#he wasn't suppose to see Reader sleeping with Moon and waking up with Sun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

derelictlovefool · 2 years

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Hi! I’d like to make a request 😄 I love fics where enemies take care of each other, so how about one where the gender neutral reader/deputy is injured or sick and they show up at John Seed’s ranch. John is surprisingly concerned about them and takes it upon himself to nurse them back to health. Thanks for considering my request!

I am a big fan of these types of fics too! I'm splitting this into parts so I can post some of this finally, thank you for requesting and I hope you like this first part!

Title: Dusk Till Dawn Part One

Warning(s): Descriptions of stitching and cleaning an open wound, canon-typical violence

Words: 8.1k

The sun was slowly settling behind the trees, tinting the skyline with pinks and oranges as that familiar deep blue bled across the sky in the wake of its absence. John inhaled deeply, the smell of wet earth and the candles he'd lit meeting his nose and filling him with a sense of serenity he hadn't experienced since the reaping began. He had been preoccupied cleaning up after the ever troublesome deputy who seemed insistent on leaving a trail of destruction through his valley; but surprisingly they'd been MIA for a few days now. Something John was almost glad about.

Until his mind got the better of him, that is.

Even now, standing on the back porch of his ranch; sipping idly on a steaming mug of coffee and basking in the changing sky he could feel a trickle of worry on the back of his neck. It was infuriating, being worried about someone who was hellbent on knocking down everything he'd worked for; someone whose stubbornness and unwillingness to listen to his point of view further wedged an invisible barrier between them. He wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that he was worried something had happened to them or the fact that if the roles were reversed they wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over him being gone.

And lose sleep he most definitely had. His eyes droop with the sun as it finally disappears behind the trees, allowing for the moon's soft glow to bathe over the landscape. Each day the deputy was missing was another night John failed to get a full night's rest and it was starting to impair his work. Sighing he mulls over the day and how he'd snapped at a few of his Chosen who were simply doing exactly as he asked—they just happened to be doing it far too loudly and far too close to his open window.

He'd have to apologise, if only for crowd control; it wasn't very unifying for the herald of Holland Valley to be snapping and being irate at project members. Running a hand down his face John heaves out a heavier sigh, this wouldn't be a problem if the deputy was just where they were supposed to be. There were only so many places one could go off the radar in the County, they really couldn't be that far.

Rustling in the bushes pulls John out of his pondering and he feels his spine go rigid, he'd asked for some privacy so all the project members usually stationed at the back of the ranch were at the front and that fact left John a bit more vulnerable than he'd like. He takes a cautious step back, figuring he could probably make it inside before whatever was slinking around in the bushes could reach him.

But then he catches the sight of familiar eyes, a familiar face covered in blood and dirt stuck in a grimace and he feels his heart stop.

"Deputy."

He mutters the title under his breath, as if trying to assure himself he was really seeing them and not a sleep deprived hallucination. They fall to their knees, one hand clutching their bloodied side as they stare up at him with conflict raging in their eyes. He could tell this wasn't their ideal choice of destination but taking in the state of them, beaten and looking close to death, they obviously didn't have much of a choice.

"John,"

They choke out his name and his blood runs cold from how weak they sound. The deputy always had a tone of confidence, brazen and fiery and doused in a shameful amount of pride; it was jarring to see them like this. That worry that had been fogging John's mind was now an encompassing flurry of panic, his limbs moving before his mind could catch up and he was on his knees beside the deputy in seconds. His tattooed hands flutter about around them for a moment, hesitant to touch them in their fragile state yet desperate to check on their wounds and tend to them.

He doesn't have time to question his own desire to help what some would consider his sworn enemy, as the deputy falls into his chest, their shoulder digging into his sternum and temple resting on his collar bone. The contact urges him to wrap his arms around them and keep them from falling any further. Manoeuvring them to their feet is a struggle, having a near miss of their elbow in his face and a slip of their feet nearly sending them both tumbling down to the ground again. He manages to get their arm around his shoulder and his around their waist, leading them inside as fast as their injured body would allow.

Each grunt and hiss of pain pricked at John's skin, he found himself wincing as if he were the one injured.

He considered laying them down on the couch but the chance of his chosen walking in and seeing them was too high, so despite their whine of protest he dragged them towards the stairs. They both make it up without falling but the deputy's breathing only grows more ragged as they reach the second floor and John can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage as they stagger onto the balcony. Luckily the stray project members are distracted with each other so he gets the deputy into his room without being spotted and lays them down on his bed as quietly as he can manage.

They don't say anything as John rushes in and out of his ensuite, a medkit in his hands as he returns to their side. John unbuttons the deputy's shirt hastily and their lack of resistance does nothing to ease his anxiety, the blood staining their stomach and deep gash in their side worsens it even more so. He wasn't a doctor, far from it, but even with his limited knowledge he could gauge it was a pretty serious wound. If they were lucky there would be no internal damage but that wasn't something John could tell just from looking at it.

John doesn't waste any time, pouring disinfectant on the wound to clean it; doing everything in his power to ignore the agonised noises that escape the deputy's hoarse throat as he wipes the area clean. This isn't exactly how he'd planned his night to go and he assumed it wasn't in the deputy's planner either. He tried to take in the wounds and assess how they got them, maybe a judge or cougar got a good swipe at them, or a project memeber got them in the midst of a fight. It probably didn't really matter. He could hear the chatter of project members out the front and he prayed the music they were playing would drown out the deputy's rising voice.

"You might not be happy about this deputy but i'm afraid you're going to need stitches, I don't have any—"

"Just—do it," The deputy cuts him off and for a moment he finds himself lost in that flickering fire burning deep in their eyes. Even on the verge of bleeding out in their enemies bed they still managed to be as stubborn as ever. Ready to grit their teeth and bear the pain wrought unto them. John couldn't help but smile; he'd almost forgotten how impressive their grit was. He quickly takes out the needle and sutures from the med kit. The deputy squeezes their eyes shut as he threads the needle, and he watches their body tense as the metal makes contact with their overheated skin.

He tries to be quick while also being as meticulous and careful as humanly possible, each time the needle pierces their skin the deputy writhes under his hands. Seeing their attempts to keep from screaming bloody murder is almost impressive, but he was also worried if they kept tensing their jaw like that it would snap. He didn't really have anything to offer as an alternative however so he just kept his head down and focused on closing up their wound.

Under any other circumstances he'd tell them they'd gotten what they asked for; if you set a house on fire while you're still inside what do expect to happen? But with the blood still gushing out of their wound and coating his hands he simply couldn't find it within him to be any kind of teasing or condescending. It was odd, the tension in his shoulders and hammering of his heart against his ribs. He couldn't quite understand where all this anxiety had come from, or why he was feeling it over the deputy who he'd done his fair share of damage to at the point. Well maybe not drawn any blood as of yet but still.

By the time he's done and cutting the thread the deputy is all but unconscious, eyes fluttering and chest heaving as they try to keep themself from succumbing to the exhaustion and pain anchoring them to John's bed. John watches their face for a moment and stands, wandering back to his ensuite almost robotically to dampen a hand towel. He pauses as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his shirt and hands coated in the deputy's blood, hair out of place thanks to their less than graceful journey to his room and eyes shaken and pupils dilated.

What on earth was he doing? Hadn't he been begging for someone to put a bullet in the deputy's head and save him from their ruthless disruption? Maybe he had been, but maybe he had also been hoping they'd come to their senses and come to him under different circumstances. This was less than ideal but still presented an opportunity. Maybe he could work with this—If they could find it within themself not to succumb to death in his bed.

A groan from the bed steals his attention again and he briskly walks back into the bedroom. The deputy watches him weakly as he folds the hand towel and wipes the freshly stitched wound, being careful not to drag too much over the fresh sutures.

"Thank you,"

John's hand stutters for a moment, shocked by the words they just croaked out. They close their eyes and he's not sure if it's because they truly can't keep them open any more or their weak attempt to avoid holding his gaze. Perhaps the genuine expression of gratitude was embarrassing and they didn't want to see the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Either way, he goes back to wiping the blood and grime from their skin and bites back any comments he could make on their docile attitude. He'd rather enjoy the moment while it lasted instead of sour it in any way.

Bandaging their wound is tricky as they seemingly passed out as soon as they closed their eyes but John manages; tying it off and then throwing what he could of the quilt half underneath the deputy over them. It's then that it sinks in that his perfectly well kept bed is drenched in the deputy's blood as well as covered in dirt and who knows what else. He cringes knowing he'll have to throw a majority of it out, blood did not come out of silk easily enough to bother trying to save it. The quilt he would make an attempt on however; when it was free of the deputy's beaten and bruised body of course.

He stands there, looking down at the deputy as their breathing evens out and their expression relaxes. They almost look peaceful and even more vulnerable than they did bleeding out in his bushes. As he himself was coming down from the adrenaline he slowly mulls over what just happened, cleaning up the med kit and disposing of any rubbish he idled around his bed. What should he do now? He could easily have the deputy taken to his bunker, placed in one of the many rooms to await confession. Their current condition might make them more susceptible to talking.

He could alert Joseph, see what he wanted him to do. But John didn't really want to do that—Not yet. He wanted to prove he could break the deputy on his own, get them to see the truth without any intervention.

He runs his eyes over the deputy once more, the menace that had been haunting him day and night without stopping was finally right in front of him. And he didn't feel how he expected too. He felt relieved. Relieved to see they were alive, albeit very badly injured, they were still breathing and he was thankful for it. He couldn't really understand why, or why he was so ready to help them but what is done is done.

Slowly he walks closer to the bed and sits on the edge of it, tracing over every feature of the deputy's face with his eyes as if trying to find an answer in the curves of their jaw or slopes of their eyelids. He was coming up with nothing, nothing besides his heart picking up a new pattern to beat too. Completely unrelated to being so close to the usually distant and far away time bomb of a human being before him he was sure.

He reaches out and caresses their temple, dragging his thumb down to their cheekbone. Their skin was soft, still ablaze and covered in a layer of sweat and grime, but soft. The last time he'd been this close to them they were tied to a chair in his bunker, being prepared for confession for the first time. He could still remember the look in their eyes as they glowered up at him, gnashing their teeth like a wild animal as he regaled his tale of finding his path to salvation. He wanted to pull from them their own, learn what had broken them and help them put themself back together. They couldn't see it that way, calling him crazy and cursing him to hell at any chance they got.

The memory brings a small frown to John's face and he retracts his hand, instead running it through his hair as he stands and steps away. If he was lucky, the fact they came to him meant something. And maybe they would actually listen to him for once, with the option of fleeing no longer being viable in their current condition. Maybe…

The next morning John is alerted to the deputy waking by the sound of his bed creaking and their low pained groan that runs along the floorboards. He hurries to finish off what he was doing, tossing the dirty frying pan in the sink and putting the plate of what he would call a successful attempt at eggs benedict on a tray. He hums as he places a glass of juice beside it along with a fork and lastly a napkin.

He decided it best not to give them a knife for the time being, for his own safety.

It was a spur of the moment decision to make breakfast, John didn't usually cook for himself let alone others but he was feeling particularly chivalrous this morning. And with his surprise guest in the condition they were in he thought it only polite; and perhaps his show of kindness would make them more inclined to follow his lead. Plus showing another side of himself may help the deputy come around to him, there was a disconnevt he was sure was created solely from distance and unfamiliarity. If he could bridge that gap he would get through to them, he knew it.

Climbing up the stairs and heading to his room John carefully nudged the door open with his shoulder, walking in only to be immediately met with a gun pointed at him. His gun to be in fact. Lovely. He forgot to take it from the bedside drawer while they were passed out, good grief he was losing his touch. He'd blame it on the mess of a night, being thrust into playing doctor and lack of sleep had thrown him off his game is all. He would be more careful going forward.

"Good morning deputy, I hope you slept well." He greets, continuing inside as if they weren't pointing his own weapon at his head. If he played it calm and collected surely they'd understand he wasn't a threat to them right now, or at the very least stop pointing his own gun at him. They falter, eyeing him and the tray in his hand. Their brows knit together, clearly suspicious of him, but they lower the gun by a small margin and lean back against the pillows. Their body is still tense and index finger still hooked around the trigger so John keeps his movements slow and careful. The last thing he wanted was to get shot for trying to do a good deed.

"What are you doing?" They ask warily as he sets the tray down on the bedside table, wiping his hands on his jean clad thighs as he steps back. Giving them their space and allowing them to inspect the tray with a distrustful gaze. Like a wolf sniffing at bait in the forest.

"After a person loses that much blood they've usually got quite the appetite, am I wrong?" He asks, tone almost casual as he eyes their bloodied clothes and bruised skin. In the morning light their injuries were much more obvious, aside from the gash he'd stitched up the night before their skin was littered in cuts and the bruises painting their skin could almost mimic a very muddied galaxy. Not to mention the blood and grime covering them from head to toe—they'd most certainly seen better days.

"You… Didn't cook that, did you?" They ask after a moment of eyeing the plate of what John would personally describe a very delicious looking breakfast. The deputy lowers the gun to their lap and glances at him for confirmation.

"I hardly think you're in the position to be picky about your food deputy, it's not poisoned if that's what you're thinking. I wouldn't let you ruin my sheets just to kill you in the most unsatisfying way I could imagine," John scoffs, somewhat offended they would think he'd do something so plain. He was more creatuve than poison for fucks sake. They roll their eyes gently and push themself up more, tentatively reaching out and grabbing the fork on the tray. They very carefully take a bite, as if one wrong move would leave them choking and fighting for life. All the while they watch John from the corner of their eye as they slowly chew and eventually swallow; his expression remaining pleasant as he watches them.

It was funny in an odd way, they were behaving like a feral dog brought in from the wild and given food for the first time. He'd be best to keep that thought to himself though, if only to avoid having his gun pointed at him again. He didn't want any holes in his walls or himself for that matter.

"Well look at that, you survived. Not the most awful thing you've tasted, hm?" He asks after a moment and they eye him for a second in silence before nodding begrudgingly.

"No,"

"Good, eat all of it, you need it. I'm sure you'll regale me about how you ended up in my bushes half alive and bleeding out when you're feeling better," He hums, flicking his hand in the air in a dismissive motion as he turns to look out the window.

"I feel fine now," They mutter and John huffs out a short laugh. He highly doubted that.

"Oh is that so? Well by all means you're free to leave, deputy, don't let me stop you," He smiles at them over his shoulder, waving towards the door he came through as they glare at him.

"Really, you'd just let me leave? Just like that?" They ask, distrust clear in their voice.

"Well you may find my chosen a bit hard to walk through outside but I won't alert any of them if you really think you can successfully sneak out in your condition," John smirks, raising a brow as they glance past him to the window. Honestly he'd be interested to see if they could, they'd pulled off seemingly impossible tasks before with much greater risks and disadvantages involved.

"They don't know I'm here?" They ask incredulously, voice hushed now as if they were worried about being overheard. John almost feels embarrassed for a moment, it was definitely a confusing choice not to let his family's followers know he had the catalyst of the apocalypse in his bed especially when they posed a very real threat to John's life. He'd thought about all of that, he knew there was a chance this could go south and all his hopes were for naught. But he still decides to risk it. There was no success without risks after all.

"No and I assume no one else does either?" He muses, watching as their face morphs through multiple emotions before settling on unease. They had just inadvertently trapped themself with their enemy and despite John's good intentions they weren't privy to his inner monologue and regret danced in their eyes as clear as day.

"This is quite the predicament isn't it deputy? What compelled you to come to my doorstep of all places I wonder," He can't help but taunt, turning back to face them and wandering to the end of the bed with a small smirk on his face.

"I wasn't really thinking straight, blood loss will do that to you," They mutter bitterly, glaring down at the food he'd given them as their shoulders sag slightly. Not from defeat but perhaps a resignation to their current situation. John decides not to poke them any longer, the stress and fatigue woven into their features causing a heavy weight to wash over his chest. He was trying to be civil and amicable and failing miserably. They could go back to their hostile back and forth quipping when they felt better.

"So i've heard—I'll leave you to your breakfast deputy," He utters quickly, ducking his head as he swivels on his heel and makes his way to the door. He can feel their stare burning into the back of his skull like a magnifying glass zoning in on an ant. That was good, in a way, their usual intensity was back which meant they were already much better off than they were last night. Hopefully the food would help and after that he could offer them the antibiotics he'd dug out of his medicine cabinet earlier that morning.

When he returns about ten minutes later the deputy is laying back against the pillows, cradling their stomach with their eyes squeezed shut. John makes sure they hear him coming and their eyes fly open and zero in on him as he approaches. He holds out a glass of water and the antibiotics as they point his gun at his chest, eyes guarded as they frown gently.

"I'll need to move you to another room for a moment, you did make a mess of my bed and I'll need to change it if I plan on sleeping in it anytime soon," He informs them as they push themself up, caustiously sitting on the edge of the bed and taking pills hesitantly, other hand still protective clinging to the gun.

"You're… Letting me stay?"

"Letting is one word for it," John hums, tilting his head to the side as they pop the pills in their mouth and take a sip of the water after taking the glass from him. He was surprised they didn't ask what he was giving them, seeing as they were so on guard.

"Keeping me captive then?" They prod further, eyes glancing up at him and John feels himself get winded for a moment. The food had obviously helped as that fire was starting to dance in their captivating eyes again, the flames cutting through him as they watched him with caution.

"Like I said, you're free to leave as soon as you can do so on your own two feet," John turns his gaze to the empty plate as he speaks, anything to avoid being swallowed by their inferno. Had their eyes always been that distracting?

"Why?"

The question hangs in the air and John furrows his brows in confusion.

"Why what?"

The deputy scoffs and leans back, holding their arms out and nearly spilling the water in their hand.

"You've been hunting me down for months, this is like your big opportunity to squeeze a confession out of me isn't it?" They ask, brows raised incredulously. John mulls over their words for only a second, trying not to let his rush of eagerness show as he nods down at them.

"If you wish to confess I am all ears deputy but, you came to me in your time of need. You could have gone to any of those little heretics you run around with but you came to me; call it what you want but I believe this is a step in a new direction for us," He smiles, placing a hand on his chest as he speaks. He reaches out and places a hesitant hand on their shoulder, their body goes rigid at the touch and they glance from his tattooed hand to his face. But they don't try to move it.

Once again their face twists through different emotions, settling on frustration as they shake their head and heave out a sigh.

"What does that even mean?" They ask, voice strained and tired as they raise a hand to grab his wrist. Their fingers wrapping around him sends jolts of electricity up his arm but he tries to ignore it, clearing his throat and tightening his grip on their ragged shirt.

"It means you will give me your confessions willingly, in time, and until then I will be patient and I will give you your time," John elaborates earnestly, squeezing their shoulder and offering another smile; this one much more giddy. He was so sure he was right, he could feel it deep within him. Just them being here was proof enough for him that they were edging closer to what he was saying. They would come around and see what he'd been trying to tell them, he knew they would. He just had to wait.

The deputy watches his assured expression, takes in his words slowly and removes his hand from their shoulder much to his disappointment.

"You're gonna be waiting a long time," They mutter, not bitterly, not even begrudgingly. They sound unsure, hesitant, and it only makes that spark of hope in his chest grow.

"Then so be it, but I have faith in you deputy; this is proof you have the ability to come around," John retracts his hand, missing the feeling of their skin against his immediately as he drops his hand to his side.

"Whatever makes you happy John—let's just get this over with," They sigh and John takes the glass from their hand. He places it on the bedside table before holding a hand out to them, they look at it like it's an iron rod ready to brand them, but they take it all the same. He eases them up onto their feet, his other hand resting on their abdomen to steady them. He notices they had left the gun on the bed, he chooses not to comment on it lest they reach for it and bring it with them.

John wraps his arm around their waist, just like he did last night; except this time they're fully conscious and not searing hot to the touch. They're skin is still warm and as their arm slings over his shoulder he can now fully appreciate how soft their skin feels against his. Their aroma leaves something to be desired, dried blood and sweat was never a good combination. He'd think about running them a bath once he was done, they were still weak but he knew they'd refuse if he suggested helping them bathe. A pity, he muses for only a moment, side eyeing the deputy's face as they slowly shuffle out the door.

The deputy cringes as the sun blinds the both of them, and they duck further into John's side as they bow their head to hide from the offensive light. The contact sends shivers up John's spine but once again he tightens his jaw and tries to ignore it. He slowly guides them to the guest bedroom, he sees them glance down at the yard and look back at him with confusion knitted into their expression and he chuckles gently.

"I sent them away, only for an hour. Just enough time to clean up and get you comfortable," He explains easily, opening the door and leading them inside. It was smaller than his room, with a single bed, two bedside tables and a small round table and chair tucked away under the far window. The deputy doesn't comment on what he said, they just nod and let him lead them to the table and chair tucked away in the corner. He helps them into the chair, they grunt with the effort and wrap a protective arm around their stomach as they curl in on themself.

John rests a comforting hand on their back, rubbing gently despite the warning sirens in his head telling him not to be so bold and familiar. They do nothing to stop him so he keeps his hand there. He almost doesn't want to leave, seeing them in such a pitiful state had a foreign feeling flooding his chest and the thought of leaving them made him feel ill. But he also needed somewhere to sleep and the longer he let the blood soak his bed the longer it would take to clean.

The mattress was going to be a nightmare he realises, perhaps he could get a chosen to clean it. He's sure he could come up with a believable enough story about the blood, one that didn't involve the deputy hunched over in front of him right now.

"I'll be right back, feel free to read any of those books if you get bored," John mutters quietly, motioning lazily to the bookshelf by the table before letting his hand fall from their back.

"Right."

They all but cough the word out, not looking up at him as they glance toward the books. Admittedly they were mostly law books but there were a few others thrown in there, surely something could appease them. If they read, he wondered if they actually liked books. What kind of books did they enjoy if they did, did they prefer fiction? What was their favourite book? Author? John leaves the room with a whirlwind of pointless questions filling his mind, in due time maybe he'd be able to ask them. Maybe they'd answer.

John walks back to his room and frowns at the sight of his bed. Without the deputy there he could see the full extent of the damage, a hauntingly large blood stain clung to the material and he shuddered to think what state the mattress beneath it was in. He looked down at his watch, sighing and rolling up his sleeves. It takes him a few trips to get all the bedding to the laundry and a few times he almost trips down the stairs but he manages to get the bed stripped. And lo and behold, the mattress looks like a murder scene.

He does his best to scrub the top layer of blood off of the material before dousing it in disinfectant and laundry detergent—surely that would do something? It would be enough for now before he decided on what poor soul was going to clean this for him. He might need a new mattress, not that it would be easy to find a queen sized mattress laying around at the moment. He runs a raw hand through his hair, he'd worry about that later, right now he had a guest waiting for him in the room over.

He steps out onto the balcony, breathing in the fresh air deeply and allowing it to wash out the strong smell of chemicals. He stands outside his door for a moment, running his blue eyes along the landscape and taking in the mountains in the distance. He wondered if the deputy ever stopped to appreciate the scenery, with how much they ran around the county he could only imagine they had to stop every now and then to at least catch their breath.

He turns and steps toward the guest bedroom door, twisting the knob and nudging the door open slowly. The deputy's eyes are on him immediately and John smiles at the sight of an open book in front of them on the small table.

"You took your time," They say quietly after a moment of the both of them staring off silently, turning their gaze back to the book. John scoffs gently and steps further into the room, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

"Well deputy, I don't know if you know this but you bleed quite a lot and blood stains are not that easy to remove," He says, watching as the deputy shoots him an unimpressed look.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I'll try to bleed less next time." They say, the sarcasm dripping from their words an absolute delight to hear and John can't help but grin.

"That would be greatly appreciated thank you," He teases, grin widening as they roll their eyes at him. It felt so—friendly—normal. It felt good. Talking with them like this, like they were friends and not enemies—it felt right. Like it's how they were meant to be. A small ache echoes in the hollow of John's chest as he remembers that's not what they were, not yet at least.

"Do you have a shower in that fancy ensuite of yours?" The deputy pulls him away from the nagging thought and he nods in response to their questioning gaze.

"I do but I believe a bath would be better suited considering…" John trails off, waving his hand in a sweeping motion over the deputy's form, still very battered and bruised. And very dirty.

"I think i'll manage," They press their lips into a firm line as they decline his suggestion and he shrugs gently.

"Alright deputy have it your way, if you need my help—"

"I won't."

Their words are firm. They sting a bit and John has to swallow the spark of annoyance it causes. It's not like he was helping them already or anything, no, patching them up, letting them sleep in his bed and making them breakfast couldn't possibly count as that. He bites his tongue, something he seemed to be doing quite a lot. He'd have to tread carefully lest all his unsaid comments accumulated and burst out in a fit of frustration. Not that his dear deputy was going to make that an easy task.

It would be worth it, just a bit longer, he could do it.

"Then I suppose you can hobble to the ensuite yourself hm?"

He could be a small bit petty as compensation, it was only fair.

The look of irritation that flashes across the deputy's face is rewarding to say the least. But then they're standing, holding themself up on the table and staring him down with that steely determination in their eyes. John watches as they stagger towards him, their legs almost giving out halfway across the floor and face twisted into a look of pain as they pass the bed.

Forever impressing him with their mere grit they stop in front of him, breath ragged from the effort of dragging their body across the room. John drags his gaze from their booted feet to their face and he smiles, reaching behind him and pulling the door open for them.

"You are something else deputy," He muses, stepping out and holding the door open for them. They grip the doorframe and stagger past him, grunting with the effort. They steady themself on the railing of the balcony and John glides to his door, swinging it open and keeping his eyes trained on the deputy as they hobble in his direction. It was cute, in a weird way, like watching a fawn take its first steps. A very angry, stubborn fawn glaring at him like he was forcing them to walk on their own. He would help but they would have to ask first. Nicely.

They make it into his room and pause by the doorway as their leg almost gives out again. This time John catches them by the elbow, they lean into his side as he guides them back up and despite himself he wraps one arm around their waist again. He'd love the satisfaction of having them ask for his help but he knows that won't happen and they'll just end up standing in the doorway all day. They don't utter a single word as he helps them the rest of the way to the ensuite. He could rub in the fact they do need his help but then they would no doubt become twice as difficult and he'd rather avoid that.

Plus, it was much sweeter to bask in their semi-defeated silence.

John lets them go and they lean against the sink, their scrutinising gaze running along the tiled walls before landing on him through the mirror.

"Think I got from here," The mutter, eyes fluttering down to the sink. John nods but doesn't move, eyes transfixed on the way their eyelashes fan over the top of their frike covered cheeks. They look criminally soft, even from a distance. The deputy glances back up and he straightens up abruptly, inhaling sharply and turning with another small nod.

"Alright—Well if you need anything i'll be right outside,"

"Comforting,"

John shuts the door behind him as he leaves, rolling his eyes and letting his hand fall to his side. It would be comforting if they had more faith in him. He wasn't an animal, he wasn't going to attack them while they were already down. Not only would it not be rewarding it would go against all the work he'd done trying to get them to break their icy walls. He hears shuffling behind the wooden door, no doubt the deputy undressing and he feels a mismatch of feelings stir within him at the thought. His enemy was getting undressed in his bathroom and was about to use his shower.

A stray thought of them falling and needing him to rush in and help ran across his mind and he swatted away as quickly as it came.

He listens to the sound of the running water with a frown etched onto his face. He runs his thumb along his bottom lip as he stands there lost in thought, the project members and his chosen would be back in thirty or so minutes and he had until then to make up his mind about what he was really doing here.

While the deputy had done everything in their power thus far to blow his plans up into smoke they did provide a challenge he hadn't faced before. A challenge he wanted to win. He was sure he could get away with having them here for a week without any problems, if they decided to stay that long anyway. And if anything it would be beneficial to the project, they were the main cause of disruption thus far and having them out of the picture would make room for repairs and getting back on track.

If anyone found out the deputy was here, he could explain it that way and he was sure no one would question him. He could also take this time to try and ease them into their atonement, maybe having a moment of rest would let them see some reason. It would probably be easier to hold conversation now that they couldn't really run away or shut off their radio and ignore him.

Yes. Alright. There it was then, he'd made up his mind.

"John,"

He jumps at the deputy's voice through the door. Fuck, he hadn't honestly stood their that long had he? He hadn't gotten lost in his thoughts like this for a long time. He hears them repeat his name again and for a moment he considers staying silent just so he can hear it roll off their tongue one more time—but he decides against it.

"Yes deputy?" He clears his throat and answers as evenly as he can.

"Kinda gonna need some clothes,"

Ah right. Of all the things to forget.

"Right, One moment," He walks over to his dresser, picking out a shirt and sweatpants and placing them on the edge of the bed. He steps back, running his hands down his jeans as he glances at the bathroom door.

"I'll leave them here on the edge of the bed, unless you'd like some help?" He calls through the door, tacking on the suggestion as an innocent after thought. He had no ulterior motives in mind whatsoever, he was just being helpful. In their state they might struggle to change, it would be practical to have him assist.

"I'll pass, thanks," The deputy replies dryly and John chuckles, he expected nothing less.

"Well I'll be right outside if you change your mind." He calls out, making his way out the door and closing it loud enough so the deputy could hear it.

He pauses outside the door and then takes a seat on one of the chairs by the window, clasping his hands together and running his thumb over his knuckle. Faintly he hears the ensuite door open and the deputy stagger out. A decade ago he might have turned and snuck a peek through the tinted glass, but he hadn't been that man in a long time and he kept his gaze on the road and trees in front of him. The windows were tinted anyway, he wouldn't see more than a hunched over, struggling blob micmiking a vague human shape.

Minutes tick by and John listens to the sound of the deputy struggling, it was amusing to say the least. Their annoyed grunts and curses barely make it through the thick wooden walls and to his ears. When the ruckus stops he stands, flipping his wrist over and checking the time with mild disinterest. A small part of him considered making a call and telling his chosen to stay gone for the rest of the day, but then the deputy might very well sneak out and run off into the wilderness once again. Despite their hesitancy beforehand John wasn't fully confident in their ability to stay put, they were stubborn and if he poked and prodded just an inch too far they'd crawl out of his ranch and right into a ditch.

And if that happened who would be to blame? Themself obviously—but others would no doubt put the blame on John. Joseph wouldn't be happy that he was certain of. The thought makes an unpleasant feeling curl around John's throat and he rubs at it as if to alleviate the phantom feeling. He'd just have to make sure the deputy was fully healed before they left, that way no one could point the finger in his direction if they succumbed to deaths embrace.

"Are you still out there?"

At the deputy's question John steps back to the door. His hand hovers over the doorknob and he turns it slowly, allowing the deputy time to react before he pulls it open and steps inside. They sat on the edge of the bed, glaring at him and adorning his clothes. He feels a lump in his throat at the sight, the fabric that usually draped over his skin on slow Saturdays now fell over theirs—it looked so natural. Like they were meant to wear his clothes, sit in his bed, watch him with that calculating glare.

"So now what?" They snap him back to reality and he rips his gaze back up to their eyes, they looked much livelier after the shower. Much more themselves now all the grime and blood was gone.

"Hm? Well rest is about the only thing you can do, in this state." He muses with the smallest shrug of his left shoulder.

"For how long?" The gawk, shoulders tense as they straighten their back.

"Well given the state of your wound I'd say a few days—"

"Days? Here? With you?" The deputy almost barks and John purses his lips into a straight line. He tries not to take offence, even though the horror on their face was anything but flattering. They could show a tad more appreciation for his willingness to let them stay, after everything they'd done and all he'd selflessly forgiven. He was being more than accommodating.

"Yes, with me, is that so terrible? I think you'll find when you're not raging your warpath and fighting me I'm quite pleasant company." He smiles, as if to convince them of his words. They give him a blank stare in return and it takes everything in John not to scowl.

"Right, I'll believe that when I see it."

A challenge.

Simple, easy. John had wonderful table manners and his conversational prowess was unrivalled, as long as his companion was willing to be cooperative.

"Trust me, by the time you're back on your feet you'll barely want to leave. I doubt Miss Fairgrave offers breakfast in bed after all." John hums, clapping his hands together and tilting his head as the deputy rolls their eyes and turns away from him. They drag their eyes over the expanse of his room and for a moment John does the same, checking the state of it and assuring himself it was more than presentable. Not a thing out of place after the thorough clean of the bed.

"Nah, but she's got whiskey." The Deputy shoots back, turning with a smug smile sneaking onto their face. It's quite a sight, one that gives John another pause. If he wasn't mistaken, that was the first time he'd seen the deputy smile.

"No whiskey, i'm afraid, but I do have scotch or wine." At his words the deputy's eyebrows shoot up almost comically.

"I thought you weren't allowed to drink?" They inquire, tone puzzled as they look at him with curious eyes.

"It's solely for special occasions." John said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Special occasions or lonely nights where he stayed up too long, a small indulgence no one needed to know about.

"And this is a special occasion?"

"Yes. Very." If only they knew. This was his chance. Both of their chances to prove something to Joseph, to get that golden ticket into Eden. A few days were more than enough for John to get them to understand what he'd been trying to tell them, if he gave them a behind the scenes view of what he did for the project they'd understand how he could help them. He was sure of it.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me what happened over a glass?" John suggests, stepping forward and noting how the deputy didn't recoil or glare at him as he approached. Their gaze shifts to the floor and then to his now outstretched hand, hope bubbles along John's finger tips as he watches them like a hawk watching it's prey. Finally, after a moment of hesitation they take his hand. Their hand is warm, soft from the shower and their skin glides against his hypnotically.

He tries to ignore the fire set by their touch and helps them to their feet once more. The time much slower as he slides his arm around their waist and taking his time to guide them to the door. He wanted to savour the feeling dancing through him, the glee clouding his thoughts. This was progress. This was good.

#Far Cry 5 #john seed x gender neutral!reader #john seed x reader #far cry 5 x reader #GN!Reader Tag #Oneshot Tag #Anon Tag #this is longer than I meant for it to be and it's still not done sorry anon lmao #working on part 2 idk when it will see the light of day tho! trying to mix readers pov into it since this was entirely john pov #I really likethow this part turned out anyway so I hope other people do too <3

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atlasscrumpit · 2 years

Note

platonic yandere moonknight x teenager reader

A reader who has four alters and is one of those alters, two littles, the original alter owner of the body, and the protecter/persecutors.. reader.

I think that would be sick

Ideal Situation

What made them so special?

What made them think they were above you?

You were supposed to protect everyone in the system.

But, you didn't.

You ended up here, captive in an apartment.

But, sometimes you thought it was for the best, they could protect you and especially protect Leya and Alice who were young and needed someone older to help them.

"Love?" You heard a voice call out as you looked up to see Steven awake.

It was 3am in the morning and you were looking out at the moon.

"It's Y/N." You muttered he he nodded.

You knew he'd be disappointed, you weren't as affectionate as the others.

"Why are you awake, sweetheart?" He asked as you continued to stare out of the window.

"This is the only time I get quiet." You whispered as he nodded.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" He asked, you finally looked at him.

"If you're awake, maybe we can have some tea together." You replied, making him smile happily.

He ran off to the kitchen and began to boil the kettle, making you chuckle softly.

He came back after a few minutes and handed you a mug of tea.

You held it in your hands as Steven sat across from you and looked at the moon.

"Do you miss Khonshu?" You asked as Steven turned to you.

"I don't, that's for sure. But, I think Marc and Jake do sometimes. I think that's why they're so harsh of you sometimes, they get a bit pent up." He said as you scoffed.

"Yeah, I know the feeling." You said, making Steven look at you sadly.

"You're doing a good job, Y/N. Protecting the other three." Steven said as you smiled a little.

"Sometimes I second guess myself." You whispered, Steven looked at you and offered you a small smile.

"I know the situation isn't ideal, but being here with us has been the safest and most comfortable you've all been." Steven replied, you hated it but he was right.

You and Steven talked until the sun came up and you yawned a little before you rubbed your eyes.

Just from the change in demeanour, Steven knew you'd switch.

"Bed time, papa?" Alice asked making Steven smiled softly.

"Yes, sweets. Let's get you tucked in." He said reaching out and taking Alice's hand and leading her to her room.

He helped her get settled into her bed before she cuddled into her teddy and closed her eyes.

"Sleep well, darling. I'll see you later." Steven said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Marc came in about 4 hours later to see someone waking up.

He knew it was Leya when she looked sad and quickly covered herself with blankets.

"Babygirl? I made you some lunch. Do you want to come out?" Marc asked as he sat on the side of her bed and rested his hand on her shoulder.

Leya barely ever spoke, Marc was used to it by now.

She uncovered herself and nodded a little, making Marc smile.

He grabbed her favourite fluffy coat and helped her put it on before giving her hee teddy.

She stumbled out of her room and sat at the dining table.

"When you're finished, sweetheart we can watch a movie together." Marc said, glancing at Leya to see a small glimpse of happiness in her eyes.

"Thank you." She whispered making Marc smile.

Leya ended up cuddled into Jake now who was watching Leya's favourite movie for the 100th time.

He didn't mind though, he loved when Leya would whisper along to some of the scenes.

Maybe life wasn't perfect here, maybe it was ideal, but Y/N knew it was the best for everyone.

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marvel #mcu #Yandere

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sundropmoondroplover · 2 years

Text

Protect The Starlight Sun/Moon x Reader Chapter 4

Suddenly, the lights went out. You heard a quiet whirr of machinery until you finally saw him in the darkness. There standing in the middle of the 2 large jungle gyms was Moon surrounded by children. The children got excited by his presence until he let out a quick 'Shh'. "Shh.. It's naptime children. Go lay down in your sleeping bags and I'll sing you a lullaby" Moon said quietly giving each child a piece of candy. You took a good look at Moon. He was mostly a black and white animatronic with a starry nightcap and starry pants. The children seemed to adore him as they each laid down in their sleeping bags.

Moon was letting out a quiet humming sound as he checked all the children to make sure they were in their sleeping bags. Once he made sure they were he began to sing a lullaby. You noticed how soothing his voice was while he was quietly singing. He made sure all the children were covered in a blanket and had a pillow. After a few minutes the children were all sleeping. You understand now why he was the naptime attendant. He watched all the kids humming to himself before noticing your presence. He was suddenly lifted into the air looking like he was swimming over to you before landing in front of you. "Hi Moon! My name is Y/n and i work beside you and Sun in the Daycare" you said excitedly.

Moon let out a little growl putting his hand over your mouth. "Shhh... Children are sleeping. You wake them and you will be punished" Moon said quietly. The hand he had over your mouth was removed just to be placed over your throat. While he did that he pushed you up against the wall letting out another quiet growl. He pushed just hard enough onto your throat to make sure no mark would appear yet you could breathe. "I don't understand why you're here to be honest Y/n... Hehehe.. You do not belong in this Daycare with me nor Sun. You are not trustworthy.. no no no.. not trustworthy at all" he said quietly.

Your lungs were crying out for some oxygen to get through but before you could pass out Moon released you disappearing into the darkness of the Daycare. You breathed heavily finally able to get some oxygen into your lungs. Your heart was beating terribly fast as you slowly slid to the ground hiding in your knees. You thought Shawn was kidding when he told you about Moon but he was right. Moon had no intention of being nice to you right now or probably ever yet Sun was the sweetest animatronic you have ever met. They were literally the same Animatronic. You were sure that in some way Moon had some of Sun's kindness. No matter how long it would take you would find that kindness in Moon and try to be his friend. You slowly stood up letting out a quiet sigh.

Third Person P.O.V

Meanwhile over in a different area of the Daycare he was watching over the kids who were asleep while noticing Y/n slowly standing up. 'Moon! You Didn't Have To Do That To Y/n! They Means No Harm To Us' Sun said in their headspace. Moon let out a little humph in response to Sun. 'No don't trust Y/n' Moon said. He kept watching Y/n noticing they started walking around the Daycare very carefully. He wasn't sure if it was because of the children sleeping or was it because they were scared of him. Moon let out a silent chuckle saying to himself it was probably both. They should be scared of him.

Y/n walked around the Daycare in search for Moon but was also being careful of the sleeping children around. They let out a sigh noticing that he was obviously somewhere in the Daycare where they couldn't see him. They decided to give up and walk back to the desk. While on their way back to the desk they wasn't very careful and they tripped over something landing on a mat. They let out a quiet yelp of pain looking at their ankle. They looked and saw an exposed cord that was supposed to be hiding underneath a bunch of mats. Moon had suddenly got an alert to him that somewhat had hurt themselves in the Daycare.

He quickly saw that all the children were still asleep so he quietly landed back on the mats going over to the source. Once he did he saw Y/n holding their ankle in pain. Moon let out a huff of annoyance walking over to them. "Well.. it seems someone wasn't careful hehehe," Moon said quietly. They quickly looked up at Moon letting out a whimper of pain. Moon let out a tiny growl gently picking up Y/n and started to walk to the back of the Daycare. Suddenly Y/n felt the same feeling from before. They were being lifted in the air once again but by Moon this time until they landed in a room.

Moon put Y/n down before walking into a hidden part of the room. Moon was looking for the first aid kit Sun had kept in here. He didn't like Y/n but due to his programming he had to help Y/n with their injury. Moon quickly came back to Y/n with a first aid kit in his hands. Y/n felt as Moon gently grabbed their injury ankle putting some first aid on it. Y/n thought that he was going to be rough with them since he didn't like them very much. It must be because of his programming that he's being extremely gentle. You felt Moon start wrapping your ankle and made sure it would stay on.

Moon let go of Y/n letting out another huff of annoyance. "Next time.. be careful" he said quietly. Y/n looked at Moon before quietly thanking him. "Uh I tripped over an exposed cord that's supposed to be hiding underneath the mats" they explained quietly. Moon picked them up again jumping out of the room before lifting in the air again. Moon then brought Y/n back over to the desk again gently putting them down. "I only helped you because of my programming. The next injury you get will be because of me" Moon said quietly before disappearing once again. Moon went over to where the exposed cable was covering it up and made sure kids couldn't get to it again.

#fnaf moon #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #sun x reader #moon x reader

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skazoo · 2 years

Text

release the hurt.

↳ seo changbin x f!reader

the moon listens to secrets you're not ready to tell and he loves hearing the night sky talk.

length. 3.3k

genre. angst and fluff, fantasy!au, sorceress!reader, medieval???

warnings/tags. language, mention of death, mention of traumatic past, PTSD.

networks. @kflixnet

notes. AHHHH THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE ANGSTY AT ALL but here we are !!!! this is not proofread but i had this sudden idea that bypassed every other rational thought i had. also you can see where my motivation slowly crumbled under the weight of school and my upcoming exams. hope you can feel my suffering

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

WAXING CRESCENT ☽

“you promised me!”

“i didn’t promise you shit. i don’t even know you.”

“are you kidding me?”

“yeah! sorry! i thought it would be a great joke, actually.” irony oozing from your words as you accelerate your pace.

‘did your parents raise you like this? do you need to be so rude to a stranger?’ an outside viewer could say.

first. yes. your father raised you and every single one of your hundreds of siblings to pretend respect and obedience from everyone. “you are the most powerful sorcerers to walk the seven kingdoms,” he said. “you are my legacy, and you will act as such.”

you had believed it for a while but then it turned more violent than it needed to be and the self-hatred that came with it was not worth the struggle. now you have no aversion to saying it was all bullshit.

second. also yes.

you physically need to be rude to this specific stranger because he’s been invading your personal space and time for almost an entire week.

could you tell him that you can’t possibly teach him magic because of…higher powers, even if you solemnly swore, crossed on your heart, pinky promised when he was an impertinent little child? you sure could, but that would deeply and irrevocably wound your proud heart and you can’t have it happen, can you?

you abruptly stop in your track and with a loud groan you drop your baskets full of herbs and spin around, your jaw clenched and your hands wash over your face in deep frustration.

“listen chanwun-“

the man scoffs. “it’s changbin.” and you have to contain your amusement as you watch him bite his cheeks in an annoyed manner.

“whatever. i need you to stop bothering me, okay? you’ve been following me for almost a week and i don’t know how to tell you that i don’t remember ever promising a little annoying kid that i’d teach him magic when he grew up. stop telling the story again every time you come here. also, i don’t need an apprentice or a little helper or whatever you think you’ll be if i yield to your stupid request. so please, please, please, leave me alone and stop sleeping on my front porch. i’m not an inn.”

a stupid grin plasters itself on his stupidly plush lips. “are you begging me?”

“if that’s what gets you to leave me alone then yes. please stranger, i beg you.” you pick your baskets back up and start walking down the green hill that takes you to your lonely house covered in ivy.

the last rays of a late-spring sun peek from over the slope, and from the corner of your eyes, you catch the insistent stranger gasping in awe as the distant lights of the village begin to populate the edges of the forest that darkly oversees the unsuspecting townspeople.

when you reach the comfortable heat of your home you breathe a sigh of relief as you’re met with complete and utter silence. not the constant pleas from the weird guy, not the chirping of those annoying little fuckers that like to wake you up at the ungodliest time of the morning. just the crackling of the fire and-

“why do you have so many candles?”

you close your eyes defeated. “for fuck’s sake, how did you even get in? get out of my kitchen, c’mon.” you put two determined hands on his shoulders but he doesn’t need to get on his toes to spy around your smaller frame.

“and why does this whole place smell like something… recreational? and why is that cat looking at me weirdly?”

you turn him around to face the door and unceremoniously push him towards the night. “the smell is sage and the cat is aware that you’re a pain in my ass. now please, for the love of anything you believe in, go away.” you close the door on his offended face and lean against the frame of hard wood, a tired sigh escaping your parted lips.

his loud voice resonates through your silent walls. “well, then i’ll take my leave for today! see you tomorrow Y/N!”

how does he know your name?

he dramatically stomps his feet on the dusty trail that goes back to the village. “i’m leaving!”

you stand behind your small living room window, hiding behind jars of salt and old books, and blow out the candles, just to see if he will go wandering towards another light just like a moth. instead, in the soft silence of the night, you hear his careful steps as he tiptoes back on your creaky porch and huddles himself on the old rocking chair.

you wait for him to fall asleep to sneak out and drape an enchanted blanket on his bulky frame. an unconscious blush colors your cheeks and you rush back inside, chased away by the confusing skip of your heart.

FULL MOON - BLOOD MOON

two exact weeks have passed since the last time you enjoyed a silent morning, and you’ve weirdly enough begun to leave the front door open and the small livingroom’s light on at night, hoping, expecting the persistent nuisance to take the hint and start sleeping on the hard couch, home of your cat’s naps, cemetery of half-burned incense sticks and old books.

despite your initial scorn towards this whole situation, your house hums in glee at the presence of another soul to take care of. you notice how the fire burns warmer and the bread is crispier when you take it out of the big oven since changbin has uninvitedly started living with you. there have been a couple of awkward bathroom meetings in the middle of the night but other than that he’s been a polite guest.

much to your regret, your integrity is slowly crumbling under the full swing of the preparations for the blood moon’s rituals. you find that a helping hand is not necessarily unnecessary and you’re reconsidering the role of the teacher.

changbin asks you anything and everything, and every day you feel less and less compelled to hit him on the head with one of the heavy books that infest your house.

he is so unapologetically curious, so strangely energizing, that you have to intensely look at him at least twice a day– when he wakes up with ruffled hair and when he falls asleep surrounded by scribbled runes on yellowing papers– just to make sure he’s real and not a creation of your tired and delirious mind.

and when you do look at him well, you see what you unconsciously decided to miss the first time he came knocking on your door.

he’s not the tallest man you’ve met but he makes his presence known with the way he stands, chiseled chest proudly out, and strong shoulders in a straight line. you can see faint tan lines under the flowy fabric of his linen shirt and you think he must work in the sun if his skin has already turned to a glowy shade of auburn before summer even starts. his soft-looking hair – dark, unkept, and uneven – deliciously fall on his forehead, and is the target of his nervous ministration every time he doesn't immediately understand something.

to be objective, you have to admit that he’s beautiful, you tell yourself. just not to his face. never to his face unless you want to listen to him brag forever.

“what does this rune do?”

you shake yourself out of the hypnotized state you’re in and you catch him looking at you with curious eyes from the other side of the couch. the new routine of sitting together on the hard mattress after dinner –you propped on the armrest with your feet in his lap, him lazily browsing through an old journal– feeling more intimate than it should.

you lean towards the light of his candle as a yawn escapes you. “that’s for balance. ‘i’m balanced and centered in my most true self’”

he hums in acknowledgment. “and this one?”

“oh, i know that one. that’s for money.” you chuckle falling back against the armrest.

there's a beat of silence and then he speaks again. “do you have a spell to return someone to life?” his voice is small, unsure, almost embarrassed.

you look at his worried profile. “i- not in the way you would want to, im sorry.”

his eyes harden skeptically and his head shakes slightly.

you’ve never been an empath but you’re suddenly willing to try. “you want to talk about them?”

“i don’t.” he puts the journal away and closes his hands over your ankles in his lap; deep eyes burning into yours. “i know who you are, Y/N…” you stop moving, suddenly aware of his proximity.

“i don’t think you do.”

“you’re a daughter of ahriman, you- you dwell in the dark arts, i know it.” you can hear his breaths of terrified awe.

“you don’t know shit, changbin.” you hiss, prying your body away from his, but he ignores you without much of a thought.

“this scholar’s thing you’re living… don’t you feel stuck, chained down? picking herbs and drawing runes? you have a power that transcends this kind of magic, Y/N. i want to see real power.”

changbin realizes he went too far when your whole body freezes, shutting down, effectively shielding you from his presence. your cat hisses from his spot on the kitchen table as a swift gust of wind comes from closed windows.

you stand up and as much as you want to scream at him, you don’t have the certainty that you won’t start crying; the gaping hole in your chest hurts as you’re reminded of the thing you’re constantly missing, the magic that makes you, you.

you storm out of the living room and into your bedroom, the candles snuff out altogether and the door closes with a bang behind you, leaving the man basking in the cold red light of the blood moon that shines high in the sky.

get out of my house. your voice rings clear in his head.

THIRD QUARTER

after your silent outburst, changbin left.

he thought about knocking on your door to say he was sorry, but the moon was looking at him weirdly, painting his hands a red hue and making him feel like a criminal.

as soon as he stepped foot out of the door, the house locked up. every window, every crack, every glimmer of hope, walls he so adamantly wanted to break down, built themselves back up in mere seconds.

he came back once or twice during that week. you heard him walking on your front porch, rocking on the chair there for a while, humming a nostalgic tune, and then you heard him under your bedroom window muttering a small apology. ‘i’m sorry’ he said every time but you couldn’t look him in the eyes to be sure that he meant it.

when you stopped feeling him around your house, things got exponentially worse and you couldn’t understand why.

he finally decided to leave you alone, you thought. maybe he got angry or sad or offended. maybe he got tired of waiting for a magic that doesn’t exist anymore. maybe he got tired of waiting for you.

can you blame him, though? when you can’t even get out of bed to eat, when you can’t stop thinking about your misery and loss, when you’re acting as if you would rather die than endure this excruciating pain for the rest of your life. maybe, just maybe, you were not ready to sacrifice your identity to save all those lives. maybe, you regretted carrying out the heroic duty of finally putting an end to your father’s reign of terror; egoism had been your thing, why had you let it slip from your grasp when you most needed it?

you are – were, you have to remember yourself– the daughter of a man who cherished your power so much that he took it to the grave when you killed him. and even if you stripped him of his powers, and his name is dead to you now, you can’t help but long for that cursed gift he gave you when you were born.

despite it’s what you wished for from the beginning, your damaged heart cries out at night, howling at the waning moon, embarrassingly missing the curious and over-excited presence of your self-appointed apprentice.

he’s another reason you haven’t been able to function these past days. your house took your side and protected you from his words, but you can feel how his soul is missed by everything that surrounds you. missed by everything that you sometimes wish you weren’t. human.

you press your hands on your face, and in that darkness, you try to see his eyes again. when you lower them you sigh, exhausted by the effort and by the fear of not being able to remember them.

they were dark, expressive, expectant. too hard when you saw them the last time. they wanted power where power was just the leftovers of a past life.

you get out of your bed, in your mind the thought of looking for him around the village, but your weakened body protests and you faint on the wooden floor.

you dream of him.

WANING CRESCENT ☾

changbin hates working for the mayor.

it’s been a week since he left you alone and he hates how dirty he gets, he hates how bossy the man is, and most importantly he hates how desperately he needs the job. so when a gray-haired cat rubs its little head on his ankle in an insistent manner, changbin doesn’t let the opportunity to stop working go to waste.

he remembers your lectures on familiars, how they are ‘contained demons’, how they protect and channel a sorcerer’s energy, and how they panic when their owner is not okay. so, why is your familiar so damn far from you, and why does he feel like the cat is judging him for his poor deduction skills?

when he hurriedly rushes to your isolated house, the rancid smell that comes from your stuffy kitchen is the first warning sign that something in his absence went horribly wrong. the fruits have melted in a sticky mush on the table and little flies circle the crime scene like vultures.

then you’re there. sprawled on the bedroom floor, your clothes ruffled, your hair knotted and your knees full of blooming bruises signaling how this is not the first time you fainted trying to get up.

it’s night and he dares say that you look beautiful even like this, illuminated by a rebel ray of moonlight that escapes the cover of the cloudy sky, eyes closed and lashes that kiss the apples of your cheeks.

he tells you that you’re beautiful countless times after you wake up thanks to his nursing hands, when days inevitably turn into nights, and the sudden shyness that comes with his praising words is new every time he looks at you with stars in his eyes.

“how will the next bedtime story begin?”, you ask as he settles under the cover of your bed and raises an arm to allow you to snuggle into him. “the last one started with ‘there was once a beautiful sorceress’. am i that gorgeous, uh?”

he looks at you with a smug smirk. “you’re not beautiful.”

“yeah, i knew you were a liar-”

“you’re all the beauty,” his whisper tingles your ear and sends shivers down your spine.

he’s looking down at you with fond eyes and a tinge of sadness. apologetic eyes that are sorry for crimes they didn’t commit.

“you, i- you have a way of throwing out words. i-, i felt like it was the first time i heard the word ‘beauty’ uttered by someone.” your mutter under your breath.

he shrugs under you. “it’s not weird. there wasn’t beauty before you”

“liar,” you whisper with an embarrassed pout and close your eyes, somehow feeling fuller, complete, at ease again.

when he’s sure you’re drowsy enough that you won’t remember what he’s saying, he speaks loud enough for the moon to hear. “i wish i could make you feel as powerful as you look to me.”

and somehow, the strange magic that is luck comes rushing to him after a few days: a dusty book that sits in the back of your old closet bears the answer to all your problems.

NEW MOON

summer is near and you can feel the energy that surrounds you getting stronger, waking up from a long hibernation.

a full month has passed and you swear you will never get used to the late morning smiles changbin throws at you when you emerge from your now shared bedroom.

he’s dazzling, bright, a sun in comparison to your moony self, and you feel your mind and body leave behind the scars of the past.

you have someone who wants to know you even if you’re empty, someone who doesn’t care if you’re a shell of something that died.

but is it a coincidence or the tingling in your hands has gotten stronger lately? is it you or your familiar purrs louder, recognizing the energy, when you channel your concentration on something?

it’s a warm night when changbin reveals the wish he made to the moon that now shies away from noisy eyes.

“...and that’s how i rode a dragon,” you conclude your story with a nostalgic but happy sigh.

you got into bed as soon as the two of you finihìshed tidying up the kitchen, and are now exchanging legends and old tales for soft kisses.

yes. kisses because you came to the crucial decision that the nuisance that you wanted out of your house, is now a nuisance you want in your life.

“i love when you tell me about your glorious days, you know?”

he looks at you with eyes that shine with their own light, without the need of the moonlight.

he thinks he should tell you but he doesn’t want to build your hopes up and then see them crumble and take you with them.

“can you- i- can you try doing one of your old tricks? even if you don’t manage, can you try using your old powers?”

he’s scared that you will throw him away again, shut down, you can see it in the hesitant look he dares your way. but you’re done with regret and with envy and with sadness.

your hands tremble slightly when you raise them above your body. under the usual circumstances, you would have to use runes and herbs to do any kind of magic but now, as soon as you think about it a purple fire engulfs your hands, burning deliciously and painting changbin’s skin a flattering bright hue.

he doesn’t realize he let a stray tear fall from his eyes full of awe and like a student he recites the passage of the book that made him believe something could change.

“in order to be free, we must learn how to let go. release the hurt. release the fear. refuse to entertain the old pain.”

the natural healing force within everyone is the only thing you need to get well. the force that changbin managed to share with you when he walked into your house for the first time.

WAXING CRESCENT ☽

another life with him by your side begins. a new moon shines on you as you draw silent runes on his naked chest while he lets out soft snores from near you.

one for protection.

one for health.

and one for confidence even if you don’t think he’ll need it.

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sunseteyes · 4 years

Text

FLUFFVEMBER DAY 30: KENMA KOZUME

prompt: random questions at 1am (prompts are by @jojosmilktea)

word count: 1,414 words | themes: gen!reader. comfort fluff? domestic! pre-established relationship

tags: @kacchanori @chickynn @todominica @sparkleswritings @brinthie @patricia-ceballos @giyuus-wife @bitchtrynafck @astrxrism @animatedarchives @deephasoceanmagic @strawberrysalwa @kawaiinishii @moonlightaangel @mrs-kuroojinguji @meliorist-midoriya @pandabobachan

rv: entirely self-indulgent. this is my routine at nightㄟ(￣▽￣ㄟ) plus, i first wrote this at 1am hehehe. also, if you guys want a song inspo listen to dreamy night by lilypichu it fits this fic so well!! also, thank you so much for supporting me all throughout my fluffvember! aaa i’m never doing anything like this again but instead maybe an event that posts every atleast 2 days?? heheh. i may have grew exhausted at least more than once but this was fun! please do look forward to my future events~ i love you all~ although speaking of kenma i’ll have an smau for him comin up!

✒︎ unspoken rule

kenma was sleeping when he heard the muffled noises that eventually became the cause of his consciousness, pulling him into the wake world with his eyes landing on you, your phone held up to your face as the light from the gadget reflected on your irises; eyes wide open, indicating that you have been focusing on whatever you were doing on the screen.

obviously from the sounds though, kenma could rule out that you were playing your favorite game—mobile legends, probably. he wasn't much of a fan of that game since he knows and likes the others more, but since it was the only game you and him mutually could play, he frequently lets you indulge him to play with you. he also knows that the only reason you might be playing as of the moment is because you couldn't sleep, just like usual.

however, his eyes were already giving up and he let the sounds from your game lull him again to sleep, pulling him in the dream world where his unconsciousness settles him in and tucks him in a fantasy that he might not even remember the moment he opens his eyes.

it was 1AM when he was awoken again, which was unlikely of him since he usually wakes up an hour after, and he'll play games from then on. despite that, he forced himself to stay awake when he sees your form, this time in front of your laptop, clearly working on something—probably a schoolwork or a tumblr post you would schedule to be published by tomorrow evening.

he sits up from the bed and he immediately wanted to lay back down again, his body urging him to. still, he raises up a hand to rub on his eyes, hoping to scratch away the sleepiness in his system.

he was half-asleep when he pulls himself to stand and sit on the empty chair next to you—the one he usually occupies whenever he's gaming or doing his livestreams. your chair will only rarely be occupied by you since you do your work outside, where you set-up your laptop and things to do on fresh air, also as a way to not be interrupted by the sounds his switch or keyboard produces whenever he plays.

every night though, is a different story.

kenma knows you are not much of a procastinator and usually does your schoolworks or stuff to do as early as possible—and he actually admires you for that. for him, you were one of the most responsible person he has ever met. however, you have a tendency to pressure yourself to do things as fast as possible, and kenma is here to support you, even if he has to sacrifice one hour of his sleep just to accompany you in your work.

he didn't have to peak on your laptop screen and just pushed his chair next to you, presumably a natural move of his—which it is, anyway. he then raises both of your hand rests so that he can settle himself beside you and lean his head on your shoulder, letting his eyelids close as you merely continued typing away from your laptop.

this is not actually the first time you've attempted to stay up late while doing your schoolworks or other things that could only keep you busy. that's why this is also not the first time he has done this for you and these moments just comes by, as if it was part of your daily routine.

"what are you working on again?" came out kenma's voice, soft and slurred from the drowsiness, but still clear enough for you, who was only inches away from him. he feels you halt your movements, and probably looks at him sideways for a second before continues on with your work.

"i have this event that i'm working on. i was supposed to do this last week but i got piled up by my schoolworks. you should sleep on the bed, ken. aren't you uncomfortable in this position?"

"i'm not," he says almost instantly, situating his head further onto your shoulder. "are you?"

"no, it's fine." there was a pleasantry in your voice that even when his eyes were closed, he knew you were smiling. "this actually feels nice. thanks for accompanying me again."

kenma on the other hand, barely had energy left to form a reaction, but he was still able to speak and mutter out words, nonetheless.

"ask me questions, (y/n). i might fall asleep if you don't."

"hm? isn't it better if you sleep instead? it's alright, y’know. i know you're tired."

"i'm not,” his brows curl and furrow in the slightest, "-just keep me from falling asleep."

"okay, alright, alright." you chuckle lowly, your energy depleted all the same, but seemingly still in a fair mood. he notices you stop your typing and you were humming, as if thinking and pondering deeply.

"what's your moon sign?"

"what's that?" kenma's eyes flufter and he sees you typing away again.

"like-your sun sign in the zodiac is libra right? the moon sign is the sign that you truly are deep inside of you." you say, despite being preoccupied. you're good at multi-tasking like that.

"i don't know what you're talking about." his eyelids closes again as he says the word "next"

"okay, uh-if me and kuroo are drowning, who would you save?"

"you," he says, not even thinking about it. "kuroo knows how to swim and you don't. besides, i'm sure kuroo would be the one saving you before he could even drown."

you let out a chuckle, probably grinning wide despite the straight-up insult he just gave.

"yeah, i think so too. your lazy ass would be ordering kuroo to save me instead, that's what."

he removes himself from your shoulder and opens his eyes to weakly glare at you, a pout on his lips that you had to laugh when you glanced at him sideways.

“what? it’s true.” you giggled and he eventually makes his way back to your shoulder, his silky hair tickling the sides of your face.

"how long are you going to stay up anyway? i'd have to play a game in a few later." he mumbles under his breath, his eyelids probably sliding shut with its desire to sleep.

your typing stops and your head turns his way once again, a hand along its way to reach for his hand, squeezing it ever so gently, "i told you, you could take a nap now. i'd just wake you up later when it's 2 AM."

your reassurance seems to have proven its worth when he lets out a breath that resembles one of a scoff, snuggling a little more on your shoulder, making himself more comfortable.

"head on to the bed, ken. you'll have a stiff neck if you sleep like that."

"i won't."

"hm?" you resumed typing, your focus divided upon kenma and what you were doing previously. you're so used in multitasking, but since you were far more concerned with his well-being, your fingers couldn't even find a way to work out anything with how your mind seemingly can’t form the thoughts you wanted it to do so.

"i won't, i'll stay here. just wake me up on time." he mutters as he drifts off, his breathing stabilizes and his form going slump next to you.

without noticing yourself, a corner of your lip curling up as the words to your work began to come back on your mind, your fingers working its way to type on your computer. you found a little bit of comfort in defiance of the stiffness and exhaustion of your muscles, trying your best not wake the other.

with him there, it was enough. with him beside you, it’s more than just enough.

thus you continued to work, with thoughts of how you’d sleep on kenma’s lap while he’s gaming a little bit later the moment he wakes up. just like usual, even in the difference of your waking states, you two still kept each other company.

despite having no conversation or obligation to do so, it became like an unspoken rule to keep the other from feeling lonely. because even in the darkest of nights and the brightest of days, you're there for him, and he's there for you.

and that alone was enough to go through the day, even at 1AM, where everyone else was sound asleep. at least, you have kenma here, right beside you.

#kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma x you #haikyuu x reader #kenma oneshots #fluffvember 2020 #fluffvember

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