles forward and nuzzles his nose into the back of his neck. Cas stills, then grips Dean's wrist, overcome. A certain self-knowledge has been uncovered in his head, like a delightful worm found under a lifted rock. He didn't mean to wake him, but Dean grumbles into his skin, "Cas."

"Go back to sleep," Cas tells him, but when Dean's arm shifts it crosses over the left side of his chest.

"Your heart's beating like crazy. What's up?" Dean's voice is still slurred with sleep, pressed up as close to unconsciousness as he is to Castiel.

"I just realised something," Cas says, bumping his thumb across the back of Dean's knuckles slowly which makes Dean half-hum contentedly. "I love you."

The fact blankets them further, soft but undeniable. Dean inhales and exhales deeply twice, and then says, breathy, "Oh."

"It's a surprise?"

"No," Dean says, pressing his forehead to the base of Cas’s skull. Then:

"Can you stop?"

"No." The first comes out annoyed - how can Dean doubt him, even now? - but when Dean's arm tightens around him, Cas gentles, "No, Dean. I can't. I've tried."

He has. Early on, sent to Heaven for disapline over and over for perceived slights against the Host he could barely understand. When Dean was the only thing standing between Cas and angelic redemption. When Dean has been callous, and bitter, and cruel. He's tried. Dean is too lovable for it to ever stick.

"I'm afraid I will love you for the whole of my life."

"Don't," Dean pleads, and it's not clear whether he means don't love me or don't tell me. Either way, Cas is going to let him down.

"I love you," Cas repeats, firmly, "I have loved you. I will love you. That's all."

"That's all," Dean echos, with a little huffed laugh. His voice is shaking, "Just, 'I love you, that's all'. What the hell, man?"

"It's a new thought, I don't have a speech prepared."

"You didn't know before? Seriously? When you - when we ripped up the rule book? You didn't know?"

"I had my suspicions," Cas admits, and he goes willingly when Dean pulls at his shoulder so that Cas is on his back, looking up at Dean in the golden light of the bedside lamp. Oh. "You're beautiful."

"Cas," Dean grumbles, looking away briefly but then back to Cas's face, a conflicted expression set into his features. "Cas..."

That seems to be it for several long seconds, during which they examined each other openly. It's Dean who breaks eyecontact again first, casting his gaze out into the room. He rubs a hand over his own jaw roughly, and Cas sees his fingers pinch despite him trying to conceal it under the bolt of his jaw. Checking if it's a dream. Cas doesn't blame him.

Dean takes a deep breath, then says, with difficulty and closed eyes, "I don't want you to."

Cas tilts his head, and puts his fingers to the place Dean had pinched. Dean lets out a little cut off sound, a dimmed whine.

"Is that true?"

"Yes," Dean says, his voice tight - but he clutches the front of Cas’s shirt just as tightly. When Cas gently slides his palm up to Dean's cheek, Dean presses into it hard, his eyes still squeezed shut. Cas gives him the time he needs, moving his pinkie finger in soothing strokes next to Dean's crow's feet. Love, yes, it is love. Patient, kind and stubborn. That's the feeling that rises in Cas every time he gets the chance to look at Dean. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

"I'm not-" Dean says eventually, taking a sharp breath in partway through, "You shouldn't feel that way."

"I've had quite a lot of people tell me what I should be feeling. It hasn't stopped me thus far. No one has changed me as you have."

"Don't say that. Don't blame me. I didn't do anything."

Cas shakes his head, though Dean can't see it. It's a little humanoid habit he's picked up. One of those little things Heaven can't stand about him. One of hundreds.

"Dean, I'm not blaming you. I'm thanking you." The loneliness of Dean's closed eyes is becoming too much to bare. "Will you look at me?"

He does, and the action frees tears from his eyelashes. One runs down to Cas’s palm, and Cas wishes he could kiss the drop, to keep it safe forever. The green of Dean's eyes stands out strong against his wet lashes, and he blinks back more rising tears. All this from three simple words.

Dean has a few words of his own to say. He presses the heel of his hand down on Cas’s forehead, like he's smiting him, and says, brokenly, "I've ruined you."

"Dean," Cas says, struck with a burst of love in his chest, "you saved me."

"No," Dean insists, pressing harder. "I've made you vulnerable. Now you're gonna - you're gonna die and it's my fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"Everyone. All the time. Everyone I-" Dean shuts his eyes again, and Cas misses him instantly, "Everyone I love. If I start to think it's possible then it's too late."

Cas thinks about it seriously. "Maybe I will die." Dean makes another noise of suffering, so Cas tries to mitigate his words with another sweep of his little finger on Dean's face. "Dean. I might die. I can't promise you otherwise, with the lives we lead."

"Stop," Dean moans, "Stop it. Why are you doing this to me? What did I do?"

"You cared about me. You believed I could be better than I was, more than a tool for Heaven's will. You were right."

"What good has it done you?"

Cas narrows his eyes. "Don't insult me. Look at me." Dean complies, and swallows, his throat bobbing with it. "I'd rather die than never live. I'd rather love than be silent. And if I die, I will return to you. Always."

The tears are running thick and fast now, Dean's face is red and his chest heaving.

"Cas." He says again, beseeching, then he leans down. He kisses the back of his own hand, still pressed on Cas’s forehead, and it's Cas’s turn to close his eyes, just for a moment. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

Cas thinks he might. They have both been in this partnership for a long time. They know each other well.

"I have my suspicions."

When Dean's eye catches his, Cas smiles, just a little, and it grows when Dean kisses him on the mouth, once, quick.

"I liked that," Cas tells him, and Dean groans, then kisses him again, and again, another groan coming through from the back of his mouth when Cas kisses back.

They stay that way, kissing tenderly for a small eternity, until Dean's alarm goes off at 5am. Cas makes a noise of complaint when Dean turns away and untangles their linked hands to switch it off, which makes Dean laugh. The tension and fear had slowly receded as they made out, replaced with a quiet, sparkling joy.

"Thanks," Dean says, holding himself off a little from Cas rather than coming back for more.

"You're welcome," Cas says, with a confused frown, which gets Dean smiling, toothy, "What for?"

Dean shrugs with one shoulder. "I dunno. Everything. All of it. I can't believe you just said it as soon as you knew, man. You're supposed to hold that stuff in until you're about ready to explode whenever the other guy looks at you."

"Is that what you were doing?"

Another shrug, and a sly smile. "Hey, it worked didn't it?"

"Hm. Well then, thank you too."

Dean huffs, and settles his head down on Cas’s chest. Cas pets through Dean's hair, marvelling at how soft it feels, and gets a sleepy, pleased hum in response.

"You're welcome, Cas," Dean mumbles his eyes fluttering shut, and that same warmth that pushed Castiel's realisation of love suffuses him again.

Truly, he considers while Dean's breathing evens out to sleep again, here, he has always been welcome.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #sharing a bed #cawis creates #<i should go back and tag all my stuff I think haha

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 years

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Yo so Ethan x Reader where the reader is Ethan's wife and mother of rose and the reader was replaced by Miranda so an au where Chris helps ethan to the aircraft where the reader is waiting and Ethan is happy to see his wife again, just a fluffy and happy ending?

A/n: Ethan! He deserves a happy ending man! So here he will get it!

also changed a little since the man does get his heart ripped out.

I hope you enjoy it my friend @emberstoriesandtales . { I’m replaying RE7 }

Chris had though Ethan Winters was dead, he saw the man get impaled. Your screams echoing in his ears as he handed you Rose, you child and forced you to leave with one of his squad members. But then he saw it, a slight twitch of his hand. He had to get to the man, he had to save him, he owed it to Ethan after everything he's been through.

Dodging debris of the falling 'tree', Chris pushed himself too run faster. He barley reacted to lifting Ethan on his back, he didn't react to the blood staining his shirt. All that he knew was that he had to get him to safety.

"Stay with me Winters, keep in mind you got a wife and a baby waiting for you...alright."

The muttering reassured him and thank god he could see the air craft. Chris was still trying to wrap his head around the man was even alive with the beating he took be right now he wasn’t going to complain because at least he was alive.

+•+

Hospitals, you never liked hospitals but right now you were going to have to learn to like them since your husband was laying in a bed right now. Frowning you reached out grasping his hand holding it tightly. The man slowly stirring awake.

“Rose! Y/n!”

Bolting up, Ethan felt a hand on his chest, his eyes doing it’s best to adjust to the bright light. “Where am I”

“The hospital, that bitch really did a number on you.” You muttered grabbing his hand bringing it to your lips. “You scared the hell out of me Ethan.”

Chuckling, Ethan closed his eyes relaxing back in the bed. “I’m alive? Thank god, then all of that was a terrible nightmare.” he muttered. He couldn’t believe he was alive, that he still had you and Rose.

Rose…where was Rose?!

“My parents are watching her Ethan. I’ll bring her in tomorrow okay. I just wanted to see you…had to make sure you were okay.” Leaning in you gave his head a kiss.now get some sleep okay.”

Trying to relax, Ethan slowly nodded his head. As long as his little girl was okay then he could at least try to sleep for you. Squeezing your hand tightly he closed his eyes trying to get some sleep.

He was home and now you were all free, free of this shit and maybe things could be normal.

+•+

If it was one thing that Ethan knew, it was that he was happy to be out of the hospital, he was just happy to be home. Lifting his daughter in the air he nuzzled his nose against hers. Rose letting out a squeal of happiness.

“So cute!”

You couldn’t help but squeal, from the hell of the Bakers to what went down in that village. Ethan finally had a look of serene on his face, he looked like he was at peace.

Chuckling, Ethan shook his head then walked over to you giving you a gentle kiss a Rose babbled, her little fingers grabbed his sweater. “My two favorite girls.”

“And my favorite man.” You teased pinching his cheek.

Sighing, Ethan than reached out to grab your hand, Rose still playing with some random thread on his sweater.

“Are you okay Ethan.”

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. “Ya I’m okay, how can I not be when everything is perfect.”

#drabbles #drabble #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters x you #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil 7 #resident evil biohazard #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #re #re7 #res8 #re village

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obvious-captain-rogers · 9 months

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It seems like @human-that-exists sent me this prompt about a million years ago for Spideydevil, and I had it finished for a while on my computer, but I forgot to post it until now. So here it is!

“5:30 AM, 5:30 AM,” The alarm chirped neutrally from the bedside table.

Peter groaned and buried his face between Matt’s shoulder blades, as if that would help change the fact of time as well as how ridiculously early that his husband got up every morning.

Husband.

The word hit Peter like a bolt of lightning. Because that was what Matt was now. Matt was his husband.

Peter felt himself smile a little even as Matt fumbled slightly to turn off the alarm. Matt finally pressed the button to silence it and a warm quiet blanketed the bedroom again as Peter gently scrubbed his face against Matt’s sleep-warm skin.

“First day of school,” Matt murmured and gently rubbed at Peter’s arm where it was draped around Matt’s waist. When Peter just hummed, still not thrilled at the rude awakening, Matt turned around in Peter’s grip so that he could brush a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “And you’ve got an early lecture this morning.”

“Who let me agree to an 8 AM?” Peter grumbled and tipped his face up for a kiss. Matt obliged him though he kept it pointedly chaste since neither of them had brushed their teeth yet. “Who even wants to take an 8 AM?”

“No one.” Matt snorted and he started to slip out of bed but Peter just clung on tighter, trying to keep him in place. But Matt was stronger than him and Peter was still too groggy to put much effort into it so Matt got out of bed, leaving Peter sprawled halfway across the warm spot that Matt had left behind. “Come on, sweetheart,” Matt said and he skimmed his hand down Peter’s back. When he only got a muffled grunt in response, he figured it was time to resort to more desperate measures. “If you get up, I’ll blow you in the shower.”

“Really?” Peter asked and lifted his head with interest.

“And if you go on a run with me?” Matt asked, just to see how far Peter was willing to let him go with this.

“Don’t push it,” Peter said flatly.

“C’mon, up. We’ll go to that awful place on the corner for a breakfast sandwich on the way in and everything,” Matt persuaded. He was probably laying it on a touch thick, but Peter was not know for his punctuality.

“You must really not want me to be late,” Peter teased as he pushed the covers back so he could get out of bed. “Blowjobs and slightly questionable breakfast sandwiches. This whole marriage thing is going to spoil me.” Matt just laughed as he padded out of their bedroom and towards the bathroom to go and let the water heat up.

…..

“You really do love me,” Peter sighed wistfully as he clutched onto his grease-stained paper bag that held what Matt fondly- read: with full and unmitigated disdain- referred to as the Monster Trashcan Bagel from Hell. It was a sourdough, everything bagel stuffed with a tomato, spinach, green pepper, and onion egg scramble; bacon; hot sauce that probably expired before Peter was born; and an obscene amount of cheddar cheese.

Peter had tried to get Matt to take a bite once in the early days of dating, but it had never happened and likely never would. Matt had far too sensitive of a nose to ever let it pass his lips.

“That I do,” Matt said and ducked in to brush a quick kiss against Peter’s jaw. “Have a ring and everything to prove it.”

They were early enough onto campus that they could stop at the usually crammed-full coffee shop in the middle of everything without worry about being late to their offices to do their final preps for class- while 8 AM was a new concept for Peter, Matt had been doing early classes practically his whole teaching career.

“Want me to walk you over?” Peter asked even as he let his arm slip from Matt’s shoulders. The law building was a fair distance from the science quarter.

“Nah, it’ll just be me shuffling my notes around. Go each your breakfast and nearly give Miles a heart attack when you lose track of time,” Matt teased. They both liked Peter’s TA, but Peter was significantly less organized than the grad student only a handful of years younger than him.

“Hilarious,” Peter muttered and leaned in for a kiss.

“Good luck, Dr. Murdock,” Matt said as Peter pulled away.

“You too, Dr. Murdock.” Matt could practically hear Peter winking as he started towards the science quarter. Matt just shook his head fondly before making his own way towards the law building.

…..

“Alright then,” Peter clapped his hands together as he pulled himself up to sit on his desk cross-legged. It was his trademark move to try and be more approachable since most of the time it seemed his comparative youth made him more intimidating rather than less. “Let’s just dive into the syllabus.” Peter waved at the stacks by his sneaker so Miles would stop ogling the blond in the front row and get to it. “With the term only being eight weeks, I try to give you a broad spectrum of the various topics that a more specialized class will go further into so you’ll be prepared to pick which future courses will serve your discipline.” Peter picked up his own copy of the syllabus and flipped over the first page that was his contact information and the course outline. He glanced back up and saw a handful of students frowning at their syllabi and then furtively looking around the room in confusion. “I see some confused faces, what’s up?” Peter asked and tipped his head slightly.

There was a boy closer to the back that piped up. “Uh, you’re Dr. Murdock right?”

“That’s what the plaque outside the classroom says,” Peter joked and when the furrow between his brows only deepened, Peter sobered. “Yes, I am Dr. Murdock.”

“But this isn’t Intro to Legal Ethics.”

“No, no it isn’t. This is Intro to Biomedical Engineering.” Peter’s face creased into a frown for a moment and then he cracked the smallest smile as he realized what had happened. “There are two Dr. Murdocks. Does your schedule say M. Murdock or P. Murdock?” Peter asked and swung himself down from the desk so he could walk over to the girl in the front row that had been confused and had fished out her schedule. “Yup, that’s what it is. Wrong Dr. Murdock, you’re looking for Matt.” Peter would have to talk to the office that printed the schedules about attaching lecture hall numbers to professor names.

There was a chorus of awkward laughter from both the students who were meant to be in his class and those that had gotten mixed up as books were hastily put into bags. “Don’t even worry about it, just make sure to check in with the TA if there is one for attendance since most of the scholarships check that sort of thing!” Peter called after the students that were filtering out his door.

When the door swung shut, Peter faced the rest of his class with a small smile. “Well, now that that’s sorted out why don’t we-?” Before he could say anything else, there was a light knock on the door and then some sheepish students were poking their heads around the doorframe.

“Is this Dr. P. Murdock’s class?” A boy with blond hair and bright blue tips asked, shifting his grip on the strap of his bag.

Peter gave them a nod. “Mix-up with which Dr. Murdock?” Peter asked sympathetically. The small gaggle of kids nodded. “Come on in and find a seat, we were just about to start going over the syllabus.” Peter nudged Mile’s foot with his own so that his TA would pass out the remaining syllabi to the students that had just gotten into the room.

…..

“We didn’t think this through,” Peter said in lieu of a greeting when he tossed himself down onto the loveseat in Matt’s office. It was the only casual thing in Matt’s meticulously kept office. Part of it, Peter knew, was from necessity, but the other part was just Matt.

Peter only had the one Intro class that day, so the rest of his students had had him in previous courses and could recognize him even with the name change. Most of them had even known about the fact that Dr. Parker was going to be Dr. Murdock by the time they came back to campus. He was guilty of maybe talking about his personal life a little too much in class, but he’d been stupidly in love with Matt from their third date so he could hardly be blamed for mentioning the fact that they were getting married.

Matt snorted and put his lecture notes to the side before raising a brow at Peter. “Speak for yourself. I thought about this when we talked about changing our names at all.”

Peter squawked indignantly. “And you didn’t think to mention it to me!”

Matt laughed. “I didn’t think I had to! I assumed you’d already thought of it yourself.”

Peter grumbled and sunk down further into the couch.

“Not to add insult to injury, but I think some of your mail came to my mailbox.” Matt skimmed his hand over the desk before he grabbed an envelope and held it out to Peter. “No Braille, so.”

Peter took it and Matt was right, it was addressed to Dr. P. Murdock. “I’m sorry, baby,” Peter muttered and scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is gonna be such a pain in the ass for the next couple of days.” It was going to be students in the wrong classes and mixed up mail and probably wrong emails and mislabeled assignments and-

Matt just laughed, an easy smile on his face. “Hey, it’s alright. Comes with the gig right,” Matt said and held up the hand where his wedding ring sat, flexing his ring finger pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Peter muttered but there was more humor in it, none of the pall that had lingered over his head for a moment. That was the incredible thing about Matt that Peter loved. He could pull Peter out of his weird headspaces and the spirals he nearly worked himself into. All with a few words or a small smile. “Foggy’s gonna think this is hilarious,” Peter said and rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Matt broke out into a lopsided smile. “Yeah, he probably will. And Karen will think it’s precious.” Matt wrinkled his nose slightly and that made Peter smile to himself.

Peter glanced at his watch and then sighed. “I better go before my next class,” Peter levered himself off of Matt’s sofa before he crossed over so he could bend over the desk and give Matt a proper kiss. “See you at six, right?” Peter asked, knowing full well that that was when Matt’s office hours were over.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Matt said and brushed his mouth against Peter’s one last time.

Peter grinned to himself as he ducked into the strap of his bag, settling it on his shoulder with practiced ease, and then stuffed his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards his own office. He had some time to kill before his next class and he was going to take full advantage of it to coordinate with his lab co-teacher, answer the emails that were already starting to come in, as well as probably just take a short nap. Without him realizing it, a smile had tugged at the corners of his mouth and Peter was surprised to feel how content and happy he was. It certainly hadn’t been something he was expecting- Matt had come as a surprise after they’d been set up by some well-meaning friends who knew each other- but he was happy with how his life had turned out. He had a job he loved, he had his research, and he had Matt.

What more could anyone ask for?

#my writing #my fic #spideydevil #peter parker #matt murdock #daredevil #spiderman #spider-man

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yoonkinii · 6 months

Text

We Were Human

Pairing(s): Ascended!AstarionxReader

Part 4:

Synopsis: Astarion died as soon as he became something the world has never seen before. No one noticed the damage before it was too late and the Astarion everyone loved was lost to the new one. No one could notice when the turn was slow and silent. He slowly lost the playful glint in his eyes. Lost the love he gaze upon me with. Lost everything that made him the man I loved. Oh, how I would give anything to get him back. I would gladly give up my damned soul for him.

Aka you are transported back to the past in order to prevent ascended Astarion from losing himself the only problem? You don’t have a lot of time.

Warnings: Gore, blood, cruelty, cursing, death/murder, mentions of using oneself unwillingly, abuse. Its ascended Astarion, prepare for the worst.

Masterlist

Note(s): For the sake of the plot- Astarion will not automatically be damned from the start. In this world, Astarion becomes lost to the ascension overtime until he becomes the ascended vampire we know him to be in the game. Another note that should be highlighted is that this story will be told from the first person perspective since it benefits the story more than any other perspective.

You will also notice various things being different from the game. For example, Karlach will be able to stay in the ‘human’ world and she fixed her heart. (I love my girl, I’m not sending her back), Szaars palace has a different layout cause the one in the game was stupid. There will be more that you will notice in the future so beware.

Thank You.

Sorry this part is so short compared to the previous ones. I had to cut it off at that point or else this part would've been crazy long.

It wasn’t long until Astarions breathing returned to normal but even then he was unresponsive. The two of us laid there in complete silence, the echoes of life sounding outside of the tent. My hand wadded through his silver locks, gently tugging out knots that appeared in his nightmarish sleep. He clung to me like a lifeline, his fingers clenching the fabric of my shirt, his nose pressed into the pulse point of my neck. We were lifeless in that moment, neither of us moving or talking, simply laying like entwined corpses. Perhaps we already were corpses when we both changed, my heart stopped as soon as I turned into a spawn and his has been gone for centuries. I didn’t know how long had passed since Astarion had woken up as him but it seemed like enough time to finally break the silence.

“How long has this been happening, Astari?”

The nickname fell from my lips without a second thought. I had rarely ever called him that, not since he ascended for the first time in my other life. If I closed my eyes and thought hard enough, I could still remember the way Astarions body paused above mine, his assault on my lips ceasing. At first, I had thought I made a mistake and it wasn’t until he asked me to repeat it to him over and over. Each time the name fell from my lips, a kiss was pressed against them.

He was silent for a while and I had begun to think he wasn’t going to answer until his shoulders rose as he inhaled. A very human thing he did when there was no need. I could not judge though, I still did it even though I was already dead. My body couldn’t get rid of that habit and it seems neither could he.

“Ever since I ascended.”

The hand that was running through his hair halted, a pain of worry bolting through me. “What?” I asked breathlessly. The hand that wasn’t running through his hair, cupped the side of his; guiding him to look at me. My lips pinched into a fine line as I gazed at the man I loved with my entire being. His ruby eyes were shrouded in grief and a pain I’ve never known before. His eyes which were once filled with light were now weighed heavy with hidden grief. His carefully articulated mask of contemptment had fallen and I was finally seeing the true extent of his torment. His shoulders were hunched, as though he was trying to close in on himself.

“Why haven’t you told me this?”

Inhaling sharply, my mouth opened to ask another question at his silence but was halted as Astarion suddenly pulled away from my embrace and began pulling on his boots. Lines of confusion appeared between my brows, “Where are you going? We need to talk about this.”

“We do not need to talk about anything.” Astarion responded through a clenched jaw. He stood and on instinct, I grabbed onto the hem of his tunic,

“Wait-”

“Let go of me.” He said sharply, “I do not need or want to talk about it. You have been told everything you need to know.”

He didn’t wait for my reply before he exited the tent, leaving me alone. My lips quivered, the familiar burning sensation of frustrated tears brimming my eyes.

“Gods dammit.” My voice sounded into the air. I was all too familiar with this scene, he did it when he was a spawn. He closed himself off, a defense mechanism he could never part with. It wasn’t him pulling away from me that made the cold grip of anxiety take hold, it was his voice. At that moment, it was not Astarions but his voice commanding me once more. Demanding that I obey, that I bend at his will no matter what.

I inhaled deeply, settling back into the makeshift bed Astarion had set out. My mind wandered into the deep and darkest recess of my mind. Digging up a past or rather my future if I didn’t change it, searching for anything that could help me- that could guide me. Flashes of pain that stretched from physical to mental flashed across my mind and it was all for naught. I stared at the place that was once filled with Astarions presence, wondering what I should do next. Of course I wanted to wallow in fear and hide from my other part of my damned soul but what could that do? I would just let him become a victim to become someone that isn’t him.

Do you even know who he is? Who he truly is?

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the thought away as I turned to face the opposite direction of where Astarion was laying. Regardless of all the ‘what if’s’ and ‘whys’ that ran rampant in my mind, I forced myself to lay still and keep my eyes shut until the comforting silence of sleep took over.

There was a buzz in the air and it wasn’t just from the bugs calling to each other with the sun beating down on them. The trek to the goblin camps was silent. Astarion didn’t return to the tent last night and I didn’t have the courage to start an argument right when I needed to focus on fighting goblins. Goblins wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the sheer number they gather in. While they were gathered by several higher ups that actually knew how to strategies, they were harmless without someone to lead them.

“Do you always walk so loud, my dear?”

I blinked, casting Astarion a sideways glance, “Do you always have the need to storm off when we should communicate?”

Astarions lips quirked into a small frown, “I didn’t see the need to discuss anything.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I walked through the dense forest- suddenly self conscious about the way I walk. It was no surprise Astarion thought I was heavy footed since he was a rouge that lived most of his life slinking in the shadows. Being a sorceress did not require being silent and hiding in the shadows, not when I could easily cast spells that could injure people efficiently. There was a time when Karlach, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart tried teaching me something else other than spells. They claimed that relying on the weave was too risky since I was constantly fighting. They tried their best but the most I could grasp was how to wield a dagger. While Lae’zel grumbled about ‘sorcerers being unreliable in combat’ under her breath, Karlach and Shadowheart deemed it enough. Shadowheart said I would be alright as long as I knew how to stab someone with something sharp.

Even though his talents were needed more than anything- anyone could swing a blade and hurt someone regardless if it was on purpose or not- no one could grasp how he walked so silently through any terrain. Even now, with all the fallen leaves, bramble, and branches littering our path, I couldn’t hear a single step. Where I had to concentrate to walk softly (which was useless since I would end up making noise anyway) he did it with ease.

Astarion stopped for a moment and I froze, looking around to see if there was anything nearby that would have made him stop. He angled his head, tilting it as if he was trying to listen better. Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and started walking in another direction. I moved to follow him but he looked at me over his shoulder,

“I think it’s best if we separate.”

I gave him a wary look, hands coming to rest on my hips, “What? Why?”

“Do I really have to explain everything to you?” He replied through a clench jaw, his gaze hard as he looked at me.

My jaw fell slack, looking at Astarion as if he wasn’t real and standing before me.

“Are you serious right now? I have no idea why you are so angry at me when all I wanted to do was help.” I replied roughly, face pinched into annoyance. I knew I shouldn’t be pushing his buttons, not when he was still the same person that tortured me time and time again. He wasn’t the Ascended Vampire I was familiar with but he would turn into him if I didn’t help him properly. I could either be pushing him towards losing himself or pulling him away and I had no idea if arguing with him was helping.

“You dare speak to me like that? Like you are not beneath me.”

My whole body tensed. I knew that voice, it haunted my dreams and lurked in my memories. Astarion- no, he stalked towards me. His body was full of grace but I knew every bone in his body craved for violence, to breath in the taste of pain that would soon coat the air. I stumbled back, feets getting caught in the uneven floor of the forest. My back thudded against a tree and I watched with fear blown eyes as he came closer until we were chest to chest. His eyes met mine and I forced them to look away, to peer straight at his chest. There was no rise and fall of his chest, there was no warmth to his skin, Astarion was him and I had no idea how to handle it.

I flinched slightly as his hand ran through my hair ever so gently. My jaw clenched tightly, I was surprised my teeth didn’t shatter. My eyes snapped shut as his face got closer, his lips whispering against the skin of my cheekbone.

“Oh Darling,” He said lowly, his voice a rumble in his chest. “Look at me.” Suddenly, his hand yanked my head back harshly by the hair at the nape of my neck. I yelped, pain bursting through my skull. Instinctively, I grabbed hold of his wrist, looking at him with fear driven eyes. He tutted his lips, a mocking pout playing on his lips, “What ever should I do with you” he questioned himself, his words whispered against my skin.

“Should I leave you here on the brink of death, leave you just alive enough to remain conscious to feel your body piercing itself together? Or should I take away the privilege of allowing you to withstand the sun? Maybe then you will learn to appreciate the kindness I have shown you.”

His threats left their icy marks in my heart. Fear invaded my senses, my breathing harsh and rapid which was ridiculous. My lungs did not need air but the notion still forced me to spiral.

“Please, Astarion.” I stuttered meekly, the grip I had on him tight but it didn’t do anything to deter him. It probably felt like nothing on him. He raised a white brow towards me, his head angling to the side. Without a word, he yanked my head back further, forcing me to crane my neck at a painful angle.

“You are talking to a vampire ascendant. I am a God and you,” He bit out, “Are nothing.” His face was passive, no lines of emotions on his beautiful features. Sunlight shined down on him, his lashes almost a blinding white. How could something be so beautiful and cruel at the same time. How could my dead heart only feel alive when it was around him.

“I-I’m sorry, Lord Astarion.”

It was easy to revert back into the mold I was taught how to fit into. It was easy to obey and beg for forgiveness. I felt many emotions at that moment but I mostly felt annoyed at how right he was. He was something while he was my everything. Only through him I was safe from the sun, safe from the bloodlust, but I wasn’t safe at the same time. I wasn’t safe from my very own savior.

I was so frustrated that tears bubbled my eyes, blurring my vision. I felt my throat tighten, the familiar pain of sobs wanting to erupt coming unwelcome. I didn’t want to cry, it was the last thing I wanted to do but the sense of helplessness was too overbearing. I had forgotten what it felt like to be in love with a monster. To him I was nothing, but he was my everything. All I was his spawn, a thing that is used to please him and nothing more. I had forgotten what it felt like to be looked at not as a person but an object.

Abruptly, he pulled away like my skin burned him. He flung himself away so hard that he collided into a tree across from me. I stood there frozen, watching as my lungs heaved in relief. I blinked back the unfallen tears, running my hands through my own hair as though to take away the taint of his harshness off my being.

Astarion was leaning on the trunk, his hand gripping his chest like he meant to tear out his own heart. I gulped, swallowing my own shame and taking a step forward. It did not matter how scared I was. This was not normal and I had to figure out why. At the sound of my step Astarion flinched, his downcasted gaze meeting mine. I inhaled a sharp breath at the sight of the man who threatened to leave me to die here only seconds before look at me with such fear. Astarion stumbled away, his skin clammy with sweat and glinting in the rays of sun.

“Stay away.”

His voice was so soft that it strained my eyes to hear him. My eyes narrowed in confusion. He suddenly looked like an animal that was cornered. He coward away from me, every small step I towards home resulted in him shuffling away as if moving away pained him.

“Astarion,” I said as gently as I could even with anxiety choking me. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

Astarion doubled forward like an imaginary force hit him from behind. He gritted his teeth, his own fangs piercing into the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip. Droplets of blood bubbling from the small wounds. Sweat dripped down his brow, into his eye causing him to blink harshly. He glanced at me with pain narrowed brows, mumbling, “I’m sorry” before he abruptly stumbled away disappearing into the dense forest.

I stood in shock for longer than I would have liked. My mind paralyzed with shock as it witnessed something it’s never seen before. This had never happened before, the way he was present one moment before disappearing another. I quickly gathered my thoughts, running through the memories of my ‘past’ life to account how Astarion was after he returned from this expedition by himself. He returned with nothing other than himselfs even though he left with a vast amount of supplies just in case. He only had one thing with him and it was himself covered with blood that wasn’t his. It was only then that the first instance of what people knew as Astarion began to diminish. He smiled less, got irritated more often, the lines of emotion on his face began to fade. He loved me less and wanted me more. He was shorter with me, not wanting to explain his decisions to me no matter how much I pleaded. He wasn’t him yet but he was starting to become him.

This could only mean one thing, something happened during his time handling the goblin camp that no one was able to witness or stop him from doing. And going off with what just happened, it hasn’t happened yet- if going off I was going off the previous interactions we’ve had.

I swallowed the lump of nerves building in my throat down, determination filling my veins. I had to find Astarion before whatever happened in the past happens in the present. Even if it kills me. The only problem is, tracking him would almost be impossible since he was always soft footed and careful of his tracks. I only had one thing to go off of and that was the direction he ran in- to a place I knew would be there. A Goblin Camp.

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lucienarcheron · 1 year

Text

Quiet Thunder - I [Elucien]

Prompt: Lucien expresses his frustrations to Elain. | Part II

Genre: Angst Rating: SFW Author’s note: This takes place post-ACOFAS.

It had started the night before. An unusual discomfort had taken place in his chest and he had rubbed at it all evening, waiting for it to pass, trying to ignore it as Jurian and Vassa discussed with him. He had tried to participate, discuss, and laugh along but the feeling kept intensifying as the night went on.

Something was wrong with Elain.

The thought kept repeating itself in his mind over and over again but he tried to push it away, tried not to think about it. Elain had been going through a variety of emotions the past few months and Lucien had silently endured them all.

Space was what she wanted and space is what he would give her. Even when it was impossible for him not to think of her constantly. It was an ache. An ache Lucien didn’t ask for and an ache he didn’t think he’d experience again.

But now, it was well into the morning and the feeling had only increased, the discomfort edging onto pain that had him bolting upright from his bed and winnowing into Velaris, haphazardly slipping a shirt on, his sleeping trousers nearly slipping off in his haste.

He quickly knocked on the door and when a minute passed, his knocking became more frantic.

A wide-eyed Feyre slowly opened the door and blinked at Lucien. “I know we’re friends Lucien, but you better have a good explanation for why you’re here looking like this.”

“Elain.” he choked. “Is she alright? How badly is she hurt?”

“Elain?” she blinked. “She’s fine she’s just — oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“She started her cycle this morning.” Feyre said with a small wince then waved a hand over him. “This makes sense now. Come in.”

Lucien followed her in, the tightness around his chest loosening slightly. Just her cycle. A cycle from the deepest pits of hell if he remembered correctly from his own mother’s experiences. From Jesminda’s. His chest tightened again at the thought of her name and he shook his head at the shame he felt. Ashamed that he was thinking of his previous lover while his mate lay upstairs in pain.

Not that she wanted anything to do with him.

Lucien followed Feyre into the huge kitchen of the estate and he nodded his head in greeting at the two half-wraiths who returned the gesture.

“How —how is she?” he asked softly.

“It’s been a rough morning,” Feyre said quietly as she took a tray loaded with hot tea and a small portion of food from Nuala’s hands. “I was actually on my way up to see her now. She’s mortified that everyone knows she’s dealing with it. As you’ve probably picked up by now, Elain is a tad more modest than most.”

Lucien nodded, a thin smile on his face. “From the few times we’ve been in the same room standing miles apart. Yes, I’ve gathered.”

Feyre gave him a look then sighed. “I’ve tried, you know.”

Lucien shook his head. “Don’t worry. I don’t blame her. I don’t blame you either. It’s not your responsibility.” He paused, glancing at his hands clenching the edge of the counter and then up at Feyre. “Would — would it be alright if I saw her? Made sure she’s okay?”

“I don’t know if she’ll be up for that.” Feyre said, biting on her lip in thought. “I can ask and see.”

He nodded in response. “I’ll wait down here.” he replied then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for coming in like this. But I — I felt it. Her discomfort and pain. I thought she was hurt. As her mate, I’d — I’d like to help in any way I can.”

“A very specific kind of hurt.” Feyre said, scrunching her nose and then chuckling.

He gave her a small smile. “Indeed.” he replied then his smile fell from his face. “Um, let me know what she says.”

She only gave him a sympathetic smile in return, leaving with the tray in her hands. Lucien let out a breath and tried to remember why he was even here in the first place. Again, it wasn’t like she wanted anything to do with him. Months had passed and yet...at the first sign of dismay, here he was.

So much for dignity.

This must be what hell felt like.

Elain was in actual hell.

She let out another pitiful whimper, her fingers digging into her pillow trying to figure out what was worse: her uterus that was viciously shedding itself or her lower back that felt like a thousand knives were being stabbed in it.

She curled up herself in a fetal position, hoping to center all of it in one spot and Elain was pretty sure if it was possible to die from this, she would’ve been dead ages ago.

But then — then something felt different. Her head lifted slightly and she immediately knew what it was.

His scent.

Her mate.

Why was he here?

Why would he come?

Elain knew she hadn’t been the kindest to him. In fact, she was the rudest she had ever been to anyone when it came to him.

Lucien.

He wasn’t a bad person. He’d been nothing but kind to her and yet, she couldn’t make herself be more open to him. Previously, it was because she had still been in love with her ex-fiancé who had tossed her to the side in a moment when she needed him most.

But that wound was still there. Mending, but still there.

Now, however, she avoided Lucien because she wasn’t ready for any other alternative he may offer her.

It wasn’t fair. But Elain was in no way going to change the amount of the distance between them. In case — in case he demanded more than she could offer.

So why was he here?

A knock on her door interrupted her thinking and she weakly mumbled, “Come in.”

Elain registered Feyre’s footsteps as she closed the door and came closer to settle by her side at the edge of the bed, placing the tray on the nightstand next to it.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asked and Elain let out a whine.

“Like I want to die.”

Feyre chuckled, rubbing Elain’s arm gently. “I bought you tea and some light food.”

Elain rubbed her cheek into the pillow, glancing at Feyre for a few seconds then averting her gaze. “I know he’s here.”

The room fell silent.

“Yes, he is.” Feyre finally spoke.

“Why?”

“Because he sensed that you’re hurting and wanted to check on you.”

“Why?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“We’re strangers, he doesn’t have to pretend to care.”

“He’s not pretending to care. He does care. You’re his mate and you’re also my sister.”

“I doubt he’s here because he’s worried about his friend’s sister suffering through her cycle.” she said with a snort and then groaned softly as she stretched her body back flat on the bed, hoping to ease some of the tension in it.

Feyre sighed. “You know, he doesn’t want anything from you. He just wants to check on you.”

“I’d rather he didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re strangers.”

“You’ve known each other for a year now and the only reason you’re not any less of strangers is your own fault.” Feyre said firmly and Elain shot her a look.

“What do you want, Feyre?”

“I want you to just stop worrying about him whisking you away and forcing you to be his bride for one minute and actually talk to him.” her sister said softly. “Like it or not, that link will always be there. You avoiding it won’t make it go away. So stop pretending it’s not there and address it so you both can move on.”

Elain eyed Feyre silently, her lips a thin line. Her sister was right, of course. That didn’t mean she wanted to talk to him. Especially in this state.

“Not today.”

“Elain.”

“Not. Today.” she hissed.

Feyre only silently gazed at Elain then sighed and stood. “Fine. I’ll let him know.”

“It probably won’t be for a while.” Elain only managed and watched as Feyre’s mouth turned into a thin line then nod as she opened the door and —

He was standing there. Standing in her doorway.

Lucien had tried to stop himself, tried not to care enough to follow but when he saw a chance, he took it. He just wanted to make sure she was alright. Maybe for once, get a damn word in to this female he was shackled to.

He stood silently outside her door. Debating whether he should knock or wait for Feyre to come out but then he had heard every word in their conversation and the conversation had frozen him to the spot, jaw clenched.

Truly like a deer caught in the wild, she was staring at him as though caught in a dirty act. Still as beautiful as the first time he’d seen her.

Elain bolted up or tried to, and slowly sat up with a soft whimper.

“You don’t have to get up. For once, please don’t.” he said. Please let me say what I have to say so it doesn’t stay bottled in me forever, was what he really wanted to say instead.

Feyre’s gaze hardened at him and he silently stood in the doorway, watching the two sisters exchange glances.

“I thought you were going to wait downstairs.” Feyre finally asked, turning back to him.

“Nuala had hot pads to help Elain. I offered to bring them up.” he stated dryly.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Elain replied, her cheeks flushing that he was standing at her door. That he had actually come up. How would she avoid him now?

“No, I didn't have to.” he agreed, then held out the pad to Feyre. “ But I wanted to. I know you’re in pain and uncomfortable.”

He watched as Feyre silently took the pad from him and brought it back to Elain’s side where they exchanged a silent conversation that had him dropping his gaze to his feet, the back of his neck heating. When was he ever going to be in a place that didn’t make him feel like scum?

“I don’t think now is a really good time.” Feyre said, walking back towards him. “Elain is pretty tired, perhaps another day we can —”

“When?” he said through clenched teeth and he felt both females pause, his eyes still on his feet. “When, Elain? When will you spare me some of your time so we can finally talk about this?”

“Lucien —” Feyre began but he held up a hand gently, finally locking gazes with his mate.

“I just want to say my piece and maybe I’m a bastard to be saying it with her in this state, but at least I know she won’t walk away and I can finally say what I have to say.” he continued.

Elain’s eyes widened slightly and then she averted her gaze, like she always did around him.

“And what do you have to say?” she asked quietly.

“Do me the dignity and at least look at me when I’m speaking, please.” he said quietly but firmly.

He watched as Elain met his gaze and they shared a moment of silence. A moment where frustration, longing, sorrow, and hurt — so much hurt was exchanged in that gaze.

Feyre stood silently between them but Lucien’s gaze never wavered from Elain’s.

“Yes?” she asked him.

“A year. A year has passed and you’ve ignored me.” he began, a hand moving to grasp the doorframe. “I can’t blame you. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. But we’re mates. That bond, that tie is always going to be there hanging over our heads whether we want it to or not.” Lucien swallowed trying to choke down his frustration, his shame. “But you are very arrogant to assume that I asked for this. That I want to be your mate.”

He watched her eyes widen.

“You don’t want a mate? That’s fair. I didn’t want one either.” Lucien continued, choking back a snarl. “I already had the big love of my life. She was everything to me. I thought she was my mate, I was waiting for that mating bond to snap in place but that didn’t happen.” He squeezed his eyes shut, the wood of the doorframe groaning under his grip and his voice softened as he continued, “She was murdered because of me and I have had to live with that for years on end until the Cauldron decided to throw us together.”

He watched her delicate hand fly to cover her mouth, eyes widened, but in horror this time. He only gave her a tight smile.

“So forgive me for saying this again but, it is very bold of you to assume I am sitting here and asking about you because I am blindingly pining for your affection.” he said, his voice deadly calm. “I am not some rabid animal that is trying to hunt you. I am not some — some filth that is trying to force anything on you. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you. But the cauldron put us together for some reason or another. It wasn’t what you wanted and it most certainly wasn’t what I wanted or expected. All I ask is that you give us a chance.”

Elain swallowed, her chest rising and falling at his harsh words, at the tone. “A chance at what?”

“To know if there’s anything between us worth fighting for.” he answered. “To know if you’re worth any more effort on my part.”

“Lucien.” Feyre warned but he only held up a hand again.

“I don’t mean it as an insult. I’m not looking for a mate. Not after —” he cut himself off with a swallow then continued, “What I am looking for is a partner. Someone who will be my friend. Someone who will share the terrible moments as well as the good ones. You once said to me that no one ever looked at you, never saw you. You wanted someone who will. Well, that’s what I want too. Someone who sees me, Lucien, and stays.”

A heavy silence fell in the room as Lucien took a deep breath and Elain nervously fiddled with her sleeping gown, at loss for words. Feyre silently watching them both.

Finally, Lucien spoke up again from his position at the door. The position he hadn’t moved from, wouldn’t move from. Not until she let him in.

“The cauldron seems to think you’re it, Elain.” he said, glancing at her once more. “But the cauldron isn’t always right. Maybe we’d be great mates. Maybe we wouldn’t. Maybe we could be friends. Maybe we won’t. But the least — the least you could grant me, us, is a chance to talk about it.”

He watched as her gaze flickered from his face and back to her hands and he didn’t miss the slight trembling of her lips.

“I didn’t ask for this either and I’m not looking for you to love me. I’d like to at least be your friend.” he added softly. “But if you really don’t want that — if you don’t want anything to do with me, then that’s fine, but we need to discuss that. You want me to see you? I do. I see you. More importantly, I feel you all the time. I feel everything that you’re going through and I understand. But please understand this, I cannot and won’t stand having no closure on this any longer. I can’t.”

He heard his voice crack on the last word and lowered his hands that has been gripping the door back to his sides. Again, Lucien felt his whole face heat up as silence enveloped them.

Say something. He wanted to beg. Say anything.

As though she heard him, Elain finally spoke up. “Would you have cared to want to be my friend if I wasn’t your mate?” she asked and his head snapped up to meet her gaze drilling into him. “Would I have mattered to you then?”

“You are Feyre’s sister, someone who is a close friend of mine. I would’ve cared about you because you’re her sister and then as we got to know each other, I would’ve cared about you for you.” he replied. “You’re important as your own person, Elain but...you haven’t given me a chance to get to know you.”

“And now? The only reason you want to get to know me is because of this bond?”

“Would you even know I existed if it wasn’t for the bond? Are you giving me a chance to get to know you despite it?”

Elain fell silent at that and he watched her swallow before answering, “He still has a place in my heart.”

“She still has one in mine.” he only replied.

He watched her gaze drift down to her hands as she fiddled with her fingers again but Lucien had had enough. His eyes locked on Feyre, “Heated massages always work well. My mother used to use this special lotion that stays heated as it’s rubbed in. It helped to alleviate the discomfort. I told the twins about it and Cerridwen went to get some from a shop in the city that I looked in once. I thought it might help.” he said quietly then his gaze flickered to Elain. “Feel better. Find me when you do.”

Lucien whirled on his heels but saw and heard nothing around him as he blindly made his way to the front door of the estate and winnowed out, winnowing back to his own bedroom, hoping for once, maybe today, he wouldn’t choke on his own frustrations.

#elucien #elucien fanfics #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #gfics #fic: quiet thunder #pre-acosf

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28gaugeshotgunshells · 2 months

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TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S A CROWD

.- TWD, Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Shane Walsh -. part two

__________ A/N: Oh my gosh! I was trying to edit the original and I mis-clicked and deleted it, so here's the re-uploaded version. Thank you all again for your support. This is the second part to TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S A CROWD! It's recommended that you read that one first for the best experience. __________

It's quiet for a moment, Glenn merely staring at you in a haze of confused surprise. He opens his mouth to speak, and yet nothing comes out; the only audible noise around remains the swooshes of the country breeze. "You mean.. a pregnancy test?" He finally asks, gentle brows furrowed in confusion. "I-.." You pause, before taking in a breath and slowly nodding your head. "Yes. I'd really appreciate if you could.. be discreet about going out and getting that for me."

"YOU'RE PREGNANT!!?!" Glenn suddenly shouts super loud! Goddamn!! Bro could not keep a secret for shit what the fuck!!

"SHUT YOUR FACE GLENN! SHUTUP!!" You shout, covering his mouth with your hand.

"WHAUHOK!!" His voice comes out all muffled, and after giving him the bitch fit death glare for ten seconds you take your hand off.

"YOU! GO GET ME IT NOW!! AND YOU DONT TELL ANYONE!! or else you'll wake up outside of the shitty ass farm fence that doesn't do anything to protect us... and you'll be all alone.. and when you cry no one will hear you.. except the monsters will hear you.. and then they'll eat you up.. or whatever the hell Carol says.. I mean me.. I mean GO GET ME MY SHIT!!!!"

"Um ok." Glenn replies. Then there is silence... and then it smells really bad.

"Awe man.. silent fart." Glenn whispers as he turns around in disappointment and walks off. "OH WAIT! AM GONNA BRING MAGGIE!" He suddenly shouts.

"WHAT NO GLENN! DONT YOU FUCKING DARE! I SAID KEEP IT A SECRET!!!" You shout.

"AM GOING TO GO GET MAGGIE!" Then Glenn runs off!! that little shit!!

You shake your head in anger and then walk off, that fat hoe better bring you back your pregnancy test! You walk back to the residential camp part of the farm, side eyeing Hershel's house as you went. Why did those fat hoes make you sleep outside.. and why was Rick okay with being so hobo.

You miss TV and sitting on the couch.

You let out a large sigh as you walk, but then are interrupted by the sound of distant giggling. You look over and see Carl showing Shane a rock.

"Um, buddy that's gross don't be doin' that." Shane says, his voice heavily southern accented.

Carl says something but you can't hear it over the sound of your inner rage!! SHANE NEEDS TO STAY AWAY FROM YOUR BOY.

Suddenly you bolt over. "HEY! You need to stay away from him!!" You shout at Shane.

Shane frowns at you. "Listen I-"

"Hey mom look-" Carl tries to say.

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT SHANE!" You shout back.

"hey mom."

"I wasn't trying to-" Shane attempts to interject.

"mom."

"I DON'T CARE! GET AWAY!" You hiss.

"MOM!!" Carl shouts at the top of his lungs as he shoves a rock in your face.

"WHA-" Your eyes finally focus on the rock.. it.. says poop on it.. and the poop is written with some weird brown substance.. Carl pulls it back and starts laughing his ass off, he laughs so hard that blood starts spurting out of his nose and onto you.

"AHAHAAH- AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He exclaims.

"OH DAMMIT! CARL!" Shane tries to help but you give him the 'gtfo!!' look and he leaves. And so, you deal with Carl's bloody nose all by yourself, and wait for the return of Glenn. But his ass is taking forever.. so you get mad. and take matters into your own hands. You storm up to Dale's RV.

"Oh hey (name)ie poo." Dale coos, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Hi dale!" You say very passive aggressively. "Guess what! There's this cloud outside that looks exactly like my toes!"

Dale practically jumps out of the RV and starts aggressively looking all over the sky. You take this moment of distraction to steal one of the guns off the counter and shove it in your pants. You then quickly get out of the RV like you didn't do anything. "

WHERE! WHERE?!" Dale shouts at you.

"I FORGOT!!" You yell back as you run away to the car area.

Dale doesn't even ask you why you're running because he's so obsessed with looking for that one cloud in the sky. You let out a loud phew noise as you head up to the cars. You tap your chin as you look them over. "Hmmm..."

They all look hobo so you let out an angry sigh and just pick the yellow one. You hop in and turn the keys that were in the ignition for whatever reason and then you drive off at full speed. As you drive into town for the pregnancy test you wonder what the hell is taking Glenn and Maggie so long.

--------------

meanwhile

"Hey Glenn."

"What's up, Maggie?"

"English or Spanish?"

--------------

NYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. That is the sound of your car driving. "oh yeah I love driving." You say BEFORE HITTING SOME WAKLKER AND HAVING YOUR CAR GO FLYING WHAM!!! You scream and are so scared before everything goes dark..

--------------

Back at the farm, it's gotten really dark. Shane is a stubborn bitch so he's looking around for you because he wants to talk...

"Pookie?" Shane calls out, then he gasps. "POOKIE IS MISSING!"

--------------

Later on you wake up in the dark!

"Rrraaghh.. raggghh!!"

"SHUTUP CARL! I'M TRYNA SLEEP!" You shout instinctively as your eyes shoot open. Your head hurts like a motherfucker, and you can hardly see.

Your eyes take a minute to adjust to the dark.. but when they do.. you see some fat walkur trying to get at you through the windshield!!

"NAH! BROS CLAWING AT ME LIKE IM AN ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET!" You exclaim looking at the big daddy- you mean.. walker.. trying to eat you!! why was it kinda bad though... You think as uour face gets all hot and warm.. like really hot and warm like you had a fever or something... and then you kind of start sweating..

You quickly push those thoughts out of your head because you remember you are a married woman!! you can't have two affairs on your hands!! oopsie poopsie!

Quickly you do some really cool moves and grab your gun somehow and then you shoot the walker, the gunshot being so close hurts the shit outta your ears but like mama raised a fighter not a bitch or whatevr so you climb outta dat car and get running away!! back to the farm!! After a minute of running though you got kind of exhausted so you stopped to catch your breath.. and then you just started walking.

About like 30 minutes passed when you saw headlights nearing and you were like NAH!! who's that!!! and so you were about to jump behind a tree but then you heard a distant "LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING!"

And you were like oh!! So when the car approached you hopped in!!

Shane spoke your name firmly, "What in the world are you doing out here?" He then asked.

But you didn't want to deal with his whiny clingy bullshit so you were like UMMM!! and then you pulled him in for a kiss!! OOPSIE POOPSIE!! then you pulled back and smacked him across the face.

"UGH IM MARRIED WHAT THE HELL!!"

"wHAT YOU KISSED ME!"

"DRIVE ME HOME NOW!!" Then you rode back in silence... When you got back to the farm it was pitch black, but everyone was outside of Hershel's house in a circle.. this was either the start of singing campfire songs and then participating in a crazy dance circle.. or you were getting an intervention.

You get out of the car before Shane and then run up to the circle because you just spotted Glenn. Shane follows shortly after you. You give Glenn the death stare before you look back at the others.

"GUYS WHAT IS GOING ON." You shout.

"No, wut is goin' on wit you!" Rick replies. "You were missin'! Where did you go?"

"I was OUT. okay." You reply, looking away from him.. you didn't want to tell him why you left...

"OUT doin' WUT!? Cheatin' on me again!?" Rick claps back.

EVERYONE GASPS!! and stares at you in shock.

"EXCUSE ME!? HOW DARE YOU! I NEVER DID THAT." You shout.

"I'm not stewpid..." Rick replies, shaking his head.

"mommy what test did you cheat on.. you're gonna have to retake it now.." Carl whispers.

"UM! SPEAKING OF TESTS! (NAME) IS PREGNANT!!" Glenn suddenly shouts.

"WHAT THE FUCK GLENN!"

"UM UM!! I CANT KEEP SECRETS!" Glenn cries out as he opens his bag and then quickly hurls the pregnancy test at your face before running away.

IT HITS YOUR FACE WITH A SMACK AND FALLS ON THE GROUND!! EVERYONE GASPS AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"YOU BITCH!!" You flip him off as he runs away.

"IM GONNA BE A DADDY!?" Shane and Rick shout in unison, both holding their head in their hands out of pure shock.

"AY! WUT!" Rick glares at Shane.

"NAW!" Shane glares back.

THEN THEY START DOING A PUNCHOUT AGAIN! SHANE KEEPS TRYING TO STRANGLE RICK WHILE RICK KEEPS TRYING TO SMACK HIS BUTT?! THEY FALL ON THE GROUND AND THEY ARE STILL GOING AT IT!!

"Dogfight!!!!!!!!!!!" Carol shouts.

THEN TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE DALE JUMPS ON TOP OF THEM, "Group hug.." He says as he creepily caresses them.

"WHAT!!!" They both scream as they suddenly stop fighting and hop up off the ground.

"what.. what happened.. huh.. where am I.." Dale whispers as he wanders back to his RV.

"uhhhh." Rick says.

Then you all stand there in silence.

"She's mah wife so it's mah baby." Rick breaks the ice.

"Um, I didn't pull out so it's MAH baby." Shane retorts. "

WHY YOU SUMOFA-!" Rick starts winding up another punch but then Andrea steps in!!

"guys stop this isn't you."

"ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." Rick ums.

You space out while all of this happens.. everything goes silent for you.. what were you gonna do.. and then your eyes flicker over to your left arm.. wait.. what was that.. You look.. and see.. a bite!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"OHHH!" You suddenly exclaim in realization, causing everyone's head to snap your way.

"What!?" Everyone replies.

"GUYS! I'm not pregnant! I'm just bit!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

#rick grimes x reader #shane walsh x reader #twd #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #fanfiction #reupload #love triangle #part two #Two's company #twd s2 #x reader #female reader #fem reader #reader insert #embarrassed I accidentally deleted the original

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cyandreamsinwords · 2 months

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Cut and Run — Pt 5 (BoaWT AU)

Again, none of this is cannon to the main fic, I just like to self indulge. (1.9 k)

Link to the main fic here

A/N: Finally got some time to play with the AU again! I'm thinking one or two more parts to this one before I maybe start playing around with another.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

“Mini Moon, is Remus letting you up past your bedtime?” Her father asked gleefully as Lyra threw herself into his arms. He and the little boy he’d brought were soaked through, his wet hair hanging over her uncomfortably, though not enough for her to let go. Remus had grabbed a towel and was trying to coax the little boy over so he could wrap him in it, all while throwing a dangerous look her father’s way.

“Your sudden arrival back woke her, actually,” he grouched, drying down his hair before pulling the towel around him. “We were sound asleep up till then.”

Her father knocked noses with her. “Wonderful. Then we don’t have to wait till morning to say hello again.”

“Good luck getting her back to sleep with all the commotion.”

"Who says I want her going back to sleep? We haven't seen one another for a full day!" Her father spun her around waiting for her to start giggling before he stopped. "Besides, I need to introduce her to someone."

Coming down onto his knees, he placed her down on the ground between him and the boy. Lyra noticed he was a thin kid, taking up even less space than she did. His hair was messy in a way that would have had grandmother in a fury, and his eyes squinted at them in the darkness of the shed. Under the towel, she could see he wore funny clothes that didn’t fit him right, like they were meant to be on a bigger kid.

"Lyra, I want you to meet Harry," her father said, motioning to him. "He's my good friend James' boy. His and Lily's. Harry, this is my daughter, Lyra." Her father smiled at them. “Now the two of you can be best friends as well.”

When he stepped closer, and the meager light hit his face, she could see a horrible scar stretching across his forehead. Lightning continued to flash outside, making her wonder if that’s what happened when you got hit by a bolt of it. He stared at her, giving a short wave before dropping his hand.

Lyra stepped back, at this point in her life having not met many children her own age, feeling shy all over again, just like she had with Remus. He didn’t look like a particularly friendly boy, with his thin stare and suspicious expression. She looked up to her father for reassurance, and he just kept smiling between them.

“Look at you two,” he said happily. “Well on your way to becoming best friends.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Lyra worried that her father would become more interested in Harry than he was her, so she stuck closely to him all night, shaking herself awake so she could be sure she remained stitched to his side and not laid away in bed as soon as she closed her eyes. She did the same the following day, her father patiently holding her back. But it seemed she had nothing to worry about from the boy, as he did nothing to insert himself anywhere. Her father and Remus had to coax him to join them at the table, and he only did so after much prodding, and he sat there with them like the experience was foreign to him. He otherwise stayed seated on the singular bed in the small shack, observing but never taking part.

Harry was good at making food disappear. Whenever their meals were served up, Lyra would turn a baleful stare at her father and silently ask for something tastier, would turn a second one Remus’ way to see if he’d cook her something instead, and by the time she turned back, his portion was gone. Lyra, still not a fan of her father’s cooking, had started to slide her own portions over onto his plate, watching it vanish before her eyes. It had become a sort of game with herself, seeing how much and what all Harry would eat, and so far it had been everything.

In the start, his silent observation made her nervous, like at any moment he might do something unexpected. She made sure that if she wasn't holding tightly to her father, she did so with Jumper, her stuffed frog, because she wouldn't risk him taking that, even if he hadn't tried to. She sacrificed other toys to him, like her blocks and color pages, the stuffed toys she didn’t much care about. But he never touched them, even when she inched them closer to him, afraid he was aiming for something better.

He just sat quietly and waited to be spoken to or instructed, no matter the temptation. And gradually, he started feeling like less of a threat and more like a mildly animated rolly polly in the corner.

Remus had been upset when her father had brought Harry here, though he denied it when she’d asked. They’d argued about it quite a bit, always using those quite harsh whispers on the other end of the room that she could still hear, though that gradually stopped. Like her, he watched him with the same level of intensity, though not out of feeling nervous or threatened, but out of growing concern. When Harry never quite settled in, he seemed to be in agreement with him that it was best that he came to them.

“You should try and play with Harry some, Lyra,” he would tell her as they both watched him sitting in the corner. “I think he may like that very much.”

Lyra leaned close, cupping her mouth to his ear to whisper properly (because he and her father didn’t know how). “But I’m really scared to. I don’t know if he likes me.”

Remus nodded sympathetically. “It can be scary, trying to make new friends. I had a lot of trouble with it when I was a kid. But I really think the both of you could use one. Give it a shot.”

She pressed her cupped hand against his ear again. “But he’s a stranger!”

Now he smiled, leaning back to give her nose a gentle tap with his knuckle. “So was I not too long ago, Little Moon. I was scary too once, wasn’t I?” She nodded. “Now you and I get to be friends. Aren’t you glad you gave me a chance?”

She gave this some thought before nodding. Now that she was no longer scared of Remus, she was happy to spend time with him, and he still told her stories and let her help him when it was his turn to cook. They even shared nicknames, and that felt really special, especially when her father called him his moons.

At some point she’d begun to relax around Harry. Really, Remus had been right, it was a lot like her feelings about him at one point: he didn’t pose the threat she thought he might when he first arrived, and he’d begun to just slot into their lives. Harry was quiet, and he was strange, but that was all.

The seasons were threatening to turn, the skies going gray as it threatened to snow soon, and both her father and Remus were out checking the exterior of the shack, the faint murmur of them casting floating through the cracks in the walls. Without the extra pair of feet inside, Lyra had all her toys spread across the floor, taking turns playing with each in short intervals. Harry, as usual, sat over on their bed, watching.

Then, Harry did something he’d never done, tentatively sliding off the bed and walking over. Watching him do this out of the corner of her eye, she stopped playing to watch what he’d do next. She didn’t turn to him, made no show of having seen him do it, not sure what if anything she should do about it. She sat in complete stillness and waited for him to make a move.

His hand hovered over one of her books, looking to her for permission before opening it. Feeling suddenly shy again, she curled in on herself a bit more, but nodded her approval nonetheless, not as possessive over her books as she was her toys.

His eyes were as greedy as whenever they ate, taking in the pictures hungrily. He was gentle with the pages though, taking each one up carefully and lightly tracing his fingers over the images.

"What's it about?" he asked, and that was somehow more surprising than him coming over in the first place. Harry rarely talked unless it was to respond to a question he was asked directly.

Overcoming her nervousness, Lyra crawled over to see which one he’d grabbed. “It’s about Horus the owl. He’s the first delivery owl there ever was, and he taught all his friends to deliver letters too.”

Harry’s eyes got a bit brighter and he looked less scary with that bit of light in them. “Owls can deliver the mail? We just had a mailman.”

“Like a person? But what if they have to deliver mail really far away?”

“They drive their car there.”

“What’s a car?”

Harry reached and took some paper and crayons and began to draw. Lyra came closer and looked over his shoulder as he did, fascinated by the image coming together. As he got further, she realized they were the weird metal boxes with windows and doors that would go by her grandmother’s house. “Those are what muggles ride in!” His odd behavior suddenly made all sorts of sense. “Are you a muggle?”

“What’s a muggle?” He looked nervous. “Is that a bad thing?”

Her grandmother would say so. She did not like muggles or the boxes they rode in and was very loud about that fact. Had she been here, and suspected that Harry was a muggle boy, she’d probably have done something very nasty to him. But Lyra was finding there were kinder people than her who’s opinions she valued more now. “We should ask my father. He would know.”

Shrugging, Harry nodded, picking up his crayon again. “I’ll draw a mailman too. So you know what those look like. They wear uniforms.”

Lyra decided in that moment that Harry wasn’t so bad. He didn’t know how things worked here, just like her when her father first picked her up. She even delighted in the idea that she might be the one to show him. And in return, maybe he could show her things like cars and mailmen, other muggle things grandmother hadn’t told her about.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

When night came, and the shack had been properly enchanted again to keep in the heat and the two had been changed into their pajamas, Lyra picked up the book and brought it to her father. "Harry wants this one," she said, holding it out to him to read.

Harry bulked, shaking his head, but her father nodded in approval, pulling her up into his lap. "Then that's the one we'll read. Harry, would you like to sit on my lap as well so you can see?"

Harry shook his head some more, instead positioning himself to look over the arms of the chair.

Her father began to read, both the children’s heads and eyelids growing heavier with each page. Harry would sometimes look confused at something and turn to her, and she would make her father stop and explain, which he did so patiently. When that book was finished, Lyra asked for a second and then a third for them, and her father only relented to her demands once Harry was sagging so heavily against the chair arm that he looked about ready to tip over.

Neatly tucked into bed, Lyra felt really excited about tomorrow, when they would both be able to play together again.

#burning of a withered tree #fanfic #boawt au #fanfic aus #Cut and Run AU

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 9 months

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Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike has a gift for you.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI!!! fingering, (unprotected) p-in-v showersex. And cat shenanigans, Mike behaving inappropriately around boobs... That kind of stuff.

A/N:

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @livisss @ylva-syverson @sweetandgentlecreature

“Babe, can you grab some eh… Yes, Nyx, you can— Jesus Christ! Babe… Cats. Snacks. Please!” You look over the counter into the living room, where Mike is laying on the couch, covered in — and being screamed at by — his cats. The only one sitting next to him, rather than on top of him, is Sy. Your favorite orange menace is glaring at you, impatiently awaiting your return to the couch.

Nyx leaps off the couch and onto the counter as soon as she hears the drawer that holds her precious treats, Nova lazily taking her place on Mike’s chest. Little Mikey — who is still called that even though the name isn’t exactly apt anymore, because he’s grown so much that he no longer fits in the pockets of Mike’s hoodies, much to his dismay — pokes his head out of Mike’s sweater.

“What is he doing?” you ask, barely able to contain your laughter.

“Being a pain in my ass, as per usual,” Mike sighs. “But the cutest fucking pain in my ass I’ve ever seen, so it’s okay.” Your friends still don’t understand how you were able to make peace with the fact that Mike will never look at you the way he looks at his cats. The simple reason is that you know you’ll never look at Mike the way you look at your cats. You mean… his cats. Right?

Sy jumps you as soon as you sit down, Nyx and little Mikey follow soon after.

“Ow, Mikey, that’s my boob!” There’s honestly no saying which Mikey that remark is aimed at: it could easily have been both of them.

“He takes after me,” Mike says lovingly while he manages to grab a handful of tit while pretending to stroke Little Mikey.

“Hey, Mikey, that’s… Yeah, he does take after you,” you sigh as you try to feed all four cats an equal amount of treats. Mike eventually helps you by pulling Sy and little Mikey away before they can make a play for the last few treats. They’re Nova’s, end of story.

“I don’t like how they walk all over my sweet little baby,” you coo while giving her the head pats she so desperately meows for.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike laughs, “I’ve been meaning to tell you she’s got you fooled, babe.”

“What?” You turn to him — or rather; try to, because Sy lets out a dark meow that sounds more like a growl when he feels you’ve shifted too much.

“Yeah,” he said with a grin, “she’s being a pouty little baby around you, but she can take these fuckers in her sleep. They don’t mess with her when you’re not here.”

You turn to Nova, who is lying on her back in your lap, looking up at you with the biggest, most innocent-looking blue eyes imaginable. It’s obvious: whatever shenanigans are going on here, she hasn’t done anything. Mike laughs when you tell him that.

“Uhuh,” he says, “sure, Sweetcheeks. It’s okay, though! I spoil her too. Look at that little face!” He gently touches her nose with the tip of a finger, and she rewards him for his attention with a gentle, yet very loud purr.

“And how about this little face?” You chuckle under your breath as you gently move Nova off your lap and into Mike’s — Sy just bolts at some point — and nestle into Mike’s side, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Not nearly as cute,” Mike says, but you don’t agree.

“How about you come with me and I’ll show you exactly how cute I think your face is?” you tease. Mike squirms when your cold hand worms its way into his sweater. “Fucking ow, Mikey!” Ten tiny claws have found their way into your hand — apparently the space inside of Mike’s sweater may now only be occupied by (parts of) Mike, little or otherwise.

“Serves you and those icicles you call hands right,” Mike says as he shivers dramatically.

“Well, maybe there’s a way to get me nice and warmed up,” you mutter with your lips pressed against his neck. “Come take a shower with me?”

“But I’m comfortable right here on this couch, with my cats,” Mike moans. You forgive him immediately; it’s not like you’ve never declined some naked quality time with just Mike because you were just too content with Nova purring in your ear.

Luckily for you, Mike has a weakness… “The shower will have significantly more naked boobs than the couch,” you try.

It works — of course it works! Mike is on his feet in seconds, leaving a very offended Nova on the couch, meowing loudly in protest.

“The f-" Mike exclaims as he takes a break from kissing your neck to look at your feet, where something furry brushed past your legs. “Of course.”

It’s Nyx, now soaking wet, of course, and meowing like her life depends on it.

“You did this, dumbass,” Mike grumbles as he picks her up. “Fuckin' wrong kind of wet pussy, dammit.” You barely manage to fight back a chuckle, and Mike blows you a quick kiss when he notices you heard what he said, before taking Nyx out of the shower cabin and wrapping a towel around her.

“Did you forget to close the door?” you ask curiously. He never does – he knows this is the result of that

“Nope,” he sighs, “but I’ve been suspecting for a while that this little monster can open doors. Guess I have my proof now.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” you ask. Nyx didn't sound like she enjoyed being wet much – although she seems to prefer it to being dried off, which she's fighting very actively.

“Yes, she's just being dramatic,” Mike snorts as he finishes towel-drying her. “Besides, this was entirely her fault. Yeah, you. You don't have to go everywhere I go, little weirdo.” She clearly doesn't agree with him.

After tossing the now semi-dry cat into the hallway and locking the door behind him – but not before checking if any of the others have snuck into the bedroom without him noticing – he joins you in the shower again.

“Where were we?” he says, making you laugh as he grabs a handful of boob.

“Right about there,” you chuckle.

Ever since Mike moved out of his parents' house and into his apartment, quickies in the shower practically all the private time you get together – and you both greedily make the most of what little time you get. Nova and little Mikey go absolutely nuts if you don't let them into the room even when – no, especially when – you’re getting it on, and Sy and Nyx are just obnoxiously loud at all times, no matter where you put them.

To add to the insanity, little Mikey has developed a habit of attacking feet. It's easy to guess why that isn't especially conducive to a romantic environment.

Then again, even limited to the shower – or those sporadic moments you decided it was worth wrangling four cats and listening to their complaints through the bedroom door – you have plenty of fun together. Besides, waking up with a snuggly Nova in your arms and Mike behind you with his arms tightly wrapped around you is just about the best feeling in the world.

Second to that feeling, is the exact thing Mike is doing to you right now; gently sucking on your neck while furiously pumping two fingers into you. He’s really gotten good at that.

“Fuck, Mikey, don’t stop,” you mutter. The remark is redundant at this point; he’s got you.

“Yes, victory!” Mike says with a big grin on his face that you kinda, maybe want to slap off, because he’s being impossible. “Now turn around so I can fuck you.”

It’s not an order of any kind, it’s a very directly phrased request born of sheer impatience, as evidenced by the fact that Mike unceremoniously grabs your hips and attempts to turn you around as he speaks.

“Bedroom?” you try, knowing you don’t want to wait, either. It’s that silly voice inside your brain that still tells you you’re a lady (you’re not) and you have to keep a sense of decorum (you don’t) to keep Mike from thinking you’re a slut (he already knows that, and he loves you for it!)

“Nope,” he replies. “Want you. Now.”

Oh. When he puts it like that… You finally give in to his greedy hands, allowing him to turn you to face the wall. When he pushes into you, you clench your fists and let out a loud moan.

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of you,” Mike groans, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. It’s interesting how he seems to speak your thoughts so often — not that you would go as far as saying the two of you are totally in sync, or anything. God knows that’s impossible with Mikey, who isn’t even in sync with himself. But he’s yours, and you love him, and you can’t help but hope that you’ll indeed never get enough of each other.

He’s patient today, keeping the rhythm of his thrusts slow and steady. That alone would drive you nuts, but it’s the soft kisses to your shoulder and neck that really do you in, and soon you’re begging him for more — faster, harder… anything.

He chuckles. “Let me enjoy this,” he moans into your ear before teasingly nipping at your earlobe, his breath already revealing that he won’t be enjoying this for much longer, anyway. So you concede, your moans echoing off the tiled walls as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate and torturously gentle.

It’s the pressure of his fingers on your breast that eventually betrays him, letting you know he’s struggling — that he’s close, but not quite willing to have this be over yet. He wants to give you more, he always does, but he’s fighting something he can’t hold off forever.

Unsurprisingly, the grunt he lets out when he cums sounds more than a little disappointed, and you grab his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, keeping him as close as humanly possible for a while. You lean your cheek against the cool tiles of the wall, sighing deeply while Mike’s lips explore your neck.

“That was good,” you mutter, making him chuckle.

“That was short,” he replies. Who cares?

“It was great,” you repeat, not prepared to take any of his bullshit.

“Hey Sweetcheeks,” Mike says softly, and you let out a frustrated grunt.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. There’s no such thing as five more minutes, especially now that the cats know you’re awake.

“I brought you coffee and breakfast.” Mike presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and — as per usual — Nova impatiently headbutts him out of the way. For the first fifteen minutes after waking up, you’re hers. Mike should know that by now.

The breakfast Mike brought you is an avocado and fried egg bagel, which means that eating it is not without risk — especially in bed. Nyx has this annoying obsession with eggs, which she immediately showcases by trying to steal it off your breakfast.

Luckily, Mike quickly provides the cats with their own breakfast, which means you get to eat in peace for a change.

You’re just finishing the last bite when they sprint into the room and jump on the bed. Now, all you have to do is wait for Mike to show up, too, and you can start your favorite part of the weekend; cuddling with Mike and your fur babies until someone can come up with a good reason to get out of bed. Last week it was well past noon when you finally decided you’d spent enough time under the covers. Not that moving to the couch had changed much about your activities. It had only added ‘watching TV’ to the mix — a Christmas movie, and you hadn’t even had to beg Mike to watch it with you; he’d volunteered.

Sy gets comfortable in your lap, while Nova climbs up to stick her face in yours. Nyx curls up next to you, waiting for Mike. That leaves little Mikey, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Odd…

“Baby,” you call to Mike, who you hear rummaging around in the kitchen, “where’s little Mikey?”

“Right here,” Mike says a little while later, when he comes back into the bedroom with his fluffy namesake in his arms.

Mike drops the cat on your stomach, and as soon as you pet him, you notice he’s wearing something around his neck. The cats don’t wear collars, which prompts you to investigate further.

Quickly, you find it’s not a collar; it’s a ribbon, with a note attached to it.

Dear mom, We miss you when you’re away, Always screaming, keeping dad awake. So for his sanity and his sake, Here’s something we would like you to take.

“You wrote me a poem?” you say with a smile before even really looking at what you’re holding in your hands.

Mike shakes his head. “They wrote you the poem, I promise.”

His tone is so serious that you can’t help but burst into laughter. “God, you’re such a dork, I love you!” You can’t help but notice that there’s something different about him this morning. He’s nervous. Fidgety — more than usual, at least. As if this is something way bigger than you realize at the moment.

It’s then that you realize you haven’t even taken a look at what he’s giving you, but as soon as you do…

In the palm of your hand, there’s a key — a house key, to be precise.

“We don’t want you to leave anymore,” Mike whispers as he pulls you firmly against him, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“You’re giving me a key to your place?” you stammer. Somehow, you get the feeling your voice is barely audible over the sound of your heart.

“I mean,” Mike mutters even more nervously than before, “I’m… I’m actually hoping I’m giving you a key to our place.”

With tears in your eyes, you turn your head to look at him. Mike’s hopeful (but terrified) baby blues stare back at you. “You want me to move in?”

“You can think about it… Or, if you’re not ready, that’s—” You raise a hand to get him to shut up, and when that doesn’t work, you kiss him square on the mouth. Hard.

“Yes, Mike. A thousand times yes.”

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