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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 149: A Very Frosty Christmas

It looked like a paper chain explosion in here, there was a garden gnome painted solid gold with a tu-tu on top of the tree, and a very annoying song was blasting from a radio, but they all fought back a sob of relief to find themselves in the Burrow's living room. Nothing had nearly tried to kill Harry here!

Most of them landed on the many available couches and chairs, Regulus had smacked against the frost covered window, Remus had nearly landed in the lit fire. Lily was misfortunate enough to nearly have said tree wobble dangerously and nearly crash down on her until Potter was there, supporting its massive weight and getting many decorations in his face as she fell the rest of the way to the floor in exhaustion.

Madam Pomfrey would normally have them all on half a dozen potions to revitalize their energy and doing hourly check ups to make sure there were no ill side effects as well as feeding three square meals a day and making absolutely sure they were getting their rest with zero strenuous activity; getting flung around the universe was the opposite of what all of them needed right now.

Alice rushed over and helped Lily back to her feet as James finished straightening up the tree, trying to guide her towards the kitchen and up the stairs for the rooms, but Lily stubbornly dug in her heels and looked up. The book was resting near the top, it hadn't fallen out of the branches.

"We need to take a break hun," Alice pleaded just as much for her own sanity as her friends.

"I know," she promised, "I don't want to finish, I do not want to leave here yet. Just down to the last few paragraphs...just in case." She visibly exhaled, breathing really was a luxury she didn't indulge in enough.

"Ah," James nodded in understanding, and no one was going to deny her paranoia right now. He jumped without further ado, snatching the silver spine where the little green six was almost invisible amongst the fir needles, but wobbled as he landed and leaned against the tree for support now.

She watched with a heavy heart, had she not managed to heal the rest of his leg?

Shaking it off like nothing had happened, he flipped over the couch and landed next to Sirius, who was still sprawled from his original landing half off as he watched his little brother shake his hair back into place like looking at a photo of himself doing it, one mum and dad would never dream of taking after what he'd just done...Merlin he'd never respected that kid more than right now.

"A Very Frosty Christmas!" Prongs said with all the cheerfulness in the world for the dreary title.

Alice whispered for anyone, "would someone at least like something to eat then? Helps not to sleep on an empty stomach."

"Darling come sit down," Frank pleaded, especially when Lily visibly grimaced and rubbed at her stomach. She still waited until Lily curled up in the warmest chair by the fire and watched maternally as Regulus stumbled to the nearest couch, barely sitting on the edge before going to Frank's arms and listening as Harry recanted to Ron what he'd heard.

At least nothing too memorable in the following bit happened, just some normal Christmas cheer, the Marauders were even too exhausted to react to the fun idea of throwing knives at each other! Even Lupin making another friendly appearance felt like a pleasant thing, at first.

It didn't remain that way when Remus began defending Snape!

James looked up wearily from the book to his Moony sitting on the hearth, his somber look as he gazed into the flickering embers and twiddling with his wand to lower the music from moments ago replaced with one of pure loathing at all Snivilus had done to Harry and Sirius in this future, even Remus himself to some degree. The explanation, that all it had taken was Dumbledore's word and some potion would have sounded pathetic to him if it came from anyone else in the world but one of his best friends, who no longer had anyone in this future.

"Was that all it took to win you over?" Sirius asked, trying very hard not to frown at Moony but instead put in another joke. "All those Animagus years for nothing, just had to get you a bloody potion!"

"Don't say that Padfoot," was all Remus had in him to whisper, clamping his hands so tight in front of him he looked as if he were trying to stop from strangling something, like himself. Sirius and James had always been there for him when it mattered, he must have gone barmy without them!

Sirius finally sat up proper from his wonky position on the couch and kept watching in greater concern as Harry changed the subject by asking what he'd been out doing this whole time.

The answer made said werewolf jump to his feet and watch the book like his pants had been set on fire. "I'm what!" He'd never even met another of his kind, and he was out there living with them! He'd infiltrated and been living with other werewolves?! For how long!? This entire time, away from Sirius and Harry and everyone, all because Dumbledore had told him to?!

Sirius got up uneasily and went to his side, but Remus' angry words from before stopped him from doing anything. 'Privacy' he reminded himself, but it killed him to just stand here and do nothing as Moony watched Prongs read like it was his eulogy in the following deadly silence.

The story proceeded like he was being drowned and set on fire all at once, there was no air in here. He felt more immensely hot and uncomfortable in his skin than any transformation he'd yet suffered. His father had offended the worst of them all and Remus had paid the price. Now he was working under Greyback to try and convince others they had a chance at a decent life when he clearly wasn't even living that.

James couldn't take it anymore, he'd apologize to Evans later. He slammed the book shut and threw it with deadly accuracy, watching it sail out the window into the snow beyond like that would somehow dispel what he was watching his friend go through once more.

"You didn't know?" Alice easily deduced, watching the child in that photo scream as a monster made its minion in real life on his face.

He shook his head slowly in answer and then went outside into the cold December night, slamming the door behind him, the rest of the loose glass fell from the window.

Sirius bolted after him before the first snowflake had even fluttered in, dogging his path and assuring himself when Remus didn't turn around and yell at him to leave he'd done alright this time, he hadn't said or done anything in front of the others so this should be okay, even if it had been just as awful to see Moony like that as it had been Evans. He knew exactly how useless Prongs felt now. It didn't feel right to have done so though, not when Remus had so clearly needed...

He'd barely rounded the low garden wall before he finally whirled around and watched Sirius approach him. The weary look on Padfoot's face peaked his anger at himself, he really was destined to screw up every part of his life from the moment he'd been bitten. He just wanted the noise in his head to stop!

Remus' fingers were already like ice as he reached out and cupped his face, tears of anger or fear Sirius didn't know were frozen in place as he leaned in. He kissed him back with all the warmth in him even as he was pressed into a frozen branch and felt the icicles in his hair.

Moony pulled back still breathing in his face, the wild look only just abated as he spat, "Greyback! I have spent half my life pitying sodding Fenrir Greyback! I'm, what, supposed to be some sort of- no wonder my dad never lets me around anyone! Dumbledore's always kept an eye on me, it's a miracle that mutt hasn't come for me yet! Merlin Sirius, I don't know what to do, I don't want to- I can't-"

It wasn't just a nameless, faceless other like him to feel sorrow for on some accident. He was a pawn in a game he didn't even know was being played!

"You're not going anywhere Remus," Sirius stated, holding his hands in place, despite the fact they still seemed to be getting colder. He was trembling so hard it wouldn't surprise Sirius if he did transform.

"It was bad enough before!" His hot breath on his face was the only alive part of him, the rest of him was still glacially reacting, even he didn't seem to know if he was more afraid of this sudden development or angry at it. "I don't even want to go back anymore Sirius! I know we keep almost dying and shit, but I don't okay! Back there it'll, it'll be-" and he leaned in and kissed him again like he thought it would be his last.

His hands were in that long dark hair he loved so much, if he was hurting Sirius with as feverishly as he pressed into him Padfoot never tried to stop him, only pulled him in closer.

He'd stormed out here with a mad idea of being able to get far enough away he'd travel back in time enough to transform, wishing for it for the first time in his life just to get out of the screams of his youth that echoed in his head. The curse Greyback had set upon him would be the downfall of that monstrosity, he'd never change back until he returned the favor in kind and ripped his throat out!

Not with Sirius along though, he'd never risk having Padfoot in that fight, he would get himself killed. It was a simple fact in his mind then, to keep him pinned like this instead.

Nothing lasts forever.

When the anger was spent and the two watched each other to see what would happen next, Remus begged of him the only thing he could ask in this mess. "Sirius, please- please don't tell James about this," his voice was stuttering, but not from cold. If Padfoot told James, then the dream would be shattered, he couldn't just go back to pretending this would all be okay anymore. If James knew, if anyone else knew, Remus would have to wake up to the reality of this horrible future pressing him from all sides. A secret only worked so long as you didn't have to look at what was being hidden.

Sirius watched him for a long time with such sorrow in his eyes, for him he knew. He just wanted to help. He reached up and touched his neck, but Remus took it in both of his hands.

"I don't understand. Privacy, I know, I really am trying to get it, but- " Sirius sighed, watching Remus crush his hand in both of his and still not pulling away even as miserable as it was clearly making him when he agreed. "I won't tell, but I wish you would Remus, I really do."

The fright stayed at bay, only frozen for now, but he had no delusions that would last this time. Winter came and went like everything, and he'd melt into a puddle without them. He didn't know what to do though, he felt trapped. He never should have indulged this, but it was too late for that! He probably would have exploded long ago if he hadn't had this now.

If he tried pulling back, Sirius noticed and only started asking questions. If he admitted his crush now and Sirius didn't reciprocate in any meaningful way, who knew how awkward and distant he'd get. They'd still be friends, he knew they'd never abandon him for full moons at the very minimum, but like Sirius was only half-heartedly trying with Peter now, and he couldn't live with that!

It might even be better when they got back to school, Sirius would get distracted and maybe Remus could just go back to pretending like this never happened...if he was very, very non observant about where Sirius went with others ever again, and maybe tried seeing other people a bit more...or even kept himself busy hunting down Greyback...the distance would just become natural then. Like all unreciprocated feelings...

Instead he said nothing and just nodded, like he was conveying as much as he could right now he'd get there. He just didn't know where 'there' was. He released Sirius' hand, but Sirius just pulled him back into a hug, not saying a word as Remus buried his face in his neck like he could hide in his hair forever.

Eventually though Moony's shaking got so bad Sirius pleaded in his ear for them to go back inside, which Remus mercifully nodded to. The book had not resumed thankfully, and as Sirius peeked out first he even still saw it sitting right there in the snow. Holding his breath in hope, they crossed back over the threshold in relief to see the others asleep.

There were only three in front of the warm fire. Alice and Frank had gone off to Arthur and Molly's room, Lily to sleep in Percy's, and the other boys to pile around on the many available couches and chairs in here.

James watched Peter and Regulus curl up with many available throw blankets on the couches, but watched Sirius' little brother flip his hair around as he got comfortable and pat down the fluffy arm into a comfortable sort of pillow in mild fascination. It was the opposite of Sirius, who could fall asleep in any position on any surface. James whispered something he knew he'd owed the kid back in the other room. "Thanks, for Evans."

Regulus watched him for a few moments before actually shrugging, like he hadn't started this whole thing wishing them all dead. James couldn't even make the joke he'd done it for his own survival of getting out of here, that had been no self preservation, there had been no mistaking the look on his face. "It's what anyone would have done," he said simply enough as he laid out, like he was pretending he wouldn't be booted from his home for saying such a thing. Was he really that far in denial of how the rest of his lineage was? He was asleep before Peter's soft, self deprecating little noise even registered.

"I know Wormtail," James promised. "I hate myself for not reacting better that time too. What would we have done if we all thought of that though, huh? Started wrestling over the bezoar, maybe accidentally swallowed it ourselves?"

Peter gave a soft little laugh just like he always did, but James could hear how forced it was.

"You ever tell anyone it was you who saved us from the basilisk?" James asked curiously, which was a fat lot more good than he'd ever done.

"Like that's some great thing, being bait," Peter shot back quietly. "About as useful as keeping Moony distracted while you get him off. No, Prongs, I don't think anyone's wanted to remember that giant snake long enough to know or care that detail."

"Don't sell yourself so short mate," he scolded as he kept his eyes on the door but stayed in his own chair upright. "We all need to stay on our toes, and you can get us out of a few scrums the rest of us can't."

Peter didn't entirely agree, getting out wasn't the same as being useful, why Regulus was asking him instead of Sirius about that animagus stuff still boggled his mind. Even as on the outs with his brother as he was, it was unbearably obvious who was still the better at magic, even James had unconsciously known the same even if he was nicer about it. He whispered his thanks to Prongs anyways and fell asleep too.

James removed his glasses but only fought off his itching eyes long enough to see them heading back through the repaired window and slip inside. Sirius grabbed the last few available blankets and whispered something in Remus' ear.

Remus couldn't have protested the offer, not now, as Padfoot cocooned the blanket around them both, while Sirius sat against the warm hearth. His head rested on the inside of Sirius' thigh as he shivered and didn't fight back a sob anymore. Sirius just ran his hand gently up and down his back all night while the snow piled into the repaired windows.

He'd kept telling daddy all week there was a monster looking down through his window, but Lyall would just sleepily give his son a kiss and turn another light on for him as he went back to bed. There were three now plus the one in the hall, but there were still shadowy corners in his room. The darkness moved and crept slowly into a shape. Not quite human, and not quite animal, naked in the bare light of the full moon, skin twitching in anticipation and pleasure as the monster licked his lips, the sores and blood caked into every crease of his hairy face. Remus screamed but the cracking bones drowned him out-

He groaned softly as the arms held him and whispered in his ear before easing off. He didn't know what was said, but he believed it.

The bite did not come, two distinct shapes fought the animal off, back away from him... but there was something wet, dripping on him, blood?

Drip. Drip.

Cracking one blurry eye open, he found himself hugging a pillow on the floor in a cocoon of blankets that still felt warm, but James' smug expression was hovering over him, and his heart thudded in confusion as another warm plop fell on his nose.

"Up and attem Moony! You know I'll sit on you if you don't."

"Why do I put up with you?" He groaned, rolling over and burying his face into the pillow. The next drip hit the back of his neck and he moaned, moving one hand sluggishly to brush at the slightly sticky feeling.

"You mean besides my charms, good looks, and masterful Quidditch skills?" He asked, before continuing said threat and sitting on his back.

Remus groaned louder and muffled a cry for help that went ignored, there was only a slight lull in voices not too far off in the background and a barking laugh. "You're awful at Charms, your hair is a laughing stock, and your humbleness could topple mountains!" He shot back as he tried to wiggle out.

"At least you know not to diss the important details," James nodded in approval as he got up, now offering him a hand.

Remus took it with still scrunched up eyes, finally seeing in his other hand a warm glass of eggnog he was no longer trying to torture him with. His eyes blinked fuzzily for a moment in confusion though as he saw what he had on.

"Got you a present!" James crowed, throwing a partially wrapped gift his face caught.

"Stealing Weasley sweaters now? Have you no shame?" He asked warmly as he unwrapped the maroon one and shrugged it on, it even fit rather well.

"None whatsoever. I told Sirius that would fit," James grinned, "bean pool you two are."

"Unlike yours," he chuckled. The bright pink material was stretched tightly over his shoulders, his arms looked like he'd tapped bits of wood on they were so stiff and wouldn't bend right, the edge would not quite reach his waist as it should. The golden G was stretched comically into something closer to a Q.

"Evans won't be able to keep her eyes off of me!" He said grandly, before wincing a bit and finally dropping some of the enthusiasm. He'd done this as planned, Moony was smiling at the sight of the absurdity. Sirius had certainly been all for it when he'd woken up and seen him still hovering over Remus like he hadn't slept at all. What had come out of his mouth had been pure autopilot and hadn't even occurred to him until now.

"She's alright Prongs," Remus said at once. "I know she'd never hold it against you, nobody saw that coming."

"Yeah," he muttered, watching the door to the noisy kitchen still for several moments before swallowing and making a very painful smile, "first time that woman's ever flirted with me and I get her poisoned. Think that's the cosmic universe telling me to drop it?"

"You did no such thing," Remus said firmly now, sighing in relief when James dragged his eyes back to him. "If Sirius and I had drank that in Slughorn's room, we'd have been dead before anyone even knew what happened. You probably saved all of our lives by being a nosy git Prongs."

He'd winced for the blunt statement, but gave himself a firm shake and a real smile again. "Stop distracting me Moony!" He scolded with a fond clap on the shoulder that made a tear appear under his armpit and steering him towards the others now. "Alice is making a feast in there, and she's threatened if we don't all help, we starve."

"That woman wouldn't let Snape go hungry," he scoffed.

"I wouldn't test her," James chuckled, "she's already at her limit trying to convince Sirius to lift a wand."

"Poor thing has no idea what she's getting herself into," Remus said in genuine pity. Padfoot would eat a meal of grubs before he admitted he had no idea how to do any house-hold spells.

They entered to see she'd found a compromise though. He looked exhausted, but he was utterly delighted to be smashing parsnips the Muggle way and trying not to get any on his blue sweater, also with a golden G imprinted on it that was far too large around the shoulders and bagged under his arms, leaving him having to concentrate with effort. He was doing a remarkably poor job of that and making a great mess.

Peter and Regulus were sitting across from him casually enough with no clear tension in the air as Regulus guided his wand carefully to knead some dough and Peter was cutting up vegetables the Muggle way, stopping occasionally to use a silver sweater as a dishrag, the glint of the golden P on it flashing in and out of focus. Remus' heart twinged why Molly had still bothered for the prat before eagerly jumping in to help, offering to make dessert.

They ate in alternating comfortable quiet and soft mutters. The shock of 'yesterday' still felt heavy in the room, and Sirius cleaned his third plate in record time and could not take any more silence right now. He looked up with every intention of making a joke at Prongs, only for his eyes to land on Evans.

She was running her finger over the rim of her still full drink, a mountain of uneaten food on her plate with barely a bite touched. Alice kept shooting her worried looks and even reached over past Frank at one point to teasingly steal a bit of turkey. Lily had laughed and tried to keep eating, but it was clear her stomach nor heart was really in it.

Sirius slugged back the rest of his own drink, refilled it, and then set it in front of her with a very teasing, "don't worry, I didn't spike it."

She grimaced and felt herself turn a little green around the edges, but sighed when she saw him wince. She knew he'd been trying to make her laugh, but she still felt tender on the inside even looking at the food, let alone anything liquid again.

Frank glowered at him and opened his mouth to say something at her side, even taking his arm off the back of Alice's chair to straighten up, but his girlfriend brushed her nails along his spine in a silent urge to wait. Sirius was trying to help, in his way, and she really hoped it worked as their patient silence hadn't.

Sirius reached over and plucked it away again with a cheerful, "oh I know! You're the Queen of the Slug Club, so you need a royal tester first! How could I forget?" He took a noisy slurp, making sure to let some run down his chin so there's no way he could fake it before setting down the now half empty glass in front of her, and smiled. It softened his features so much it was remarkable.

"As if I want to drink your backwash," she half-heartedly scolded, but Sirius smiled wider to see she'd lost the nauseous look at least as she stared back.

He tipped his feet up on the table and rocked for a few moments as he kept eyeing her, before grinning with that mischievous look she used to loath so much. He let himself fall back to all fours then and leaned in conspiratorially now, "bet you a shot of it I can make Peter laugh with just one word."

Evans pursed up her lips, but he'd guessed right. She could not resist a challenge. Guess she was a bit like Prongs. "Alright," she finally agreed.

Sirius was grinning in triumph already as he turned with maddening timing, Wormtail had just started taking a sip of his own drink as Sirius shouted, "Spoons!"

The poor guy coughed and spluttered half his drink out his nose and down his front, the rest of the glass ruined the sweater. Even as Regulus thumped him on the back and offered him napkins with a disgruntled look, it was clear to all Peter was laughing mirthlessly.

"Padfoot!" He moaned while rubbing at his face. "You swore you'd stop doing that!"

"Eggnog was not in the terms of our agreement!" He happily barked back.

"Add it to the list you arse!" He snickered.

Lily cursed softly, she should have known better, but turned back to him very curiously, "you swear that's not some old hex on him?"

"On my wand," he said at once, crossing his heart. "Marauders swear!"

"Then what's the joke?" She finally asked with a bit of a giggle.

"Uh uh, pay up first," he tapped the drink. "The story's worth another shot."

She sighed, swallowed her sense of disgust for the feeling of anything going down her throat again, and picked up the glass while meeting his eyes. Fighting back a gag, she threw it in her mouth, forced the rich flavor to sit on her tongue for a visible moment, and down the hatch it went. She exhaled and tried not to look at anybody as the tension began easing out of the room, she really hadn't thought the others noticed.

"Atta girl," he beamed. "Round two?"

"Yes, alright," she agreed at once this time.

Sirius threw his shoulders back with pride as he took off, "okay, so Christmas time last year right? We were still working on our Animagus bits, and Prongs here got his antlers stuck on his head, happened all the time, but we had Quidditch practice and he was trying really hard to get them back away. Wormtail though got the bright idea to dare challenge me to try decorating them in the meantime! I couldn't let that stand!"

"He's being literal," James nodded with a resigned sigh. "I think he'd explode otherwise." He paused with an odd look on his face, but Sirius grinned at him as always for the add in, nothing like extra details to make a story!

"So we start running around the room grabbing everything we could to put on him, socks and shit, Pete starts jabbing old homework assignments on him like mock papier-mâché while James is cursing us blue in the face, but I grabbed up," he paused for dramatic effect. They were all smiling in anticipation now. "A spoon! So, couldn't just chuck it, that wouldn't be any fun-"

"Oh the horrors," James interrupted lightly, crossing his arms and making a visible tear line on both sleeves which he didn't even seem to notice.

"And I couldn't magic it on, that would be cheating!"

"Something he's never done on his life," James smirked.

"So I licked it, and it actually stuck to the fuzzy bits!"

He preened in delight as the seven of them all got a laugh at that mental image. Lily obligingly sipped her drink once more, but Sirius wasn't quite done. "Peter laughed hysterically, I can't even describe it right, he pissed himself and it was glorious!"

"Did you have to add that bit," he protested back. "Two shots says I can get them all to laugh at the time you got fleas!"

Sirius spluttered in protest, but Lily shushed him and watched with delight. The game escalated, they started piling the last of the food into one bowl to make a huge mess of turkey and pudding and daring others to eat it if they laughed at the next story. James was so enthusiastic while telling about Moony meeting a centaur he ripped Ginny's sweater entirely and had to shrug on Fred's before they'd let him finish. It fit him even worse than Sirius and seemed to swallow him whole and he did not care. They all failed miserably and ate the concoction, which wasn't arguably that bad.

All full and laughing now, Remus finally gave Sirius a soft kick to get him to stop that and volunteered to go back to the book with only the barest hint of unease still in his voice. Sirius still didn't get up until after he and James did and fought the urge to put his hand on Moony's back as he went after them.

They lounged semi-comfortably once more under blankets in front of the fire, and Remus still made no real protest as he sat under the same blanket with him, backs on the wall right next to the fire while James went outside to fetch the book. Sirius had resisted the urge to throw his arm over the back of the chair half the meal as they got comfortable and been discreet with his hand on his knee, petting gently with only his finger tips. James had noticed no such thing on his other side, eyes still on Evans even as he tried to actively pretend otherwise now.

He let his hand creep gently, the thick blanket made it non-obvious he was sure, aware of every movement, but nobody was purposely looking at them. It was a miracle none of them had asked any further questions, and whether it was lingering awkwardness or pity neither of them were going to ask as Sirius put his hand gently back on his leg.

Remus made a huffy little noise, but it was that indulgent sigh he always used right before he added into their prank as he grabbed Sirius' hand, but held it this time so Sirius couldn't start up again. It had been soothing at first, but then putting ungentlemanly thoughts in his head the longer it went on, and he didn't really buy the others would let them just casually go snog out in the snow again.

Sirius gave a remorseless grin and happily interwove their fingers. Then he saw Alice and Frank doing the same thing and pulled his hand back with a quick apology, earning a bizarre look. Shit, he still had no idea what boundaries Remus was after, and he'd never spent this much time around someone after so much repeated physical intimacy. Remus bunched up the blanket around them and stretched uncomfortably, they only had moments left as Prongs came back in dusting snow off the book and himself as he leaned in and whispered, "alright?" Touching his hand to be clear, though he'd crossed his arms with an aggrieved look so he was probably an idiot for asking. It was the only comfort he could still think to offer him though.

He received a spectacular snort for his efforts and Remus actually smiling as James flipped to the chapter while he said, "yes Padfoot," perfectly normally, turning his palm to meet him with his own curious amusement.

"Just checking," he muttered as Remus shifted again, the blanket barely moving with him as he dropped his arms and held his hand under it again with a delighted smile.

He hadn't protested when Sirius did this at Hermione's place, but he'd been so annoyed back in the apothecary when he'd casually touched him then, and he was starting to get a headache keeping track of when this was and wasn't allowed. Did a door have to be closed? That's when he was most comfortable. He had not liked the way Moony had talked out in that garden, a distance he kept trying to intermittently instill between them or something else altogether, but he couldn't ask now.

Sirius burned to ask if Remus was ashamed to be with him in that way, but feared asking would only make Remus fluently deny it and pull away further, something that felt intolerable to him now.

James had reacted right before his son had spoken up, so the very first thing he read was Harry unintentionally and almost repeating one of their very many werewolf jokes, his son practically saying Moony's furry little problem, and then Professor Lupin getting a good laugh out of it. The Marauders got a particularly cheerfully snicker for that one at least.

"And nobody really questions that?" Frank finally asked in amusement. He admittedly hadn't before everything as well, but they'd been dealing with a lot.

"I know I never thought about them long enough to do so," Lily shrugged. "Far as I know, nobody in the common room thinks twice about it."

"You're not exactly the social butterfly though Evans," Sirius cheerfully reminded. She flipped him the bird, and he laughed so hard the blanket started to fall from his shoulders and he didn't even twitch to put it back up.

"Peter keeps an ear out if anyone does look twice," Remus half heartedly explained the rest.

It still wasn't comfortable to any of the four of them to be explaining this, it had been their secret for too long to feel natural, but sharing so many of their stories had helped ease that away, and nobody asked for more. Thankfully the subject was changed to a horrible dream being the last of the real unpleasantness. Then Harry woke up to presents, with Ron getting a remarkable necklace from Lavender, and what should have been a nice meal before Percy and the Minister showed up.

That did not go well, and they all shifted and grumbled unpleasantly for the Ministry still trying to use Harry as some sort of poster boy after all he'd been through last year. James finished with an ugly twist of his lips even as he cheered for his son getting the final word in.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #HBP #Weasley Chirstmas #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #all in the family

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jacks-jester · 4 years

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My Love.

[Phoenix! Joker x Reader] angsty but ends with fluff

Words: 3,193

Warnings: Angsty, abandonment trauma, sexual harassment, mentions of murder, mentions of attempted sexual assault/rape. (This is a pretty heavy piece, nothing super explicit though)

Summary: After three years, you run into the man you had abandoned all those years ago. He was never the Joker to you though, to you he was always Arthur- your love, your one and only. What happens when he reunites with you for the first time post killing Murray? What happens when it seems the person you left has disappeared.

A/N~ This took me literally all day to type up, I kept revising it and fixing it up. I think I portrayed Arthur a bit better but still would like to work on him more, I feel I can do better in the future. Once again, Requests are open for fics/drabbles/hcs. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

It had been three years since you had last spoken to Arthur, three years since you two had slept together, three years since you had left him. It was no secret that the two of you had your fair share of mental issues, but maybe that's what had balanced you two out so well. You both understood each other, truly saw one another, when either one of you had an episode or a fit, the other would know the perfect way to calm the situation down. However, there were downsides to Arthur and your relationship. The main issue though, was both of your shared insecurities. The two of you both thought you weren’t worthy of one another, though you would both combat each others thought constantly.

It was painful leaving him, but you had done it and the second it was done, you couldn’t find the guts to go back. You and Arthur had been neighbors for years, the two of you always sharing light conversations in the elevator, eventually the light conversation grew into a friendship, and soon after a relationship. You are Arthur had always been a match made in heaven, always being there for each other and ensuring the other was supported at all times. He was the only person you felt who truly saw you, and likewise to him - some things are just too good to last you always told yourself.

You had left shortly after your 2 year anniversary, after a night spent in each others arms, the two of you staying up until you were exhausted, relishing in the feeling of each others bodies. Arthur always had a habit of falling asleep after making love, always seeming most at ease in the moments afterwards. You figured it was due to the fact he felt content, secure, and cared for in those moments - his deepest insecurities buried away temporarily. It was that night as you stayed awake, fingers gently combing through his brown hair that you truly took him in. He was perfection in every sense of the words - his hair soft and fluffy to the touch, his cheeks hollowed out which only made his jaw and cheekbones that much more chiseled, he was skinny - to a point some might be scared of his form, but to you he was absolute artwork, every nook and cranny etched in your mind, his emerald eyes were always full of love and admiration when he looked at you no matter how difficult the day had been. Your favorite thing about him though was his carefree laugh, his real ones, not the kind the racked his body, his throat closing as the cackles were forced out due to discomfort.

In that moment your insecurities rang in your head on repeat, unable to tear your gaze from the man you loved so deeply. He was everything someone could ask for, and you had no doubt he was the only person out there for you, the only person who would ever understand you, the only person in the entirety of this wretched world that would love you unconditionally. He always had such a big heart, and you knew from the moment you had first seen him that he was the one for you. Deep in your subconscious though, your monsters whispered venom into your mind.

‘He’s too good for you. You could never give him what he deserve. He’s only settled for you, and now you’re holding him back from what he deserves. He could find someone so much better than you, you’re suffocating him from that opportunity. You’re not his one, even if you wish you could be.’

Your illness had won that night, tearing you away from your home, from happiness, from him. You didn’t spare a second glance as you packed a few of your personal belongings in one of his work duffel bags, pushing a decent amount of cash into the bag, left your key on the counter, and left with not so much as a note. You had taken the first bus out of town, trying your best to settle a life outside of Gotham, as far from him as possible. You never dated anyone else, unable to find attraction or comfort in anyone but him - always comparing the people you met to him. You found yourself worse off than when you left, but hoped he would find someone better for him. There were several times you had to force yourself to not run back - too ashamed of what he might think, even more scared you’d find him with a new life, despite the fact that it was what you had wanted in the first place.

Three years had passed, scrounging for money, trying to find work, attempting to find some remnants of the happiness you had felt before you’d left. By a sick twist of fate, you had found yourself back in Gotham - Gotham being the only place you could find decent work. A week. That's all it took for you to regret taking the job. You were working as a bank teller, your boss was an absolute pompous snob, your coworkers were perverted, and the customers were absolutely horrific. You bared with it though, knowing this was one of your last real opportunities for a steady job. The entirety of Gotham drained your energy completely when you lived here; so in an attempt to maintain some of your sanity and positivity, you avoided the news at all cost. In Gotham, the news brought nothing but negative things to dampen anyone's day.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It was another lousy day at work, dealing with customers who were idiots, dealing with groping and harassment from your coworkers, your boss seeming to constantly look for an excuse to fire you. You were nearing the end of your shift when it happened, protestors had moved up the city after being confronted with police aggression downtown. These weren’t the peaceful type though, these were the kind hell bent on causing as much chaos and damage as possible. A good part of you sided with them, understanding their outrage at the unfair treatment towards the less unfortunate of Gotham, towards the kind of people you and Arthur were. Even now, you had to forge documents to get your job, knowing any sign of mental illness would immediately erase any chance you had at securing a job.

You watched as people in clown masks flooded the streets as night began to fall, the glass doors of the bank allowing you a full view of the riots. Cars were set aflame, a few more confrontational protestors smashing the glass of the bank doors and windows, the city was screaming. The anguish and anger radiated off the mob like wildfire, their shouting echoing through the streets outside the bank. You knew it was only a matter of time until they would begin robbing the bank, hoarding the money they could secure. You opted to leave the second you shift ended, wanting to keep as far away from the damage as possible, just go home and sleep.

You secured a few of your belongings, tossing your bag over your shoulder as you headed out the backdoor, sparing a last glance at the building crowd. You let out a sigh as you began walking away from large white building, knowing it was fastest to take the back alleys to get to the buses. The alleys were smothered in fog and smoke, the moldy air clinging to your lungs with each breath your took in, you hated it here. You had nearly reached the end of the alleys when you were harshly grabbed by the arm, thrown against a wall soon afterwards. Your head buzzed as you tried to ground yourself, your eyes clenched shut as your pulse frenzied, anxiety quickly beginning to overtake you.

Upon opening your eyes, you were met with the figures of three men in clown masks, their statures towering over you. You knew this wasn’t going to end well for you, that was one thing Arthur had always worried about - there were too many stories of girls being found dead in alleyways after a mishap walking home. You watched them closely, the middle one of the three holding a knife out towards you, the blade less than a foot from your face. You could hear their deranged laughter, giddy at the sight of you so helpless as your eyes flicked around wildly, like a animal cornered by predators, aware of the fact you were prey. They were like hyenas, stalking the meat they so desperately craved, knowing nobody would bat an eye if you were to turn up dead the next morning, knowing they could easily get away with it with no repercussions in sight.

You let out a muffled scream as one of them clapped a hand over your mouth, the other two making their way towards you, hands already reaching out to strip you of your clothes. You pinched your eyes shut, preparing for what you knew was coming, knowing nobody was around to help, knowing you had nobody who would mourn you. While your eyes were clenched shut you couldn’t help but try to ground yourself from the onslaught of panic, trying to think of happy things - though only one thing came to mind. Arthur. Not a day had gone by that you didn’t miss his company, longed to hear his laugh and feel his arms around you, wished for the way he’d look at you, actually seeing you with unprecedented love and admiration. Artie.

While your cries were muffled and salty tears poured down your face, you and your attackers had failed to notice a presence approaching the four of you. You jolted as three gunshots rang out, the bangs resonating off the narrow alley walls. Your ears rang due to the close proximity of the gunfire, the touch you had been dreading never coming, instead you could hear bodies falling to the ground with sickening thuds, the hand over your mouth immediately releasing as another thud sounded from beside you. You didn’t dare open your eyes as tears continued to pour down your cheeks, streamlines running down your paled face.

You jumped lightly as the new intruder gently kicked your foot in order to get you to look at them, upon opening your eyes you were greeted with a white handkerchief. You had yet to look at your protector, grabbing the handkerchief with a choked out thank you. While drying your tears, you were greeted with the familiar scent of cigarette smoke, coming from the person directly in front of you. He wasn’t what you’d pictured he’d look like. He had emerald green hair, a crimson suit which comfortably hugged his body, a green nearly teal button up, and a mustard vest. He stood comfortably, one hand tucked in his pants pocket while the other held a cigarette between his lips, the pale alley light casting an ethereal glow around him.

After a moment of looking away, he turned to face you, a hand going out to help you up. He didn’t say anything in that moment, simply beckoning for you to stand. Due to the dim lighting and the fact your were shrouded in darkness, you were surprised he had hit his targets and not accidentally hit you. You doubted he could see who you were in the darkness, you hand shakily grabbed his as you made your way to stand in front of him. You released his hand the moment you were up, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear as you tried to compose yourself. “Thank you.” You were frozen the moment you looked up to thank him, your eyes meeting his own.

There's no way this could be real, you could feel rushed panic closing up your throat, your airways denying you air as the realization of who was standing in front of you hit you. You could see the glimmer of recognition cross his eyes, though his face as a whole remained unphased. You always could read him, even if he remained stoic. “A-Arthur?” You could see his eyes shift slightly as if he had something to say but swallowed it, “Go catch your bus.” He murmured it loud enough for you to hear before turning on his heel to leave you behind in the alleyway, the same way you did to him all those years ago - without a second glance.

You couldn’t stop yourself as you rushed forward to grab his wrist, “W-wait! Please. I just... I need...” He stopped walking, not turning to face you as his body tensed under your touch. You let out a small hum, your mind reeling as you attempted to find the words you so desperately wanted to say. You needed to know that he was happy, that's all you needed to move on with your life. “I-... Please just tell me you’re alright. That you’re happy, that you’ve found someone deserving of you.” A dry laugh escaped his lips at your words. “Everything is absolutely peachy. Haven’t you seen it? The cities burning and I’m a high class criminal.” His sarcasm rang through the air, your eyes bubbling with tears at the familiar feeling of his skin on yours. You lowered your head downwards as emotions and anxiety coursed through your veins, overtaking your mind. “I’m so, so sorry Artie.”

You could feel him tense at the use of the nickname, his tendons bulging in his wrist, his fist subconsciously clenching in response. You could feel the sick feeling of bile rising in your stomach as an onslaught of words poured out of your mouth all at once. “I didn’t want to hurt you, you deserve everything this world has to offer and I couldn’t and can’t offer you that. You need someone who isn't a wreck, someone with a solid job, a nice place, someone who is deserving of your love. That person isn’t me, even if I’d like it to be. I thought it would be best if I just disappeared, gave you the freedom to find the happiness and life you deserve.”

You were surprised when he whipped around his own chin shaking with emotion, although your weren’t sure if it was sadness, anger, resentment, maybe a combination of the three. His voice came out low at first, gradually raising in volume as his emotions climbed. “You don’t get to be sorry. I’d be happy if it weren’t for what you did, none of this would have happened.” Deep inside him, Arthur knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t help it as confusing rage bubbled inside him. Never in the 2 years of being with Arthur, did you ever see him angry, he never raised his voice, and even when he was upset he put on a happy face for your sake, never wanting to worry you or hurt you unintentionally.

You could feel yourself breaking down at his words, the tone of his voice successfully slicing through you like the stroke of a hot knife on butter. “I thought I was helping you by cutting you off. I’m not worth your time or affections, I never have been. You deserve so much more than what I can give you Arthur. Believe me when I say I love you more than life itself Arthur but I couldn’t be the one who held you back from finding someone who deserves you.” You looked up to him, his eyes catching yours as you both remained silent, the tension between you two thick enough to cut through. You couldn’t say you were surprised when his hand gently shook you off, retreating to his side. You watched closely as his green eyes met yours, and for the first time you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, several emotions flicking across his gaze faster than you could register.

You watched as he raised his hand slowly towards you, his hand hesitating before landing on your cheek. It was strange, you’d seen the photos of this man standing before you, heard small talk of the “Joker”, he had a terrifying reputation among the elite you were surrounded by at the bank. Yet still, this was your Arthur. Sure his appearance changed, he was more bold, but just the way his eyes shone showed that he was in fact the same man you remembered. He still held the soft gaze you were so familiar with, even in his upset state. You didn’t blame him, you could only imagine what your reaction would be if the roles were reversed. You’d be heartbroken, unsure what to do with your life - though you supposed you were heartbroken when you left and didn’t know what you were doing with your life even in the present.

His touch was enough to calm the onslaught of tears that rushed down your face, relaxing as you thought about the care he maintained as his thumb gently brushed away the spare tears. “Is that really why you left?” His eyes bore into you, searching desperately for an answer as his uncertainty came through in his tone. You furrowed your eyebrows as his eyes stayed in contact with yours, confusion flashing through your eyes. “Of course it is, why else would I leave? You were the only positive thing I had going for me, I wouldn’t mindlessly throw something so precious to me to the side.” You watched as the ghost of a smile quirked at the edges of his lips, forming the small smile you’d seen so many times while watching Murray with him late at night.

Without another word his face came down to meet yours, his hand gripping your jaw tightly as his lips melded against yours. Instinctually your eyes closed, your hands coming to rest against his lean chest as he pulled you closer to him. His scent flooded your senses, the smell of cigarettes, cheap cologne, clothing detergent, and a new foreign smell, the faintest scent of gunpowder lingered on his clothing. His lips were perfectly suited to yours as the kissed deepened, this new Arthur being bolder than the one you’d left behind, his tonguing sipping into your mouth as he spread his red greasepaint across you lips.

You pulled away only to catch your breath, your hands not leaving his chest as he opened his eyes slowly, the green of his eyes gleaming in the dim alley lighting. “ Artie I can’t, you have to under-” He cut you off, pressing his finger to your lips. “That's is for me to decide doll, I need you beside me, not anyone else. You are my one and only, if you want me to be happy, then come home.” You looked up at him with confliction in your eyes but you knew your mind was made up the moment you caught a glimpse of Arthur and his adoration for you within his emerald pools. So you spoke 3 simple words, your heart swelling as you took in the beautiful man before you, the man you’d missed for three years, your love and happiness.

“Okay my love.”

#arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #the joker x reader #joker x reader #joaquin phoenix #phoenix!joker #Phoenix! joker x reader #phoenix joker #phoenix joker x reader #joker 2019

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littlewitty · 4 years

Text

The Dizzy Feeling

Ship: Leonardo x MC

Genre: fluff

Warnings: descriptions of sickness

————————————————————

He knew, right?Leonardo had to know. If he did, I felt grateful how he ignored it like I wanted. My head pounded with an unforgiving pain and my body felt light and airy wherever I moved.

“The plates and cutlery, can you place them?” Sebastian queried even though he knew I wouldn’t refuse.

“Yes, definitely, what residents will be eating today, do you know?” I replied, paying no mind to the pain that scratched my throat like sandpaper.

“I believe that tonight Master Vincent, Herr Mozart, Monsieur Napoleon, Sir Issac and Sir Arthur are eating now.” He said casually whilst I grabbed the stack of plates from the cupboard. Tracing my finger up the side of them, I counted quietly, the sound of skin on glass sung like swarm of bees to my overly sensitive hearing. “Vincent’s on his own tonight, then, where’s Theo?” I asked over my shoulder. I could hear Sebastian moving around, back-and-forth, to-and-throe. I could even hear the fabric of his finely tailored suit stretching as he reached out to claim the wooden spoon.

“I do believe he’s at a meeting to set up another exhibition,” he declared as I turned around swiftly. Holding the plates in my arms, I stabilised my self and stepped forward.

Wow.

A spark of dizziness. It stabbed through my mind as little colourful squiggles started to invade my eyesight. Taken back, I took a step backwards slamming my back up against the counters. everything seemed to slow down and all I heard was an ever growing squeak in my ear and the drumming of my heart. Sebastian’s head whipped around and saw my semi-panicked state.

"Are you okay?... ” he barely uttered, whether that volume was him or my failing hearing was left up to me. I could feel heat slither up my body and leave in waves causing me to sweat dramatically. The heat just kept throbbing out of my body as a new enemy appeared. Nausea. I felt sick. Really sick. The pain in my head stole my attention. I kept on imagining someone hitting me on the head again and again, making me panic even more.

“Hey!” A hand on my shoulder started to shake me. A firm, proper grip ,Sebastian, I think...

Letting a shaky breath exit me, I finally regained some sense of sanity. “I need fresh air Sebastian , I -uh- yeah... ” plates still in my arms, I made my way into the Dining room to place them before regaining oxygen. As I entered the room, the casual chit chat consisting of Arthur, Issac and Vincent who were all happily seated at the table waiting for their dinner like hungry children, ceased. I placard the plates down with a small clash and started handing them out, head down. I could feel six pairs of eyes on me, staring at my poor, sorry self. I didn’t want to feel weaker than they are, but most of all I didn’t want to ever be sick. The medicine and health care of this era is questionable and I didn’t want to die from being diagnosed Lead or Mercury or even worse, need Blood-Letting! So I refused to acknowledge my ill state. A Dutch accent was vocalised, ending the silence.

“Hey, MC, are you alright? You seem kind of .... pale.” He stated in a gingerly way. The other two just stared, attempting to deduce my state for themselves. Me? I just wanted to lay the table quickly and retreat outside. “I’m fine, Vincent. It’s just a bit hot in the kitchen right now.” I lied, almost as easy as I could breathe.

“Now, now, my dear MC, I know an ill person when I see them, and you seem to be suffering a lot at this moment in time.” Stated Arthur, so matter-of-factly. All the respect to the man, but damn can that detective in him be annoyingly accurate.

Now with only three plates being cradled like my life line, I came to Issac who had a look of ‘I won’t say anything because you don’t want me to’, at least someone understood. That sudden jab of dizziness caught up to me and I slammed the plates down on the table, feeling it completely consuming me. My heart throbbed and my head felt like it was smashing into a million bricks at one time. A burning feeling rose in my throat.

NO! I can’t be sick in front of them!

I attempted to run to the door, but realised it was impossible, so I scrambled to the farthest point I could get. I got to the end of the table when my weak, shaky legs gave up on me. Still clutching the corner of the table, I forced myself to swallow the nausea. The doors gently opened and the Lord of the mansion walked in and upon inspecting the room, rushed over to me.

“Ma Chérie, what’s wrong?” He crouched down to my level, but I knew it was too late. I attempted to shove him away and turn behind me, but Arthur and Vincent were blocking that way out. Issac remained seated but ready to leap out of his chair if needed, and amongst the commotion, Sebastian had meandered his way back in too, all just staring at me in bewilderment.

I coughed hard. A cough you get before you’re sick...

I hunched over, gagging visibly, knowing I was going to be sick, I turned forward and ...

Silence

Finally, I opened my eyes to the horror. The reason for the silence was instantly justified. I stared down at the floor to Comte’s expensive shoes, which I had just thrown up on.....

SHIT!

Guilt and nervousness, made me gag again. I was going to immediately apologise when a hand on the back of my neck held me in place and another hand was stoking my back. Arthur behind me went all doctor mode and started barking orders...

Soon a felt a comforting and on my shoulder, and I sneaked a peek to see Leonardo’s understanding but stern gaze. It’s that gaze that told me it was going to be alright, but that gaze also questioned why I didn’t tell him about this.

“Shush, Cara, it’s okay Comte understands so save the tears, sí?” The tears of pure guilt rolled down my cheeks. It wasn’t just him. I felt sorry for everyone having to see that. I felt so disgusted by myself. Over Leonardo’s shoulder I spied confused Napoleon and a very disgusted looking Mozart who obviously walked in because of the noise.

Sniffling some more, I leaned into Leonardo as he opened his arms and enveloped me. All I could hear was the silence again as they all stopped and heard my soft whimpers. Then I let the nice feeling of relaxing take me over...

My eyes gently eased open, and the muffled voices soon became clearer. A cold droplet of water ran down my face, and then another one, and again. I slowly raised my hand to feel a cold, wet cloth on my forehead to keep my temperature down most likely. Arthur’s face above me as well as Leonardo standing behind him came into view.

“You’re awake Cara Mia, that’s good, how do you feel?” That Italian accent that I adored so much filled my ears.

“Like I’ve just been hit by a train..” I mumbled, doubting he could hear me.

“Hmm, I see, and with that I suppose that headache of yours hasn’t subsided either or the possible pain in your stomach?” Arthur’s Scottish accent took my focus.

“How did you know about the headache and the stomach pain, I didn’t tell you did I?”

“No, MC but they’re common symptoms for people who were violently sick, especially on Comte’s shoes, hehe,” of course he would tease me. I sighed, I knew I would never live that one down.

“Right, at least a week in bed and obviously no working at all, understood? It’s Dr. Doyle’s orders, you remember that!” He said as he tapped my nose and left the room.

“Huh, why didn’t you tell me Cara?” Asked Leonardo who had recently lit a cigarillo and held it to his lips.

“I was scared,” I whimpered.

“I’ve realised, come here..” lifting the covers behind me, he gently placed himself and wrapped his one arm around me whilst the other held is cigarillo. I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of him blowing out the smoke, creating this godly good scent to resonate in the room.

“Comte’s shoes, what happens after I.. err, Comte’s reaction?” I awkwardly questioned. A breathy laugh erupted from him, a breathy annoying laugh.

“Yeah, through out all the centuries of knowing him, I’ve never seen shock like that on his face. And you realise how it wasn’t just his shoes right?”

Huh?

“It was the bottom of his trousers too, and he just , heheh, stood there, absolutely frozen hahah,” well at least he found it funny, I guess.

Pushing my back into him more, I let the sleep and illness seep in and finally claim the girl it had spent days to conquer.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp comte #ikevamp count #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“SIX IDOLS” – “SPRINT DREAM” (Part 3)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

* Part 01 / Part 02

An hour after the start of "Sprint Dream Live", the heat in the Tsubakimon Dome was visibly increasing. At the same time as the entrance began, a group of fans flowed into the audience seats like a flood, and they began to furnish the place with posters, posters and items with each of the recommended men drawn. At the same time, fans are excited about the upcoming festival and are looking at the stage with shining eyes.

To meet that expectation, a scene similar to a battlefield was unfolding in the backyard of the stage.

"The president has arrived at Shikaido Station! We will move on to Sequence B!"

"The target has been set at point B! We will wait until the president picks it up!"

In the temporary monitor room with the sign "Headquarters for the execution of the president's return plan", a part of the backyard, reports were constantly being raised.

The purpose of this headquarters is to fully support the return of Munakata. The staff involved are elite to make the "return plan" successful, from organizing and contacting various locations, managing the schedule, passing on traffic information and understanding Munakata's current position.

In one of the compounds in the panel, his current position is always displayed by the Munakata PDA tracking system. Awashima asks the staff while looking at them with a tight gaze.

"What is the progress of the plan?"

"It is 2 minutes and 15 seconds late, but it is within expectations. Currently, the Sequence C execution unit is moving. We will get to Point C on time."

"So…"

Awashima occupies a small area and looks at the monitor.

The plan is going well. At this rate, he can be in time for the opening ceremony, even if it's at the last minute. Unless something unexpected happens.

"Deputy Director Awashima."

Awashima looks around in a loose voice, rolling her shoulders.

Fushimi Saruhiko was as if he was leaning against the monitor room door.

He is the star idol of "Promotion Scepter 4", which is the center of the popular "Shoumutai" unit. Many fans were fascinated by the lonely atmosphere, and about 30% of the customers who packed the dome today are looking for him.

Awashima opens her mouth as she calmly looks at Fushimi.

"Fushimi. You should be in the final stages of doing a "Dream Corps."

"If the president is late, there won't be any 'Shoumutai', right?"

Awashima's beautiful eyebrows drew a dangerous angle.

“The plan is on the right track. You do not have to worry about that."

Fushimi laughs. It was an annoying laugh.

"Isn't there a countermeasure in case we run out of the star? Do you really think he can pull it off?"

"What do you mean?"

Fushimi casually pulled his hand out of his pocket and tossed what he was holding to Awashima. Awashima takes it deftly.

It is a recording medium in the form of a micro card.

"If you don't, I will. I made a new list of songs. If the president is late, I will."

Awashima's expression becomes more and more pronounced in a throwing tone. She squeezes the recording medium and she says quietly.

"Do you think I will receive this?"

"If you don't need it, you can throw it away. I can't bear to expose ourselves to that person's mistakes."

Awashima quickly waved her arm and threw the recording medium back.

"President…"

Fushimi deftly accepts that which came back like a bullet. Awashima, looking at the stagnant eyes behind the glasses as if shooting.

"I will not make any mistakes."

"Sorry."

Fushimi shrugged slightly and went back to his place. Looking back at Awashima over his neck.

"Well, tell me if you need it."

With that alone, Fushimi left the monitor room.

Awashima stared at the monitor room door for a while, staring into his eyes. It's like doing it is a protest against Fushimi.

It's not that she doesn’t understand what Fushimi is saying.

Believing is different from believing blindly. Fushimi's view that he assumes the worst and take countermeasures is entirely correct.

However, Awashima did not receive that song list. She refused to even see it and turned around.

She felt that receiving it would be a distrust of Munakata, who had confirmed that he would be on time.

"The president has reached point C! Collection complete!"

"We have started to move! The plan is going well!"

Awashima muttered unknowingly, listening to the reports that came in one after another.

"President, be careful."

Those words were like a prayer.

++++++++++

That day, Yuri Yamazaki (26) was vaguely in front of Shikaido station.

She works in a product store managed directly by "Promotion Scepter 4". It was supposed to be closed today due to the shift, but she got an urgent call from her boss about 5 minutes ago. She had no particular plan, and she was quick to get to this point because she was drawn to a pretty good vacation assignment.

Anyway, Yuri thinks.

It was a strange call. Being with the bicycle in front of the station instead of the store.

Apparently, they told her to lend the bike to someone, but they did not tell him who to lend it to and only told her the time of the meeting. It would be profitable to get a vacation allowance on this alone, but Yuri checks her cell phone while deeply thinking that she would complain if she was forced to do something else.

Seeing the displayed time, she sighed.

The "Sprint Dream Live Tour" will begin soon. Like most idol shop clerks, she is a fan of “Promotion Scepter 4.” She decided to work at an idol shop because she loved idols.

However, just because she is an employee doesn't mean there are benefits. Controls in that area are tight, and the clerk who secretly secured her own live ticket was sometimes ill. She must take the ticket herself, and if the lottery is lost, the schedule may disappear from the vacation she got, just like the current situation.

Two minutes have passed since the specified time.

"I wonder... if he's late, can I contact him?"

She doesn’t know, the murmur leaks out. After 5 minutes, she will contact the store manager. Thinking of that, she suddenly looked up.

And she doubts her eyes.

Someone was running from the street in front of the station, at tremendous speed. He easily overtook the next bike and came closer. Yuri instinctively tried to back away.

However, when she saw the man's face, she doubted her sanity.

"Ah, President?"

What she unwittingly said was the nickname of Reisi Munakata, the representative of "Promotion Scepter 4" and "Idol King". Naturally, it spread from the case where the idols under his command called him "President."

Faced with the stiff lily, Munakata strode over to a halt. He exhales a little and smiles at Yuri.

"Excuse me, are you a store clerk?"

"Eh, yes!"

Her voice shook. Feel the blood of her entire body concentrate on her face. The reason is that Yuri Yamazaki's favorite idol is Reisi Munakata.

Half in panic, she yells out the questions that come to mind.

"But why are you here?! What happened to the 'Sprint Dream Live Tour'?"

"I'm having a little problem and I've taken a different route than normal. Don't worry, I'll be in time for the opening."

She felt as if the blood that had risen through her head was coming down this time.

In other words, it is an emergency. Yuri was a fan and she knew how confusing it would be to be late for the opening ceremony. Perplexity, pain, disappointment. Just imagining being there, the pain felt like its own.

Yuri rushes up and says.

"Is there anything I can do?!"

“Lend me the bicycle. It's enough."

Yuri blushed again. If she thinks about it again, it was probably all part of the plan coming here. It is not a feat for the Munakata representative to give instructions to the directly administered office.

"Please..."

"Thank you."

Munakata straddled the bike without showing any pretense of noticing Yuri's tension. Somehow, it was an unattainable sight. The King of Idols, who can only be seen on TV or on stage, sits astride her bike.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going."

"Oh, yeah!"

Yuri instinctively stopped Munakata who was trying to get out.

Munakata looks at Yuri with his foot on the pedal. She held her breath with a mysterious look.

("Please sign.")

She had to desperately suppress that desire that came to her mind. Hasn’t she just found out it's an emergency? There is no second chance. And yet, unable to say such a silly request, that embarrassment forced Yuri's awkward smile and false words.

"Please do your best. I support you!"

Munakata, however, was looking at Yuri's face with calm eyes that looked through all her smile and strength. Munakata laughed lightly at Yuri, who suddenly became flustered and reached into her pocket.

"What should I write?"

"Eh?"

"I have a pen, but I don't really have colored paper. It's not in good taste with a notepad."

Yuri blinked many times. The feeling of regret, even the time she was wandering and wondering why him could see through her desires made her stiff.

Yuri handed him the PDA she was holding in her outstretched hand to Munakata. With her voice asking "Is it okay here?", she was fascinated by the magically moving pen. She picked up the PDA again, looking at the Munakata signature written there, and it was like a soliloquy.

"Why...?"

"I am an idol."

Munakata's response, as well as their relationship, was open and frozen.

"Idols live up to the expectations of their fans. My job is to capture your expectations."

"......"

"Good luck then. Thank you for your continued support."

With a courteous greeting, Munakata pedaled off the road in no time.

Yuri holds her PDA to her chest while watching him back. She murmured in an emotional voice, promising to turn it into a relic, and she was about to buy a new one.

"President, I will follow you for the rest of my life!"

To be continue…

#k #k project #k six idols #reisi munakata #SCEPTER 4 #idol k

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

.hamartia. ‘Part 2,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 2.2k Words

A/N: Okay I need to make up my mind if this is yoongi x reader x taehyung x jimin or just taehyung and yoongi. Please help me- also I haven’t read this over so...I’m sorry if some sentences like don’t make sense

I’ve had Heather by Conan Gray stuck in my head all day. Anyway...I’m not sure if I like this chapter, but it’ll do haha

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Next

self·ish/ˈselfiSH/

adjective

(of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure.

You took a deep breath in.

“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to try Jimin’s approach, just this once.” You muttered to yourself. You searched around your mind, begging that innocent girl from a year ago to come out. You found her hiding in the closet, door shut, and light off. Her eyes were dark, but her body still radiated a pure glow. She looked up hopefully at you.

“I always knew you’d come back!” She squealed.

“right...” You spoke to yourself. Then you scolded yourself, promising you’ll lock her away for good once this is over. For the last time, you handed her the reigns.

Your hand opened the door quietly. You still had yet to apologize to Jimin, but you decided to get to that later. Of course, when you looked up at Taehyung, he was already awake. Did this man ever sleep? It was still rather early in the morning; around 4 A.M.

“Hello!” You chirped. You sat down, trying to make conversation. “Are you hurt? Do you ache?” You asked, taking on the caring tactic in full force. You had tugged along a first aid kit to really help solidify trust.

He didn’t answer, of course. But instead of getting annoyed, you simply smiled warmly at him.

“It’s okay! Take you’re time. I understand this is all pretty crazy.” You continued, hoping he would see you trying to be genuine. However, trying will never be the same as actually doing it. The dark haired male looked...confused, to say the least. His head tilted to the side, observing you, picking apart your words and trying to understand where this sudden kindness was coming from. There were a million red flags, but you didn’t seem to want to harm him...yet.

“I see there’s a pretty bad bruised.” You pointed towards his cheek.

He didn’t respond, then going on to drink in your outfit. With that, he let his lips tug up into a smile. That outfit gave him hope, it made him start believing you weren’t there to hurt him after all. After a moment of thinking, he nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” His voice was deep and smooth, almost melodic. It soothed you to listen to. “Your friend decided to give me a nice wake up.”

“Ah, I’ll tell him to stop that. I apologize for yesterday. I had been informed of your arrival so suddenly. I was,” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was nervous, a little frazzled.” You sat very innocently, unlike yesterday. He felt he could trust you as you were right now, but it was still terrifying to know that girl yesterday still existed within you.

“I also think...I think the rope is too tight.” He mused, seeing how far he could push it. This didn’t faze you. You simply nodded, stood, and, almost hesitantly oddly enough, went to loosen his ropes. After you had sufficiently loosened the bindings, he grasped your wrist tightly.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked.

“I had a moment of clarity, yesterday.” You explained lamely.

“Hmph.”

“Why do you trust me?” You cocked an eyebrow up, your face somehow shifting to allude to the monster below. It was to your surprise when he chuckled.

“Your outfit.” He said slowly. If there was anything he learned in his short time being in this room, it was that black was for blood. Leather meant blood and gray meant bruises. “Your outfit is white.” He breathed. His words were light against your neck where you had crouched to loosen his ropes. How did he know about your outfit coordination? You assumed he was very observant.

You stared at him this time. He was almost devastatingly handsome. Dark eyes and pitch black hair. It made your heart flutter. You quickly put your beating heart into check. Monsters don’t have hearts. You stood, tearing your wrist away from his grasp.

“Well, I’ll try to make you comfortable.” You said quickly. You wanted to leave the room as soon as possible. Something about being near him made you feel ill.

“If you really wanted me to feel comfortable, you’d let me out.”

“You know I can’t do that.” You whispered more to yourself than anything else. You knew he heard it when he let out a little sigh, tossing his head to the side to move his bangs.

You left in a hurry, feeling him stare at your back.

Yoongi didn’t seem pleased.

“Please, Y/L/N, tell me why you let Jimin talk you into this idea.” He sighed. He looked exhausted, but he always did. You found yourself wondering if he had eaten and slept well. You shooed those thoughts away, not wanting them to distract you.

“Oh drop the formalities, Yoongi.” You sneered. Yoongi didn’t respond, but his eyes did narrow at yours. You didn’t feel intimidated. You knew that look, you’d seen it a million times.

After a brief pause, you continued, “I felt...I felt bad for something I said to him earlier. I thought I could give it a try, but it’s harder to build trust than I thought.” You trailed off, thinking to yourself: It’s so much easier to just break it.

He nodded slowly, listening to your explanation. The pale man sat in his leather chair. He was a laid back sort of man. One leg was crossed over the other as he leaned back lazily. A drink of whiskey was in his hand. He swirled the brown liquid around in the glass before setting it down. Now he leaned forward, seeming to ponder the idea.

“I think it might work, actually.” He wasn’t entirely sure, but he liked watching you squirm.

“Really?”

“Is there something wrong with trying a new tactic? Your job is to get information, I never said how.”

This was the sort of argument often used in the other direction; the argument that allowed you to do whatever twisted thing came to mind.

“But, Yoongi,” You pleaded. “I’m not cut out for this. I was just not made to love.” You looked down at your twiddling thumbs, feeling yourself turn back into that little girl from a year ago. You hated her. You should have just put her back in that closet, but here she was, popping out to say hello again. “You should know that better than anyone else, Yoongi.” Your voice was soft, but it held a certain steel to it.

He softened instantly. That voice was all too familiar; that tone.

“Y/N.” He cleared his throat before looking you deep in the eyes. “Every human being is made to love.” He turned around, facing the windows at the end of the office. “Sometimes, you just don’t know how to.” His mind was slowly getting lost in grief. He was grieving you, us, together. “Dismissed.” He couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of you being close to another man other than Jimin. He had to let it go though, you guys were over and you have been for a few months. Besides, you never showed any signs of liking him still so he had to let go of you a little.

You didn’t even bother trying to argue. You could sense he had become distracted, lost in thought. You were glad for the dismissal as you could feel yourself getting lost as well.

“Oh god, please, no.” The young girl shook like a leaf. She looked to only be a year or so younger than you. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

The sound of a gun cocking shut her up. Hesitation flickered through you. You thought of your own family, now dead, and your own morality. Ever since coming to the mafia, you had refused to hurt anyone. Now you were being forced to. It was your humanity, your sanity, V.S. a new found family known as the mafia.

In contrast to her sister, the girl who was actually in danger, Hwayeong, stood absolutely still. You didn’t plan on humiliating her. You just wanted the job done and over with. She was directly involved in the murder of Yoongi’s father. It seemed insane, but she did have nerves of steel, despite her angelic face. You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

“I know you’re scared.” Hwayeong had a soothing voice, like a calm lake that washes over you. “And I know you were forced into this life, but you can change.” She didn’t sound fearful, though you knew she must be. “I’d welcome you with open arms.” She didn’t sound concerned or even pitying, she just sounded genuine. The dark haired girl sounded understanding and compassionate.

“I have to do this job.” You said quietly, gun still pointed at her, but now shaking. Hwayeong seemed to understand because she nodded her head, stepping forward. She grabbed the gun’s end and moved your arm so it pointed at her forehead. Her eyes stared into yours, pools of obsidian.

“Then do it. I have nothing left to bargain and I’m not going to deny the killing of that cruel man.” She held her head high. She seemed a proud woman. “But for the love of god, stop shaking, I want the shot to be clean and the death soon and blessed.”

You couldn’t help but gape at her request. She wrapped her slender fingers around yours on the handle.

“Shoot me.” She didn’t break eye contact, and you didn’t either. “Shoot me and we’ll all call it a suicide. I know how it feels to be in your position.” That raised a million questions. Was this the right choice?

“I-” The bang of the gun shocked you. You jumped, stumbling back a few steps as you stared at the body before you. You had held the gun. She had pulled the trigger. While her family screamed and sobbed, tied up and terrified, you ran outside and heaved the contents of lunch onto the lawn out front. You brought your sleeve up and wiped away the food around your mouth. Then you went back inside.

The house felt so small now. It was almost suffocating as you untied the family members. They stood in silence. You picked up the gun and slowly rose. You looked each member in their eyes, barely acknowledging their hollowness.

“This was a suicide.” You nodded at each of them. They nodded slowly back. “If I hear otherwise, you’re all dead.” And that was the last straw. The last humanity left in you. Those obsidian black eyes still burned into you.

Unlike last night, you jerked awake with this one, your heart racing. Why now? Why were you reliving these painful memories now? For the past few months it’s been so easy to just push and push the memories deep down. You had locked them in your basement. So how had they flooded back up so suddenly. They were suffocating you.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You reached out for someone to hug, someone to hold, only to find no one. Instead, you curled up, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible. You weakly hit your head with a fist as if to release these memories. You let your mind to turn to something else. The reality of the dream slowly slipped away. Her eyes left your mind temporarily; it was something you had sworn you’d never forget.

Fuck. You still needed to apologize to Jimin. He would probably be upset to know that you didn’t even notice that he wasn’t there all day. But the point was that you thought of him now. Only now did you realize how much you missed his company.

He would have known what to say to Taehyung to get him to talk more. Jimin, yes, helped you get information, but he was also a silver tongue. He could talk his way into and out of most things. That’s how he was “hired” for this mafia. He actually had been kidnapped, much like Taehyung. But, he managed to talk the, much more naive at the time, interrogator to move him upstairs. Then he talked them into letting him borrow a car. By the time he could escape, he knew too much and he knew the other members too well. He didn’t want to leave them.

You suddenly felt very sympathetic for him. Maybe it was because the old you had the reigns. So now here you were, standing outside his room, lost in thought. You didn’t even knock when he opened the door.

“I suspected you would come.” He scoffed, trying to look indifferent. You didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence as you engulfed him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, about everything.”

He carefully hugged you back, hands going to your neck to pull you in closer. “I know.” He whispered.

ahhhhhh that’s it for part 2, I’ll make part 3 soon! Let me know what you

Previous | Next

#bts #yoongi #taehyung #bts mafia #taehyung mafia #yoongi mafia #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #fluff #angst #hamartia

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erraticrandomficwriter · 4 years

Photo

1906 – San Jose, California

Blair Alden Han walked through the halls of Winchester Manor with an oil lamp in her hand. The faint glow of the lamp and the pure white of her nightgown gave her an almost ethereal appearance as she roamed the halls. She paused for a moment at the windows overlooking the men working on yet another addition to the Manor.

As soon as Blair got used to the lay of the land the workmen came along and changed everything all over again. It was confusing for her to say the least, but there were times where all she had to do was touch the walls and it all came back to her – the familiarity of the Manor…of her home.

Blair longed for the day where the Manor’s work would be complete and the feeling of unrest would leave her, but that time was not near nor did she believe it would be for quite some time. She understood this, of course, but she hoped one day the Manor along with its Matron would find peace.

Blair felt a shift in the air and took a step forward towards the large glass windows that opened to the roof beyond where all the men worked. She gently touched her fingertips upon the window and watched the men for a moment before whispering with urgency, “Look out!” Blair pressed her hand flat against the glass and a moment later one of the workmen dodged out of the way of the falling bricks from the pulley above him.

Blair’s hand started tapping against the window as it tremored. She quickly pulled it from the glass and held it to her chest as she moved away from the window as to not draw attention to herself. Blair ventured down another hall in the attempt to return to her quarters but there was another shift in the air within Winchester Manor – an even stronger shift than before. This change prompted Blair douse the flame of her lamp and set it upon the table at the end of the hall. She would not need it any longer.

With a deep breath, Blair removed her clenched hand from her chest and placed her fingertips upon the papered walls of the hallway. “Henry,” she whispered, now knowing he had part in the shift of the air. With closed eyes, she ventured down the hallway with only her fingertips upon the wall to guide her. With each step she took, each part of the wall she touched, she could sense the changes grow stronger.

Blair’s pace quickened as she strove to find Henry and the cause of the heaviness she now felt with each breath. Her long black hair fell from her bun above her hair which now trailed behind her as her nightgown billowed behind as well. Not once did Blair open her eyes nor take her hand away from the wall until suddenly, she turned the corner and stopped in her tracks.

Blair opened her eyes to find Marion Marriott removing a burlap sack from the head of the young Henry Marriott as they stood upon the landing of a staircase that led to nowhere. She slowly removed her fingertips from the wall as she approached the pair, seeing how Henry’s eyes were cloudy for several moments before he turned to face the staircase going up to nowhere. The fog of his eyes faded away as he pointed up the stairs and gave warning.

“He’s coming for us,” Henry voiced as he pointed, his hand shaking ever so slightly. He slowly turned his head and looked directly at Blair, now whispering his warning. “He’s coming for us.”

Blair moved past Marion and Henry and went up the stairs as far as she could, only to pause when she heard footsteps coming from above them. The footsteps stopped, giving them all a moment to try and process this event, but that soon passed when whomever or whatever was above them stopped loudly upon the floorboards.

Blair instantly shot up her hand, flat against the floorboards above and shouted, “No!” The thump of her hand seemed to echo on the floor above and the unknown poundings ceased. She turned around to look at Marion and Henry on the landing behind her. “He will not get us tonight,” she vowed and went on her way, the hand she thrust upon the floorboards above tremoring as she went.

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

The following evening, Blair wandered the halls as she did almost every night. Only that evening her hand not once touched the walls – she let the air itself guide her about. She was pleased as she turned the corner to find Sarah Winchester, whom Blair referred to as the Matron of Winchester Manor, sitting in the library of the first floor in the Manor. “Good evening, Matron.” Blair bowed her head, careful not to let her long hair fall and entered the room.

Sarah’s elder eyes expressed the same pleasure as her smile when Blair joined her in the library. “We have known each other for a long time now, have we not? It is about time you call me Sarah.” She gestured to the chair beside her. “Please join me, Blair.”

Blair did as she was asked and adjusted her white nightgown before sitting. “I am sorry for not reaching Henry in time. I was too far away from him. The Manor is so vast and confusing for me.”

Sarah was not upset with Blair in the least. “You were where you needed to be when you needed to be there.” She reached out and took Blair’s hand in her own, her eyes softening as she felt how ice-cold it was. “You cannot be in all places at once, child.”

“I have not been a child for a long time, Matron.” Blair saw the look in Sarah’s eye and corrected herself. “Sarah.”

Sarah smiled lightly as she patted Blair’s hand before releasing it. “I intended to give you and Marion the news in the morning, but seeing as how you are here now, I shall tell you. There is a Doctor Price who will soon be arriving and staying here.”

Before Sarah could continue, Blair asked with concern, “A doctor? What is it, Sarah? Are you ill?” Blair placed her ice-cold hand on the side of Sarah’s face to try and sense if there was a change within her.

Sarah removed Blair’s hand for there was no need for that. “No, I am not ill. However, the Board has deemed it necessary to evaluate my sanity. Dr. Price is coming to do just that.”

Blair’s face hardened at the mere suggestion that Sarah Winchester may not be in the right state of mind. “How dare they!” Blair bolted to her feet, “If I could see the Board myself, I would make sure they never insinuated such a thing again!”

Sarah rose to her feet and joined Blair in front of the fireplace. “Do not dwell on things you cannot do nor change.”

Blair took a deep breath to compose herself. “I give you my word, this Dr. Price will not deem you mentally unfit.”

A soft yet melancholy smile graced Sarah’s features. “You always have looked after me.”

Blair confirmed that with a vow she had made numerous times and would never break. “Always have, always will. Until your dying breath and beyond.”

(End Part 1)

#winchester welcomes blair #part 1 #work in progress #blair alden han #yet another blair au

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Text

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I love baby stories. I feel like Oprah in that sense- "You get a baby! And you get a baby! Everyone gets babies!" So yeah, here's another Dracula baby one shot. Forgive my sex scene, I'm not the best at writing them. I've only attempted a few times, I need to work on it. Anyway, I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if this silly thing is worth continuing! -Jen

Chapter One

Sex. An act of intimacy between two individuals. Passion. Fury. Lust. Hunger. Sometimes animalistic. One might lose their mind, their sane mental processing. Their rationality. A fierce battle where there are a pair of losers or victors. It was in such a position, high on the blood of her enemy, that Zoe Van Helsing found herself in the nest of her greatest enemy.

"I shouldn't be here," she breathed, her lower back pressed against his table. "Why am I here?"

"You tell me," Dracula murmured, arms tight around her body. She could smell his scent, the earthiness behind it. It was almost pleasant. "I'm not the one who consumed my blood. That was you. You drew yourself here, dear doctor."

Zoe's arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her up. It was like being in a haze. Euphoric. She was aware of her surroundings and yet, despite her detest of the vampire, she hadn't felt the urge to go. As he sat down, Zoe straddled on his lap, she could feel the heat beginning to pool in her core. Sanity be damned.

"Easy, doctor," he purred, amused as her fingers fumbled at undoing his shirt's buttons. "You seem rather rusty. When's the last time you've been with someone?"

She nearly protested when he pushed her hands aside, his own fingers nimble as he undid them himself. Zoe didn't want him to have the advantage over this, her primal needs ignoring her calm collective manner. Dracula's shift slid off with ease revealing his pale, toned chest. When the tips of her fingers ran across his muscles, the heat within her grew.

"My turn."

Zoe yelped in surprise as Dracula flipped her onto the mattress. He grinned devilishly, looming over her. In a matter of seconds, her own shirt had found its way to the floor. His fingers lingered over her bra, his smile growing wide as she squirmed underneath him. The vampire found the snap, pausing momentarily when he did.

"We can stop," he suggested. "Your choice really."

"No," she growled heavily. "Quit being a tease."

"I apologize," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye. "It's in my nature."

The bra was discarded in the direction of her clothes, something Zoe was not too concerned about at the moment. An unexpected hiss escaped her lips as the count lowered his head and began to kiss her bare flesh, lingering over her jugular. Her hands, as if with a mind of their own, found their way into his thick, dark hair. The doctor arched her back, biting her lip as he stopped just above her waistline.

"Pants are such an inconvenient thing," he whispered, his index finger tracing around her navel. "Wouldn't you agree, Zoe?"

"Fuck you."

"I can always call it a night," he suggested casually. "I'm in no rush."

"You're an asshole."

"Over five centuries and counting."

Zoe rolled her eyes, trying to remain posed as his fingers curled around her slacks. Slowly, he edged them down, letting them fall to her ankles. Momentarily, he looked up, his gaze dark and mischievous. Gingerly, he slid his hand inside of her panties. The doctor gasped, bucking her hips as she felt his caress. Her nerves were shockwaves, lighting up throughout her body.

"Please," she whimpered, grunting as his touch became more firm. "I need...need…"

"Hm?" He inquired, almost innocent. "Speak more clearly, Dr. Van Helsing, you aren't making much sense."

"Out of my head," she gasped breathlessly. "Out of my head and in me."

Dracula chuckled as Zoe attempted to push his own pants down, using her feet to press against the belt. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. It was amusing, watching her squirm. Now she was his prisoner. No see through cage, just a mattress in bed frame.

"What's the magic word?"

"I don't…" she moaned, feeling his fingers tease. "Please…I...invite you in."

The vampire grinned, leaning in close, lips brushing against hers. "You needn't ask twice…"

For the first time in her life, Zoe felt a sensation she'd never experienced before. Ecstasy.

"You're pregnant."

Zoe blinked, looking at her oncologist in confusion. She'd just come in for routine blood work to observe the progression of her cancer. Her doctor, Dr. Elliott, gazed down at her chart, not seeming to notice how in shock her patient was. After all, it wasn't as if she was aware of Count Dracula's existence or even the fact that Zoe slept with the vampire for that matter.

"That's impossible," Zoe said, much louder than she had intended. "I can't be pregnant. The test results…"

"Very strange actually," the other woman continued. "Not only did your blood work show accelerated hCG levels-something we look for in pregnancy, but your cancer...it's almost like it's going into remission," Dr. Elliott smiled. "Look, I don't want to cause you any sort of alarm, so I'm going to set an appointment up with a gynecologist. I want to make sure this isn't some fluke. Do you know when your last period was?"

"They're irregular," the doctor muttered. "Ever since I started chemotherapy. But I assure you, there is no way I could be pregnant."

"Have you had sex?" Dr. Elliott inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"Well…" Zoe thought back for a moment and then the realization hit her. A dread that crawled from the depths of her stomach, up her throat, and left a bitter taste in her tongue. "Five weeks ago, but it can't be. His genetics...he's supposed to be sterile."

"You'd be surprised, Zoe," the oncologist stated. "The human body works in mysterious ways."

"Not if you're not human," the woman growled. She sighed, massaging her temples. Migraines had been becoming constant lately. Anything threatened to set them off. This included. "When is the soonest I can have an appointment?"

"Based on your given condition, I think it's safe to say we can expedite things," Dr. Elliott said, returning to her chart. "Can you do tomorrow afternoon? After we see how things are, you can come back down to oncology and discuss matters there."

"The earlier the better," Zoe huffed, gathering her things. "Gynecology?"

"Twelve o'clock," the other woman responded. "I'll call if anything changes."

She nodded, a frown etched across her features. Not exactly what she had expected to hear today. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Battling cancer, being terminally ill at that, was one thing. The possibility, extremely high as it was, of being pregnant by her worst enemy, no less, was positively horrific to think about. The fact that he was undead didn't help matters either.

As she left the hospital, she desperately tried to push it all into the back of her mind. She didn't want to think about it. Pretend that it was a dream. A nightmare. There was no way. Simply no way. The tests were wrong and that would be proven tomorrow. Until then, she needed a drink. Wait, should she drink? Did she even care enough to consider the idea of what damage alcohol would cause? Dammit. Count Fucking Dracula.

Zoe found herself pulling into a drug store a few blocks from her apartment. It was as if she was on autopilot. Through the sliding doors, she immediately found herself in front of the feminine products. Pregnancy tests. Either a reassurance or a dreaded accuracy to her condition. Not knowing, or caring, which was better, the doctor pulled a few from the shelf and headed to the checkout line.

"Congratulations," the young clerk smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed!"

"I don't think we see eye to eye," Zoe muttered, sliding her card. "Plastic please."

The hallway was empty as the doctor made her way down to her door. The bag in one arm, she shoved the key into the lock with a little more force than necessary. Flipping the lights on, she walked over to the counter and dumped the boxes out. Morning. That was the recommended time. Screw it. She pulled a glass from her cabinet and began to fill it with water. A full bladder. She needed answers now.

Positive.

Zoe groaned, hurling the stick into the nearby trash can. She lifted another, her eyes flickering from the test to the box's instructions. Same result. Same outcome.

Positive.

She hunched over, holding her head in her hands. A migraine. So it began. This situation, all of it, was not helping. If anything, Zoe had begun to realize that she had the capability of despising Dracula even more than she already did. How could she've been so stupid? To drink his blood. To take it like some jello shot at a fraternity party. Nearing forty years old and still having foolish moments. As she was just about to look at her third positive test, her phone buzzed.

"No longer with the Foundation?"

She didn't need caller identification to know who it was.

"How the hell did you get my number?"

"Social media is a fascinating thing. Or, I took the liberty of confiscating your little friend, Jack's, phone. I just realized I had yet to reach out to you. How are you doing?" -Dracula

She shouldn't respond. Zoe knew she shouldn't. But her fingers began to type anyway.

"You couldn't have picked a better time." -Zoe

"Do I detect sarcasm? Forgive me, I have a hard time reading emotion over text. Emojis are wondrous things. You should try them." -Dracula

"Where are you? Out draining the blood of some innocent person?" -Zoe

"Home, actually. You should come over. I quite enjoyed our last visit." -Dracula

Not a good idea. It was an absolutely horrible idea. But her blood boiled and fight over flight took over.

"Yes, I think I will come over." -Zoe

"Oh? How spontaneous! I'll get the wine ready. Will red suffice?" -Dracula

But Zoe had left the conversation. Fingers clenched so tightly into her palms that they turned white, she headed for the door, grabbing her purse and keys on the way out. Her mind was far from thinking clearly and she was okay with that. Things needed to be settled now. It was only a matter of time before they would anyway.

She gripped the wheel tightly as she zoomed through the traffic lights leading to Dracula's home. Thankfully it was late enough that there were not many cars out. Parking, she stomped up the steps, her ever present migraine throbbing in her temples. Before she had the chance to knock, Dracula had already swung the door open.

"Ah, Zoe, what brings you to my humble abode?"

There it was, his smile. That grin. That ever present mocking face as if he was always right. Always having the upper hand. God, did she detest him. Their eyes were locked, his head tilted just slightly to the side as if trying to read her expression. Zoe frowned, fist tight as she took that brief moment of chance.

"You got me pregnant you asshole!"

And with all the strength she could muster, Zoe Van Helsing sucker punched Count Dracula in the face.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula on Netflix #Agatha Van Helsing #Zoe Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Dracula x Zoe #Gemini

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queenmuzz · 5 years

Text

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter IV

The way to a merman’s heart....

For a link to the full story on Ao3, click here

“You gotta be more specific than 'small silvery fish with spots' when describing the type you like, Vergil. That covers dozens of groups, let alone individual types.” You sat, back to the glass, while on your laptop, pulling up picture after picture of similar looking fish. Vergil floated behind your shoulder, steadily dismissing each picture.

“Well, the issue is that you humans seem to have picked a different name for it than we have” he almost seemed faintly amused at your frustration.

“What does the name 'Cordina' mean anyway?” You closed the browser window with the latest batch of rejected pictures. Well, it wasn't herring... what if it was a fish that humans just didn't eat?

“It is just a name in Old Mer. Do your names of your food staples have to mean something?”

He had a point. A cow was just that... a cow. You grumbled, this was going nowhere... You slammed the laptop shut, and spun to face him. He had been a lot closer than you expected, nearly plastered to the glass, and he quickly darted back, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Had there been no glass or water there, you would have been able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.... the thought of that made you feel warm...

“Alright wise guy, tell me something else about the fish, like how it moves, where it lives, any peculiar oddities it doesn't share with any other fish.” He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes looked upward as he recalled the information.

“It prefers cold water, and usually stays in the far south, ” He said, which was no help. Quite a few species were like that. “But...every so often, when the seasons make a full cycle, a current of cold water juts far north, and the Cordina follow it, to forage in the new territory. At the same time, the warmth of the Ringed Sea pushes against it, forcing the fish into a long narrow column, close to the coast. And since the water is shallow, the fish are easy picking for both the birds above and the predators below. And thus, the feeding begins”

Hmmm, that sounded familiar...you wracked your brain, trying to remember where you had heard of that phenomenon. A memory of a professor, showing an image of the east coast of Southern Africa...AHA! You yanked open your laptop again, and typed in words, bringing up the image of a fish that fit the description. Flipping it around, you showed him.

“BEHOLD! The Sardine! Specifically Sardinops sagax, South African Sardine ” You watched as he cautiously approached the glass, peering at the image, scrutinizing it. You felt a sudden nervousness, as if you were waiting for your exam marks to be revealed.

And then he smiled.

It was a small smile, barely visible, but it was genuine, and beautiful. Something you wanted to see all the time.

“You're very knowledgeable about such things, I hadn't thought that you, a human, would know about something so far away, and in the ocean, to boot.”

“Well, it's what I studied in university” you watched the confused look on his face, “That's where some people go to learn things so they can specialize. Some want to learn about computers,” you tapped the laptop, “Some learn to teach children, and some, like me, want to learn and explore the ocean. Migration patterns of Sardines aren't my specialty, but we did learn about them from about a lecturer who had studied it.”

“Not your specialty?” He asked.

Well, the ocean is vast and for the most part, we don't know what's down there...so a lot of us just focus on one Ocean, one particular ecosystem, hell, sometimes one type of individual fish. I prefer to study the deep ocean, it's a whole new world out there. We know more about the moon-”

“The moon?”

“The thing in the sky, usually you see it at night, cycles between getting bigger and smaller...”

“Ah, the Tidemother....”

It had a nice ring to it, you thought... very romantic, you'd have to ask him more about terms he used. “Anyways, the cutting edge of what we don't understand is the deep ocean, since we can't just... go.. there. Not to mention, it's an entire ecosystem that's not dependent on the sun...the Moon's daytime counterpart.” you clarified.

"Tidefather” he responded, “and no doubt, once you scour the sea floor, you will find a way to exploit it, as humans are wont to do. Never satisfied with their lot in life, they take, and take, and take...” His fists balled up, and even though you were separated by thick glass, you felt the urge to scoot away. The old look of hatred you had first encountered came back with a vengeance.

“What? No!” you responded. “I mean, humanity as a whole has done a lot of damage, I'll admit to that, but we're trying to get better...bit by bit.”

“Fitting words for the daughter of a murderer...” he shot back, an you winced. He had a point. Your father's company (and soon to be yours) harvested thousands and thousands of tonnes of fish each year. But something didn't make sense...

“Not that I'm accusing you or anything, but you've been going after my father's fishing vessels, but I remember that during the Sardine Run, fishermen from the villages on the coast come out in droves to harvest the fish as well, why not attack them?”

A pregnant pause, and you were afraid you had offended him “They merely harvest to feed their families, and their fellow humans, and besides, they are merely one fish in a shoal. I do not feel ill will towards them anymore then I do against any of the other predators.” he calmly explained, before returning to his anger “However, when those ships, with nets that can envelop and harvest countless fish, can scour the oceans clean to feed their hungry maws, that's what I take issue with...”

“Point taken...but if I'm going to get you some of the fish, I'm going to have to buy it from someone who most likely participates in that sort of thing... so it's either kelp, another fish I can get locally, or... this.” He hesitated for moment, before bowing his head in defeat.

“If this is the price for keeping my sanity, so be it”

******

You sat on aquarium platform, with a plate of fresh sardines splayed out in an amateur design, as if it was a plate of hors d'oeuvres at a fancy dinner. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice at the market, so you were only able to procure a little over a dozen of the fresh ones (and had managed to finagle a deal with a bemused fishmonger to get a regular supply, citing that you were rehabilitating some sea mammal, it was technically true) but it would take a while to get the supply going. So, you attempted a substitute, which you stacked beside the plate. Cans, and cans, and cans of Sardines. The look the cashier gave you, and the way her eyes darted down to your stomach, to see if you were pregnant, was worth it, even if Vergil ended up hating the stuff.

“So, it doesn't look like sardines are in season, so the ones I got might not be the best condition,” you apologized as you opened one of the sardine cans, one packed in salt water. Perhaps he would like the canned ones that tasted as plain as possible, and then you could try out the more flavourful combinations.

Vergil pulled himself up onto the platform, scaring the bejeesus out of you. “Sheesh, give a gal a warning before you do something like that!”

The merman chuckled...his voice, now 'real' echoed through the room “Apologies, I take it you thought we do not surface.” (you made a mental note to attempt to make him laugh again.)

“Well, it doesn't seem very practical,” you said. “You seem to be specialized for aquatic travel, while being rather clumsy on land. The inverse is true for humans.” You realized how dry and clinical that sounded, how close you were to sounding like Doctor Griffon. Your hands covered your mouth “Oh God, that sounded so bad, I'm really... really sorry!”

Vergil chuckled again (tingles went down your spine, perhaps the tales of the merfolk's alluring voices had a kernel of truth.) “It is forgiven, you cannot help how you think. You seem to be a person who is constantly observing, eager to learn. There is nothing to be ashamed in that, as long as you realize your limitations. Something the 'Good Doctor' could take a lesson on...”

He picked up one of the sardines by his tail, and with a quick motion that surprised you, he swallowed the fish whole, bones and all. At first you thought it was because he was famished, but then one sardine turned into two, then three, then half a dozen were gulped like a baleen whale gulping an entire shoal. You were used to animals eating like that, but the image of someone so humanlike.... well, you excused yourself, and went into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat (and hopefully settle your stomach). You weren't sure what you wanted, but you wanted something quick and easy.... And as you checked your cupboards, you found it... a plastic package. Pulling out a pot and filling it with water, you began to cook.

Five minutes later, you came out with a steaming bowl of ramen in salty broth. And what you saw nearly made you laugh. Vergil had devoured the entire plate of sardines, the opened can of of sardines in salt water, and was attempting to open another can, one with sardines packed in olive oil. He wasn't having much luck with it, frowning intently as he rotated the can, attempting to find out how to open the treasure box. You stood back, allowing him to explore, until he finally figured the pull tab, and with a bit of effort, he ripped open the top. He grinned at his success, but in his attempt to grab the reward within, he gripped the can by the sharp, recently opened edge. The can was dropped onto the platform with a clatter as he hissed in pain. A stream of blood bloomed on his palm. Quickly setting your bowl down, you ran over.

“Oh no, are you alright?” and before he could protest, you grabbed his hand to inspect the damage. Vaguely, you realized this was the first time you had touched him. His hands were remarkably soft, especially considering the salt water that he spent his life in. A thin red line on his palm indicated a pretty nasty cut....Or it would have, if it was not rapidly healing in front of your eyes.

“How in the...”

“We heal fairly rapidly, especially compared to you humans, we're not sure why, but it grants us a resiliency that most creatures in the ocean lack. How you humans survive without that ability, I have no idea” He, huffed, amused as you used your ratty old shirt to wipe the blood away to reveal that, yes the cut had healed within a few moments, leaving not even a scar. “You didn't have to do that, I would have licked it off.”

“You...lick your own blood?” you asked, part appalled, part intrigued.

“The less blood we shed, the less likely predators will be attracted,” he explained, and you realized that was probably the same reason for his super-healing. Or if a shark or something did approach, the merfolk would be healed enough to fight back or flee. You were learning more and more things about these people, and just by having a conversation, and treating him as an equal. The 'Doctor' was an idiot, he could have gained so much more knowledge, but no, he was compelled to be a douchebag.

As Vergil (carefully) opened another can of sardines, this time in tomato sauce, you went back to your bowl, now reasonably cooled off, and began slurping away. You watched as he swallowed the sardine, and resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made.

“Not a fan, eh? Ah well, you can't like everything.”

“Indeed, a bit too...sweet for my taste” He looked at the other cans, his brow furrowed, before he looked at you, no, he was looking at the bowl in your lap. The tip of his tongue stuck out, as if he was attempting to mentally form a sentence.

“Would you like to try some of my ramen? It's very salty, probably right up your alley”

“My alley?”

“It means I think you'll like it”

He hesitated for a second...before he nodded, and twirling your fork, you wound a small sized portion, before handing the fork to him. You'd expected (foolishly, in hindsight) that he'd take the fork from you, but instead, he shimmied a bit towards your direction, and carefully, fed off your fork. You couldn't resist giggling as he politely slurped up the noodles. “So, how is it?”

He didn't answer, his smile did more than words ever could

#Devil may cry #Merfolk AU #Vergil #Mergil #Vergill #vergil x reader #DON'T JUDGE READER FOR EATING RAMEN WITH A FORK!

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arohawrites · 5 years

Text

For Eternity

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: Angst, Vampire au, apocalypse au

Trigger warning: Blood

————————————————————————————————————

You stared nervously at the door of the convience store that served as your 'home' for the past month.

The sun is rising, he is late and you're starting to get more and more anxious. You tapped your foot nervously.

Did something happen to him?

Your shoulders jumped with the sudden knock from outside. You almost rushed and opened the door but you remembered the secret code he made.

You knocked back on the door, exactly four times. You waited for his response, three slow knocks from the glass door rang to your ears. You breathed in relief and quickly opened the the locks of the door, your hands are shaking as you remove the huge chain from bar handles.

"Thank goodness, you're safe, Jinwoo" You immediately said as he rushed inside, you felt soft sunlight slowly hitting your skin. You immediately closed the door as you know it would kill your boyfriend.

"Sorry, I made you worry." He said with a soft tone.

You don't know how and why it happened but mindless vampires suddenly attacked people one day.

Humans are quickly slain and some humans also turned into vampires. Jinwoo did his best for the both of you to survive and you did but he got attacked by a vampire while trying to find food for the both of you.

You thought that you lost him, you thought that the love of your life is going to lose his life in your arms but he didn't and was turned into a vampire instead.

Some humans who later turned into vampires somehow regained their sanity and Jinwoo's one of them. You continued surviving together and end up finding an abandoned convience store.

You looked at every corner of the place which is covered with papers and makeshift curtains. Vampires can't withstand sunlight so you made sure that not a bit of sunlight is entering the place.

"Why are you late? Did something happen?" You asked with worry, Jinwoo looked more pale than the usual.

"There's almost no humans alive, no matter how and where I search. I luckily found one that's almost dying" he said with a straight face.

Both of you are scared with the fact that Jinwoo needs to drink blood to live, that he became a monster. At first he detested himself, he wanted to die than to kill anyone but he knew that you can't survive alone and Jinwoo won't forgive himself if something happens to you so he did his best to survive.

Even if that means that he has to become a monster both of you fears.

You used the vampires' weakness to sunlight to your advantage, every morning you come out and try to find something useful while Jinwoo goes out at night to feed and find useful things too.

"We should move then" You said, you don't know how much control Jinwoo has for him not to attack you.

Sometimes he would come back without feeding and would just warn you to stay away from him.

"Sorry, if I became like this. We could've found a hidden human camp by now if I didn't turn into a vampire." Jinwoo apologized, his eyes are glued on the floor.

You inched closer to him, but he took a step back, "You know that distance is not safe for you in my current state" he said with difficulty, the smell of your blood is clear to his senses and you nearing him only makes it worse.

You distanced yourself more, "You don't have to say sorry. It's not your fault that a sudden apocalypse happened."

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Your mind quickly reminisced back when Jinwoo is new to being a vampire.

The blood smeared on his face and neck, his eyes that only screams bloodlust. It scared you, it's as if he wasn't the man that you loved since you were kids.

"I love you, much more than I'm afraid of you" He sadly smiled with your response.

"I wish I could embrace you right now" he mumbled, you missed it too. His warm touch, his loving embrace.

How long has it been again?

You cleared all the fear in your head and went towards him again, took his hands and held them tightly, "let me do this, even just for a moment before I go out"

His heart thumped fast. No, it wasn't because of the thirst, neither because he's afraid but because he simply missed you.

Your current set up made him distant to you, mainly to protect you from himself but you felt the sudden coldness he imposed. You silently accepted your situation, because you don't want to be a burden for him too.

You lightly gasped when he slowly pulled you in his arms and embraced you. You felt each other's longing as you enveloped your arms to him.

"Please, let's just stay like this for a while" he mumbled and gently kissed your forehead. You felt your eyes going warm, tears imediately fell on your cheeks. If you could stay like this forever then you would gladly do.

All the worry, all the fear and heavy feeling is gone all of a sudden.

"We can do this, we can survive together" You whispered softly.

Days passed and Jinwoo struggled more on finding humans to feed on, he went back the third night without any luck.

"Are sure you're okay? You're so pale" you asked, your worry skyrocketed when he stumbled and collapsed on his knees, "Jinwoo!" You exclaimed and was about to approach him but he promptly stopped you.

"Don't come near me" he looked straight into your eyes and you felt terror crawling to your skin. His eyes were crimson red which only screams hunger.

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself but sob left out of your lips.

You feel so useless and helpless, Jinwoo is doing everything on your account. Every night he goes back with commodities for you, not letting you starve even though you're in the middle of an apocalypse. Yet, you're simply standing in front of him who's obviously struggling.

"A-are you sure you don't want to drink my blood? Promise, I'm not afraid of it. Please, Jinwoo, let me help you"

"No," his tone is firm and cold even though he's obviously hurt, "just leave me alone"

Your gaze never averted him, you're sitting on the other side of the place and him on the other. You muffled your cries, seeing him in pain breaks your heart.

"It's morning, you should get out for some sunlight. You're pale" Jinwoo spoke after a while. You nodded slowly and just went outside, morning is the only time that you can get out safely because no vampire can walk outside on broad daylight without bursting into flames.

You know Jinwoo wanted you away for your own safety but he still looks after you as he said that you're getting pale. You wanted to help him in any way you can so you started searching for things outside.

Jinwoo always reminded you to stay outside and never enter into any abandoned buildings as it can be a refuge to vampires hiding in the morning but you still peeked through the entrance of one nearby building.

"H-hey" someone called and your eyes widened.

Another human...

"Are-you human?" he asked you and you nodded earnestly. You don't know what came to your mind but you wanted to lure him inside your place.

"Thank Goodness I've seen someone still alive. I thought I'm the only one who survived." He said with relief.

He's alone, you noted.

"Me and my boyfriend survived the apocalypse and we're currently hiding in that place," you pointed your den that's few meters away, "You looked like you haven't eaten in days, are you okay?" you asked with fake concern.

"I've been hiding while trying to hide my scent through several perfumes. I don't know if it works but no vampire have seen me." he said while looking at your place, you shouldn't raise any suspicion from him.

"We're doing the same thing too," you lied, "That place we've been hiding is a convience store so luckily we have some perfumes too. Also, we have commodities, enough for us to survive the next months"

"R-really?" he already looks tempted.

"We can share you some food, after all we can't eat all of them and it might get spoiled." his eyes glistened, you felt a pinch in your heart, but you're doing this for Jinwoo.

"Thank you so much!" he happily followed you, not knowing your ill intentions.

"Woah" he exclaimed as soon as the both of you entered inside. You saw Jinwoo peeking at the last shelves with a confused face.

The man approached the first shelves where chips are stored, "Can I get one?" he asked.

"Yes, you go make yourself at home" You said while casually picking up the chains you use to keep the doors closed.

You heard him gasp, he probably saw Jinwoo.

"Wh-what's the meaning of this? Isn't that guy a vampire?" he stuttered and almost tripped while walking backwards.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry" You mumbled.

"You're a traitor!" He exclaimed and charged to you out of paranoia. The man couldn't make it to you as Jinwoo blocked his way.

You heard Jinwoo hiss and attacked the man. You collapsed on the floor and simply kept your head down and your eyes firmly closed.

You never dared to look but you can hear everything.

The helplessness.

The hunger.

The lifeless body fell on the floor after Jinwoo satiated his thirst. You finally looked at him, his pupils are dilated and unfocused. He licked the remaining blood on his lips, it took him a moment but he finally looked at you with sad eyes.

"A-are you okay now?" You stood even though you still feel your knees shaking.

"H-hey, why are you crying?" You stuttered, his tears started to flow like it would never end.

"I'm sorry that you have to do this. S-sorry" he sobbed uncontrollably but you shook your head.

"I told you... We will survive together"

END

#astro #astro imagines #astro au #JinJin #jinjin x reader #vampire au #astro vampire au #apocalypse au #astro scenario #astro angst

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nox-scrie · 5 years

Text

Shady Bussines

What do you mean it’s the 27th and I should have posted this a day earlier for the TMA5 Countdown? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of recovering my senses from a senseless previous day. Anyway. This is the second day of TMA5 Countdown wow!! The fears were The Corruption and The Buried and because I love that coffin with all my heart I decided to bring it back for another round. No, this one is not corrected either and no, I’m not sorry. I hate rereading my works. It happens. Hope y’all gonna enjoy it though!!

Fears: The Corruption; The Buried brieeef mentions of The Eye

Content Warnings: Death, Paranoia, some mentions of Insects

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Characters: Jon “Tired of your shit before you even started talking” Sims, Martin “What even is going on” Blackwood, Jane Prentiss, some mentions of Tim “Love of my life” Stoker and Sasha “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU” James; also some OCs and one of them appeared in Day 1 too!

Setting: Season 1!! a little after episode 22, with Martin’s time spent in self isolation (hah.)

Word Count: ~3670

~~~ Shady Bussines

Jon stepped into his office, viewing the piles of unread, unordered statements, and felt another headache forming. He was having none of the former Archivist's shit, not after last night.

There was little light in his office, and he turned off almost all the ones that were still on. The buzzing of the light bulbs was annoying what was left of Jon's sanity, and he wanted to be in the best of his mental capacity when he read a statement he has prepared, one that seemed to be related to Case #9982211.

He slowly dragged himself to his office anyway, putting on his reading glasses that were hung around his neck and tightening his tie. This was his job, and he didn't want to be fired after barely a month of being the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute because of a pretty bad hangover.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opened a drawer, the only fucking thing in order in this room, and got a tape recorder out. He sighed, thinking with half a mind to call Martin and ask him for a cup of tea and a Paracetamol. Hah. Good joke, Jon. Not after last night.

He took a deep breath, slowly picked up a lint from his skirt and cleared his throat. Maybe he could burry himself in statements until his headache goes away, and forget everything he has said to Tim last night. Yeah. That sounds like a good plan.

"Statement of Horace Dwayne regarding his experience with a strange coffin, Archway, London. Original statement given October 17th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement beginns.

I knew my fiancé's job was not one of the legal kind. There was simply no way a person with no college education can make enough money as to afford as moving in together in our apartment, barely five months after we got engaged. Yet, I never mentioned it, and I think they were grateful because of that.

We first met a few years ago, on a dating app for LGBTQ+ people. It was a casual thing, we just hit each other up when we needed company, and never talked about anything in particular. Until one day, they asked me if I lived in Manchester and I said that yes, I did. They came to my place a few hours after that, rain soaked and bleeding from a wound on their torso.

That was the first time I met Morgan Doe in person, and it was me, clumsily stitching up something that looked like a kinfe wound on their side. I asked for some details, but Mo didn't tell me anything. They just thanked me for taking care of them because they couldn't go to the hospital. I remember ranting about how they should take better care of themselves, and how Mo looked at me in the eye before bending to kiss me. Or maybe I was the one bending. In that moment, though, it didn't matter: we were kissing, and after I started ignoring the wetness of their lips and how they hissed when I climbed on top of them, it was actually really good.

Mo asked me to be their boyfriend a month after that, and I said yes. We moved in my crappy, ranted apartment in Manchester, and lived there for almost a year before I asked them to marry me. I knew that we couldn't get married right away; I was between jobs at the moment, and even though I still wasn't sure what Mo actually did for a living, I knew that they will not be able to afford a wedding in a matter of months

Or that was what I thought then. One day, when I got home from a failed job interview, I found Mo in the kitchen, happily mumbling the lyrics of some song that was playing on the radio. I asked them what got them so cheery, and they just turned to face me and started dangling a set of keys in front of my eyes. Mo kissed me, and said that they managed finally get us a place for our own.

I knew that something was wrong then. I knew that something was painfully, terribly wrong, from how fast they managed to find us a place right after we got engaged, to the glint in their eyes, that mischievious glint, when they shared the news. I tried getting the information out of them, how did they actually manage to find us a place so fast, but Mo just shooshed me and said that I shouldn't worry, because they were going to give me the wedding of my dreams, and the life that I deserve.

A month after that, we were already settled in Archway, London. Apparently the apartment has been pretty cheap because of the loud neighbours, especially a woman who claimes to hear wasps in the attic. The first night we got there, I saw her in the garden of the apartment building, staring at the basement door. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she looked ill. When she turned her face straight towards me, I was too surprised to turn away. I think she smiled, but I don't remember her lifting the corners of her mouth. It felt like she was smiling, though.

I had a job now, in a shopping centre, selling vegetables. It wasn't much, but somehow we never dealt with money problems in our house. It seemed like the money never ended, in fact, and Mo told me more than once that I shouldn't be concerned about that. And I tried very hard to not be, but in the darkest of nights I still remembered that gilnt in their eyes when they showed me the key.

It was an usual evening when the coffin came. I was having my tea and reading a book that has made its appearence in my house, ignoring the weird noises the woman from upstairs, Jane something, made. There was a knock on the door, and I hoped it wasn't that creepy woman asking for some flour. I really wouldn't like to know what she did with it.

But it wasn't Jane. The two men sitting in my doorway were so tall I had to crack my neck to see their faces, obscured by some big caps. They spoke in some sort of accents, probably russian, and said they were from a delivery serivce and they had a package for Morgan Doe. Mo was not home at the moment, and chills were creeping up my back when one of them extended a clipboard for me to sign. I told them that Mo is my fiancé and that they're not home yet. The two men looked at each other, and one of them shrugged. I signed the papers and the two placed the big box in my kitchen, the first room of the apartment, and left without a word. I only assumed that the package was already paid.

I didn't know what it was, but if Mo has ordered something for the house they would have told me. I thought that maybe it was something for work, and that thought made me feel unwell. I called Mo, but they didn't pick up. I only thought they were busy, and I eyed the big box suspiciously. I went back in the living room for my tea, and I got back to the kitchen with it. It couldn't be something from work, I thought, work doesn't deliver such big packages. So I opened the box.

The shock I felt when I saw the wooden box inside, the coffin inside, made me take a step back and stumble into the table, spilling the tea. It was a coffin, an adult sized coffin, and a pretty new one from appearence. Well, except for the words "DO NOT OPEN" scribbled in the wood. That was not the strangest thing, though, but the fact that it was chained up so heavily it seemed to hold a living person, not a wooden box.

I called Mo again. And again. I was so panicked I could barely breath, and they were not picking up. I couldn't afford to leave the room or lose sight of the coffin, who did not move, speak or gave any sort of clue about its origin or its content. I noticed the key attached to the chain, and that image made me laugh. There was a coffin in my kitchen, a chained up coffin, with a key! I was going crazy.

It was almost midnight when I felt like I couldn't stay awake any longer. I took the key and placed it in my back pocket, careful not to touch the wood or the chain too much. If it was a cursed object, I didn't want to be in more contact with it than I already was. Mo still hasn't came back; they do that sometimes, leave overnight, but they always give me a heads up at least a week before. Of course the only time they left without telling me was the same night that a strange coffin, probably with a very weird thing inside, made its way to our home.

I dreamt of bugs slowly crawling their way on my skin, through my ear and inside my brain, bitting and pinching it as if it was a sponge, whispering about the hive, its importance, its puropose. It was a very unusual dream for me, but when I woke up and found out that I wasn't in my bed anymore was even stranger. I was in the kitchen, in front of the coffin, with the key in my hand. The key from my work pants, which are in the drawer.

I never sleepwalked before, and to think that out of nowhere I was not only sleepwalking, but dreaming of bugs and searhing for things in my asleep state was impossible to understand. It was the middle of the night and I took out my phone to send Mo another message, begging them to come home. I don't know how I fell asleep afterwards, but I know that the key was on the nightstand where I put it before going to bed.

Mo came back that morning, and I found them in the kitchen, their back turned to me. They were staring at the coffin, and I slowly made my way towards them, anger and relief that they were okay starting up in my stomach. But they didn't turn towards me, not as I slammed the door on my way inside. They jusy sat there, and stared. It took me only a moment to realize they were crying, and Mo has never cried as long as I know.

They turned towards me, their cheeks stained with tears, and hugged me. There was no word shared between us as we sat there, in front of the coffin, Mo crying softly on my shoulder. I think I understood them better in that morning then I did in the entire time I knew them.

Our lives for the next few days has been like that: staring at the coffin for sometimes hours on end, waiting for it to make a move, and then quietly chatting about what we did that day. We have got used to it, too. Mo placed it in our storage closet that we never even used, and it fit perfectly. Both of us tried to ignore the little tapping from inside when he touched it. I think we both convinced ourselved it was just in our imagination.

When the first rain came, it was during the nighttime. I'm a very heavy sleeper so I usually don't awake unless somebody hits me with something, but the noise from that night woke me up. Mo's side of the bed was empty, and the bedside table's drawer was open, with the key for the coffin missing. My heart skipped a beat, and I ran for the kitchen, bursting through the door.

There was a moaning coming from the storage closet, and the door was opened. As I scrambeled for the light bulb, I realized that the moaning was almost musical. When I turned the lights on, the moaning hasn't stopped, but grew even louder. The door to the wooden casket was open, the light glinting off the chains mockingly.

I took a deep breath, and started screaming for Mo. I didn't dare leave the kitchen, not with the casket open, not when I didn't know where my partner was and if they got in there. I realized they must've been the one who opened it. They might have had went there every night, and this time, with that awful moaning, was too much for them. They gave up.

I'm not sure when I fell to the ground, a mass of sobs and pained screams, covering my ears to stop the sound of moaning, but I know when a knock came at my door. I couldn't move, couldn't leave, and the person must have been so impatient they just bursted through the door. It was the two delivery man, accompanied by a guy with a very common face. I couldn't catch the man's name, too caught in the two delivery men as they closed the casket and chained it up again. The jackets they were wearing had the words "Breckon and Hope Delivery" written on the back.

The moaning only grew louder as they placed the coffin on a trolley to take it down the stairs easier. I barely managed to get on my feet and catch the other man's rain-soaked coat by the fringes of the sleeve.

"Why did you do that to them? How has Mo wronged you?" I asked, and I was not feeling angry, or empty, but rotten. As if my insides have been eaten by insects slowly and only now I can percieve the damage.

"Oh, child. They didn't do anything to me. All that happened was their own fault, their own making." at this the man stopped, gently extracted his hand from my grip, and looked around the apartment. "Nice place you've got here. I'm certain it was worth it."

I moved out the next week, when I started hearing weird insect noises. I never managed to get the door fixed, not that it mattered. The whole building burned up a few days after my departure, and I couldn't help but feel this was the perfect ending."

Jon paused for a few seconds there, thoughts flying around in his head, never focusing on just one. There was so much information here, so many points to connect. It felt like a conclussion was coming, and Jon hated that he wasn't able to see it fully because of his stupid, throbbing headache.

"Statement ends." he said, an afterthought. "Well, this is not only connected to Case #9982211, but may also be related to Case #0161203, the one of Martin's from almost a week ago. If that is true and the Jane who lives in Archway in this case is the same as the one that locked Martin in his apartment then... that would be very interesting, indeed. I should ask Sasha to make more research regarding this case. I... Recording ends."

Pressing the red button to stop the recording, Jon started scrubbing at his eyes before letting out a heavy sigh. It felt like he was caught in a web, all of these statemenets connected one way or another, with him caught right in the middle of it all and yet unable to see where they started and with whom they ended. He got up on unsteady feet and caught the edge of his desk in order to not lose balance. God. He would make his own fucking tea and get his own fucking Paracetamol-

The door to his office opened, and Martin came stumbling in. He was wiping sleep away from his eyes and masking a yawn at the same time with the back of his hand. He was also wearing one of Jon's baggy sweaters he has left in the room of the Archives Martin occupies now. The recorder turned itself on, unoticed by either of the man looking at each other.

"Oh, Gosh, Jon. God. What are you even doing here? It's not even 7 a.m. yet."

Jon didn't even try to mask the scowl on his face when he gave his snappy reply. "Some of us get to work on time, Martin."

Martin stopped wipping at his eyes, his glasses now slightly askew. Jon looked behind him and turned his hand into a fist. Why was he like this?

"Still, the Archives don't open for at least another half an hour. Jesus, Jon, I'm still in my pajamas."

"I can see that." Jon replyed, meaning to be bitter and mean, and hating the softness that managed to slip into his tone. He scowled harder in return when Martin looked down at himself and jumped.

"Ahm... I... my clothes. Are at cleaning. All of them. And you forgot this and I... meant... to give it back to you... not now I mean! But I didn't have anything else to wear and..."

"Martin. Stop making a fool of yourself. It's fine that... that sweater has a hole in it anyway."

"I sewed it." Martin said, matter of factly, his face still red and expression flustered.

"You did?" Jon asked, more surprised than anything, and when Martin started biting his lip Jon looked back at that spot above his head, that was now becoming his favourite part of the Archives.

"Yeah... It was nothing anyway and I didn't want to return it with the hole in it. Not that! Not that I am.. wearing it often or something."

"I said it's fine. The blue fits you better than it ever fitted me, anyway."

Martin looked at him in the eyes, something strong and fierce in his look, and Jon didn't turn his head this time. Neither of them said anything for a while, but then somebody coughed in the doorway and both of them jumped, the moment having vanished.

"Did we intrerrupt something?" said Sasha, sidestepping Martin and leaving some papers on Jon's desk. Tim, who was behind her, remained next to Martin and sent a big grin in Jon's direction. The scowl came back to the archivist’s features.

"No, nothing, what? Of course not. I was just... Jon, why are you holding onto the edge of the desk so tightly?"

Jon looked down at his hands and saw that they were white with effort. He stopped clenching them, and immediately started feeling dizzy once again. Sasha caught him before he could fall backwards, with an arm around his middle.

"Easy there, Jon. Are you okay?"

"Just.. feeling a little ill." Jon said, and Tim let out a bark of laughter that he quickly covered with a caugh.

"Godness, this is just awful, isn't it, Martin?" Tim said, making a show of his words and softly touching his heart with one hand. "I'm certain one of your famous teas would make him all better, don’t you think?"

Before Jon could give a snappy reply, Martin jumped slightly again, as if Tim's words just activated all of his "taking-care-of-people-via-tea" senses. He nodded eagerly and looked over to Jon, who was too tired to scowl in full force anymore.

"And a Paracetamol." Martin agreed, before leaving the office.

"He hasn't even asked me if I want some tea..." Sasha asked, more confused than offended. "What did you do to him during that staring contest, Jon?"

"What?" barked Jon, extracting himself from Sasha's hold and throwing himself on his desk chair. "I didn't do anything to him, thank you very much."

"Oh but there are so many things you'd like to do." Tim said, and anger started bubbling up in Jon's throat as he turned his eyes towards him. "You drank so much last night you can barely hold yourself up now, boss?" he asked, innocently.

"Tim, for the love of everything good on this planet, stop. This is all your fault."

"What is?" Sasha asked, confused.

"Your big crush on Martin is my fault, or the fact that you got so drunk you told me all about it is?" teased Tim, and Jon wanted to get off his chair and throw himself towards him, but didn’t.

"WHAT?" shouted Sasha, and both Jon and Tim shooshed her.

"I don't have... a crush on Martin. I just think that he's a good person, and a good person can't work in this place of horror stories and insufferable people. That would be you, Tim."

Tim laughed. "Copy that, boss. But I'm sure that if you just told him he would.."

"No. And that's final. I don't want to engage in a romantic relationship with anyone, especially not my assistants, especially when there's so much work to do here. I think I just found some important information in Prentiss' case."

"Jon... likes Martin..." mumbled Sasha, probably talking to herself. "You idiot!" she exclaimed, turning towards Jon. "He likes you too! Hell, he almost broke his legs running to make you tea. And wasn't that your sweater he was wearing, the one you lost some time ago, "my favourite article of clothing" or whatever?"

"It totally was." said Tim, ever the helpful.

"So do something about that, Jon! What are you waiting for?"

"For the two of you to get off my office and do some actual work. Leave, now."

Sasha sighed and Tim stuck out his tongue at him, telling him something about how we only have one life and we should make the most of it. As Jon drank the too-good tea Martin has made for him, he admitted to himself that Tim was right and that he really should do something about that. The more persistant thought, though, was the fact that he was never going out drinking with Tim, ever again. He did not see, nor hear when the tape record clicked itself shut back.

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leggomylino · 5 years

Text

Emin | yandere!artist!chenle

Genre: yandere, a bit of fluff, angst, a bit of comedy (just to relieve some tension)

Pairing: yandere!artist!chenle x baroness!reader

Word count: ~10.3k

Warning(s): deep angst, dark thoughts, violence, possible character death

Song: Leia by Yuyoyuppe (feat. Megurine Luka; here’s a really pretty piano arrangement!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-Ooh0e-fvk c: )

A/N: Requests are open! | Masterlist in bio!! | thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!!! <3 | P.s....I wanted to portray Chenle as more of a soft/confused yandere?? Still possessive but more...respectful? Innocent? I think that’s the word(s) I’m looking for? Like he’s really unsure how to handle it? Idk hopefully you’ll get what I was going for… ^^”

[2:42 pm]

You were his safety. His peace. And that’s why he refused to let you go.

You were a rainbow, and they were all colorblind. But not him. Never him; to him, you were all the colors of the spectrum and more, so much more, so much more that he simply couldn’t contain it all in his fragile, broken body.

So he painted. That’s how he’d gotten his start as an artist.

He painted religiously. Each day was something new, something vibrant, something alive, bursting with color and warmth and emotion; so many emotions. Some days were painful; others were like a breath of fresh air. But he didn’t care if it hurt. He didn’t mind that it was slowly consuming his sanity, filling up every square inch of canvas in his mind. Like a moth to a flame, he’d do it all over in a heartbeat. Like a sailor to a siren at sea, he’d keep coming back for more, over and over and over again.

And on days he’d lost sight of that focus, on nights he couldn’t sleep, his body wracked with pain from the debilitating illness that the clerics still had yet to find a cure for, he’d draw the person he wished he could be.

He was strong, and handsome, and focused. He wasn’t sick; he was healthy, and determined and dedicated and sophisticated. He was loyal and brave and loving and so charismatic, so charming, there was no way you couldn’t notice him. He was your world; just like you were his.

Even if it wasn’t real. Even if he had to paint it himself.

It was all he wanted. It was all he had.

And for now, it was enough.

“Chenle~ I’m heading out now!”

Chenle blinked to life, waking himself back into reality. Reluctantly.

He smiled to the woman walking into the room, her wine red dress skirts swaying with each step she took towards her precious baby boy. Her one and only son, now that his older brother had gone off to enlist in the war effort.

“Okay, Mom.”

She sighed, resting a hand on her wrinkled cheek as she examined his most recent masterpiece. He was painting that girl; again. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright by yourself? Don’t forget you have that meeting with the Duchess today at five p.m.”

He sighed back as she ran her free hand through his messy orange hair, stained that way from all the many late nights painting to his heart's content. The room was never clean when he was hit with inspiration, and nothing was spared; not even his hair. His fingers were often so blue, the rivets embedded in murky varnish, the other villagers thought they were broken.

...That wasn’t far from the truth, but it was still a misconception all the same.

“I know. I’ll be fine. Take care on your trip.”

His mother smiled once more, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. “I will, dear. You take care of yourself as well. Don’t stay up too late with...erm…”

“Emin.” He smiled much more brightly. “Her name is Emin.”

“...Yes...Emin.” She frowned, her shoulders sagging a bit. This wasn’t the first time he’d locked himself into his own false realities...he’d be gone for at least a few days.

But that was fine. He may not have much longer to live anyway; it was the least she could do but to play along with his delusional fantasies.

“Just remember to get yourself cleaned up before you present yourself at the palace. And don’t be late!”

“I won’t. Goodbye, Mother.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

Cha-chunk.

“......”

The moment she’d left the small cottage, a sigh of relief escaped him, and he tilted his head back to face the sky...or rather, the low-hanging splintering wood ceilings.

All he wanted to do was paint and get lost in you. But he’d better start getting ready.

✦

He was scrubbing away the residue of last night’s oil pastels from beneath his fingernails when the image of you popped up in the window through the small broken looking glass of the washroom. He was sure he must be imagining things; after all, the visions of you had been quite strong lately.

Except this time he wasn’t hallucinating. It really was you.

“Chenle!”

“GAH!”

He flinched, dropping the small scrub brush in a state of panic, then whirled around to see you.

Your bright (e/c) eyes. Those rosy cheeks. That gorgeous hair.

He desperately wanted to melt into it, to mix his palette with yours. But he feared the result would be muddy...an unwanted color. He couldn’t risk tainting such beauty with his filth. “E-Emin...I mean, (y/n)...” Gosh, even just saying your name on his tongue was an indescribable joy. “(Y/n)...what are you doing here?”

You crinkled your nose the way you did when you knew something wasn’t right, and Chenle beamed, taking in your every small act of expression. “First tell me who on Earth this Emin fellow is. Do they bear such resemblance to me?”

“...” He nodded after a moment, sheepishly trying to hide the heat rising to his cheeks, but failed miserably. “It’s the name of my newest painting--”

“Oh my gosh!” You lit up brighter than the festival lights during the Fall Harvest, your head bobbing up and down giddily from the small space of a window. “You’re done already?! I wanna see I wanna see I wanna see! ...Please?”

You gave him your greatest puppy pout, the one he couldn’t resist. But you didn’t have to. Because eventually he would have caved anyway.

He picked up the brush off the ground, wishing he would have had more time to make himself presentable for you. Even if the two of you had been friends for a few years now, he still wanted to look his best for you...oh, but who was he kidding, really? It’s not like someone of your stature, the Baroness of Adderdale, would ever fall for a paint-stained dirt-scratcher like him...especially not one that probably only had a few months left to live. “Of course. I’ll open the door for you.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay! I know you have a big meeting with Duchess Rowena soon, I’ll just--”

“Nonsense. You’re way more important.”

The words were out there before he could take them back. But he wouldn’t have wanted to anyway, because it was nothing short of the truth. “Uh…” You nodded back to him, your face half-swallowed by the high-standing square hole in the wall, your eyes peeking just over the edge now as you climbed down from the crates you’d been standing on. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Chenle opened the door for you not but a minute later, right on schedule, and you smiled now that you were able to see him up close.

There was a smear of green paint on his cheek. You pulled out a handkerchief from your dress pocket, fanning it open in one quick flick of the wrist and tenderly reached up to wipe his face clean.

You almost suspected that you missed a few spots from how red his face turned, his whole body tensing, eyes barely peeking out shyly behind closed lids. He’d always been such a bashful, apprehensive young man. But that was one of the many things you loved about him.

If only he knew. Maybe things could have gone differently than how they eventually would come to play out.

You’d just starting to retract your gesture when he stopped you, taking your hand gently in his and holding it against his cheek. Nuzzling his face against the silk fabric of your glove.

You laughed. “What are you, a cat?”

He murmured back a soft reply. “I wish I were, sometimes...maybe then I could focus on the things I really care about.”

This made you frown. “Like what?”

“Like...painting, and watching the sea reach out to the sky, and taking naps all day, and...you.”

“Chenle…”

“Hm?”

“How would you paint? You wouldn’t have thumbs.”

He gave you a playful smirk. “No, but it’d have a tail. I’d never have use for another brush again.”

“How would you sign your work?”

He held up his hand. “Paw print.”

“How is that any different from any old stray cat off the street?”

“Hmm…” He gave it some serious thought, making you smile from ear to ear. “...Oh!” He released your hand, resting a fist in his open palm in an action stating he’d thought of something. “...Two paw prints?”

“Chenle!” You busted out laughing, and it’s got to be one of the most blessed sounds he’d ever had the pleasure, no, the honor of being alive to hear; he felt faint upon hearing it, yet stronger all the same. It’s the sound that gave him strength and security when he needed it most, on nights when he thought the sickness that plagued his brittle bones really would deliver his soul to Heaven. The moment he remembered your voice...even if it was all in his feeble mind...all was well again.

“Are you going to invite me inside? It’s mighty hot out here in the sun.”

“Oh!” He hurriedly stepped aside, taking your hand to help you up the small step into the tiny aged cottage that had to be at least sixty years old. “Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. I’m used to you spacing out in the middle of a conversation by now.” You poked his nose, sending a charming smile his way that may as well have taken his heart had he not already given it to you. “I think it’s cute.”

The wink you sent him was the nail in the coffin.

“Ahh!” Your eyes caught sight of his studio set up in the far left corner of the room, and you lifted your skirts to dash your heel-clad feet across the splintering floorboards. The moment you got there your hands gripped the drape over the center canvas, but you remembered last minute it’s probably polite to ask first, even if it was a dear friend of yours.

Normally Chenle would have murdered anyone who dared to disturb his art without permission; but you were the lone exception. He could never bring himself to hurt you. “Go ahead.”

Excitedly you casted the veil away, and when your eyes met the girl in the painting you froze.

Because she was you. You were looking at a reflection of yourself.

Except you were way more beautiful than you ever imagined you could be. Why didn’t you look this good in real life?!

“Chenle...it’s…”

“Do you like it?” His eyes were full of excitement and adoration as he gazed upon the you in the painting. “Her name is Emin.”

“Emin…” You repeated the name like a foreign word. “...She…”

You paused for a considerable amount of time, just staring curiously at the work of art. Of course this wasn’t you; it was too beautiful to be. How could you be so vain as to think…?

You sighed, small and subtle beneath your breath. “...She’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.”

“Wh-What?”

When your eyes turned away from the fantasy version of you, they met the artist responsible, staring at you as if it was you who hung the moon in the sky each night. “She looks just like you. Beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the warm feeling spreading over your cheeks; you casted your gaze away before Chenle too could notice.

It was too late, of course, because he already had. It made him so happy to see you flustered and flattered so; he’d have to add it to his list of future Emin’s.

You were his after all.

✦

At precisely four o’clock you left Chenle to finish getting ready, though he was sad to see you go. It was a vision he never wished to see; you disappearing out of sight. What if he never saw you again…? You were always so busy with your responsibilities as Baroness of the state. And it was all his fault.

He shouldn’t have asked to paint your portrait out in the grassy fields beyond town square. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been discovered by those royal administrators, who were so captivated by your charming appearance (as they should have been) that they scooped you up and swept you off to the palace to be trained, paying off your family to buy you as their newest errand girl. Because that’s basically what you were in your role of Baroness; the only difference was that they actually fed and clothed and educated you properly in the art of sophistication and foreign affairs and how to be a proper lady.

It made him sick how they ran you ragged. Sicker than he already felt with this accursed illness he was born with.

Which is why he hadn’t hesitated to pay off a young chef-in-training to poison the roast duck going to the administrator’s office one evening whilst sneaking around the back gardens. Your life became a bit easier after that, and the two of you at least had more time to see each other...until they hired another administrator.

But it was alright. The young man was fresh off the boat from vocation school. He’d hired some local bandits to give the man a good scare, and ever since that day you’d had Tuesday afternoons and Saturday evenings free. Sundays after spiritual services were always a given, thank Heaven.

It was now four-thirty. He’d carefully gathered his materials and was on his way to the palace, bag in hand. He wore his best suit: a brown sewn vest over a cream-colored button-up shirt and long, plain-colored trousers. His orange hair was groomed to look as good as it would ever be.

He had to get this job. It was for himself, for his mother; with his brother out of the house, they had scarcely been able to pay the bills, and the new royal tax document was expected to be passed within the next coming weeks. He was the only one left to take care of her.

And then there was you. He would have done anything for you. If he did manage to land this position, he’d be able to see you more often; even if it was just a few fleeting glimpses from a studio window.

By the time he made it onto the palace grounds, chefs and gardeners scurried about in preparation for a celebratory occasion of some sort. He wondered what it could be…

Until a flyer smacked him right in the face, temporarily blinding him.

Startled, he took a few steps back, ripping the inked parchment away from his face. His eyes scanned the page curiously.

𝑾𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑵𝒐𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒉, 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑽𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑵𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

Chenle scoffed. Like he cared about the affairs of the royal elite or the country...

None of that mattered unless it involved you.

✦

“So,” Duchess Rowena Varner, next in line for the royal throne, declared. “You must be Chenle...Zhong, is it? Zhong Chenle?”

The said boy grinned politely from before her throne of sorts. A placeholder until she got her greedy hands on the real thing. “Yes, madam.”

“You shall address her as My Lady!” a royal guard barked.

The Duchess shook her head, chuckling a bit as she waved him off. “Now, now, it’s quite alright. Please, call me whatever you like. And might I say, what a handsome young boy you are!” She stood and paced over to the works of art displayed on silver easels. Real silver. Just an ounce of that would be enough to pay the house bills for an entire month, with a bit left to spare for a royal feast. “Quite talented as well. I reviewed your work the other day.” She smiled, stopping beside his most recent portrait of you: Emin No. 54. His most brilliant work of art to date. “This portrait titled “Emin” is especially beautiful.”

He remained smiling in return, pride swelling in his chest. “Yes, I think so as well.”

Her next question caught him off guard.

“Is she by chance, a lover of yours?”

He froze. His face grew hot; hotter than the sun, it had to be. The Duchess tittered, finding amusement at seeing a young boy turn so red.

“So she is, then? That’s quite sweet. I’m happy for you, I am.”

“...N-Not...Not exactly…”

“Oh, come now. It’s alright. But you know…” she pondered, reexamining the painting. “She looks rather familiar...like I’ve seen her somewhere before…”

“I think it’s ugly.”

Duchess Rowena gasped, and all eyes quickly turned to her daughter, the royal Viscountess.

“Nina!!” The Duchess scolded. “That’s very impolite! Apologize this instant. That’s not how a lady should speak.”

Nina huffed, tossing a long pigtail over her shoulder. “Well it’s true. Her nose is too big. And the eyes sort of creep me out. I’d be turning tail and running if I saw this girl in my dreams or out on the streets. More like my nightmares…”

The Duchess’ face was far worse than a frown, and she snapped her fan shut to emphasize her anger and disappointment, scowling down at her daughter’s abhorred behavior. “Oh, Nina…!” She turned her gaze down to the ridiculed artist with sorrow in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for my daughter. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s usually very sweet and polite, I assure you.”

“......” Chenle didn’t know what to say. All he knew in that moment was that he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling, and it felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart-- no, that someone had stabbed Emin in the heart.

You. His Emin. The only thing he loved more than anything else in this world. More than his mother, or his brother, or his art supplies, or the beauty he found in every little thing this world has to offer…

The only reason he found such beauty was because of you. He saw you in everything. You were everywhere to him.

Something foreign and unabashed was painting a dark portrait on his insides…

And that portrait was titled The Death of Nina Varner.

✦

He waited just after dusk for the Viscountess to appear on her balcony for her ritual spoiled stargazing event. Each night she would wander out in a silk nightgown onto the balcony outside her room, tossing grapes and cheese and whatever late night snack she could get her snot-nosed hands on into that vexatious piehole of hers, all while shouting orders at the pitiful maids who were stuck with her that evening to braid her hair or rearrange the furniture or stop breathing so heavily and get her some more wine.

Chenle almost felt bad for them. Almost.

But he was much too busy kindling the fires of hatred he had for the witch who dared to insult his precious Emin.

He waited five swift breaths for the maids to take their temporary leave, then made his strike.

It was swift. Quick. A cursory stab to the heart. But it did the trick all the same; she hadn’t even much time to scream in terror as her body slumped to the marble stone floor, lifeless and in vain with a look of pure trepidation on her face.

It scared him how much joy and excitement it brought him to see her that way. But he didn't have time to admire his crafty work; in one rapid, fluent motion, he scampered off down the secret passage he’d bought the blueprints for at the Black Market in the shady part of town, a harsh coughing fit echoing down the narrow hall as he fled.

✦

The next day was meant to be spent orchestrating the Viscountess’s wedding as well as the arrival of Prince Jaemin. Which is why you were surprised to find that instead, that responsibility was no longer yours...and a new one was being passed down to you; or rather, promoted up to you.

“She what?!” you cried, horror-stricken in face. You could only imagine what the Duchess’s face must have looked like, to find her daughter’s dead body on the balcony floor. The maids almost had it worse, being the ones to discover the horrific display.

Even now you could hear Rowena’s cries and sobs as she mourned the murder of her only daughter. It broke your heart; the Duchess was such a sweet lady...a little greedy, yes, but still very kind. And sure, you never much cared for Nina. Everyone knew what an impish hellion she was, despite her mother insisting she was a good person...yet...you’d never once wished to see her drop dead.

...Okay, perhaps once, when she had shoved you into a closet and claimed that it was you who started a fire in the kitchen during a baking lesson, you did. But you hadn’t meant it literally…!

And now here you were, set to be crowned the new title of Viscountess. Set to be wed for the sake of the country to some prince whose name you scarcely remembered.

It was all too much. So sudden. So soon. You didn’t know if you could take it...you were barely managing to process it all after only half a cup of coffee; everything was passing you by the narrowest of margins.

You needed to talk to someone. Someone not on the inside. Someone you could trust. So the moment the royal guard who had delivered the news left your quarters, you ran off to find the one person you could think of, the first one to come to mind: Chenle.

He was waiting for you in the front garden, just as you’d ask a young pageboy to summon him there. His face was a desolate wasteland as it looked into yours. So he must have heard...news did travel fast.

“Chenle...I…” you sighed dejectedly. “I don’t know what to say. I never wanted this, I had no say, I promise I--”

“Don’t say anything.”

His eyes were a blazing fire when you gazed back up into them. It made you gulp nervously. “Wh-What do you mea--”

“Shhh...“

He was smiling then. Smiling...how could he smile at a time like this?

“I worked everything out. You don’t have to go to the funeral.”

“...What?”

“The funeral. For the late Viscountess. You don’t have to go, I thought of a way out of it...so we can spend time together instead.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. So he really didn’t know, then…? “I’m sorry? Chenle--”

“Hush now, it’s going to be alright. I doubt anyone’s going to show up anyway.”

You gasped at that harsh remark. “Chenle! That’s a horrible thing to say! Even if she was a brat, she wasn’t...she didn’t deserve to…”

“Yes she did.”

...Your eyes snapped back to meet his, again, and this time they were devoid of any life. Vacant of all color.

He was serious. He really meant it.

You took a step back, suddenly feeling ill at ease and uncomfortable with the heavy change in atmosphere. “...How...How can you say that? How…”

The boy you thought you once knew shrugged, gazing off to the side nonchalantly. “Because...she insulted something that belongs to me.”

“That’s no reason to--!”

“She insulted you.”

The air left your lungs for a second. The pressure around you was rising. Did...Did he just say…?

Scowling, you furrowed your brow, crossing your arms before you to boot. “I-I’m not yours, Chenle. I don’t belong to you, or to anyone but the State of Adderdale...and, pretty soon, the Kingdom of Norwich…”

You felt your anger fleeing from you as feelings of anguish and anxiety rushed to take its place, leaving a hollow sensation of misery in its wake.

And it wasn’t just you. Chenle was feeling it as well, his face drooping until it sagged in an expression of crestfallen disbelief.

“What...What do you mean?” he asked. His whole attitude had suddenly changed in no less than a millisecond.

You glared back at him in regret that you had to be the one to tell him; but it was best coming from you. “With Nina gone, I’ve been recently appointed as the new Viscountess. And, furthermore…” You swallowed again, wishing you could take the words down as well. “...I am to marry the Prince of Norwich, in her place. I’m sorry, Chenle…” You sighed for the millionth time. “There’s nothing I can do. I have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t want to look at him in that moment, to see the sadness written all over his face. But you did. Because you had to be strong; especially if you’re going to be taking over as head Viscountess (though not for long...).

Chenle appeared as if he wasn’t feeling anything. Or maybe it’s that he didn’t know what to feel. In reality, he was absolutely, undeniably, without a doubt...melancholy. Hopeless. Lost. Completely despondent.

The same pageboy poked his head around the corner just then, shyly calling your name. You were being summoned to speak with the Queen about wedding invitations, and what kind of wine you would like served with the celebratory dinner.

There were no words that could form what you wished to express to your only real friend in that moment. So instead you said what it is you’d normally say after parting ways, had it been a regular, everyday encounter; and not the last.

“Goodbye, Chenle…”

And then you were gone. His worst nightmares coming true, seeing you vanish from sight.

He looked to the paintbrush in his hand. Broken just like his body. Just like his heart. He squeezed it tightly, as tightly as his frail bones would let him. Tighter, tighter, as if he could squeeze the entire past three minutes out of existence. Erasing all the words that were said, and starting over on a clean, blank canvas. But it didn’t work out that way; that’s not how life worked.

So instead he shut his eyes tightly, envisioning his happy place. The world where the two of you were always smiling, always laughing, always together, always, always…

...It was all his fault. Again. He was to blame for all of it; he was the reason you were rapidly fading from his life. His insecure actions had led to his own downfall.

He sighed, the breath fleeting like a dream deferred.

It was no longer enough.

✦

Three whole days. Three whole days he laid there, his body writhing in pain and agony at the dull ache that seeped through his bones, violent coughs rattling his lungs and rib cage. His throat was sore, his eyes dehydrated from leaking out all the water left in his body. It was painful, certainly, but...it was nothing compared to the apparent horror blatantly staring him in the face that soon, very soon, you would be gone. For good. Forever. And he’d never see you again...only in his dreams, were he lucky enough to obtain them.

A flyer drifted in from the window, once again bringing itself to cover his tear-stained face.

𝑽𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔 (𝒀/𝒏) 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑵𝒐𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 // 𝑽𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔 (𝒀/𝒏) 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔-𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕

A literal slap in the face. His hands shook violently as he tore the sheet into bite-sized pieces, seething with rage and despair that did nothing to help his coughing fit and overall health.

He turned his head to stare at his latest masterpiece, feeling color draining from the world around him, his walls crumbling and caving in.

You were no longer his Emin. You were no longer his.

He felt like he was losing his mind. “But...she’s mine,” he mumbled, reaching out a shaking hand to the you of his dreams. The one he stayed up for three days straight painting with all his heart and mind and soul, pouring out every last ounce of passion from his expiring fingertips stained forever blue, as was the life of an aspiring, tormented artist. “Emin is mine...she’s mine, she’s mine, she’s MINE!!”

In a flash of anger he knocked over a case of brush pens, then a few books, then his entire work desk. He began throwing canvases out the window, their blank slates an abhorred reminder mocking the bleak future he had to look forward to: a future without you.

“Emin...she’s...she...” Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, where he thought he had none left. “She’s mine...E...min...she’s...”

Gone. You were gone, lost to him now, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

...Or was there?

Hastily he reached to grab the flyer from before, then remembered it was in pieces all over the floor. He struggled for an hour putting it all back together, but once he had a mischievous grin found its way where originally no amusement could be found. A tiny, faint ray of hope amongst the coming darkness.

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 // 𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉 𝟑𝒓𝒅

That was tomorrow. The Duchess must have convinced them to postpone the wedding for her daughter’s funeral. Which meant...

There was still time.

✦

With not a moment to lose Chenle rushed through the bustling palace walls, each hall as lively as the next as staff from every category of service hustled and hurried and scampered about, preparing for the wedding of the century.

Prince Jaemin had just arrived not but a few hours prior, and with his disguise as an errand boy Chenle had gotten all the right information and knew exactly where to find him.

Now he was just hoping he could get there fast enough, before someone knocked into him and revealed his dire plan.

Looking left, then right, he continued to weave in and out of the crowded hallway until he made it to the far end of the hall, making a stealthy left turn. He made his way down the steps to the kitchens, climbing into a dumbwaiter when no one was looking and working his way up the rope, grunting profusely with each feeble tug and the occasional cough. The moment he made it to the fifth floor he released a tired breath all at once, making sure the coast was clear before exiting the small chamber and trotting on lightfoot down the surprisingly quiet hallway given all the commotion downstairs.

His next task was to locate which one of these blasted guest rooms belonged to the Norwich prince. He had yet to get that far…

Knock knock knock.

“Your Highness?”

He whirled around and tripped his way behind a potted plant, almost spilling the chloroform in his pocket. A door he’d passed some twenty-odd steps ago was opened from the inside by a butler with a peculiarly sour look on his face.

The maid outside smiled kindly. “Pardon me, but all our errand boys are busy at this time. Her Majesty the Queen would like to have a word with His Highness, if that’s alright.”

“...” The young butler turned back into the room. “Yo, Jaemin. The old lady wants to talk to you.”

There was a hissing sound, followed by heavy footsteps before the boy was suddenly yanked back by his collar, a tall, handsomely dressed one taking his place instead. “Please forgive my idiot brother. He’s...a rare case.”

Mumbling could be heard in the background as the maid turned the whitest shade of pale Chenle had ever seen, bowing and apologizing profusely for not recognizing the youngest prince. In her defense, Chenle hadn’t of known either.

But that was besides the fact. His real target was now standing just a few feet away.

He hated how attractive he was. How he radiated an aura of regal perfection. It turned his insides into a dark, muddy green…

Somehow Jaemin had convinced the idiot brother with a smart mouth to take his place in seeing the Queen as a form of punishment (and to apologize for referring to her as an “old lady,” even if the hag was ancient beyond her years) and just before the door closed and the two witnesses had vanished around the corner, he made his move, dashing quickly and shoving his way--

...Right into the door. Thud.

He winced, praying to God his nose wasn’t broken just now. He should have known this guy probably lifted weights on a daily basis, where the only thing he ever lifted was a paintbrush.

He knocked, a hand still over his aching nose.

The moment the door opened he braced himself, whipping out the chloroform that...leaked in his pocket…

The last thing he remembered was the repeating curse he irately flung at himself: Drat, drat, drat…

✦

When he awoke some twenty minutes later, the first thing Chenle noticed was a handsome young man sitting at his bedside.

Great. He was having another nightmare.

But the young man’s nervous laughter proved that he was, in fact, awake, not dreaming.

“There have been far better applicated attempts on my life than the one you just tried to pull.”

The pauper took a deep breath, coughing on the exhale as he threw himself up into a sitting position, then on his knees, knife in hand.

He furrowed his brow a second later; why had the prince not disarmed him…?

Prince Jaemin merely smiled as bright and cleanly as sunshine on a crisp, cool day with the knife hanging inches away from his throat. He didn’t even budge.

Chenle scowled. “Why aren’t you frightened of me? Why didn’t you disarm me while I was unconscious? ...Why did you help me at all? Why not report me to the guard, or the executioner, or--”

“Executioner? My, what troublesome times these must be if you’re sentenced to execution for a simple act of violence.”

A simple act of…?

Chenle didn’t know whether to be confused or appalled. So he was both.

The look on his face must have been quite the spectacle, because the next moment Jaemin was chuckling kindly, as if they’d been having a basic conversation about the weather. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, I’ll give you that. As I mentioned before, you’re not the first poor sap who’s wanted me dead.” His eyes gleamed curiously then, almost taking on a new persona entirely. “Now let me ask you something. Why on Earth would you mention being hauled off to be...executed, of all things?”

Chenle’s whole posture drooped. His shoulders sagged. His breath hitched ever slightly, before being onset by a minor coughing fit.

Jaemin swiftly helped to ease him back onto the bed, but the ill boy fought back, thrusting the knife above his neck once more.

“D-Don’t…” He coughed again. “Don’t help me. I don’t need or want your help. I only want my Emin back. I’m not going to let you take her away from me…!”

“Emin?” The Prince frowned. “I don’t have anything like that...I’m afraid I don’t quite follow what you…!” Then his face lit up with realization. “Ah, wait, you mean that painting in the Duchess’ quarters?” His face began glowing with soft sort of realism. “It’s lovely. Did you paint that?”

“It’s a girl,” Chenle coughed, slowly coming out of his minor attack. “...and she has a name...her name is--”

“Emin,” Jaemin cooed, purred, slandered. As if he enjoyed the way it melted on his tongue the same way it brought the artist pleasure.

He glared, eyes growing dark. “Don’t say her name. You don’t get to say it! She’s mine, my Emin, and I won’t let you take her away from me. Even if I have to...even if I have to…”

“Kill me?”

He flinched, muscles tensing sharply beneath his borrowed clothes. “...Yes. Even if I have to kill you.”

Jaemin was all smiles again-- actually smiling. Did this guy have some sort of death wish? Was he mocking him right now? Challenging him, daring him to try?

Chenle had no idea. It was either that, or he was into some really weird stuff. “Why are you smiling like that? Tell me right now!”

“...You’re a demanding little thing.”

“Tell me, I said!”

“Hmm…” He breathed out through his nostrils, leaning back in the chair he’d pulled up beside the bed. “If you’d really wanted to kill me...you would have done so already. But you haven’t. We’re still talking, aren’t we?”

This hit Chenle harder than he was expecting it to; he practically felt the air deflate from his lungs, and he’d just managed to suppress his haggering coughing fit.

“And I daresay I’ve counted at least three prime opportunities you could have striked.”

“...I…”

The prince simpered, crossing one richly-clad foot over the opposite knee. “So why don’t you tell me about this...Emin of yours.”

Chenle was back to being angry and frustrated all over again. “Why should I? After this, I’ll never see her again…she’s going to be yours anyway...”

He clenched the knife in his hand. Jaemin pursed his lips into a curious pout.

“And why’s that? What do you mean, she’s going to be mine? I’m not interested in buying the painting if that’s what you--”

“Of course that’s not it! You’re going to be marrying her soon enough! You’re right, what you said before...there’s nothing I can do to save her from you…”

Jaemin’s face may as well have been pandora’s box. “What? What in the name of Sam Hill are you talking about? Why would I want to marry a painting…?”

Chenle deadpanned. At least the prince had looks going for him. “I’m not talking about the Emin of my dreams! I’m talking about the real one!”

“The...The real one…?”

“Yes!!”

“...Oh.”

He still didn’t get it. The artist facepalmed. “My Emin. She goes by…” He swallowed harshly, afraid to even speak your name aloud before the prince who’d be stealing you away. “...(y/n)...”

Jaemin seemed to be getting an awful lot of amusement out of the visual display of embarrassment the painter showed. “(Y/n)? As in, Viscountess (y/n)?”

“Don’t speak her name!! At least have the decency to wait until I’m dead before you do…”

“Why on Earth would I want to do a thing like that?” He rolled his eyes. “You sure do talk a lot about execution and death. Do you want to die?”

Chenle had to think about this for a moment. Did he want to die? Technically, without you, he was nothing. Empty. A blank canvas with nothing to show.

Then, there was his mother...with his brother overseas, he was the only one working to support the two of them other than herself. As much as he loved you, he didn’t want to leave her all alone…

...Then again, it wouldn’t matter anyway. His life was on a clock right now, ticking much faster than the average, everyday man’s. He was going to die soon regardless.

“...it doesn’t matter. I’m going to die anyway.”

The princely man blinked. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, placing a blistered hand over his faintly beating heart. “I’m...sick. I was born weak, with a strange illness no cleric has ever seen before. There’s no cure for it either, I...I honestly wasn’t expected to live this long. It’s a miracle I’m even still alive right now…”

“That doesn’t answer my original query.”

“What? Yes it does—“

“No, it doesn’t.” Jaemin tsked, shaking his head. “I asked you, do you want to die. Not if you’re going to or not.”

“...” Violently, Chenle shook his head no. The elder of the two grinned.

“Good! Then we can start preparing you for the wedding right away. Oh, and I’ll get you some medicine as well. Judging by your symptoms you have a condition that’s rare but not unheard of in Norwich. So long as you don’t over exert yourself, I can have a brew cooked up and in your hands in about a week, maybe two...give or take.”

He nearly choked. This was a lot of information, but the one thing that really caught his attention was... “W...Wedding?”

So now he expected him to go? To watch (y/n) be married off? To officially strip the last few remaining pigments of color out of his life?!

Oh, he’d be there alright. But not—

“Yeah. You have to be present for your own wedding. It’s sort of a requirement, actually.”

...A re...A require…

His own wedding?!

Just then the youngest Prince of Norwich returned, popping a bubble of some sticky-sweet substance between his lips on his way in. Jaemin beamed in delight.

“Oh, Jisung, perfect timing. I need you to go back down and bring me a tailor. Anyone will do, so long as he’s qualified.”

“Tailor?” Jisung’s face was scrunched up in obvious puzzlement. “But I just got back up here! What the heck do you need a tailor for? And who the heck is he?” He pointed to Chenle, blowing another pink bubble and popping it with his teeth. “Y’know, Dad told you to--”

“Again, Jisung, Mark is not our father.” He chastised. “...But yes, I know what he said. That’s not it, though.” He gestured to Chenle as if to present a showcase prize. “This colorful young fellow is...he’s uh...er…” He scratched his ear. “What did you say your name was again?”

Chenle almost didn’t want to tell him. But then he really, really did. Because he thought he knew where this was going, and if he was right; which he was; he didn’t want to miss out on this one and only golden opportunity to save you, to save his entire world, and to finally, surely, be able to leave this world in peace once his time was soon to come...in case he didn’t happen to get that medicine in time. “Chenle.”

“Chenle...~” Jaemin nodded. “That’s a wonderful name. I like it, really. It suits the future Viscount of Adderdale rather nicely. Let’s see...Chenle. Sir Chenle! Siiir Chenle...yes, yes, I like it.” He rubbed his chin in thought with a few more nods.

Jisung stared at him like he was dumb as rocks. “Uh, hello? I don’t get it. You’re telling me that this--” he pointed to Chenle-- “--poor kid off the street is going to marry Viscountess what’s-her-name? And not you? Don’t you think Dad-- I mean, Mark, is gonna be...kinda sus? And pissed? Not to mention Renjun and Jeno…”

Jaemin shrugged. “Hey, what can I say? I’d hate to stand in the way of true love...it would be wrong to steal away this young man’s girl when he obviously adores her more than I ever could.”

He winked. Jisung groaned. “You can’t just slack off your duties for some angsty teen romance novel fling! You’re gonna get us both in trouble!”

“......” The elder shook his head, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair. “I knew I should have brought Hyuck, and not you. It’ll be good for him, they said. You’ll be doing us a favor, they said. Aiyaiyai…”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Just go bring me a tailor already! I’ll deal with our brothers when we get home, but I’m this sure at the very least, Jeno would agree with me.”

He held his fingers inches apart, and Jisung deflated a little, beginning to cave. His brother just kept on rambling.

“...We’ll have to get him cleaned up...and do something about that hair...I doubt any of my clothes will fit him, much less my wedding attire…”

Finally the youngest rolled his eyes, and as he shut the door behind him Chenle could hardly breathe. He just couldn’t believe it.

He was getting a second chance. He was going to marry his Emin.

✦

“Are you sure you understand the plan?”

“Yes.”

“And you know where to go when I give the signal?”

“Yes…”

“And you’re absolutely sure you--”

“Oh my gosh, Jaemin, he gets it already!” Jisung snapped. “Just hurry up and get out there before they start suspecting anything! I can’t believe I’m playing along with this…”

With a determined nod Jaemin took off out into the bustling chapel, everyone getting ready to take their places for the celebratory event. Because everything had to be just perfect, the Norwich Prince was directed to take his place in a back hallway, where he’d be escorted out onto the platform by high-ranking officials.

Chenle watched with nervous breadth. What if something went wrong? What if Jaemin changed his mind the moment he saw you walking out, looking like a waking dream? The personification of sheer beauty and ethereal godliness? A goddess among goddesses, Aphrodite herself?

He wouldn’t be able to take it. He’d have to stab himself in the heart and end it all right then and there--

“Hey.”

He looked over to Jisung, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Stop being so overdramatic. You’re worse than Haechan when he’s drunk off his ass.”

“Who?”

He blew another bubble, allowing it to pop at the peak of his eye roll. “Never mind. Listen...you don’t have anything to worry about. Jaemin’s not like that. Whatever you were thinking. He’s a good guy, really...also...I uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning his eyes away. “I think you guys look good together. You and um…(y/n)?”

He casted him a sideways glance for confirmation, and when Chenle nodded, he returned the gesture. “Yeah, (y/n)...I saw you guys together, out in the front garden a few days ago...my ship arrived here before my brother’s. He took too long getting ready, so I set off without him.” He shrugged. “Anyway...the two of you seemed to be having a disagreement of sorts, but...I don’t know, the way you were staring at each other, deep into the other’s eyes, I could tell you were really close. Like an old flame or something.”

...An old flame...Chenle didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but— he was at a loss for words.

Then the youngest prince said something that really took his breath away. “Y’know...I think that, maybe, you and me could have been great friends if we’d grown up together.” He smiled, a small one, but one nonetheless. “I know this is kind of sudden, since we barely know each other, but...I think I would have liked that. You should come visit us in Norwich sometime. You’d love it there, honestly— the Winters are beautiful.”

It was out there so suddenly, so kindly worded, Chenle didn’t know how to process it all. Him? Having friends? He’d been sick his whole life, the only people ever paying him any kind of attention being his mother and his brother when he’d been around and...of course, you...the day you found him laying out on the street within an inch of his life, and you rescued him from certain death, he immediately knew you were the one. He’d instantly fallen in love with you. Those feelings only grew and grew over time…

However...the thought of having a friend…

He didn’t think he knew the answer. But the palette in his mind was equipped with a bright, yellow color, and he found himself nodding meekly before he knew what he was doing.

Jisung tilted his head back in a pleased indication that he’d gotten the message of what Chenle had meant to say, even though no words would come to him; after all, the boy was an artist, not a poet. “I should probably take my seat. Good luck out there.”

With a pat on the back, he crossed the threshold.

Now all that was left was for him to wait.

✦

It’d be an understatement to say that you were nervous. Because you weren’t; you were more than nervous, you were practically horrified.

You’d thought you could handle it. Really, you did. But the moment it actually started happening, it was instantly all too much; only now it was ten times worse, because it was actually happening in real time.

First the music started to play, a gorgeous symphony of organs and strings. The Queen had even hired a quartet of flautists to play in harmony to the familiar chorus of Canon in D Major. The flower girl made her entrance first, tossing flower petals down the aisle and into the waiting audience. They gushed and cooed over how cute she was, muttering comments of how handsome of a boy the ring bearer behind her would grow up to be, though he was practically more of a man than a boy...that ring bearer being…

...Zhong Chenle? What?!

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at the sight of him, striding into the room with such perfect posture and well-to-do attire. He looked like a prince out of a fairytale novel.

But what on Earth was he doing here…?

“My Lady, it’s time,” called a maid. You had a hard time peeling your eyes away, but you were able to nonetheless with a bit of effort on both yours and the maids parts as they pulled you away to your proper waiting station outside.

It broke your heart that he’d gotten himself roped into this, and you had no idea how he’d done it, but maybe after this, at least, you could send him off with a proper goodbye…

✦

He’d been too nervous. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to do something.

So the second the melody of Beetovhen’s chorus flitted about the room, he snatched the rings from a boy waiting nearby, stumbling his way in right behind a small flower girl and immediately righting the way he carried himself.

He could feel Jaemin’s eyes on him from the far off hall where he peeked behind a curtain, pleading for him to turn back. He could hear Jisung’s ragged breathy sigh, calling him an idiot.

But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t. This was all for you...and anyway, it was too late to change anything about the choice he’d made now.

He paused at the foot of the altar, going to the opposite side where the men waited as traditional Adderdale weddings he’d witnessed in his lifetime. Then he took a deep, shaky breath, fighting back the urge to cough as a tickle made its way to the back of his throat.

Not now. Not now. Please, not now.

The small orchestra suddenly broke out into the Norwich national anthem, and Jaemin made his appearance, walking tall and proud and princely to stand at his place atop the altar; temporarily, that is.

He sent Chenle a sly wink from where the boy stood just two feet behind him.

“It’s alright. We can still make this work out. I know you must be incredibly nervous right now; I would be, too, were I the one getting married today.”

Curse the man. Chenle couldn’t help but smile.

Then it was the moment everyone had been anticipating: as the Norwichian anthem came to a whole-noted close, a circle of guards surrounding the chapel stepped forward from their placement along the surrounding walls in unison, saluting as the King and Queen entered, followed by the Duchess and a few other nobles Chenle never paid enough attention to remember the names of. They each took their seats, and then...then…

The most beautiful harmonic arrangement began to play, and everyone quieted straightaway, the room falling instantly silent as a gentle hush fell over the crowd. The familiar melodic tune of Here Comes The Bride circled round and round the room, and within seconds all eyes were on what had to be...what surely was...he just…

He wasn’t a poet, as was mentioned before. There were simply no words yet in existence to describe how...how…

You were perfect. That’s the best way he could think to paint it; and speaking of paint, he wanted to capture this moment so badly on canvas and…

No. In reality, he wanted you all to himself. He didn’t want anyone to see you looking so beautiful, for fear that they may steal you away from him as the palace did years ago, and as Jaemin almost had (or would have) that very day.

You approached the aisle at a slow, leisurely pace, crisp and clean and glowing with pristine perfection as two more flower girls hurried before you, and an ensemble of maids held up the trail of your dress and veil whilst shadowing at your heels.

Chenle desperately wanted to knock them all over and scurry out of there with you in his arms. If only he were strong and brave enough to do a thing like that…

The urge to cough was getting worse. He tried clearing his throat beneath the guise of the fluttering chorus, but that only seemed to make the need more prominent.

As you finally made your way up the altar steps, it was then that he simply couldn’t take it anymore. Something in him went black, shutting down, and he…

He collapsed.

✦

A series of gasps and astonished cries reverberated off the chapel walls and stained glass windows as the boy you hardly recognized hit the ground with a pain-filled grunt.

Acting quickly Prince Jaemin nearly threw himself down to help your dearest friend, pushing guards and other palace help out of the way when they tried to draw near. You yourself tossed the bouquet of wildflowers the Queen had insisted you carry (the national flower of Norwich) over your shoulder, a few stuck-up and self-centered bridesmaids scrambling to catch it and squealing excitedly about which of the other princes were available to marry.

Jisung had shut them up pretty fast with a rude remark, but you were too focused on the topic at hand to hear exactly what it was.

“Chenle!” you cried, lifting the limp boy in your arms. “Oh, Chenle...please say something…!”

This was it. You were afraid something like this might happen one day. But you’d never thought it would be so soon...Chenle’s illness was no surprise to you; you’d known about it for quite some time. In fact, it was you that had secretly been funding a portion of his monthly checkups with a palace cleric, a silent agreement you’d made with his grateful mother.

And now it was really happening. He was dying right here in your arms. You hated that your brain immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion, but...what else could it be? He’d never had a fit this bad before...not that you knew of, at least.

Chenle simpered up at you weakly as a tear crossed the distance from your cheek to his, reaching up an unsteady hand to caress away the tears. Your face shouldn’t be sullied with worry over his sake. “D...Don’t cry…” His chest heaved violently, feeble frame shivering between each ragged cough. “...I’ll be...okay...I…” He took a deep, deep breath. You held onto yours.

And then it was said. The words you never thought you would ever hear, never thought you wanted to hear, never thought you would be the one to say:

“I love you, Chenle. I love you so much...”

Tears were pouring down your face now, his shivers contaminating your body as you shook along with him, exposing your heart and soul over the dying young artist.

“Please don’t leave. Stay with me...wherever you go, I’ll go, and wherever you stay, I too will stay...I don’t care if you’re sick, or that you come from a broken family, or that you’re poor, or dirty, or weak. You’ve always hated that about yourself, but none of that matters to me...you’re just Chenle to me. Just Chenle...I’ll...I’ll be your sword and shield, your strength and shelter. I’ll follow you to the ends of this very Earth, and I...I love you, Chenle...it would be my honor to take care of you, for the rest of our days. Just don’t leave me…!”

Your eyes were squeezed shut at this point, trying to stop the flood of facepaint from raining off the thundercloud of emotion that was currently your face, and when Chenle’s hand fell limp in yours you gasped, throwing your eyes open…

And seeing that he was sitting up. Calming down. Gathering himself.

He...wasn’t dying…?

Jaemin heaved a heavy-laden sigh relief as he pulled out a needle from the boy’s opposite arm. “Thank the good Lord you brought an emergency antidote with you...nice one, Jisung.”

Another blonde-haired boy sighed. “Well, you know, really Renjun forced it on me, but...y’know.” He shrugged.

Profoundly, you turned your attention back to Chenle. He was looking at you with stars in his eyes.

Suddenly everything you had just revealed deep down in the recesses of your heart came swinging back to whop you in the face, and you just knew you must have resembled the reddest tomato out back in the royal vegetable garden. You attempted to once more hide your blushing face--

Of course, Chenle had other ideas in mind. Of course, he had cupped your messy tear-stained face, placing a...kiss…?!

You melted into it, and so did he, the colors and clarity and butterflies all swirling together. For now you were receiving a reality neither of you had ever thought to be possible, and now, finally, he was able to mix his palette with yours. And it wasn’t a mess as he feared; it was a beautiful masterpiece.

Jaemin was the first one to applaud, and soon, hesitantly at first, the rest of the chapel began to follow.

“I’d say you may now kiss the bride, but uh...it appears to be a little too late for that,” he jested. His brother frowned, rolling his eyes with another blow of gum.

“Ya think?”

“...”

He smirked, popping the bubble in his face and everyone gasping with laughter as it exploded there.

“Shut up.”

✦

“Hey, wife?”

“Yes, Chenle?”

He frowned, his face sagging at the ends. “You’re supposed to say, husband.”

“Oh,” you laughed, moving on to the next exhibit as the two of you walked around the new art studio, hand in hand, taking in each and every piece of the artist’s work on display. “Sorry, sorry. Ahem…” You started again. “Yes, husband?”

Chenle hummed happily, his whole face beaming with pure joy and delight. He seemed to be spacing out, tossing his head from side to side as if doing a little jig in his mind.

“...Chenle. Chenle? Helloooo…?” You waved your hand in front of his face, and he winced, snapping back to you quickly with the goofiest grin you’d ever seen.

He really was so cute. “Yes, (Y/n)? I mean, wife?”

You shook your head. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Tell you…? Oh, yeah!” He continued to stare at you a bit too intently. “Have I told you I love you today? Because I do. And I just want to make sure that you know how much I--”

You let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and more laughter, wrapping an arm around his as the two of you continued to stroll around the winding halls. “Yes, Chen--”

He gave you a deadpan.

“...I mean, husband. Husband.” you assured him. “Yes, you have. This would be the twenty-eighth time now.”

He gave a smug and satisfied smirk that was all too cute on his yet again paint-stained face. The moment the medicine from Norwich had come in, Chenle’s health had rapidly improved, and he was able to paint in a way you’d never witnessed him do before: peacefully. Happily. Content. It was a marvelous sight to behold.

Despite the lack of another knot tied uniting the lands of Norwich and Adderdale, negotiations and trade among the two lands had been carrying on better than ever; swimmingly, in fact. You and Chenle were set to visit Norwich Palace for a business meeting and tea within the coming weeks. They all couldn’t have been more pleased with the outcome of things; according to a recent letter from Jaemin, who was now a good friend of yours, their brother’s had wished you and Chenle the best of luck and sent you their love and blessings in the new relationship. Apparently their brother Hyuck had even cried a little...but in his defense, the prince wrote, the boy was rather drunk.

The two of you came to stop before Chenle’s latest masterpiece: Emin No. 59. A portrait of the girl who looked like you in a wedding gown suspiciously similar to yours, standing with dignity and grace atop the chapel altar, surrounded by birds and squirrels and other wildlife, the sun shading colors of the rainbow upon her skin...he may as well have titled the piece Snow White.

“Say, Chenle...ah, husband...” You pursed your lips profusely in an overzealous pout. “You never told me: why do you call her that? Why Emin?”

“......” Chenle was quiet all of ten seconds as he formed his response. He smiled tenfold, putting all previous glee to shame, the light from the coming sunset casting small spotlights through cracks in the palace curtains that highlighted all your best features; which would have been all of you, to him at least. “Because…” he replied, taking your hands into his and kissing your knuckles softly. Something he’d be doing everyday, every waking moment he saw you, for the rest of his life. “You’re Emin. My Emin...and you’re all mine.” ღ

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