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velvetsehun · 4 years

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Born to Die| OSH | 07

pairing: Oh Sehun x Reader genre: Mafia!Sehun rating: 18+ warnings: violence, gun use, mature language, smut (in future chapters), slow burn. words: 14k summary: a collusions of worlds is supposed to kill, but what if it can do something else? A/N: omg chapter 7? we’ve made it this far? I’m so proud we’re on this journey together! I don’t have much to stay other than, thank you for sticking around and that i hope you enjoy the chapter, remember feedback is important so drop into my askbox once you’re done, lets chat ;)

TW// Warning this part contains some material that might be sensitive to readers as it depicts scenes of blood, mentions of medical procedures and violence, readers discretion is advised.

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The night was a swirling mixture of crisp air and the sharpness that came with living in the city; the residue of the day's smog coating the sky to the point the stars were blocked of their life and you were left with a fuzz of light on the horizon; buildings too far away to think about casting their lights onto the blank polluted canvas but regardless, he found himself standing there, shadowed by the darkness and the distance, watching the scene in front of him unfold. The scene of a tragic love story, the story of an ill-matched pair trying to survive in the grasp of the times.

“If you want to get him shouldn’t you do it now?�� One of his men behind him probed, watching his breath curl in the air next to his head, “I mean he’s right there…” And he was right, Sehun was right there, in the sleek car that was highly out of place with its surroundings.

“Where is the fun in that?” The silver-haired man asked amused, the soft wind fluttering his bangs across his forehead; he probably looked like an angel in the night to the right person but right now, he was only shrouded by the darkness, “All the cards aren’t in my hands yet,” He hummed.

“But boss…” The man in question merely raised his hand shushing his counterpart, their eyes watching the girl exit the car; eyes intently staring at the vehicle that began is descent from her.

“Speak when spoken to.” The silver-haired man snapped softly, passing a look over his shoulder to his comrade, “And remember your place.”

His eyes were intense like he was trying to rip you apart with his pupils, a small part of him smirked as he watched your feeble form stumble further into the empty parking lot; walking closer to him like you were drawn to whatever was lurking. It was like watching a deer in a headlight he mused to himself as your eyes flickered around the area, your eyes meeting his in the darkness for a second unknowingly.

“Hello…” Your voice softly fluttered through the empty lot, “Is anyone there?” He could feel a smirk crawl upon his mouth; his teeth making their appearance as he watched you jump at the ring of your phone screeching into the empty lot with you, filling the space he could have used to answer your call.

“O, little dove, I’m right here…”

“Don’t worry Yoora, I’ll be okay…”

A confused grunt passed your lips as Chanyeol’s full weight collapsed onto you, your body struggling to hold the man up from slipping off the counter as you smacked his arm. The fluttering of his breath hitting your neck and the situation causing shivers to slither down your spine. You had no time to think about whoever he was talking about at that moment, your heart clenching slightly as you tried to talk to the man.

“Chanyeol,” You snapped, eyebrows furrow as you heard no response from the man, “For god’s sake, Chanyeol!” You snapped louder, your voice cracking with the intensity of your words.

Silence.

“No no no no…” You panicked slightly before using your full strength to heave him back against the mirror at sat on the wall behind him; his body slamming against it with a dull thud. “Chanyeol come on…” Your voice cracked again, your hand vibrating softly as that reached for his neck, your other hand smacking his cheek slightly.

He looked abysmal, his normally soft tanned skin had blanched itself out into a sickly grey that was stained with the deep red of his blood and littered with already purpling bruises; his breathing shallow and the stab wound on his stomach trickling out said blood steadily. He looked completely worse for wear, and you felt the depth of the situation settle into your bones as your fingers connected with his neck, the slow thud of his pulse quivering against your fingers.

“What the fuck do I do.” You spoke to yourself, pressing the rag from before onto his stomach to try and clot his wound; your stomach turning slightly at the blood staining your hands. “Chanyeol.” You used your free hand to shake him again, in a last-ditch effort that he might respond.

“Fuck…” You breathed at his unyielding silence, your free hand dropping onto the counter to try and steady yourself as your put your best pressure wound; his pockets looked empty so your chance of being able to call one of his brothers was slim to none.

Looking at his face, your remembered Chanyeol’s past haste at being introduced to someone he didn’t know; the vision of him speeding out of your apartment last time filing your head, but as he bled out on your counter you found no choice in the matter, your free hand already fumbling to get your phone before shakily clicking onto your contacts; the tinny ring thrumming in your ear not too long after.

“Come on…” You whispered into the receiver, “Please pick up…” You begged to no one.

“Hello…” The person on the other end started but you quickly cut them off.

“Jeonghan!” You cried softly, your voice crackling with emotion, “Please tell me you’re not working.” You begged softly.

“No, I’m not working,” He sounded concerned, immediately jumping into that tone he used to use with you all the time, “Why is everything okay?” He added quickly, the sound of his mouth pulling down nearly hearable in the receiver.

“Listen Hannie…” Your voice was shaky as you breathed deeply looking at Chanyeol, “I need you to my place immediately, bring your medkit, and tell no one you’re coming” You whispered like someone who might be listening in could hear you.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” He stuttered softly but you quickly cut him off again.

“Jeonghan, please.” You snapped at the man, your temper wearing thin, “Just do it.”

“Okay,” He shushed you softly in his usual tone of voice; trying to calm you down, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?” You felt tears splinter your eyes at his words, you nose sniffling slightly.

“Please just hurry…”

With an aching body and a pounding headache, Baekhyun found himself stumbling through the dense heat of an old building, flames licking the walls as his jacket covered his mouth to filter some smoke out; the heaving of his lungs telling him that this was a mission gone wrong. At first, it seemed like a simple recon mission, a small tip-off that Jongin had got earlier in the week about a potential lead in their current predicament; a quick job like they were used to. But to Baekhyun and Chanyeol, the desolate old building held nothing more than empty rooms and dust, or so it seemed, about an hour into the search it all went wrong. Baekhyun was trying to catch his bearings, the smoke flowing through his airwaves and causing a haziness to blur out his vision.

They had agreed to split up the building’s 8 floors, Baekhyun top four and Chanyeol bottom four; the objective was to see what was lurking around and recon back in the foyer before they checked the basement, due to the ominous nature to Jongin’s tip-off they weren’t exactly sure what they were looking for but remembers Jongin’s words had another fire burning with Baekhyun, beside the one he was already in.

“What the…” Baekhyun frowned slightly, while pushing open one of the ajar doors on the 6th floor, there as the briefest once of light filtering through the bottom of the old wood, the only sign so far that someone other than himself and Chanyeol was here.

The room was a ruin of what was probably once a nice apartment, the dense smell of mildew and rot in the air as Baekhyun took in the scenery; tattered furniture littered the room, the last tenants clearly in a rush to leave. It wasn’t much, an old couch in the centre of the decaying floor and an old dining table tucked in the corner; but what interested him was the blinking red light fluttering from under the couch, a small pain in his chest at what it could be. Baekhyun was still stationed at the door with a frown etched on his face when he decided to crouch on one knee to try to get a better look at what he was looking at, but when the light was just out of eye-line, Baekhyun decided to walk further into the apartment.

His gun was warm in his hand and tucked slightly down to allow him room to use his flashlight as he moved further into the apartment, his boots disrupting the dust that sheeted itself on the floor with each clicking step; he had to admit the place was unnerving, deathly silence coated every inch of the place and the idea of checking out the light wasn’t helping either.

Squaring his shoulder slightly, Baekhyun’s fluttered around the main room of the apartment one last time before he began to crouch again; the gentle thud of him placing down his flashlight on the ground filling his ears and one of his hands braced him to further lower himself down. The dust was a weird texture under his slightly clammy palms, his nose turning up already at the sticking sensation, but he shook himself out of it, opting to angle the flashlight on the floor under the couch instead.

It was still a bit hard to see under the couch but with a squint of his eyes, Baekhyun managed to see what was causing the soft red light; he eyes narrowing into slits before the dilated in size in shock.

The soft red light? Was the countdown on a small explosive, one which only had 3:40 left on the clock.

“Fuck.” Baekhyun swore loudly, pushing himself up quickly to get his phone out his pocket but he froze again when something thudded at the back of his head.

“Stay down.” A warped voice filled Baekhyun’s ears, the cold barrel of a gun pressing into his head, keeping him down. “Or I’ll shoot.” Baekhyun’s teeth ground together; he didn’t have time for this.

“Why don’t you face me then,” Baekhyun ground out, “We can settle this like adults.”

“Stay down.” The voice reiterated.

“Who are you.” Baekhyun tensed out.

“I think you know, don’t you Mr Byun?” Baekhyun frowned at that, the warped voice sounding like it was smirking, “Or can I call you Baekhyun.”

“I’ll ask you again.” Baekhyun spat softly, “Why don’t you face me.” The voice scoffed.

“Because I don’t have a death wish,” They answered.

“I think you do,” Baekhyun tutted softly, his grip tightening on his gun.

Baekhyun didn’t give the voice time to respond before he spun around, avoiding the gun pressed to his head and shoving the assailants hand up to the air; the boom of his shot going off, embedding itself in the ceiling. If felt like there wasn’t even time to take a breath in to react before Baekhyun was standing again; the sole of his boot planting in the stomach of what he could now see was a masked figure – watching them tumble to the ground winded.

He never stopped to survey the room as the beeping from the couch got louder – his hand instantly working to fire his shot off at another man he’d barely seen who was poised at the other end of the room. That didn’t stop anyone though, while the second man was recovering from the shot to his shoulder, the first one who was on the floor jumped up; barrelling towards Baekhyun at an impressive speed. Baekhyun had just enough time to dodge before a punch tumbled into his face; one of his arms coming up in defence to try to knock the man back quickly. The one he shot in the shoulder didn’t stay down too long either and before he knew it, he was fending off a barrage of attacks; the black blurs of their clothing moving with him.

They were sloppy fighters, but they did manage to land a few hits on Baekhyun; the butt of one of their gun’s slamming into his cheek painfully – normally Baekhyun would shoot them down but the way they were piling on him left his trigger hand unavailable to shoot; he spent most of the time deflecting their attacks. When he saw the glint of a blade, that’s when Baekhyun decided enough was enough – the explosive wasn’t going to hold off for him to finish up.

With a yell, Baekhyun managed to get the two men a far distance from him; getting a proper look at them while he did. They both wore black masks on the bottom halves of their face, a small decide attached that was modulating their voices, and what looked like a sheer scarf covering their eyes; this was a planned attack.

Baekhyun, as always, felt no remorse as he pulled his trigger; a violent hum pumping through his veins as he watched the head of the first man ricochet back with a sickening crack, splattering his partner with his brain matter in the process. The second shot was as swiftly as the first, no sarcastic remarks on Baekhyun’s end, just sheer violence as a small grin crept up his face at his carnage. There were no thoughts in Baekhyun’s head, other than a small sense of satisfaction over the killing of those two lackeys.

He couldn’t even find it in himself to ponder over the blood on his hands again, something most of his brothers did after the deed; the beeping in the room increasing with each breath. Taking off into a sprint, Baekhyun only managed to make it past the threshold before a circle of hell decided to open itself up in the place; his body getting flung like a rag doll into the wall opposite the door and with a disgusting thud - Baekhyun it the wall.

The ringing in his ears didn’t privy him to not hearing the 7 other bang’s that resonated throughout the old building, but the aching of his body and the pounding of his head stopped his instinctual movement. He laid on a heap on the floor, the minutes feeling like hours and before he knew it the building around him was up in flames, only the brief mention of his partner's name gracing his lips and he tried to find himself again.

“Maybe we should have listened,” Baekhyun grunted softly to himself while stumbling down one of the higher floors of the building, everything was a mess; most of the floor was missing as it was and the constant fire that kissed the walls and his skin with the sheer heat of it all didn’t exactly help the situation, he needed to find Chanyeol and get out; fast.

It was an old apartment building tucked away near the docks, empty and unused since the inside had rotted beyond repair and teeming with hidden life. If Chanyeol and Baekhyun had been easy to scare, the sheer fact there were various messages written across the walls telling anyone who dare enter to run would have sent them with their tails between their legs, but they weren’t easy to scare, and the look that crossed Baekhyun’s face as he shone his flashlight on the writing was proof. Baekhyun wasn’t quite sure how this all started truthfully, both himself and Chanyeol had no issue getting into the building; the door practically falling off its hinges with rust, and from the get-go, it did seem like the building was truly empty.

Even though he was in imminent danger of the building collapsing in on himself and anyone that was left at any second, Baekhyun still found the energy to yell in a last attempt to find his comrade.

“CHANYEOL,” Baekhyun found himself screaming down one of the empty hallways, his words dissolving into a cough at the smoke that tickled his lungs, spluttering violently into the fabric of his jacket to hack it back up. “COME ON MAN, WHERE ARE YOU?” He hacked again.

The fire was louder than any life in the building, the crackling and whipping sounds of its destruction filling Baekhyun’s ears like hellish white noise, but not even the sound of a response cut through it; it was silence on Chanyeol’s end.

Beads of sweat from the heat hastily dripped down Baekhyun’s face soot and blood-covered face; stinging the cuts that were left on his face from his earlier scrummage. The need to take his jacket off growing more and more with every second he spent in the belly of this beast, but he kept going on, even if the smoke was kicking in, his legs barely stumbling to down the hall to one of the last places Chanyeol could have been.

“Nostromo apartments?” Baekhyun scrunched his nose up at the man standing at Sehun’s desk, “You want me to scope out that shithole? Why?”

“Because of this,” Jongin sighed, plucking a piece of paper from his pocket while their boss looked tensely at his computer screen, “One of our men was slipped it at Yixing’s casino,”

“And what does it say?” Baekhyun pressed with a slight glare, “And better yet, why am I going.”

“It’s just an address,” Jongin shrugged, “Nothing else, just an address.”

“You’re going because it’s your job,” Sehun cut in but not bothering to glance at the man while he typed, “And because nearly everyone else is busy.”

“But-,” Baekhyun began childishly, a scowl on his face.

“No buts.” Sehun refrained from snapping, “And Jesus, take Chanyeol with you, I’m tired of him moping around the damn place.” Sehun bothered to look at him this time, a glare etched into his eyes.

Baekhyun now wished that he’d argued for Sehun to let him go alone, his body barely able to stay upright as he stumbled down the hall to the main stairwell; his face pulling taught as the peaked down, the flames consuming most of the bottom floors and stairs, meaning the only way was up.

“CHANYEOL,” Baekhyun tried yelling again, but he felt his face harden when he was met with more silence; a dark look passing by his face as he remembered one of Sehun’s rules.

“You get separated?” Sehun stated, pointing at his men, “You leave them behind, two of you is more valuable than one to someone else, we can’t have that.”

He wanted to directly oppose Sehun’s rule at that moment, but with the smoke-belching into his lungs, Baekhyun was finding it harder and harder to breathe; his heart gripped in a way he wasn’t comfortable as he moved away from the stairs that led down, his eyes burning with more than the smoke as he stumbled to the stairs that lead up. Moments were blurring together as the smoke inhalation started playing with Baekhyun’s brain, his lungs burning with such an intensity that he thought that maybe he was gonna die on the stairs to the roof, the colours of the fire and the walls melding together, he had finally found himself in hell.

By the time he’d made it to the last stairway up, Baekhyun was grabbing his throat like he was ready to strangle himself – the fire in the building had him breathing in all sorts of nasty chemicals and the blow had knocked another concussion into his fragile skull, he was a mess and a bigger mess at the thought that he’d let one of his best friends go. When Baekhyun found himself shouldering open the roof door with the last of his energy, he wasn’t sure what to do; the soft caresses of clean air feeling like heaven on his heavy chest to the point he felt content with just laying there and waiting for the building to fully collapse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t an option.

His dirty hands wiped the moisture and soot from his eyes as Baekhyun finally staggered to full height; the burning in his torso a distant thought as he looked around at what he could do. Limping towards the edge of the building, he grimaced slightly, he could make the jump to the next roof but probably barely, the building next to him was slightly smaller and a tad out of reach. But as the building gave a horrific grumble, it prompted Baekhyun to make up his mind quickly; the distant sounds of police and firemen on their way not helping either.

Stumbling back a few paces, Baekhyun tenses his shoulders slightly before he took off into a sprint towards the edge of the building; his boot planting firmly on the ledge to boost himself up before he was lifted up and over the side of the building – the world rushing past him in a haze, his body tipping forward slightly as he saw the other building nearing closer and closer. Baekhyun barely managed to roll to catch himself before he found himself sprawled out starfish on the ground, a wheeze pushing itself out his lungs at the impact of landing on the roof, his head still up in the clouds.

“I knew this was a bad idea.”

With every second that passed, you felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest; Chanyeol’s body slumped against you was going a horrible cold temperature, your hands were stained with so much blood that you felt gagging in your throat that reminded you too much of your excursion to the compound to feel comfortable, and the fate of the man in your arms depended on if your ex-boyfriend could get here quick enough. A cardiac arrest might have sounded closer to how you were feeling right now.

At first, you had stood with your hands holding the rag to Chanyeol’s wound as tight as you could muster, but as the blood flow slowed down one of your hands strayed; that hand was tangled softly in Chanyeol’s vibrant red locks, your voice trying its best to stay calm as you tried to keep speaking to him softly in the hopes that he might wake up. It was an odd situation but you felt like you owed it to him, regardless of how the two of you met, Chanyeol had treated you fairly in a situation that called for him to be; he worth at least this amount of kindness, even if he wasn’t regarded as a saint.

The apartment was so quiet, the only thing filling your ears being Chanyeol’s gentle breath, that when you heard the sound of your front door being busted down, you almost felt yourself drop the man in your arms; the image of Jeonghan’s shocked face filling the doorway a few seconds later in what you could only describe as sheer horror.

“Y/n…” Jeonghan started confusedly, but you quickly interrupted him.

“He’s been stabbed, Jeonghan, can we save the questions for when he isn’t bleeding out over me?” You quickly snipped at him.

It was magical to watch Jeonghan’s switch from a normal person to a doctor, his face hardening slightly as he dropped the kit he was holding to rush over; His hand pushing Chanyeol back onto the counter and off you in seconds. It was like watching a wizard work and he produced a small flashlight from his pocket and quickly pried Chanyeol’s eyes open.

“How long has he been out,” Jeonghan asked quickly in a resilient voice, flicking the small light in and out of his eyes before pocketing it again, quickly checking his pulse.

“About 15 minutes,” You stuttered softly, “He was just out when I called, you were the only person I thought could-,” This time it was Jeonghan cutting you off.

“He’s not in shock, not yet anyway,” Jeonghan quickly said, rushing over to his kit to grab a pair of gloves, “We’ll discuss this after I do this okay?” His eyes quickly fluttered to you before he was back to work. With a meek nod, you watched him go.

It seemed all the years of schooling paid off for him, your eyes watching in slight amazement as Jeonghan jumped between jobs; after doing a check for breaks on his ribcage and checking his heart/breathing, the tended to the wound that was glaringly obvious on the bottom of his torso, his fingers gentle as he pried it open to get a proper look.

“Whoever did this wasn’t intending to kill,” Jeonghan mumbled, quickly grabbing a cotton pad stack and rubbing alcohol, “It’s deep not it’s not surgery deep, but he’s lost a lot of blood”

“But no signs of hypovolemic shock,” He hummed much to your confusion, “He’s lost enough to pass out but not enough to kill him,” He explained to you in simpler terms.

“Will he be okay?” You felt a small resemblance of relief.

“I’ll need to stitch his wound,” Jeonghan stated trying to clean as much of the blood up as he could, “You’re typically not supposed to take a knife out of a stab wound, that’s how you bleed out, but you did the right thing clotting the wound,” He glanced at you with a softness in his eyes, some wisps of his blond hair falling into his face from where it was tied back.

“Right now, we need to make sure he doesn’t go into shock, okay?” Jeonghan said gently to you, “That mean’s I need to suture his wound as fast as possible and you’re gonna have to help me move him so I can, can you do that?”

It was then you realised that Jeonghan was talking softer to you because he could see how tense you were and as a way not to freak you out, your heart-melting slightly at his attitude.

“I can try,” You nodded, “But he’s heavy.” Jeonghan hummed.

“Built like that you would be,” He nodded to the fact that Chanyeol was all smooth skin and hard muscle.

“On the count of three okay?” Jeonghan explained, “We’ll move him to the couch, I need him reclined to do his stitches.”

The two of you only glanced at each other once before you both grabbed one of Chanyeol’s arms; fitting them around both of your shoulders and with a deep breath you nodded again, even though he couldn’t see you. Jeonghan wasted no time in counted and before you knew it, the two of you were grunting as you lifted the man that was taller than the two of you.

The walk to your couch felt like a marathon as the two of you barely made it in time to drop the man on the sofa cushions of your couch; Jeonghan instantly taking over the work to lay his patient, lifting his legs onto the couch before making sure his head was properly supported on the other end. Jeonghan didn’t even need to ask before you were scuttling to the bathroom to grab his kit again, making sure you had everything before you ran and passed it to him; watching the doctor in training change his gloves and quickly sanitise his hands for the new pair.

“I need you to get some blankets and a hot water bottle,” He wasted no time in quickly set everything up to stitch the wound close, “His internal body tempt is down due to blood loss so we need to sustain it before his body starts panicking.” You were about to open your mouth to argue with him about something before he passed you a look that would make even a parent scared.

“You don’t need to watch me suture him, don’t do that to yourself; get the stuff please.” He asked you again, “He’s going to be okay.” You merely shook your head before you darted off to the kitchen, boiling the kettle quicker than light.

You felt like a terrified mother as you made haste around the kitchen and apartment, trying to avoid looking at Jeonghan working; the man only carrying a calm look, this was a normal part of his job. The respect you held for him was always unimaginable but at that moment you felt something akin to pride as you peaked at him working, the grace he held as a doctor proved to you that everything that had happened between the two of you might have been worth it to him. This was truly his calling.

Soon enough you were dumping the stuff he requested down next to him; your nose turning up as he finished bandaging around his wound, the smell of antibiotic cream hitting your senses unpleasantly.

“You owe me a lot of answers,” Jeonghan was tense as his eyes skirted to you, watching you gnaw on your anxiously, “So get talking.”

“Jeonghan…” You said softly while tucking the hot water bottle under one of Chanyeol’s arms, trying to avoid it for as long as possible, “Please, can’t it wait till morning.”

“No.” Jeonghan snapped at you, a first for him in a while, “It can’t wait till morning.” He stood up as you placed the blankets over Chanyeol, waiting for you before he grabbed your arm and dragged you back into the bathroom; away from the sleeping man.

The bathroom still had streaks of blood over the counter, with the rag you used thrown in the sink to be out of sight – there was a vague metallic smell in the place as well that was being fought by your air freshener; it looked like a crime scene in here, and maybe there was some truth in that. Mentally you acknowledged that you were observing the room to avoid talking to Jeonghan, but you couldn’t help yourself, the door clicked softly behind you reminding you of that.

“I don’t ask for much,” Jeonghan started with a puff of his chest, looking around the bathroom at the butchery as well, “But I at least ask for the barest amount of honesty from you.” His eyes were drilling into you as you refused to meet them.

“Listen Jeonghan, he’s…” You were slightly at a loss of words on what to call the man on your couch; was he a friend? Was he a foe? He hadn’t done more than lie to you, you knew that much, “He needed help.” You affirmed instead, glancing at him briefly.

“I could see that,” Jeonghan said sarcastically, “But explain to me why he didn’t go to, you know, a hospital?” He did say it so simply, that if you didn’t know Chanyeol like that you would have asked the same thing. “He couldn’t,” You tried to reason with him, but he cut you off.

“He couldn’t? You couldn’t call or?” Jeonghan was aggravated, his complexion had a ting of red to coat it.

“He just couldn’t,” You snapped back, your lip wobbling slightly, “He’s not like you or me,” Your voice took a juxtaposition, as you spoke quietly.

Upon seeing you were getting upset, Jeonghan placed his hands on your shoulders, looking you dead in the eyes with a soft look – one of his hands coming up to touch your face slightly with concern.

“Hey, it’s okay…” He frowned, swiping a small tear away from your face, “What’s going on…”

Pouting your mouth softly, your mind ran through the last week and a half; from the shooting to the compound and everything that following that – your life had been tipped upside down in unimaginable ways and it was no secret that you were keeping a tight lid on how you felt about things. No one sprung to mind when it came to talking about the things that you had seen and witnessed, your jaw starting to tremble as you remembered the start of it all – watching someone that in some way you could call a friend lying next to you on the ground, the only sign that he was there were his pooling blood and dead eyes. It had a snowball effect on you more than you realised; from the constant threats against your life, the guns, the warehouse, the fact that these men had swept into your life and taken over aspects of it like nothing was wrong.

It’s not that you weren’t fond of the Chanyeol, or at times even that slimy guy that Baekhyun could be, but the issue was it that you weren’t supposed to be even remotely fond of any of them. The two of them having a hand in the way that you can’t sleep well at night anymore, or why you constantly had to check behind you in the small case that someone was following – you were adapting to the life they had placed you in, but you knew that at the heart of it all, this was just another day on the job for them.

Standing in front of Jeonghan now, felt like a twisted reminder of what life was supposed to be like – you were supposed to feel angry at the fact that a known criminal had welcomed himself into your house with his destruction without a thought of the person on the other end, you were supposed to question things. But as of lately, you’ve been accepting everything that was handed to you.

“Comply, comply, comply…” You remember Chanyeol saying to you, a distant enough memory now.

Had you found comfort in compliancy? Were you no better than the men that Sehun commanded around? An ashen taste filling your mouth at the fact you worked at one of his clubs now.

“Were you as bad as them?” You thought, they were criminals after all, and you knew this… Glancing back at Jeonghan you registered the worry on his face, his eyes flickering around your face like the ever-concerned human he was.

Your companion jumped slightly when you flung yourself at him, wrapping around him desperately; he was a semblance of normality and how you craved that at that moment, he wasted no time wrapping his arms around you too, listening as you quietly sniffled at him

“I have so much I need to tell you about…”

Midnight; tucked away down a side-ally and hidden to the naked eye, dubbed to some as the pinnacle of indulgence and dulce company, but to most, it was known for its exotic nightlife and less than saintly company or at least that’s what Yixing thought as his feline eyes fluttered around the establishment. Yixing knew the owners spared on cost on the place, the modern take on baroque lining every part of the room; gold accents replaced silver and delicate beige and cream licked the walls in their demure but tasteful way. He was no inexpensive man, none of his brothers were, but even Yixing knew that most of the time he carried himself with a certain grace that made getting through crowds a lot easier; a modern Moses if the biblical man carried a loaded gun and a silver tongue.

Yixing wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t of importance to himself or his brothers, with the gaudy smell of burning incense was enough reason to drive him home, but as he casually strolled through the place; he soon caught wind of the only reason he was there. Nestled at the grand bar, tucked away under the droplets of crystal that hung from above; Park Jeonghwa.

“Miss Park,” Yixing was ever the gentleman, approaching the bar with grace next to her, “Long time no see.” But the woman in question didn’t look to have the same energy for him.

While Yixing was a few years older than her, he’d known her (like Sehun), for as long as he could remember; and to the trained eye there would be nothing wrong with the young woman, but Yixing – he could see the fraying of her character with one glance. There was an edge to her eye’s that wasn’t here before their last meeting.

“Yixing.” Jeonghwa grumbled back too occupied playing with the olive of her martini to give any energy back, “What brings you here.” She sighed slightly, glancing at him.

Jeonghwa always was the picture of perfection; right down to the last atom. She held a grace that most women could only dream of having, while at the same time having a mouth that could talk her way out of anything – she was all bark and no bite, but her skills did lie elsewhere.

“Felt like gambling my life away,” Yixing’s mouth tilted softly in a rare smirk, “Where better to do it then as the ever so grand Midnight Casino and Bar.” A playful tone edging into his voice, but regardless at his small form of a joke; the every stony Jeonghwa did not crack.

“Yes, well enjoy,” She scoffed softly, reaching to down her drink in one as Yixing’s brow raised.

“You’re a hard woman to track, you know?” He spoke carefully, watching closely at her reactions, her tired eyes flicking to his at his statement.

“Tell your boss, I don’t want to be found.” Her eye’s hardened slightly as she forwent mentioning his name.

“So, Sehun’s the one that rattled your cage,” He noted softly, watching a small village ending fire dance in her eyes, “I should have guessed as much.”

“I hate him, Yixing.” She mumbled almost childishly, turning back away from him, “I hate everything about that man, he’s decayed right down to his pathetic little core.”

“No, you don’t,” Yixing tsk-ed softly, “If you felt that way, you wouldn’t have such impassioned words to say about him.” She merely huffed.

“Did he send you here,” She changed the subject quickly.

“No,” Yixing hummed, tapping his fingers on the bar softly, “I’m here on my own accord,” Her eyes flicked to him in a glare.

“Don’t lie to me.” She snapped slightly, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Junmyeon called, you didn’t pick up and so I’m here,” Yixing explained, trying to keep her temper at bay, but Jeonghwa only shook her head with an eye-roll.

“Whatever he wants, you can tell him that I don’t care,” She scoffed, flagging down the bartender for another drink, “I’m tired of everyone in that stupid place,” Yixing looked at the woman before sighing internally, letting the bartender tend to her before he tried talking anymore.

“I’m not aware of what happened between you and Sehun,” Yixing said honestly, “But whatever is it, I can clearly see it’s affecting you.”

“Ever the observant,” Jeonghwa mumbled back, “Yes, I am upset and rightly so.” Yixing raised his brow at her.

“I always keep his best interests at heart, even if it doesn’t seem like it,” She griped, a distant look in her eye, “All I asked in return is that he considered one thing and he couldn’t even grant me that, Yixing,” She looked at him with pain in her eyes.

“I feel used, and I have done for a while.” Jeonghwa spat as her mouth pursed; Yixing held for a second before he decided to speak.

“I think we’re all aware of yours and Sehun’s relationship,” Yixing cleared his throat softly, “And I think you’re more aware of the truth behind it than you left on…” His brow raised softly, watching the women tense up.

“You can’t tie him down, Jeonghwa,” Yixing stated softly, “No one can.”

“I can try,” Jeonghwa said softly in a rare sign of vulnerability.

“Forcing him into marrying you won’t make him love you, Jeonghwa” Yixing told her gently.

She looked like she was having an inner battle with herself before she grumbled again, tensing back up into her shell before Yixing could fully pry it open.

“He could learn.” She huffed again, looking at bitter as before. Yixing knew that Sehun probably could learn how to love someone, but that someone wasn’t her.

“Is that why you agreed to help him,” Yixing asked plainly, “To soften him up?” But when Yixing was met with silence, he raised his brow.

“Jeonghwa,” Yixing demanded slightly, but the woman refused to face him.

“I told him what I knew, that was it.” She snapped softly, choosing to stare at her glass.

Pursing his lips slightly, Yixing knew he had to tread carefully – opting to reach into his jacket pocket instead of answering straight away. His fingers brushed a soft cream envelope, pulling it out gently to hold in front of Jeonghwa – the latter’s eyes glancing curiously at it.

“What’s that?” She asked, confused at why he was holding it out to her – her perfectly manicured hand reaching out for it, but she jumped slightly with it was moved slightly out of reach, Yixing a lot closer than he was before.

“You know I will find out,” He said quietly while staring her down, “I’ll give you one shot to be truthful, Jeonghwa, it doesn’t have to be right now – but whatever you’re hiding, I will know.”

“You should save your interrogation skills for the real felons,” Her eyebrow raised slightly, “I’ve said it to your boss, and I’ll say it to you – I told you what I know, that’s it.”

“Jeonghwa,” Yixing’s voice was dangerous quietly, “This isn’t a game, you’re going to win – there’s no prize.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m playing any game,” Jeonghwa scoffed back, tilted her head ever so slightly to stare Yixing down.

Yixing merely hummed, his eyes flickering over her face for second before he presented the envelope to her again.

“Next Friday; 8:30pm, tell no one,” He explained quietly under his breath, “A party for members, assure you and your father turn up.” Jeonghwa stanched the paper out of his hands before he could retract it again.

“Haven’t been to one of these in a while,” She mused, “The occasion?”

“Something you’ll find out when you’re there,” Yixing kept a stony face, “You’re expected to be there, don’t let pettiness ruin that – we’re all on thin ice.”

“You could have delivered this to my father,” Jeonghwa noted with a raised brow.

“I could have,” Yixing admitted, “But I don’t think it would have the same effect.” He glanced at her with a look that she couldn’t read properly.

“Dress sharply Jeonghwa, Sehun will want to see you.”

There was an awful lurch in Chanyeol’s stomach as he started to come back to life, the acid gripping his oesophagus in a chokehold causing his throat to constrict was enough to stir him from his slumber, but barely. He had no recollection of where he was, the only feeling in his body aside the overwhelming want to vomit was the softness under his spine and a warm coating his body. It was concerning; not even the bed’s in the medical bay of the compound felt like welcoming. Chanyeol could feel the dryness coating his mouth and lips like someone had sucked any life that was left in him out, his lids like sandpaper across the skin; he hadn’t felt this rough in a while.

Chanyeol wanted to fully wake up, to sit up and wonder where the hell he was, but the best he could manage was the slow blinking of his eyes opening; the early morning hues of the day settling into a place that looked vaguely familiar to him.

“He was in an apartment,” He thought dully, his head giving a painful throb at the changing of lights – It was still winter in the city, so the streaking orange that covered the ceiling at least told the aching man that it was around 8am. He couldn’t place where he’d seen this place before, his blurry eyes racking around everywhere he could look to try and get a recollection, but it wasn’t coming to him instantly.

“I see you’re awake,” A voice sounded out to his left. If Chanyeol had the energy to be scared by him he was sure he would be, but he barely had the energy to turn his head the fraction it needs to see who it was.

Standing in the door of the kitchen was a blonde man, his body leaning against the door with a cup of what looked like coffee; he’d seen this man before in Y/N’s apartment, his mind suddenly clicking where he was. He hadn’t looked at the place much during his last visit.

“Any pain’s?” The man hummed as he walked into the living space, making his way to the armchair not far from Chanyeol. He barely had the energy to follow him with his eyes, but he managed, keeping an eye on his closely, he didn’t trust him.

Chanyeol couldn’t see he came into much contact with “normal people”, his job didn’t really require it; but looking at the blonde man who looked beyond tired irked him, something didn’t settle well with him. “Nothing to say?” The blonde raised an eyebrow while perched in his chair, “Shame, here was me thinking that you’d tell me more about yourself, Chanyeol…” There was a vague sense of amusement dancing in his eyes as Chanyeol’s widened slightly.

He remembered telling you not to tell the man in front of him his name; the words of the persons barely on his tongue as he tried to remember it.

“Don’t fret,” He smirked, “I’m no danger to you,” At that Chanyeol tried to sit up, but yelped slightly as he felt a slight pulling at the bottom of his stomach.

“Who are you,” Chanyeol finally managed to grit out, registering that he was bundled in blankets, but the man in question merely laughed.

“I was that forgettable, huh?” He laughed but it was with amusement, “If you must know, I’m Jeonghan, the man that helped stopped you from bleeding out.” That left a bad taste in Chanyeol’s mouth.

“What, do you want my thanks?” He lay back down with a grunt, his head starting to throb painfully.

“You’re up a lot earlier than I expected you to be,” Jeonghan ignored him, placing his coffee on a side table to stand up, he rather slender body making his way over to him.

But Chanyeol felt like biting the man when he grabbed his head, tilting it towards him to shine a light into his pupils; the sharpness of the white light burning his retina as it flicked in and out of them

“No concussion,” Jeonghan hummed furrowing his brow at the man, “Temperature seems fine.”

“Get away from me,” Chanyeol growled slightly, trying to push the man away but the aching in his body stopped him from moving, “What did you do to me?” He growled again.

“You were stabbed,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes, swatting the hand that attempted to move him, “I stitched you back up, are you following?” Jeonghan’s sarcasm had Chanyeol edging to hit him, more so than just being in his presence wanted that.

“You’ve got a sprained arm and swelling around the stomach as well,” He noted off, still looking down at him, “I suspect a cracked rib but only barely and some swelling around the jaw and neck – you did get yourself in quite the scuffle didn’t you?”

“Where’s Baekhyun?” Chanyeol opted to ignore him this time, gruntled softly as he rubbed a hand down his face, the exhaustion heavy in his body.

“Not here,” Jeonghan spoke to him plainly, “You came alone, and I’m hoping you could tell me how,” Chanyeol merely grumbled shutting his eyes so he didn’t have to look at him.

“What are you a cop or something,” He hissed softly trying to move again on the couch.

“A doctor,” Jeonghan corrected and frowned watching the man move, “A training one at least.”

“Will you stop that,” Jeonghan proceeded to snap at his patient, forcing his shoulder down back on the couch “Keep moving and you’re gonna tear your stitches, and I don’t feel as welcoming to stitch you back up this time.” He jeered at the man.

Opening his eyes back up to stare down the man, Chanyeol started taking a profile of him; he wasn’t a natural blonde, the small amount of brown peeking out of his skull telling him that, he was also a bit on the thinner side, Chanyeol having no doubt he could take the man even in his state. But there was a tiny bit of muscle to his form, probably from his line of work, the slight definition in his arms and shoulders told Chanyeol that he could probably throw a punch.

“It’s cute you’re trying to scare me,” Chanyeol said, “But it won’t work.” Jeonghan merely smiled at that.

“Scare you?” He repeated, “I have no reason to do that,” Chanyeol gave him a curious look.

“But I will tell you one thing,” His voice dropped as he crouched down to be closer to Chanyeol, “I may be a doctor, but I’m not a forgiving man.” Chanyeol frowned at that.

“She told me everything,” Jeonghan smirked slightly, “And you are very lucky she waited till after I fixed you up, because otherwise…” He said darkly

“I don’t think I would have bothered,” Chanyeol’s eyes hardened at that, but the doctor didn’t stop.

“You’re on thin ice with both me and her,” Jeonghan glowered at him, “Even a finger out of line and you’ll regret it, do I make myself clear?” Chanyeol scoffed at him.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” He spat out, but the man merely leered in response.

“I don’t think you have an idea of what I can do,” Jeonghan said simply standing back up as Chanyeol’s eyes trailed him.

The blonde merely took his seat back on the armchair, picking up a discarded book that was near his coffee while Chanyeol stared at him. Jeonghan played him no mind anymore, not even bothered to glance at him as he spoke.

“Get some more rest, Chanyeol – you’re going to need it.”

Going to bed was supposed to be the place you felt most comfortable, bathed in warm and welcoming – but for some reason, sleep had been evading you much like you had been evading the reason that was causing it. The process of coming to terms with things was never simple, you knew that; you had come to terms with many things in your short life, all them carrying their pain but how do you come to terms with things that were still going on? Can you move past the present? These were all thoughts that plagued your mind, more so after the night that you had.

After the fiasco in the bathroom, Jeonghan had gently coerced you into laying in your room; away from the problem on the couch and into something that you could find comfort in, or what you were supposed to find comfort in. With him being ever the gentleman as he made himself accustomed to your space and going out of his way to clean you up, he tried to make it as nice as an environment as possible so that when you did unleash the skeletons in your closet, you weren’t alone.

Jeonghan wasn’t a cruel guy, more often than not he was the loveliest person you’d meet; being a doctor bought out all the caring qualities in him, and while he never lost that sarcastic edge, he never used it in a way to hurt anyone – or more specifically, you. So, to see the way his face darkened as you told him everything that had happened had broken you slightly, he was someone you never wanted to see upset; and the way his body language changed was scary. You had spent what felt like hours explaining everything to him, his hesitance to the man on the couch outside the door growing with each word, to the point that you had to stop him several times from going out there. The two of you talked until you felt the exhaustion kissing your lids like a lover, your grasp on reality shrinking – you had assumed that Jeonghan would stay with you, but you couldn’t even fight him as he gave you a brief kiss on the forehead, telling you he’d watch over the guest while you slept, his mind too chaotic to do anything else.

It was hours later that you eventually found yourself in the most uncomfortable setting in your life; after starting your morning far earlier than you had hoped to, you hadn’t expected both Jeonghan and Chanyeol to be in the living room when you eventually decided to go out. The latter of which, still asleep on the couch – his face riddled with cuts and bruises.

“He’s got no phone on him,” Jeonghan whispered as he led you to the kitchen, “Checked his pockets, just a weapon and blood-stained keys.” You frowned softly.

“We’re gonna have to drive him back,” You whispered back, “I don’t have any way to contact them, but I have a rough idea of where they stay…”

“Are you crazy?” Jeonghan’s eyes were wide, “You want to go back there?”

“What choice do we have?” You quizzed back, “He can’t drive, and he can’t exactly get a cab back, can he?” You watched as Jeonghan’s chest expanded in stress.

“I’m not driving him back, no I refuse to go near that place,” Jeonghan’s eyes were hard, but you gave him a stressed look.

“Then give me your keys,” You held your hand out to him, “I’ll drive him.” His eye’s widening.

“You’re not going yourself,” He snapped softly, but you only made a frustrated noise at him.

“He can’t stay here, Jeonghan” You raised your voice an octave, “His boss is going to be looking for him.”

“Listen,” You tried to reason with him as a look crossed his face, “We take him back, we give him to Baekhyun or whoever and we leave – it’ll take 20 minutes tops, whatever he’s involved in has nothing to do with us.”

“I swear to god if he-,” Jeonghan started but was cut off when another voice cut into the conversation.

“He can hear you,” Chanyeol had managed to pull himself up and was now leaning against the door on the kitchen; grabbing his bare torso in pain, the blankets long forgotten, “The two of you need to work on whispering.”

“Chanyeol!” You yelped, as he winced, your voice too loud for his head, “You’re alive, thank god” You tried to smile but his eyes settled on you, it became strained.

“No thanks to you,” He hummed, limping further into the kitchen to sit at the table, his face pulling taught as he eased himself into a sitting position.

Jeonghan was glowering next you as the two of you looked at the man, he looked worse for wear, but he at least looked better than he did last night.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Jeonghan told him, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, the two men staring each other down.

“I’ll survive, doc,” Chanyeol told him sarcastically, but his face softened up when you placed a glass of water in front of him – you hand warm, as it placed on the skin of his shoulder.

“Chanyeol, what happened?” Your face was pinched with worry, but he merely sighed – moving away from your warmth and taking a sip of his water.

“Nothing to worry yourself about,” He grumbled, shaking his head but you weren’t having that.

“You came to my home bleeding and disorientated, I think you owe me some explanation.” Your voice was hard, and the surprise at this registered on his face.

“Mission went wrong,” He said simply, “That’s all you need to know and that’s all I can tell you.” You vaguely heard Jeonghan scoff from behind you.

“Chanyeol.” You warned, giving him a hard look.

“I don’t fancy getting shot,” Chanyeol snapped, staring you dead in the eye, “There are some things that you don’t need to know, even if you’re pushy about it.” You flinched slightly at that but took a step back with a look.

“Whatever,” You shook your head at him, jaw set, “We’re taking you home.” His brow furrowed.

“I’ll make my own way home, thanks.” He stated, not bothering to look at you.

This time Jeonghan cut into the conversation, and he didn’t look happy.

“Listen, take the help,” His voice was hard, “You’re in no fit condition to drive and wherever you and your “brothers” reside isn’t walking distance, so suck it up.” You flinched slightly at him.

“Jeonghan,” You warned but Chanyeol cut in.

“Get your boytoy on a leash,” Chanyeol retorted, sitting a bit straighter “I never asked for his help.”

“The two of you please,” You begged slightly, looking between the two of them before directing yourself at Chanyeol.

“You’re getting a shirt on and you’re getting in that car, Chanyeol.” You snapped softly giving him a tense look, “I don’t care if you don’t want the help, you’re stranded here otherwise.” His jaw was set into a hard line.

“I said…” Chanyeol tried to reason with you but you weren’t having it.

“I don’t give a shit what you said.” You raised your voice, he had a vague amount of surprise in his eyes, “You’ll do it and that’s final.”

Glaring at him one last time, you moved to get out of the kitchen, the stress and hurt radiating off you in waves at the situation but you tried to suck it up, tossing over your shoulder as you got out the room.

“Get ready to leave.”

If you had to talk to someone about the world’s most horrific road trip, you imagined the look on someone’s face as you talked about the time you were stuck in a car with a trainee doctor and a wanted gang member; the spectacle on their face as their heard about how awkward the silence was and how badly you wished to throw yourself out the car door.

As much as you wanted someone to listen to you complain, you were far too busy living the awkward road trip, the three of you a sight for sore eyes as you sped down the highway. Chanyeol had been relegated to the back of Jeonghan’s car out of fear for the man’s safety and for the fact he could keep laying down on the seats – but it was a bit funny it to watch his long-form struggle to fit.

The trip to the compound was brief, Jeonghan basically speeding there and yourself too busy looking out the window to fully pay attention to what was going on; no one bothered to speak other than the brief directions you’d give every so often and the occasional grunt from Chanyeol as the car hurdled over a speed bump. It wasn’t peaceful in the slightest, you wanted nothing more to be at home since you were working tonight but you still found yourself there, a thread filling your stomach as the city melded from buildings to vast expanses of trees, you could practically taste the fear the closer you got.

Even though you had offered to drive, you don’t think you could have had the nerve to pull up to the massive house like Jeonghan did – speeding through the gates and into the courtyard that you hadn’t seen properly since that night.

You weren’t sure what reaction you expected pulling up through the open gates, but the three seconds it took for gunmen to fill the space had Jeonghan stopping the car with a screech; Chanyeol yelping as he was flung forward from where he was laying down. Vaguely you could see some familiar faces among the barrels of guns pointed towards you but a loud voice cutting through had the two of your tumbling out the car like you were on fire, someone appearing on your side of the car to tap on the window.

“Get out, hands where we can see them.” A face you didn’t recognise demanded, not seeing Chanyeol in the back, but you meekly nodded.

Glancing at Jeonghan the two of you nodded at each other before stepping out the car, a chill running through you as numerous guns clocked in case you tried to pull something.

“What’s your business here,” The man in front of you stated, his eyes hard as he looked you up and down; Jeonghan on the other side no doubt getting the same treatment.

“Well…” You stuttered, surprised no one recognised you but that didn’t last long, the car door beside the two-tumbling open as your third passenger tumbled to his feet with a grunt, surprising everyone in the area.

“Put the damn guns down, idiot,” Chanyeol swore at them as he stood to his full height, pushing the man in front of you out the way as you stared at him in shock.

“Chanyeol,” It was the man’s turn to stutter, jumping to help him as he limped away from the car to pass a glance at you, “We thought-,”

“Well you thought wrong,” He didn’t give him a chance to explain before he interrupted, looking around at the underlings holding guns up to the car before he focused on someone standing behind at the foot of the house, not that you bothered to turn around, “Do you mind calling them off, Jongin?” A chuckle met your ears faintly from the man in question.

“Only the warmest of welcomes for you, Yeol…” Jongin spoke, as Chanyeol began to limp around the car and away from you, their voices fading out; and your body deflating slightly, he was partly being carried by the man that tapped on your window, not that you bothered.

Glancing around to fully look, you noted how one of the men still stood next to Jeonghan – a hard look passing over his face as he stared at him but you merely caught Jeonghan’s slightly annoyed eyes with a soft smile, making your way over much to the digression of the man with him. The two of you shared a look before something settled on Jeonghan’s face, a hand touching your shoulder a few seconds had you looking around; a familiar face filling your vision.

“Y/N, was it?” The man you registered as Minseok touched your shoulder with a slight smile as you meekly nodded in response, “Fantastic, do the two of you want to come with me?” You were about to answer when Jeonghan cut in.

“We have somewhere to be,” Jeonghan stated, giving Minseok a look which didn’t sit well with him, “We’re just ready to leave.”

“As nice as that is,” Minseok smiled tightly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, my boss would like to see the two of you.”

“That won’t be needed-,” Jeonghan tried to talk about you cut him off with a look, knowing the last thing to do was offended someone that could have you shot before you could blink.

“Ignore him,” You smiled apprehensively, “Lead the way,” You gestured for him to walk in front of you.

The two of you probably looked vaguely like show ponies as you were led in front of the large group and into the house; everyone’s eyes staring at you like you could revolt at any moment and decide to attack – a far cry from what it was like last time you were here. The compound was still the same as before, the winter morning giving it a glint that almost made the place look friendly but as you were led up the stairs to the familiar foyer; your heart dropped out of your ass as the prospect of where you were going. The two of you were only one step into the place before you heard a voice off the side make a side comment.

“We’ll you look terrible,” A sarcastic voice that held no bite sounded off, your eyes flicking to a familiar face.

Baekhyun.

“You’re one to talk,” You said softly, wincing slightly as you took him in – he was much in the same condition as Chanyeol if only a fraction better; his face cut and bruised, but he still looked good, “You look like you’ve seen better days.” He laughed at that, wincing softly as he walked closer.

“I suppose I owe you thanks,” He said honestly much to your surprise; his eyes flicking from you to Jeonghan who was posed slightly behind you, “The two of you.” “What for…” You frowned; a bit confused.

“Well, he’s not going to say it is he,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, “Whatever you did for Chanyeol, thank you – honestly.” He looked you in the eyes; a rare moment from the man that he looked someway normal.

“It’s okay…” You said softly, “Jeonghan did most of the work.” You nodded with a small smile.

“Regardless,” Baekhyun waved his hand, shooing the thought off, “I owe you my thanks, I’m not mentally prepared for a new partner just yet” He winked at you as Minseok scoffed.

“You’re keeping the boss waiting, Baekhyun.” He rolled his eyes, but there was no bite in the words.

“Merely giving my thanks, Min,” Baekhyun smirked, before he gestured to the stairs, “Be on your way.”

Baekhyun blended back into his place as Minseok continued to lead you both up the stairs in silence; only the sound of yours and Jeonghan’s breathing was heard as the stairs became less and less before your eyes. Jeonghan was staring at you intently, his eyes asking if you were okay but you merely shook your head; the last time you had seen the man in the office, the two of you shared a normal moment in his car as he drove you home, but now it seemed like that was a distant memory that wasn’t to be thought of again.

The double cream doors opened on-demand as the three of you neared, opening to show you the horror inside, sat at his desk casually with a raised eyebrow was the man of the hour: Sehun.

“If I knew you’d be back so soon I’d have thrown together a better welcome party,” Sehun wasted no time in making a sardonic remark, “But I see you brought a friend this time,” He noted as the two of you were led to stand in front of his desk so he could get a better look at you.

Every time you saw the man you were constantly annoyed at how put together he looked in every situation – this time his long hair was loosely slicked back from his face to reveal the smooth skin of his unmarred face, his all-black suit doing the most of giving off the appearance that he was, in fact, the powerful man he believed himself to be.

“Nothing to say?” His mouth jilted slightly, he was in a surprisingly good mood for someone who had a man MIA for nearly a day, “That’s a first.” You merely just turned your head away from him.

“Sehun,” You said quietly in a greeting - nodding at him, “Lovely to see you again,” He hummed at that, casting his eyes from you to Jeonghan as you winced, you could imagine his face.

“Problem?” Sehun’s voice lost its amusing edge at he spoke to the man, “Or would you like to introduce yourself?” When Jeonghan was silent at that, you elbowed him.

“Jeonghan.” The man in question said briefly, not paying him the reaction Sehun wanted from him.

“Jeonghan,” Sehun mused to himself, leaning back in his chair casually – one leg lifted gracefully over the over, “I suppose I owe the two of you thanks,” He hummed softly.

“I’m not sure what trouble Chanyeol found himself in, but I give my thanks that you at least returned him somewhat intact,” He continued with a fraction of amusement, “I’m not typically a man to repay kindness with anything other than that, but seeing the job you’ve done on him I suppose I can give you something.”

You imagined Sehun was a great actor when he wanted to be but now wasn’t the time, he was acting uncharacteristically childish – a far cry from the man you’d seen before.

“A favour,” Sehun said plainly, “For saving one of my men, I’ll grant the two of you a favour.”

“A favour.” Jeonghan reiterated plainly, “You’ll owe us a favour?”

“Issue?” Sehun’s eyes glinted slightly, the deep pools flicking to the only person that had a problem with him.

“Yes, there’s an issue,” Jeonghan snapped.

“Jeonghan,” You sounded shocked at the voice that came from him, realising the danger he could put himself in but you watched in bigger horror as a dark look fluttered over Sehun’s face, taking that mask he had on with it. There’s were a few tense seconds of silence before Sehun stood up from his desk.

Sehun squared his shoulder as he rounded his desk, the tick in his jaw twitching with his displeasure; a dark looking coloured his igneous eyes, a dark look directed at the two of you. There was a thick silence in the room as Sehun walked up to the two of you, dismissing you in the conversation completely to talk to Jeonghan, the latter of which being equally as ticked off as the perilous man he was confined in a room with.

“You should keep in mind who you’re speaking to.” Sehun tutted sarcastically, his eyes filtering down to his opponent; whom of which was a decent amount shorter than him not that the latter cared, “Better yet, you should keep in mind where you are.” You practically sweat dropped next to the two of them.

“And if I don’t?” Jeonghan challenged back, the testosterone practically suffocating in the room; but Sehun merely smirked, looking him up and down.

“I don’t think you want to be in a position to find out what happens,” Sehun hummed as you caught sight of one of the smaller members of the gang from your peripheral touching the gun on his waist, “Not many have lived to tell the experience.”

Putting your hand between them, you eyed Jeonghan as you gave Sehun a small shove away; a very bold move on your part, but it didn’t stop their staredown.

“Stop it.” You hissed slightly at Jeonghan, eye’s hardening before you turned to the head man himself, “Stop it, we’ll take the favour.”

“Y/N” Jeonghan hissed, placing a hand on your arm to draw you back, but you merely pulled out of it; still facing Sehun, who only wore a smirk on his face.

“Enough,” You snapped softly as Sehun cut in.

“You heard the lady,” Sehun gestured to you, a darker amusement dancing in his eyes, “A favour for your good deeds.”

“A favour, I saved your-,” Jeonghan began before you snapped at him.

“Jeonghan, enough.” You tensed your jaw at him.

“Don’t be mistaken, kid” Sehun hummed, retreating to lean against the front of his desk, away from the brewing storm, “A favour is no easy way out, dare I say – even hard to come across”

“What do you mean,” Jeonghan frowned, the sound of a quiet sigh from Junmyeon the corner telling you that this probably wasn’t going to end well.

“You saved one of my men,” Sehun shrugged, “I owe you something, both of you” He glanced at the two of you.

“Such as…” Jeonghan glowered, not seeing the value in what he was offering; this time it was your turn to quietly sigh before you decided to answer.

“Probably whatever we want…” You grimaced slightly, the idea of asking them for anything tasting like ashes in your mouth.

“Within reason,” Sehun corrected with a chuckle, his arms very much crossed over his chest in a casual stance, as much as he enjoyed riling up Jeonghan; even knew that he was no threat.

“If I may,” Junmyeon piped up from his stance at the back of the room, “Sehun is right, a favour from us is nothing to be taken lightly…”

“It’s a tradition amongst us,” Junmyeon, ever the peacemaker continued, “One we normally reserve for our families but one we can pass on in moments of great exception.” Sehun rolled his eyes softly, your eyes catching his for a brief few seconds while Jeonghan locked with Junmyeon. “It’s a way of saying that we at Exodus are grateful for your efforts,” Sehun pipped in, looking slightly annoyed, “And in turn, we are indebted to you, the two of you.”

“You can bring it in yourself to be indebted to someone,” Jeonghan snapped slightly.

“Don’t push it,” Sehun snapped back, “I can easily decide to revoke it if you keep this up,”

“I’m not one of your men,” Jeonghan glared as you practically melted from stress beside them.

“If you were you would know to watch your tongue,” Sehun sneered in such a way, filled with such hate and authority, that you felt a chill run down your spine; even Jeonghan stopping to be quiet for a second, “Do not take my kindness for weakness, kid – If I wanted I could shoot you where you stand and no one would come looking.”

“Sehun,” Junmyeon warned, but he was ignored.

“You’re testing my composure,” Sehun spoke plainly as his eyes hardened, “And you are in no position to do so, so a word of advice? Bite your tongue before I decide that you don’t need it anymore.” Sehun’s words resonated a silence in the room that felt like winter had gotten through the front door.

Jeonghan was left a deadly look on his normally calm face, staring down the man who didn’t bother to look at him anymore; Sehun’s eyes set firmly on your form as he decided to speak again.

“Thank you,” He spoke honestly, “I’m aware you were in no position to help but myself and my men are glad you did” You merely just nodded at him, registering your thanks before you meekly smiled.

Glancing at the two of you again Sehun waved his hand, “Take your leave.”

His name died on your tongue slightly as you went to say something else, but you knew this wasn’t the time or place to ask anything – not with the ticking time bomb next to you. The two of you merely nodded as you turned around, Jeonghan wasting no effort to get out the room in a fuming mess, your own body trailing before him a few paces, Junmyeon at the door giving you a look as he spoke quietly.

“You have our thanks…”

This time he wasn’t cooped up in the compound, he was in the only place that he could feel at home – hundreds of floors above the world and nestled in the apartment than no one knew he owned. But regardless of this being home, Sehun found himself staring out the window of the apartment with an ache in his chest that didn’t feel like it belonged there – a dull throb in his chest as he looked out at the glinting lights, a reminder of all the things he owned in life.

He wasn’t a sentimental man, he nothing to be sentimental over; his life didn’t call for that, but as he sat on his floor staring out the window, he found himself reminded of his own loneliness. Sehun had so many secrets in life and no one to share that burden with, even now as he uncharacteristically sat on his floor; he longed for someone to share the moments of weakness he did feel with. It had been a messy week for him, from a botched mission that resulted in one of his best men being put out of commission to another break-in at his weapons depo; Sehun had a thoroughly terrible week. His life was still on the line wherever he seemed to go, mumblings of the new gang getting louder with each passing day to the point he knew his men would start questioning him soon; he was looking weak in their eyes, fragments of his business caving in on him and he was doing nothing to stop it – not like he could do much at the moment.

Sehun and his family were terrible people, everyone knew this, it was part of the job of being in the Oh family; to be a terrible person. And while he knew that some people would be rejoicing at the fact Exodus was taking an ego hit, Sehun could only feel the burdens of his failure and confusion.

“Father had it easy huh,” He spoke softly to himself, eyes glancing over to the small pooch that decided to join him, Vivi’s fur glowing in the nightlife as he nestled himself into Sehun’s outreached hand, “Where am I going wrong…”

Vivi only gave a small dog cry at his owner's apparent sadness, nuzzling into him to make it all go away but as cute as Sehun found the act; he was sobered by the fact that he could get no answers from the small dog.

“Junmyeon thinks I’m being reckless,” He spoke to Vivi, “Throwing a party while there’s a target on my life, but he’s missing the point.” He sighed softly.

“I can’t bring them out of their hole, so I have to bring them to me…” Sehun said quietly, “Even if it kills me, I can’t let what’s been built crumble to the ground, even if I don’t want it anymore.”

“I think that’s why I’ve connected with her,” Sehun screwed his face up, “That girl that Baekhyun as roped in.” Vivi tilted his head at that.

“I’ve always gone to people for escapes,” Sehun sighed, “Not to get help but to ignore the world for a while,” He wasn’t speaking to anyone at this point.

“First it was Jeonghwa, she’s been there for so long that she’s lost sight of what I was doing,” Sehun noted, “Now I’m being present with this new person, someone that hates me to my very core and I can’t help but feel like I want to chase her down.” Vivi let out a noise like he was trying to talk back.

“Goodnight Sehun…”

Sehun still felt his skin prickle at the thought of his name dropping from her lips days even after it happened; it had been a while since someone had so softly said his name – no ill intent or lust coating the words, just pure unaltered thanks coating the words like some sickly-sweet honey. He’d never admit he thought about her in a way that brought warmth to his chest, that he found the fondness she carried in her eyes tempting to him.

“It’s not about feelings,” Sehun tutted snapping himself out of it, “I don’t want that from her, I want an escape – someone who can remind me that my life isn’t all this.”

“I’m a selfish man,” Sehun frowned but it wasn’t a dig at himself, in his eyes; if he accepted it then it wasn’t a flaw.

“Should I feel this amused at the idea of using something up until there’s nothing left?” He asked nobody, “Should I find a pastime in turning people into nothing?”

“I am a horrible man,” Sehun sighed as he let silence envelope himself again.

His apartment was still, the only occupants were sat on the floor wondering why life had led them here, but Sehun could still find it in himself at least find amusement in his situation – life be dammed or not.

“Maybe I’ll do something I’ll regret, but maybe it might mean something more…”

No one was home when the envelope was slid carefully under her door, the off cream paper skidding across the wooden floor like butter and not even she had expected to see something so formal sitting at her feet when she returned home from work that night; a frown lacing onto her face as she plucked the thing from the ground like a flower.

With intricate handwriting and a wax seal, she found herself curious at who would leave her something to beautiful to read but as she opened what she thought was going to be a letter; her face paled slightly at the card instead.

“You are warmly invited to a night of festivities, courtesy of Exodus…”

#sehun fanfic #sehun imagine #sehun scenario #sehun smut #exo imagines #sehun au #sehun x reader #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #sehun mafia au #exo fic #sehun angst #exo au

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whenimaunicorn · 4 years

Text

The Heart of Admiration - Part 6

In which we learn how Hope and Vane spent that fateful night in that tiny room.

Prompt: 16. “everybody sees how you look at him.” Content: pining, angst, more pining, a healthy dose of denial, and certain individuals having way too much fun with the fake marriage ruse. Catch up here.

Notes: the first section had been previously posted as a preview, if it feels familiar. Keep reading, for everything that follows is new. Also, shout-out to my partner in crime for this fic, @navigatrixnarrations, the real inspiration for Hope Wickham. Words: 3767

Hope dreams she’s teetering on a great precipice, unable to pull herself back nor to find the courage to see what lies in the darkness below her feet. She wakes up to the realization that she is actually just about to fall out of bed.

She pulls herself back on the mattress, able to do no more than achieve a slightly more stable balance before hitting a solid wall behind her. A warm, toned, breathing sort of wall. Her sleeping captain had encroached upon her territory in the dead of night, and now her shoulder is jammed into his chest and he’s softly snoring into her ear.

“Move it, you lunk,” she hisses, nudging him firmly with her shoulder.

It accomplishes nothing. There’s not even a hitch in his breathing.

“You’re on—my—side,” she growls, shoving against him harder with each word, bracing her feet against the mattress and throwing her back into him.

The snoring stops with a bit of a sigh, then resumes without any further acknowledgment of her disturbance.

Hope twists her body around with a few jerky movements, and stares down the bridge of his nose. His head is sharing her pillow. Unacceptable. “Captain.” She grasps his shoulder and shakes it, tentatively at first and then more briskly. “I need more room.”

He makes some sounds, half-words not recognizable in any language that Hope is familiar with. They sound both curious and exasperated. A few more brisk shakes get Vane to shift onto his back, but he remains soundly asleep.

At least she’s not nestled between his pectorals anymore. But his immovable shoulder is still preventing her from getting comfortable without touching his body. The amount of space left in the bed would be no problem if she were inclined to embrace the man, to wrap the line of her body along the whole side of his. The thought makes her flush, both with unexpected craving and with the embarrassment that would suffuse her if her captain woke up to find his navigator spooning him.

The craving, and her exhausted need to just get a little more comfortable, win out. She lets her top leg relax until her shin falls against his; better, but not enough. She rolls forward on her hip into her favorite sleeping position, daring to stack her knee on top of his thigh. Instantly, her tight muscles relax. The move presses her belly comfortably against his waist. The warmth of him is lovely, as are the gentle waves of his breathing. A part of her cannot believe she is pressing her body against Captain Vane’s in this way, while the rest of her is just too tired to care about propriety.

Her arm would be most comfortable draped across his chest. But did Hope dare to go that far? In the square of dim moonlight cast by the small window, she finds herself inspecting her captain’s sleeping face.

She’d stopped pretending she didn’t find him handsome. Her eyes follow the strong lines of his cheekbones down to his powerful jaw. When she’d first joined his crew, she’d been nervous about his intentions toward her, but the possibility that he found her attractive had never materialized into anything troubling to her. Despite the fact that Vane was now an inert mass in the center of her bed, he had never pushed her so far as to make her truly uncomfortable. In fact, his lack of direct advances have made her wonder if she’s imagining the whole thing. It is still distinctly possible that he thinks of her simply as a trusted member of his crew, valued only for her skill.

His jawline is vexing her. The fine stubble on it, grown out through the course of the day, is practically beckoning her fingertips. It would not be at all appropriate for her to stroke him in the dark, whilst he sleeps, and yet what other chance does she have to explore the way Captain Vane makes her feel without him catching her at it?

Shoving him did not wake him up. Perhaps tickling would do the trick. She tells herself she is only reaching fingers up to his cheek in order to annoy him into waking, and that only for the purpose of rolling him over to a more reasonable share of the mattress.

There's nothing surprising about the texture of Vane’s cheek, not technically. It’s just skin and little bristles of hair. And yet something about it feels absolutely unique, infinitely fascinating to her fingertips. She feels she could enjoy doing this for hours, or conversely that this one moment of tactile pleasure is stretching out wider and more significant than any moment has any right to. How can something feel soft and rough at the same time?

Vane's breathing hitches, his great brows creasing as he seems to become aware of her touch. Hope's fingers retract as if burnt. She really shouldn't have been doing that. She no longer wants him to wake up.

With a rumbling little groan, Vane reaches his arm over and embraces her, gathering Hope against his chest and rolling into her until she is trapped with both arms curled up between their bodies.

There is nothing to do but admit defeat, and let sleep take her, cozy and warm in the arms of her captain.

~*~

He hadn’t known exactly why he said it. She’s mine. How Hope must have shuddered, listening to that. He knew she could handle herself. It just sort of came out of his mouth when he saw the way that fisherman was leering at her. But now here she is, curled up against his chest in the thin light of early morning.

He’s grateful that he woke up so gently. Oftentimes unpleasant dreams haunt him in the early hours before dawn, and he does not always awake without a fight. This time, fleeting dreams melt into awareness of a warm weight at his side, and now Vane thinks he will just never move again. Her hand is on his chest. His heart beats strong and wild just beneath her palm. He stares at the ceiling, breathing carefully, only shallowly, and hopes this moment might stretch out forever.

His arm is around her. When did that happen? She fits so perfectly right there, tucked into his shoulder. If ever he had doubts about the depths of his feelings for the woman sleeping beside him, they were surely dispelled now. This is more than just desire, more than just skin craving skin. Her trusting little body anchors him, makes him feel as if heavens and earth are all turning as they should, with this bed at their absolute center. As if everything that exists had navigated his life right to this still point right here.

When she wakes, it will be over. If only they really were husband and wife, if the story they had spun in the tavern downstairs had magically come true overnight. But Vane would not risk losing her from his ship, not just to tell her how he feels. Better to see her every day, to hear her voice carry across the deck over the ocean winds, to take the smiles and tongue-lashings she throws in equal measure, and keep his heart concealed. At this point, not even his crew would forgive him if he drove her away.

She stirs. Oh, the cruelty of that soft sound that she makes as she wakes. Vane keeps himself still and unthreatening as he feels her body tense, as she lifts her head with a start and pulls her hand away from his heart.

Her hair is mussed and lovely, a lock of it falling across her face as she blinks at him in the warming light. She looks neither angry nor confused, so his worst fears recede. She looks . . . he can’t quite put his finger on it. Distressed?

“I—” a nervous smile darts across Hope’s face. “I’m sorry.” She laughs, and pulls her body away. That’s all she does, when she awakens to find herself entangled with his limbs at the center of a benevolent universe. She laughs.

She averts her eyes. She won’t look at his face as she scrambles to sit all the way up. Carefully not letting any part of her body touch him again. What more evidence does he need that he’s right to keep his heart locked away? “Mornin’,” he growls, polite as he can. Then swivels away from her to set his feet firmly on the floor.

~*~

Somehow Hope had been sure that she’d awaken before her captain, that she would be able to pull away and hide the secret embrace she’d bestowed on him during the night. Instead, she’d found herself rousing to the face of a very much aware and awake Charles Vane. And he had just been letting her sleep on, curled up against him like that, with her palm splayed across his bare chest…

Heat rises again in her cheeks, and she keeps her back to him as they both straighten hair and clothing and prepare to look presentable enough to walk downstairs. She hopes she hadn’t made him too uncomfortable. Poor thing was probably so shocked to wake up and find her like that that he was afraid to move. Probably thought she’d yell, accuse him of impropriety, trying to sneak something while she was asleep. But Hope knows she’s the one at fault here. She was the one who had indulged secret desires, and the only one that should be feeling any shame today.

The right thing to do would be to say something. Clear the air. But what on earth is the proper etiquette for I’m sorry that I took advantage of the warmth of your body last night? I apologize for testing the waters and liking it just a bit too much.

“You must think me silly,” she says to him. She’s not really certain where she’s going with that, but it’s a start.

Charles looks up at her abruptly, shirt in hand.

He’s listening. She has to say something more. “I promise that I’m not—” she cuts herself off. It’s imperative to reassure him that he doesn’t have to worry about her attraction to him, but equally important that she not even give him the idea that’s what this is about, if such thoughts had not already occurred to him. “I want to reassure you that my feelings aren’t—"

This time she’s cut off by a loud, thumping knock at the door. Both their heads swivel at the sound. “I hear congratulations are in order,” Jack Rackham’s cheery voice calls, emanating through the wood. “I was told the ‘newlyweds’ would be found in this room.”

Hope checks that her blouse is in order, then jumps to open the door. Their quartermaster’s face looms down at her, one amused eyebrow raised expectantly. “We didn’t get married, Jack. It’s all a misunderstanding.” She steps back into the corner, trying to create enough space to allow him entry into the tiny room.

Why is Vane looking at her like that?

Jack’s eyes float to find the captain as well.

Vane is gruff. “Told the mark she was my wife.” He pulls his hair out of the collar of the shirt he just finished shrugging on. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“So we’ve made contact, then.” Pleased, Jack sweeps fully into the room.

Hope closes the door behind him, mindful that Fellows might come walking up at any moment to begin their rendezvous. “More than contact,” she confirms, intent on filling Jack in quickly before another knock comes at the door. “He’s agreed to lead us right to it.”

Jack seems distracted. “A fine bit of news.” His eyes linger on the single bed, the two pairs of boots still standing side-by-side at its foot.

Something about the way he makes eye contact with Vane, directly after looking up from the rumpled bed, irks her. Hope stalks into his line of sight and crosses her arms. “Nothing untoward happened, Jack.”

Why do his eyes keep flitting back to Vane? Jack has nothing but a nod for her statement. Why on earth would the captain’s feelings be the ones anyone would be worried about right now?

“I promise you,” she says stubbornly, “he was a perfect gentleman.”

“That's not what you called me last night,” Vane rumbles behind her.

She whirls on him. “Don’t make this worse,” she barks at the cheekiness she detects in his halfhearted smile. “The last thing you want today is an angry wife.”

“So we’re keeping up this little ruse, then?” Jack inquires. Judging by the impressive angle of his eyebrow, he's realized Vane’s feelings aren't the only ones that might require caution in this moment.

Vane’s big hand cups Hope’s elbow, guiding her in the direction of their boots. “No way around it. Our contact took a fancy to her.” He holds her eyes for a moment, measuring his next words. “Which she leveraged. Seems I've got a coquettish little wife on my hands. Fellows finds out we ain't really married, now, and the only way to keep ‘im would be to send her to his bed instead of mine.”

Jack looks, frankly, flabbergasted at every word of this report. He turns wide eyes to Hope, for confirmation of such an extremely uncharacteristic story. “What—” he stops, screwing up his face in confusion, then tries again. “How much did you have to drink last night?”

Hope scowls at him. “It was a calculated play. Got us the deal, didn't I?”

“So long as the man can get out of bed today,” Vane adds, helpfully. “We did attempt to drink him under the table by the end, there.”

Hope's memories flash to that portion of the evening, to the fire ignited in her blood by the casual grip of the hands Vane kept resting on various areas of her body, the alluring spark nestled in the laughter behind her captain’s eyes. She can admit that the tittering, maddening, absolute uncertainty of these new feelings, she still tells herself they are new, led her to drink much more than was her usual habit.

“Perhaps we had best go knock on his door,” she says, forcing her mind back to the real business at hand, “before he gets away.”

~*~

She’s not sure how on earth she hadn’t thought to expect it. Hope considers herself an intelligent woman, extremely capable of thinking a plan through, anticipating the obstacles, the contingencies, and every flavor of unexpected consequences that might come from a particular course of action. It’s what makes her a damned good pirate, after all.

And still, it hits her like a blow to the stomach, knocking all other thoughts from her head for one long, unreasonable moment.

“You’re back,” the boatswain calls, waving as she and Vane accompany Fellows up the gangplank to board the Ranger. “Welcome aboard, Captain. Welcome aboard, Mrs. Vane.”

She almost stumbles. Which is especially embarrassing because the captain had his hand on her arm, and absolutely must have felt her composure crumble at those particular words.

“And who is this that you’ve brought with you, Mrs. Vane?” Oh, Shane is having fun with this. Hope can hear the subtle emphasis he has put on the honorific this time. They sent Jack up to the ship ahead of them, to let everyone in on the need for a little subterfuge while Mr. Fellows leads them to the treasure. It seems clear now that the crew has decided to have fun with it.

She’s not going to live this one down.

“This is Mr. Fellows,” she introduces. “Please, meet Shane Rollins, our boatswain.” Hope would like to remove her hand from Captain Vane’s arm, now that they’ve attracted the attention of the crew, but his fingers have covered hers and she can’t quite bring herself to recoil. She expects to find him laughing at her when she looks up at her “husband,” but his squinted eyes are very carefully not looking at her. Perhaps there is a slight tilt to the chiseled line of his mouth. Bother. He probably finds this extra funny given the way he found her wrapped around his body this morning.

Quite a few more members of the crew are on deck than usual, watching them board. She could chalk it up to excitement over the treasure her guest was about to guide them towards, but the smiles are just a bit too sly for that, aren’t they.

And it only gets worse as they get underway. Their guide turns out to be a gregarious, amiable fellow even when hungover. He, of course, stays close by the navigator’s side, attending to his “important business” of advising their course while chatting up the various crewmen who continue to insert themselves into the conversation. And it seems that as long as Fellows is glued to her side, Captain Vane will be too. Which, while perhaps intimidating to Fellows, (perhaps), does absolutely nothing to dissuade the crewmen from attempting to fluster Hope as best they can.

“Such a handsome couple you two make.”

“I confess I did tear up just a bit at your ceremony.”

“Oh, I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“That’s because it was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“No, yer daft, it were a week ago.”

“Ain’t they been married for months now?”

“Nah, it only feels that way, on account o’ how long they was makin’ eyes at each other before that.”

For her part, Hope mostly just stares resolutely out to sea. Despite Vane’s uncharacteristic nearness, he himself does nothing to feed into the madness either.

“I just love seeing the two o’ you so happy together. Oh, put your arm around her. Give her a kiss.”

That last one is met with the flattest stare Hope can summon. There is no way that even an actual Captain’s wife would ever put on a performance like that. “Reckon we’re close?” she asks Fellows instead.

“Oh, might be a couple more hours. Plenty of time to keep trading stories.”

~*~

Eventually she reaches her limit, right about the time Jack starts spinning his own version of their false narrative, opening with “We had never thought our Captain here would be the marrying type…” Hastily, Hope excuses herself to go put on a fresh set of clothes, before her growing frustration blows the whole charade.

But when she gets to her bunk, she finds it stripped, her few meager belongings nowhere to be seen. Did they—?

Hope fumes. There’s only one logical explanation for this, isn’t there. The crew’s been quite thorough in their commitment to establishing the ruse. She stalks back out of the lower decks.

She finds her clothes in the Captain’s quarters. Of course. Her skin prickles as she disrobes in here, even though the room is empty. To be undressed inside Vane’s private space . . . to her horror, Hope realizes the main emotion it’s filling her with is a sense of longing.

This is so inappropriate. She dresses herself as quickly as she can, then gets hung up on deciding where to set her soiled clothes. She can’t have Vane returning to his cabin and seeing her shirt and breeches flung across his bed, where she just almost forgot them in her haste to exit. The impression of casual intimacy that would leave just wouldn’t do at all. They’re dirty, so she won’t tuck them away into a drawer… She settles on draping them carefully across the chest of her belongings that the crew had so helpfully moved into this cabin. With the most innocuous bits of each garment facing forward, neatly lined up, to minimize all possibility that they might create the impression they had been flung aside by a now-naked woman.

When she’s satisfied, Hope doesn’t return to the main deck. They’ve likely moved on in conversation up there, but her renewed appearance might only drag their wicked minds back to making fun. Instead, she finds a secluded section of railing from which to hide a little longer, while contemplating the sea.

The waves are mild this morning, and the blue expanse glitters in the brightness of the sun. She wishes she had her hat, but it was missing from her bunk and she was not going back to Vane’s cabin to search out where the crew may have stowed it. Wouldn’t be right to start rifling through his things, even if no one on this boat seems to have felt shame doing it to hers.

When she had awoken, so embarrassingly nestled against her captain’s chest, she had thought it would be easy to simply carry on and ignore what had happened. The way that lying with him had made her feel. But now it seems no one is willing to let her forget it. The feel of Vane’s arms around her… she has to press her eyes closed for a moment, against the sudden rush of heady emotion threatening to disperse all reason and good sense in its wake.

She opens them at the sound of boots approaching on the deck. It’s Jack, strutting toward her with a keen, wary look in his eye.

“What.”

He lifts his palms in a gesture of harmlessness, then takes a place leaning against the rail at her side. “Just making the rounds. Ascertaining that each man is at his post.”

Hope rolls her eyes at that. “Did you disperse the crowd around Fellows, then?”

Jack fixes her with a look out of the corner of his eye. “Eventually.”

Hope sighs, and sags a little deeper as she stares out across the water. “I hadn’t expected the crew to be quite so… enamored of this idea.”

“No?”

“Sure, it’s a little funny,” she grants, “but they were like a bunch of gossiping old biddies up there. What, I wonder, set that off?”

She rounds on Jack, preparing to accuse him of stirring up the crew’s expectations. But something in his flat, serious look stops her. “You really don’t know.”

“Know what?”

Jack presses his lips together, exhaling a little huff through his nose as he chooses his words. “Darling.” He leans in a little closer. “Everybody sees how you look at him.”

Hope tries not to let her eyes widen at the splash of nerves that rush through her body. “What? How do I look at him?”

“Like the secrets of the heavens might be written under his skin.”

Next chapter here

#charles vane x oc #charles vane x ofc #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #captain vane #the heart of admiration fic #charles vane x hope wickham

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crystalsexarch · 3 years

Text

Three: Scale - E

"I can tell your tongue has won you many nights in many beds."

“My tongue indeed.”

Explicit. Ambiguous female WoL. The Auri Warrior of Light makes an exhibitionist out of one G'raha Tia.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2021 FFXIV Writing Challenge

G’raha doesn’t know what he expected, but her scales taste much like her skin—like a place his tongue has every right to be.

He has his arms around her waist and his mouth upon her neck. One pale horn juts up against his cheek, but he's paying much more attention to the rubbing of his cock upon her ass. He feels like a teenager, fully clothed, giddy, and grinding on someone from behind. He could just as easily have been slinking around some dark corner of the library between lectures, but he isn't. He's leaned up against a rock in broad daylight, surrounded by the glowing, ghostly ambience of Mor Dhona. From a distance, the wandering eye of a passing sailor might imagine the two a happy couple, not a horny one. Although—to call G'raha's relationship with the Warrior of Light a coupling would be far too generous. He is merely a footnote in the weighty history of Her.

"Finger me," she says, tilting her head to give him better access to all the textures of her neck.

G’raha has fingered her before. He and his dick are happy for the opportunity to do it again. "Gladly," he says, finding the band of her skirt and sinking inside.

"Do it."

"I'll do it!"

"Faster." She spreads her legs and leans forward, peering left and right. Misty Silvertear Lake waits before them, pretending politely not to know what tussles on the shore. "Would you fuck me here?"

He pauses as his index finger finds her clit. Well Warrior, he could say, I think I might fuck you anywhere. But seeing as he can't even decipher the tone of his own half-joke, half-answer, he stutters through another response instead. "Would I…?! I beg your pardon."

"Don't stop fingering me." She grabs his wrist and shoves his hand deeper. Slickness paints the inside of her smalls and the heat of her body. Once she's satisfied with his positioning, she begins roving over his willing hand, practically humping his fingers. "Would you?” Her voice is but a fraction breathier. “Or would you have me walk you back to camp?"

His mouth hangs dumbly open. The Warrior of Light wants him to…?

Here?

Before he can answer, he must assess his current state of affairs. Not long after her arrival at the Find, they wound up sharing the last embers of the campfire two nights in a row. On the third, they shared kisses, and on the fourth she made G'raha come by sitting on his lap and touching herself. Not to be outdone, G'raha invited her to spend the whole night in his humble tent, and by sunrise he had given her a thorough crash course on the nature of miqo'te biology. He would even say she seemed quite pleased to take in the material.

Even then he knew she was the vaunted Warrior of Light, and he a mere scholar—but when he felt his balls smack against her cunt for the first time, he couldn't help but fancy himself a bit heroic.

He started to get ideas.

And now they come back to him. This could be a notable blip in his sexual history, or he could become a part of history itself.

Moments after scolding himself for such an absurd line of thinking, he breathes her name against her neck. The Au Ra hear through their horns, don't they? Just as miqo'te want with rumbling in their throats and saucers in their eyes. "I would," he says with his index bending deep inside her hole. "Have you any reason to doubt my fortitudinous nature?"

She laughs and pinches her nose. "I can tell your tongue has won you many nights in many beds."

He flicks his tail, delighted. "My tongue indeed. Would you—"

"Cease! You said you would do it." She arches her back and casts a testy look over her shoulder. Her tail, lopped over her side, brushes against his thigh in challenge. "Yet here you stand, all buttoned up...with your fingers much wetter than the head of your cock. A pity!"

For all his verbal repertoire, G'raha cannot find the words that fit. "W-well…" He stands up straight and pulls his hand out from her smalls. The motion is indignant, bordering on protest, but the energy of the aftermath is unfocused. He lets the hand hover near her side before closing in and plucking at the hem of her tunic. "Let no man say you're any less an adventurer when it comes to intimacy," he says.

She scoffs and yanks the fabric right out from under his fingers, before taking it off and tossing it to the side. “Complete the quest you’ve been given.”

G’raha swallows. The Warrior of Light is baring her breasts for all the world to see—and for him to hold. Before he does that, he must check a few items off a list he’s scrambling to scribble out in his head.

Her smalls: he hooks a thumb on either side and lowers them to her knees, while she wiggles her hips. From there, she lifts a leg and slips one foot out, snickering. Her skirt: a simpler matter. He rides his hands up from beneath until he’s got a staggering view of her ass under his palms. His dignity as a scholar: something to scrutinize that later, he decides.

“That’s right,” she says, leaning forward to hasten his next steps. “But only if you want to.”

“How could I not want to?” The words are intense, but not harsh. Transfixed, he pulls her close and grabs her breasts from behind, cupping them whole before giving each nipple a reverent pinch. “After all your encouragement, no less…”

“I’m yours!”

Quickly, he lets go to undo his trousers and shove them down to his knees. No going back now, he figures. If he’s anxious, it doesn’t make a difference to his dick. He knows he could slide right in, but first he must relish the sight of his cock set between her cheeks. Rubbing the soft underside of her tail with one hand, he uses the other to form a ring around his shaft and bounce it upon her body.

"Are you looking for the right hole?" she says.

"Shush." He would take either. He would take anything. At this point, she could spit on his dick and he'd find a way to get off over it. He's thankful he'll have something more visceral to lead him into orgasm. When he closes his eyes, he imagines using her empty spaces to empty himself; a vision of thick white lines leaking from between her legs. Maybe he doesn't care if the world catches a glimpse, as well. Who is this woman? What can he be for her?

That's what he's asking when finally he plants his head against her slit and gets to rubbing. Cool, crisp sounds punctuate the immense heat of his precum mixing with her slick. He thinks of crackling lava, oozing through the valley. He wants to be a thing that oozes. He wants to fill what he finds. When her lips catch his swollen head, he hisses in a gulp of air and presses on, presses in.

She shudders and bends her knees, almost like she's desperate to take him deeper. Is she? "Your promises, when kept, feel very good, G'raha…" Her voice suggests—perhaps.

And he likes the sound of that. He likes the feel of her insides squeezing his outside, of doing what he’s done inside, outside. With wind in his ears and his hands on her hips, he makes good on his word and fucks her, a blissed out blankness on his face.

The Warrior of Light..? Really? This vision of heroism is letting him mark time on her backside where any wanderer could wander over and see. A lump takes root in his throat as he edges closer to climax. It’s harder for him to reflect on his conduct when he’s trying to think whole thoughts over a barrage of calculated moans.

“Someone...someone’ll hear you,” he barely manages to choke out.

“What shall they do?” she says. “Stop me? Stop you?”

No he thinks. And then he says it out loud, reaching for her breasts again. He wants to believe in the version of himself that is close to a hero like this. Fucking was simply the fastest way to close the distance . Of all the aches he feels for her, just one is stronger than the one compelling him to buck into her until his thighs burn—the ache to truly know her, to be a part of her destiny.

“Don’t stop,” she says. She’s reaching out to the ground, almost fully leaned over. “I’m close. Close.”

He is, too, to many great things. Coming, crying, calling out her name. Confessing. Cursing. Once more, he asks himself—could he ever be content as the redhead who fucked the Warrior of Light in Mor Dhona? Or would he rather take a great leap and become...

“Shout,” he says.

“Oh?”

“My name. As loud as you can.” He pulls her backwards by the hip and grunts.

She spills laughter over her fingers. “Loud as I…? Ha! What happened to—”

“Are you going to do it?” He edges out so the head of his cock is just past her threshold. Deep in concentration, he grinds his teeth and feels his eyes go wide. He's never wielded so much will in his life.

“G’raha! Keep going!”

“Shout then!” His own voice echoes over the water as he rams back inside and works himself once more to the precipice.

She whimpers and tenses her tail. “Yes! G’raha Tia!” Her knees come together hard. She’d have fallen over if his grip weren’t so steady. “G’raha Tia! G’raha Tia! G’raha Tia!”

The clench of her orgasm pulls him closer to his. Over and over again, she calls his name until he can hardly recognize the syllables through her frenzy. G’raha Tia, G’raha Tia, G’raha Tia! This place shall ever remember, and so shall she. She’ll remember, he tells himself. She will. And so he comes.

He surges forward with the first spurt of seed. Trying to catch his balance, he falls back a few ilms to the rock behind him, pulling her along by the waist. He does his best to fuck her from the strained position, only stopping when his legs ache more than the heat in his belly. Even then, he doesn’t pull out; they merely readjust to their original standing position and breathe together.

G’raha wipes his brow and slicks his bangs back. “You...you can call me ‘Raha’ next time. If you’d like.”

She laughs and smacks her tail against his waist. “Next time, hm? Perhaps there is a boldness to you...”

After this scene, this reckoning, he knows he’ll be blushing at the thought of her hand in his by the morrow.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv fanfest #g'raha tia #ff14 fanfic #mywriting #sorry for being like this!!!!!!!!!!

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babybunnyboy1 · 3 years

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Lil bit of da back story for my character Bunny. lmao black market shenanigans

Bunny let out a whimper, the small glass cage he was held in was too tight. His tentacles had a hard time fitting in the small space. He felt cramped, his back and tentacles ached with the constant squeeze he had to push on himself. The aquarium he was pushed into was much too small, and he felt awful.

He couldn’t get out.

Bunny sighed, his glow illuminating the room for his sensitive eyes to see. He saw weird metal trinkets, weird objects. The weirdest thing was a leather-bound fragile coral thingy. At least, Bunny thinks it’s coral.

As the witch flipped the pale-colored pages he stared. What is that weird object?

The witch sighed, opening the leather materials on the table another witch wheeled the aquarium. “I don’t have enough straps. Hey, these pages are wet- Dude did you drop some coffee on this book?”

"Y-yeah... Sorry. Oh, there are more straps on the table."

"Oh good, then we have enough. Just shove that thing on the table I wanna get started."

The second witch frowned. “W-we can’t harvest the ink without making it unable to move… this particular species is very delicate and very sensitive to pain.”

The first witch groans. “Ugh... I know. Royal jellies and all that.”

“Jellies?”

“Royals aren’t born, they’re raised specifically for their purpose. To be pretty. It’s what makes them valuable. This royal is what- less than 22? A royal this size is young… Have you even paid attention to your Dad’s class?” the first witch seemed annoyed.

The second one spoke softly. “I fell asleep during illegal black market marine class…” He mutters.

“Well pay attention now. We can’t kill this fucker, otherwise, this thing is useless. Royal Squid ink is super expensive, a whole stack of emeralds a bottle.”

The male witch stared, eyes wide. “A whole stack..” he fixed his gloves.

“Just be lucky that guy didn’t know anything at the market. A live specimen is worth millions.” She pulled out a tentacle, inspecting. “Good shape… Suckers work… A very well-kept specimen at that.”

The younger witch let out a sigh, staring into the small tank. “Isn’t he uncomfortable?”

“Miguel..”

“I mean it! If he’s such a fine specimen, one that is worth millions, but you got for half a stack, shouldn’t we try to take care of him?” Miguel said, standing straight. “R-right..? Juliet?”

Juliet sighed. “I mean… yeah… But we have to make sure it’s healthy first. Gender check, health check, make sure it wasn’t a fake, and milk it.”

Miguel stared. “M-milk-“

“The ink, Miguel. Think outside of your pants for twenty minutes… Just help me get it restrained onto the table.” Bunny whined and curled up tighter.

“Outside of the water?”

No… “Yes outside of the water. I can’t inspect his skin in that small tank…” Juliet sighed and turned around.

Miguel sighs and reaches into the tank, his leather gloves protecting his hands from Bunny’s teeth roughly digging into his hands. he held him down, face down onto the bed as Juliet started strapping down his body.

“Hold him down, Miguel.”

“I am Juliet! He keeps fucking.. Wriggling…” He lifts his head, letting out a noise of protest.

Juliet felt her heart squeeze for a heartbeat before yanking the belt tighter. He went to his tentacles, Miguel followed and used his body weight. Belt after belt, Bunny was held down.

Bunny laid, wriggling face down. Manuel adjusted his head for him, his body still yanking around.

“The skin looks fine… This glow pattern is very unique. Unsymmetrical… Right hip to the left shoulder in a nice pattern…” Bunny could feel Juliet’s gloved hands on his skin. “Very nice texture... Healthy there… I am worried about these scars though…” He wanted her to stop.

“Scars?”

“Look. Looks like something bit the shoulder here and," she paused to point to a different location, "here.”

“I see now," He paused, frowning as he took a moment to think. "Do glow squids bite each other?”

Juliet shrugs, fixing his gloves and taking a few tools. “Unsure… The bites are not from its kind of species I think." she used her quill to point to his hands. "Look, your glove marks from it trying to bite.”

Bunny could hear shuffling. “Ah… they don’t match…”

”Whatever bit it had a lot more sharp teeth and a different mouth shape than this species…Needle teeth maybe.” Bunny didn’t like this theory but went still as the female witch began to inspect his body. “You think we can try to breed it?” Bunny could feel his blood go cold. “No… so small… Probably not mature enough.”

“Small? That thing is quite literally 5 feet tall if we had it stand up.” Bunny shifted to see Manuel crossed his arms.

Juliet sighed and got out a measuring tape. “Actually, it is… 5’5 or less?.. and I think it is a he..." She paused, reading the tape with a hum. "Max 5’5. even so, I’m only measuring until mid tentacles because he can’t be on his tippy tentacles. It’d be unstable.”

“How are you sure it’s a he?”

Juliet stared at her cohort, eyes squinting and nose scrunching in a sort of disgusted matter. "Not answering that...” She mumbles, hands grabbing and feeling his tentacles. Bunny wanted to escape at this moment… “But I can tell he must be a juvenile.”

“N…not…”

Both witches went quiet, staring at the creature before them in shock.

“N-no… no grow… anymore… me…” His voice was hoarse from misuse. He didn’t want to sing any longer than before. He hated to speak now. It hurt.

“That thing just… spoke… didn’t it…?” Miguel could only nod to Juliet, his eyes trained on the creature strapped to the table.

“Dry…”

Miguel slowly and gently splashed the glow squid, eyes wide. “We-we… If Simpleton finds this guy we’re so fucked…”

Juliet glares. “Dude… that guy? That guy who ratted me out to my mom about me drinking at that party?!”

There was a knock. Three knocks, slow. Before a gentle rattle.

“Manuel.” She sighs, holding her head. “I’ll get your brother. Maybe he and his ocelot got to get fish for the squid…”

Bunny went still, looking up at Miguel as his constantly drying skin gets wetted by the buckets of water.

Miguel frowns then uses a rag to cover his face. “Stop pouting at me… I’m trying to keep you alive long enough to make enough emeralds to drive Simpleton to the dirt..” He mutters.

Bunny lets out a whine, looking down and pouting. He whines again, The door creaks open. He can hear footsteps.

“Wow- that thing’s bigger than I thought it’d be.” He hears an unfamiliar voice speak. He sighs and closes his eyes. The water feels good on his back, but the edges of his tentacles were starting to hurt.

“Lower…” he whispers, his voice quiet. Manuel gently pours over his tentacles, Bunny sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“Holy fuck…”

Juliet speaks again, annoyed. “We know. Manuel I’m done checking on him. Stick him in the well.”

“You want to throw something we got out of the ocean into a freshwater well?” Manuel stops, staring at Juliet. The rag drops into the ground.

Juliet scoffs. “I had Daddy renovate it. It’s got fish and coral and shit. It’d be like the cave they found him in!”

“That doesn’t make it ethical…”

She paused for a moment as if wondering if the man was just being stupid for a moment. "Miguel, we bought him from a stupid poacher. Just throw him in. And Miguel, throw codfish in too. That thing might be hungry.”

Miguel sighs and dumps a few buckets down a hole. Bunny struggles, moving away from Manuel as he and Juliet slowly unstrap him. Once freed, he tries to get up, wobbling and shifting before Miguel grabs him by his chest, pulling him. “N-no-no-“

“Sorry.” Manuel mumbles, Miguel shared a look with his twin brother. Both of them hated this but felt obligated to help Juliet.

Juliet sighed. “Just throw him in. And don’t let him waste his ink. We need it.”

Miguel and Manuel watch as Bunny is dropped into the well. It’s pretty deep, but not so deep that they couldn’t get their new property out without tools.

Juliet sighed as she watched the squid swim in his new habitat, taking the already killed codfish with him to eat lower in the pool of water.

#fanfiction #minecraft glow squid #minecraft fanfiction #glow squid #oc #original content #Manuel #Miguel #Juliet #Bunny #Bunny Squid #pretty halfassed in my opinion #i can't wait to be sad about this.

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mikauzoran · 4 years

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Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Nine

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Nine: Ghosts

Nino, Adrien, and Marinette continued to snuggle in subdued silence for a few minutes more until Nino took it upon himself to lighten the atmosphere by asking Marinette about what kind of outfit she was going to design for Luka for the wedding-slash-coronation the following day.

Marinette launched into an impassioned doctoral dissertation on the designs she had in mind that would match the outfit she had already created for Adrien while also suiting Luka.

Luka, Adrien, and Nino stopped her every so often to ask questions and seek clarification.

Soon, the lively discussion turned to mortal wedding customs and the order of the ceremony.

Adrien explained that Nathalie would make sure that Luka knew everything he needed for the ceremony, but the three humans took turns describing aspects of the event and answering Luka’s questions.

Nearly an hour had passed when Adrien’s stomach rumbled, and the young king was reminded that it had been hours since he’d last eaten.

Bidding a fond farewell to Nino and Marinette and assuring them that they would meet again soon, Adrien and Luka made their way to the King’s chambers where dinner was waiting for them.

“The kitchen made your favourite dishes, Your Majesty,” Chef Cheng announced, bowing as he removed the dish covers with a flourish.

Luka (with his glamour back up) gawked openly at the feast in miniature set before them on the small table near the windows in the King’s chambers. There was a wide assortment of vegetable and seafood dishes, curries, salads, hummuses, and bread…and a tiered tray of bite-sized desserts to round out the meal. Luka found himself astounded by the variety of colours and textures partnered with the heady yet pleasing mix of spices.

“Thank you, Shifu,” Adrien responded with a wide grin overflowing with gratitude as he scooped up some of the lemon and rosemary hummus with a slice of pita still steaming fresh from the oven. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your food. Please give the kitchen my thanks.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Chef Cheng assured, glowing with pride at Adrien’s show of appreciation. “It is our honor to serve you. Please enjoy your meal.”

With another bow, the great chef took his leave, and Adrien greedily bit into his pita.

The food seemed to turn to dirt in his mouth, leaving Adrien choking.

“My Love? What’s wrong?” Luka entreated, getting to his feet and hurrying around the table to his husband’s side, his hand going to rest on Adrien’s back between his shoulder blades.

Adrien reached for his wine goblet, taking a large swallow of the liquid and nearly spiting it out again just as fast.

“It tastes like over-steeped tea,” he choked, staring at the spread of food with a look of utter betrayal.

“Oh, no…” Luka breathed as he realized what had happened. “You can’t eat mortal food anymore after consuming fairy food for so long. I’m so sorry, Adrien. I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” Adrien muttered mournfully, picking up a pickled radish and taking a tentative bite. He cringed as the expected acidity of the vinegar failed to materialize on his tongue, replaced instead by the taste and texture of hay.

He looked up at Luka. “Does it taste this bad for you too?”

Luka scooped up a creampuff from the dessert tray and popped it into his mouth. “…It’s fine. Light, flakey exterior…subtly sweet, creamy interior.”

Adrien grabbed a mini pain au chocolat, biting into it in desperation.

He waited for semisweet chocolate to coat his tongue and bring back the usual rush of memories of his childhood…but the pastry was gritty in his mouth.

His hand fell away from his lips, and the pain au chocolat landed with a bounce, leaving crumbs and a smear of chocolate on the pristine tablecloth.

“Adrien?” Luka called gently, concern building with every passing second.

Adrien fought to keep his breathing steady as his heartrate picked up, a wave of panic overtaking him. “…I used to eat those with my mom.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Luka cooed, his heart breaking as tears began to spill over his mate’s cheeks. “Little Prince, it’s going to be okay,” he promised, pulling Adrien out of the chair and into his arms, holding his husband tight, holding him together.

Adrien choked on a sob, wrapping his own arms around Luka and squeezing to keep himself grounded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… I’m sorry. It’s just food. It’s not important. I haven’t even thought about pain au chocolat this whole time. I just…”

“Shhh.” Luka gently started to sway, rocking Adrien from side to side. “It’s okay, Adrien. It’s going to be okay. If it helps, Alya’s mother is an exceptional chef. We can figure out how to make the foods that are important to you. You haven’t lost anything. Okay?”

Slowly, Adrien started to nod, mentally grabbing onto Luka’s words like a life raft. “Okay,” he agreed shakily. “Yeah. That…That’s a good idea. We can ask her when we get back home. Sorry. I’m just feeling a little emotional being back here.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Luka whispered, nuzzling Adrien’s hair comfortingly. “I get it. I’m sure being back here dredges up a lot of old memories for you, and there’s a lot going on at the moment with your father’s death and everything. It’s okay to feel raw right now…. I’ve got you.”

Adrien tipped his head up to lick Luka’s cheek in gratitude. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Luka assured, returning the lick lovingly. He paused, noting, “You taste like you did that day I first licked you…. You were crying then too.”

“I cried all the time back then,” Adrien chuckled ironically.

“It made me think you were fragile…that I needed to protect you,” Luka hummed, reflecting. “But you’re not, and I don’t.”

“What if I want you to?” Adrien chuckled, tears gradually drying up as Luka continued to bring him back into the present moment.

“Don’t you have a guard to protect you, though?” Luka teased. “Nino has the biggest queerplatonic crush on you. He’d be happy to do the job.”

Adrien leaned in, touching his nose lightly to Luka’s. He then shook his head so that he was nuzzling his husband as he pretended to pout, “No. I want you to protect me.”

“You’re very persuasive,” Luka observed, tipping his head to lower his lips to Adrien’s.

The kiss slowly deepened and picked up intensity until Luka began to wonder if they were skipping dinner and going straight to bed.

But then Adrien’s stomach noisily groaned in protest, threatening to eat itself if no other suitable substitute was offered to slake its hunger.

Luka pulled back with a chuckle, making Adrien whine almost as loudly as his stomach. “Later, Love,” he snickered. “First, we need to feed you. I’ll run back home and grab you something edible until we can make other arrangements to keep you nourished for the duration of our stay.”

“No!” Adrien cried in a sudden fright, tightening his hold on his husband. “Please,” he added in a more level, composed tone. “Sorry. Please don’t leave me. I don’t think I can take being alone here right now, not even for half an hour.”

Luka pursed his lips, studying the worry lines cutting into Adrien’s face. “Adrien, you can’t deal with all this on an empty stomach. Water should be fine for you to drink, but what are you going to eat?”

“There’s plenty of food,” Adrien argued, tipping his head back towards the myriad dishes covering the table. He tried not to cringe as he took it all in. “I’ll just…”

“What?” Luka snorted lightly. “Choke it down?”

“…Yeah,” Adrien sighed in resignation, breaking away from Luka to rescue the rest of the pain au chocolat he had earlier dropped.

He closed his eyes, imagined the burst of flavor that he should be experiencing, took a bite…and tasted dust. His eyes began to water as he forced himself to chew and swallow.

“Oh, My Love,” Luka cooed sympathetically, gathering Adrien into his arms and pulling him down to sit on Luka’s lap in the red velvet armchair. He rubbed Adrien’s back encouragingly as the repatriated king sullenly consumed his dinner.

It was slow going, but, eventually, Adrien managed to eat a sufficient amount to quiet his stomach and keep himself going.

“I feel sick,” he whimpered into Luka’s neck.

The kelpie continued to run his hand up and down his husband’s back, making the soothing whickering and whinnying sounds Adrien liked so much.

Adrien had told Luka once that the sounds reminded him of the horses in the royal stables that he had befriended and often talked to about his problems.

“I’m sorry, My Love,” Luka whispered.

“Don’t be sorry,” Adrien sighed, reluctantly disentangling himself from Luka and getting to his feet. “I brought this upon myself. It’s not like it’s your fault.”

Luka grimaced as a stab of guilt pierced his chest. “Isn’t it, though? In a way, at least? If not for me, you’d still be able to enjoy this food.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and gave his head a toss. “If not for you, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this food because I’d be living a purposeless life without freedom and full of misery.”

Luka hummed thoughtfully at this new perspective. “Well…if you put it like that…”

“Exactly,” Adrien snorted. He then seemed to get distracted by dark thoughts as he looked to the chamber’s double doors. “…I suppose I should make a show of retiring to the Queen’s rooms so that we don’t scandalize the servants.”

Luka’s eyes narrowed as he picked up on the hint of fear in Adrien’s tone.

He stood, placing his own hand on top of the hand Adrien had rested on the table. “Something wrong, Little Prince?”

Adrien turned his head to look at Luka, and Luka saw that Adrien’s lips were quivering almost imperceptibly as he entreated, “Come with me, please? I don’t know if I can…” He paused and took a breath, trying to wrangle his flighty thoughts. “I haven’t been in my mother’s rooms in years. Not even after I convinced Father to open them back up again after he’d initially walled them up right after her death. I wasn’t ever able to do more than peek inside, so…” He shook his head, screwing his eyes closed. “I think this is going to be another one of those things that makes me emotional.”

“Shh,” Luka cooed, lacing his fingers through Adrien’s and giving his hand a squeeze to reassure him of Luka’s presence. “Of course. I’m with you.”

“I feel so stupid,” Adrien laughed at himself, an unkind bark. “I’m acting like such a baby.”

Luka tipped up Adrien’s chin with a finger, making Adrien meet his loving, empathetic gaze. “You are the strongest, bravest person I know. In the Couffaine family, we tend not to confront problems. We pretend they’re not there or we avoid them or run away from them. We don’t take responsibility or ownership. You, though,” he chuckled, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief. “You chose to uproot your life, leave your happiness behind, and come back here to deal with other people’s problems because you care about what happens to your subjects. You didn’t have to do that, Adrien.”

“Yes, I did,” Adrien argued, blinking in confusion. “This is my kingdom. What happens to it and its people is my direct concern.”

Luka continued to shake his head. “It’s really not,” he informed. “Your sense of duty and decency tells you that it is. My Love, you could have stayed home and let the kingdom figure out things on its own. You didn’t have to come here…but you did anyway because you’re a good, compassionate person. I can’t convey how much I admire you for that.”

Adrien looked to the side with a blush, warmth spreading from his cheeks outwards as he was unable to face the intensity of the emotions in Luka’s eyes, unable to deal with the way Luka’s expression made him feel.

“You’re here confronting all these issues head on when I would have looked the other way and pretended that it didn’t concern me. You have carte blanche to cry however much you need to cry,” Luka informed insistently. “You have every right to panic or shut down or respond however you need to respond because you’re here facing your demons, and that’s about the hardest thing a person can do…and I think the world of you for having the courage to come back here and do this.”

“How do you always do that?” Adrien laughed weakly, on the verge of tears even as he smiled and slipped his arms around his mate.

“Do what?” Luka quirked an eyebrow curiously.

“Make me feel like I’m an amazing person worth loving and not a pathetic waste of space,” Adrien snickered.

Luka squeezed Adrien protectively, mentally cursing Adrien’s parents for failing to instill in their child any sense of self-worth.

“Easy,” Luka whispered into Adrien’s hair. “It’s just a matter of showing you the truth, replacing those nasty lies about yourself you’ve believed your whole life. It’s easy to believe the truth.”

Adrien hummed softly in thought for a moment. “You make me feel like it really is the truth.”

“Would I lie to you?” Luka challenged without heat.

“…I don’t think so,” Adrien realized.

“Then it stands to reason that I’m telling you the truth,” Luka pointed out.

Adrien laughed, an ironic puff of air so soft Luka might have missed it.

“Yeah,” the young king whispered, pulling back with a cloudy smile. “I guess I’m still learning to see myself the way you see me and not the way that people here saw me.”

Luka squeezed Adrien’s hand. “You’ll get there in time. I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you,” Adrien stressed, gratitude shining in his eyes.

They stayed there, suspended in that moment, for a long beat, and then Adrien gave Luka’s hand a reciprocal squeeze before letting go and going over to the wall by one of the large, oak bookcases.

Luka arched an eyebrow as Adrien reached up and took hold of one of the brass sconces, pulling it down.

With a groan of unoiled hinges that hadn’t seen use in years, a hidden door swung open, granting passage into the room next door.

“Oh, wow,” Luka laughed, taken by surprise. “These old castles actually have secret passages? I thought that was just in the human tales.”

“This place is full of secret passages and hidden doorways,” Adrien snickered impishly, motioning for Luka to follow him. “How do you think I used to sneak around without getting caught?”

“I assumed your attendants felt sorry for you and looked the other way,” Luka snorted, stepping through into the Queen’s chambers.

Adrien stopped just inside the doorway and looked around, all manner of mirth falling away in an instant as nostalgia hit him hard.

Luka stood by his husband’s side and took in the room with interest.

It was quaint and yet stately, comfy yet decorous. The furnishings were mainly in the Victorian style with a few Second Empire pieces. The walls were papered a soft, avocado green with intricate floral designs, and the furniture was upholstered in shades ranging from pear to muted wasabi.

It was a calm, dignified room—nothing like the brazen, authoritarian scarlets, garnets, and vermillions that had reigned imposingly in the King’s chambers.

“Your mother had good taste,” Luka quietly observed. “It has a cheerful, serene atmosphere.”

Adrien nodded, taking an unsteady step forward like a sleepwalker. He went over to the sitting area by the empty fireplace and ran a hand along the back of the settee, remembering when he had sat there with his mother, taking tea, when he was a child.

“She brought most of this over with her when she came from England,” Adrien explained softly. “She liked to surround herself with things that reminded her of home.” A wane smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he added, “I’ll have to show you the little English rose garden we have out back. I insisted that the gardeners keep it up after she died because it reminded me of her.”

He blinked and frowned as it occurred to him, “I don’t know if they’re blooming yet or not.”

“You can still show me,” Luka encouraged, following Adrien over to the writing desk. “I’m sure that just listening to you describe it will be wonderful.”

“Flatterer,” Adrien snorted, brushing his fingers over the wood of the desk.

“Not at all,” Luka assured. “I’m just that smitten with you.”

Adrien hummed as he opened the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a small family portrait painted when Adrien was probably about ten.

The child in the picture was smiling and bright-eyed yet obviously trying to rein in his boundless energy in an attempt to appear regal.

Behind him was a beautiful blonde woman with clear, peridot eyes much like her son’s. She smiled sedately, and the action didn’t make it to her eyes.

Beside her was a scowling, taciturn man already starting to go grey despite his relative youth. He projected power and control, and he rested possessive hands on his son’s shoulder and at the small of his wife’s back, laying claim to them.

Luka could read the unhappiness of the family contained in the miniature portrait as clearly as if it had been written out for him.

“You were an adorable kid,” Luka remarked conversationally. “You favor your mother.”

“Oh? Yes…. Yes,” Adrien responded distractedly as Luka’s words pulled him out of his thoughts. “We’re a lot alike, actually.”

“How so?” Luka prompted gently, giving Adrien an opening if he wanted to talk.

“We have similar dispositions,” he elaborated. “Similar circumstances.”

Adrien stared down at his mother’s image, running a thumb over her painted face. “…Her father pretty much sold her. He was land-rich but cash-poor like a lot of the old, titled families. He had two daughters, and he’d already married my aunt to a wealthy merchant’s son who was looking to buy his way up in the world. My father met my mother at a party while he was abroad and promptly fell in love with her.”

Adrien chuckled bitterly, carefully setting the portrait back down into the drawer and closing it. “It was the only rash, idealistic thing he ever did in his life. He made my grandfather a generous offer, and that was that. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to go, that she didn’t really care for my father. They packed up her things and shipped her off.”

He looked up and around the room, watching a hundred ghosts of his mother reenact memories tied to the space.

“…She was so miserable here,” he whispered sadly. “Father was cruel. The only way he knew how to express love was by exerting control and subjugating. She told me she thought about running away many, many times…but then she had me, and she told me I made it a little more bearable here.”

Luka stepped in, slipping his arms around Adrien from behind and giving his ear a comforting nuzzle.

“She’s a big reason why I knew I could never marry someone I didn’t love. I saw how it slowly choked the life out of her. I watched as my father killed her year by year….” Adrien turned in Luka’s arms, burrowing his face into his mate’s chest as he whispered tearfully, “I knew the same thing would happen to me if I let him marry me off.”

Luka squeezed tighter, pressing bolstering kisses to the shell of Adrien’s ear. “It’s okay, Little Prince,” he soothed. “Go ahead and cry. I’ve got you.”

Adrien’s fingers curled around the fabric of Luka’s tunic, gripping it to keep himself grounded as his heart broke for a mother who had felt trapped and hopeless.

Luka patiently served as a supportive presence for his husband, radiating comfort and acceptance as Adrien slowly recomposed himself.

“Thanks,” he whispered, pulling away with a sheepish smile.

Luka gave Adrien’s cheek an answering lick. “Any time.”

“I just get so upset when I think about how she must have felt…how easily I could have been in her position.” Adrien shuddered and shook his head. “Some of the women my father was considering for my wife… He made sure that they were firm, strong-willed…someone who could keep me under her thumb just like my father had.”

Luka leaned in, placing a solid kiss on Adrien’s forehead, and then carefully wiped away the tear tracks still lingering on Adrien’s face. “It’s okay, My Love…but you’re safe now, and your mother’s suffering is over.”

Adrien took a deep breath, shaking off morose thoughts. “Right. You’re right. Sorry. I feel ridiculous crying like this over every little thing.”

Luka shook his head slowly. “These aren’t little things. …You remind me of Juleka, actually. You’re both traumatized by the accumulation of your experiences, so it may feel like just a bunch of little things, but a lot of little things really add up in the long run. So don’t feel ridiculous. Like I said before, you’re facing your demons, and that’s an amazing thing.”

Adrien’s eyes went reflexively to a door at the far end of the room. “…This is nothing. The real demons are in there.”

Luka frowned, following Adrien’s gaze. “What’s in there?”

Adrien gulped. “The bathroom.”

Luka’s first inclination was to ask what was so frightening about a bathroom, but he held his tongue and was later glad that he had.

“The bathroom?” he echoed instead.

Adrien nodded, cautiously beginning to approach as if he were sneaking up on a sleeping dragon. He took the doorknob in a shaking hand and held it, frozen there, for a long beat.

Luka rested a hand on Adrien’s shoulder in solidarity. “If it’s too much, we don’t have to do this now. Just coming in here after not being able to for six years is quite the accomplishment.”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m not going to be able to sleep in this room tonight if I don’t open this door. I’ll have nightmares. I need…” He gulped. “I need to know that she’s not in there.”

Luka nodded despite not quite understanding. He placed his other hand on top of Adrien’s on the doorknob. “Want to turn it together?”

“…Okay,” Adrien agreed in a small, scared voice, just on the edge of tears.

“On three,” Luka instructed and then slowly counted down.

The door opened, and Adrien’s knees nearly gave out on him, making him stumble, leaning on Luka for support.

His mother lay in the overflowing bathtub, her hair and dress billowing out around her reminiscent of Millais’s Ophelia. Tendrils of blood snaked through the water spilling out onto the floor and soaking Adrien’s shoes.

Luka turned on the bathroom light, and it all disappeared.

“See?” Luka coaxed as he half held Adrien up. “No one’s there.”

Luka winced as he saw how translucent Adrien’s complexion had gone. “…You doing okay, Little Prince?”

Adrien shook his head, swallowing a few times before he was able to articulate, “This is where I found her.”

Luka arched an eyebrow. “You…found her?”

Adrien nodded. “The chamber door was locked, so I used one of the passageways. I heard the water running, and I called out to her, but she didn’t respond…. I don’t know what I was thinking at the time. My memories are so blurry after I opened the door and saw her,” he admitted. “I think I thought she was sleeping or sick or something, so I went to the door and unlocked it and called for the guards. Nathalie was out in the hallway, and she came and saw and had one of the guards take me to my room. Later, Nathalie came and told me Maman had drowned.”

Luka’s eyes went wide in horror, and his stomach flipped as he realized that Adrien had been the one to find his mother dead. He had to choke back the bile that rose up in his throat. He felt absolutely ill.

“Oh, Adrien,” Luka gasped, pulling him into a crushing hug. “How could those nitwits make you sleep in here? And for what? To keep up some semblance of propriety? They should have just let us have guestrooms. This is unforgiveable. How could they make you come back here?”

“It’s okay,” Adrien protested without strength, melting into Luka’s arms.

“It’s not,” Luka growled, already plotting the pranks he would play on Damocles, Raincomprix, and Bourgeois throughout the remainder of their stay at the palace.

“It will be okay,” Adrien rephrased, turning his head to look once more at the empty bathtub. “I had to get over this sooner or later, didn’t I?”

Luka couldn’t form words to express the sentiment that he didn’t think Adrien would ever truly be over something like that.

“Come on,” he whispered, tugging Adrien gently out into the main room, turning off the bathroom light, and closing the door. “We’re done here, right? You saw that she’s not in there?”

Adrien nodded weakly.

“Okay. Good,” Luka sighed, guiding his mate over to the banquette seating by the windows lining the circular turret.

Adrien didn’t protest as Luka pulled Adrien down to sit between his legs and wrapped his arms tightly around Adrien from behind.

It felt good to be supported and protected as Adrien’s body struggled to recover from the intense stress.

“…You don’t need to worry. I really am fine,” Adrien whispered several minutes later when he was finally feeling calmer.

Luka scoffed softly into Adrien’s neck. “I’m not fine.”

Adrien lifted his head, twisting to get a look at Luka’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

Luka shook his head.

Adrien got up to sit on the banquette beside his husband, taking Luka’s face in his hands. “Hey. Talk to me. Please? What’s wrong?”

Luka met Adrien’s gaze forlornly. “It’s pointless wishing I could change things that are long past, but…if I could, I’d do anything to save you from some of the pain you’ve suffered.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m really okay,” Adrien assured, rubbing his thumb back and forth along Luka’s cheekbone. “Don’t get upset on my account.”

“But there are so many things…” Luka bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about how to get across what he was feeling. “…I thought I’d understood what your life here was like from what you’d told me when you used to come to our clearing and vent about what your father had done to upset you that particular time…. Adrien, today I’m seeing how little I understood, and it grieves me deeply.”

Adrien averted his gaze, dropping his hands to clasp Luka’s. “It was fine. I mean…I hadn’t known any different until I came to live with you. I just thought that that was how the world was, so there was no need to really talk about it. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you.”

“I know,” Luka reassured, giving Adrien’s hands a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just… Was there anything good about this place?”

“I was happy here sometimes.” Adrien looked up to meet Luka’s eyes. “I have happy childhood memories, and there were people who were very good to me. It wasn’t all bad,” he muttered defensively.

Luka nodded even though he wasn’t sure he fully believed Adrien.

“…I just missed my mother…and wished my father were capable of expressing love the way I’d seen other parents do…. And I thought I would never know what it was like to love someone so much it burned inside of me and for them to love me in return just as fiercely,” Adrien admitted. “But there were still good things. Nathalie isn’t a very expressive woman, but she loves me. Nino and Marinette are the truest friends I could ever ask for. I enjoyed some of my lessons…. There were good things,” he assured sedately.

Luka leaned in, pressing an airy kiss to Adrien’s temple. “Of course there were. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that your life before me was all bad or anything. I just…today has been eye-opening. That’s all. Just when I think I know you, you go and surprise me. It’s not a bad thing to have layers. I’m just…”

“Processing?” Adrien supplied, and Luka nodded, glad that his mate was following him.

“Definitely,” Luka agreed. “Processing.”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. Today’s been a lot for me. I didn’t even stop to think that maybe it’s been a lot for you too.”

“I’m glad I’m here, though,” Luka hastened to assure. “I’m glad I’m with you, that we’re here together.”

“Like I said before,” Adrien chuckled, “I’m so grateful not to be on my own. I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, you’d make it,” Luka snorted, giving Adrien’s cheek a bolstering lick. “I believe in my Little Prince.”

“At least one of us does,” Adrien snickered, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Come here. I want to show you something good about this place. I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh?” Luka arched an eyebrow in interest as Adrien took him by the hands and pulled him to his feet, leading him across the room to the harpsichord halfway between the bed and the door out to the hall.

“Oooh,” Luka purred, pleased with the prospects that the instrument offered. “Am I finally going to get to hear my talented spouse’s true musical abilities?”

“If this thing is in tune,” Adrien chuckled, pulling out the bench and taking a seat, motioning for Luka to sit down beside him. “They’re supposed to keep it in tune as part of the general maintenance cleaning, but I don’t know if they’ve bothered since I haven’t been here to pester anyone about whether or not it’s been done.”

Adrien pressed his fingers to the keys, playing a simple D major chord. He nodded in satisfaction as the picks inside of the instrument plucked the strings and the notes sounded true.

“Looks like we’re in business,” Luka hummed in pleasure. “What are you going to play for me?”

Adrien folded his lips back over his teeth in thought as he warmed up with a series of scales and arpeggios. “Don’t laugh when I fail miserably. I’m completely out of practice, but…this is a song my mother and I used to play. It won’t sound right, since it’s supposed to be played by two people with four hands, but…”

He shrugged and started to play the first minute or so of Mozart’s Harpsichord Sonata in D Major, K.381.

Luka closed his eyes and listened as Adrien’s fingers fluttered up and down the keyboard.

“You’re not out of practice at all,” he snorted. “Unless you were truly phenomenal before, anyway.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, elbowing Luka in the arm. “Do you even know what the song is supposed to sound like? I’m missing notes all over the place, and I’m completely off tempo.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “Not at all. Maybe a few finger flubs here and there, but it’s still very pretty. I like your harpsichord playing.”

“Maman was better,” Adrien whispered, fingers going still.

Luka opened his eyes and turned to find silent tears parading slowly down Adrien’s cheeks. He wiped them away and replaced them with a kiss. “Maybe I should learn to play harpsichord. Would it be good to have someone to play the pieces you used to play with your mother with, or would that just make you sad?”

Adrien bit his bottom lip, chewing on it in thought. “I think I would like that…. Someday, I want to play the songs I played with Maman with our children. It would be really nice to share them with you in the meantime.”

He turned to Luka with a timid smile and was rewarded with an enthusiastic kiss from his husband.

“I really like the sound of that.” Luka could barely contain a face-splitting grin at the thought of their future family together.

“Good to know we’re on the same page,” Adrien chuckled, smile growing wider. “…Shall I play something else?”

“If you’re feeling up to it,” Luka encouraged. “I could listen to you play for hours, honestly.”

Adrien nodded, fingers beginning to flow over the keys once more. “This is one my father makes me play all the time, but I still like it.”

He played Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G Major first and then followed it with a few more short pieces. Eventually, his fingers slowed to a stop, and he lowered his hands back down into his lap.

“All done?” Luka inquired, reaching up to play with Adrien’s hair.

Adrien nodded. “For tonight, anyway…. This was nice. I used to hate when my father made me practice, but…I did miss this.”

“It sounded lovely. Thank you for sharing that with me.” He leaned in to nuzzle Adrien’s ear.

Adrien closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the attention.

After a minute or so, he spoke up, bringing himself back to reality: “…I should probably go and visit my parents in the mausoleum…pay my respects.”

He grimaced at the thought.

Luka shook his head. “I think you’ve done enough emotionally taxing things for one day. We’ll go first thing in the morning. For now, you should go to sleep and rest up.”

Adrien contemplated protesting out of a sense of duty but ultimately decided against it. “Okay. First thing in the morning, but only because I am completely drained, and I don’t think I can bear to face them right now.”

“They’ll understand,” Luka assured, taking Adrien’s hand and giving it a bolstering squeeze. “Go back through the passage into the King’s chambers and make a show of leaving and coming in here so that we don’t scandalize any servants. I’ll wait here for you.”

“You’re the best,” Adrien chuckled, giving his husband a kiss before getting up to go.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Fae AU #Fae Luka #Hurt/Comfort #Confronting the Past #Childhood Trauma #Fluff #Healing #Supportive Luka Couffaine #Mikau's Writings #Among the Wild Things

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heroofpenamstan · 4 years

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WIP DAY: #6

Tagged by @nightwingshero, @shallow-gravy, and @sharky-broshaw! Thanks, guys! x

Unfortunately, the only thing I have in the works is a crack ( big emphasis on crack—I am being held at gun point. Send help. There’s blackmail involved. It’s been a week. ) smut oneshot attempt for these three cowards whom I tag to present their own WIPs: @faithchel ( Stella, get started on your own prompt, love; a deal’s a deal. 😘 ), @abosaa, @risenlucifer. Also, @ariestals, @strafethesesinners, @chyrstis, @deputyrhiannonhale, @teamhawkeye, @mackie-hattwie, @spicevalleys if you want to share a WIP as well! 💖

So, without further ado, kiddies, scram! ( Bad ) semi-smut under the cut! x

6. I don’t want love.—joanne burton + michael s. hughes; ( unedited. we die like men. ) snippet. Pretty lousy and some bits missing, not gonna lie, but I really need the writing practice since I’m rusty as all hell, so—

It's 4AM, and her lip is split at the corner.

Joanne taps her bloodied tissue to the gushing wound gently, repeatedly, until the red splotches shrink into a minor sting. She breathes in the fresh Montana air, the rotten tree bark, the sprouting flowers, and the heavy cigarette smoke rising from beside her standing form.

"Look, darlin', it ain't your fault, alright?"

But it is, and Joanne's damaged lip quivers.

It was supposed to be an easy enough assignment: a track down of one of John Seed's reaping trucks containing hostages of various degrees of resistance. And, don't get her wrong, it was going fine, up until the bullets ran out and Michael wasn't near enough and the back of a rifle collided with her face—and then—fire and screaming and—

"I had the blowtorch," Joanne croaks out, her right leg wobbling uncontrollably. There's soot on her shirt and blood on her sizzled jacket, barely shielding her slight frame from the early morning mist. "I could of been—faster and,—God." it's as if a ball is lodged in her esophagus; suffocating and choking and—

A reassuring hand lands on the back of her knee, causing Jo to jerk out of her reverie at the sudden contact.

She looks down at him, at Michael; at his disheveled hair and burnt up shearling jacket, at the scrap of his knee through his torn, dark jeans. He looks just as worse for wear as she, if the flicker of light shielded by his palm for the third time that night is anything to go by.

He takes a moment to release a slow, heavy exhale, and Joanne is left to admire the cloud of smoke dissolving in the air in front of her. Just as fast as it disappeared, the warmth of Mike's hand returns to rest on her leg that still shakes with the images of burning bodies and hollowed cheeks.

"The truck was already riddled with bullets at the gas tank. There's really nothin' more you could have done, dollface—nor I, for that matter, anyway." Michael coughs at a particular long drag of his cigarette, making Jo crack the smallest of smirks at her partner's expense. His green eyes find the small curl of bloodied lips, and for that, his own face morphs into a soft expression.

And yet, Joanne turns her head away from him.

He can see the slight shake of her shoulders, the way she tilts her head; contorts her face away from his unwavering gaze.

"Hey, hey," Michael's low voice tears through the sheet of silence as long fingers curl firmly about her leg. Joanne braves a tiny glance at him, and the concerned expression he wears breaks the dam, causing the unshed tears to stream down her face—finally.

"Oh, Jo," Michael mumbles, sympathy coloring his mouth as he tosses his neglected cigarette in favor of Joanne's hand. "C'mere, girl."

Joanne doesn't resist the pull as Michael drags her folded body to his propped form. His hand is in her braids now, grazing at her cheek and her shoulder as she digs her chin into his collar. He smells of aftershave and sandalwood, but Jo can still pick up the traces of the tragedy Michael had dragged her away from only an hour ago; ashy and burnt. His fingers knead her tense neck, mouth at the crown of her hair as he whispers soothing words and low promises.

This is nice, Jo lets herself think, placing her palm on Michael’s ribs, listening to the quick, quick, confident beat of his heart, basking in the warmth his body emits. He was always there to comfort her like this, in the only way he knows how to, and Joanne is grateful for it.

"I know it's—it's not my fault, but," Joanne's quiet voice is muffled, filtered through Mike's henley shirt as he takes to each and every word dutifully, finger pad tracing the texture of her braid. "There's gonna be a next time, Mike. You know this as well as I do. What if even more people die that I'm assigned to save? Just the thought of going back to Dutch and telling him what happened makes me wanna puke—this whole fucking situation is just too much!"

Joanne jerks her head from Michael's chest to get a better look at his downcast face, her cheeks flushed from the burning rage and despair that bubbles beneath the surface of her dark skin. Michael's right hand travels to Jo's exposed calf, tracing small circles along her smooth skin. He feels Jo's muscles there relax, loosen, and melt at his comforting touch.

She shifts her knee so her leg could wrap around his idly, and Michael's ministrations suddenly cease.

"You don't have to go back to Dutch's until you're ready, Annie," his voice, lilting and pleasant to the ear, has never sounded more serious to Joanne. She stares at him with dark, glassy eyes, and he returns her gaze with an intensity only few had ever seen before. Joanne gulps as Michael hooks her knee across his leg, draping her over his left thigh with little to no effort.

Joanne, in turn, wraps her tattooed arms around his neck, grazing her wrists across the hijacked car door Mike leans upon. There's a semblance of a knot untying in her belly, and Jo can only sigh as her body relaxes against his, nerves depleting, shoulders dropping.

"Thanks, Mickey," Joanne whispers into his chestnut strands, plush, bruised lips ghosting against his neck, and Michael closes his eyes.

"You're very welcome, doll," he manages out, hoping Jo won't notice the slight hitch to his voice as she scoots closer to his frame, shifting and tugging at his shoulders. After a slight pause, his arms coil around her tiny waist as he drags her towards him entirely, molding them flush together.

There's a danger to this sort of embrace, Mike knows; the way he can feel every curve of Jo's body against his through the flimsy top she dons, the way the heels of her feet dig into the ground on either sides of him, riding her up to press herself completely against him, and if she moves her hips one more time, Michael is pretty sure he'll—

"If you think that means I'll do your laundry for you, you have another thing coming."

Suddenly, Joanne's face is in his, eyes dry and split lip grinning, and Michael feels himself ache for her. His mouth breaks into a smirk, not quite easy, not as bright, but it'll do, he thinks.

"Wouldn't dream of it, dollface. I'd much rather you watch me do the Bend and Snap; might even entice ya—who knows."

Jo snorts, her nose wrinkling at Mike's words; but the only thing he can focus on is her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his back and—he starts to wonder how she would feel like bare against him.

God, fuck.

"I didn't peg you as the type to know Legally Blonde by heart," Joanne jests, soft laughter fanning his cheek. Mike graces her with a grin of his own as his imposing hands trail against her lithe form, observant eyes taking in the way Jo's lids flutter lightly, long lashes fanning her cheekbones, fingers fisting the grey material of his shirt.

"Yeah, well," Michael says, tone lowering, voice deepening as he rests his forehead against her bruised brow. "Gotta learn some legal shit to compete with John boy somehow."

Her resounding laughter makes his face shift, and, suddenly, he feels her mouth at the corner of his.

They both freeze, for a second—a minute—; Jo pulls back to look at him, to drink him in; the dark greens of his hues, the restrained set of his jaw, the feeling of his fingers digging into her waist—

The kiss Jo plants upon his mouth is searing, and his hands are relentless in their need to uncover more of her soft skin. Michael feels the familiar buzzing and tingling of nerves, the taste of blood and chapstick and Jo coloring his mouth as he tugs on her hair, relishing in the feel of her arching against him, grinding against him.

She moans, then, as Michael’s large, calloused hand travels across her stomach, her ribs, the swell of her breast. The way he molds and teases and sucks at her bruised lips, his fingers dancing across her waist and grazing at her nipple is carefully practiced, nearly calculated, she knows, and regrets not kissing him sooner, when she was desperate for release and craving another’s touch.

#wip day #this is pure crack #do not engage #dove does not know how to write smut at ALL #sorry for this mess folks #deputy joanne burton #michael s. hughes #duo: dumb & dumber #my stuff #My writing

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crystalk17 · 4 years

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Cat at Movie Night/ Mouse of a Time

Virgil explores Roman’s room as a tiny instead of a mouse. This does lead to some feelings that were not suppose to come out. When this is all over at least everything calms down with a Movie Night! Well we thought they would calm down.

Click here for Master Post to see previous chapters.

Virgil looked down at himself still mesmerized and confused beyond all thought. This wasn't supposed to happen. Why was this happening? He didn’t think this happened to the others, so why him? In all honesty it didn’t matter. He would have to contemplate the questions later. Right now he was faced with another problem he really didn’t want to deal with. Since he was no longer a mouse, he could feel his body calm down a bit, but only to a point. He still felt his heart beating a mile a minute; he was shaking, but unlike when he was a mouse he had more control.

Yes, the heart was still going, but when he was an animal he could have sworn he was going to have a heart attack. Yes, his shaking was still present, but he was able to stand straight. The best side effect of his abrupt transformation was he was thinking straight now. As a mouse all that was passing through his head was “ OMG CAT! RUN!” Now he was able to take a few breaths, processing the situation at hand. This was Roman. Yes a cat, but still Roman. In reality, he loves his beauty sleep. Most likely Roman was not going to wake up, unless someone came in and deliberately woke him up, or a loud noise occurred. All the other Sides were with Thomas, so that wouldn’t happen. Just simply leave. The darker side ran across the perfectly made bed to the edge. He was honestly a little surprised it was made this well, not a crease in sight. He ran to the edge of the mattress, tripping over one crease in the blanket.

Virgil tumbled over the side, luckily reaching his hands out to grab the material present. “ Please don’t be silk. Please don’t be silk.”He whispered to himself with closed eyes. He felt his moment slow to a halt, causing him to open one eye at a time to peer at his new surroundings. Virgil gave a sigh of relief when he realized that one, the blanket wasn’t silk, and two, he barely went anywhere. Virgil could reach his hand up and just barely grab the edge. Virgil easily hefted his body to the top taking one last glance to the bottom of what seemed like an endless abyss to him. “ Alright there was one crease in the blanket... Now what to do about that?”

Virgil looked around for anything that could help him. He could simply climb down using the sheet, but that was too dangerous. There were not enough guarantees of a foot or handhold on the way down. His head looked around the room, looking for any solution, and his eyes laid upon some frilly looking pillows. Virgil just shook his head in disappointment in Roman’s sense of style, but then it hit him all at once. One of those frilly pillows had string like tassels coming out all over on the outside. They were thin enough for the tiny side to grab a hold. They were just for decoration, but they would be of use to him. He ran over to the pillows, slowing down his pace, gaining distance as he had to walk past the cat, then went back to running over to his destination when the cat did not move. He grabbed ahold of one piece with both hands, pulling with all his might.

It took a few pulls, but he was able to make the string release from the pillow, but the force of physics said when he pulled and made the string release he would stumble backward a few steps, making a loud tearing sound when the string detached. Virgil quickly looked over at the cat, looking for any sign of a stir or twitch. The only thing Roman did was twitch his ear. So he could hear it, but in his sleep he wasn’t registering it was of any concern.

Virgil did this process four more times, just making sure he had more grasp on his body, so he wasn’t stumbling back each and every time.

After collecting five total strings he grabbed the ends of all of them in a bundle, dragging them to the side of the bed. He plopped down on the bed, crossing his legs, and proceeded to tie all the ends together. The problem was the whole time he tied them together his eyes were wandering to the cat on the bed right beside him. In fact the whole time, his eyes would not leave the cat until he had to move onto the next knot. By the end he thought he was finished and took a deep breath out, finally relieved he could move, but as soon as he held up his creation the whole thing fell apart. He growled at himself then started again.

“ Look, it's just Roman. Knock it off you...scared mouse” He started to actually concentrate on his own work, not allowing his eyes to wander towards the animal next to him. The only time he did was when he heard the cat make movement with its body, but it was just a purr.

He just sighed and went back to working on his project.

It was too quiet for him now. Why couldn’t he be happy?

“You know? I think I’m doing a pretty good job of this if I say so myself.” He held up the first knot inspecting it, also acting like he was showing Creativity.

“ You know... why can’t you usually be like this? Usually, I can’t get you to stop talking...it’s kind of weird.” Virgil found himself talking to Roman like he was expecting the cat to answer back. At this point he was just ranting out loud.

“ Usually I can’t even get a nice comment to leave your mouth... I do have a question for you Roman.” Roman didn’t answer, but he continued anyway.

“ Why do you have such a hard time around me anyway? I mean, I can understand you siding with Patton a lot of the time. He’s optimistic like you are, but he just wants to please people so half the time he agrees to make you happy.” He looked over at the cat momentarily then moved onto the next knot.

“ I mean, Logan is the complete opposite of you, and you agree with him more than you can admit to me you like my opinions.” He aggressively tightened the second knot and started to raise his voice.

“ But trust me, I know why. It’s because I used to be a Dark Side, isn’t it? You just can’t get over that I used to be one even though I try to help you out with Thomas.” He realized his voice was getting too loud, and immediately lowered it while tightening the third knot. He looked over at Roman sighing. “ Even though I know you are trying because you don’t call me as many names, you can just be a jerk.” He sat in silence, finishing off the fourth and tieing the end of the strings to make a fifth knot. “ There.” He held it up one more time. “ I think you would even be impressed Creativity.” He showed it off to the Prince then stood up.

He didn’t know why he was doing it, but before walking to the edge he walked closer to the cat. The emo side wasn’t scared or hesitant. He just strolled on up to the creature taking in all the form. Virgil looked up and down trying to take in everything. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never been this close to Roman while he was in this form. Virgil would be close, even have conversations with human Roman, but cat Roman he always stayed as far as he could. His instincts always told him to stay away. Far away. But this creature was sleeping. What was the worst that could happen?

Anxiety walked up towards the sleeping cat’s face and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to wake him, but deep down he knew nothing would happen. He shakily placed his hand on the creature’s nose. Virgil had both of his own eyes shut and laid his hand there, unmoving for what seemed like an eternity. He was just waiting on movement or anything. The tiny opened one eye at a time, realizing nothing was happening.

Virgil could see the pink mixed with small black that a normal human wouldn’t have noticed. The texture itself felt like leather. He then traced his hand slowly up along the nose actually petting the creature’s fur. He saw after he let his hand go back and forth the fur would part just a bit revealing a second layer of grey underneath. Virgil relaxed as he progressed, but then he felt tingles go up his spine as he felt the cat breath through its nose, blowing back his hair. He closed his eyes once more as the air hit his face, but he smiled and pet the cat once more. “ Good Roman.” He picked up the strings and flung them over his shoulder to continue on his way.

But Roman was still Roman. Even in his sleep the side had to be difficult. The cat rolled over on its side and landed its paw right on top of the smaller side’s body, making the string fly across the bed surface. Virgil was flat on his stomach glaring up at the gigantic creature with his eyes. “ And this is the Roman I know. Come on let me go!”He used his arms trying to lift the paw off him with no success. He placed his hand under his chin, tapping on the bed trying to think what to do. Virgil sighed one more time, took some time to scream into the pillow, then dragged his body away from the creature.

It took a few tries, but he finally reached freedom, exhausted after using his arms to force his body to slide out from the paw. When finally free, he turned onto his back and took a few breaths. “ Who knew this was so hard.”

After catching his breath, he stood up. He was an inch away from storming over to the cat and kicking its paw, but he stopped himself. If all this action hadn’t woken him up, let's not push his luck right now. He marched over to the string he tied together and wandered over to the edge.

He flung the now rope over the edge. As quick as he could, he climbed down to exit the room he should have never entered.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Hours later. Many hours later)“

“ Roman! We always watch Disney. Why don’t we watch Hidden Figures™? It will tell us all about women in the NASA program.” Logan said standing up holding the movie and straightening his tie a bit to prove a point.

“ No, and for your information, Onward ™ is not a Disney movie...It’s a Disney and Pixar movie.” Roman remarked.

“ We are not listening to another musical Disney movie about finding true love.”

“ How dare you! It is not a musical, and for your information they go on a marvelous quest to find true love...of their father.”

Patton was just sitting on the couch wearing his grey cat onesie looking back and forth listening to the two argue about something so simple as a movie for movie night.

“ Kiddos. Guys. Come on. They're both wonderful movies.” He was about to get confused about the whole situation.

Anxiety could hear these two from the kitchen. In reality, he wasn’t going to join them, but both movies did not sound too bad, plus who said he would get much done with these two arguing. Again. Virgil walked into the room holding a bowl of tortilla chips, sitting down on the couch. He hopped over the back landing right beside Patton to watch the argument like this was the entertainment for the night.

“ Virgil!” Patton suddenly wrapped his hands around Virgil's body and rubbed up against him like an excited puppy would. “ I thought you weren’t joining us!”

The purple and black wearing side looked over with wide eyes. He would never get used to Patton’s affections towards him. He looked at him just waiting for him to stop. “ In all honesty this is better than nothing, plus it’s not like I couldn't hear these two in my own room.

The loud side stopped fighting for a moment and didn’t really glare, but gave this uncomfortable look basically asking why are you here? Virgil honestly didn’t know if he imagined over half of Roman’s reactions. He was told he does.

“ Well hello Anxiety. Maybe if you are going to join us, you can straighten this out for us. Roman wants to watch this childish troll movie and I would like to watch Hidden Figures ™”

Roman about started to yell, but he fixed his hair so it was slicked back. “ It is not a troll movie. It is Onward ™.”

Virgil decided to think about the choices for a moment then blurted out his answer “ Why not Onward™? It’s a new movie.”

Princey was noticeably surprised and relieved. “ Onward ™ it is!” He held the movie up in the air, marching over to the DVD player like he had a mission and to complete it he had to shove the movie into the player. Roman turned around and noticeably went to the opposite side of the couch, nowhere near Virgil.

He sighed, rolling his eyes at the pettiness and now wished he picked the other movie just to spite him. He made his Disney onesie appear on his body, sitting down with a small pint of ice cream himself in his lap.

Logan sat on the floor stating he did not mind, right between where Roman and Virgil were. At least Logic was trying.

“Logan! Virgil! You need to wear onesies too!”Patton yelled out cheering.

Both Logan and Virgil looked at each other then back at Patton. “No.” Both said in unison turning back around to watch the movie.

The heart side started to pout like a child in a cute way. Virgil had one thing he couldn’t resist. It was Patton. He was the first side to accept him to the group, plus he had such a kind and open-heart. He struggled with it eternally and finally broke down. “ Fine.” He rolled his head back in protest but complied. In one moment a skeleton onesie appeared on his body. “ Happy?”

Patton’s eyes got big, he was completely overwhelmed with excitement, but he was biting on his lip to not yell. “ Yes.”

Virgil gave him a slight smile he hoped none of the others noticed.

While the commercials were still playing, the Disney wearing side started to talk and blurted the most worrying and weird thing ever.

“ Oh hey, Logan?”

“ Yes Roman,” Logan asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“ I think we have a rodent in the house. We might not want to tell Thomas, though. I don’t want to freak him out.”

The used to be Dark side went white as soon as Roman said this. “ Wait, how did.” He then thought back to the room. “ He wasn’t all the way asleep was he?”

Logan looked confused, looking behind him toward Roman. “ What are you talking about?”

Roman put down the spoon of ice cream he was about to eat. “ Oh. I said there is a mouse here. I could smell him in my room. I was just too lazy to go after it myself. I was in the middle of a nap.”

“ That’s beside the point. You should have done something about it.” Virgil noticed Logan started to do that thing that he does when he’s really trying to process something or understand something.“ And you said in your room?”

“ Oh Yeah...Why?” he then inhaled a spoon of ice cream watching the actual movie.

“ Nothing,” Logan said quietly.

Virgil then noticed he was talking to himself for a second to help himself process the information. “ A mouse in the mindscape? How odd.”

Virgil went blank white once more but bit into a chip trying to hide his reaction.

The smart side looked up at Patton and Virgil to try to see their reactions, noticing Virgil pitch white. “ What is wrong Virge?”

Logan only ever used that nickname when he was concerned in his own way. “ Nothing. Just watch the movie already.”

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larkiwrites · 4 years

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“Redemption” Chapter 12

AU: Supernatural Title: Redemption Chapter: Twelve Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count: 2,293 Pairing: Getting There…. Warnings: Mentions of being restrained, being drugged, and being undressed/re-clothed while unconscious. A/N: This chapter flips between (Y/N)’s POV and more of Dean’s POV. Feel free to provide feedback / comments / suggestions / etc. Thanks for sticking around.

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13 | Masterlist

You awoke groggily, your eyes struggling to open. The only time you could ever recall feeling this way was after having your tonsils removed. The drugs the doctors had given you to knock you out for the surgery had also made everything, your eyelids included, heavy and slow to respond. Fear flitted through you as you recalled the burning of your lungs as you ran past cornstalk after cornstalk and the fierce grip of strangers’ hands upon your wrists, just before everything went black. Had they drugged you? They must have, you couldn’t recall much of anything after the black fabric was pulled over your head. Shit.

You tried to steady your breathing and take in your environment the best you could, even without vision. Your thoughts felt hazy, too, you noted as you tried to focus on your other senses. You were cold, your wrists were bound behind your back by something metal, and all you could hear was the quiet dripping of nearby water… by the sounds of it there wasn’t a lot of water, either. It almost sounded like a sink faucet had been all but turned off, allowing only the slightest dribble of liquid to flow through and pool until it formed a droplet heavy enough to fall. You inhaled deeply through your nose and scrunched up your face at the familiar scent of mildew mingled with dirt.

You wiggled your toes and realized they were no longer covered by the socks and shoes you previously wore. You could feel the gritty texture of damp earth beneath your bare feet, bringing the realization upon you that you were no longer in any of your clothing. Whatever you wore now felt more like a skimpy silk nightgown or lingerie than actual clothing. You shuddered at the thought of someone unknown undressing you while you were unconscious.

With a strain, your eyelids managed to part. There was little to no light but you tried nonetheless to strain your eyes and take in your environment. You were underground or in a cave of some kind and you couldn’t tell if the darkness came from your location alone or if it was still night.

“Ah, she awakens…” a feminine voice whispered through the dark.

----- *Dean’s perspective

“I don’t think she took the road, Dean,” Sam tried to keep his tone neutral. They had decided to check the home they had found her at last, where she had worked to earn some extra cash for them. When they found no one in the house or on the property they had taken the car back the other direction, hoping against hope to see her walking somewhere along the side of the road.

“I’m starting to think you’re right, Sammy. Son of a bitch,” Dean hit the steering wheel with his palm out of frustration.

The elder Winchester pulled the Impala back into its place at the motel. Within minutes the brothers had gathered several precautionary items from the trunk of the car and headed out on foot. (Y/N) had a considerable head-start on the two of them but they weren’t about to give up and leave her to fend for herself.

At Sam’s suggestion the they rounded the building, instead of heading to the front of it and the road. They searched for signs that (Y/N) had been anywhere near here, their eyes straining through the dark of the night. Dean had never noticed before now, but there was a dirt road, just wide enough for a four-wheeler, leading away from the paved lot of the motel. He headed toward it, beckoning his brother to follow.

----- *(Y/N)’s perspective

Your gaze snapped upward at the sound of the voice. You could vaguely make out a silhouette standing about a yard in front of where you sat against a stone wall. You bit your tongue, refusing to answer them.

“They will want to see you soon,” the hushed voice continued, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Your thoughts flew back to Sam and Dean. They had tried to tell you it wasn’t safe where you were, hadn’t they? But then the foggy memories had come to light, revealing them to be dangerous. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you fought back tears. You were alone, really and truly alone, and there was no way out of this.

A cold hand made painful contact with your cheek, causing your head to snap to the side and bringing you from your reverie, “I am speaking to you, oblation.”

“Fuck off,” you spat toward the woman. What had she called you? Your mind began to race over every English word you could recall. Oblation did not appear to be one of them.

The woman hissed at you, actually hissed, before retreating to the spot she had previously occupied. Psychotic woman, check. Shackles, check. What may as well be a dungeon? Check. You had to find a way out of here.

----- *Dean’s perspective

“Dean,” Sam nudged his brother as he aimed his light toward a cornfield up ahead.

They had followed the dirt road as quickly as they could while still looking for signs of (Y/N) everywhere. One of the cornstalks at the edge of the road was bent and leaning over. The brothers’ eyes met and Dean rushed into the field, this being their only lead.

“Dean!” Sam followed his brother into the crop, “This could be nothing, Dean.”

“Yeah, well it could be something, Sammy, and I don’t have anything else to go on. Do you?”

Sam sighed and followed his brother into the vegetation. It was still dark and they had no way of knowing which way she could possibly have gone, he worried they would end up lost in the middle of the corn in the middle of the night and lose any hope of finding her.

“Sam, I’ve got more broken stalks up here, I think we’re heading the right way,” Dean hollered over his shoulder. Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line but he followed regardless.

----- *(Y/N)’s perspective

You had no idea how much time had passed since you had opened your eyes. There was no shift in the lighting and your only indication that time had indeed moved forward was the growing stiffness in your joints. As quietly as you could you stretched your legs out, taking stock of the fact that your feet and legs were not bound. You tried to stretch your arms out behind you, feeling along the stone for any kind of chain or bracket that may hold you to the wall itself, but could find nothing. Your mouth was not gagged, either. This didn’t fit the pattern of any kidnapping you had ever heard of before, that you could remember. Don’t the movies usually show legs and arms tied, eyes covered, tape over the lips, and chained to a wall or post? All you had were the metal links holding your wrists together behind you. Oh, and crazy-ass hissing lady standing guard. Well, that and the fact that you could barely see anything and had no idea where you were.

“What are the chances of getting some water?” You spoke up, hoping you might be able to get some information out of your supposed-guard.

You could hear her muffled footsteps as she approached you. Her shadow loomed near you and suddenly you felt warm spit hit you in the face. You jerked your head back in shock at the contact as she snickered.

“Fuck off,” she sneered as she walked away from you once more.

How the hell did she see in the dark? She obviously could, at least a hell of a lot better than you could. Getting the drop on her would be hard. This is her territory; she knows it better than you, even if she couldn’t see better than you could. Maybe that was the reason for the low security. You had been drugged and thrown into a pit you couldn’t make heads or tails of, you had no lighting, no weapons, no shoes for hells sake.

Ok, steady breaths, (Y/N). You thought to yourself. You weren’t going to escape if you were busy panicking, and you sure as hell weren’t going to just sit here and wait around for whatever that bitch had in mind for you.

----- *Dean’s perspective

“Sammy, I think we’re almost to the end…”

“Dean… uh, is the forest?” Sam’s eyes widened as they approached the looming darkness ahead of them.

“Shit,” Dean breathed.

The two men slowed their pace as they broke through the last of the corn stalks and into the thicket of trees. She could have gone any direction from here, and if these were the woods on the western outskirts of town then they were screwed.

“Dean, this isn’t looking good…”

“Shut it, Sammy. We move forward, we’re not giving up on her.”

Sam lifted his arms in surrender, “I didn’t say we should, Dean, but maybe it would be better to wait for the sun—”

“No,” Dean’s voice was stern, “She already has too far of a head-start and at this rate they might already have her, Sammy. We can’t wait.”

“What is that?” Sam’s light shone on a small bundle of color that stood out against the darkness surrounding them. The older brother approached it while Sam kept his eyes peeled about them for any sign of danger.

“Fuck,” Dean swore under his breath as he picked up the material. He recognized the shirt in his hands as one he had seen (Y/N) wear quite often. The soft fabric still smelled like her shampoo but it was cold, no traces of body heat left. “It’s hers, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes came back to his brother and focused on what he had in his grasp. He stepped forward quickly, taking the clothing from his brother’s grasp. “Shit, Dean. We gotta find them before it’s too late.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Right, well, it was to the left of the tree, so let’s head that way,” Sam directed his light to their left.

“And if it’s misdirection?”

“I don’t know, Dean, it’s not like we can go everywhere at once.”

Dean swore again before taking the shirt from his brother’s grasp and pocketing it in the inside of his jacket. He marched away, to their left, just as his kid brother had suggested. He knew Sam’s mind was thinking more clearly than his, his was far too clouded by emotion, and hell- they wouldn’t have made it this far if he hadn’t listened to the nerd back at the motel to begin with. He just wasn’t going to tell Sam, that. No need to let his already-inflated head get any bigger.

----- *(Y/N)’s perspective

Pushing down the trepidation you felt, you slowly shifted in your spot, trying to quietly get to your feet. You couldn’t crawl with your hands behind your back and there was no use trying to walk on your knees when your feet weren’t bound. Besides, you had an idea to bring your arms to your front. The woman standing guard didn’t move, that you could tell, and she definitely didn’t address you. Maybe you could get away with this, after all. You grasped the metal restraints to try to prevent any unnecessary noise as you tried to move your arms up, manipulating your joints into odd angles and pulling your wrists over your head, bringing your hands in front of you. It hurt like hell to stretch your joints in ways they weren’t used to going, but this gave you options.

Your mind raced over your only plan as you began to tip-toe toward the figure of your only guard. You had no weapons, and you knew you lacked the strength to hit the woman hard enough to do anything but aggravate her. You didn’t know if you had the strength to overcome her at all, but you had to try. You couldn’t hold out hope that the Winchesters would find you, and frankly, you weren’t positive you wanted them to.

As quickly as you could you threw your arms over the woman’s head and jerked her backward, using the chain between the cuffs on your wrists as a garrote. She gasped, her hands clutched at the chain desperately as you cut off her air supply, dragging her back into the dark until your back hit the cold stone you had previously sat against. The woman struggled against you, trying desperately to hit you. Her elbow came back into your gut, earning a breathy grunt from you. You ground your teeth together, refusing to allow yourself to bend over as pain blossomed in your abdomen. Instead, you forced yourself to pull harder, forcing her body into yours as you put more pressure on her neck. Her unwashed stench filled your nostrils and you swallowed bile as it rose in your throat, burning as it made its way up. What felt like an eternity passed before her body finally fell limp, the unexpected pull of the dead weight dragging you down with her. Releasing your hold on her you rolled away, gasping for air. Before you went further you checked her pulse, ensuring you hadn’t killed her. She was simply unconscious. She would wake up with a migraine from hell, but she would wake up. Despite how evil she seemed; you couldn’t bring yourself to actually kill her.

You allowed yourself to lie on your back for a moment, quietly bringing your breathing back to normal. Fear crept back into your mind as you thought over what you had just done. Where the hell had you learned to do that? Who were you?

----

-Next Chapter-

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readyplayerhobi · 6 years

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Night Stalker

; Vampire Hunter!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, violence, smut, a bit of fluff,

; Word Count: 17.6k

; Warnings: Death, MC gets attacked, slight stalking at the beginning, biting, slight blood play, penetrative sex, oral sex (receiving), fingering, choking kink, bondage, rough sex, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, spanking,

; Synopsis: Vampires are a thing of legend, and yet you find yourself being saved by a self-proclaimed vampire hunter. Only your saviour is half-vampire himself, and struggles with his base instincts. What happens when you get to know him more and feel an attraction you can’t help?

; A/N: Inspired by Blade...not quite Blade but definitely taking heavy inspo from it! Was only supposed to be a drabble...obviously not a drabble. Let me know what you think please as this wasn’t even meant to be a thing yet I really enjoyed writing it :)

Centuries of instinct is telling you that there is something wrong, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the source of your discomfort is the eerie figure that has been walking a good twenty feet behind you for the last four blocks. You’re not sure if they’re trying to be conspicuous or if this is their terrible attempt at subtle stalking but it has your metaphorical hackles raised anyway.

Shoulders hunching together even more, you quicken your pace as much as you can without it looking suspicious and listen to the way your Converse slap against the wet concrete floor. You haven’t even seen a car cruise past yet, but you’re not too surprised given it’s 3 in the morning.

Cursing Alex and his incessant need to go out partying whenever there’s even a whiff of pot in the air, you lament the fact you’d agree to take on his shift at the convenience store. And you then curse the fact that you’d applied for a job so damn far from your apartment.

The walk is nice and almost leisurely in the day, but in the foreboding atmosphere of the night it’s horrifying. Yellow tinged street lights flicker and buzz in the almost silence, the only sign of civilisation being the faint sirens and sounds of cars in the distance and you shiver as a cool breeze passes by.

Holding the strap of your bag closer to your body, you tug the material of your jacket and try to make yourself look as small and non-descript as possible. Eyes flickering up from your red and white sneakers to the vivid neon of the 24/7 alcohol store just up ahead, you let out a brief sigh of relief at the sign of people.

Glancing behind you as furtively as you can, your breathing quickens however when you note that the unfamiliar man is only a few feet behind you. Lungs working harder than ever, you find yourself almost jogging forwards in an effort to escape whoever this creep is.

A hand grasping your shoulder tightly causes you to shriek, spinning around rapidly as your momentum is stopped and you get a glimpse of the stalker for the first time. He’s tall and broad, shoulders hidden away neatly underneath a long black trench coat and you gasp pathetically, voice falling into a croak as you stare at him.

In the far off light of the next street light, you can just about see the deep, ruby red of his pupils as they reflect menacingly. Eyes widening, you can’t help but move backwards as he pushes at you firmly, his hand feeling like a steel weight on your shoulder as it clamps down almost painfully.

Back hitting the rough brick of the wall behind you, you can’t stop the whimper that leaves your throat as your hair catches against the material and pulls. It’s stupid to focus on that, but you find yourself suddenly focusing on dumb things like the fact his dark grey coat looks lovely and warm and he’s wearing surprisingly elegant looking shoes; dark brown leather that looks expensive.

“I-I-I d-don’t have m-money on me.” The words fall from your lips easily, like water from a tap, and you can feel the tears welling in your eyes to match how your voice wavers almost pathetically. That same instinct that told you that you were being followed is now screaming at you that he isn’t interested in your money, or your any of your valuables.

You don’t even think he’s interested in sex, given the way those intense red eyes focus from your eyes to your lips before resting on the exposed expanse of your neck. His free hand moves up to trace along your throat, the surprisingly smooth pads of his fingertips moving almost featherlight on the edge of the cheap and tacky work shirt you have to wear.

Moving forward, his eyes dart back up to you with a slow grin that does nothing to make him look friendly or happy. If anything, it makes your stomach scream with fear as he leans closer to you until you swear you can almost see the way his eyes swirl with a need you’re far too afraid to ask about.

“I think we both know that I don’t want your money. Not that you have any.” He whispers, voice low and raspy as he noses along your chin. A soft cry leaves your mouth as tears finally fall, slowly trickling down your face to land on his own cheek.

Lifting his head slightly, he looks up at you as he lets his finger pick up your tear before he slots it into his mouth. A groan leaves him as his eyes flutter before he’s grinning and you’re gasping out loud at the sight of his pearly white teeth. Both of his fangs are elongated, far more than they should be, and razor sharp.

The scent of your fear hits him in a wave and he inhales deeply, a rumbling laugh leaving his mouth as he lowers it to your neck. You want to fight against him, but the sheer pressure of his grip on you makes it impossible and you find yourself not wanting to anger him further.

“You smell perfect darling, rich and with the perfect hint of fear.” The unintelligible whimpering that splutters from your lips falls on deaf ears, and you find yourself randomly cursing Alex even more. You could have been snug at home, in bed, instead of being attacked by...a vampire?!

“Christ, is that how you pick up all the girls? No one wonder you have to be a creep.” A sudden voice from your left causes the vampire to freeze up, grip on your shoulder tightening until you’re crying out before he’s looking to the side with a menacing glare and snarl.

“Night Stalker. Run along now, I’m sure there’s a party of low life vamp’s you can fuck up somewhere else.” He hisses, spitting the words out with a venom that denotes some form of relationship between the two. Or at the very least, he knows who the intruder is.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve got me mistaken with someone who gives a fuck. Let me break it down for you. You, vampire,” The new guy suddenly launches forward, barreling into him and breaking the vampire’s grip on you as they both fall into the street. Both of them launch upright almost immediately, the vampire landing in an almost cat like position closest to you while guy number two rolls and lands back on his feet. “Me, person who’s going to fuck your night up real bad.”

At his words, his knees bend until he’s almost crouching and you watch with shock as he reaches behind his head, pulling what looks like a katana off his back and swinging it in smooth and assured movements. Breath coming fast and hard, your knees buckle and you slowly slide down the wall to land on the wet floor, shaking hands pressing to your chest as you simply watch.

A more intelligent person might run perhaps, but you can’t quite get the message to your legs.

“It’s going to be an honour to be the one to take down the Night Stalker.” The vampire hisses, muscles bunching underneath his coat. There’s a moment of tension where neither moves before the Night Stalker snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be the first to congratulate you if you do.” And then he launches forwards at the vampire, covering the ground in one astonishing leap which causes his long, black leather coat to billow out almost impressively.

Snarling, the vampire jumps to the side before spinning around, hand grasping at the Night Stalker before swinging him furiously in a circle. The intruder disappears down the alley next to you and the vampire follows immediately, leaping almost impossibly high as he chases down his new prey.

You should run, you should really run while he’s distracted, but you can’t make your legs move. It’s like they’ve turned into jelly, and all you can do is pull yourself to the corner to peer around the edge. Even though you don’t know him, you don’t want your saviour to die.

The alley is grim and dark, the light at the end highlighting the line of dumpsters along one wall while the skeleton of a decrepit fire escape crawls up one building. Deep grunts and heavy breathing come from underneath it, and you watch with fear as the vampire and Night Stalker fight, movements almost furiously fast.

A punch with his right arm swings around to hit the vampire square on the jaw before he ducks low to avoid an incoming response, squatting on one leg as he spins almost gracefully to knock the vampire’s feet out from under him. The vampire responds by rolling backwards, using the lost momentum to push himself back up before surging forward with a quick succession of punches that the Night Stalker stops with his forearms, lifted up to protect his face.

He misses a hit to his exposed stomach, but the thudding noise attracts your attention there and you squint hard enough to see the rough texture of body armour. Slamming his heavily booted foot down on the vampire’s business shoes, he takes advantage of the hiss of pain to spin on one foot before kicking out with an almost brutal amount of force, the vampire flying through the air to slam against the wall heavily.

Running to the side, the Night Stalker picks up his fallen katana and runs at the vampire as he stands once more, movements lightning fast as he swings a hand that’s suddenly clawed at your saviours face which is blocked immediately with a slash of his sword, the sharp edge cutting through the vampire’s thumb.

A howling shriek echoes through the empty alley, ricocheting around and making you shrink even further into your coat as you breathe quickly at his obvious fury. “I will make you pay for that you half-breed whelp.” He spits out, jaw extending in a snarl to reveal his fangs.

The Night Stalker takes a careful step back, his booted foot stepping into a pool of dirty water as he lifts up his sword once more, holding it carefully in front of his face as you watch the gleaming edge shine in the dim lighting. A low laugh leaves him slowly as he moves in short and careful steps in response to the vampire’s every movement.

You don’t even need to see them properly to know that he’s watching every single miniscule movement the vampire is making. Which is why you’re not surprised when he jerks to the side when the vampire jumps forward, spinning with a kick that goes high.

Your saviour drops low immediately and slams his own foot forward into the vampire’s supporting knee, the horrific sound of tendons and bone cracking loud in the empty quietness. Once more, an enraged howl leaves the vampire only now it’s with more than a little pain as he drops to one knee, breath stuttering out of him with deep growls of anger.

Crouching just out of reach, the Night Stalker lets the tip of his katana rest on the ground as he leans against it and laughs once more. “Sure made me pay huh? Say hello to all your over unforsaken brethren you piece of shit.” He snarls, and you have no idea who this man is but you can feel the loathing he has for the vampire in front of you.

Standing, he bring his katana up before swinging it forward in one smooth half circular motion. He moves so fast that you don’t think anything has happened at first, until there’s a horrific, sick wet sound and you watch in horror as the vampire’s head slowly falls from his body.

Nothing happens for a moment once the dull thud of the vampire’s head hitting the ground fades away before suddenly your attacker’s body bursts into blue flame. Choking on your own breath, you watch as he burns brightly and fiercely for a few moments before the flames die down and there is nothing left except ash, which floats away with each breeze that flows down the street.

The Night Stalker lowers his sword then, looking at it before sighing with disdain as he pulls a cloth out of his coat. “Undead fuckers, always ruining my damn sword.” He grumbles to himself, giving the blade a quick clean before sliding it back into the holder situated on his back.

His head rolls back onto his shoulders for a moment, and you’re treated to a large expanse of throat as he cracks his neck before he focuses back down the alley. You’d think he’d forgotten about you until a low moan bubbles up through your throat, the sound unbidden by you and almost unhinged with the deranged frequency to it.

Almost instantly, he looks in your direction and you can tell that he’s focusing firmly on you.

“Ah fuck.” He whispers before he strides forward, his no doubt steel capped motorcycle boots heavy and loud on the ground. His black leather coat swings out in the low breeze, fluttering almost ominously while he walks with a confident swagger that tells you he’s completely comfortable and aware in his own body.

It’s bizarrely sexy and terrifying all at once, and you scramble away from him as he nears you. Even though your brain is telling you that he saved you, there’s a larger part screaming that he just killed a man. Though another part of you is pointing out that he didn’t kill a man, he slayed a vampire.

But then you have to actually come to terms with the fact that vampires exist and that’s a whole other kettle of fish to contend with.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice is soothing and low, each word said carefully and with enough sincerity behind it that you genuinely believe him while his hands are held out in front of him. Reaching you, you look up his tall body and breathe even faster in response, noting the tight black jeans that hug toned thighs and leather belt that looks to have more than enough firepower on it.

Your suspicions are confirmed when he crouches down to meet your level and you catch a glimpse of two impossibly large looking handguns secured to his belt, normally hidden by his coat. Pressing yourself further back into the wall, your eyes scan up from the guns to his face and back again.

“It’s okay, I swear. He’s gone now. You can go home.” His face is half covered with a black mask, half moon eyes that look impossibly sweet and kind for someone who just swung a katana around like he most definitely knows how to use it. Black hair shines in the crappy street lighting and you have the bizarre urge to touch it, to brush the stray strands back into place.

But instead you just let out a strained sob, your lungs tight and constricting as the panic of the whole thing overwhelms you. Sighing deeply, the Night Stalker’s eyes narrow as he takes in your expression.

“You can go, I swear. You’ll be fi-...oh for fucks sake. Come on.” He hisses, head turning to the side to glare down the street. You look too with panic widened eyes, wondering what he’s suddenly annoyed about only to watch as two figures step out of an alley further down. You’d think nothing of it if it weren’t for the swords they hold.

Somehow, you don’t think that’s a normal gang thing.

Hands reach forward almost automatically, grasping onto the strap and front of his body armour and tugging him forwards to you until he has to rest a hand on the ground. “No, no, no.” You whisper repeatedly, words strained as they choke out of your throat while your head shakes.

He looks back at you and frowns, gently taking your hands and pulling them from him. “You should go now. I’ll take care of them. It’ll be fi-oh are you fucking kidding me?” His groaned words are the last things you hear as your eyes roll back into your head, blackness taking over as you fall into a blissful, and much wanted, unconsciousness.

Your room is bizarrely quiet when you wake up. The usual sounds of traffic honking outside your shitty apartment block absent, and you find that you can’t even hear the usual screaming of people in your neighbourhood. There’s not any birds outside either, which causes a frown to crease your brow.

Not only that, but your bed feels bizarrely soft compared to the crappy mattress you have. You’ve gotten used to feeling the springs poking you while you slept, and your back actually kind of aches from the softness that has enveloped it all night. The impossibly soft comforter that keeps you warm is most definitely not yours as well.

Did you go to a bar after work last night, get blind wasted and go to some random place with someone? While it wouldn’t be the first time, it would be the first time that you’d done so after work and you’re disappointed in yourself.

You couldn’t afford to waste that kind of money.

But some part of your mind is tapping away, telling you that you’re wrong and that’s not what happened. That something wrong happened last night. Something terribly wrong. Blinking slowly into the darkened room, you stare up at impossibly high ceiling. Like, really impossibly high.

Are you in a warehouse?!

Sitting up suddenly, you groan out in pain as your shoulder screams out in anger, a hand coming to rest against it as if to try and help. Panting at it, you look around in confusion and note that the large, possibly queen sized bed, is situated in what looks to be a home area of a large warehouse.

Next to the bed is a small table with a clock sitting on it, the neon green numbers telling you that it’s five o’clock in the afternoon. Your eyes can’t help but widen at the sight of the time, and you wonder just how drunk you’d gotten last night.

The good news is that you don’t have to work today, or tonight, so you’re definitely free. But that doesn’t explain how you got into this warehouse.

A dresser sits against another wall with a lamp in the corner, and you look around in bemusement. These living quarters have been placed into the corner of the warehouse, and when you get up and pad on the cool, wooden floor you note that there is a closet behind the door closest to you and a second door that leads to a surprisingly elegant bathroom.

Brows raising, you walk out of the remaining door and marvel at the large space in front of you. To your right is a kitchen, exceptionally minimal with just a counter in the centre and a few more counters against a wall, a large silver fridge taking up space while an oven and hob take up one counter. A sink sits atop one counter, but there’s not much else there apart from a microwave.

To your left is what you imagine is a living room, with a battered black leather couch with a red blanket laid over it facing an ridiculously large television screen. Walking forwards, you note the open beer sat on the low, dark wood coffee table and the game controller resting idly on one of the couch pillows.

The rest of the warehouse sits before you, though you note that the home space has been raised higher than everything else to separate it. Resting a hand on the metal rail, you lean against it and try to take in everything you can see.

A large space in front of you is taken up with two cars, one a sleek black Mustang and the other a more innocuous looking Ford pickup. The battered black van next to them both stands out even more, and if you peer then you can just about see the motorbike resting on its stand behind the van.

All around the vehicles are tables with multiple tools resting atop them along with a few being on specialised walls with hooks. Mechanic style drawers stand tall and you note a few of them open, the contents full of tiny nuts and bolts that also litter the table. One table has a cracked leather stool sitting at it, but there’s no one there at the moment. The steaming cup of coffee lets you know that someone's been there recently though.

Along the right side of the warehouse are stacks of shelving, with their shelves filled with items that are currently covered in dusty canvas. You wonder momentarily if they’re there for a reason or if it’s just stuff that came with the warehouse.

You’re not exactly knowledgeable about the purchasing of warehouses after all.

The left wall makes your eyes widen, and you take in the gun rack that lines along it. All kinds of guns have been placed carefully, from shotguns to what even looks like a sniper rifle and your hands clench the rail tightly. What the hell was this place?!

It’s the sight of the rack next to this though, with multiple elegant swords sitting prettily on their hooks, that gets you. If it were any other day, then you might admire the extensive range of swords on display and think they were pretty.

But what they do is cause flashbacks in your mind and suddenly you’re back into last night, the creepy vampire guy breathing against your neck before the fight flashes before your eyes. Gasping loudly, you can’t stop the quick and heavy breathing that takes over as you stumble backwards, falling into someone’s hard body.

Spinning immediately, you let out a shriek as you fall over, landing on your ass harshly and panting out as you scrabble backwards. You don’t recognise this newcomer and watch with wide eyes as he gasps loudly and gets onto his knees, holding his hands up as the bag of cheese puffs he’d been carrying falls to the ground.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were awake!” He gets out, voice high with tension as you scan him over. His skin is a golden tan and you note the handsome face he’s been blessed with, peachy coloured hair wispy and soft as it falls on either side of his forehead. There’s a few black marks of grease in the pretty hair, along with a mark on his sculpted nose, but the warmth and friendliness he emits already cause you to relax a little.

“Where am I? Did...did last night really happen?” You ask quickly, hugging your knees to your chest as your eyes take in the warehouse. The last thing you remember is your saviour cursing out as you fell unconscious, and you wonder if this is where he lives or something. “Where’s the Night Stalker?”

At that, your new acquaintance sits back and lets out a confused noise, one knee underneath him while he rests his elbow on the other. A baggy white shirt adorns him while ridiculously large tan trousers are on his lower half, making him look like some strange mechanic combined with a 70s hipster.

“Wow...where did you hear that?” He presses a finger to his pouting lips before suddenly letting out a little ‘aah’ noise. “Oh wait, he said he took out the blood sucker. You probably heard it then. Well...yes last night happened unfortunately. I’m sorry you had to witness, and experience, that. But it’s okay kind of? Hoseok saved you. You passed out when the others turned up and he didn’t know where you lived as you didn’t have your ID on you, so he just had to bring you home. We’re...sorry about that.”

Staring at him, you take another look around the warehouse. “You live here?”

He stiffens up at that, looking just a tiny bit affronted. “Okay, well maybe I don’t. I have a sweet trailer parked round back as Hoseok likes his own space. But there’s nothing wrong with this. People would kill to get this much space for how much we pay. Honestly, it’s amazing really.”

“I didn’t mean that, I just...I don’t know what I meant. Is that his name then? Hoseok?” It fit your saviour better than Night Stalker, and he suddenly seemed much less intimidating now that he has a name and not just an ominous moniker.

The guy goes a little bashful then, picking up his chips before standing and helping you up as well. Directing you over to the couch, he slumps down in it before opening the pack and stuffing a few into his mouth. Looking to you, he offers you the pack and you find yourself grabbing a handful yourself.

It’s like you’ve suddenly realised how hungry you are, and he watches in amusement as you happily take the pack from him and almost inhale the food. Getting up, he heads to the fridge to grab a bottle of water for you before grabbing some more chips for himself.

“Yeah, he’s Hoseok. Night Stalker is what the bloodsuckers call him. I’m Taehyung; his engineer, mechanic and whatever else he wants me to be. Wait, that sounded erotic. Not that. Though if he wanted it, I wouldn’t say no I mean...hello. I’d say I’m his best friend, though he gets all grumbly when you say that. I think he thinks it ruins his ‘aura’.” Taehyung snorts, making finger quotations before handing you the water.

You unscrew the cap and drink greedily, enjoying the cool liquid as it slides down your throat. Introducing yourself, you shake his hand for a moment before your shoulders slump as you finally acknowledge the reality.

“So...bloodsuckers. If my pop culture knowledge is correct, and I’m not being particularly dumb or something, I’m guessing that means that the guy Hoseok killed was a vampire right?” Fingers playing with the label of the water bottle, you glance over at Taehyung to get his reaction.

He’s watching you carefully, whiskey eyes taking in every detail of your face before his lips purse. Sighing heavily, he nods as he brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah. Vampires. It’s all very...Underworld-y I guess. I wish we could make you forget but that’s just...not a thing they can do. Most of the time, their victims usually die so...count yourself lucky that Hoseok was there when he was. Though they’re usually a little more discreet than that.” He reaches forward and grabs the beer bottle, taking a swig.

You’re silent for a few minutes, trying to get your brain around everything without freaking out even more than you already are. Swallowing thickly, you glance behind you to the wall of guns and swords, taking in the sight of the sword you’d seen yesterday.

“How did...how did Hoseok get into this? I mean...the vampire was so strong.” Your words are whispered in confusion and Taehyung lets out a deep breath, his lips pressing together at the end.

“Well...I mean...I got into this because my parents got killed by vampires when I was fifteen. Hoseok took care of them and then...took me in because I wouldn’t leave him alone basically. I’ve made myself useful to him. But he...I mean Hoseok…” He struggles to find the words before he’s suddenly interrupted by another voice, higher yet still distinctly male.

“I’m the only one who can fight against the vampires.” Jumping and giving a tiny shriek, you hold the bag of cheese puffs to your chest as you look to your side. Climbing up the stairs to the little living area is Hoseok, his attire different to yesterday’s and you can’t help but stare in the light of day.

Black sweatpants adorn his legs, the waistband low enough for you to glimpse while a black workout shirt clings to his chest. Each breath he takes lets you see the outline of an incredibly toned abdomen, and the sleeveless shirt showcases his astonishing biceps. You can see now that he’s tall and lean, but nothing can hide the muscles that appear whenever he moves.

It’s almost too intimate to see him like this, with his feet bare and skin glistening golden with sweat, dark hair plastered to his forehead as he reaches into the fridge. The bottle he pulls out is dark, and you swear it almost looks like red wine in the light.

“Why you? I mean, you were fast yeah. But he was so fast, and so strong.” Hoseok chuckles, the sound reverberating in your very body until you swear you can feel him in your womb and you curse yourself silently. This man had killed someone in front of you yesterday, saved you from the worst incident in your life and here you were already thirsting over him.

“I know. But I’m just as fast. And just as strong.” He demonstrates this by jumping forward in one, long leap that takes him to the other side of the sofa. Squealing, you push yourself into Taehyung and watch as Hoseok sits down heavily in the matching armchair that sits to the side, his head resting against the back.

“How...how can you do that?!” You’re not entirely sure that you can get anymore words out, nor are you sure that you could grip Taehyung’s arm even tighter than you already are. He runs his hand along your arm soothingly, before looking at you firmly.

“You can’t freak out okay? Please don’t freak out when he tells you. Hoseok is the good guy, I swear.” He mutters and you frown, eyes flicking back over to the ridiculously attractive guy who incites both dual lust and slight fear in you.

Hoseok watches you quietly for a moment, his eyes moving down to your hands before he glances back up to catch your eyes. He really is arrestingly beautiful, and you wonder what on earth went on to put two of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in the same room together.

But there’s a roughness to Hoseok that attracts you more, a slight darkness in his eyes and demeanour that makes your thighs clench unwillingly. And you felt it had nothing to do with his extraordinary fighting skills, nor the fact he killed someone yesterday.

Which you’ve still not forgotten yet.

Keeping his gaze firmly on yours, Hoseok unscrews his own bottle and takes a long, deep drink. Whatever he has is surprisingly thicker than you expected, and he grimaces as he drinks as if he’s unhappy with the taste of it.

It’s only when he pulls the bottle away, half of it empty already, that your stomach twists on itself furiously. His lips, a rosy pink before, are now stained red and as you watch, he licks his teeth clean to reveal two fangs that are sharper than either yours or Taehyung’s.

“Holy shit, holy shit-” You begin to gasp, fingers tightening on Taehyung’s arm even more until he’s whining lowly. Hoseok watches your reaction and sighs deeply, wiping his arm over his mouth before sitting forward and resting his forearms on his knees.

“Please don’t freak out. I have no intention of hurting you, just like I didn’t last night. Or this morning rather.” He sounds completely calm and you wonder how that’s possible when it feels like your mind is collapsing in on itself. How is Taehyung so calm?! He’s a vampire!

But then you suddenly note how his shoulder is currently in a ray of sunlight, perfectly unharmed, and how his eyes are still the warm brown that you saw last night. Not a hint of scarlet in his eyes like the vampire who had attacked you.

“How...how are you in the sunlight? I mean...that’s a thing right?” You whisper fervently, fingers moving to grip at Taehyung’s shirt until he grumbles and pushes you away slightly.

“It is a thing. Vampires can’t be in sunlight, it’s instant death for them. They burn up immediately like you saw last night. I’m not a vampire; I’m a half vampire. The correct name is a dhampir, but the bloodsuckers call me Night Stalker. I have their speed and strength but not their weakness to sunlight. My only weakness is that I need to consume blood, but I only use donated blood that is cold and I take no enjoyment from it.” Hoseok’s words are firm and the disgusted glance he gives his bottle makes you think he’s being truthful.

Taehyung interrupts though, raising a long fingered hand to point at the dhampir. “Kind of lying there. He does enjoy drinking blood, but he won’t do it like vampire’s do. And he won’t drink it warm. Only cold, so he doesn’t actually get the full sustenance he needs, but he’s capable of eating a certain amount of human food.”

Hoseok glares at him at that, baring his teeth slightly at the unwanted interruption from Taehyung.

“No one asked you, brat. My parents were originally human, but my mother was turned moments before I was born. She tried to hold on but it didn’t work. I didn’t fully turn, and we guess that it somehow merged together. I’ve never heard of another dhampir, and they sure don’t like me. My father took me and ran, before they found him again when I was sixteen. I’ve been on my own since then, until I found this mutt.” He gestures to Taehyung, but you can already see the underlying fondness he doesn’t want to let out.

“How old are you then? Are vampires immortal? Do you age?” You pepper him with questions, hoping that the more you know about him, the less afraid you’ll be. Though if you were being entirely honest, you struggled to truly be afraid of him. It’s hard to worry when he’d fought to save you last night, and had brought you here to keep you safe.

He doesn’t answer you for a moment, drinking the last of his bottle before placing it on the coffee table and sitting back. It’s absurd how much you want to sit on his lap and run your fingers through his hair, and you wonder if you’re experiencing that whole saviour complex thing where you fall in love with someone who saves you.

“I’m not immortal, I still age though my appearance seems to be taking longer to catch up. My human weakness and something I’ve no doubt the bloodsuckers rejoice every day about. Which is why I’m going to take out as many of them as I can before I finally go.” You watch him carefully, noting how calm and relaxed he seems as he lets his head rest.

“If you’re half vampire...why do you hate them so much? I mean...they’re half you.”

Taehyung pokes at your side lightly, a slight look of censure on his face which causes you to frown in response.

“They killed my father. They resulted in my mother’s death. They killed Taehyung’s family. They try to kill me repeatedly, just for existing. They kill thousands upon thousands of humans across the world without a single care. I can’t let them just exist.” His words are bitter and filled with anger while Taehyung simply plays with the seam of his trousers.

“But...by the same logic...humans kill millions of humans. We’re the worst thing this planet has seen. I mean...I’m not saying you’re wrong or anything, one did try to kill me.” Hoseok looks at you for a moment, those deep brown eyes focused so intently on you that it feels like he’s trying to look straight through you.

“True. But the humans have police. They have lawyers and judges and courts and prisons. The vampires have me. And that’s it.” You quieten at that, acknowledging that this words are likely true. It feels stupid to argue with him, as you know so little about the world they’ve been living in.

Silence falls over you all for a few minutes before Taehyung coughs, the sound sharp and almost nervous as if he’s afraid to break up the quiet atmosphere. Looking at him, he’s having some kind of silent conversation with Hoseok before he lets out a deep sigh and stands.

“Okay, as nice as this chat is. I think I should take you home now. We checked you over when you were brought in and there’s nothing wrong with you. And the vampires are dead so you’ll be completely safe. Just...pretend you didn’t know or something.” He says, standing up and gesturing for you to get up too.

Taehyung grabs your bag from one of the counters in the kitchen before handing it to you and heading down the stairs, grabbing some keys and starting up the Ford with a roar. You stand there for a moment before looking back at Hoseok, who remains sprawled in the armchair with one ankle resting on his other knee, his temple leant on his closed fist as he leans against the back.

“Stay safe little one. I hope I don’t see you again. And don’t walk home alone at 3 in the morning please. Take a taxi, even if it costs a little more.” He says, voice carefully flat and neutral. You feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you nod your head in response.

“Thanks. For everything. You know, saving me and...bringing me back here. You’re not nearly as mean as you look.” Hoseok lips purse for a moment as he tries to stop his smile before he laughs, shaking his head while running his fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, I think? Was nice to see a woman in my bed, never had that happen before.” He grins and winks, causing a sizzle of excitement to zip through your stomach to between your legs. You’re not sure if he can sense your arousal but his lips twist in a smirk anyway as he gestures towards the car.

“Go. Taehyung is young and impatient.” Nodding to him once more, you run down the stairs and slip your shoes on before climbing into the tall truck with Taehyung. After giving him the directions, you watch the man still sat in the chair as the car backs out until you can’t see him anymore.

What a day.

The weeks pass by quickly after the ‘incident’ as you like to refer to it, until soon they become months. Your life continues on almost exactly as it had before, with you taking whatever shifts you can at the store while occupying your free time with online classes.

A rough childhood had meant that there had been no money for college, and you weren’t smart enough to qualify for scholarships. So a lot of scrimping and saving meant that you’d finally enrolled in an online degree at 26, and now 2 years later you only had 4 more years to go.

Easy. Then you’d finally be able to get a damn teaching job and you’d be set for life. A stable job meant stable money, which meant a stable lifestyle in turn.

Or at least, everything would be on the road to stability if a certain vampire hunter hadn’t rocked your world until nothing even looked the same anymore.

“You do have a home, don’t you? Or should I be charging you rent?” Hoseok’s voice is filled with exasperation as he climbs up the stairs to the living area, his heavy boots loud in the quietness of the warehouse. He stands there and watches you with a half annoyed, half bemused look on his face while his arms cross over his chest.

His usual black jeans are cupping his legs tightly while his protective body armour is still attached to his torso, a long sleeved dark grey shirt underneath. A leather belt is wrapped around his waist, specialised bullets in magazines slotted into compartments while two gun holsters hold the ridiculously large guns he has on either side.

Normally, he looks like he’s just gone out for a light walk when he goes out hunting. But today, he looks like he’s had a real fight. Hoseok’s lip is split with a trail of blood smeared on his chin, a dark bruise is blossoming on his cheek while a slash at his thigh reveals smooth skin with a healing cut.

Frowning, you immediately get up from the couch and abandon Taehyung to play his game of Mario Kart on his own as you move over to the dhampir. You’d found yourself incapable of not coming back to the strange duo over the last few months, an innate need to know that they are okay while also just wanting to be near them.

Taehyung had been resistant to you coming to them at first, wanting you to go and live your life while forgetting vampires exist. But it had taken you pointing out that your life had changed in ways you could have never considered before, and how could they expect you to go back now you knew this?

You felt a need to be near them, not only to make sure that they were okay but also for a strange sense of safety and comfort. The only thing you can think is that there is a part of your psyche that is saying if you are here, where Hoseok is, then you will be safe.

He’d backed off then, sighing deeply before acknowledging it with a heavy nod. Though he’d only agreed to let you stay if Hoseok was okay with it, and while the dhampir had grumbled and groaned intensely, his bark had proven far worse than any bite. Hoseok complained about your presence, but he’d never kicked you out. Nor had he even made any mention of it, which surprised you given how isolated he kept himself.

Taehyung had taken to teasing you about it, saying that Hoseok liked you and liked the female presence in his home. You often rolled your eyes at his childishness, but part of you grew warm when he said it and hoped it was true. Maybe it was just falling for someone who saved you, or maybe it’s because he was not only handsome and strong, but kind beneath his gruff exterior.

In order to make yourself useful, you made sure to clean their spaces so that they could focus on other things. Hoseok was usually out all night, while he spent his days either exercising, practicing or occasionally sleeping.

Apparently, he needed very little sleep in order to function. Which was just plain rude in your opinion.

Taehyung spent his time working on the vehicles, cleaning the guns or trying to create new weapons that could be used. He also had two cars that were hidden by one of the shelving units, both in various states of repair. Apparently he liked to buy old muscle cars and fix them up before selling them on for a profit.

It actually made you wonder what they did for money, as they evidently were not lacking it with the large space and all the gear and gadgets they had.

The younger man had also begun to show you how to fix things, starting with really small stuff and being way too enthusiastic when you actually did something. It made you feel like a child with the way he yelled out and clapped, looking way younger than his 29 years.

But today, you’d both taken a break to crack out the Mario Kart on Taehyung’s Switch. Apparently he preferred to both play and watch stuff on Hoseok’s television as it was bigger, and the sound system was much better too.

It was both fun and comforting, finding friendship after such a terrifying event and you enjoyed spending time with Taehyung, and Hoseok, in your free time. Definitely beat sitting in your tiny apartment on your own trying to do your homework. Though Taehyung was very diligent about making sure you completed that even while here, letting you borrow his state of the art laptop to do your work.

As fun as it was to play with him though, this was the first time you’d ever seen Hoseok injured and a surprising amount of worry was roiling in your stomach, making you feel slightly sick. He watches you intently as you move closer to him, your bare feet padding on the warm wooden floor until you’re standing before him.

Hoseok is taller than you anyway, and the extra inches his boots give him make him tower above you. Pushing up onto your very tip-toes, you take hold of his strong chin firmly and move his head from left to right to get a closer look at him.

A surprised sound leaves his lips which part slightly, eyes widening in shock at your movements and you sigh in exasperation as you peer closer.

“You got hurt! I’ve never seen you hurt before.” You whisper, running a thumb gently over his bruised cheek before moving it over the softness of his ruined lower lip. He lets out a low hiss as you touch the cut but he only gives a half hearted jerk of his head in protest.

“It’s fine, it happens occasionally. I heal fast, I just need to rest.” You can feel his warm breath kiss your fingertips and it makes you shiver slightly, the hairs on your arms standing on end. Part of you can tell that he’s noticed, taking in the way his pupils blow out slightly.

Shaking your head, you stand back and look him over. “Not good enough, where��s your medical stuff?” You ask him, only to get pressed lips in response. Sighing in exasperation, you turn to look at Taehyung who stands slowly and holds his hands up.

“It’s in the third cupboard up top. And on that note, I’m going to go. Have fun.” He grins his sweet box smile before brushing past you both, ignoring the way Hoseok growls after him and leaving through the side door of the warehouse. His trailer is parked behind the building, and you wonder for a moment why he decided to completely abandon you both.

Shaking your head, you move over to the kitchen and open the cupboard he’d specified. Hoseok follows slowly and it’s only because you’re paying close attention to him that you see the way he winces and holds his chest stiffly when he reaches into the fridge for a bottle.

“Hoseok! You’re not fine! Jesus, how hard did you get hit to hurt yourself even under your protector?” You exclaim, grabbing the medical kit and tugging him into his bedroom. He lets out a deep sigh before letting you drag him in, kicking off his boots at the entrance before sitting on the large bed with an overly exaggerated groan.

“I’ll be fine, I swear. It’s nothing.” He says, the tone of his voice almost whining and you stare at him in bemusement for a moment.

“You’ve never had a woman care for you before have you?” You would have no doubt that his father and Taehyung had cared for him in the past, but his attitude and the slight pink on his cheeks tells you that he’s not used to the persistent nature of what would normally be a mother or a girlfriend.

The deeper tinge of red on his cheeks lets you know that you’re right, even if he doesn’t respond for a moment. When he finally does, it’s your own cheeks that heat in embarrassment and chastisement at yourself.

“No, I haven’t. The only women I’ve ever even interacted with have been the women I either sleep with or the vampire women I hunt. No mother remember? And definitely no girlfriend.” He doesn’t say anything more and you pause, sitting next to him slowly as you open the kit and find the disinfectant.

Tipping a small amount out onto the cotton bud, you turn his head towards you and press it to the cut on his lip gently. He lets out a low breath that hisses through his teeth, wincing ever so slightly at the sting.

It’s only when you glance up that you realise how close you are to him and for a moment you freeze, fingers pressing the bud to his ripped lip. He stays quiet as well, eyes focusing on you with such intent that you feel almost suffocated and warm.

It’s truly unfair that he’s this beautiful, and you don’t even realise that your thumb is stroking the smooth skin of his cheek until he coughs almost awkwardly. Looking away, you place the bud onto the bed before taking another one and cleaning his face up a little more.

“You know...I know that Taehyung’s family got killed by vampires but...he’s never mentioned why you let him stay with you.” It’s something you’d been curious about for a while now, particularly as Hoseok isn’t exactly the most outgoing person whereas Taehyung is evidently the opposite. “I think he thinks of you as a big brother.”

Hoseok’s silent for a moment before he nods slowly. “I heard of a planned vampire attack in that area and went to try and stop it. I was only 20 at the time and...inexperienced still. I was too late for his family but...I saved him. He kind of latched on...a little like you. And like you...I couldn’t find it in me to brush him off. He was only fifteen and he’d lost everything, a year younger than me when I lost everything. Only he didn’t know this world existed. So I took him in and he’s never let go since.”

Despite the slight exasperation to his voice, you can hear the thread of fondness that twines its way through him and you can’t help but smile. Tapping at his protector, you gesture for him to take it off and ignore the scandalised look he gives you.

“Come on, take it off. I want to check, even if you’re going to be grumpy about it.” He glares for a moment before once more proving that despite being half vampire, he’s got no bite as he unstraps himself. He’d taken his guns off in the kitchen, so you watch as he throws the protector across the room before tugging his shirt off.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his exposed chest, breath fluttering in your lungs as you take in the sight of him. The closest you’d seen to this was when he wore sleeveless shirts, and you find yourself more attracted to him than ever.

Tanned skin covers toned muscle, the planes of his chest smooth while his abdominal muscles move enticingly with each slow breath. You don’t do anything for a moment, your fingers aching to touch him, until he looks at you with a dark brow raised and you snap back into yourself.

His lower left ribs are already black and purple, signifying that he probably has some internal damage going on. Frowning, you gently press on one of his ribs and flinch at the feral growl that erupts from him in response before he’s murmuring gently.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be okay. Just...bandage it, it’s the only thing you can do.” He mutters, looking back down at his hands. Nodding even though he can’t see, you take out the large bandage and shuffle behind him, swallowing as you carefully bandage him up in the exact way he tells you. It’s hard to ignore the fact your fingers are running along his velvet soft skin, but you tell yourself you have to.

“How do you get money for this place? I mean...I know Taehyung fixes up cars but that’s not quick. And he’s pretty specialised with his engineering and computer stuff, but vampire hunting can’t bring in money.” You ask, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Hoseok lets out a choked breath as you tighten the bandage before breathing out slowly. “Tae knew how to do some mechanic stuff before I found him, but he studied it more from me. I learnt how to fix cars and all that shit when my dad died. I needed jobs fast, and there’s always work for mechanics. Given I didn’t need to sleep much, I’d work in garages in the day and as a bouncer at bars at night.”

Snorting, you imagine Hoseok working as a bouncer at a bar. You don’t even need to ask to know that he did a good job.

“Taehyung may not look or act it, but he actually has a master’s degree in computer engineering. Fixing cars is a hobby of his that I indulged him in, but his main shit is computers. He builds them for people and charges crazy amounts, he builds websites, does a bit of coding for games and stuff on the side. To him it’s not work, it’s just relaxing. And he takes on a few...possibly not endorsed by the police work too. Though don’t tell anyone that.” He looks behind then, giving you a stern look that you presume is meant to keep your silence.

Chuckling, you nod your head as you finish bandaging him up before moving back to his side. Watching as he checks over the bandage, you tilt your head and ask another question, unwilling to let the conversation end.

While he’s always been willing to talk to you, he’s never been quite so willing to share.

“How did he afford college? And a master’s? I’m only 2 years into a degree online and it’s taken me forever to be able to afford this. Not that I can really afford it. Maybe I should take you up on living here.” Hoseok looks at you with amused quirk of his brow.

“Is this like the shitty version of Professor Xavier’s school or something? Taking in wayward strays?” Staring at him for a moment, you can’t help the laugh of actual happiness that leaves you. Sometimes you feel Hoseok is older than his 34 years, so it’s surprising to hear him make pop culture references sometimes.

“What? No. You wish. You’d never be as hot as Patrick Stewart,” A snort of disbelief comes from your side and you nudge his arm lightly. “Seriously though. How did he afford it? If you raised him, then I doubt he was able to afford it normally.”

Hoseok goes quiet for a moment and looks down at his hands before his shoulders lift and fall in a deep exhale. “I paid for it. It’s not something that was an option for me, but I wanted it to be an option for him. Bloodsuckers fucked my life up from the moment I was born, but he still had a life. I tried to encourage him to leave, but he won’t leave me behind. So I wanted to make sure he got educated as well as he could be, and as much as he wanted. I don’t have any blood family left in the world, but I have Taehyung. I don’t do emotions very well but...he’s my little brother. And if he’s being stuck with me, then I want to make sure he’s happy.”

You have to bite your lip hard to stop tears from welling at his quiet admission, the sheer love and emotion in every word so evident of how much Hoseok truly cares for the bubbly Taehyung. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Hoseok is closed off to the world, but given his life story you understand. So it makes you happy that he has Taehyung at least.

“I think he knows. Your grumbling is just your way of affection. That’s what he’s told me many times. So if that’s the truth then you’re evidently in love with me.” Your words are light and airy, just a hint of teasing in them that makes his chuff out a laugh as he shakes his head.

“Totally ruining my badass vampire hunter status, you know that?” He looks over at you with a sardonic look, causing you to grin. Without even thinking, you lean over and press a featherlight kiss to his bruised cheek.

The moment your lips touch his skin, you freeze as your action suddenly filters through into your brain and alarm bells begin screaming. Hoseok freezes as well, his body stilling until you’re not even sure he’s breathing.

Moving away slightly, you don’t realise he’s moving his head until suddenly your noses bump against each other. His breath is hot against your mouth, and it’s like the heat spreads in a direct arrow to your core, lighting up your body.

His eyes aren’t looking at you, but are focused on your lips as his breathing stutters slightly. The wetting of his lips with his tongue causes him to brush against your own, and you can’t help the way you softly press your mouth to his, carefully avoiding the cut on his lip.

Hoseok’s lips are petal soft and surprisingly cool, unresponsive at first before he hesitantly moves them against your own almost as if he’s unsure of himself. You know that he’s done this before though, as not only did he admit it earlier but Taehyung has told you that he usually has his trysts away from the warehouse.

And yet for someone who’s so bold and brash while fighting, strong and foreboding when dressed up for a hunt and with an aura of something dark lying underneath his mellow exterior, when he finally kisses you properly it’s with a tenderness you never expected.

His mouth tilts a little to find the perfect position to slot against your lips and you open your own without question when his warm tongue slowly trails along the seam. He’s not particularly dominant at the moment, content with carefully exploring your mouth with a curious tongue that dances with your own slowly and just a little eagerly.

You might even think that perhaps Hoseok isn’t interested in any kind of power play during intimate moments like this, or maybe even he’s a little submissive until your tongue nicks against one his sharper incisors.

The pain is fleeting, so miniscule that you barely notice it and it’s only because his fangs aren’t nearly as sharp as a vampires that he didn’t cut you any deeper. But his response is immediate and strong, his hands gripping tightly at your thighs as a deep growl rumbles from his chest, up his throat and into his mouth.

His kiss becomes deeper and more intense, mouth almost fighting with yours even though you’re offering no resistance and he runs his tongue along the area he’d nicked constantly. You don’t even recognise what he’s doing, far too caught up in the passionate kiss until suddenly he pulls away from you like you’d electrocuted him.

Sitting at the end of the bed and staring down at his hands which now rest on his thighs, you watch with big eyes as his chest heaves for breaths and his brow creases into a frown. Reaching forward slowly, you’re surprised when he gives a low snarl and snaps at you, the click of his teeth audible.

“Leave. Please.” His voice is strained and he looks away, chiseled jaw clenching until the delightful tendons in his neck are all you can see. Hoseok’s hands clench tightly against his sides and your eyes drop down to the cut on his thigh.

“I still need to treat your thigh.” You whisper in confusion, frowning yourself at his reaction. Hoseok shakes his head furiously and points at the door.

“Please just go. It’ll heal on its own, I swear. Please.” Hoseok has never begged for anything so far, and you have a suspicion that extends to his general life as well. Something about that kiss had evidently triggered him, and part of you wonders if he’s angry at kissing you.

It’s only when you run your tongue along your teeth that you feel the sore spot that makes you wince slightly and you realise, the lightbulb going off in your head. Oh.

Nodding, you get up from the bed and head over to the door, turning around and looking over him carefully. It’s the most emotional you’ve ever seen Hoseok, and you wonder momentarily why he’s had such a visceral reaction to tasting your blood. Surely it’s only natural for a half-vampire to find it tastes good or something?

“It’s okay Hoseok. Really. Please don’t beat yourself up. I wanted that kiss as much as you did, and you did nothing wrong.” You leave before he can respond, heading out to find Taehyung and letting Hoseok calm down.

It’s perhaps unsurprising that the atmosphere between Hoseok and you is a little more tense in the following weeks. He’s still perfectly polite to you, but there’s a barrier to his mannerisms that tells you he’s holding you at arm’s length.

Taehyung notices it almost immediately, but he chooses to remain polite and not intrude into the personal lives of you both. Instead, he opts to make subtle comments that have you rolling your eyes as he may as well just bluntly say what he thinks.

Three weeks after the ill-fated kiss between you both, Taehyung evidently has enough of watching the powerful and proud vampire hunter tip toe meekly around you. From underneath the old Camaro he’s bought to fix up, he decides that now is the perfect time to bring up the awkward half-undead elephant in the room.

“So what happened between you and Hoseok? And don’t tell me nothing. I’ve never seen that man look as awkward as he does around you. I’m pretty sure I even saw him blush last week for fuck sake.” His voice is muffled by the car, but that does nothing to stop his words reaching your ears and causing your own body to heat.

“Are you really sure you’d should be butting into his private life?” You ask quietly, crouching down next to the car and resting a palm against the cool door.

Taehyung rolls out for a moment, chest even broader looking in the plain white shirt he’s wearing that’s currently stained in grease. Giving you a raised brow in response, he reaches for the tool he needs before rolling back underneath.

“He’s been butting into my private life for the last fourteen years so yeah, I do. Also...you’re the first person he’s ever let in here and the closest he’s ever gotten to a friend who wasn’t me. I know he’s a little rough around the edges, okay a lot rough, and he’s very gruff and...okay, you know what? He’s not really great boyfriend material for most people, but you get him. I just…” He rolls back out and lets his head flop back, sighing deeply.

“Hoseok tried really hard for me, to try and make sure I have a life as normal as it could possibly get when living with a dhampir vampire hunter. And he’s always refused to let himself live at least part of a normal life, like he feels he needs to be punished or something. I...is it dumb to just want him to be happy too? Maybe I’m getting too far ahead of myself here, but I want him to have a reason to come home every night that isn’t an obligation to me.” You watch him quietly before pressing a hand to his abdomen playfully.

“No, it makes sense. I get what you mean. Even I’ve got the feeling that Hoseok is only driven by anger and revenge sometimes. But he does care for you too. And...we kissed. He freaked out though when his fang caught my tongue and cut it a little.” Taehyung says nothing for a moment before nodding slowly, jaw locking before his dusky brown eyes focus on yours.

“I don’t think he’s ever actually bitten anyone before, or at least he’s never told me he has. He’s super against it,” There’s a moment of quiet before his lip quirks. “He’s resting in his bedroom right now.” He says, face carefully turning neutral and you squint at him before poking at the softness of his cheek.

“Are you trying to get me in bed with him? Even after what I just told you?” You tease lightly, causing him to snort loudly before rolling his eyes and disappearing back under the car.

“Yes, duh. He’s not slept with anyone since you started showing up and he’s turning even moodier than normal. You’re attracted to him, he’s attracted to you and he needs to just get fucked frankly. So please, do me a solid and blow his mind.” You gawp at him even though he can’t see, body going warm with dual embarrassment and lust at the thought of having Hoseok how you’d fantasised for a long time now.

Pushing at his hip, the closest bit of him you can reach, you tut loudly before standing. “You’re ridiculous. I am not sleeping with him.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond except for a muffled chuckle, leaving you to abandon the mechanic underneath the car while you head over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for you both. It’s only when you close the door that you hear light thuds and heavy breathing coming from the door you’d never had reason to go behind in the kitchen, causing you to tilt your head as you look at it.

Placing the bottles down, you move over and turn the handle slowly before opening the door. Inside is a large room, with a floor you recognise from martial arts studios while racks of various weight lifting instruments line one wall.

In the centre though, is Hoseok and you watch in fascination as he moves fluidly and swiftly across the space. Each movement is calculated and the supple muscles of his arms bunch and contract with ease as he flows through whatever routine he has in his mind.

The glint of his sword’s blade as it swings through the air is almost mesmerising, his movements so fast that it whistles as it slices through dead air. His weight shifts between his feet within seconds, always allowing him to remain balanced and ready for anything before he shifts and swings around on one foot, leg kicking high in the air as he whips his body around before his sword follows in what would be a brutal and devastating dual attack if he was in a fight.

Coming to a pause slowly, there’s no further sound other than his heavy breathing and you slowly begin to edge out of the room. Pointless, because of course he was aware of your presence.

“Enjoy the show?” Hoseok asks, kneeling down on the floor to carefully sheathe his sword before he runs through a few stretches to cool himself down. It should be considered cruel that you have to watch him as he contorts his body into effortless positions, stretching out his muscles and making your throat dry.

“Taehyung said you were resting. This isn’t resting.” Is all you respond with, hoping it covers up for anything you may possibly be thinking about him. He says nothing for a few moments before letting out a quiet laugh and nodding his head, standing up and heading over to you.

The dark grey workout pants and tight shirt do nothing to hide his body, and despite your words to Taehyung you find yourself hoping that something will happen. Because it’s really not fair that he looks this good around you.

“This is my version of resting,” He moves past you out into the kitchen, placing his sword carefully on the island counter before reaching into the fridge to grab a bottle of water. You’re not as surprised anymore that he does actually consume normal food and drink, but it does nothing to stop your libido as he takes a healthy swig and a trickle of water escapes the seal of his lips, slowly trailing down his glistening neck.

Lips pursing as you lean against the cool fridge, you run your eyes along him once more. He simply stands there and watches you in turn, his brow cocking in a way that just makes you want to bite along that exquisite jawline of his.

“I usually just go in the bath. Or binge watch Netflix on the couch.” He says nothing for a moment before his breath puffs out of him in a laugh, shoulders rising while his lips turn up in a reluctant smile.

Nodding, he throws his empty bottle into the recycling bin before he’s heading over to his bedroom door, looking back at you with a slightly amused face. “I’ve noticed. I’m really glad our Netflix subscription is getting plenty of use with you.”

His sarcasm isn’t even remotely subtle and you gasp out, following him with an outraged expression without even realising what you’re doing. “Okay Mister Broody, but you evidently have no issue with this as I came over once to find my own account set up on it. Princess Bella ring any bells?”

It’s only when you realise that he’s in the process of stripping off his shirt that it registers in your mind that you’ve followed him into his bedroom. A place you’ve only ever been twice, with his explicit permission. The ripple of muscles in his abdomen has a corresponding clench of your own inner muscles, breath suddenly a little short as he throws the shirt with his other washing.

“You can thank Taehyung for that. If I was going to give you a nickname, it certainly wouldn’t be that airhead from Twilight.” Your lust filled reverie is broken at his words and you frown in response, a shocked laugh leaving you as you inadvertently move closer to him.

“Was that...you know the main characters name from Twilight? You’ve seen Twilight? Seriously? You know...you’d make a good Edward.” He pauses for a moment with wide eyes before shifting until his back faces you, coughing lightly.

“Wow, why not just insult me some more? Do I look like I sparkle to you or something?” Hoseok looks back at you with an expectant face and you snort, pressing your hand to your mouth while your other is pressed to your stomach.

Shrugging lightly, you can’t stop the amused expression on your face at his outrage. “I dunno...you’ve got the whole ‘oh woe is me and my life’ thing down pretty well so…” Your words trail off and he snarls noiselessly, eyes narrowing before he moves closer to you.

The way he moves reminds you of when you saw him walking down the alley towards you; self assured, primal and completely in control of himself. You quiver slightly in response, wondering what it says about you that you find the touch of danger more than arousing.

Moving into your personal space, you try hard to keep your eyes trained on him as his lips quirk up slightly. “If you’re seriously comparing me to that repressed virgin, then maybe I should kick you out.”

Hoseok pauses when he’s only inches from your face, eyes flickering down to your lips before darting back to your own eyes quickly. Inhaling deeply, you fist your hands for a moment to gain the courage before pushing up onto your toes to press a quick and chaste kiss to his lips.

It’s fast, and you’re back down on your feet, not giving him the chance to even respond. Blinking a few times, he simply stares at you for a moment before moving forward until your back is pressed to the wall and he’s leaning closer

“God, I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this.” He whispers, frustration and conflict whipping through him as his body stiffens. Raising a shaking hand, you press it to his chest firmly, feeling his heart beating strongly underneath it.

“Hoseok...I want this. Please...please.” Your voice is light, and you’re positive his sensitive hearing makes it sound even louder than the hushed words you can hear. Hoseok fights for a moment, conflicted emotions crossing over his face before he finally growls out a curse before dipping his head and catching your lips in a fierce kiss.

Gasping out at the sheer force of lips on you, he takes advantage and slides his tongue into your mouth while one hand moves up to cup your head, keeping you at the perfect angle for his oral assault. His other moves down your body, the warm digits almost blazing against your sensitive skin until they reach your ass, squeezing the fleshy muscle hard over your patterned leggings.

Moaning low in his throat, you feel the vibrations through his chest as he pushes against you hard until you feel like he’s trying to force you through the wall itself. Tiny whimpers leave your own mouth into his as he licks into you, as if he’s trying to memorise every part of you while he can and your hands press at his chest, fingers clawing against his warm skin.

He pulls away suddenly, and you whine low at the loss of him against you while another part of you shudders in fear that maybe he’s rejecting you again. But one glance at him tells you that you’re wrong, and the darkened lust in his eyes makes your core clench tightly with reciprocated need.

“Are you sure? One hundred percent positive about this?” Hoseok asks, keeping you far enough away from him to ensure that your response is legitimate. Nodding quickly, you reach for him and grasp the waistband of his sweats and tug until his groin is pressed against yours.

The hardness hidden underneath is unbelievably arousing as it presses against your stomach and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down back into a furious and messy kiss. He resists for a moment before his entire body suddenly relaxes, a frustrated groan leaving his mouth as he bends slightly before lifting you up.

Wrapping your arms around his waist instinctively, you both moan out at the friction caused when his erection rubs against your heated core and you roll your hips once more to simulate it again. Hoseok breaks the seal of your kiss to let his head fall back on his shoulders, revealing that delicious expanse of throat to you that you’d admired in the alley long ago.

Not even wasting a moment, you take advantage and latch onto the velvety skin there, sucking a bruise into the unblemished canvas there before lazily moving your tongue along the tendon that strains at your movements. His hands on your thighs grip even tighter until it’s almost painful, your quiet whimper and wince causing him to relax.

Turning, he moves over to the bed quickly and deposits you on it before crawling on top of you and pressing open mouthed kisses to your jaw and neck. They’re wet and loud, creating a messy picture of lust on your skin and all you can do is grip his hair tightly while your hips undulate to try and find the missing pressure of his hard on.

His touch gets more sensual against you slowly, his mouth pressing against you for longer and the suctioning pressure of his kisses even stronger as his hands run along your waist and stomach in long, slow strokes that send blazing hot bolts of pleasure to your pussy. Whimpering quietly, you press his mouth to you even harder while your other hand tries to press at the small of his back, pushing at the hot skin there to try and get his hips to meet yours.

You don’t even realise that something’s not right with the way he begins to lavish attention on a certain part of your throat, pulse pounding loudly in your ears as you gasp and mumble random encouragements to him. His mouth is pressing firmly to the muscle of your neck and it’s only when you feel the blunt pressure of his teeth as they press against the paper thin skin there that you realise.

Pushing slightly at his chest, he suddenly breaks away and forces himself into a kneeling position. Hoseok’s face is a pattern of confliction, lust mixing with unhidden desire and you’re not entirely sure if it’s for what’s between your legs or what’s running through the artery on your neck.

Looking closely at him, you note the way his deep brown eyes have taken on the slightest red tinge and you realise how closely he likely has come to losing control. Reaching for his hands, you take them and grip them tightly in reassurance before laying them on your stomach, pushing your shirt over your head and slipping your bra off as you do so.

The revelation of your breasts distracts him for a moment and he groans out loud, brows creasing as his hands wander along the skin of your stomach before he’s cupping them almost reverently. Your breath leaves you on a low moan as his fingers run along the sensitive skin before he rolls the buds of your nipples between his thumbs and fingers slowly.

“You can bite me...if you want. I won’t say no to you.” He looks at you with horror when you say that, hands pausing on your chest as his brow creases. Shaking his head, he lets one hand run along the curve of your waist before letting it rest on your thigh.

“Don’t say that. You don’t want that. I saved you from that, you shouldn’t want that. And I don’t want it. That’s...that’s what bloodsuckers do.” He spits the words out and you watch as his jaw clenches, teeth bared and allowing you to see the baby vampire teeth he has.

Pushing up onto your elbows, you reach out and run your fingers along his toned stomach and watch as the muscles jerk at your touch. “I don’t want you to kill me, but I trust you. I don’t think you would. And you need it right? Some humans are into that kind of stuff and maybe I’d like it?”

He hisses at that, the sound inhuman and causing a shiver to run up your spine. You really shouldn’t find it as attractive as you do, yet your thighs tighten around his waist without you even meaning to.

Hoseok doesn’t notice though, and instead leans forward to tap at your neck. “This right here? This is an artery. If I bite that, then you die. It’s not romantic like all the stupid vampires in pop culture. Imagine a hose filled with water and then cutting it with a knife. That water sprays everywhere. That’s what happens when you cut an artery and then you’re dead in minutes. It’s the vampires choice of meal as it’s quick and fast. Quick because their victim bleeds out and fast because they don’t have to put much effort in to get a full course meal. It’s not sexy, it’s just painful.”

Watching him with wide eyes, you sit up until your noses are almost pressed together. Hoseok lets out a deep sigh before letting his forehead rest against yours, hand falling from your breast to simply rest on your waist.

“Don’t you have like...healing properties or something? Or is that just another myth too?”

He huffs out a laugh against your lips, pressing a slow and lazy kiss to them before pulling away and watching you through half lidded eyes. “A little, but it’s not enough to heal an artery bite. And you don’t get as much blood from anywhere else.”

“How do you know you have that too?”

Closing his eyes, he lets out an almost deep purr as you run your fingers through his hair rhythmically. “My father. He had to figure out what I could and couldn’t do. When I was a baby, he mixed his own blood with my milk. When I was older, he’d made me bite his arm to see if I could heal it. It’s the only time I’ve ever bitten someone.”

“Your dad was a good man.” He nods for a moment, and you’d be worried that the moment was gone if it wasn’t for the fact his thumbs are rubbing sensual circles on your inner thighs, so close to your pussy that you’re physically aching for his touch. “And I don’t think you should beat yourself up for what you are, you can’t help that. If you want to bite me...somewhere else...then I’m okay with that. You might hate it and that’s fine, or you might love it and that’s equally fine. But I want this.”

Hoseok is silent and you worry that he’s going to reject you before he slowly trails his nose down your skin, pushing you back onto the bed before licking a blazing trail of desire down your neck and to your chest. Reaching your breasts, he caresses them with experienced fingers while his mouth sucks hot kisses into your flesh, grinning when you let out a cry as he tweaks your nipple between two fingers.

You’re positive that you’re just going to be a mess of passion induced bruises by the end when he suddenly pauses, his nose pressed to the swell of your breast before he flicks his eyes up to you. They’re hard and unyielding, making your inner muscles clench around nothing as you spot the dominance you’d suspected weeks ago rising up in him.

“Are you sure? If you say yes now, then I’m not going easy on you. That’s not my favourite sex, and I really want to show you the way I like it.” Swallowing, you shake with desire as his rasping words reach your ears while his eyes keep you hooked. Nodding slowly, a ridiculously beautiful grin spreads his handsome face, though there’s nothing warm or pleasant about it.

“Tell me a safeword. A word that you’re going to use if you can’t take it anymore. If you use it, then I’ll stop.” You can’t even stop the way your eyes widen, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out he can literally smell your arousal at this rate.

“Twilight.” The unexpected word breaks his character for a moment and he looks at you in shock before he’s pressing his lips together to try and stop his smile from spreading. Nodding his head, he lets out a deep laugh before sucking an almost painful kiss into your flesh.

His fingers move down your body to hook into the waistband of your leggings before he’s tugging harshly, a loud ripping noise reverberating around the quiet room and you still in shock. Looking down, you see that he’s literally ripped your leggings in half and simply throws them over his shoulders after he slips them off your legs. Your underwear follows soon and you send a silent thanks that he hadn’t decided to destroy that too.

“Hoseok, that wa-” Anything you’re going to say disappears when he runs his fingerpads along your drenched slit, dipping them inside until they circle your entrance before running them up to your engorged clit. Rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves, he slips back down to add more wetness, making the slide of his fingers even easier and more pleasurable as you let out a loud groan.

Hoseok keeps the pressure on your centre, the muscles in his arm flexing as he circles his hand in compact and controlled circles that has your breath shuddering out of your chest. Your hips circle of their own accord, unsure of whether to keep his attention where it is or trying to push him away to prevent the painful pleasure he’s causing.

Your eyes are clenched closed as he rubs at you incessantly, fingers slipping down until he slides two slowly inside you and begins to stroke at the bundle of nerves on your inner walls. It’s almost annoying how easily he’s able to find what pleasures you most, yet you bite at your hand to try and keep your soft gasps inside when he uses the heel of his palm to press at your clit, so every thrust of his hand rubs at you until you’re whining.

It’s why you don’t notice the way he stares hungrily at you, eyes focused on your heaving chest as you try hard to catch your breath in the midst of his pleasure. Nor do you notice when he leans down, until suddenly his tongue is laving hot and wet attention to the mound of your breast, the dual sensation as he sucks your nipple into his mouth causing you to almost shriek.

The only warning you get that he’s going to bite is the slight scratch of his fangs before you feel a sharp pain, the sensation making you jolt. Looking down, you automatically clench around Hoseok’s fingers even tighter as you take in the overwhelmingly erotic sight of him sucking on you, a deep and guttural groan leaving him while his hips suddenly rock into your thigh as he dry humps your leg in response to each harsh pull of his throat.

Hoseok’s eyes open suddenly and he looks up at you with dark lust, completely unhidden and you choke slightly as he detaches from you, letting you see the two neat little bite marks on you while he licks at his teeth slowly. They have a slight red stain that should be disturbing, but the way he shudders when he licks the taste away has you quivering underneath him.

“Good?” You ask, words quivering slightly as he lets out a long and deep exhale with closed eyes. Looking at you with those unbelievably dark eyes, he grins slightly before pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. You get the impression he doesn’t want you to taste yourself like that, but you chase his mouth until he’s kisses you deeply, tongue thrusting into you at the same pace his fingers move inside you.

Moving away slightly, he groans out and nods. “Yeah, holy shit yeah. But that’s not all I want to taste of you.” He murmurs against your jaw, pressing a kiss there before sliding down the bed until he’s facing your exposed pussy.

Twisting his fingers in you until you tighten around him, he wastes no time and dives in, letting his tongue swirl around your clit to coat the wet muscle in the taste of you before he runs it up you slowly, letting himself feel every inch of you in excruciating detail. The pleasure he causes as he does so has you whining out, fingers tugging at his hair and grasping with need as he sucks your clit into his mouth, a vacuum of pressure that he makes even better when he flicks at you with the tip of his tongue.

The man knows how to use his tongue, and he reminds that you he’s pretty damn good with his fingers too when he curls them up to press incessantly on the spot that makes you sob out in pleasure. “Oh god Hoseok, oh please. Hoseok please, I’m gonna come.”

You’re not even lying, as the elastic in your stomach has been stretching itself thin with each movement of his hand and the hot heat of his tongue on you only adds to it until you’re quivering under him, thighs tightening around his head until he has to push at one with his free hand to stop you from trying to suffocate him.

He detaches for a few seconds to simply look up at you with that dark gaze of dominance as he bares his teeth at you. “Then cum for me, princess.” The deep tone to his voice that brokers no arguments combines vividly with how he sucks on your clit so hard, fingers moving inside you so quickly that all you can hear is the lewd sounds of squelching wetness and you’re orgasming violently around him.

Ragged cries leave your mouth as you convulse around his fingers rhythmically and your body shudders, hands pulling even tighter at Hoseok’s hair until the vibrating rumble of his groan has you whimpering in overstimulation on your clit. He keeps going until you’re making soft cries before finally pulling away and giving you a salacious grin.

Removing his fingers slowly, he lifts them up and lets you see the slick wetness on them, separating them and grinning as it strings together. Keeping his eyes firmly on you, he slots them into his mouth and sucks your flavour clean off him before reaching forward, running them along your lips until you open for him.

Immediately he’s sliding his fingers inside the wet heat of your mouth, letting them run along your tongue until all you can taste is both yourself and him as he grins darkly. “You taste good princess, but I hope you’re ready for the next course.”

Snorting, you want to tell him how cheesy he sounds only you end up yelping when he suddenly lifts you with a strength that’s far beyond a human. With consumate ease, he’s flipped you over and is rubbing soothing circles into your ass as you kneel there for him, dripping pussy facing him as you already clench around nothing in excitement for his cock.

Looking behind you lazily, you note the way he tugs his sweatpants and underwear off, letting his hard on bob in the air as he moves to the drawer next to the bed. Reaching out, you grasp the hot skin that sheathes his steel erection and stroke him slowly, enjoying the way he shudders in response and lets out a soft gasp as you run your thumb over his slit.

Pushing your hand away slowly, he also picks something up from the floor before he’s crawling back onto the bed, kneeling behind you. A rip of foil has your brows raising and you look behind, surprised to see him rolling a condom on. He takes in the sight with an amused smirk before slapping the skin of your ass harshly, the skin smarting from the touch as he rubs at it soothingly.

“I’m only half undead. Still alive enough to be fertile and I’m not particularly interested in kids right now. Even if I think this pussy might be worth it.” Your mouth opens in a little ‘ah’ as you nod in acknowledgement, wiggling your hips in desperate need to feel his thick length inside you.

“Give me your wrist,” You frown but do so, feeling his strong hand hold it firmly before he’s reaching for your other wrist as well. Something is tying them together until your cheek is resting firmly against the pillow and he’s running his hand along your back soothingly. “You can breathe right? If you get uncomfortable, tell me.”

Wow, okay, you didn’t expect to be tied up with him already but the lack of free movement has you clenching around nothing while a soft moan leaves your mouth with need. Rocking your hips back, your moan is louder when you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance slowly, letting it slide between your legs as he dry fucks you with just enough pressure to make your clit tingle with desire and pleasure already.

“You’re being a good girl for me princess.” He coos to you, bending over until he’s kissing at your shoulder. Shivering, you let out a moan as you press your face further into the pillow as your fingers try to grasp at anything, only succeeding in brushing against his stomach.

As he sucks a bruising kiss into your skin, he also breeches you slowly as the bulbous head of his cock slides into you. Groaning out loud, you try hard to push back on him as he slips into you, moving slowly and surely until he’s bottomed out in you, balls resting against your soaked clit.

“Oh god Hoseok.” You whisper, squeezing around his solid intrusion and enjoying the way he twitches in response while his hips flex, pressing him even further into you. A grunt leaves his mouth as he pushes up, hand hooking onto the restraints at your wrists and tugging you slightly up as you breath heavily.

“This is a very pretty pussy you have princess, I think I’m going to enjoy ruining it.” Hoseok hisses into your ear, teeth scraping against the outer shell as he pulls out slowly before thrusting back into you harsh enough that the sound of skin slapping against skin joins the wet squelch of your pussy as his cock moves in you.

The only thing you can do is moan low, almost rasping as he begins to set up in a rhythm that has you being pushed into the bed further with each thrust, his hips pistoning sharply into your ass to have you gasping. A grunt from him lets you know that he’s enjoying it just as much and you clench around him, crying out at the increased pleasure from every movement.

His slap is just as hard as before and you can feel your ass jiggle and smart as he spanks you in repercussion, the slight pain dissolving into pleasure and causing you to do it again. Each spank has you choking out a moan as your hips rotate to encourage him further, and you know that you’re being a little bit of a brat as he hisses at you and grips your hips tighter than ever.

The hand on your restraints tugs suddenly and you fly backwards, hitting his chest as he snarls into your ear and mouths along the exposed skin of your neck. “Someone needs to learn some manners.” He hisses into you, biting down gently on your shoulder with just enough force to make you shiver but not enough to break the skin.

Your own head falls back against him as your hips gyrate against him, his thrusts deeper than before and hitting your g-spot with absolute ease as he fucks up into you. A rasping moan leaves you as he arches your back almost uncomfortably before he brings his free hand up to wrap around your throat.

His fingers dance around the skin there, featherlight before he grips a little tighter and you can feel your air cutting off slightly. Part of you would be worried, but it bizarrely increases the amount of pleasure you receive as you clench around him tighter than before, an almost vice like grip on the intoxicating length inside you.

“Be a good princess for me.” He groans out, licking at the sweat that’s lining your shoulder before squeezing a little tighter on your throat. It’s only because of the months of trust you’ve built with him, even if it may not look like much to others, that you still feel safe and secure in his arms.

When you’re bucking against him and letting out tiny noises of need, he lets go of your throat to slide it down the front of your body slowly, palm flat and heated against your stomach before he finally reaches your clit and enticingly rubs at it.

His arm holding your restraints leaves you to wrap around your waist, keeping you anchored to him as he fucks into you, fingers working hard in a double momentum that has pleasure shorting out your mind. Sobbing out, you beg him for a release until he laughs against your skin, breath dancing against you as he sucks a kiss into your neck.

“Cum for me princess, let me hear how loud you can get.” He murmurs into your ear once more, nose pressing into you while he increases his pace. At this rate, the only sounds in the room are the slick wet noises coming from your pussy as his cocks rams into you, the incessant slapping of skin and the dual moans and pants from you both.

You swear he’s not moving at a human pace right now, his hips hitting yours so hard that the only reason you’re still speared on him is because of the arm around your waist while you mewl out as his fingers work you harder and faster than you’ve ever been able to.

It all becomes too much quickly and you explode around him, head slamming back onto his shoulder as you cry out loudly, the sounds ragged and broken as your body tries to convulse hard enough to push him away and out of you. He holds on tightly throughout, hips ramming forward to sheathe himself in you even when it feels like your pussy is trying to push him out.

The crackling electricity that sizzles through your body as the orgasm floods your system has your breath shuddering when you come back to your senses, blinking blearily as he uses your tired body. Each thrust causes a burst of sensation to generate from your inner walls and you let out a tired cry as he chases his own high.

“Fuck, fuck princess. You’re so fucking tight now.” He pants out into your neck, forehead pressed against you as his hips work even faster to get himself there. The smooth rhythm he’d generated earlier is vanishing quickly as he begins to become sloppy and jerky before he presses into you hard with a deep, guttural groan.

The angle you’re at has you feeling the way he twitches inside you with each convulsion of his own orgasm, his hips making the tiniest of jerks to provide him the friction he needs to finish completely.

Now the room is only filled with the heavy breathing from you both, his own hot against your back as he holds you against him for a few moments longer. Already you can feel him softening inside you before he’s slipping out of you and shuffling backwards.

His hands untie the restraints at your wrists before they’re rubbing at them soothingly, trying to get rid of any possible pain you may be having. They move up your arms slowly before he massages your shoulders, pressing a single kiss to the middle of your back before he gently pushes you to the bed.

You slump down happily, watching lazily as he stands and heads into the bathroom. When he comes back, he cleans you up almost gently before checking you over to make sure he hasn’t hurt you too much. He seems almost hesitant and shy, avoiding your gaze as he runs a hand over the heated skin of your spanked ass before he’s rolling you over slightly, running his fingertips along the already healing bite marks.

“I didn’t hurt you right? Did I hurt you?” He asks, brow creasing in worry as he looks at you with an indecipherable expression. Right now, this Hoseok looks nothing like the badass Hoseok that had saved your life months ago. And yet as attractive as you’d found him then, you think he’s even more beautiful right now.

Cupping his face, you pull him closer for a tired kiss before smiling at him. “I’m fine. Honest. Tired, because that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. But I’m good. Did you enjoy it?” He nods silently, gaze so direct it’s like he’s trying to look through you. “It didn’t scare me, so if you want to do it again...I won’t say no. It doesn’t make you a monster.”

He frowns at that, tugging on his underwear before laying out next to you on the impossibly soft bed. “Bold of you to think you’re going to get a round two.”

“Bold of you to think you’re not going to want a round two.”

Hoseok can’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head slightly as his sweat soaked hair falls into his forehead. You push it out of the way slowly and smile at him as he closes his eyes in bliss, noting this is possibly the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him.

Sure enough, as if he can hear your thoughts, the space between his brows creases as he lets out a deep sigh that lets you hear so many emotions he isn’t letting out.

“I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have even done this. You’re Taehyung’s friend and you’re practically living here. This...wasn’t fair to you.” Scowling, you poke at his cheek until he’s glaring at you.

“If your intention is to ruin my self confidence, then please keep going. Also, I’m your friend too. Hopefully something more if this whole thing didn’t indicate my interest.” Hoseok is quiet for a moment before his eyes close.

“Sorry, that’s not what I mean. You were great, really great. But I...I don’t deserve this. Whatever it is...whatever it might be.”

“Why not? Who said you don’t deserve to be, oh I don’t know, happy? Taehyung wants you happy. He practically pushed me in here. And I don’t know you as well as he does, but I want you happy too.” Your words are sincere as your thumb strokes his cheek reassuringly.

“I’m half bloodsucker. I’m the reason my mom died. Why my dad died. Half of me is the reason families have been torn apart for centuries, their losses blamed on accidents or whatever. Half of me killed Taehyung’s family, and almost killed you. I don’t deserve to be happy when there’s people out there suffering because of vampires. Not when I can stop them.” His words are strained and quiet yet you can practically feel the loathing he has for himself.

Shaking your head, you lean forward to pull him closer to you until his head is resting against your chest. There’s nothing sexual about it now though, and your hands stroke along his back soothingly.

“I wish you’d shut up, in the nicest way possible. Yes, you’re half vampire. But you didn’t choose that. It was forced on you. The vampires killed your mom. Not you. The vampires killed your dad because he chose to keep you and raise you, not you. The vampires killed Taehyung’s family, not you. You are not like them. You are like Jung Hoseok, and there’s only one of you in the world.” He goes to protest but you hush him immediately.

“Just think okay. If you hadn’t been born, if you hadn’t been here, then Taehyung would have died when his family was attacked. He would’ve never gone to college, he would’ve never become as happy as he is. If you hadn’t been here, then I would have died because there would have been no one to save me. Think of all the people you’ve probably saved, both in the past, now and in the future. Saying that you don’t deserve to be happy means that your mom and dad’s deaths were for nothing. They conceived you with every intention to love you and raise you. I don’t know them obviously, but I think they’d be heartbroken to see how much you’ve closed yourself off.”

Hoseok is silent, and you wonder if maybe he’s fallen asleep in the middle of your emotional speech to him but instead he suddenly wraps his arms around you tightly. Pressing his face into your chest even further, you don’t say anything when you feel something wet against your skin.

Running your fingers through his hair slowly, you press a kiss to the soft strands and smile. “I’m not expecting you to suddenly become great at intimacy or relationships. I’m not even expecting dates from you. I’ll go at your pace but...I just want you to be happy please. That’s all Taehyung and I want. Killing vampires can only bring you so much in life, and if that’s all you care about then you don’t care about your life. We just want you to live and not just exist.”

He stays quiet for a few minutes, the only sign he’s even still with you is the slow rising and falling of his chest. “I guess. Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll...see. I’m not saying no.”

You want to laugh at how awkward he sounds but you don’t want to ruin the progress he’s making. It’s a big admission from someone who’s spent his entire life hating himself and keeping the vast population at an arm’s length. So you’ll take what you can get.

Pushing at him until you can see his face, you lift his chin up and go to kiss him before the sudden voice of Taehyung outside the room causes you to jerk in surprise.

“So if er...if this is gonna become a thing. Can we like...get ceiling’s for the rooms or something? Or like...a warning system so I know to leave? As hot as it sounded...it’s probably gonna get real old, real quick. So...yeah. Let me know if I need to...call a person who...makes ceilings or something. Thanks.”

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xoxopandapanda · 5 years

Text

Little Family Ch. 20

Chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

FF.net

AO3

As Inuyasha looked into the attic strewn with boxes all labeled differently and in varying states of decomposition it seemed, he hesitated before going in. Kagome was directly behind him on the ladder, her hand swatting his backside to get him to go up.

“What exactly are we doing up here?” Inuyasha ignored her light smacks, pulling the rag upwards from his neck to cover his mouth and nose.

Kagome answered him, “We’re looking for the Christmas decorations. Are you going up or not?”

Inuyasha left foot went up one step, but paused when his ears brushed cobwebs. “I’m thinking not,” he told his wife.

Kagome huffed loudly. “Really?”

“It’s so dusty up here. I think I see a spider the size of my hand back there.” He raised one hand to brush away all the cobwebs around his head, but winced when he saw how many more there were further back into the small space. “Besides,” he continued, “I don’t think I’ll fit. I’m a little too big for whatever torture chamber you’re trying to lure me into.

Kagome let out a load groan. “Why are so dramatic?”

Inuyasha stepped up another ring on the ladder. “Are you sure about this? Are you even sure they are up here?”

“Mama said they were. Now are you going up or not.” Kagome climbed up the ladder even more to crowd her husband and force his hand into going up. “If you’re not, I’ll do it by myself. You can stand at the bottom and I’ll pass things down to you.”

Inuyasha finally went all the way into the small attic, slouched quite a bit to be able to move. Kagome followed suit, but due to her height, she was able to stand as normal, her hair just brushing the top. Inuyasha had half a mind to point out how many cobwebs were getting tangled in her hair, but he didn’t want to risk her getting freaked out.

“So why I am up here?”

“The boxes are heavy. I don’t know if I can lift them all.”

Inuyasha looked around at all the boxes up there. The layers of dust were thick everywhere. He asked his wife, “How did you get them up here then, if they are so heavy?”

Kagome paused, and Inuyasha worried for a second he hit a nerve.

“Well,” Kagome kept her eyes on the boxes, not looking at Inuyasha. “My dad brought them up here.”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened as he nodded, not that she could see him. Kagome hadn’t really ever spoken about her father to him, besides telling him that he had passed away when she was young.

Kagome continued. “I remember how much I loved decorating for Christmas with him, and I want Koji to have the same memories.”

Finally, she looked up at Inuyasha, her eyes slightly gleaned from unshed tears. "I was our family to have the same memories.”

Inuyasha nodded. Swallowing hard, he moved to hug her. In the tiny space, he enveloped her entire body instead of just pulling her close, but she squeezed him tight so he knew she didn’t mind.

After a few moments she pulled away, her face a little red but a smile present. “So let’s look for the Christmas boxes.”

Inuyasha turned around and looked. “How do we know which ones are those?”

“They’ll say Christmas on them.”

“What does that word look like?”

Kagome stopped, taking a moment to realize that Inuyasha would have never really have ever seen the word before or have ever celebrated either. “Oh,” she responded, “let me find one and show you.”

She sneaked past him, silently happy that he held her waist to keep her balanced when she moved past him.

Seeing a bold CHRISTMAS marked box across the space, she pointed to it. “There,” she told him. “That’s one.”

Inuyasha’s face twisted as he looked at the stacks of boxes, unsure which one she was pointing to. “Uh,” he leaned over her shoulder to see if he could decipher her clues.

Kagome didn’t seem to realize that he was confused still, lifting her leg to step over boxes. As she scaled her way back, Inuyasha tried to grab her to bring her back to safety. “Hey now,” he said, getting a grip onto her shirt. “Don’t go where I can’t help you.”

“I can fit back here just fine.” She was now bowed, as the slope of the roof was so severe that she couldn’t stand.

“I don’t and I can’t get you if you trip.”

Kagome cocked her head and tossed him a look. “What am I going to trip on?”

Inuyasha used his free hand, the one not pulling on her shirt, to point at all the boxes. “Take a wild guess, Kagome. A wild guess.”

“If anything, they’ll stop me from falling. There isn’t a whole lot of room for me to fall down.”

Inuyasha scoffed out, “Exactly. You’ll probably break a leg, and then what will I do with you.” He pulled harder on her shirt. “Get back here.”

Kagome ignored him, choosing to pull the Christmas box towards her instead. “Oof, this thing is heavy,” she said to no one in particular, although her husband was right there.

“Do not hurt yourself. Let me get that.”

Kagome waved back at him. “Let me get it closer to you, then you can get it.”

“You’re going to throw out your back. Let me get it.” Inuyasha moved to plant his feet better and lean to obtain a stronger hold her, so he could pull her out of the mess she had put herself into.

But he forgot that Kagome was just as stubborn as him, and when he lifted her up to bring her back to him, she took the box too.

“Kagome!” He exclaimed, lifting her over the boxes between them. “What are you doing?!”

Kagome, once he had put her feet back on the ground, looked a little too smug for his liking. “Getting the box. See how easy that was?”

Inuyasha’s jaw dropped at her comment, hidden by the cloth covering his nose and mouth. “Are you kidding me?”

Kagome put the box down, wincing a little at the clatter the items inside made. “Let’s get the other ones too.”

Inuyasha promptly picked her up again, jumping clean down the ladder with ease and putting back on the floor of the shed. Before she could blink, he was up and back down with the first box. He put box on his shoulder, freeing up a limb to wrap around her. He led her back into the house, pausing only for her to take off her outdoor shoes, before leading her into the family room where Mama Higurashi was reading books to Koji, who was far more interested in the texture of the paper than actually looking at the pages.

“She’s a hazard up there. Here,” he said, putting the box on the floor, more gently than Kagome had before, “unpack this box. I’ll get the other ones by myself.”

Kagome raised an eyebrow, about to give him a piece of her mind – she was most certainly not a hazard – but he was gone before she could speak.

Mama Higurashi had paused in reading to tell her daughter to get a cloth for the dust layers and some scissors to open the boxes, but she quickly went back to reading to her grandson.

Koji, for his part, didn’t even seem to notice she wasn’t reading, continuing to play with the paper and feel the silky texture of the book with glee.

Inuyasha was swift in bringing down all the boxes, and Kagome couldn’t help but wonder how he was able to find them all, with how many boxes were up there, but she also knew that he was still annoyed with her and it was better to not bother him much more.

She was careful to clean off as much of the dust and debris off of the boxes, not wanting to dirty up her mother’s home, as well as not wanting to agitate her son and husband’s sensitive noses.

A vacuum would have been a lot less work, however a vacuum wasn’t something Koji was used to yet and might have scared him.

An extra load of laundry for the cleaning rags was just going to have to be done.

Inuyasha told Kagome to check that he hadn’t missed a box, and it didn’t escape her notice that he kept a grip on her the entire she was up there.

“Nope, you got them all.” Kagome twisted in his arms to give him a kiss, but paused when she saw all the dust on his face mask and hair. “But you might want to take a quick shower to get all that dust off you or it’s going to make you sick.”

Inuyasha grunted, climbing down the ladder this time. He waited at the bottom for her climb down, quickly putting away ladder and pulling the string to shut the hatch.

Koji seemed to finally realize that something was going on, and while he was clearly apprehensive about the change in the room and boxes, his curiosity was getting the best of him. Mama Higurashi was holding the scissors in her hand, and Kagome wanted to smack herself when she realized she had left them on the table in Koji’s reach.

Before she could open her mouth, Mama shook her head with a soft smile. “It’s okay dear. That’s why we make sure someone’s watching him.”

Inuyasha sped past the door frame into the bathroom. Kagome mouthed a ‘thank you’ to his departing back. If Koji had seen him, he most likely would have wanted a cuddle, and until Inuyasha cleaned off, it wasn’t a good idea.

“What’s in there, baby?” Kagome squatted down next to her son, who was pulling at the edges of the old tape sealing the boxes closed.

At the sound of her voice, he lifted his head and shrieked loudly in glee. Throwing himself into her arms, he forgot all about the boxes.

Kagome gave him a quick squeeze, enjoying his enthusiasm at seeing her. “Did you have a good time with Grandma?”

Koji rubbed his face into her chest, making a soft noise of agreement. Kagome stroked his hair softly, asking him, “Should we see what’s in the boxes?”

Koji didn’t fully understand what she asked, but he was quick to climb into her lap when she crossed her legs to sit down and open boxes. Mama Higurashi handed her the scissors, and she opened the box closest to her. The sound of the scissor blades slicing through the woven tape drawing his attention.

Kagome put the scissors back on the table behind her and far away from small hands once the box was opened. When she lifted the lid, the stale stench of years old packing material hit her pretty hard. It was so strong that Koji abandoned his position on her lap and made his way across the room to his grandma.

“Oh,” Mama Higurashi put her tea down, opening her arms for Koji to enter her embrace. “Was it too smelly?”

Kagome coughed and laughed at the same time. “I should have thought about that. It’s been years since this has been opened, of course it would smell bad.” She looked over at Koji. “Sorry baby, Mama didn’t think about that.”

She pulled each wrapped item out of the box and put them on the floor next to her. Koji watched from a distance with a careful gaze.

Mama Higurashi observed her daughter go through the boxes that hadn’t been opened in years, sadness creeping on her.

Christmas had been her husband’s favorite time of the year. He loved decorating a tree and buying presents for his children. Christmas hadn’t meant much to her, and once he was gone, she hadn’t ever even imagined she’d celebrate again.

When Kagome had mentioned wanting to decorate with Koji, she had wanted to say no. It was painful to think about the memories associated with the little houses, holly, and tree that was up in the attic.

However, Kagome was right. Koji deserved to have memories too. Maybe she could recreate memories that would replace the pain.

“Do you want to keep the boxes?” Kagome asked her, on her knees to open another box.

Mama Higurashi’s inhale felt harsh in her chest. Those were the boxes that her husband had used. Did she want to keep them?

Looking at the state of them, she knew she shouldn’t. They should get new boxes that weren’t decaying slowly from being in attic for years.

“Mama?” Kagome’s voice brought her out of her stupor.

This was all about making new memories, she decided. “No,” she told her daughter, “we’ll get new ones after the holiday.”

Kagome watched her with questioning eyes, but whatever questions she had, she didn’t voice. “Alright then. I’ll break them down and have Inuyasha tie them up for garbage day.”

“What am I doing?” Inuyasha entered the room, sans any of his tops and in a pair of sweatpants from the ‘Emergency Inuyasha’ clothes stash. “Shit, Kagome, what the hell is the smell?” His hand quickly covered his mouth and nose.

Kagome rolled her eyes, using the scissors to deconstruct the boxes so that they would lay flat. “Old attic smell. Quit it and help me unpack.”

Inuyasha scooted past her towards his mother-in-law. “No, I think I’ll stay with Koji. He’s got the right idea being on that side of the room.”

Kagome smacked his retreating backside. “Brat. Who’s going to help me?”

“I will.” Mama Higurashi lifted Koji to his father. Koji was quite happy to transfer over to his father. “Are your clothes in the wash dear?”

Inuyasha tucked Koji into his arm on his hip. “Yeah, it was caked and needed a rinse.”

“Did you start it?”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha plopped down onto the ground, sliding his toddler into his lap.

Mama made her way over to help Kagome. “Thank you for doing that, Inuyasha.” Opening up another box, Mama bit back a sad sigh. She hadn’t seen this stuff in a long time.

Kagome touched her hand. “I can do it alone. I was just giving him grief.”

Mama Higurashi was touched at how kind her daughter was. “No,” she replied, pulling out an ornament wrapped in tissue paper. “It’ll be good for me to also have these memories.”

Kagome nodded her understanding. Suddenly she stood up, clapping her hands together. “I know what we need! We need Christmas music!”

Koji looked up at her also clapping his hands together. Kagome laughed. “See, even Koji agrees with me! I’ll get the CD player. I think I’ve got some albums still upstairs!”

Inuyasha asked Mama Higurashi, “What is she doing?”

“Getting music. Music for the holiday.” She inspected the little ceramic house for damage, silently happy that there none to be found.

Inuyasha looked back the door way, clapping along with Koji who was still carrying on his one-man audience. This was all beyond him.

Kagome emerged with a CD player, and after plugging it in and little bit of fuss, it started to play soft music. Inuyasha had heard these songs in the stores before, but he hadn’t heard it anywhere else before.

The change in the environment intrigued Koji enough to exit his father’s lap and waddle quickly over to CD player. He squatted low, tucking his hands under his feet so he could lean forward. His red ears swiveled around as he took in the new sounds.

Mama Higurashi and Kagome continued to unpack the boxes and sort the unusable items into the trash and recycling, Inuyasha leaned back on his hands and watched the scene before him.

He didn’t understand Christmas. He didn’t understand the fuss of decorating the house for a day in the future. What he did understand though was how important making memories was. And this was for sure a scene he wanted to remember.

Once all but one box was sorted, Kagome called him over to help them. “We’ve got to set up the tree.”

“The tree?” Inuyasha stood up and watched Kagome open up the longest and biggest box.

Kagome lifted the lid and he saw green pine needles. “What is that?” He picked up a branch, taken slightly aback by the amount of green pine that came out with it.

“It’s the Christmas Tree. We’re going to put it in the corner.”

“We’re putting a tree inside?” Inuyasha questioned while Mama put down a towel and Kagome put a strange device down.

Kagome chuckled. “Yep.”

“Why?”

Kagome put a large tube in the middle and started to put branched on it. “It’s tradition.”

Inuyasha put the branch he was holding on like Kagome did. “Weird tradition.”

Kagome shrugged. “I suppose it kind of is.”

Koji had noticed the activity across the room from him. He walked over and stood off to the side, taking in all the action.

As the tree came together, Inuyasha commented, “I’ve never put a tree together before.”

“Well, maybe that’s our new memory,” Kagome said.

Inuyasha took the top of the tree, easily tucking it into the tube.

Koji walked around the tree while Kagome swept up the fall pieces of plastic pine needles.

“Here baby,” Mama Higurashi called out to Koji. “Let’s put on the tree skirt.”

“We’re clothing it?” Inuyasha’s voice was incredulous.

Kagome laughed and nodded. “Gotta kept it modest.”

Koji helped Mama Higurashi put the fabric around the base of the tree by balling it up in his fist and investigating the stiches that held it together.

Inuyasha took a step back and looked the tree up and down. It didn’t look like any tree he had ever seen before. He supposed that was because it wasn’t real.

“Time for the lights. Or do we do the tinsel first?” Kagome asked her mother.

Mama Higurashi looked over her shoulder. “Probably the lights.”

Kagome picked up a string of what Inuyasha thought were probably small light bulbs, and she and her mother started to lay them into the tree. They discussed the best way to wrap them, before moving onto the colorful tinsel.

He watched in fascination, taking in all he could.

Koji was still very occupied by the tree skirt.

While Mama Higurashi was fussing with the colorful beads strung around the tree, Kagome stepped back to the piles they had made earlier.

She came back with an arm full of items that had come from the boxes. She started to put them on the tree in a varying pattern, walking this way and that. There were paper ones, globe ones, and little sculptures.

“Here,” she said, handing her husband some. “Put these ones higher so a certain little man can’t get his fingers on them.”

Inuyasha watched her closely for a moment, seeing how she had put them on the tree, before doing the same.

Mama Higurashi stood, brushing off her legs. She touched the top of Koji’s head to get his attention. “Let’s help putting on ornaments, Koji.”

Koji took her hand, walking to select items out of the pile. He came back with fistfuls of soft sewn ornaments. Inuyasha recognized some of them, like the man in red with white hair and the deer-like animals.

“Put them on like this.” Mama Higurashi showed Koji how to put the ornaments on the branches. He seemed reluctant to release his new treasures, but after a bit of coaxing and a lot of praise, he joined in on decorating the tree.

As the Christmas music hummed in the background and the tree came together, Kagome felt her heart swell with happiness at sharing this time with her family.

Once the tree was all done up, Kagome told Inuyasha to plug it in. He took the cord from her hand, putting it into the wall socket next to the tree.

As the lights lit up and tree came to life, Koji’s eyes shone just as bright. “OH,” he exclaimed loudly. “Good!”

Kagome froze. Had he finally said a word. Immediately, she felt tears well in her eyes.

Mama Higurashi was quick on praising Koji. “Yes, it is. It is good.” She kissed her grandson, holding his shoulders gently, tearing up a little. “It’s very good.”

Inuyasha swooped in and picked up Koji to bring him closer to the tree. “Do you like it, Koji?” he questioned his son, his excitement at Koji’s first word radiating off him.

Koji nodded. “Good.”

Inuyasha pressed his nose against Koji’s cheek. “Good.”

Kagome walked forward to embrace her little family. “Good,” she repeated after her boys.

Afterall, everything was good.

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