#this pink is still very fresh over the top of fresh bleached hair so it may take a bit to fade

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

I'm getting a haircut today and I can picture my hairstylists disappointed face when she sees that I bleached and dyed it at home again 🙃

[arrowflier]

My water heater is broken, and I had my first hot shower in two weeks visiting my parents this weekend.  It made me think of this.

Cleansed

Mickey had never really thought that the Gallagher bathroom was anything special.  A spit-splattered mirror, cracked tiles, and a toilet that wouldn’t flush unless you jiggled the handle—even he’d grown up with that much.

But right now, standing naked in the center of it as steam starts to fill the room, listening to the soft splash of water on over-scrubbed porcelain and the quiet rattle of metal rings as he pulls back the curtain, he thinks it might be the best fucking bathroom he’s ever seen.

Water is already filling the bottom of the tub, pouring out faster than it can drain through old, clogged pipes.  But it’s warm when Mickey steps in, as it swirls around his aching feet, and if he closes his eyes he thinks it might feel like the ocean had back in Mexico.

He doesn’t, though.  He keeps them open.  

Open, so he can see where he is.  Not for safety, but to make sure it stays real.  He tugs the curtain closed, a flimsy thing covered in childish patterns that barely even keeps the water inside, and feels more secure than he ever had with three guards watching and a wall at his back.

The stream from the shower head is weak.  He ducks his head into the spray, lets it trickle down over him like rain.  Light, and soft, and welcome, and so unlike the hose-like cleaning he’s come to expect that his shoulders relax despite the lack of pressure.

His eyes do close then, despite himself.  Just for a moment, one single blissful second when nothing else exists.  Then there’s a voice in the hallway, someone walking, and they’re open again in an instant.

But he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t need to.

He does, however, need to get clean.  Needs to wash of the stench of prison, the remnants of the past.  The bits of roadside gravel still stuck in the scrapes on his hands.

And his options seem extensive, all of a sudden, as he eyes the brightly colored bottles that line the edge of the tub.  So much more than the shared bar of soap he’d been using for months.  There’s something pink and flowery, the label faded from overuse; an organic wash for “baby-soft skin” that looks like something out of a magazine ad; a half-used bottle of blue dishsoap with suds running down the sides; a bar of Irish Spring that’s been used down to the last misshapen sliver and then stacked on top of a new one rather than wasted.

Mickey reaches out.  Hesitates with his hand over the soap he knows is Ian’s, before it veers left.  He pours out a healthy dollop of creamy organic bullshit onto a faded washcloth—he never thought he’d be so glad to see a rag that hadn’t been bleached beyond the very concept of color—and works it into a lather.

Even taking his time, it goes quickly.  He’s too used to rushing, too used to making the most of every second.  But the wash feels good on his skin, the grime rinsing off with the soap to stain the water around his feet like sand, and eventually even the puddle he stands in is clear again.

He swipes the washcloth once more over his chest, eyes scanning lazily over a bottle of shampoo, a child’s chipped bath toy, and woman’s razor, a worn loofah, a—

His eyes go back to the razor, washcloth slowing.  Suds cling to the hair on his chest, clean but mussed.  Dark over the ink he knows is there, no matter how many times he thought it might be better to forget.  Ink that’s more part of him than parts of his own body.  Ink that he trapped there under his skin and never let free.

He grabs the razor, and a can of girly shaving gel.  

-

The water has been running a long time.  It’s fine, Ian told him to take as long as he likes.  Is glad that he’s taken him up on it, that he’s comfortable enough to do so in a house that’s apparently full of strangers.

But he knows the hot water will run out soon, and he doesn’t want Mickey to get cold.  So he grabs a change of clothes, a fresh towel, and sneaks through the door as quietly as he can to leave them.

“Who’s there?” Mickey calls out anyway as Ian sets the load carefully on the closed lid of the toilet.  A dark head pops out from behind the curtain, rosy-cheeked from the heat, blue eyes narrowed under wet lashes.

“Ian?” Mickey asks.  “What’re you—“

“Sorry,” Ian rushes to apologize, backing up with both hands out.  “Not trying to interrupt, I know what a big deal that first shower is when you get out.”  He chuckles a little, and adds, “First time in a year without keeping your back to the wall, it’s kind of weird, right?”

“Ian,” Mickey says again, softer.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” Ian rambles.  “Let you have some time alone for once.  And if you need anything just let me—“

He tries to back out the door.  But Mickey steps one foot out of the tub, reaches out with a dripping arm to grab Ian’s wrist.

Ian stares at the point of connection.  Pink skin on pale, water beading along the seam.  Mickey’s hand slips, slides away, and Ian clasps his own tight just in time to catch the very tips of his fingers.

Mickey tugs them back.  Slowly, gently.  Bringing Ian with him through that tenuous connection.

“Come on,” he murmurs, stepping back into the standing water at the bottom of the tub.  

Ian follows mindlessly.  Steps in without even taking off his socks, his sweats, his shirt.  Lets Mickey move his hand up to a broad shoulder, lets it slide down when he lets go.  Settles it over the familiar shape of his own name standing out proudly on suddenly smooth skin.

Mickey reaches up, rests a hand over Ian’s on his chest.  Then he turns around.

“Could use some help with my back,” he says quietly, and Ian swallows back a million words.  A million little phrases to show that he gets it, that he knows what that means.

Instead, he takes hold of the bottle Mickey hands him—the expensive stuff he’d bought on a whim when he got out, eager for all things good until the best came back to him—and gets to work.

[lavenderbexlatte]

sitting pretty

stray kids  2.4k words female reader insert Dom!Reader x Sub!Bang Chan EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: dom/sub dynamics, hard dom antics, degradation, dom title “miss” sub title “puppy,” kink negotiation, collar and leash play, nipple piercings 🖤

🚨🚨 always communicate clearly and thoroughly with your partner before you add new kinks/kinds of play to the bedroom!

connect with me! / masterlist

Everyone who thinks Bang Chan likes to be in charge everywhere, including in bed, should see him now.

You know how he comes across: controlled, silly but largely responsible, self-sacrificial and humble, the oldest and most experienced in his group of shiny-eyed not-so-new industry blood. And he is all of those things. To his own detriment, you think. He thinks too much, worries too much about what he’s doing and saying and how he looks from the outside.

Here, he doesn’t have to worry at all.

Chan had arrived at your place half an hour before, in the dead of the night after a long day of schedules, exhausted to the bone but eager for some positive attention. Well. You have plenty of attention and affection to give, even if it comes out in…interesting ways.

The two of you found your way into the bedroom quickly enough. Clothes were shed, terms of the scene laid out, the traffic-light safeword system instilled like usual. And now, you’re slowing it all down, just enjoying the delicious view of your boyfriend as he blushes and fidgets his way through your latest innovation.

“Is that too tight?” you ask.

“No.”

You reach down to slip a finger under the sturdy black collar that circles Chan’s neck, making sure that there’s enough give. The digit fits easily, so you’re not worried that he’s lying and risking harm just to get more stimulation.

“I said it was okay,” he says good-naturedly, eyes still on the floor.

“Are you talking back?” you tease.

You nudge his head upward with your hand as you draw it back, and he meets your gaze. The two of you cut quite the figure in the dim light of your bedroom. He’s flushed all the way down to his toes. You know that for certain; he’s nude except for the collar, knelt on the floor at your feet as you lounge on the edge of your bed, shirt long gone and breasts bare to the room.

His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, and his cock is already standing out proudly, so hard even though you’ve barely started.

“No, miss,” he says.

“You’re gonna be my good boy, aren’t you?” you coo.

He looks mortified, self-conscious but also so, so intrigued. You raise your other hand and it amuses you how he follows it with his eyes.

His collar isn’t just an accessory tonight. Clutched in your hand, you have the end of a thin leather leash, brand-new and still creased from the way it was coiled in your toybox until Chan could come break it in with you. The other end is clipped to the thick O-ring on his collar, and as you give an experimental tug, the collar bends toward you easily, making Chan gasp as it digs into his skin.

“I’ll be good,” he agrees.

“You’d better be.”

Your hand dips down, further this time, and tweaks one of the black barbells that are pierced through each of Chan’s nipples. He jumps at your touch, and you huff out a laugh. Though the piercings have gotten much less sensitive over time, he still acts like they’re fresh during playtimes. Maybe the arousal makes the sensation more pronounced. You’re not sure. You just know how much you love it when he’s whining and squirming for you.

“Sitting pretty for me,” you say, “Listening and keeping that mouth shut, like a good boy.”

He just regards you, his ears flaming red. You’ve said much more to him in the bedroom before, you know his limits and his tells well enough. He’s not truly uncomfortable, just embarrassed at the mingling praise and backhanded compliments. You keep going.

“On a leash like a dog.”

A whine slips out of Chan’s mouth before he can stop it, his gaze back on the floor. Jackpot.

“Oh, you like that?” you ask, “You like being my dumb little puppy? Only good for listening and doing as you’re told?”

“I don’t mind it, miss,” he says, voice barely loud enough to hear.

You slide forward more on the bed, bringing Chan into easier reach. He’s so pretty like this, just waiting for you to say something, to do something, to touch him more. 

His hair is blonde now, recently bleached, all wild natural curls in a vivid near-platinum color. You tangle your fingers in his hair indulgently, right at his hairline, and tug sharply so that he has no choice but to look up at you again.

“Are you shy, puppy?” you say condescendingly.

“A little bit, miss,” he admits.

“At least you’re honest.”

You fall back onto the bed, laying down more fully and propping yourself up on your elbows so that you can still see him. At this angle, your pussy is level with his face, and you spread your legs apart as if to give him a better look. He can’t see anything, since you’re still clothed on your lower half, but you watch Chan’s throat and the collar move as he swallows.

“Eager,” you tease.

He’s blunt, “Yes.”

“Can’t do anything unless you undress me, puppy,” you encourage.

Slowly, Chan unfolds his hands from behind his back, and he comes forward to slide his hands under the waistband of your lounge pants. You lift your hips so that he can pull them over your ass and ease them down your legs. He discards the pants, taking his sweet-ass time on it, and then moves to pull your panties down, too.

When you’re bare to him, he sits back on his heels to wait for your next instructions. It makes you nearly purr with satisfaction. Such an obedient boy. He’s always pliant and eager to please, but there’s something heavier and more desperate to it tonight, with the new power dynamic that you’re exploring together.  

You tug on the leash, urging him forward. He follows, leaning into the gentle pull on his neck, until you’ve guided him between your thighs. He’s essentially crawling to you on hand and knees, and you can tell that he’s aware of exactly how he looks doing it.

“Do you want to taste?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says, immediately.

“Go ahead.”

Chan reaches out, as if to grab hold of your thighs before he begins, but you stop him.

“No hands,” you instruct.

“But…but…”

“Can puppies use their hands?” you ask.

“…No,” he says, grudging.

You can tell that the puppy play is embarrassing him as much as it’s arousing him. It interests you. Some people are really into pet play for its own sake. They like the pet names and the mindless role of it all, just happy to explore in a new way. 

But for Chan, it seems perversely satisfying in the same way that degradation can be. It’s not that he loves being your puppy, but he loves you flexing your power over him. He loves trying out anything for you, just once, with permission and tender attentive care.

Truly your best boy. Best boy in the world.

“You can always safeword,” you remind him gently.

But he shakes his head. “Green.”

“Make me cum then,” you say, “But no hands.”

You give another tug on the leash as if to motivate him, but Chan doesn’t need any more encouragement.

He dives in fully, locating your clit with practiced precision and tracing circles around it, then over it, with an experienced tongue. Still propped up on your elbows, you can see his eyes flutter shut, long lashes falling against his cheek. He really is so beautiful, still knelt there on the floor between your legs, licking and sucking and kissing at your pussy like he’s got no more important task in the world.

The embarrassed burn is starting to fade from his ears, leaving him just his usual arousal-flushed pink that you love so much. He’s relaxing as he pleasures you, quietly taking his cues from your small sounds and hips grinding into his face.

“I missed you with blonde hair,” you say, through the arousal that’s steadily building and clouding your mind.

He laughs, the sound stifled as he continues to eat you out with abandon. His arms are still neatly by his sides, from what you can see, and really, he doesn’t need them. Circling your clit, sucking the bud between his lips, fucking his tongue into you gently…he’s plenty good with just his mouth.

You decide he needs a bit more of a challenge, and you tug on his leash so that it digs into the smooth sinewy column of his pretty neck.

A strangled word that almost sounds like begging catches your attention.

Chan is, first and foremost, eager to please. If a scene is focused on you, he doesn’t beg or even ask for very much. He’s not a brat, that’s for certain. The perfect service top, giving to a fault, much the same way that he likes to be in the other areas of his life. It’s part of the reason you feel the need to take full control and spoil him so much.

But now, here, as you wrap the end of the leash around your wrist and increase the pressure on his throat, he breaks.

“More.”

It’s just a rasp, a gentle whining request that has you breathing out a laugh through your own pleasure.

“What was that?” you ask, “You want me to pull harder, hm?”

He just looks up at you, eyes shiny and slightly glazed. His tongue is still moving against you in perfect time, and you give him a dark smile.

“My poor dumb puppy, so pussy-drunk he can’t even string two words together,” you say.

You give another tug on the leash, harder than all the previous times. It’s not enough force to pull him away from your core, but it’s plenty to cut off his breathing for a split second. When you let the line go slack in your hand, Chan gasps in a breath that turns almost immediately into a helpless moan.

Satisfied with his reaction, you give him a moment to recover. But as you tune into him for any sounds or signs of discomfort, you notice a very distinct sound of skin on skin.

He’s not touching you. But if you’re not mistaken, he IS touching…

“What are you doing?” you ask sharply.

Chan freezes. His mouth stops moving, that skin-on-skin sound stops, and you can feel him huff out an anxious breath against your inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” you repeat.

“I…” he hesitates.

You sit up more fully, and Chan’s eyes are trained on your face as you look down to see him with his cock in hand, slick with precome.

“Y-you…you didn’t say I couldn’t…” he mumbles, letting go of his cock reluctantly.

“I didn’t say you could, either,” you counter sharply.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

You tut. “Does eating pussy just make you that fucking horny, puppy? So horny that you have to jerk yourself off without asking first?”

Almost imperceptibly, Chan nods.

“Use your words,” you say.

“I do love making you feel good, miss,” he says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He hesitates. “Y-yes, eating pussy makes me that horny, miss. I couldn’t help it.”

“See, not that hard, is it, puppy? Using your words?”

Chan nods again.

You give him a soft smile, a genuine one. As much as you love pushing his buttons and making him squirm with the obscene things you can coax out of his mouth, you love him most of all. He returns it in kind, a shy little smile.

“You’re not gonna touch yourself without permission, are you?” you ask.

“No, miss.”

“Good boy.”

Another tug on the leash is all it takes to get his mouth back on you, the hot wet slide against your clit after a period of rest hitting just right, your nerves prickling with the sharp stimulation. You’re suddenly much closer than before, and you let your hips roll into the pressure shamelessly.

“Make me cum, and then we’ll see about you,” you say.

Chan mumbles a reply that you can’t quite hear, but you’re not about to make him repeat himself and risk breaking his stride. You’ve let your eyes slide closed, dedicated only to enjoying.

The response from practically choking him with the collar was absolutely delicious, so you wrap the leash another loop around your fist and tug. Chan moans, cut off into a gasp in the middle by the lack of air, and he leans his head against your thigh as he catches his breath.

“Miss, if you keep doing that…” Chan breathes.

“What, you’ll cum all over yourself like a filthy little pup?” you chide.

He just whines, and continues his careful assault on your folds, determined to make you cum before he loses his mind entirely.

Fortunately, the constant and steady feeling of his mouth on you, the obscene sounds of your wetness on his tongue, the little noises he’s making under his breath as he’s savoring you, all combine to drive you closer and closer to your high.

You peel open your eyes, and the sight of him is the final thing you need to push yourself over the edge.

Kneeling on the hardwood, blonde hair mussed and curly and wild, eyes shut, dick leaking precome against his thigh, hands once again clasped behind his back as if to fully resist the temptation to touch after he’s been told not to.

Gorgeous.

Your back bows as you cum, and you have one hand tugging at the leash and the other hand fisted in Chan’s hair, holding his mouth against you as you gasp out his name. He dutifully licks you through the tremors of it, not stopping until you’ve begun to nearly writhe away from him from the overstimulation.

“See, what did I say?” you tell him, as you catch your breath, falling fully onto your back to stretch out, “Gotta keep that mouth busy.”

“Is it my turn, miss?” he asks.

He sounds impatient, a little bit of bite leaking into his words, and you grin to yourself. You turn your torso until your spine pops, releasing some of the tension in your bones, and you swing back up into a sitting position. Chan has relaxed to sit fully on his heels, just watching you with big puppy eyes.

“You’re lucky I’m so nice,” you tease, ruffling his hair affectionately, “If you pull another stunt like that, I’ll have to put you in cuffs.”

[kiri-ah]

Something To Sink My Teeth Into || he/him pronouns version

Themes: Supernatural AU, Vampire AU, strangers to lovers, angst and fluff (so much fluff), something similar to those symbiotes from Venom and Hanahaki disease combined, interplanar travel, Jaemin and the reader are oblivious and Chenle gets mad about it, long conversations about vampires, vampires can't cry

Pairing: Vampire!Jaemin x Male Human!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood (minor), mentions of eating (human food and vampire food), character death, Chenle is kind of a butthole, in depth conversations about humans and vampires which include biting and blood drinking, Yuta's house gets set on fire

Word Count: 26.4k

Summary: A trip to Poland goes terribly wrong - or maybe terribly right - when you're bitten and kidnapped by a vampire. Between passing out, almost dying multiple times, and falling in love, you have a lot on your plate. Oh, and the magic. Right. Teaser here.

A/N: Okay so uh... this wasn't meant to be this long. I hate my brain sometimes. *sigh*

This has only been edited by myself and a friend of mine, please excuse any errors. I worked hard to make the best experience possible. For that reason, please note that this is the !he/him pronouns version! They/them pronouns may be found here, she/her pronouns here. Please enjoy!

You were on holiday in Krakow, Poland. For your twenty first birthday, your parents had gifted you a weeklong trip over Spring Break, and you had been having the time of your life. You had found Krakow rich in historical influence - it had been the capital of Poland until 1596 and still had remnants of the past, like a Renaissance-era trading post and sections of the medieval walls that surrounded the city. Plus, the section of the city that you were staying in was very close to the city center, where you discovered aforementioned trading post, called the Cloth Hall, and an old cathedral named St. Mary’s Basilica.

The first night of your stay, Sunday night, you had struggled to sleep, because of the time difference and the excitement of arriving. You stayed in Monday morning, trying to at least rest a bit, and then ventured out to the nearest coffee shop when that didn’t alleviate your sleepiness. The barista had whipped up your favorite pick-me-up morning drink, and you went to sit outside in the fresh air, surveying the plaza over the rim of your cup. It was just the right time of year, you thought, because it was nice and warm without being too hot, just how you liked it. The sun had started to rise about the buildings around you, illuminating certain structures and giving them an unearthly glow.

When you finished your drink, you put the cup into the collection bin and walked back out onto the main square, just enjoying the sun on your face (over the sunglasses you had bought in the airport after forgetting to pack yours) and letting the warmth sink through your limbs after the tired night. One of the unfortunate things about the time of year you had travelled was the tourists. There were families and older couples and people your age taking trips with their friends, and most everyone stayed right where you were staying as well: right in the heart of the city. To avoid as many crowds as possible, you had booked a tour of St. Mary’s Basilica for Thursday morning, and reserved entry to the underground museum for this afternoon.

Tomorrow you planned to go and see Grodzka Street, where you were going to try and find a souvenir. In the same neighborhood was an ancient church called St. Andrew’s Church, which dated back to around 1079. On Wednesday, you were going to brave the crowds of people in the Cloth Hall for the same purpose, and also because it was a historical landmark that you just needed to explore. Wednesday afternoon was blocked out to be a rest period, as was Thursday morning. Then on Friday you were planning to go and see the Wawel Castle and Cathedral. From there you would explore the various attractions on the property, and then return to the plaza later to eat. That afternoon, you planned to go to the Jewish cemetery. Saturday was blocked out for a trip to Auschwitz-Birkenau, which was a Nazi concentration camp and a Holocaust memorial out of the main town. When you returned to the hotel late that afternoon you would pack and get ready for your flight Sunday morning. It was going to be a very full and very fun week. Or at least you hoped it would be fun.

You explored the main square a little bit that first day and unpacked your things, making sure you had everything you needed for your trip and you didn’t need to walk to one of the convenience stores nearby.

The days passed quickly, and you finished each one completely satisfied. Everything and everyone here was so wonderful and you started to wonder how you had never heard of this place before this trip. It was absolutely one of the best places your parents could have picked.

On Friday morning you got up bright and early (well, actually, it was dark and early) to go to the Wawel Castle. You had heard from a travelling site that tickets sold out fast and it was important to get there early in the day, and you tried to heed that warning. At 7am when you arrived it was already busy, but thankfully not so much that the lines were too long. You wandered through the small exhibits and around the grounds. It was a bit more chilly today and you wrapped a scarf around your neck as you shivered, trying to find a less windy spot to hide out for a second. You found a little spot where you could take a moment and recharge your inner heater and were doing just that, burrowing into your small scarf mountain, when you realized that a person stood next to you. You looked up through your lashes at them and caught your breath - holy cow he had good genes. He had a sharp, sloping jawline that stopped at a chin less pointy than you had expected. His lips were plush and round, although he needed some chapstick. His hair was pushed around by the wind but despite that he looked, well, amazing. Sections were bleached, giving his hair an almost halo-esque look. His nostrils contracted as he inhaled and then his eyes cut down to yours, dark and deep and was that eyeliner?

He smiled then, a smirk that seemed far too self-assured for the situation, and leaned over towards your exposed ear. “I can feel you staring, baby,” he murmured. The top of your ear, which had been feeling rather numb, flamed hot at his words. It almost hurt, the sudden jump into heat. You turned towards him fully, only eyes exposed by the scarf mountain. Your hair whipped around as the wind shifted again, but he didn’t seem cold, although he was in only a pair of black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket. The jacket caught your attention for a second - it was studded with thousands of little rhinestones, like a varsity jacket gone shiny. Then he shifted closer into your space and you were forced to look back at his eyes, glittering in a way that seemed almost predatory. You sucked in a breath through your mouth and started to back away.

“S-sorry,” your breath came out in a whisper. Nobody seemed to notice your interaction. “I didn’t see you there, I’ll just leave.” You turned to go before his hand, surprisingly strong, clamped around your arm and pulled you back into his chest.

His voice came out in a growl as he blocked your scream with his other hand. “I am far, far too hungry for you to leave right now, precious.” The strength in your legs seemed to dissipate at his tone, you knew you needed to defend yourself, but ‘hungry’? What was that about? And precious? The hand wrapped around your arm let go and started unwrapping your scarf, exposing your face to both him and the frigid wind. He started to lean down, and you pressed your lips together tightly. At the very least, he wasn’t getting in your mouth. You may have lost the strength in your legs, but not in your will. Then he bypassed your mouth and leaned into your neck, inhaling and causing cold air to course along the column of your throat. He chuckled when you shivered, then bit into your neck.

The pain was overwhelming, you could feel each individual blood cell crying out, every organ protesting, your head started to pound with it. It hurt far more than even a dog bite should. It hurt like a shot at the doctor going on and on, echoing through your body and you were powerless to stop it. The pain flared in your neck and your brain seemed to slow down as the blood flowed away from it and into his mouth. You crumbled into him, and without detaching from your throat, he scooped you up into his arms, holding you there to be his personal bloodbag. You had long since stopped trying to scream, it was too difficult, too much effort.

Vampires, your thoughts whispered, before the pain covered you and you passed out, collapsing completely.

☽༓☾

You woke up in a... cozy cottage? There wasn’t any sign of your attacker and, in fact, no sign of anything vampire esque either. You looked around the single room at the soft fabric couch (covered in boho style throw pillows), the kitchenette (complete with pre packed food), and the window, through which you could see a combination flower and vegetable garden. There were two doors off of the room you were in, one that led towards the lush green outside, and one that must have concealed the bathroom.

The moment you realized this, you also realized that you really needed to use said bathroom, and struggled to plant your bare feet on the floor. Your legs didn't want to hold your weight, and you crumbled to the rug with a whine. Two seconds later, the door to the outside opened with a swish of fresh air and there, outlined by the sun, stood the most gorgeous person you had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. When he saw you on the floor, he groaned and ran a hand through his pink hair. "Shit, I'm so sorry, let me help you!" He ran over and you allowed him to half carry you into the bathroom. It wasn’t like you had any strength to protest, and he seemed nice. He smelled like sunshine on fresh earth.

Once you had finished using the toilet you tried to stand up again, now that you at least had some semblance of strength in your legs. After a few tries you were able to support yourself against the bathroom counter, with more than half of your weight against the frigid tiles. Your legs shook as you started standing more straight up, and you made a high pitched keening sound that you didn’t even know you could make; the man’s worried voice came through the door. His voice was higher and slightly panicked.

“Are you okay? Do you need help? Are you hurting too much?”

Your voice, which you hadn’t managed to make work properly, came out lower than usual and scratchy. A portion of your throat ached as you tried to make the sounds audibly. “Yeah,” you rasped out. “I can’t stand up properly.”

“Do you need me to come and help?” There was something about his voice that just made you want to trust him. It was soft but strong and even though he had toned down the panic, it still had soft tremors of worry running through it.

You thought about it for a second and considered yourself in the mirror. You looked, quite frankly, horrible. Your hair was a mess (more than usual), your eye bags were sagging unnaturally, and your eyes themselves were dull. You did look like you needed help. You sighed. “Sure.”

A moment later he opened the door slowly and stepped into the space with you, putting one arm around your waist to help support you. You relaxed some of your weight onto him and closed your eyes briefly. It would have been a wholly relaxing moment if not for your stomach. It grumbled up at you and you thought for a moment that it sounded like an angry octopus trapped inside of you. Then you blinked to clear the thought away as the man laughed. It was deeper than you expected from a man with pink cotton-candy colored hair, a low chuckle that rumbled through his body and, in turn, yours. You shook against him slightly with the movement and his other arm came to help you lean more against his body. He was stronger than you expected and you could feel the muscles in his arms shift as he reoriented himself.

“Let’s get you some food,” he said, smiling. “Unfortunately I’m not sure I’ll have much you’ll like.” You just nodded. Your throat was still throbbing uncomfortably where you were bitten and you weren’t sure you had the energy to even debate his statement. You were sure you would eat whatever he gave you. He led you into the main room again and helped you settle onto the couch. He walked over to the kitchenette and picked up a can of soup, then walked back to you to verify it was a kind that you liked. Once you had approved it, he went back and put it in a pot on the electric stove, starting to heat it up. As he stood over it, you had some time to think as you sat on the couch. The first thing you realized was that you still didn’t know what his name was, which was an issue. You couldn’t thank him properly without knowing his name. The second thing you realized was that you didn’t know where you were, exactly. The third was that you had probably missed your flight back home and your parents were going to murder you for it when you eventually got back. You shifted so you were more comfortable before trying to speak again. You started with the easiest vocal warmup you remembered and the man looked over at you with eyebrows raised.

“You good?” he asked. You nodded in response, hoping that your throat would relax and stop throbbing.

“Yeah, I think so,” you told him. “The side of my neck really aches where that man bit me.” His eyebrows furrowed at this and you thought maybe you just imagined it, that nobody actually bit you, but the pain was real enough in that moment and it was certainly real enough when he bit you. “Also,” you continued, “I still don’t know what your name is.” He seemed to think about this for a moment.

“I’m Jaemin Na,” he said eventually. “This is my house. And I think maybe we need to take a closer look at your bite, I didn’t realize it still hurt. Usually the throbbing goes away after a day or two.” You found yourself nodding along before his words sank in.

“Okay, uh, nice to actually know who you are now. I’m Y/N,” you said. There were suddenly many more questions floating around your brain. Usually he had said, which meant he had dealt with vampire bitten people before. How? Was he one? Why weren’t you a vampire? And how long had you been asleep for? They circled around your head like a dog chasing its tail until you realized that Jaemin was in front of you. It seemed like he was waiting for you to say something.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “What was that?”

“I said we have all the time in the world for you to ask me the questions I know you must have. Don’t psych yourself out. You’re safe.” Despite the fact that you knew next to nothing about him you found yourself once again trusting him without reason. He just seemed like a genuinely nice person, someone you could believe to tell you nothing but the truth.

“Okay,” you agreed, and it came out like a sigh. Your throat gave a particularly unpleasant throb and you unconsciously brought a hand up to rub at it. Jaemin’s hand fastened around your wrist and pulled it away, looking closely at your skin. He sighed.

“You’ve probably figured out by now that the man who bit you was a vampire. If you haven’t, have your moment of denial now.” You just looked back at him, surprised.

“Denial?”

“Yeah. Usually when humans find out about vampires for the first time they aren’t very accepting of it. I’ve had to replace my windows a few times from thrown objects.” You almost laughed before realizing that he was serious.

“Okay, well, I already got that, so go ahead,” you prompted.

“Great!” His eyes got just a little bit less heavy with your statement and he continued, “contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t actually turn humans all that often. If we had that little self control the whole population would be dead or turned already.” You noted his use of the word we and shuddered a little. He could attack you too? He seemed so gentle.

For the first time you noticed your soup in a bowl on the coffee table. Jaemin reclaimed your attention by speaking again. “We’re also pretty good at choosing who to bite, and when. We’re not heartless. We try to choose people with good metabolisms so that we can return them to Earth quickly.” At this you inhaled so sharply that he paused, looking over at you.

“We aren’t on Earth anymore?” you asked shakily. He shook his head with a quirk of his lips. That distracted you enough to calm down for a moment. He really was a gorgeous person. Was the word person still applicable to vampires? You didn’t know. He sucked you out of your thoughts again with a hand waved in front of you.

“No, we’re not on Earth. Where we are… it’s like a parallel plane of existence. Vampires can live here, do live here, in bigger bunches than we can on Earth. We call it ‘Vahmpyr.’ I always thought that was a really unoriginal name, but I was turned after it was discovered so I didn’t have much of a say. It would be like you trying to rename Earth.” He picked up your bowl of soup and stirred it around, handing it to you, before continuing.

“This is my vacation house of sorts, where I nurse humans who have been bitten back to their healthy selves. Generally we vampires try to keep one certified nurse or doctor in each coven just in case, more if the coven is large. It’s a handy skill to have. Especially if you happen to have parts of your coven who are as chaotic as ours.” He looked over at you and smiled wryly before adding, “I didn’t poison the soup, you know.” You looked down at your lap where the warm bowl sat and laughed under your breath before picking up the spoon and taking a bite. It was delicious. You flashed him a thumbs up with your mouth full and he smiled brightly again.

Once you had swallowed you asked, “how can you bite humans and not turn them? I didn’t know it was possible to not turn us.” He nodded like he was expecting this question.

“It’s kind of a strange feeling,” he told you. “Biting, I mean. It’s not like the human feeling of biting into a piece of meat. It’s just… it’s amazing. It’s like cold fruit on a summer’s day, hot chocolate while snow falls. It’s at once a feeling of absolute power and absolute devotion because tasting a human’s blood puts them above everything else, at least for a few moments. At the same time you’re aware that their body is falling apart and right into you. It’s intoxicating. Every once in a while you’ll bite someone that just tastes extraordinarily good, or meet someone with a unique and, pardon my language, delicious, smell. Then your body sort of automatically realizes you want them to stick around and releases the venom.”

“So,” you said, interested by his version of vampires, “if you bit me right now, I’d be fine?”

His eyes sparked with something new. Anger, you thought, or something close to it. “I just spent four days nursing you back to health and you want me to bite you just to see what happens?” he asked incredulously.

“No! I was just confirming. I’m sorry,” you murmured, and shoved another bite of the soup into your mouth for good measure. He sighed.

“I’m sorry too, it feels so easy to talk to you. I forget that you’re new to this.” You choked on your soup while he and he hurriedly patted your back as you regained your breath. “Are you alright?”

“Did you say you spent four days nursing me back to health?” you asked, head spinning. Four days. Four days. Four days. “I’ve been missing from Earth for four days?”

He deliberated for a moment. “Yes, and no. You’ve been off of Earth for four days, yes, but you aren’t missing.” You raised an eyebrow in response and he hurried to explain more. “I mean, obviously you’re here, and yes, you’ve been here for four days, asleep, recovering from Jisung’s bite. On the other hand, there’s still a you on Earth right now. That’s the interesting thing about Vahmpyr. We can bring humans back, with some effort, and while they’re here, a version of them is still on Earth. It’s still you. And if you go back, from what I understand, you get your other half’s memories back, like you never left. It’s quite the phenomenon.” He seemed completely serious and you were inclined to believe him, but this was insanity. Another you, a perfect copy, walking around on Earth while you hung out with the vampires in their parallel plane? You pinched yourself. It hurt, and you winced. Jaemin looked at you with this horrible understanding glimmer in his eyes like he was saying I know how this is. It’s weird and unimaginable but it’s here. Please don’t break any of my things.

Eventually you just kept sitting and looked back at him. “This really is good soup,” you said. He looked at you in surprise before bursting out laughing, face lighting up like the horizon at sunrise.

“You’re not going to attack me?” he asked between chuckles. “That’s the normal response. And thank you, that’s my favorite kind of soup too.” You shook your head, smiling back at him.

“I decided that there’s no changing it even if this is just a fever dream induced by an infected human,” you explained to him. “And wait, can you actually eat still? Like stuff besides blood?” In response he ran over to the small kitchen and grabbed a spoon of his own, dipping it into the bowl and moving it to his mouth. When he was done he smiled at you.

“I can still eat human foods. Nothing is as good as blood, of course, but I can still enjoy it. It’s just dulled by the transformation. And I’m glad that’s the stance you take on being transported to a different plane, I’ve known humans to react rather badly.” He took a moment to think. “For example, there was a woman who was convinced we had sexually assaulted her, which is a fair thought, but she wouldn’t let me explain anything to her. She ran outside as soon as her legs were strong enough and ran right into Lucas. He’s a really big guy, wide and tall and strong and such. She was so terrified she ran into my bathroom and I had to give her the spiel from through the door. Not the finest of interactions.” In spite of yourself you laughed. You could imagine the woman’s fear, especially if this Lucas was as infuriatingly gorgeous as Jaemin and the man who had bit you. You probably should’ve felt the same way, but something about Jaemin was just relaxing, and you felt safe with him.

“I get it,” you told Jaemin. “All of you guys; the guy who bit me - what did you say his name was? Jisung? Yeah, him. Jisung and you and probably Lucas, you all look like models which I guess goes with the vampire narrative, but it’s a little shocking since I’ve never seen someone so good looking. It’s nearly scary.” You looked back up to see Jaemin looking surprised.

“You think we’re good looking? Even after you got bitten by one, abducted by another, and have only heard of the third in a story about someone running away screaming?”

You shrugged. “All of that doesn’t change the facts. You’re still some pretty perfect looking human beings.” A moment later you realized what you had said and wrinkled your nose. “Sorry, uh, creatures. Is that offensive?” Jaemin laughed again and wow you could get addicted to that laugh. It was so carefree. You supposed that came with immortality.

“Technically ‘creatures’ is more accurate but isn’t very nice-sounding, even if we are unnatural monsters.” He said this as though he had come to terms with it. Even if we are unnatural monsters.

“I don’t think you’re unnatural,” you told him. “I mean, if there is a higher power out there then He or It or They created a whole plane for you and if not then nature did. I don’t think Vahmpyr would exist if you were unnatural.” He looked at you without speaking as you took another spoonful of soup.

“That’s… that’s a new way of looking at it.” He looked conflicted, like he was trying to reconcile your view of him with his view of himself. “I don’t think our plane was meant to exist though, by higher power or nature. Humans are beautiful because they age and there is room for change within your society. It’s hard to change an entire plane full of the unchanging.”

“Maybe so,” you argued, “but you’re obviously gorgeous on the outside, and on the inside it seems like you have a good system too. If I was a vampire I don’t think I’d take care of the humans I had bitten. It wouldn’t have occurred to me. They would all die. I would be dead, come to think of it.”

“That’s true,” he conceded. “You really do have a unique view of things.”

“Thank you?” It came out sounding more like a question than you intended. You finished your bowl of soup, licking the excess off of your upper lip. Setting the bowl back down seemed to break whatever spell had kept you in eager conversation with him. You supposed all of your questions had been answered, for now. Jaemin helped you get set up with Netflix on his TV and went back outside to his garden. He explained that you could call for him through the open window if you needed him, he would be right nearby. You nodded, already distracted by the opening scene of your show.

After a while you realized that there were low voices coming from outside. It sounded like Jaemin was talking to someone. You turned the volume down on the TV a little bit to listen. Maybe you could meet the infamous Lucas or someone else in Jaemin’s vampire family.

“... have to bring him to me?” Jaemin was saying. “You tasted him, you know his scent. This is painful. His scent is all over my things, my bed.” He let out a small groan and the other man with him chuckled breathily.

“Hyung, I didn’t mean for him to smell so good I swear, it was a spur of the moment decision. I was hunting in his area and his scent was so enticing. Plus, I was hungry!” You shuddered at the mention of hunting. This one, who must be Jisung, was far less civilized than Jaemin, it seemed.

Jaemin made an angry noise and his words hissed out when he spoke. “You think it was enticing out in the open air of Poland? On a windy day? I’ve been smelling him acutely on my things, in my house, for four days and it hurts. My venom has been going non-stop for the entire period and it’s not like I can just change him, he’s got a life ahead of him!” Part of your heart went out to Jaemin - he was trying so hard to take care of you and even caused himself pain for it. That explained why he had reacted so negatively when you asked what would happen if he bit you. You wouldn’t have been fine. You would’ve become like him. The thought didn’t cause the anger or disgust you thought it should have. It sounded nice, almost, to be like him. To stay in his safety for eternity.

“Jaemin,” said a new voice. It was strong and rough like tree bark lined his throat. “You can return him back to the real world in just a few more days and you’ll be free of him. It’s not like he’d want to stay here anyway, his friends and family are back on Earth. We can keep Jisung home and have him feed on Chenle until he learns his lesson.”

Someone, presumably Jisung, made a wounded noise. “I can control myself, I promise. Don’t make me feed on Chenle, Hyung, he doesn’t taste anywhere near as good.” Definitely Jisung.

“Jisung,” said Jaemin’s voice. “Don’t argue, you brought this on yourself. And me,” he adds as an afterthought.

Jisung’s sullen voice responded, “fine, Hyung, but Chenle isn’t going to be happy either, you know.” You thought maybe Jaemin must have nodded or something because nobody said anything for a while. You turned off the TV, suddenly bored with the program and head full of new questions. The top one on the list was why. Why did you affect them this way? Why did Jaemin treat you so nicely when you were hurting him? Why did Jisung sound like a puppy who had been reprimanded? Why did Jaemin and the other man have the power to ground him, essentially? Then there were the who questions. Who was the man with the voice like tree bark? Who was Chenle, and why wouldn’t he be happy? Lastly were the when questions. When would you be going home? When would you see them again? Would you see them ever again? When would Jisung be allowed to hunt again?

You were so deep in your head that you didn’t notice the door opening and Jaemin coming in, two men behind him, until he stopped and waved a hand in front of you.

“Y/N, you okay? I brought you some people to meet.” He stepped back and you forced your eyes to refocus on what was in front of you. When you looked up at him, he presented the two other guys like he was a car salesman and these were his favorite models. “This is Jisung, you’ve met him already although I don’t know if you remember him.” You nodded, looking over him. He had on a grey crewneck sweatshirt over a pair of black sweatpants today and looked far less terrifyingly beautiful flanked by his hyungs.

“I remember him,” you told them. “You’re the one who bit me.” You didn’t think it was possible for him to look more sheepish than he already did but he managed to, and shrank back so that he was standing half-behind the other man. The other guy had bleached hair falling messily over his forehead, and even though he was shorter than Jisung, he seemed to command your attention more. He had on a green sleeveless shirt that showed off arms rippling with muscles. You gulped, looking up at him, but then he smiled at you. His whole demeanor changed. He felt less like he was about to kill you and more like he might accidentally strangle you to death in a hug. His eyes scrunched up into little crescents and you found yourself smiling back.

“I’m Jeno,” he said, walking forward to shake your hand. “Sorry I didn’t come to visit earlier.” His voice still sounded like bark lined his throat, but less so now that he wasn’t bothering to limit his volume.

“That’s fine,” you replied. “I just woke up earlier today.” You glanced towards Jaemin; he looked like a proud mom watching you interact with his friend. “Jaemin fed me, and since then I’ve just been sitting here watching TV. I can’t find my phone, and even if I did I’m not sure I could walk over to it. My legs are out of practice.”

Jeno smiled again. “That’s pretty common for Jisung’s victims. We found out he has these little back teeth that make it more painful for the people he bites so they usually need more bed rest to recover from the strain on their bodies and the blood loss.”

You nodded, as though that made sense. They still let Jisung hunt with his unpredictability and extra teeth? That seemed a little irresponsible of them, but you supposed that Jeno and Jaemin weren’t that much older than him in the first place. You tried to bring up your next subject subtly.

“Speaking of recovery, when do you think I’ll be going back to Earth?” The change in the room was immediate. Jeno’s smile faltered enough for you to see his eyes, Jaemin’s shoulders slumped, and Jisung’s foot started tapping against the rug. “It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you interjected, “I'm just worried that my, uh, double self will get up to trouble and stuff. What if someone notices it’s not me?”

Jisung looked at Jaemin. “You either did a really bad job of explaining this or he wasn't listening, Hyung.” Jaemin glared at him in response and chose not to dignify the statement with an answer. Jisung huffed at him and turned to you. “It’s you, y’know, back on Earth. Like… when a starfish gets cut in half, both halves grow into full starfish again. Something similar happened to you. Same organism, same guy, just two different places. Is that a weird comparison?”

“What he means,” interjected Jeno before you could reply, “is that the you down there has all of your experiences and memories and the same brain. It’s the exact same person as you, just two versions of you. When you go back you won't even have a bite scar.” At this you lifted your hand to rub at the mark on your throat. You saw Jisung’s eyes follow the action and he licked his lips. You put your arm back down into your lap and swallowed, the sound echoing in your head.

Finally Jaemin spoke. “And to answer your question, as soon as we get you strong enough to walk on your own you can go back. I mean technically there’s a body waiting for you down there, but we don’t know what would happen if we sent you back faulty, so we like to be careful.” You laughed at his use of the word faulty and nodded.

“Okay. Do you guys have a portal or something that’ll take me back?” At this all three men burst into laughter and a high pitched squeal joined the mix, coming from the doorway. Yet another man was standing there, thin orange-dyed hair flopping as he doubled over laughing.

“A- a portal,” he wheezed out between laughs. “No, we don’t have a portal.” You threw him a disgruntled look.

“I was just asking…”

Jaemin looked equally off-put and said, “Y/N, this is Chenle, Jisung’s best friend and our second child. Sorry about his lack of a filter.” His lips pursed unhappily and you rushed to reassure him.

“No, that’s okay, I don’t know if that was stupid question. No feelings hurt, he’s fine.” Jaemin looked unconvinced, so you sat up more towards Chenle and reached out a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh is that your name?” he replied breezily, shaking your hand quickly. “They were right, you do smell good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jaemin shift protectively.

“Chenle.” His voice came out a growl, raising hairs on the back of your neck. “Don’t you dare.” It was interesting, you thought, how this dynamic worked. From what you had heard with Jisung, Jaemin had always contained himself, like he was reprimanding his favorite child. With Chenle he seemed almost dangerous, like it was possible for him to hurt a fly, and things much bigger than a fly. You wondered if he was this way with all of his patients, or if Chenle just bothered him more with you than usual.

“I’m not going to, mom, chill out a moment.” Chenle, you decided, must be the bad egg of their group. Every family had at least one, and here was theirs. He seemed the most likely to hurt something for the fun of it, and it almost seemed like he should have been the one to attack you, not Jisung. You wondered, in the distant back of your head, whether he had extra teeth for biting like Jisung did. Maybe it was better not to find out.

“Please don’t call me mom,” Jaemin sighed in response, all of the fight leaving him a rush. His muscles were still tense, though, and he ran a hand through his cotton candy colored hair.

“Chenle,” said Jeno, “I think you and Jisung should go talk. He has news for you.” Jisung shuddered slightly, his nod small and tense. You remembered his reaction earlier, when he had been informed that he needed to feed from Chenle for the time being. Chenle looked between Jisung and Jeno and an expression appeared on his face that didn’t seem natural on him - uncomfortable confusion. What you had seen in this past tension filled minute was that he was self assured and rambunctious. Now you wondered if he respected Jeno, regardless of that. You supposed you didn’t really have time to find out, you would be going home as soon as you could walk on your own. Speaking of which-

“I need to use the bathroom again,” you said as Jisung walked out of the house with Chenle right behind him.

“You should try getting up on your own,” Jeno suggested. “The more you sit around the harder it’ll be for your legs to get strong again.” You nodded and used the arm of the couch to haul yourself to your feet. Your knees started shaking again and Jaemin hurried to support you a little, until you felt a little more steady on your feet. Once you did, you tentatively took a tiny step towards the bathroom. Your arms flew out to your sides to help with balance and Jaemin took the mother bird stance, worriedly standing within arm’s length to catch you if you started to collapse. Jeno watched from a few paces away and smiled at you.

“Let’s see if you can get to me, okay? Then we can help if you need support.” You nodded and gritted your teeth, shuffling forward on your weak legs slowly. The good news: you made it to him without falling or using Jaemin’s ever-there assistance. The not so good news: you practically fell into Jeno when you got to him, using his body for support. He helped you find your center of gravity again before acting as a crutch to get you to the bathroom.

“If you need anything,” Jaemin told you, “I’ll be right out here. Don’t over-exert yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, it’s just like one step to the toilet, and there’s a nice strong counter” you assured him, and closed the door behind you as you stepped away from Jeno’s warm strength. Immediately you felt weak again but you reached out to hold on to the edge of the counter while you walked and got safely to the toilet. Your legs screeched at you as you lowered yourself onto the seat and you relaxed a little bit once you were seated. Recovery was going to be hard.

☽༓☾

Two days passed in a blur of pain and people. You met quite a few new people, like the infamous Lucas (who was a giant baby and who adored you), a woman named Joy who had actual red eyes like the legends said, and a man that everyone called Ten. Actually, you weren’t sure if Ten counted as a man. He dropped by Jaemin’s house the third day, right after Jisung and Chenle had just left after getting some flowers from Jaemin’s garden. He walked in on tentacles, long and thick ones that wrapped around the door frame and curled and uncurled as he talked. He muttered something about wishing they would just admit they were gay and asked Jaemin if he happened to have clams. Jaemin, looking amused, supplied him with an entire bucket of the little creatures. Ten gave him a jar in response and flounced out the door without even looking at you.

“Jaemin,” you asked, “what, or who, was that?” Jaemin laughed happily and the sound was so perfect that you wished he would just keep laughing forever.

“Ten is kind of unique,” Jaemin said. “Obviously, he’s got tentacles, which is unusual, and then he’s also not a vampire so none of us can quite figure out how he can get here, to Vahmpyr. But he can see the future, sort of, which is pretty helpful sometimes. Warns us when we’re getting too active and need to be careful of humans. He’s also convinced that Chenle and Jisung are gay and that they just need some guidance.”

You couldn’t decide on a question to ask about these revelations, so you settled for a very intelligent sounding “huh,” and continued your walking around the house. You were doing a lot better now with your exercises and had been able to make it around the room without holding onto anything for support four times now. Jaemin laughed again and you felt yourself actually flinch from the force of his happiness. It was addicting, almost. He went back to his Gaelic scrolls, which he was translating for a man called Kun, who you had yet to meet.

You had a sudden thought and you found yourself needing to talk, to explain about the other day. “Jaemin,” you said, dropping into the seat across from him at the table with a low groan. “The other day when Jisung and Jeno came, you guys were talking outside, you know?” He looked up from the scrolls, giving you a raised eyebrow like ‘so?’

“So I may or may not have listened to your conversation,” you told him, watching as he gave you his full attention, clicking his pen closed and rolling up the scrolls gently. He didn’t look angry, exactly, more apprehensive than anything. Like he was back to worrying about you throwing things and breaking his windows.

“And?” he prompted, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them you saw something strange there, like fear. But certainly the immortal and beautiful Jaemin couldn’t be scared of you. You must’ve been interpreting it wrong.

“Well you guys were talking about my smell,” you started slowly. “And, uh, you said that you- that I was causing you pain. And I was just wondering, why keep me around? Why not take me to a human hospital, or just kill me? Or turn me? Why did you make yourself suffer?”

He inhaled deeply and then shivered a little bit. When he spoke, his voice was soft and a little scratchy. “For one, we’ve never had a case like this before. I mean obviously there have been people who have smelled good to me before, but usually I’m able to ignore it. With you… it’s like my vampire body can’t get enough of your scent. It wants to turn you, to keep you, in its selfishness. That part of me is weak, in its greed. And of course I couldn’t kill you, I could barely control myself when Chenle- when he-” Jaemin took a deep breath to steady himself. “He wanted to bite you. You smell good to our whole coven, to everyone who’s met you, at least, which is a first. Thankfully you don’t appeal to Jisung the same way you do to me though, because by now you’d be a full fledged member of the family. Jeno is really good at hiding it, but I could tell he wanted to drink from you too, when you used him to help you walk the other day. I think the only ones not affected by it are Lucas and Ten, although that could be because they’re both straight, I’m not sure.” As an afterthought, he added, “actually Lucas is demisexual, I think.”

Skipping over the bit about Lucas’ sexuality, you spoke, horrified. “I’ve been hurting all of you? Seriously, why not just make me go to a regular hospital on Earth?”

“Well it would be a little hard to just give you to a hospital on Earth and be like, ‘here, take this body which may or may not have a vampire bite in its neck,’” Jaemin told you. “And also because I haven’t given up on a patient yet, and I didn’t want the first to be because I can’t control myself. And as to why I didn’t turn you… I didn’t want to take your life away. I still don’t. I think your life is going to be a good one and I don’t want to steal that. That’s why you’re going back tomorrow.”

An empty feeling settled in your chest. “You’re sending me back tomorrow? I still haven’t met so many of your friends though!”

He leveled you with a stare. “The rest of my patients never got to meet any other members of the coven. This was a one and done. You don’t need to know the rest of them. Especially not Yuta or Hyuck, good gracious.”

Who are Yuta and Hyuck? you wanted to ask, but his tone implied the end of the conversation, so you refrained from forming the question. “Okay, uh, I’m going to go sit in the garden.”

Jaemin flashed you a barely-there smile, opening his scrolls again and clicking his pen open. “Mhm. Be careful.”

You went out to sit under a tree in his front yard. Actually there were a lot of trees in his front yard - his house was in a forest. He had neglected to mention that when he first told you about his home and you had found it fascinating how it worked. When you walked out, there wasn’t any path out of the small clearing that housed his cottage. When you imagined a person, though, a tree tunnel would open and you could go any which way you wanted. You had tried imagining your parents the first time Jaemin told you about it and it hadn’t worked. He had explained that it only worked for people on this plane of existence, which made sense. When you had imagined Joy, it had shown you a way to a small town. Jaemin had forbidden you to go anywhere without him in case someone got territorial or hungry and killed you by accident. You respected that, you didn’t want to be murdered, but you wanted to see Lucas, and talk to him. He had fun stories to tell of his best friends. Jaemin seemed a bit huffy. It would be fine to go and see him, right? You’d just go and be back quickly before Jaemin even realized you were gone.

You decided that you just needed to talk to a friend right now and focused your mind on Lucas, finding an apartment building in the largest vampire city you had seen so far. With a little more effort you could find his apartment, although you couldn’t see him. The trees opened and you glanced back at Jaemin’s cottage before setting off.

As you walked down the path you reveled in your ability to walk. After two days of walking in short bursts and trying to regain strength in your legs you were finally able to walk like a normal human being, no flailing arms or stops every few meters to take a break and rest your muscles. It was nice, after so little freedom within Jaemin’s one room cabin. You liked being out here better. You avoided tree limbs and roots as you went, always focused on getting to Lucas. At one point your focus switched from his apartment to a convenience store and you panicked, realizing that you couldn’t go there. There, you might actually get murdered like Jaemin had predicted. He hadn’t nursed you back to health and struggled through your scent just for you to go and get yourself killed. You waited, walking more slowly, until the view at the end of the tunnel switched back to Lucas’ apartment’s front door. You breathed out a sigh of relief and continued on your way.

It was fascinating to you how there was no life in the forest besides the plants. You didn’t hear or see any insects or birds and you wondered if that was because they were afraid of the vampires or if they just didn’t exist on this plane. You decided to ask Lucas when you got to his house. After a while you realized that the image at the end of the tree tunnel was no longer a moving image of where you wanted to go, but rather the actual thing, growing bigger as you progressed down the path. You found yourself increasing your pace in your hurry to see Lucas.

When you left the comfort and relative safety of the forest, you nearly ran across the street separating the apartment complex from the trees. You stumbled at one point and almost fell to the pavement but recovered and kept going. You entered the main door and started up the stairs, still hurrying a little faster than your body thought was necessary. You speed walked until you reached the third floor and started looking through the numbers, looking for a door marked with ‘311,’ the one you had seen in the forest while looking for Lucas. After a good few minutes searching, you located the hallway his apartment was in and walked down it, looking at the odd numbers on the right. They counted down from 39, so you had a ways to go. Part of you wondered if the vampires just didn’t care about your presence, because apparently your scent was pretty strong and you were sure that you were stinking up the whole hallway with your human-ness, but nobody had come to murder you yet.

When you finally got to the door labeled with a faded ‘311,’ you stopped to take a breath before knocking on the door. An uncomfortable pause (where you wondered if Lucas was out after all) later, the door opened and you breathed out a sigh of relief, only for the air to stick in your throat at the sight of a man shorter than Lucas, but much scarier.

He had dark brown hair, obviously lightened but only a bit. It fell over his forehead and stopped just short of his eyes. His lips set in a grim line as he looked over you before they pulled back into what should have been a heart stopping smile, but was instead a snarl, a grimace of distrust and anger. The feature that stuck out most to you were his eyes. You imagined that when he was happy, his eyes would glow with an inner light. Now they were dark and they promised violence.

No sooner had you come to this conclusion before he had you pinned against the opposite wall. “Give me one good reason,” he hissed, “why I shouldn’t just kill you.” His arm pressed into your throat, keeping you pinned against the wall, on your tiptoes to accommodate the height of his arm.

Lucas, I came to see Lucas, you tried to say, but it got stuck on the way out of your throat and instead what came out was a weak, “Lu…” followed by a wispy groan. The man furrowed his brow and moved to hold you against the wall by your arms so you could speak. “Lucas,” you gasped, air rushing back into your body and allowing you to speak once more. “Friend.” The man put you completely down now, on the floor, and you moved to massage your throat before his eyes, dark and threatening, halted your movement. Lucas certainly has a knack for choosing friends, you thought.

“Don’t move,” he growled, “Or I’ll throw you out our living room window. It may not kill you, but it will hurt.” Then he turned around slightly and called, “Xuxi! There’s someone here to see you!”

You heard shuffling inside before the figure of Lucas appeared, tall and thick and seeming like safety incarnate in the presence of someone as terrifying as the man who still had one hand next to your head.

“Yang?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

The man, Yang, shifted so that Lucas could see your face. “This one just came knocking on our door and said he wanted to see you. Do you know him?”

Lucas gasped slightly and sped up, blurring a little, so that he reached you in less than a second. “Oh my gosh, Y/N, are you okay? Yangyang, this is the human that’s been staying with Jaemin for the past week, he’s my friend!”

“Hey Lucas,” you said weakly, finally reaching up to massage your throat now that you had someone to protect you from being thrown out the living room window. “I’m okay, I think. Just a little lightheaded.” Part of you wanted to add, Is his name Yang or Yangyang? but you figured now wasn’t the time to ask.

A strange look crossed Lucas’ face. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright, come inside and sit down, I’ll get you some water.” You followed him into the apartment, Yang (Yangyang?) behind you. He still slightly scared you and you stayed as close to Lucas as possible. Lucas spoke again as he grabbed a water bottle for you. You noted idly that it was Dasani. “But, uh, didn’t Jaemin tell you to, like, not come out here? So you didn’t get murdered? Cause that could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“Not you too!” you cried, exaggerating the syllables. “I know I could’ve died, but I wanted to see my friend! How hard is that to understand? Did it bother you so much that I wanted to see you?”

Lucas figited uncomfortably. “Well I appreciate that you came to see me, that’s really nice of you. It’s just that Jaemin was right. This really isn’t a safe place for you to be. I mean Yangyang could’ve killed you if he didn’t have such a heart of gold.” You threw a disbelieving glance towards the man in question and he shrugged, mouth tugging up in a mischievous grin.

“Okay, I mean, I can go back if you don’t want me here, I have to be back before Jaemin realizes I’m gone anyway,” you said, drinking more of your water. Yangyang and Lucas both froze.

“You didn’t get his permission?” Lucas asked in a tone that confused you. Was he scared of Jaemin? “Or tell him you were going for a walk? Or anything?”

“No, of course not. He would’ve said no!” you protested unhappily. This was not how you imagined this trip going.

“Okay,” Lucas said. “I’m taking you back right now. Jaemin will- well, he won’t kill me, but he’ll be scarily close if he finds out you came here.”

With a heavy sigh, you stood up. You knew that if he needed to, he could just throw you over his shoulder and carry you all the way back to Jaemin’s cottage. Darned vampire strength. “Fine.”

You got down the hallway and into the stairwell before Lucas tensed up again. “Shoot,” he muttered, looking down the stairs below. You couldn’t hear or see anything, and you were about to tell him so when he sighed and you heard a pitter patter like rain, growing louder by the second.

Moments later Jamin appeared in front of you, pink hair mussed and eyes wild with a mix of fear and anger. For a moment he didn’t even speak, just glared at you. The fear faded from his eyes. When he did speak, the words seemed like poison being spit off the tongue of a snake.

“I can’t believe you,” he seethed. “I kept you in my house, fed you, nursed you back to health. I let you use all of my things and was even going to send you home once you were perfectly healthy again. I gave you one rule. One! Just to keep you safe! And you go and break it. You could have died, Y/N, do you understand that? I did everything in my power to keep you in an environment where you weren’t in danger! I didn’t allow Hyuck to come over, I made sure that you were prepared to meet Lucas and Jeno and even Jisung! But all of my efforts faded to nothing when you opened that doorway to the city. I’m taking you home right now, I can’t bear to keep you here any longer, not when you obviously have no sense of self preservation!”

He picked you up before you could even blink and you felt a sharp wind on your face as he ran home. His steps sounded like raindrops falling on pavement, sharp but small, a pinprick of sound in an otherwise silent stairwell. Lucas had disappeared from view in less than a second and you shut your eyes against the vertigo of being carried at such a speed. Everything blurred, everything was indistinct and most things weren’t even worthy of notice. Jaemin smelled like ink, and you had space in the very back of your mind to wonder if he had spilled his, in his haste to find you. It didn’t seem like a very vampire-like thing to do.

A few moments later you entered the canopy of the forest and every once in a while you heard a stick break under his foot or a rock get catapulted out of the way. Then you felt the sun on your back again and you gasped as Jaemin dumped you onto the warm grass, standing tall before you. He said something in a language you didn’t know - it sounded vaguely like Latin - and the grass fell out from under you as the ground opened up and you fell into space.

☽༓☾

When you woke up the next morning to your alarm, you wondered briefly if your entire experience with Jaemin and the other vampires was a dream. The puncture wounds that had been on your neck were utterly nonexistent, and there was no evidence on you that you had even left the comfort of your bed. On the other hand, you had clear memories of your time in Vahmpyr, short as it was. You remembered how it smelled and how the trees had felt as you walked outside. You remembered the feeling of the cool granite of the bathroom countertop. Mostly you remembered being with Lucas, Jeno, Jisung, and Chenle. You remembered almost dying at the hands of Lucas’ roommate and you remembered the terrifying flight in Jaemin’s arms.

Jaemin.

You grimaced at yourself in the mirror and spit out your toothpaste. There was no way your mind could have made up someone as excruciatingly kind and beautiful as Jaemin was. At the same time you felt anger bubble up inside of you. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say goodbye - he had just put you through to your Earthly self without any words between the two of you. You hadn’t said goodbye to Lucas or Jeno either, nor had you seen the rest of your new acquaintances. The anger flared, hot against your insides, and you could swear you actually felt your chest twinge. You spat out the last of your toothpaste and replaced your toothbrush in its holder, going to get ready for your day.

The next few days were spent alternately missing the simplicity of life on Vahmpyr and being angry at Jaemin. Assignments piled onto your shoulders and in addition to that, you discovered some sort of disconnect between you and the part of you that had stayed on Earth while you were out. That part of you seemed to dismiss your time in Vahmpyr as something it had dreamed up all on its own. It didn’t acknowledge you and liked to take control of your body whenever you weren’t paying full attention to it. Every time it did that you felt the twinge in your chest again, except it got more and more painful. You started having headaches that the other part of you didn’t seem to feel but which pressed against your skull like tiny war hammers thudding into the bone by your temples and occasionally your eyes.

Your vision would go blurry and you started having lapses of consciousness, only to wake up and find yourself doing just fine with your other part in charge. During these lapses you would dream of being in Vahmpyr again, and you saw Lucas smiling with Yangyang, Chenle rolling his eyes at Jisung before hugging him tightly. Other men you didn’t know and other women you hadn’t met also flew across the screen of your eyes but they disappeared quickly. Ten even passed by once, haughtily scrolling past everyone until he sidled up to a tall man with long blond hair who smiled down at him and pressed a gentle kiss to one of Ten’s tentacles. A man with red hair and an eyebrow slit served coffee to a man who chewed like a rabbit. A group of three guys held up a sign that said “Go Taemin!” as a group played football. A woman in a suit jacket over jean shorts sat with a box of papers, crying. Joy played a game with other girls where they tried to push lockers over on each other. Everything (with the exception of the lockers) looked like fun. It was better than Earth, at any rate. Every night you went to bed wondering if you might just die by morning and leave the other half of yourself behind to control the body. You were just along for the ride at this point.

The evening of your fourth day back on Earth you went to sit outside the dorm building on a bench, just for some fresh air. For once you had control of the body and you let your head tip back, closing your eyes and just feeling. The bench pressed up against your back in a way that hurt slightly, but your body had been wracked with pain for two days straight and it didn’t ache so much as behind your eyes or inside your skull. The evening breeze blew across your eyelids and brought with it the scent of sun-warmed dirt.

It smelled like Jaemin, that first morning you woke up in his house. When he had helped you across the cottage towards the bathroom and been outlined by the sun, when he had made you soup and sat with you on the couch while he explained where you were and what he was.

Your body shook with a particularly painful pound on the inside of your ribs. You let yourself relax against the bench again and the sensations enveloped you once more. You felt yourself let go of your body on Earth and float away, less falling and more weightlessness, floating away on a wind that smelled of sun on dirt and felt like arms wrapping around you while rain fell on summer-warmed pavement. You floated away on this wind and it lifted you endlessly until you nodded off, finally free of the pains that had kept you company for the past few days. You wondered if perhaps you had died of it, if being back on Earth had perhaps been more detrimental to you than beneficial.

Then your back hit something hard and the breath was knocked from your lungs, waking you up again and telling you that something had gone very very wrong or very very well. You gasped air back into your body and rolled over weakly, now in a body you recognized as the one you inhabited on Vahmpyr. Grass poked your inner arms and you pushed yourself up to sitting with your legs crossed. You massaged your chest as you inhaled and found yourself miraculously free of pain, aside from the slight burn of breath inhaled too quickly after loss of oxygen. The war hammers in your head had vacated the premises and the aches of your ribs had subsided, making it easier to breath and just sit without drawing in pained gasps.

You registered a return of cold as a shadow fell over you and looked up to see none other than Chenle, with Jisung behind him. Did they never go anywhere without each other? Well, besides hunting.

“Y/N?” He gaped down at you, and you looked back up at him.

“The one and only,” you said, before you realized that didn’t apply to you anymore. “Well, one of only two in existence.”

He laughed that weird dolphin laugh he had again and reached out a hand to help you up. You took it, standing unsteadily on two feet that didn’t ache the moment you put weight on them. “What’re you doing back here? Jaemin-hyung said he sent you back to Earth.”

You feel the corners of your mouth tug down almost instinctively at the mention of Jaemin. “He did. I don’t think Earth agreed with me,” you told him. Jisung walked forward and looked you up and down.

“Maybe we should take you back to Jaeminnie hyung, he’ll know what to do.”

You groaned. “I really don’t want to deal with him at the moment.”

“We can take him to Kun-ge,” Chenle interjected smoothly. “He’ll know better than Jaemin-hyung anyway, he’s been a doctor and a vampire longer.” A side of Chenle appeared that you hadn’t seen yet, a side that took charge in a way that wasn’t just insulting anyone near him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. He took your hand with one of his and grabbed Jisung’s arm with the other.

“Come on, let’s go see Kun-ge!”

☽༓☾

Kun, as it happened, lived in the same building as Lucas. Actually he lived one apartment over, behind the door labeled ‘313.’ When he opened the door he seemed strangely unsurprised to see you there, just breathed out a sigh and let you in. He had nice light brown hair that worked well with his skin tone and eyes that smiled even when he wasn’t. He had this aura of parenting around him, like he took care of everyone he knew. It was comfortable to be around him from the start. Once Chenle had explained where he found you, Kun sat you down and asked exactly what had happened.

“Listen,” he said seriously. “I’ve never seen a human react the way you did. Nobody has ever come back, from what I know. We have to figure out exactly what happened, why you came back, and how to get you back to Earth.”

You inhaled deeply, relishing in the painless breath. “Okay, uh, I’m not really sure where to start,” you told him.

“Tell me about how you got sent home.”

“Okay. So, I left Jaemin’s cottage to come and see Lucas and I guess Jaemin is a lot scarier when he gets mad, because he was not happy when he found out I had left. He did this, like, superfast running thing, very Twilight, and carried me to this random clearing, I guess, I didn’t look around much.” You paused to let Kun write that down on his very professional looking clipboard, but he waved you on. Right, he was a vampire. He could write stuff fast.

“So he sort of dumped me on the ground and said something in a language I didn’t know, it sounded like Latin but I’m not sure. Then the ground sort of opened up and I fell and fell and fell until I rejoined my, uh, Earthly body.” You paused to take a breath and think about how to convey what happened when you got back to Earth.

“When I got back there was this weird disconnect with my body. Like, uh, there was me, in my body, and there was also this other part of me, the part of me that stayed behind when I came here the first time. That other part sort of took the main control of the body we lived in, and it felt like I was along for the ride. It liked to pretend that I wasn’t there, that my time here in Vahmpyr wasn’t real. It was weird. Then a little into my stay, I started getting these super bad pains all over my body.”

Kun interrupted you by holding up a finger. “How long were you home before the pains started?”

You thought back, struggling to pinpoint when they had started. “I think maybe a little longer than twenty four hours? When I got back I woke up in that body, and about one sleep later I started getting the pains, which would be like twenty five hours. Twenty four and a half, maybe. At first it was just these weird twinges in my chest, like my ribs were popping every time I took a breath, then it progressed. I got these horrible headaches, and my chest hurt all the time, and walking felt like attacking my feet, and my neck was always super achy. The thing is, my other half didn’t feel any of that. It was just my half of our consciousness. Then about on my fourth day back I went outside and sat on the bench outside my dorm. I laid back and, uh, it felt like I died or something. I just felt my consciousness leave the body and I guess the other half is still there living down there and now I’m here.”

Kun, Chenle, and Jisung all sat on the couch together, Kun looking over his notes while the other two guys just sat in silence. After a minute Kun spoke. “I don’t really know what happened to you, but I’m almost certain that your connection to your human self is gone. Or at least, your Earthly self. I don’t think we can send you back anymore, I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes full of remorse. You expected to mirror that feeling, but you discovered that it didn’t bother you so much. The other half of yourself would keep all of your friends and family from having to mourn you, and you could stay here, painless.

“I’m actually kind of glad about that,” you told them, and Chenle’s head snapped from picking at his jeans to look at you.

“Glad?” he demanded, incredulous. “To stay here?”

“Well yeah, I mean I was in pain most of the time I was back on Earth so it’s not like I’m eager to go back there. Plus, since I didn’t actually die nobody has to mourn me. And part of the time I was like… seeing Vahmpyr. Like is Ten dating this super tall guy with blonde hair? And Joy was pushing lockers over on her friends? And you two!” You turned an accusatory finger at Jisung and Chenle. “You two are adorable together!”

Jisung sighed. “Not you too…”

Kun shushed him. “You could see what was going on here in Vahmpyr?”

“Well, sort of,” you told him. “I saw that Lucas and Yangyang were having, like, a picnic?”

Kun’s eyebrows furrowed and he muttered, “I knew they had one without me.”

“I also saw this guy with red hair giving coffee to a man who sort of chewed like a bunny. And there was this group of three guys holding up a sign that said “Go Taemin!” I think, and I guess Taemin must have been playing football with the others I could see, although I couldn’t recognize any of the people playing. Oh, and there was this lady with really pretty hair who had a box of papers and she was just, like, sitting there and crying. She had the part of her hair near her neck bleached and the outer layers were still black, and she was wearing a suit jacket with jean shorts, which is kind of a weird combination.”

Kun looked over his notes. “That’s really interesting. All of those things have happened since you left, definitely. Joy and her friends like to play games where they try to kill each other, because they’re all immortal. The red haired man was probably Taeyong, and the bunny man would be Doyoung. Ten is dating Johnny, and yes, he is pretty tall and has blonde hair. I haven’t seen Taemin-hyung in a while so I don’t know if he’s playing football again or not. I don’t know about the woman with the cool hair either.”

“Definitely Taeyeon-noona,” Jisung interjected. “She broke up with her boyfriend a few days ago, and she does have hair dyed like that right now.”

Kun raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Huh, I hope she’s doing okay. Actually I think maybe we should worry more about whoever she broke up with, she’s not exactly good with breakups.”

As though it’s a secret, Jisung’s next words came out in a whisper, and he leaned closer to Chenle and Kun. You had to strain a little to hear. “I heard it was a human. He, like, got super insecure about the fact that she wasn’t aging with him and broke up with her. It’s killing her. She really liked that guy.”

“Why did she get with him in the first place?” Chenle sounded absolutely confused. “She knew it would end like this. That’s how the last two ended.”

“I don’t know, but now I’m really worried for the guy,” said Kun. “We might have to cover up for her.” The implications of his words sank in and you made a small sound. All three men snapped their heads up and it looked as though they forgot you were there.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry Y/N! Do you have anywhere to stay where you’ll be safe for at least a few days? Jaemin’s cottage should be pretty easy to stay hidden in.”

“He doesn’t want to go and see him after what happened,” Chenle supplied helpfully. “I’m taking him back to my place once we’re done here.” Kun appeared to consider that, and then nodded his approval.

“That sounds alright. Tomorrow we can go out and get him some things to make his stay more comfortable. Maybe we can find one of the Outer Plots to put him on.”

“Outer Plots?” you asked, because the way he said it demanded capitalization in your head.

“They’re sort of exactly what they sound like,” Kun explained. “There are these pieces of land around the edges of the towns that nobody really lives on but they’re solid places to live, if we can get a good one. It’s a little bit like Jaemin’s land out there, lot’s of forest, so we can set up tree tunnels for you to get here fast, if you need to.”

You nodded. “That does sound pretty good. I don’t know what I’m going to do though, it’s not like I have all that many hobbies. I was midway through getting my bachelor’s when I left.”

“That’s fine,” Chenle said. “I have plenty of things to keep you entertained, and we can get some of the other guys to keep you company if we’re busy. There are a lot of us with a lot of open time. I also have a ton of extra textbooks from learning languages, so if you want you can spend your life becoming fluent in Japanese, Latin, French, German, Scottish Gaelic, Hawaiian, or one of the others I have. Or multiple, if you learn fast.”

“Thanks Chenle.” He wasn’t actually so bad, you thought. He had brought you to Kun and he was offering to let you use his house and his things. “I might just take you up on that.”

“You guys should probably leave now, actually,” Kun said. “At human speeds you’ll get home right on time.”

Chenle checked his watch and nodded. “He’s right. We should get going.”

You thanked Kun again and Chenle led you out the door, Jisung following behind you. You separated ways with him once you left the apartment building, his figure disappearing swiftly into the trees. Once you blinked there was no finding him again.

You walked behind Chenle quietly, choosing to observe your surroundings. You didn’t see much in the way of low quality or old houses here. It seemed as though a lower class had been eradicated entirely and the vampires could choose where they wanted to live. When you asked him how that was possible, Chenle laughed that peculiar screech of his and said, “when you’re reborn into a family of beings that has been around for millenia, you accumulate some shared wealth. Especially when some of the coven members have doctorate degrees and work on Earth full time, and some of us had familial connections as well, like money left in wills and such.”

You nodded. “So you guys are basically like the elite class of the universe.”

“Pretty much. My house is probably the biggest you’ll ever be in, because I like to splurge a little bit. Unfortunately you might get lost, though, and if you do, just call for me. I’ll make sure to be listening all night in case you need me.”

“It’s that big?” you asked in disbelief. “Do you live in Buckingham Palace?”

He grinned, showing off his incisors. “Bigger.”

“And you live alone?”

“Well, I haven’t always. Jisung and I will probably have sleepovers for all of eternity, and whenever a new coven starts they stay with me for a few days while they get their own living quarters set up, but for the most part , yes. I don’t actually spend a ton of time in the house, it’s more just for the sensation of owning a building that large.”

You shook your head. “As a broke college student, I find that completely unfair. I was working two jobs just to keep my head above water and you’re on this alternate plane just chilling in your house that’s bigger than Buckingham Palace.”

He smiled again. “Nobody said life was fair, Y/N. Nobody.”

☽༓☾

Three days and a shocking amount of Gaelic verbs later (you only got lost in Chenle’s palace four times), a house was ready for you to move in. Johnny and Ten had furnished it for you, and Chenle had explained that the two of them were the stylists of the coven, for the most part. The mysterious Yuta had also taken part in finding high quality fabrics to fit their vision. You had thanked the whole group of vampires who helped with the house profusely for not only building said house, but also for getting you a bunch of comfortable furniture. They had smiled and said it was their pleasure and all of the typical things, but what really stood out was Ten’s reaction. He had barely paid attention to you - he barely paid attention to anyone besides Johnny and Yangyang, who he called their baby - this whole time. When you had thanked him, however, he wrapped all but four of his tentacles around you in a surprisingly dry hug.

“It’s refreshing to have you around,” he had told you. “I’m glad we could help you get settled.”

Later as you reflected on it, you figured that it probably got pretty boring to know what was going to happen all of the time, and maybe you had disrupted the usual happenings of his visions and the vampires in Vahmpyr. Maybe you made other people happy too, to have a new person around.

One person who didn’t seem thrilled to have you back was Jaemin. Every time you made eye contact with him (twice, over the three days), he grimaced and turned away like the sight of you hurt him. Maybe he was mad that you were back within scenting range. He wouldn’t get near you, so it wasn’t like you could ask.

While settling into your new normal, you discovered that Chenle was actually a good friend. His love language was insults and pointed jabs, but he actually did care for his friends quite a lot. He had watched Jaemin from across your front yard as they were laying down grass seed and sighed.

“I wish he would just talk to you,” he told you sadly. “I’ve never, in all our years together, seen him like this. I’m not sure anyone has, even Taeil-hyung.” He didn’t elaborate on who Taeil was, and you didn’t press him. Was Jaemin really so mad that he couldn’t even look at you?

“Well,” you had said, “I don’t want to talk to him. He dumped me through an interplanar tunnel without warning me and yelled at me like the world was ending when I took a walk. I don’t think there’s much to be talked about. He must hate me.” Over Chenle’s shoulder, you had seen Jaemin flinch slightly. How strange. Part of you hoped that he felt the same pain that you did, a sort of ache that told you that you were unwanted. Another part of you murmured quietly in the back of your mind that you were being petty. You had chosen to ignore it for the time being. You were being petty, but so was he. He had thousands of years on you, so he should be the mature one, right?

“I don’t think he hates you. I think you both need to grow up and talk like adults,” Chenle had said flatly, orange hair seeming to flash in the sun. Jaemin sort of curled in on himself.

“Tell that to Mister Millenia before you lecture me on growing up,” you had replied. Then you reopened your Gaelic textbook and pretended to bury yourself in it, blatantly ignoring Chenle’s judgemental gaze.

“Fine,” he had muttered angrily. “You can both suffer for all I care.” Then he had stalked off and started pounding fence posts into the dirt so hard that Jeno had to tell him to take a break before he broke them.

You found yourself thinking about that moment as you walked through the trees, ironically on your way to see Jaemin. Since you had close to nothing to do , you had offered yourself up as an errand person to anyone that would hire and found yourself working for Kun running scrolls across Vahmpyr while he translated and examined them. It kept you busy and in shape, and Kun seemed happy with your service. This morning he had sent you to get the Scottish scroll back from Jaemin, along with a few other documents to pick up and drop off. You had saved this one for last, procrastinating on having to see him again. As his cottage came into full view, you sighed, preparing yourself for a cold shoulder and a very quick visit.

“Jaemin?” you called, knocking on the front door. It was closed for once, usually he kept it open for better air circulation. A moment later the door opened and there he stood, in all his cotton candy colored glory.

“Y/N? What’re you doing here?”

“Kun sent me, he wants that Scottish scroll back. He said he hopes you’re done translating it since you’re had it for a few weeks now,” you replied, willing your voice to stay professional. You were here for the scroll. When Jaemin didn’t reply, you looked up at him. “So? Where is it?”

“I don’t know why he sent you out like this, but I sent that scroll back three days ago, on our agreed upon date. I know he got it, because he sent me back a thank you with those little stickers he likes to use.”

“Oh. Um, I’ll just go then,” you muttered, turning around as you spoke. “Sorry I bothered you.”

Suddenly a hand was wrapped around your own, keeping you in place. Your breath caught in your throat, remembering the last time that had happened with a vampire. All that came out of Jaemin’s mouth, however, was, “Can I talk to you? Please?”

“Jaemin, please let me go,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. His hand released you immediately and you stepped a pace away from him and turned around so that you could see his face. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, uh, do you want some tea? I have some inside…” It was clear he hadn’t expected you to actually agree and he needed to collect his thoughts, so you nodded and he led you inside, sitting you on the familiar couch while he busied himself in the kitchen.

“I actually wanted to apologize,” Jaemin said after a minute. “I worried so much about protecting you that I forgot to let you enjoy your time here. It scared me how good you were at adjusting to this world, how much you liked being with Lucas and my other friends… I’m not used to humans reacting positively.” The kettle whistled and he took a moment to pour water into the mugs, steam rising gently from them in silvery whisps.

Once he poured the water, he continued speaking. “I wanted to make sure you knew that it wasn’t all fun and games here. I didn't want you to go looking for a place in our community because I was worried that you’d get killed. Vampires are pretty possessive of their property on Vahmpyr, for the most part, and you went right into one of the biggest apartment complexes within a day’s travelling distance - and that’s vampire distance, not human distance. Lucas told me about what happened with Yangyang, and I almost tore Yang’s arm off, I was so mad. He could have actually murdered you, and I couldn’t stomach the thought. What if Lucas hadn’t been home? What if Yangyang hadn’t given you that one moment to explain yourself? What if you had met another one of us on the stairs, without any protection? It terrified me to consider.” He walked over, a mug carried in each hand, and sat on the couch, leaving a large space in between you. It was strangely reminiscent of that first day, when he had explained Vahmpyr to you over soup.

“Of course,” Jaemin started, and you refocused. “That was only after I had sent you home, that he told me about that. When I dumped you in that tunnel, it was just fear of you being unsafe that made me so mad. The fact that you would willingly put yourself in danger, when I valued you so highly? Inconceivable. And yet, it happened. So I made another big mistake: I sent you home. I thought you would be better off there, regardless of what was happening. I knew you were healthy enough to walk to the city, so I thought you were fine. Apparently not. I heard from Chenle and Kun what happened to you back on Earth and it broke another part of me apart. I hurt you, in sending you back, not just in temporary emotional pain, but in physical pain that persisted through your entire stay. We still don’t know why you reacted the way you did, but it scared me to hear of it. I had made yet another mistake that could have killed you.” He paused to take a sip of his tea, and you did too. It was pleasant, not too hot and not too cold, just warming up your insides.

“Then the last straw came when you said I must hate you…” Jaemin’s voice broke slightly. “If anything, it’s the exact opposite, I realized I missed you more than I should, given you should be just a patient. I wanted to hug you the second I saw you, but you looked so mad to see me that I couldn’t do it. I was literally building a house for you and still couldn’t look you in the eyes for more than a moment. So I went home in shame, knowing that you were right, with thousands of years under my belt, I should be the more mature one. I decided that the next time I saw you, I would talk to you, no matter the circumstances. I couldn’t have you keep living thinking that I hated you. I didn’t actually expect you to come in when I asked. I thought I’d have to follow you through the woods, honestly.”

He fell silent, took another sip of his tea, and for the first time, you spoke. “I really didn’t want to talk to you. I wanted you to realize how much I hurt from your actions, but I think maybe I took that a little too far. I knew you were protecting me, but I really wanted to see somebody, and I knew you wouldn’t let me out, so I ran away. I didn’t really know what I was getting into. I probably should have asked you to accompany me, at least. Not my finest moment.”

Jaemin laughed weakly, taking another sip of tea. “Not mine either. I should have trusted you more.”

“And I shouldn’t have run off without even asking for your help..”

He smiled at you, that gorgeous little smile that made your heart smile back.

“Friends?” you asked.

He hesitated for only a moment, a strange sort of disappointment flashing across his face, before he was extending his hand to meet yours. “Friends.”

You grinned at him, finishing your tea. “Great. Now I need to go yell at Kun for sending me out to see you when I didn’t need to.”

“Isn’t it good that he did?” Jaemin asked with a confused frown on his face.

“Well yes, but it was a very Cupid-like thing to do, wasn’t it? I don’t tolerate my friends trying to play Cupid with myself and my other friends.” You stood up and walked your empty tea cup to the kitchen. “Do you want to come?”

He laughed. “No, you can just tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded. “Alright.”

You walked out into the cool twilight and started going towards Kun’s house. He had a big storm coming.

☽༓☾

A few days later, you were sitting in Jaemin’s cottage again, Gaelic textbook open on your lap. Since he was close to fluent in the language, he was helping you learn it. It wasn’t an extraordinarily difficult language, but some of the words were hard to pronounce and he had been eager to help you.

“Look here,” he said, pointing at some words on the page. “Say this for me.”

“Tha gaol agam ort,” you replied. He grinned.

“That’s how it’s written, but not how it’s said. Okay, now listen to me pronounce it. ‘Ha geul akeum orsht’. Repeat that for me.”

“‘Ha geul akeum orsht’? That’s how you say that?” you demanded. “This is like French! They don’t spell things anywhere close to how they’re said!”

“Unfortunately, most languages don’t. The same goes for Korean verb conjugations and English words and, yes, French everything, but it’s just learning new rules. After a while you understand it. I promise that you’ll get it eventually. You have the rest of your life.”

You looked over at him suddenly, questions rising to the forefront over Gaelic words. “Am I really going to stay here forever? Am I never going to see Earth again, just sit here as a useless human surrounded by powerful and immortal vampires, until I die?”

He seemed surprised by the questions. “I’m not sure any of us had really thought about it,” he said carefully.

“You all had just accepted the fact that I was stuck on your plane of existence with nothing worth doing to do? When am I going to use Scottish Gaelic, Jaemin? When will this actually come in handy, except to distract me? I’m here to do nothing, and the moment I go back to Earth, I start suffering. What am I meant to do here, Jaem?”

Jaemin gently lifted the textbook from your lap and put in on his coffee table, then pulled you into his side for a hug. You snuggled into him, inhaling the scent of sunshine and warm earth. Comfort.

“I don’t know exactly how to make you feel better,” Jaemin murmured from somewhere above your head. “But we all like having you around, you know that. It’s nice to have someone young around. We haven’t turned a human in about thirty years, so the novelty has worn off, and here we have this beautiful creature who is new in so many ways. You’re refreshing, and you’re human, so you’ll continue to be refreshing.”

“Well, thank you,” you said, muffled in his side. “But still, I don’t feel like I have anything worth doing here. You can all do anything I can do, just ten times faster. I have no unique skills or brains or anything. So what am I meant to do? I can’t even go spy on the other humans or anything because I can’t go back to Earth!”

Jaemin shifted you a little bit in his arms and started rubbing your shoulder softly. “Is there anything you particularly enjoy doing? Maybe you could do art, or gardening? Or I have this book of old forms of witchcraft?”

You turned to face him. “You have a book of witchcraft sitting around?”

He released you and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I found a papyrus scroll in this ruined Egyptian city, and I kept it just ‘cause it was cool. Then I learned hieroglyphics so that I could translate it and made a copy. Unfortunately, witchcraft is… not my strong suit, and I’m somewhat afraid of giving it away in case I never see it again. I spent a lot of time and energy on that translation.”

“And you want me to use it?” you asked, confused. Why on earth would he give it to you if he didn’t trust the perfectly composed vampires around him? “I mean it sounds super cool, but aren’t you worried about it being in my hands? I am a human, after all.”

“Well-”

Jaemin was cut off at that moment by a sharp knock on the door. At least, you assumed it was a knock, it sounded a little bit more like a wet thwap than a knock. Jaemin blurred slightly as he ran over to the door and opened it, revealing cloudy skies dropping rain onto a harried-looking Ten.

“Ten-hyung?” he asked, sounding as confused as you felt. “I’d say this is a nice surprise, but why are you here? I thought today was your Earth day? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Ten said, gasping slightly as he spoke. “I ran straight here from the Pacific.” You took a second to think about the fact that Ten was swimming in the Pacific Ocean before refocusing on him. “-future just completely shifted, a few minutes ago. Y/N-” He turned to face you completely. “Whatever you two just did, it caused you to become a vampire in the future.”

“But we were just talking?” you told him, confused. “It wasn’t like Jaem was about to bite me.” You turned to Jaemin. “Right?”

He looked at you solemnly. “If you were going to have been bitten by me, it would have already happened. Ten-hyung, are you sure that he’s a vampire in your future? Can you see more details?”

Ten closed his eyes briefly like he was trying to focus, and in the meantime a tentacle wrung the salt and rain water out of his hair. Jaemin wrinkled his nose at the growing puddle. Ten spoke, eyes fluttering open slowly. “In the parts I can see, he’s covered in this, like, tree? It’s a little bit fuzzy. It’s green, and looks like it has brown splotches like branches. Maybe a tree falls on him or something. Anyway, you take one look at him and bite ‘im. He goes limp... After that? Fuzzy scenes of him waking up and you taking him running. Like, really running. Vampire running.”

Jaemin took a shaky breath. “Okay, I don’t know why our conversation would have caused a tree to fall on him in the future. We were talking about, like, Earth and art and stuff. Oh, and my witchcraft book.”

Ten’s eyes refocused on him, narrowing slightly. “You’re going to give him your witchcraft book after not letting me touch it? That’s a little underhanded.” His eyes narrow briefly before looking at you. “But maybe that’s it. You’ll just have to make sure that he doesn’t practice any witchcraft under the cover of trees. Otherwise I think you’ll be fine. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks Ten,” you murmured. “For warning us and stuff.”

“Of course. Now I need to go back to the Pacific. Ta ta!” Ten waved to you and walked out the door.

“Well,” Jaemin said, “that’s some news, huh?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Do you think that it’s okay for me to practice witchcraft with this in my future?”

“I do. I think you’ll be fine. We’ll keep you as safe as we possibly can, and if you become a vampire… at least it won’t be because I gave in. I’ll still be strong.”

“Jaem, I don’t think that was ever in question.”

“It was for me.” His voice went dark momentarily, then he brightened up again. “At any rate, I think we can safely teach you some things that’ll keep life interesting.”

You grinned. “Then let’s get started.”

☽༓☾

You were surprised at how easily witchcraft came to you, in the beginning. Jaemin insisted that you had some sort of gift with it, and as much as you told him that was silly, it seemed possible. You could easily understand instructions on Jaemin’s careful translations that even he couldn’t decipher. You gave up on Gaelic after a while, focused more on learning the original Egyptian Hieroglyphs of the spells and potions. You trusted Jaemin’s precise translation, but there was something unique about seeing an instruction in a new language and being able to understand it.

Days turned to weeks as you experimented with the materials growing in and around Vahmpyr. Taeil, who you eventually met, turned out to be a valuable resource. He was an avid collector of ancient written works, including but not limited to an original Greek copy of The Odyssey, Chinese bamboo books saved from the book burnings of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, and an exact replica of the Rosetta Stone. Taeil must have been ancient himself to have all of these valuables, but he still had the energy of the far younger members of their coven, which amazed you. He showed you different specialties of different cultures within witchcraft, ideas born from scrolls and tablets, bamboo strips and wax blocks. It was far more information than you could ever decipher or use during your short human life, but every day you got better, starting out small with poultices that you had to injure yourself to try and ward spells that exhausted you but could make your home more secure than any in Vahmpyr (or on Earth).

At one point Chenle gifted you a book covered in old stains and strangely familiar drawings that you started to use before abruptly realizing that it was an old chemistry textbook. You invited him over that afternoon and whacked him over the head with the thick pages. He told you with a disgruntled look that he put a lot of effort into that, thank you very much. And besides, chemistry was a magic in itself. (His words, not yours.) After that you made sure to thoroughly inspect any gifts you received from the more mischievous family members.

Lucas came over and helped you set up more complicated equipment that you couldn’t lift, like a big cauldron, which you actually did use on the regular after you learned how to use it, and after some consideration you set up a chemistry station for the odd experiment. At this point your house was more magical items than actual living space, something that Kun was quick to point out when he came over.

“You know, you should really be more careful about having all of these powders and dusts and-” He cut himself off with a distasteful wrinkle of his nose. “Things.” He pursed his lips, looking at you. “We don’t really know what these things will do to you in the long run. You have to be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded distractedly, making his coffee and a drink for yourself. “Maybe I’ll clean it all up sometime, but you know I’m awfully busy these days.” You used a spoon to stir in the milk and sugar, tapping the metal against the china in a soft clink.

He sighed tiredly. “Your health is less important than staying busy?”

You gave him a look that you hoped conveyed your need to stay busy, to continuously learn and improve. “Keeping my schedule full keeps me healthy, Kun. At least mentally.”

Kun didn’t look impressed by your reasoning. “I think your mental health will go down pretty quickly if you get sick and can’t do anything because you’re stuck in bed twenty-four-seven.”

You gave a sigh of your own at that. “And as always,” you announced to the room at large, “Doctor Kun gives amazing advice that I shouldn’t ignore but probably will.”

Y/n,” he said in a warning tone. “Seriously. You need to be careful! No human has ever lived here for so long, and I worry about you catching some mysterious illness that nobody has ever heard of!”

“Kun, I will do my best to keep myself healthy. I’ve put every kind of ward that I can around my house to protect me, I have magically circulated and cleaned air, I have literal superhumans to protect me from anything else, and I’m happy here! I finally have something to contribute. Maybe someday I’ll find some concoction or enchantment that will let me visit Earth, even. I just don’t know. But I’m going to keep trying.”

He took his coffee out of your grasp and walked back into the living room, which housed your indoor plants, magical and earthly. “That’s all I can ask,” he said, voice betraying his disappointment in that fact. “I’ll still give you monthly checkups for a while though, just to make sure.

“Can’t Jaemin take care of me?” you asked, thinking of Jaemin with his warm smile and caring words and the smell of sun on dirt and- well. Jaemin felt like safety in a person. Kun was wonderful, but Jaemin was just that little bit better, that little bit more comfortable to be around.

“He could,” Kun replied after taking a sip of coffee. “But I know he’s been busy lately though, he’s been on Earth for a few days checking on all of his businesses and stocks and his human personas. On the other hand, I hardly go back to Earth for more than a twelve hour shift here and there.”

“I understand.”

“Plus, I’m about two thousand years older than Jaemin, I have a lot of experience.”

“How old are you?” Two thousand years older than Jaemin would make Kun… pretty darn old.

Kun grinned. “I was around before and after Jesus came to Earth. I was around before the Terracotta Army was built. I was born in China circa when the Hanging Gardens of Babylon are said to have been built. Taeil-hyung turned me into a vampire when I was twenty five, and I’ve been twenty five ever since. None of us know when he was born. When you’re as old as he is, even with a vampire’s memory, history starts to blend together. He says he remembers the Pyramids at Giza going up, though, and that was after he had been a vampire for what he thinks was a few hundred years. He’s literally prehistoric.”

“Wow,” was all you could think to say. No wonder Taeil had so many artifacts. He was one. Kun was too, for that matter. And Jaemin… Jaemin would have been born AD, but how far into it? You asked Kun this question and he chuckled.

“Jaemin was born in fourteen forty two. He was twenty when Jeno turned him, and he’s still twenty, five hundred years later.”

“Who turned Taeil, then? I can hardly imagine a vampire older than him, even.”

“We’re not sure. Whoever it was is so unimaginably old now that even I can’t comprehend it. But whoever the original vampire was must have turned a whole lot of people. There are dozens more vampires just within our small community, and an entire plane full of them. From what I can tell, Taeil isn’t even the oldest. There’s this man who lives in the mountains by himself, and from what I hear, he hasn’t been seen by another vampire in nearly three thousand years. He’s almost a myth around here anymore. Taeil knew him back when Vahmpyr was sparsely populated, and he told us that the man - his name is Jinyoung Park - is older than him by so many years that he is to Taeil as Taeil is to me. He probably lived before Mesopotamia existed, even, or was right at the beginning of it. Before him, we have no idea who the first vampire was. If that vampire is still alive, he she or they hasn't been seen since, well, before living memory. If they still exist that would mean that vampires have been around since before modern humanity. I really wish we knew.”

“I wish you knew too,” you breathed. You had never really considered that immortality meant that the same vampires who existed before the Pyramids at Giza still lived among humanity today. It was mind boggling. The history in just their brains alone could fill thousands of textbooks and solve history’s greatest mysteries. But they couldn’t show themselves to the humans without risk. Even the people that they bit and sent back to Earth wouldn’t dare talk about their experiences, for fear of sounding crazy. Their gift to the world would never be wrapped up in gold tissue paper and presented with the proper awe, but here you were, in this modern metropolis of history. It truly hurt your brain to consider everything that came with that sort of age.

Just then a yell came from outside. “Kun-ge! Are you with Y/N?!” It sounded suspiciously like a panicked Yangyang. He never got panicked.

Kun stood up and hurried over to the front door, blurring in his hurry. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Well, uh, we may or may not have set Yuta’s house on fire…” Yangyang’s voice trailed off as Kun’s face reacted. First his eyebrows raised, then his mouth dropped open, and finally his eyes squeezed shut before reopening after a moment.

“You did what?”

Yangyang’s voice was small. “We set Yuta’s house on fire?” His voice was so high and squeaky that it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me, and Hyuck, and Taemin-hyung.”

“Oh my,” Kun said, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “I am going to murder Taemin-hyung.” He turned to Yangyang. “I might murder you and Donghyuck too.”

“We didn’t mean to,” Yangyang said. “It just happened.”

“You didn’t mean to set Yuta’s house on fire? How do you accidentally set someone’s house on fire?”

“You put on an impromptu fire show right next to the house, mess up a trick, and accidentally throw a flaming baton on their house. It was surprisingly easy. Anyway, I know that you would know what to do. You and Y/N both.”

Kun ran his hand through his hair again. You watched as a few light brown strands flew to the carpet with the force of it. “Y/N, do you have anything for flaming houses?”

You looked around your living room as though that would help you remember whether you did or not. “I think so, let me check my storage room,” you muttered, already dashing away. You did, in fact, have something that you loosely translated from the Egyptian spell scroll as “Fire Away Goop,” or something similar. It was a green, nearly transparent goop that sloshed in its bottle but it was too thick to really flow. It oozed more than anything. When it hit heat, it tended to solidify into a more solid green that would be easily removable from Yuta’s house, if said house was still there by the time you got to wherever it was. You grabbed the bottle and rushed back to the living room, panting. Kun turned to you.

“Is it okay if I carry you, to make sure we get there in time?”

“Won’t I be too heavy?”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “We’re literally the strongest things known to man. I’ll be fine.”

“Then sure. Let’s go save Yuta’s house!”

Kun carried you piggyback as fast as he could, your face tucked into his shoulder to avert most of the vertigo induced by such high speeds. Trees flashed by in browns and greens, and then you were going through the city, past the city, through more trees, in a rush that you couldn’t quite comprehend but which caused a sinking feeling to settle in your gut. Yuta’s house was far away. By the time you got there, the house was fully consumed by the flames, the fire burning merrily without knowledge that it was ruining a man’s home.

A man, presumably Yuta, stood out front, another man on his knees next to him. Once you were next to them, you realized that the standing man had the kneeling man’s ear in a tight grip. You figured that the man on his knees must have been the infamous Donghyuck.

“Yuta-hyung, Hyuck,” Kun greeted them as he set you on the ground.

“Yangyang,” said Yuta, turning around, “You’re a bit late.” He nodded at you and Kun in acknowledgement, as Donghyuck yelped at the tug on his ear. Yuta had black hair streaked through with neon green, and it framed a narrow face and startlingly pink lips. You wondered, in the back of your head, if he used lip tint. You also briefly entertained the idea that he contoured his face, because there was no way that he looked that good without makeup. He’s a vampire, your consciousness provided. All of them look that good.

“Sorry hyung,” Yangyang murmured. “We came as fast as we could!”

Kun stepped forward. “We brought Y/N, as you can see, and he has something to put the fire out.” Something like hope sparked in Yuta’s eyes as he looked over you again, taking in details of your appearance.

“Do you really? Well, go ahead.” He gestured to the house and the flames danced in your face, leaving you to hope that this gloop worked for fires this big. You took a deep breath and poured the goop onto the grass, where it oozed between the blades of grass like a big blob of snot on the lawn.

“Atlaq alnaar,” you murmured to it, and it rose into the air, following your mental directions toward the fire. The moment they made contact, the goop started to solidify and expand, covering the fire rapidly. Green overtook bright reds and oranges as you focused on the fire and made the goop cover it.

“Y/N!” Someone was calling to you, their voice out of focus as though you heard them from underwater. “You’ll get covered!” You were vaguely aware of a hand trying to lead you away, but the spell kept you rooted in place, your feet seemingly super glued to the lawn. You kept focus on the fire as the last flames were overtaken and put out. Yuta’s house was now a giant green blob. From what you could see through the jello-like goop, it had sustained a minimal amount of damage considering the amount of flames you had seen. You were so engrossed in the green substance that you missed the warning signs before it swallowed you up too, ever expanding.

It took your outstretched hands first, pulling you forward into it. Through your panic you had just enough brain power left to be amazed at how thick it was before your feet and legs were covered too, nearly encased in the goop. You leaned your head back as far as you could, trying to keep yourself in the open air, but the goop kept expanding. You felt more than saw the vampires try to dig you out, but while the spell still fueled it, the goop was surprisingly strong. A hand grasped your elbow as the goop grasped your neck and chin, keeping you completely still as it covered more of you. The hand let go. It couldn’t do anything now.

You took a deep breath just before the goop covered your mouth, nose, and eyes. You thought you felt something on the back of your neck but didn’t think much of it until it started burning. Any strength you had left crumbled as your eyes started stinging and your oxygen ran out. You couldn't see, but it felt as though the world was spinning around you, as though you had been disconnected from everything but the pain. Even through your lightheadedness the pain persisted. It had spread now, from your neck over your shoulders like the creeping vines on the back wall of Jaemin’s cottage.

Jaemin.

You realized through your hazy thoughts that you would never see him again. Your eyes and nose burned now, from tears you couldn’t cry and the pain slowly enveloping you.

You couldn’t hold on any longer.

Black.

☽༓☾

Across a forest and a small town, Jaemin was working on his Hindi pronunciation when Ten burst into his home for the second time in what seemed like a very short period. He wasn’t dripping this time, just looked thoroughly terrified of something.

“Jaemin! He needs help!”

“What? Who?” Jaemin stood up and walked over to his friend. Ten’s tentacles curled and uncurled repeatedly as he spoke.

“Y/N! The vision got sharper, which usually means it’s happening. The green blob wasn’t a tree, it was some sort of spell! He’s going to die if we don’t get there fast.”

“Where are we going?” Jaemin demanded as they ran through the trees around his cabin.

“Yuta’s house. Or, at least, where it used to be.”

“What happened to Yuta’s house?”

“Yangyang and Hyuck burned it down.”

“Ah.”

Ten was panting as he continued speaking. “I think that must be what the spell was for. Some sort of fire putter-outer.”

Jaemin tried to think back to all of the books he had given you, recalling a spell that sounded suspiciously like what Ten described. “If the one I think you’re talking about is the spell he used,” he told Ten, “we might not be able to save him by the time we get there.” A pang echoed through his chest. An empty feeling, as though your small human life had affected his own so strongly as to make him miss you without knowing that you were gone. Jaemin ran on, leaving Ten behind when he paused to rest, sprinting at his highest speed towards where you were.

When he arrived on Yuta’s plot, most of his vision turned green, not because things were actually green, but from the sheer size of the lime coloured stuff all over Yuta’s house. He had been correct when he guessed at which spell you had used. His gaze fell on Kun, Yangyang, Yuta, and Donghyuck, who stood at the still-expanding base of the blob, seemingly trying to get something out. He gasped. You were in the thing. He ran up and tried to help the others dig you out, to no avail. They couldn't do anything against the spell so long as you were alive, and he wasn’t about to kill the person he had worked so hard to protect. He tried to hold onto your elbow as it was swallowed, but was afraid of hurting you. They all watched as you took a deep breath and the gloop covered your face.

Jaemin slumped, out of ideas. There was no way to save you that he knew of. Then he thought back to Ten’s vision. He had to change you. It was the only way. You wouldn’t need to breathe, wouldn’t need to do anything. You could still be here with him. It was with that in mind that he lunged forward at the last moment and latched onto your neck, stretching his jar as wide as it would go. His fangs, already dripping uncomfortably with venom in your presence, sank into your veins, and he felt it as you stiffened slightly. You couldn’t move much in your current situation, but your muscles seized all the same. He stayed next to you as long as he could, until he was in danger of being swallowed into the goop as well. He licked the wounds closed as efficiently as possible and stepped back with the others to see what happened.

It was obvious that you had gone unconscious. The goop stopped moving so rapidly and seemed to pause in its conquest of the front yard. It started oozing slowly around again, creating something of a reverse muffin top as the top shell hardened and the bottom bits leaked out. They backed up to the edge of the yard and Jaemin used his (admittedly small) knowledge of spellcraft to create wards that would protect the house down the street and hopefully contain the goo. They watched in silence as the green kept expanding. Then Yangyang spoke.

“Will Y/N die?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jaemin slowly. “He shouldn’t, at any rate. I bit him.”

A collective tremor went around the group, as though none of them wanted to appear surprised but they all were.

“It was the only thing I could think of that gave Y/N a chance, so I had to try it,” Jaemin continued. “But Kun-hyung knows more than me on that subject.”

Kun looked pensive as he considered what Jaemin had said. “It should work, in theory. But between the wards always up around Y/N’s house, this spell, and the venom in his system, his body might now be able to take it. It’s just a game of chance, unless we can find some way to take some stress off of his body.”

They all looked to Jaemin again.

“Is there some way to break the wards that he has up?” Yuta asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin said, frowning. “Not without taxing him further. We definitely can’t affect this spell without killing him, and as far as the transformation goes, we’d need to be able to get to his body in there. That’s obviously not happening either.”

“So what can we do?” Donghyuck’s voice was small and he sounded almost repentant, as though he thought this whole thing was his fault. It sort of was, but it was odd to hear that tone from him.

“We ask Ten what he can see of the future and go from there,” Jaemin said. “There’s not much else that we can do, unless anyone knows someone better with spells than Y/N.”

The whole group shook their heads. Spells could be cast by any human variant creature that they knew of, but spellcraft was a human specialty. You in particular were gifted beyond what they had seen in a very long while.

While they thought about it, Ten burst forth from the trees down the street and ran towards their group. He slowed down as he took in the blob, now pressing against the wards that contained it. Jaemin could feel a subtle sort of pressure in his head as his spells kept the goop within Yuta’s plot.

“So?” Ten asked Jaemin as he walked up. “Did it work?”

“We’re not sure. He’s not dead, or the Fire Away spell would have gone small and liquidy again. On the other hand, none of us know any way to get him out, and Kun-hyung’s worried about the toll that all of this” - he waved his hands at the blob - “will kill him while he turns. We wanted to ask what you were seeing as of now.”

Ten closed his eyes, most of his tentacles going still as he focused. There was one that whacked anxiously against the dirt beneath him, beating a steady rhythm against the earth. After a few minutes, his eyes opened and he refocused his eyes on the group around him.

“Well?” Yangyang prompted when he didn’t speak. Ten sighed.

“Good news is that he’s probably not going to die.”

“And the bad news?”

“He might die.”

“What do you mean, Ten-hyung?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell which future is the one that will come true. It’s like there are two possible ways for the future to go, and neither of them is solid. Either he makes it through, or he dies. The worst part is that I can’t tell what causes his death. It could happen two seconds from now, or two hours, or two days. I just don’t know.”

“I don’t remember your visions ever having two outcomes,” Kun said, brows furrowed.

“I haven’t ever had one like this.”

“Well,” Jaemin said, “I’ll just stay here until he wakes up.”

“And where should I go?” asked Yuta. “Maybe nobody told you, but this is my house that just got burned down.” He threw a glare at Hyuck and Yangyang.

“Go stay with Mark-hyung or something. You sleep over with him all the time anyway,” Donghyuck suggested, and Yuta grinned, a complete change from two seconds before.

“He’ll hate that. See you guys later!” He skipped a few steps before running full tilt, phone in his hands and fingers tapping. The glow of the screen disappeared quickly from Jaemin’s view, and he turned back to their now-smaller group.

“Are you sure that you want to stay here until Y/N wakes up?” Kun asked Jaemin. “I know that you don’t need sleep or anything, but that seems like a waste of time.”

“I have eternity,” Jaemin told him. “I just need to be here to watch it deflate, whether it’s because he’s turned or because…” His voice went weak. He couldn't see you die. He just couldn’t. Kun patted him on the shoulder.

“Okay. We’ll come check on you tomorrow.” As he walked away with Yangyang and Donghyuck, Jaemin heard Kun’s ‘mom voice’ come out as he lectured on the dangers of playing with fire. It made Jaemin smile a little.

His head was starting to feel uncomfortable with the pressure of his wards, so he carefully widened them, centimeter by centimeter, until there was less gloop on them. He couldn’t keep this up until you completed the transformation, he knew, but it would work for now. Maybe he could call Kibum-hyung tomorrow for help.

Until then all he had to do was sit and wait, and look at your form encased in neo pearl champagne colored jello.

☽༓☾

It was exactly twenty five hours, forty minutes, and nine seconds since Jaemin had first settled in when the goop started deflating. The hard casing that had developed collapsed in on itself when the slightly softer insides began to shrink, reminding Jaemin slightly of Honey Lemon and her chemical reactions in Big Hero 6. He sprang to his feet, rushing forward to where he could see the outline of your body inside the collapsing bubble, grabbing the empty decanter that the goop had once been held in. He scooped up the small oozing goop that remained from the spell and plugged the decanter, turning around slowly to look at your body once more.

As your still-limp body collapsed to the ground, Jaemin felt his unbeating heart sink. You didn’t move, there was no rise and fall to your chest. There was no sound of your breath in the air. Your eyes didn’t roll around under your eyelids. You seemed… corpselike. Dead. But it couldn’t be. Ten had said that you would probably survive! Jaemin opened his phone and pressed Ten’s contact to call it. He answered on the third ring.

“Jaemin? What’s up?”

“Ten-hyung,” Jaemin said, and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Y/N… I think, is dead?”

Ten sucked in a breath, audible even through the phone. “Jaemin I’m so sorry-”

Jaemin cut him off. “Hyung, you said he would make it!”

“There was always that chance that he wouldn’t-”

“But you said-” Jaemin’s voice cracked again and he fell into silence. He couldn’t cry, and he had never wished he could until now. Tears might convey the hole in his chest, the emptiness of his existence without your life to partner him.

“Jaemin,” came Ten’s voice, and it was soft, delicate. “I’m so so sorry. I thought that he would make it, but there was always that second path. I can’t-” He took a deep breath. “I can’t see him anymore. I think… I think he might be gone.”

“No!” Jaemin exclaimed hotly. “He can’t be!”

“Jaemin-”

He hung up. Whatever Ten-hyung had to say wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t bring you back. He was along now, with your body and this stupid Flame Away Goop that had managed to take your life despite Ten’s prophecies and Jaemin’s best efforts. The person that you were was gone. Now you were just a still corpse, a painful reminder of what could have been and what should have been and what couldn’t be.

“I’ll give you a proper funeral,” Jaemin told your body as he lifted it into his arms gently. “I promise.”

☽༓☾

For the next three days, Jaemin worked non-stop. He prepared a funeral for you, ignored everyone except to invite them to the event. He could still picture your smile, the way he had to support you those first few steps. He remembered how you had called him gorgeous, how you had said I love you in Gaelic to him without knowing what it meant. He recalled the trust you had for him despite his own occasional self-loathing, the way you had reminded him of his worth every time you were around him.

He missed you. He missed you a lot.

People had called him, came knocking once an hour. He eventually just shut off his phone so he didn’t have to hear their pleas for him to let them in. All of his hyungs and all of his noonas came to make sure he was okay, but would he ever be? There was a Y/N shaped hole in him that he didn’t think could ever be filled up again. Jeno came around three times a day with hug offerings, but Jaemin shut him out. He knew it hurt his friends, knew they only wanted to help, but you were gone and nobody understood. Nobody had loved you the way he had. Nobody had your blood quite literally on their hands, flowing through their veins.

It hurt to think about that. He “lived” while you were dead; he had gained life through your death and that was the most ironic thing. In his attempt to save you, he may have killed you.

He hurt.

On the fourth day since your death, Jaemin gently dressed your body in the best clothes he could find, brushed your hair, and put you in a casket, standing you in an open clearing, the one where he had tried to send you back to Earth. It was the largest clearing nearby, and all of the vampires that had met you plus Ten came to pay their respects. They spoke about the short time they had known you, and the strong impact you had made despite that. They told of how you had gone back to Earth and suffered until you had returned. They told of your feats practicing witchcraft and most of all they spoke of your kindness, the lack of repulsion towards them. They spoke of your kind smile and the way you had fit in so nicely with their community.

Jaemin started not-crying, as vampires did, and he thought he would be alone, but Jeno joined him. Lucas joined him. Jisung and Chenle joined him. Ten and Johnny joined him. He was not the only one who had loved you. Donghyuck joined him. Yangyang and Yuta and Kun joined him. He was not the only one who felt that your death was his fault.

Jaemin was not the only person who choked out their words in an imitation of crying. Jaemin was not the only person who missed you. Jaemin was not the only one who wanted you back. Jaemin was not the only one.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed his friends until they surrounded him in a huge hug. It wasn’t a warm hug, necessarily, but it was a hug nonetheless and made him feel better. He was not the only one.

He was still dealing with the hole in his chest, but he had others to patch himself up with now. Like each person who had known you could bring a part of you back through their memories of you. It was nice, almost.

☽༓☾

The first thing you realized was that you could hear again. Your ears were uncovered, and you vaguely registered words being choked out somewhere near you. It sounded like a large number of people were very sad about something. You wondered what it could be. The second thing you realized was that you were laying down on some sort of padded… thing. It felt like too much work to open your eyes, so you felt around and realized that you were in a padded box. A padded box? That was new.

You tried to sniff the air and were met with the smell of cologne, not too strong but apparently on enough people that it permeated the air. You got hints of perfume too, but it was far less strong. Something in the box shifted and you felt breaths on your face. Were people looking at you in your sleep? Come to think of it, why were these many people around you while you slept at all? That seemed sort of rude. You tried to remember getting here but came up blank. Your last memories were of the pain before you passed out. You shivered at the memory.

“He’s awake!” someone shouted. The noise hurt your ears after the deafening silence of your previous state, and you itched to get away from them. A murmur of sound rolled through the room and then a familiar scent invaded your senses, that of sun-warmed earth.

“Y- Y/N?” Jaemin asked hesitantly. “Can you hear me? Are you in there?”

He sounded absolutely wrecked, like his voice had been stripped of his usual honey and sunshine. You tried to open your eyes, but it was too bright and you just couldn’t, so you nodded slightly.

“Oh my- Y/N,” he continued. “Can’t you open your eyes for me, please?”

You shook your head no.

“Okay, that’s fine, sweetheart. Let me get you out of there.” There was the sound of something wooden being bonked against a wall, but that faded in comparison to the name. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

You were lifted gently from your padded box and carried somewhere shady and cold. It felt nice against your skin. He felt nice against your skin. He carried you gently, like you were made of glass, but you felt surprisingly strong, just out of sorts. As though while your mind struggled to catch up, your body had strengthened. It was a very different sensation to that of your first time waking up in Jaemin’s house. He walked you through what you thought must be the forest for a bit before he sat down and nestled you into his side. You felt as though some muscles should be unhappy about the position, but you felt completely comfortable.

“Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice came to you, soft and warm and familiar. It was shaking slightly. “Can you open your eyes for me now?”

You focused on your eyelids, raising them slowly until you could see Jaemin. He had on a suit; black jacket over a white shirt, accented by a thin black ribbon tied loosely around his neck. His pink hair fell neatly in waves over his forehead and you reached up to brush away a piece that had fallen over his eyes, smiling.

“Hey Jaem. What happened?” Your voice wasn’t weak, like you supposed it should have been. It came out like a melody into the air, and you marvelled internally at the sound of it, how smooth it was. It felt nice.

“You-” Jaemin broke off for a second, rearranging your limbs next to him. “You were trying to save Yuta’s house. We had to rebuild part, but it’s fine. He stayed with Mark for a few days. For the most part, your spell worked. But then, it- it swallowed you. I got there in time to watch as you were absorbed by this green goop and I thought I was too late. I bit you, back here.” He brushed his fingers gently over the sides of your neck and you shivered. “But you didn’t wake up… I thought I was too late. You weren’t breathing, and you weren’t awake… I have no idea how you managed to cancel the spell without waking up or dying. So I-” He made a choked up sound and tightened his arm around your shoulders. “We’re at your funeral. Ten couldn’t see your future anymore, so we thought you were dead…” He trailed off.

“Wow,” you said. “I died? Then how am I here now? I feel alive?”

“It worked. It must have. You don’t have a heartbeat, but you’re awake. I don’t know what happened exactly, but you must be a vampire now.”

“Huh. I thought I’d feel more… hungry.”

He laughed. It glittered over your ears and you smiled, an involuntary reaction to him. “It’ll kick in, don’t worry.”

“What about the others? I mean, Lucas and Kun and everyone? Are they just at my funeral right now? Without me?”

“Oh.” Jaemin looked as though he had forgotten about them. “I guess they are. Let’s go see them?”

“Let’s.”

☽༓☾

After that day, it didn’t take you long to realize that the other vampires were purposefully putting you with Jaemin for just about everything. On days where you went to hang out with Lucas, he would ask you how Jaemin was doing. If you didn’t know, he would suggest that you go and visit him. Kun asked you to make sure that Jaemin was feeling okay. Yuta, who you were finally allowed to meet and hang out with, constantly suggested that you should spend more time with him. It was strange. Nobody had seemed to mind that you had your own hobbies before your transformation, but now that you were a vampire, it was as though you were meant to be with Jaemin all of the time. You asked Lucas about it once you got sick of the mysterious treatment and he looked at you heavily.

“When you got trapped in that goopy stuff, Jaemin went all weird. He didn’t move for, like, more than 24 hours, and once he thought you were dead… he didn’t talk to any of us until the funeral. We worry about him, and you seem to make him really happy, so we’re trying to keep you two around each other.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you chose the very eloquent “oh,” as your response. Lucas chuckled.

“I know. It was really weird, I’ve never seen him like that. I think we’ve seen a lot of new sides of Jaemin since you came along.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s… well, I don’t think it’s bad or good. It just is. You affect him differently than anyone else we know.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“Y/N, you idiot, he’s in love with you.”

“He’s what?”

Lucas sighed. “He’s in love with you.”

“Why do you think that? This is Jaemin we’re talking about here. Jaemin. He’s, like, beauty incarnate and he’s smart and kind and wonderful in every aspect of everything. He just can’t be in love with me.”

“He’s in love with you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He can't be.”

“Why not?”

“I just told you why.”

Lucas sighed again, more deeply. “But you’re in love with him.”

“I-” You consider that. “I guess?”

“That wasn’t a question.” He rolled his eyes.

“Do you think it’s possible that he actually does like me back?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, after that, Lucas managed to steer the conversation onto other subjects and you refocused on those things, but it echoed in your head. He’s in love with you.

☽༓☾

Even with this new information bouncing around the forefront of your brain, you still had to go and spend time with Jaemin. Maybe it was a little strange for your thoughts to short circuit when you saw him, the little whisper of what if in your head. Maybe it was a little peculiar for a vampire such as yourself to stutter through sentences because you were busy thinking about what life would be like if he really did like you back. Maybe you spent less time talking on your walks together because you wanted to lay next to him in a clearing and watch the clouds instead. Just maybe.

If Jaemin noticed any of your strange behaviour, he didn’t call you out on it. He either really wasn’t paying all that much attention, or he knew enough about you to know that you wouldn’t want him to pry. It was strange, really, how well you knew each other in such a short time. You supposed that since you spent so much time together it wasn’t improbable, but he knew you nearly as well as your old human friends back home.

Thinking about your old memories was a strange experience. You could remember everything as clearly as your human self could, but you noticed more the lack of detail within the images, the way your human eyes couldn’t move as fast as your vampire ones, and your reflexes weren’t as fast, and the way you fixated on one part of the picture without taking in the details of the rest of your vision. You had entirely blocked out memories of driving, they were too harrowing. You recalled more easily now all of the times you had nearly hit something or someone, and while you couldn't die now, at least not that easily, you could have easily fallen prey to the fatal blind spot more times than you’d care to admit.

When you told Jaemin about that, he laughed that laugh you loved so much. “I was born in fourteen forty-two, Y/N. We didn’t have cars back then. The only thing on the street that would run me over was a horse-drawn carriage.”

“Well,” you retorted, “you should consider yourself lucky then. Carriages and horses don’t sound half so bad as giant hunks of metal flying at each other at eighty miles per hour.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he mused, stroking an imaginary beard. “Maybe I was lucky to be born in Korea during the 1400s. You may have heard of the emperor Sejong the Great? I was born during his rule. He was one of the best emperors Korea ever had, he introduced hangul and united the country under Confucian principles so that there was more love for the country and the people living in it. Peaceful few years we had there, from what little I remember. After that, though? Lots of killing, children on the throne, et cetera et cetera. Not so fun. And I was actually able to die through all of that, so that wasn’t pleasant. But then King Sejo, the one who did the killing, actually did a pretty okay job of ruling the country and we had a few more years of prosperity. He died six years after my transformation. I missed that event because I was here in Vahmpyr getting to know Jeno, who turned me.”

“How much of the group was around, at that point?”

“Well…” Jaemin closed his eyes briefly in thought. “Here, let me draw you a family tree.” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote ‘Moon Taeil’ at the top. “Okay so as you know, Taeil is here as the first of us. He turned Yuta-hyung, Kun-hyung, Johnny-hyung, and Taeyong-hyung.” He wrote in their names under Taeil’s, spacing them out across the paper.

“Yuta-hyung turned Sicheng-hyung and Shotaro; Kun-hyung turned Dejun-hyung and Lucas-hyung; Johnny-hyung turned Jungwoo-hyung and Mark, and Taeyongie-hyung turned Hyuck, Doyoung-hyung, and Jaehyun hyung.” He labeled all of these names, then drew more stems leading from Jaehyun, Lucas, and Dejun.

“Jaehyun-hyung turned Sungchan, Lucas-hyung turned Hendery-hyung and Yangyang, and Dejun-hyung turned Renjun.” He drew all of these connections and stemmed Renjun’s name down even farther.

“Renjun turned Jeno and Chenle, then Jeno turned me, and I turned Jisung and now you.” He finished the tree with a flourish, black ink stark against the creamy paper. They were all connected, in some way, to Taeil’s venom. And there was you, at the very bottom, your name small next to Jisung’s.

“You guys are all so… connected.”

“Yep! We’re all one big family.”

“Do you guys have, like, family reunions? And who changed Joy and her friends? Or what’s-his-face? Taemin?”

“We don’t really all get together a lot, just because most of us have jobs on Earth or spend our days doing stuff on our own. Some of them like having flings all the time. Obviously none of us can get STDs or get pregnant, so they can do that, no strings attached. We sort of hang out in our individual groups for the most part, and then hang out every once in a while. As far as the others, we think that they must have come from the same person as Taeil-hyung, a very very old vampire. There are other stories like ours across Vahmpyr, where one vampire created one member of each coven and let us grow from there. The difference is that some of them actually have good relationships with those older vampires, whereas I’ve never met ours. I’ve heard that there’s a man called Park Jae-sang who actually comes around to spend time with the vampires he’s changed. The closest we have to an old vampire is Leeteuk-hyung, and he isn’t really around much, plus he’s not that much older than Taeil-hyung.

“Anyway, to answer your question, when I was turned, nearly everyone was around already. Only Yangyang, Sungchan, Shotaro, Chenle, and Jisung are younger than me. And now you.”

“Wow, so you had to meet everyone right after your transformation? I bet that was chaotic.”

“It was, but it was also fun. I got to be the baby for a while. Then the others came around and I somehow became a mother figure.”

You laughed. Jaemin was a mother figure, for sure. He liked to take care of the people around him, including humans that his brothers had brought home for him to patch up. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

He giggled along with you, that laugh you adored so much, and grinned. “I guess it sort of fits me, doesn’t it? Mother Jaem.” He rolled the name over his tongue and you collapsed into laughter again. “I think that works well, yep.”

The next few days, you called him Mother Jaem, and everyone gave you weird looks, but it made Jaemin laugh hard enough that it was worth it.

☽༓☾

One day after this, Chenle pulled Jaemin aside to ask him what on Earth was going on with this whole “Mother Jaem” thing. Jaemin explained happily how it had come about. Chenle rolled his eyes dramatically.

“When are you two getting married?”

Jaemin just gave him a blank stare. “What?”

“It’s so disgusting how much you guys love each other! When can we shove you two together in a house and call it a day?”

“Um, okay, first of all, that is not how you get rid of somebody. Second, he doesn't love me? And third, there is definitely not enough space in his house for me, even if he did.”

Chenle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lucas was right, you guys are blind fools. Of course he loves you! He goes to see you all the time! And enjoys it! You’re both in love with each other and both of you are cowards.” He ran his hand through his hair, knocking a piece into his eye. He squinted unhappily but didn’t try to move it.

Jaemin sighed as he got the chunk of hair away from Chenle’s eye. “This is Y/N we’re talking about though! He might hate me for everything I put him through and only stick around because I turned him or something. Plus, he spends as much time with Lucas as with me.”

“My God, your logic is terrible. You love him, he loves you, you need to get together. Watch some dramas and kiss him in the rain or something. Lucas even told me that he loves you!”

“That’s astonishingly specific for someone who doesn’t have a romance under their belt.”

“That’s besides the point!” Chenle grabbed the sides of Jaemin’s face and held him still while he spoke. “You need to confess sometime or another before the rest of us go crazy watching you run in circles around each other.”

With that he stalked away, leaving Jaemin rubbing his face where Chenle’s fingertips had pressed into the skin. It didn’t hurt, but the echoes of his voice and his fingers held Jaemin still for a long time afterwards.

☽༓☾

The next week, Kun and Taeil invited the whole coven to a reunion at Kun’s country estate. Having never been, you looked forward to seeing the giant house as much as meeting the rest of the family. It didn’t disappoint, it was absolutely massive, at least four or five floors and extensive gardens in front. Kun gave you free run of the place, asking you to please not enter rooms marked with a “Do Not Enter” sign. Simple rule to follow. You entered the main hall first, feeling like royalty in such an elegant room. Twin staircases led from the upstairs, leading your eyes to an extravagant chandelier covered in hundreds of crystals, and a mint green ceiling. From either side of the large room extended hallways with lush pale blue rugs and endless vases on platforms. It felt as though you had entered the past, or maybe a very expensive movie set. You moved through hallways and rooms, gazing at velvet chairs and old paintings that screamed money. You wondered if someone in Vahmpyr painted them, or if they were from Earth. You found only two rooms marked “Do Not Enter,” one of which was in a long hallway of bedrooms, so you assumed it was Kun’s.

The other was in the back of a positively colossal library. The library caught your eye because of the sheer size of it. Rows upon rows of books lined the walls and seemingly endless freestanding shelves. It was as large as the main public library back home, taking up at least four average rooms worth of space per floor. Not to mention the height. You estimated that it was at least three floors high, perhaps four. An entire long wall was devoted to Kun’s studies in medicine, dating back to leeches and poultices on open wounds through Magnetic Resonance Imaging and the most advanced of current surgeries. He had records of patients stacked by century, and a desk that popped out of the wall to reveal his own notes on developing vaccines and other medicines. Had you still been human, you were certain that a room like this would have given you a headache, from the size and the amount of books to look at.

From the medicine section you moved to other sciences like forensics, geology (although that section was considerably smaller), and astronomy. You also discovered an entire section on aviation. In the astronomy section, you found cork boards with maps pinned to them, stars drawn in detail, space stations built for both humans and vampires, and more drawings you didn't know how to interpret. You pulled out a few books at random and flipped through them, smiling at the notes in the margins. Past those sections were books on every type of science you had ever heard of, and some you hadn’t.

Beyond those were histories, and Kun’s travel section. He had bins filled with brochures, maps, and travel magazines and accounts of, from what you could tell, every war known to have occurred past Kun’s turning. That blended into social studies, and you found books on language next to copies of the Bible in seemingly every version, translations of the Quran, and more religious texts. Stock market trends were recorded and stored next to books on how to hire smart and anthropology. Cultural studies were stored with ethics and political records. Newspapers appeared as well, although those were fewer than the books by far. They appeared to be from a singular area, a place called Taining County, in China. Kun must have some sort of tie to it. You made a mental note to ask him when you rejoined the others.

You climbed a staircase to the second floor, where you found a fireplace and sitting area within the books. It appeared that the entire second floor was books organized by language, starting each section with children’s books and working their way up to novels. You found all of the Romance Languages, German, Hindi, Greek, Tagalog, Russian, Dutch, Japanese, Cantonese, Thai, Korean, Arabic, Bengali, Telugu, Tamil, Urdu, Latin and more that you didn’t know. In the back was a small compilation of different countries’ sign languages, as well.

You climbed the next flight of stairs to the third floor, finding the fiction section. These were organized by genre, with horror on one shelf, science fiction hogging four shelves on the opposite walls, romance taking up a large section next to that, et cetera. You spotted a section marked “Transcribed” and walked over to it, finding books handwritten by Kun, presumably taken from other forms and written over to fit in his library. You imagined the wax tablets and stone slabs of old books and shuddered. Even as a vampire, transporting those wouldn’t be easy. This floor was open in the middle, looking down at the second. Above you, the next floor was open as well and housed more shelves.

You walked up the last staircase and came upon a musical archive. There were phonographs on tables next to more recent record turntables, followed by cassette players and CD players. Each one was in impeccable condition, and behind them were shelves of every format that would work with those machines. These were shorter shelves, since the music was thinner than books, but there were still many many of them. You saw cassette boxes labeled with the albums contained within, records in yellowed sleeves, and CDs in thick storage cases. They were organized by decade, with the earliest dating back to the late nineteenth century. You guessed that was when recorded music had been invented. Perhaps Kun could still remember older pieces though; something else you would have to ask him about. You were looking through the most recent music to see what he liked and if you had heard of it when you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“In the library, fourth floor!” you yelled back.

“Will you come back to the kitchen and help me with this?”

“Sure!”

You weren’t sure who was calling you, but it sounded like Lucas, so you ran towards the kitchen. You weren’t sure entirely why there was a kitchen, since you all drank blood anyway, but you figured there was a good reason. You added that to your growing list of things to ask Kun. You understood why you had a kitchen in your house since you had lived in it while you were still human, but Kun hadn’t been to Vahmpyr before he was turned as far as you knew. Besides, he usually lived in his apartment next to the other guys. Maybe it was just necessary to have a kitchen in a house, you didn’t know. It would have felt weird, you guessed, to live in a house without one.

When you arrived, Lucas was outside as you had guessed.

“Will you run in and grab these things for me?” he asked, handing you a sticky note. “I’ve been tasked with rounding up everyone else.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied, walking through the doors into the room. It was industrial, like Kun cooked for dozens of people at a time, and there was a surprising amount of cooking utensils that wouldn’t work on raw bodies, like spatulas. You looked down at the sticky note for the first time. If you don’t confess, it read, I will smack you when you come back out. And you know how big my hands are, I will make it hurt.

“What?” you murmured to yourself as Jaemin walked into the room.

“Oh hey Y/N, did Chenle send you?”

“No, Lucas did. But did Chenle perhaps give you a sticky note with things to get for him on it?”

Jaemin glanced down at a hot pink slip of paper in his hand. “Yeah.” He looked back up at you before his brow furrowed and he looked more thoroughly at the writing on it. He groaned. “I am going to kill Chenle.” He ran a hand through his cotton candy pink hair. “I guess I should just get it over with then.”

He walked closer to you, setting the sticky note on the counter as he came. “I’m kind of in love with you? And I have been for a while? I mean I get if you hate me after everything I put you through, but according to Chenle you like me back? And… yeah?”

You were left speechless. Hate Jaemin? Never. And he… loved… you?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jaemin waved a hand in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I’ll go, Chenle must have set up a prank.” He started walking away and you grabbed his wrist.

“Jaem, hold on. I’m just in shock. I thought there was no way you could like me back…” Your voice got steadily smaller until it trailed off at the end of your sentence as a whisper.

His entire face lit up like a Christmas tree plugged in for the first time, glowing and cheerful. “It’s not a prank?”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “No, it’s not a prank. I thought Lucas was kidding when he said you liked me back. Or at least that he was wrong. You- you’re actually telling me that you’re in love with me?”

“I am.”

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, a ringing sound in the quiet of the kitchen. It echoed back at you as though the happiness of the laugh had been multiplied. “They’re going to be so smug,” he muttered.

“Oh yes they are. We’re going to have to get back at them someday.”

“Well, we have forever,” he reminded you. You grinned and held out your hand. He took it.

“Let’s go get the teasing over with then.”

You walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. “What did Chenle threaten you with if you didn’t confess?” you asked.

“Oh, he was going to tell the group about the fling I had with Jeno when we were younger.”

You looked at him in shock. “You had a fling with Jeno? Why would you choose me over him?”

“It was just sexual attraction. While that works for some people, both of us were happier just being friends, so we ended it. I actually am in love with you, which makes all the difference. Anyway, Chenle got that story out of me on a dare once and has held it over my head ever since.”

“I wonder if he’s told Jeno he knows?”

“Probably.”

You had reached the front room, and you took a deep breath as you walked forward, though it did nothing for your undead body. “Let’s throw ourselves to the wolves.”

As you walked out into the sunlight, a cheer rose up that would have sent birds flapping away, had there been any. You heard Chenle’s unique laugh paired with Lucas’ happy shouts of “yes!” and the voices of the other men you had gotten to know, paired with ones you didn’t. They stood in a group in the garden, whooping and throwing up hats if they had any. Lucas was the first to reach you.

“I can’t believe you actually did it! I thought I’d have to smack you!” He sounded far too happy at the prospect for your liking.

The rest of the boys ran over. There was a repeating round of “finally” until someone mentioned the food getting warm and there was a great rush to get back to the patio in the garden. You sat next to Jaemin in patio chairs as the sun slowly sank past the tree line and talked with friends old and new.

There was something new, something warm inside of you. A feeling of belonging more than ever when Jaemin fed you a little and the rest of the guys booed jokingly. Under the rising stars you kissed him for the first time, a quick peck at the behest of Yangyang. There were more cheers and hugs and someone had a polaroid camera out, the flash lighting up the scene as everyone laughed.

This was where you were meant to be.

End.

!!Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!!

All rights reserved kiri-ah, 2021

[over-under-through1]

Ppg, rrb, and norm hair and clothes styles?

I FINISHED THIS ENTIRE POST AND TUMBLR CRASHED I AM SO MAD

i really need to start drafting these in my notes first, but like. no.

okay here

Buttercup:

arguably the best style. doesn’t really keep up with trends, but her aesthetic leans towards grunge

she typically sticks to the green and black color scheme. there’s a lot of dark colors and shades of green in her closet

has an obsession with converse, owns almost every single color

wears a lot of jeans

she likes to have cool socks, even though most of the time they aren’t shown. the socks are either really put together or incredibly silly, no in between

also because i’m projecting, she has, like, 30 pairs of sunglasses in different styles, shapes, and colors

her hair is just barely past her shoulders, she has layers and mini curtain bangs. the very tips of her hair are bleached with a bit of faded blue dye from whe she had a half dye years ago

Butch:

FLANNELS GALORE. so so many flannels

he wears crop tops a lot because he likes the style and finds it the easiest to move around in

i’ve recently become obsessed with pearls so. that. yeah that.

he owns one pair of shoes for every occasion. he refuses to buy anymore

lots and lots of hoodies from different brands. rip and dip, champion, teddy fresh, carhartt, etc.

his hair is a little bit wavy, he keeps it short(ish) on the sides and long at the top, gelling it up somewhat for length

right, also earrings

Bubbles:

SO. MANY. EARRINGS. SO MANY.

the most trendy out of everyone

she has a subscription to every fashion magazine you can think of, to keep up with the latest styles

doesn’t really stick with the blue aesthetic, just goes for bright colors or pastels, though she will try to have at least one accessory or clothing piece in that color for remembrance of her old style

her hair is decently long, goes down near her rib cage. she tries to do different styles every day, she likes to make her hair look as intricate as possible

Boomer:

rings? rings.

he doesn’t really know how to style himself, he wears hawaiian shirts over tank tops 50% of the time, the other 50% he just buys whatever Bubbles sends him and dresses piece by piece like whatever the model has going on

doesn’t understand fashion and if anyone says the word “aesthetic” to him one more time he will literally scream, but he tries

he wears so many friendship bracelets all down both his arms

he likes the idea of wearing eyeliner but doesn’t know how to properly exicute it so he admires from afar

he has a fuck boy hair cut. i said it. it works for him, but it’s so disappointing

he tried dying his hair once and it went horribly wrong, so how he has a permanent brown tint to his hair until he eventually grows it out and cuts it

Blossom:

definitely the most put together of all the PPG

is the only one here who can walk in high heels, she she owns that

she wears a lot of sweaters

she is a skirt enthusiast, her favorites are tennis skirts

she normally goes with the light pink-red-white color scheme

her hair is the longest out of everyone, it reaches her waist line and she is PROTECTIVE of it every since that dreadful day of the bald spot

if anyone goes within 6 inches of it, her claws come out

she really likes necklaces and has a mini collection

she still wears bows, but now they’re smaller and dont take up half her head

Brick:

save this man from himself he cannot dress for shit

he tries SO HARD but it just does NOT work

all of his clothes are 2x too big for him and he wears steal toed boots all the time cause for some unexplainable reason he always thinks something is gonna fall on his feet

“mark my words, one of these days a pipe will fall from the ceiling, land on all our feet, and only one of us will come out without broken toes. who’ll be laughing then? me. i’ll be laughing.” *dramatic evil laugh*

to his credit, he has a brand and he rolls with it

at least his hair is good. if he wouldn’t HIDE IT UNDERNEATH THE CAP FOR ONCE.

he brushes it, he keeps it tame, he makes sure it’s healthy, but it is constantly underneath the ball cap

the ball cap which has 10 holes in it that are all horribly patched up, has 1 weird stain that could be car oil but who knows on the bill, the adjustment strap is fraying and will fall apart at any moment, and the whole thing has faded from its original color so much that no one even remembers what it looked like to begin with

Bubbles has offered to fix it for him. he has refused. this is his own doing

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Black lace and property damage

Summary: With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side. Bucky’s officially starting to panic.  

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: SMUT, 18+. Sweet sex, awkward sex, some dirty sex, some sex on a car. Basically sex. Swearing. Bucky wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. My sketchy automotive knowledge.

A/N: This story is sort of an ode to anyone struggling to make time for your person. Life gets busy, so don’t be afraid to get creative. Also sometimes sex goes smooth and perfect, but often it comes with mishaps and giggles. Both ways are great, Bucky says just roll with it!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

The porch light above the front door is out.

Was he supposed to change that before he left?

--

“I’m not touching it Bucky, there are spiders up there. Big ones. The kind that give you rabies.”

“Spiders don’t have rabies.”

“No one’s ever proven that.”

--

Dammit. Yeah, he was.

Picturing you stumbling up the porch, using the pathetic flashlight on your phone to light the way, Bucky feels like a world class, Grade A jackass. He needs to make it up to you.

Good thing he has plenty of ideas for that.

“Please be home,” he mutters, “please be home, please dear god be fucking home.”

Fingers crossed, he kicks the door open and calls out a hopeful hello.

An empty echo returns.

Bucky blows out a frustrated breath.

Figures.

Slogging down the dark hallway, he slings his bag on the kitchen table with a thud. Grenade pins, bullet casings, fun size candy bar wrappers, and handfuls of beer bottle caps rattle loose in the army green canvas and he grimaces.

One of these days, maybe, just fucking maybe, he’ll convince Natasha to stop using his bags as her garbage bin.

Ignoring that disaster zone (a problem for future Bucky), he wanders over to the sink, where he spies a small tableau on the counter. Propped up beside his favorite coffee mug, the one with sparkly pink letters proclaiming “Bitch, I’m Fabulous”, is a folded piece of paper, his name scrawled across the front.

He flips it open.

“Hey Bucky Bear. Don’t let your sexy ass fall asleep before I get home, I have a surprise!”

Drawn under your bubbly letters, he finds two stick figures entangled in an outrageously lewd sex act. Tracing tender fingers over the very obviously male stick figure (you never were very subtle), he grins so hard his cheeks ache. Leaning on the counter, he sniffs the letter because he’s a sentimental sap and it smells like your Cherry-Almond lotion, and drops his head in his arms.

“So tired,” he whines softly, voice muffled against sleek granite.

Three weeks. That was the last mission. Three weeks, even though Steve guaranteed Bucky three days max. Of course, two days into the mission Bucky remembered that Steve Rogers is an accomplished liar, so instead he spent three exhausting weeks dodging bullets, rewashing all his underwear, and hysterically rationing his bag of fun size candy bars.

Finally home, he wants to forget everything and sink into the post-mission domesticity he dreams about when he’s stuck in some dank motel on the corner of Fuck This and No One Cares. The routine is simple. A scalding hot shower, burrito wrapping himself in the feather duvet, making out with you for a few hours, taking a break to eat some pizza, and then fucking you so hard he breaks the brand new headboard he made for you last month (actually the third headboard he’s made...a fact he smugly reports to anyone and everyone).

And after all that fun, he wants to sleep. Maybe two full days. Or five. Tops.

Is that asking too much?

“No,” he sighs out loud. “It’s not.”

Carefully folding the cartoon and your sweet message, he kisses the paper and tucks it in his back pocket.

No way he’s falling asleep before he sees you. Nope. Nada. Negative. Totally not happening.

Pepping himself up, he goes to work, whizzing through his homecoming task list.

Blood-stained tac clothes go in the washer with three cups of bleach. Guns and knives are wiped down and polished. The contents of the dirty green canvas bag are unceremoniously trashed. The spider infested porch light is changed (with only three furry sightings). The shower is set to a blistering temp and he hangs out in there for an hour, soaping his hair into a foamy mohawk, belting out a few showtunes with his shampoo bottle microphone.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, he flops on the bed with his Starkpad and opens up Netflix, searching for something to keep him awake. Several scrolls later, he finds Brooklyn 99 and settles in for a laugh.

Confident in his ability to resist the appealing pull of sleep scratching at his brain, he takes a slurp of the Super Double Big Gulp sized coffee on his nightstand and stretches his eyes wide open.

Staying awake. Piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, Bucky’s fast asleep.

*****

When his eyes pop open, the room is dark. He feels tipsy, sleep drunk on his first uninterrupted hours of rest in weeks.

Beside him, he feels the cozy pressure of another body. Glancing down, he finds you curled under the sheets at his side, your face smushed against his arm, steady breaths fogging the gleaming metal.

Asleep.

Bucky grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut. One thing. You asked him to do one thing.

God. Dammit.

Furious with his lame old man ass, he almost wakes you up. Almost. But then he swallows that desire and thinks.

Before he got married, Bucky read every relationship advice book under the sun. He gets the importance of keeping the romance alive. He knows you need to cherish your person, make them a priority, shower them with love. He knows. He gets it. He watches Oprah, for fuck’s sake. Relationships take work.

But lately? This is life.

With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side.

Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Although, he muses, eyes lingering on the innocent curve of your mouth, the chaos has forced both of you to get more…creative.

He grins.

It was you who instigated it the first time. He was lying in a dingy motel bed when you nervously offered.

--

“Hey, um…do think maybe you’d…like…would you…uh…”

“Spit it out babe.”

“Doyouwannatryphonesex?”

--

An anxious slur so fast, he nearly misses the question. He remembers that beat of hesitation, before you dove in headfirst, telling him in obscenely explicit detail exactly what you wanted to do to him. He was so shocked he dropped the phone and had to naked crawl under the grimy mattress to fish it out.

He must’ve jerked off five times that night. Replaying your filthy words. Remembering the quiet whimpers as you came on your fingers, gasping out his name. What a treat.

Sexting soon followed, accompanied by a plethora of nudes. None from you of course, because as you always remind him, you’re a lady, but Bucky? He gets irrational joy from sending them. They come in a variety of close-ups and poses, several which Sam accidentally discovered when he walked in on Bucky prancing around naked, searching for his best angle.

Sam always knocks now.

But sometimes words and pictures aren’t enough. Sometimes you need the soothing weight of someone in your arms. The scent of sweaty skin beneath your nose. Hot breaths of pleasure in your ear and the touch of a cool tongue licking across a heated body.

Sometimes he just needs you.

Could he wake you up? Sure. He knows you wouldn’t mind, you’ve told him a thousand times. But he also knows how tired you’ve been, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake, selfishly stealing those bits of recovery you need.

So instead, he searches for something to keep him occupied.

He tries reading Game of Thrones again and gets nowhere. Thinks yet again someone needs to get George R.R. Martin an editor.

He flicks on his phone and covertly watches PornHub on mute. Seriously debates whether he can get away with jerking off while you’re sleeping because hey, Bucky Barnes is nothing if not stealthy.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries to see how long he can hold his breath. He gets 2 minutes and 8 seconds (a new record) before giving up.

In the end, he rolls onto his side stares intently at you. Wills you to wake up on your own. Come on baby, please.

But nothing works, and when sleep still doesn’t come, he decides to be productive. Crawling carefully from the bed, he smothers a laugh when you curl instantly into the warm mattress dip of his body, burrowing further under the blankets and unconsciously stealing his pillow. Most mornings Bucky wakes up hanging off the bed, no blankets or pillows to his name, while you’re swathed in comfort, cold toes shoved beneath his belly.

Maybe he should be annoyed. Except every time he looks at you, he forgets how to scowl.

Love is weird.

Rummaging silently through the closet, he unearths a threadbare pair of jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, slips into his worn leather boots. He drops a light kiss on your forehead, brushing a finger down the curve of your neck. Smiles to himself when you snuffle a quiet snore.

And he heads out the backdoor, down the weatherworn brick to the garage out back.

It was an added bonus when he bought the house. An unanticipated domestic perk. Hell, he never thought he’d find someone would actually date him, let alone someone who wanted to marry him and buy a house with him and accept his penchant for hoarding things in a rickety old garage (come on, I grew up in the Depression and I need this, he whines every time you take him to Target).  

Thank god you said yes. He’s the luckiest jerk in the world.

Flicking on the garage light, Bucky still gets a little thrill. The entire place is an homage to eclectic, random artifacts, from the box of ugly 1970s vases he found at a flea market, to the fishing equipment he insisted on buying and has yet to use, to the sack of broken seashells you drunkenly collected on your honeymoon in Costa Rica.

In the midst of the swirl sits his pride and joy. Cherry red paint, black leather seats, a tad dusty, full of potential.

The 1969 Camaro looks like a teenage wet dream.

He remembers the day he brought it home, that surge of macho pride when your eyes lit up. After you slapped his ass and told him how sexy the car was, he reveled in your admiration for maybe 10 seconds, before hauling you back to the house and under the sheets. Took several hours before you both came up for air.

That was a good time, he thinks dreamily.

The car attracted his friends as well. Sam and Steve brought over a celebratory case of beer and stood by while Bucky explained the changes he had planned. Steve gave a few sage nods, while Sam helpfully threw out words like fuel injector now and then. Neither had a fucking clue what was happening, but Bucky graciously let them fake it.

Tony also saw the car once. Got a fervent gleam in his eye and started to say the phrase jet fuel, before Bucky ushered him out the door. Tony doesn’t get to see the car anymore.

There are still plenty of fixes to make, but for tonight he takes it easy. Flips on the ancient radio perched above the workbench and flops down on a rolling seat, sliding under the Camaro to tinker around. He goes to work, lets the crackle of the radio and the mechanical puzzle lull him into focus mode.  

So intent on the task at hand, he barely hears the garage door opening.

The click of a shoe alerts him too late and he freezes, gripping his wrench tight. Muscles tense, garage floor plans and fight scenarios flooding his brain.

“Bucky? Do you have a sec?”

His breath whooshes in relief at your voice. A silly grin bubbles up because you’re finally awake, until he tilts his head sideways, peering out from under the car to see your feet.

Black high heels.

Stomach sinking, Bucky closes his eyes. Back to work then. Motherfucker. He missed his chance again.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, he croaks out a plea.

“Hey babe, do you gotta go back to the office so soon? Can you just - “

Click click and you step between his legs. Firm hands clutch the oil stained fabric at his knees and you pull. The seat rolls easily and he slides free, squinting up at you in the dim light.

The words die on his lips.

Black high heels, yes.

And.

Lacy black underwear, the sides held together with thick satin ribbons. A lacy black bra, your breasts threatening to spill out.

Gorgeous, devilish smile.

Fingering the wide satin bow between your breasts, you tease a light tug and Bucky starts sweating like a virgin on prom night. His wrench slips from numb fingers, thunking him in the nuts and clattering away.

“Shit,” he grunts. There’s a moment of confusion on whether the fresh ache in his balls is from the punch of the wrench, or tantalizing swathes of skin before him, but then you say his name and he figures it out pretty fucking fast.

“Hey Bucky Bear,” you purr, in that raspy voice he loves. “Still want that surprise I promised?”

Palming himself roughly, Bucky adjusts the suddenly tight front of his jeans, eyeing you with a lusty smile. Fuck yes, he wants his surprise. He wants everything about you.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“I have some ideas,” you say playfully. Stepping closer, slipping your fingers into his silky hair, he leans into the touch. “And I promise we’ll get to them. But first, how about you stay down there and maybe show me how much you missed me?”

Torn, Bucky looks down at his oil stained fingers. They spasm, clutching the edge of the seat so tight the metal bends. His voice drops several octaves.

“Babe, I - shit, I’m gonna kill the mood here, but my hands are all dirty, I should wash ‘em first,” he apologizes. Rolling your eyes, you shift closer until the edge of his nose is a mere inch from the delicate lace panties.

“I’m not asking for your hands, soldier. You have a mouth. Get creative.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. Sassy and domineering? And nearly naked?

Hell yes, his dick shouts. Here we fucking go.

Warm and cool, tentative fingertips press into the smooth skin behind your knees, stroking higher until he’s plucking the satin ribbons and pulling. It feels like Christmas morning when the knot slowly breaks apart, whispers of satin and lace floating to the ground.

Nosing against your core, he inhales, long and deep. A low growl rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips tight and heat explodes across your skin when his tongue presses into your folds, licking over your clit.

“God,” your moan is dark, desperately breathless, “keep - that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, please, been way too long.”

Bucky gives a fervent nod of agreement, strands of his dark hair tickling your thighs. When was the last time he did this? Nah, you know what? If he has to ask, it’s been too long.

From now on, the only correct answer should be every damn day.

He feels you moving his head, guiding him exactly where you need him most, and he hums hungrily. Shoves his tongue deeper. He adores when you take charge, using him, his mouth or his fingers or his dick, to get yourself off. He loves it, dreams about it, wishes you would let him film it just one time (because sometimes missions last three weeks not three days Steve).

But until then, he devotes himself to making it perfect because you deserve perfect.

Fast, firm flicks of the tongue. Long, leisurely strokes, licking you slow and sweet. Rough pressure, his plush pink lips sucking tight around your clit. So good.

Your eyes fall closed as his tongue moves faster, quicker, pushing you closer closer closer -  

No, that won’t do. Cold metal lightly pinches your ass, a bid for attention. Chest heaving, you open your eyes.

Bright eyed and eager, Bucky gazes up from between your legs, looking thoroughly debauched. White t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, dark hair mussed in your fingers, an obvious erection straining his jeans.

So close, you’re so close, right on the edge, just another second -

He knows, of course. Could always play you like a fiddle. He cocks a challenging eyebrow, sucks your clit between his teeth -

“Oh god, Bucky, fuck,” you moan. Weak knees buckle and his hands clutch your ass, keeping you upright and open. He never stops licking, swirling that talented tongue to draw out the bursts and shocks of pleasure until you’re gasping. When he’s wrung every drop from you, he kisses the sensitive bud and tips his head back with an arrogant smirk.

Legs like jelly, you promptly collapse into his lap.

The momentum of the fall sends the rolling seat flying. Busy being chivalrous and keeping you from tumbling headfirst onto dirty concrete, Bucky lets the wheels send him whizzing backward. His head smacks the door handle with a sharp thwack.

“Ow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” you pant. Struggling for breath, wrapped in the haze of post orgasm bliss, you cuddle against him, soaking up his warmth. “Want me to rub it?”

Massaging his head, he wrinkles his nose. “Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering to rub.”

“Dealer’s choice,” you sass, and Bucky barks out a laugh. Wandering hands skim lightly over your shoulders, fingering the straps of the lacy bra, feather light trails along your collarbone, to the satin bow between your breaks. Tugging impatiently, he smiles when it unwinds, your breasts spilling free.

“Well, how about I take my pants off, we get in the backseat of this car, and you rub whatever you find.”

“Intriguing. What happens after I finish rubbing whatever…pokes my fancy?”

Bucky dips his head, takes your nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The feel of his wet mouth has you squirming closer until he pauses to offer an option.

“Maybe we fuck like a couple horny teenagers?”

“You’re killing me with the romance here, Barnes,” you say drily and he chuckles. “But I was maybe thinking something different.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Licking a lazy strip between your breasts, he kisses up, up, up, until his tongue finds the hammering pulse of your heartbeat. Bemused, he hears your voice falter, before bravely offering your idea.

“I was thinking maybe I sit on the hood of your pretty red car, and – and you spread my legs and fuck me so good, I can’t walk for a week.”

Startled, Bucky pulls back. Excitement explodes in his chest.

“You - really? Seriously? That’s what you want?”

“Yep,” you confirm, palpable relief at successfully executing the dirty request. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Bucky plants a sloppy kiss on the tip of your nose. Wiggles his eyebrows and winks.

“Well god damn. You got it sweet cheeks.”

Wasting no time, he pushes off the ground and you kick your heels off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He huffs out a blissful moan when you suck a string of hickeys down his neck, grinding against you as he stumbles to the front of the car. Without thinking, he drops you on the shiny red hood and -

“Cold!”

Icy metal meets your bare ass. There’s a panicked scramble back into his arms and he manages to catch you, until your flailing upper cut cracks his jaw. It sends him off balance, tripping forward to smack his kneecaps on the Camaro’s fancy new grill. A grating screech tears the air and the grill rattles to the floor, the metallic clang bouncing off the walls.

Flinching, you peer up at him as it fades away.

Bucky’s nose twitches.

In all his fantasies (and there are many, because you are one sexy piece of ass), this shit never happens. Every sexcapade is effortlessly smooth, sensual and steamy, where you both look great, not a hair out of place, no oil-stained hands or unintended destruction of expensive vintage cars.

In reality, it seems like something always goes sideways. One of his nipples gets gouged by your fingernail or the silk from your negligee gets caught in the plates of his arm, or one of his perfectly aimed thrusts sends you both toppling off the bed. Sometimes he wonders if this is just the two of you? Do other people have perfectly orchestrated sex lives? Is porn not a true mirror of real life?

Is porn a lie?

Maybe he should watch more porn and form a more educated opinion.

For now, he takes in your crestfallen expression, vehemently shaking his head when you try to apologize.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I -“

Holding up a stern hand, he stops you cold. Sets you on your feet, gallantly whipping off his shirt, and spreading it on the shiny red paint. This time when he sets you on the hood, you lay back until the familiar scent of his cologne hugs you close. Bucky lifts your feet, propping each on the hood, spreading your legs open. He leans in close, a pink flush spreading over his chest, crawling up his throat, blue eyes turning dark.  

“Listen to me. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You’re worth more than this old junker.” A crooked smile tilts his mouth, his voice as soft as the lips now brushing yours. “You’re priceless. You understand?”

“Okay,” you murmur. Fingers dance lightly up the hard planes of his stomach, wrapping around the chain of his old dog tags. “I understand.”  

Bucky nods, watching your eyes drift down, drinking him up. He lives for that look. Sets him on fire, to watch you ogle him. When your eyes skate down his right side, he flexes his forearm a bit, because he knows it turns you on.   

A swift tug of the chain and he dips easily, mouth slanting over yours. There’s a faint sound of teeth clacking together, and he stifles a laugh at your excitement. Deep kisses, stoking that simmering fire sitting right below the surface. Your lips part and he slides inside, curling his tongue around yours, pulling away to lick along the corner of your mouth, to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

The thought appears, same as when he had his mouth between your legs. How long has it been since the two of you just made out like this? Same answer? Too fucking long?

This is definitely happening more often.  

He feels your eager fingers reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open, slipping your hand inside. Cool fingers wrap tight around his cock, the other hand wandering down to squeeze a handful of his ass. Bucky hurriedly shimmies his pants to his knees, sets both hands on the car and leans forward, tipping his face down, touching his forehead to yours. Blue eyes flutter closed, breath hitching while he concentrates on the feel of your capable hands, slow strokes along his length, slicker with each tug.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he grits out. “Can you - damn that’s good - can you, there, bit lower -“

Ragged pants melt into a low groan when you slip your hand from the death grip on his ass to cup his balls, rolling them against your palm.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes, fuck yes, just like that,” he hisses, thrusting into your hands. “Can you - can you pull just a little-“

He stammers the question, ignoring your amused hum. It was a quirk, one he discovered early in the relationship. It came out of the blue, a bashful request during a romp in the sheets, but for some reason, Bucky has a thing for having his balls tugged. Not hard (which was also discovered after an unconsciously rough yank had him squealing in pain), but more of a soft squeeze, followed by a slow pull.

Like how you squeeze an overripe banana, he had explained later, gingerly massaging his balls. Not so hard it squishes.

Many entertaining attempts later, and he swears you have the move patented. Stroking his dick faster, your thumb presses over his balls, before a careful pull. Tipping his head back, Bucky stares glass eyed at the ceiling, lost in pleasure, pushing himself into your firm grip.  

“Feel good?” you murmur.

“Yeah. Yes, so good, so god damn good ,” he chokes out. Faster, harder, faster - and then a strangled gasp and panicked blue eyes catch yours. “Wait, too good, it’s too good! Don’t wanna come yet, hang on! Need to be inside you first.”

He grabs your wrists, the thwarted sting of a denied orgasm obvious in the grind of his teeth. Both of you look down to where your hands are wrapped around him, one still kneading his balls, the other curled around the velvety hot skin of his cock.

“Okay,” you say, looking him up and down. “Fine, but - you’re so sexy, Bucky. And I love your balls.”

Bucky nods furiously, gulping a deep lungful of air. His ass cheeks are twitching.

“I love that you love them, I really do. But babe, I need you to let go of my balls or I’ll come all over your hand,” he rasps, wiggling away. Releasing him, your hands run up his chest, twining around his neck, dragging his sweat damp chest flush against you.

“If I must,” you agree, smiling into his lips. Bucky relaxes into you, the slow melt of tongues follows, the kind where a kiss bounces around, until it finds the perfect rhythm. His hands trace up the line of your arms, unlocking your fingers and pulling them free. Brushing his thumbs over your wrists, he bends close, kisses your knuckles.

And then he folds your arms above your head, pinning them down.  

“Keep them there, alright? Don’t move until I say you can.”

“Kinky. Yes sir,” you breathe. He smirks.

“You’d better watch it, you little deviant. I might get used to that.”

“Sorry…sir.”

Pulling you further down the hood, he rubs his cock between your legs, sliding himself between your folds until a slick sheen coats his skin. It startles a grunt from you when he abruptly shoves inside, sinking deep until his hips press flush to yours.  

He waits. Has to wait actually, because its been a long damn time and if he’s not careful he’s going to embarrass himself before he even gets started and holy shit, is this even real life? Is he dreaming?

Splayed out on the hood of his car, legs wide open, breasts wet from his tongue, black lace and crumpled satin ribbons. Arms pinned above the luscious skin bared just for him. Bucky stares between your legs, dry mouthed and dizzy.

“Come on, Bucky, please? Fuck me, please fuck me, I missed you so much.”

How could he ever resist this? You naked, writhing against the vivid red of his Camaro, moaning for him to fuck you, with his cock buried in your -

“Aw fucking hell,” he mutters. After so many weeks apart, he knows full well this won’t last long. It’s a damn good thing he has more than a few rounds in him.

Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders back, he digs thick fingers into your thighs, pulls back nice and slow. He waits. Waits. Waits a bit longer because he likes to be an asshole and hear you beg.

“Bucky, come on -”

And he plunges into you, burying himself in the tight, silky heat of your cunt. Warm up over, no slow start. The pace he sets is rough, so deep he feels the pleasure licking down his spine and into his toes. Over and over, he slams into you until one particularly sharp thrust presses the tip of his cock against that perfect spot inside and you arch up with a broken cry. Hands scrabble above your heard, searching for anything to hold onto, finding something flexible.

With a plastic snap, the windshield wiper blade breaks off in your hand.

Bucky stutters to a halt, blinking sweat from his eyes when he sees the look of horror on your face. The apology is still forming when he snatches the plastic from your fingers, throwing it aside.

“Don’t care,” he grunts. Giving you no time to argue, he wraps his hands behind your knees and raises your hips, fucking into you faster. The filthy echo of sweat slick skin accompanies his breathless order. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.”

A frantic agreement and one hand slips between your legs, the other cupping your breast. Frantic circles over the swollen bud, trembling fingers plucking at a pebbled nipple. Bucky watches greedily, eyes flickering back and forth, memorizing those things that bring you pleasure, fantastically dirty memories to replay on a rainy day.

“Bucky,” desperate fingers rub your clit faster. “Keep going, please keep - keep doing that, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m -“

Sharp and sweet and unexpected, the orgasm crashes into you. Arching up, the low moan tears free, and Bucky slows, hypnotized by the sight of you shuddering beneath him.

“There you go, that’s it,” he urges hoarsely, before surging forward and capturing your lips in a wild kiss. Two more pumps of his hips and he stops, grinding against you until he comes with a heavy groan.

Silence fills the room, broken only with the sounds of harsh breaths and the wet rush of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rests his forehead between your breasts, listening to the staccato beat of your quick breaths, until you struggle up onto your elbows, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

“So I broke your car.”

He says nothing, but a moment later his shoulders begin to shake and suddenly he’s laughing, great rushing wheezes as he struggles for breath. Raising his head, he finds you nervously squinting down at him. He stretches up, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I got insurance. Just need to check my coverage for mildly destructive ‘I missed you’ sex.”

“You might consider expanding that policy. I’m just saying,” you suggest with a giggle and he snorts.

Quiet contentment blankets the stuffy garage, both of you basking in that tingly afterglow. Folding your hands behind his neck, you draw him close and Bucky nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Been tough lately,” he whispers, mouthing gently along your throat. “Trying to find time together.”

Nodding slowly, your smile turns wistful.

“Yeah…guess it makes any time we get even better. Right? It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Bucky feels a lump in his throat (the kind that could easily dissolve into manly super soldier tears), and he gathers you in his arms, tucking you against his chest. When he answers, his voice cracks just a bit.

“Someone’s a sentimental sap.”

He hears your muffled laugh against his chest, feels you bite at his collarbone and he chuckles.

“I love you Bucky. And I’m really sorry I murdered your car.”

“I love you too, babe. I’m glad you came down here. Especially in that outfit.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Fuck yes I did. What spurred that idea, hmm?”

“I just don’t want to lose our spark,” you admit, snuggling closer. “When things get so busy, it’s easy to let things like this slide, and I don’t want you to - get bored, I guess. With us.”

Bucky thinks about all his relationship advice articles and the fact that he sometimes even prints them out and goes through with a yellow highlighter to capture the key points. Hearing your soft concern makes him fall even more in love with you.

Because this is important. This relationship, this love, this spark he was lucky enough to find with you, it’s the most important thing in his world. You are the most important thing in his world.

Brushing a knuckle down your cheek, he coaxes your chin up.

“I know it’s tough, always being on different schedules, but I want you to know, I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna want you. Nothing changes that. And if you ever doubt just how much I genuinely want to bang you all night long, then you say something. Deal?”

He boops your nose and you grin.

“Deal.”

“And honey, not that I’m complaining, trust me, but you don’t need to dress sexy to get me all reved up,” he shrugs. “You do that just by looking at me.”

“You do know how to charm the pants off a lady, Barnes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Swings you up in his arms and calms your startled yelp with a kiss.

“Damn straight. Now how about we give that backseat a try. I think you mentioned wanting to rub something back there?”

*****

[sorrelchestnut]

EVERYBODY’S PICKIN’ UP ON THAT FELINE BEAT, PART 37

holy shit I finished a scene.  We’re really close to the end now, y’all.  That being said: this definitely ends on a cliffhanger.  Fair warning.

Part 1.  Part 2.  Part 3.  Part 4.  Part 5.  Part 6.  Part 7.  Part 8.  Part 9.  Part 10.  Part 11. Part 12.  Part 13.  Part 14.  Part 15.  Part 16.  Part 17.  Part 18.  Part 19. Part 20.  Part 21.  Part 22. Part 23. Part 24. Part 25. Part 26.  Part 27. Part 28. Part 29. Part 30. Part 31. Part 32. Part 33.  Part 34. Part 35. Part 36.

Title: everybody’s picking up on that feline beat Author: Sorrel Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: None Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor Series: Part 3 of everybody wants to be a cat

Coffee helps; fresh air and sunshine helps more.  For someone who spends a significant majority of her life inside, underground, nocturnal, and/or just generally skulking around in the shadows, Whisper can be surprisingly solar-powered at times.  By the time they're over the river she's in almost obnoxiously high spirits, singing "Anything Goes" in a squeaky falsetto that makes him think longingly of the roll of duct tape in his pack.

"The world has gone mad today, and good's bad today, and black's white today, and day's night today-"

"Whisper, I swear to God-"

"And that gent today you gave a cent today once had sev-er-al chateaus!"

"Alright, Cole Porter, that's enough."  She grins wider and opens her mouth, and he hastily slaps a hand over it before she can start the next verse.  "No."

Her lips tickle against his palm as she grumbles, "You're no fun."

"What, because I like living?  You're going to bring down every raider in the greater Boston area, the way you're caterwaul- ow!  Fuck!"

She tucks her thumbs in the straps of her pack and gives him a cheerful, empty-headed smile, showing off the pearly white teeth she just sunk into the base of his thumb.  "Talk shit, get hit."

"Jesus, you're aggressive."  He studies his hand but doesn't find any sign of bleeding, just a neat row of stark white tooth marks rapidly flushing back pink.  "Whatever happened to licking my hand to gross me out?"

"Sometimes I can really tell you were an only child," she informs him, shaking her head faux-mournfully.  "You gotta go big or go home, that's my motto."

"Good thing we're going home, isn't it?"  When she squints at him, he smiles sunnily and holds his injured hand a couple inches above her head.  "I mean, 'big' isn't exactly your strong suit, so..."

She launches herself at him with a war cry.

Bickering aside, they straighten up when they come into sight of Diamond City, falling into character as a pair of road-weary mercenaries coming off an all-night hike and desperate for a shower and some sleep.  (Which, to be fair, isn't that far off from the truth, all things considered.)  They're both in costume already, not that that took long.  All Whisper had to do was slick back her hair and throw on a pair of sunglasses and hey presto: Olivia Bailey, ruins-rover extraordinaire.  Next to her all Deacon has to do is look suitably grizzled and road-weary, so he pretty much just tossed the least-disgusting raider's jacket on over his travel clothes and smeared some dust artistically through his stubble and called it a goddamn day.

It certainly works well enough on the second-shift gate guard, a pockmarked woman with nicotine stains on her fingers.  She waves them through with a disinterested nod, already going back to her book before they even clear the gate.  Deacon squashes down the contrary impulse to make some kind of scene and just nods back, professional and cool, as he wraps an arm around Whisper's shoulder.  She gives him a little sideways look that says I know what you're doing but doesn't bother to pull away until they're in the tunnel.

Deacon looks around and then back to her, pointedly.  Whisper huffs a laugh.

"What now?"

"Nothing," he says, and waggles his eyebrows.  "It's just… here we are again.  Where it all started.  Back to the site of our fateful first meeting."

Her eyes narrow.  "Weren't you the one who said-"

"Mm, yeah, but I've had time to think about it, and I think you made a compelling point.  First contact is definitely the first one that counts."

"You just don't want to 'fess up on just how long you were following me around."

"Why, partner, I'm hurt that you would think of such a thing," he says, and moves swiftly on before she can call him on the obvious evasion.  "You know, you keep bringing me back here, I'm going to start thinking you've got a secret romantic streak."  She gives him a look.  "Very secret."

"That's me, all hearts and flowers," says quite the most ruthlessly practical woman Deacon's ever met.  "Besides, if I was going to start up with romantical remembrances at this late date, that wouldn't be the one I'd pick.  I was so sleep-deprived I'm lucky I remembered my own name."

"Couldn't tell to look at you," Deacon says, in massive understatement.  She was all easy swagger and magazine-cover grin, on her way to bigger and better things.  She sure as shit didn't look like she was running on the ragged edge of her endurance - but then, he knows better than most just how well she can lie with a smile.

She glances over at him as they break out of the tunnel, her gaze shrewd over the rim of her shades.  "You remember it pretty well, huh?"

Nope, nuh-uh, not going there.  "Your hair was longer," Deacon says, tweaking the end of one of her curls in a transparent bid for distraction.  "I remember that for sure."

"Well, yeah," she says, ducking neatly around a kid that seems really intent on wherever she's running.  "You told me to cut it."

"I did?"  He definitely doesn't remember that.  "When?"

"When we were prepping for the Covenant op.  You said blonde, I said I had to grab some bleach, and you gave me that 'oh honey' look you do when people are being particularly stupid and told me to just cut it off, you had a spare wig lying around someplace."

That does sound like him.  "And you just did it?" he says, because Whisper is a lot of things, but 'obedient' sure as shit isn't one of them.

"You were brandishing a knife when you said it," she admits.  "It seemed easier to give in than argue."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like him.  Especially then: that must've been, what, their first week together?  Back then everything was one long haze of exhaustion, staggering from one crisis to the next with barely enough time to take a shit.  Hauling her into the Covenant op was a desperation play, pure and simple: he needed backup, and anyone had to be better than Glory.  He hadn't known, then, what she could do with nothing more than a smile and a little room to work.

Though he figured it out pretty damn quick.

"I'd say it worked out," he says, and tweaks her dark hair again.  "You do make a fetching blonde."

She gives him a look over the tops of her shades, knowing and a bit amused.  "They do have more fun."

Aaaand now he's thinking about their first time, that silver dress pushed up around her thighs, blonde wig spilling across the mattress above her and blue eyes begging him in the dark.  He clears his throat.  "You want to go talk to Valentine?"

"In a bit," she says, and wraps her arm around his waist.  He automatically puts his arm around her in turn, and she leans her head on his shoulder, a picture-perfect image of a lovesick spouse.  "Need to make the rounds, hit up a few of the merchants first.  It'd be weird if I didn't."

"God forbid we look weird," he agrees, and laughs at her elbow in his stomach.

~*~

She does break off eventually, slips away to discuss things with Valentine and leaves him with a key and strict instructions to take care of dinner.  Deacon makes a quick loop of his own, touching base with the runners they placed last time and offloading some of their scav while he's at it.  Myrna's girl has been promoted to working the afternoon shift solo, and is more than happy to take a few extra minutes dickering in order to fill him in on the local gossip.  He rounds it off with a visit to the Dugout where the cocky one is still serving drinks - Deacon makes a note to collect the ten caps from Whisper later - and picks up some dinner to go on his way out.  Never let it be said he can't follow orders when it suits him.

He's setting out the plates when Whisper follows him in just a few minutes later with a slammed door and a cheerful, "Hallo the house!" from the far end of her little warehouse.

"Kitchen!" he calls back, and a moment later she appears, weaving her way through the stacked boxes and dropping a noticeably emptier pack on the floor by the stove.

"Need a hand?"

The food's pretty much done, so he tilts his head to the table with a hopeful, "Something to drink?"

"I've got just the thing," and she grabs her pack again, fishing around inside until she comes up with a couple bottles of Bobrov's homebrew.  "I tried to catch you at the Dugout but Vadim said you just left.  Good enough?"

"We-ell, everyone knows a dry white pairs best with seafood, but for day-old mirelurk I suppose it will just have to do."

"You're trying to ruin my appetite but it's not working," she informs him, nose in the air.  "I'm so hungry I'd eat a mirelurk raw."

He laughs and nudges in behind her as she turns to grab a bottle opener.  "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that.  You know it's only the best for my girl."

"Flatterer," she says, nothing in her voice now but laughter.  "You talk any sweeter, I'm gonna be forced to check those lips for honey."

"Aw, babe.  You say the - ha ha - sweetest things."  He buries his nose in the back of her neck and inhales.  "I get the cigarettes, but why do you smell like one of Tom's experiments?  Hot metal and burnt wiring," he clarifies, when she gives him a truly weird look.

"Oh, I stopped by Piper's after I talked to Nick," she says, all offhand as if she's not talking about the biggest gossip in the Commonwealth.

Deacon unpeels himself from her back and takes her by the shoulders.  "Whisper," he says, seriously.  "Do we need to have a conversation about operational security?  Because I feel like you may have been out that day."

"Oh, so you want her to come by and harangue me in person?  Because that is one hundred percent what she'd do if she heard I was in town and didn't go see her first."

Okay, so maybe she has a point.  The thought of Piper fucking Wright showing up at his door - well, Whisper's door, whatever - demanding to know his intentions toward her friend… Yeah, no.  That's gonna be a haaaard pass.

Whisper grins at him, the devil in her eyes.  He knows that look.  "Whisper-"

"Ohhhh, I see what this is about."

"Fear," he assures her, trying to head whatever this is off at the pass, "this is a very healthy and reasonable level of fear," but she's on her way to a punchline and won't be deterred.

"You're a fan!" she declares, over his groan of protest.  "Aww, sweetheart, why didn't you say something earlier?  I could totally arrange an introduction for you."

"Ahhh, no thanks," Deacon manages, through the bolt of terror that thought inspires.  "Little-known fact, spies are in fact allergic to reporters?  Like, clinically.  The hives are brutal."

She takes pity on him and gives way with a laugh, her eyes crinkling up at the corners.  "Don't worry, babe, I'll protect you."

"You're the best."

"And don't you forget it."  She pops open one of the bottles one-handed, handing it off to him with a cheery flourish.  "Besides, you don't wanna bitch too much about my girl Piper.  Her caps bought you this booze."

"I take it back, she's my new favorite person.  After your radiant self, of course."  He takes a swig and passes it back, enjoying the flush of boozy heat down through his chest as he turns back to the stove.  After a moment's consideration, he adds a couple extra tatos to the pan.  If they're drinking Bobrov's then he definitely wants to lay down a hearty base.  "Something interesting afoot?"

"Mhm?"

"Your payout from Wright.  Anything I should know about?"

She wobbles her flat hand side-to-side, a wordless eh.  "Not really.  Just a side project I've been working on."

Interesting.  It's not as if they tell each other everything they get up to - he certainly has any number of moving parts at any given moment she's not read in on, and this business with Hancock gave him a good idea about how much he doesn't know about her adventures - but the fun stuff, yeah, that's usually share and share alike.  Then again, maybe it's a leftover from her little enforced vacation back in August.  He's mostly kept his nose out of whatever she was up to those weeks in hopes she'll do him the same courtesy, so there's a gap in his intel.

"Very mysterious," he teases, nudging a little.  "C'mon, not even a hint for your faithful partner?"

She refuses to be nudged, only smiles faintly and hunches one shoulder into a lopsided shrug.  "You can read it in the paper tomorrow like everyone else."

"Way harsh."

"That's me, cruel and unusual."  She passes him back a plate with an absent kiss to his scruffy cheek.  "C'mon, quit fondling that pot holder and get me some supper.  I'm starving."

~*~

It's a good night, maybe the best he's had in a while.  Deacon sort of figured she'd be distracted, mind on her mission tomorrow, but instead it's the opposite: for the first time in what seems like weeks, he has her full and undivided attention, and he basks in it like winter sunshine.  They trade stories and quips, mostly things they've told each other a dozen times over but still fresh, still funny, still so much fun to watch her trying out a new spin, a new angle.  She's so fucking good at that, always has been.  Yet another thing Deacon never needed to teach her, but damn does he never get tired of watching her reinvent herself on the fly.

Deacon, for his part, finds himself mugging shamelessly for her attention, chasing her approval as fervently as any junkie he's ever pretended to be.  And unlike a junkie Deacon gets what he's craving in spades, because she's as generous with her smiles as she is with her stories, lounging back in her chair with her glass in her hand, thighs sprawled wide and her voice gone syrup-slow with that insinuating smirk that only ever spurs him on.

Later, he doesn't entirely remember how they end up in bed.  The booze turns everything smeary and soft-focus, like light coming in through a stained-glass window, and his memory preserves only a series of snapshots: pulling Whisper into his lap, her startled yelp of laughter muffled with his mouth.  Making out on the landing, one foot braced a step down to put him closer to her height, his fingers busy on her shirt buttons and hers on his belt buckle.  Tumbling into bed in a snarl of limbs, laughingly disentangling them until Whisper tugs him up over her in the dark.  Burying his face in the sweat-slicked curve of her neck as he works his cock inside of her, her blunt nails scoring lines down the length of his back and her heels digging into the backs of his thighs to urge him on.  The flicker of the candlelight playing across her lush mouth and her dark, shadowed eyes, her damp hair clinging to her forehead as she tosses her head back against the pillows.  The low breathy rasp of her voice, "Deacon," murmured against his ear, "Deacon, Deacon, please-"

And then when he wakes up, he's alone.

The radio downstairs is playing “The Wanderer,” and Deacon lies there for a moment, listening to the clatter of the rain against the windows, experiencing an overwhelming surge of deja vu.

Then he hauls himself out of bed, picks up his boots, and goes in search of his wayward accomplice.

Unlike last time, there's no pint-sized partner clattering around in the kitchen, cooking breakfast and dancing around like temptation on two legs.  The room is cool and dim, only the faint mid-morning sunshine straggling in through an upper window to light the way, and the only sign of habitation is the soft strains of the radio.  Deacon does a quick check in the warehouse section just in case - have the boxes been breeding back there? - but the only sign of life in here is him.  Most damningly of all, Whisper's pack is gone from the hook beside the door, leaving his looking lopsided next to the empty space where its partner used to be.

Do not project onto an inanimate object, Deacon my lad, he tells himself, and checks the counter next to the radio, where he previously saw a pad and a pencil half-buried under a precarious stack of ammo boxes.  Sure enough, there's a note there, torn loose from the pad and folded into thirds with John scrawled across the front in unfamiliar handwriting that must belong to Liv.

She's just keeping cover, not stupid enough to write anything else out here in the open where anyone could walk in and see it, but Deacon still stares at it for a long moment, that single syllable knocking around somewhere at the bottom of his ribs.  Then he shakes his head at himself, reaches out, and unfolds the note.

hey handsome, you looked so peaceful i couldn't bring myself to wake you.  at least one of us should get to sleep in, and nick had me up with the sun.  (you know what he's like when he's on a case!)  shouldn't take long though, just a quick run down to goodneighbor and fingers crossed we'll be back by supper.  take care of my best guy while i'm gone.  xoxo, liv

The radio changes to “One More Tomorrow,” and Deacon glares at it as he folds up the note.  Reading between the breezy, heavily fictionalized lines, it's clear enough she decided to handle this Kellogg business solo.  Which is… fair enough, he supposes, but something about it doesn't sit square.  Did she think he would have told her no, if she asked him to stay put?  He thought he made it pretty clear the whole thing was hers to handle or not as she saw fit.  Or maybe she just thought it'd be too awkward, having him up in her business like that?  Maybe after their last op, she's about had her fill of personal.  He couldn't blame her if that's the case, but he hopes she knows the last thing he'd ever want to do is make things harder for her.

Well, there's not much he can do about it either way, not with her at least a few hours ahead of him, judging by the sun, and definitely not with her clear instruction to sit tight.  Waiting isn't much his favorite part and he didn't really plan to be hanging out in Diamond City all day, but Deacon's an adaptable fellow; he'll find a way to keep himself occupied.

The market is bustling at this hour of the morning, and Deacon lets the crowd carry him along, thinking vaguely about picking up some noodles for breakfast and then maybe having a wander around.  It's not great for his cover to spend so much time out and about on his own, but with the right sidelong look most people will probably assume she's sleeping off a wild night, which would be great for his ego, at least.  Besides, there's really no substitute for market gossip when it comes to keeping a pulse on the goings-on in the Commonwealth, which is what he plans to tell Dez if she gives him shit for the wasted day.  Not that she will, because if Deacon has his way she'll never hear about any of this, but he likes having a contingency plan in place.  Makes him feel all nice and comfy.

It's when he's looping around the counter in search of an open stool that he catches the familiar sound of Piper Junior hawking her wares at full volume.  Which is funny, 'cause by his calculation they're not due for another issue for at least a week.  Normally Piper's pretty regular with the print, except-

Deacon gets a sinking sensation in his chest.

-except when she has something too juicy to wait and damn it, Whisper, what the hell are you up to?

Normally the last place he wants to be is anywhere near someone named Wright, but since his partner has been up to shenanigans without bothering to inform him first, he figures that in this case 'better safe than sorry' means getting out ahead of whatever nonsense Whisper's been cooking up rather than running the other way.  He makes sure to pull his cap low over his eyes, hitches his pack higher on his shoulders, and sidles over towards the Public Occurrences like he just doesn't have anything better to do.

"Extra, extra, read all about it!  Minutemen General has the tell-all of the century!"

Oh, it's Minutemen business.  Geez, why didn't she just say so?  If she's running some propaganda job for Garvey, the last thing he'd want to do is get in her way.  It was obvious they needed something after the trip to the Slog the other week, and throwing Piper at the problem is probably the most efficient way to get the word out.  Half the damn Commonwealth reads her paper at some point or another, even if it's just so they can tell themselves how wrong she is.

Still, Whisper did tell him he'd find out today, so she probably expects him to read up on whatever it is.  He snatches a paper off the top of the stack and flips it over, scanning for the headline.

Woman out of Time: Savior of the Minutemen Tells All About Life Before the Bomb!

"-not the current General," Little Wright's saying, when Deacon manages to stop staring at the paper and drag his attention back to the real world.  "The first one, the one that retook the Cast- hey!"

Deacon finds the paper snatched right from his hands, a pint-sized version of a familiar glare beaming up at him.  "You gotta pay before you read," Little Wright informs him.  "We're not running a charity here!"

"Uh, right," says Deacon, who still feels like he's hearing everything underwater, slow-motion and echoing strangely.  "What's the deal with this General, then?"

"Didn'tcha see the headline?  She's from before the War!  Vault froze her in cryo, right here in the Commonwealth!"

Vault 111.  Oh, fuck.   Ohhhh fuck.

"So you gonna buy or just stand there and stare?"  Little Wright brandished the paper at him.  "Hot off the presses!  Only ten caps, and you can be the first to know!"

[identybeautynet]

Shygirl Talks ‘BDE’ With Slowthai, Skincare, and Opulent Meals

Shygirl Talks ‘BDE’ With Slowthai, Skincare, and Opulent Meals Courtesy Burberry “Read my lips, I need a big dick boy. Ain’t nobody slanging it right,” the musician Shygirl raps on the opening lines of her new song “BDE,” featuring Slowthai. It’s a bold claim, and one that speaks to the East London native’s life mantra: freedom is everything. “If someone said to you, you can do whatever you want in this room, you’d do something that you wouldn’t usually do,” Shygirl says over Zoom, where she’s speaking from her home in South London. “It’s about being able to run away with some aspects of yourself, less about being something different, but in each of these spaces, you’re allowed a bit more room to breathe.” The artist, who makes bass-heavy, club-ready tracks that straddle electro, pop, and hip-hop, is known for fashion and beauty looks that match her out-there, over-the-top music. Her deepest fantasies and whimsies make both the aesthetic and the music—and fashion brands like Burberry have taken note. (The brand’s creative director Riccardo Tisci cast Shygirl in his latest Burberry Beauty campaign after stumbling across one of her music videos on Instagram.) We caught up with Shygirl a few days before the release of “BDE” to discuss her proclivity toward skincare, her grandmother’s beauty tips, and why eating an opulent meal is the ultimate form of luxury. How did you come to make your latest single “BDE” with Slowthai? I wrote this single ages ago with Karma Kid. We were in the studio and I’d actually been up the night before at some warehouse party. I was definitely really hungover—I think I was probably still drunk when I got to the studio, so I was still kind of in that party mood. The words came really quickly as I was recording, which isn’t always the case. Sometimes I think of a hook and then we flesh it out later, or there’s a funny turn of phrase I’m playing with, and I start like that. But this one was based on a frustrating encounter I’d had with someone. And I was like, I’m just going to get this out in a song. I really wanted to work with a male vocalist and I’ve loved Slowthai’s energy for ages. I’m objectifying men so much in that song, I thought it would be nice to hand the mic over and and be like, Okay, I’ve said this—what do you have to say for yourself? Ty’s the person for that platform, because he doesn’t talk about sex that much on his tracks. So it was nice to have that Shygirl effect. We met up in the studio, hung out, and I was like, okay, the theme is sex—spin it, and be as crass and vulgar as possible because that’s the way I've set the stage. Shygirl wears Burberry Beauty in her video for “BDE.” I love the fantasy of the Tasty video. What was on your mood board for it, specifically when it came to the beauty looks? Growing up, my mom was really into ‘80s music. And I loved that ‘80s look: heavy blush on the face, and how expressive that is, especially when looking at the queer community being represented in music. There’s something about that that which speaks to freedom and playfulness, and there’s a massive synergy with where I’m coming from, which is take me serious in this space, but also not that serious. There’s also something exciting about not being within the confines of my facial features, and pushing those boundaries. That’s why I bleached my eyebrows and change the space that we’re able to use with all the makeup we do. I sent a lot of references over, but I’m really drawn to color palettes; I have phases of different colors that make me feel comfortable and happy. I’ve been lucky to work with some really great makeup artists who take my garbled references and moods that I tell them and make it look sexy. Because there’s something sexy about not staying within the lines. Onto the Beauty Notes questions. When you wake up in the morning, what’s the first thing you do, beauty wise? First thing I do is wash my face, ‘cause I’m probably still wearing mascara from the night before. I use the Garnier Micellar water as a cleanser, and I bought because it’s pink. Then, I put on the Aliver 24K Gold Collagen Eye Mask eye patches. I bought a pack of, like, 100. They make me feel like a modern-day American Psycho. Then I use the Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion, because there’s something watery about their products, they just feel light on your skin. And my skin’s really sensitive, so I don't usually wear much. I have a rose quartz roller that I use after I’ve moisturized, which I find so relaxing. I’ve also got to mention that, when I wash my face, I wash it with warm and then cold water. Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion $30 See On Sephora What does that do? Something about opening up your pores with the warm water and then tightening them with cold water. My grandma told me that when I was younger—my dad’s mum gave me this obsession with clear skin from a young age. We’ve kind of got it naturally and she takes really good care of it, as does my dad. Usually, people pick up beauty tips from their mum, but my mum was a bit more tomboy-ish. What’s a piece of skincare advice that you received from your grandmother that changed your perspective on beauty? My grandmother comes up with a lot of un-PC phrases. One of the un-PC things she used to say was, never trust a man with bad skin. I remember when I’d tell her about boys I fancied and she’d be like, oh no, his skin’s terrible. Also, she uses oils on her body, but not on her face. She’s big on oils. I have naturally curly hair, so I went through such a period of using loads of different greasy hair products, and she told me that all affects your skin. Whenever I FaceTime my nan and my dad, that’s the first thing they ask: are you eating right? I can see on your skin, you’re not getting enough of this or that. What’s the one product that you can’t live without? The Charlotte Tilbury Magic Night Cream. It’s literally the best money I’ve ever spent on a beauty product. It just does what it says, and I don’t feel like I need to use it that religiously, but I need to know that I have it, especially when I’m traveling a lot. And even in lockdown, I’ve had a lot of travel for work. The air dries out my skin, and sometimes I need it before I wake up, just to start the day fresh. Charlotte Tilbury Magic Night Cream $145 See On Sephora What’s your favorite product at this very moment? I only really wear mascara for eye makeup every day, and at the moment I’ve been wearing this really good mascara that Burberry makes. I like a spiky, wider mascara, ‘cause if that’s the only thing I’m wearing, I’m going to make sure it’s visible. I’m not too neat with it—I like a slightly messy mascara look because there are hints there, where you’re telling people who you are. I want to be expressive. Ultimate Lift Mascara $30 Burberry See On Burberry What’s the best makeup or skincare tip you’ve picked up on set? Exfoliating my lips. That’s something I didn’t do enough of; sometimes when I’m on set, we use wipes with a somewhat rougher texture before we put anything on my lips.   What’s your ideal spa day and where? I found this place recently called Beaverbrook in Surrey, just outside of London. In December, I just needed to get out of my house, I needed a spa break, I needed a massage, I needed to be in a hotel, I just needed something. It’s kind of a big deal spa, which I didn’t know, but I got a room after someone else’s cancellation. It was really nice—it’s in the countryside and it was raining the whole weekend, so I felt like I was in Wuthering Heights. I looked out onto the fields watching the rain, and just felt so British. Is going to the spa your favorite form of self-care? I take more care of my mind than my body—what’s sometimes good for the soul isn’t always good for your body. I’m self-indulgent, and the biggest thing that feeds me is doing something spontaneously. The idea that I can just pick up and do something that I want to do is what gratifies me the most. That could be taking the day, canceling a bunch of meetings to remind myself that I’m in control of my life. More times, it’s going out to a restaurant and eating something obscene. You know in Parks and Recreation when they’re like, “Treat yourself”? That’s my life. I really love a beautiful meal, and there’s something so opulent about being waited on in some form and having someone else make your food. We only include products that have been independently selected by W's editorial team. However, we may receive a portion of sales if you purchase a product through a link in this article. beauty tips: Shygirl Talks ‘BDE’ With Slowthai, Skincare, and Opulent Meals, Shygirl Talks ‘BDE’ With Slowthai, Skincare, and Opulent Meals, Shygirl Talks ‘BDE’ With Slowthai, Skincare, and Opulent Meals,  Read the full article

[wreckofawriter]

Just Checking

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader

Word Count: 2,219

Warnings: None

Request: Hey! I just read some of your work and you're brilliant! Can I get a 2 and a 23 paired with Fred Weasley? You write him so wonderfully

2: "Hey... what's wrong with your face?"

23: "I cant belive I'm about to tell you this."

A/n: Holy shit this is late. I'm so sorry. I was with family all week and had no time to write. Anyway, I hope you guys like it!❤

You picked your head up from your book as you heard a whooping cheer come from the head of the room. You were greeted by the sight of identical redhead who bounced into the room with excitement. 

Your eyes instinctively rolled as you saw the older twin wink at you. 

"It's not going to work." A young Gryffindor girl named Hermione Granger said in a sing songy voice.

"Oh yeah?" George asked.

"And why's that Granger?" Fred finished.

"You see this?" She gestured toward the growing ring on the floor, "This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself." 

"So?" Fred asked.

Hermione and you both huffed in unison, they were incompetent.

"So, someone that brilliant won't be fooled by something as pathetically dim witted as an aging potion." She scoffed.

"Ah but that's why it's so brilliant." Fred chuckled.

"Because it's so pathetically dim witted." George finished.

"Are you truly that stupid Weasley?" You asked, raising both eyebrows at the boys.

"Probably." Fred shrugged. Before they both straightened up, shaking their bottles. "But if you're so sure it won't work y/l/n you wouldn't mind going on a date if it did." He teased.

"Sure." You shrugged so sure of Dumbledore's ability you would have bet your life on it.

"Alright then it's a deal." Fred winked again, you rolled your eyes again. "And no backing out when I win." 

"If you win." You corrected.

"Ready Fred?" They younger asked.

"Ready George." The older responded.

"Bottoms up!" They said in unison as they crossed their arms and downed their bottles.

Then together they lept from where they were standing into the age circle. To your horror, it allowed them in, you felt your heart begins to pick up speed as Fred smirked at you, cheers erupting from those around you.

"Proves nothing." You scoffed.

"But we got into the impossible age line." George pointed out.

"I'm thinking this weekend at hogsmeade," Fred joked as he danced around the goblet adding his name at the same time as his brother, "We could go to the three broomsticks then Honeydukes. What do you think?" He asked turning toward you. Just then the two boys were thrown from the circle in a flash of blue. Everyone around you gasped. You on the other hand giggled. 

After a few seconds you walked towards the heaps on the ground still laughing.

"I think that would be terrible." You smirked. Fred then looked up at you and laughter erupted from your lips, "Hey ...what's wrong with your face?" You giggled uncontrollably. 

Fred raised his white bushy eyebrows at you and you fell to the floor in a fresh wave of laughter, this went way better than you thought it would.

"Fred?" George asked from beside him. The twins locked eyes shocked expressions taking over their faces.

"This is your fault!" Fred gasped growing red.

"My fault!" George gasped, "How is this my fault?" 

You stood up smirked once again waving at the old men in front of you, before turning and leaving the scene, green robes billowing behind you.

"I'm gonna kill you George!" Fred shouted leaping on his brother after watching your reatreting form.

"He's staring again." Adrian whispered into your ear. 

"What's new?" You grumbled rolling your eyes. It wasn't like you needed Adrian to tell you about the staring, you could feel Freds eyes boring holes into the back of your head. 

Adrian chuckled and let his eyes wander to the front of the class. You tried to do the same but the thought of Fred's deep brown eyes being locked on you made focusing an impossible dream. 

You whipped your head around immediately meeting his eyes. You glared at him and he winked back. On a reflex you rolled your eyes and turned your head back to the front of the class. 

Fred had been like this since second year, the stares, the winks, the jokes, the flirting. It never ended. You had simply become accustomed to it. You remembered when it first happened. He had flirted with you in Snape's class, after he was separated from George he was forced upon you and you had been so flustered as a 12 year old girl who had never been flirted with before that you split all of the  potion you were making. And since then he had always been there, annoying you, making you blush, embarrassing you. You had simply become accustomed to Fred.

Once Flitwick dismissed you, you and Adrian left the classroom and headed toward potions. Personally you loved potions you knew that many people hated it because of Snape, but hell, he loved you, you were one of his top students. So when you entered the dungeons you couldn't help but feel a bit more peppy. 

"I wonder what we are going to be studying today." You gasped excitedly, "I hope its poisons!"

Adrian laughed, "You are so weird y/l/n." 

"Thanks." You smirked before entering the classroom and taking your seat. You glanced at the board and felt excitement once again rise in your throat. 

In Snape's signature handwriting could be read one word. Amortentia. You tapped your feet on the floor excited for the lesson ahead of you. 

After a few more minutes the classroom had filled up, well at first you thought it did, but at the same time, it seemed incredibly empty. Why was that?

You brushed of the feeling and focused back on the board. 

"Does anyone know the effects of this potion?" Snape drawled.

Your hand shot in the air.

"Ms. Y/l/n?" 

"Amortentia is the world's strongest know love potion. When given to a person it makes you fall into a desperate infatuation with that whom presented it. When smelling Amortentia you smell that which you love" you finished taking in a breath.

"Very good Ms. Y/l/n, 15 points to Slytherin." 

You smiled and then was once again overwhelmed with that empty feeling. Something was missing. Once again you brushed it off. 

"Now as Ms. Y/l/n said when you smell Amortentia you smell what you love. So I have some and I would like you to take notes on what you smell." Snape snapped, seeming very uncomfortable happy as usual.

He waved his wand and a small cauldron drifted to each desk. You could smell the most beautiful concoction of things the second it reached your table. You inhaled deep trying to place the smells.

You smelt fresh rain on grass. You smelt blueberry pancakes, bleach from a chlorinated pool and, what was that smell? 

It was sweet with a bit of smoky to it, like candy and gunpowder mixed, you inhaled more deeply trying desperately to place the smell but you were helpless. 

Just then there was a loud bang from the front of the classroom. Your head whipped upwards to see two red headed twins speaking to Snape. They seemed to be laughing, Snape was quite unamused.

They headed to there seats being followed by "45 points from Gryffindor!" 

When they passed you Fred through you a wink. They then took the desk behind you and you focused back on that smell. What was it? 

Just as you were getting back into your thoughts you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to be met with those deep brown eyes. 

"Yes Fred?" You asked impatiently.

"So, y/n I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of accompanying me to the ball in a few weeks?" He smirked, his messy red hair falling into his face. 

You rolled your eyes, "Try fixing your hair next time Weasley." You said as you brushed his hair out of his face.

Fred flashed red from the contract but gained his composure quite quickly, "Oh, but I'm sure you would love to see my hair messy every morning." 

You scoffed and inhaled sharply, on that inhale you got a strong whiff of that smell again, stronger than before. But you were facing away from the Amortentia? Then it hit you like a bus. 

You were smelling Fred in the potion resting on your desk. Your face was bathed in crimson as you look back up at the boy. Your breathing had become shallow and your eyes were panicked.

Unsure of what to do you simply snatched your stuff off of your desk and sprinted for the door. 

You could hear your name being called by various voices behind you but you didn't care. You kept sprinting until you were completely out of breath. You then walked to the side of the corridor and slid to the floor.

What the hell was happening? Why did you smell Fred? You didn't love Fred! He was the annoying git you had to deal with since you got boobs in 2nd year, he was just the guy who wouldn't stop flirting with you, and embarrassing you. He was just Fred.

Fred. Fred and his stupidly soft red hair and his idiotic deep brown eyes. Fred with his ridiculous jokes and his imbecile smile that made his eyes sparkle. Fred who's absence made rooms seem empty, Fred who made you smile everyday. Fred who told that Gryffindor to fuck off in third year and punched that Ravenclaw in fifth because they were messing with you. Fred who you secretly missed every summer. Fred who was always there. Fred who you always wanted there. Fred who you were in love with.

You buried your head in your hands and drew your knees to your chest. This couldn't be happening. What if your parents found out you were in love with a Weasley, a blood traitor. They would kill him and disown you! You began to panic again, your heart speeding in your chest you could feel you head pounding and your breath coming in short gasps.

"Oh thank god." You heard looking up.

Your eyes were greeted by a tall slim figure you recognized instantly.

"Oh Merlin y/n are you alright?" Fred asked dropping to his knees in front of you. 

Your breathing picked up speed and you began to stand up. 

"Woah woah woah woah!" Fred gasped putting his large hands on your shoulders to keep you in place. "I'm not going to hurt you alright?" His eyes were soft, his pink lips pulled into a concerned frown. "I'd never hurt you." He whispered 

"Just slow your breathing down for me alright?" He asked raising his eyebrows, "In and out nice and slow, in and out." 

As he talked to you you closed your eyes and followed his instructions. After a few minutes your breathing was normal and you opened your eyes again. 

You were almost taken aback by the sight. There Fred was his smooth red hair hanging on his face, his deep brown eyes sparkling in the faint candlelight that bounced of the dungeon walls, his lips looked deliciously soft a small smile playing on them. 

"You okay?" He asked 

You nodded slowly trying not to stare at those lips.

"I just want to say, I was just making a joke, I didn't mean anything by it. It's not like I'm go-" 

"I didn't leave because of your stupid joke." You chuckled.

"Oh." Fred looked surprised, he leaned back into a sitting position loosely hanging his arms around his knees. 

"Yeah." You murmured looking down at the stone floor.

"Why did you leave then?" He questioned.

You huffed, "Well um." You paused, "I can't believe I'm about to tell you this." You squeezed your eyes shut pursuing your lips before opening them and saying, "I smelled you in my Amortentia potion and it wasn't until you got close to me when I realized." 

You opened your eyes slowly. Fred's mouth was hanging open and his eyes were the size of golfballs. 

"A-are you serious?" He stammered.

You once again nodded slowly. 

"You love me?" He all but whispered.

You bit your lip and nodded again even more hesitant.

Fred just sat there. He shook his head in confusion and exhaled loudly. 

"Please don't freak out." You begged. "Because I'm already freaking out and if you freak out I don't think I'm going to be okay. I mean if my parents find out I'm in love with a Weasley they will probably disown me or something and-" 

"Hey." Fred placed his arms on your shoulders again, "You are going to be alright, I promise." His lips were parted in a wide smile, his white teeth flashed brilliantly. 

You took a deep breath in and then let it out, "Okay." 

"Now can I kiss you?" Fred asked blushing a bit. 

"Please." You begged. With that his lips were on yours. His hands moved from your shoulders to your waist as yours found his hair. He pulled you close as he could closing all the space between you. 

You felt his tongue graze your lip and you opened your mouth as you tugged on his hair lightly. 

Eventually you broke away gasping for air from swollen lips. Removing you hands from his hair and placing them around his neck. 

"Hey y/n/n?" Fred smirked.

"Yes Fred?" You inquired.

"Would you go to the ball with me?" He smiled.

"Of course idiot." You giggled.

"Just checking." 

Masterlist

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Eleven): I'll float through death, haunting you

Notes: This chapter had a slight impact on me emotionally, do with that what you will. Please, please listen to the content/trigger warnings. This chapter is essentially being stuck in a severely depressed, traumatized, and suicidal person's head for 16k words. If you are not in a place to handle that right now, come back another time, or give it a skip, or after you read it go frolic with puppies for a few hours. I cannot provide those puppies, but I wish you luck in finding them.

Word Count:  16232

Chapter Warnings: Depression, Trauma, Angst, Blood, Alcohol Use, Violence, Gore, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt/Aborted Suicide Attempt, Motor Vehicle Accident, Human Trafficking, Implication of Child Abduction/Abuse (possibly overt), I think that's everything.... is that everything....

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V isn’t quite sure how long she lays on the ground, crying out the last of her tears. Then she feels the warmth of sunlight spilling through her window.  She needs to get up, needs to move, but for what? The merc wishes so much to just lay down and die, to just let it all go. She’s going to die anyway, isn’t she? She wishes it could at least be a peaceful one, to melt into the earth and never be seen again. But instead this is what she gets; a violent end for a violent life. Years of seeking control over her own existence, of searching for a place in this world; only to be taken over and replaced by another. 

Her eyes land on her window, following the warm glow of sunlight, too warm on her skin.  And her stomach clenches. Sun shining through the fractured glass, her blood staining it. A physical symbol of him, of what he did, how he hurt her. She doesn’t want to see it; doesn't want to think about it. Her body moves on instinct across the room, closing the shutters. The room feels instantly darker, only the harshness of unnatural light glowing within it. And it feels right, better. To close it all out. 

V scrambles to think of what to do next, her brain still mush. She scratches at the back of her neck, touching her chipslot where that monster hides and immediately shuts out the thought, if she thinks, she’ll cry. She knows it. She’ll climb into a pit and never climb out. Spend all her six months crying in a dark apartment. 

Her hair is greasy with blood still sticking to pieces of it, though her skin feels cleaner. The idea that Vik and Misty had to bathe her while she was out of it flickers through her mind, making her want to die. A shower may help, clean herself up something proper and feel human again, at any rate. Its something she can actually deal with, something she can take care of when everything else is out of her control. 

The merc goes to her bathroom and sets to taking off the bandages that cover her upper half. Vik knows well enough not to send her home in bandages and expect them to last. If they were still holding her together, she’d still be sitting in his clinic. She unties all the bandages, leaving blood smeared gauze across her bathroom sink. Nothing falls apart or starts gushing crimson, so she’ll take it as a win. 

There’s a fresh scar running down her right forearm. She tests her fingers and hand, spelling star names to see if her fingers move without pain. The nerves seem fine, muscles a little weak, but she can still sign easily and should still be able to wield a gun or a knife. Much more may prove difficult, maybe she can work on rebuilding the strength in it. Not that it will matter much… in the long run… 

She shakes her head, trying to displace the somber thoughts, trying to just focus on getting from A to B. And while it’s not a grand goal, right now B is just the shower. Ther merc notices some more new scars across her chest and stomach, but focuses instead on pulling off the sweatpants. 

V runs the hottest water she can stand and sits on her shower floor, pressing her back to the wall and holding her knees for a moment. Hot water pouring down on her and flushing her skin pink.  Her throat tightens and her eyes sting, the desire to cry again, but she stops herself, holds it in. This isn’t what she wants, six months of crying and choking back pills. 

She rubs at her eyes, trying to focus on cleaning herself. Feeling her scalp as she washes her hair, there’s a faint trace of scars underneath the strands, but nothing she thinks would be noticeable to the naked eye. Vik’s worked his magic, yet again, or perhaps that’s just the magic of modern medicine. Her hair was left untouched, no bald spots, or places that had to be shaved down. The average person would never know she was shot in the head and died. 

When she touches her forehead blood clings to her finger tips, where Johnny bashed her head into the window. Not far from the cut is a scar on her temple, where the bullet entered. She finishes up her shower, standing and shutting the water off. V dries off and out of admittedly laziness, she pulls on the same sweatpants Vik sent her home in, they’re still mostly clean and she doesn’t want to throw on real ones. 

The reflection in her mirror pulls up and she’s just as lucky as she thought. V as she knows herself is staring back; bleached hair and gray eyes. But they’re not her eyes now, are they? 

The one thing given to her by her father that she didn’t completely hate, they shared the same gray eyes. Yet somehow his always reminded her more of  gunmetal, colder.  She’s never seen the same chill in her own eye, despite the shared color. Not the prettiest or most interesting color, as a kid she’d pout that she didn’t have the same green eyes as her mother and sister, but she learned to appreciate them. And now they’re gone. The eyes looking back at her are not her own, corp made and manufactured. Kiroshi tech created in a plant. Not the eyes she was born with, not the eyes that last looked at her mother, not the eyes that’d squint under the Badlands sun as a child. 

She stares deep into the color, they automatically match to the user’s natural eye color, unless chosen otherwise. It may just be psychological but she finds herself scrutinizing it, a part of her thinking the color may be off.  They’re the same gray, she knows it logically. But a part of her screams they’re darker, or lighter, have more blue to them. That something is off. But maybe the only thing off is that they’re not her’s. 

They’re top of the line too. She’s lucky… really, getting high end tech she didn’t want, never has to fear her autoimmune disease will blind her.  Anyone else would feel blessed, this is just a part of life in Night City. Kids begging for optics as soon as they hit eighteen, some trying to convince their parents to install it before. Not that long ago, some story broke of a kid gouging their own eyes out just to get optics before they turned eighteen. 

She’s lucky, so lucky, she reminds herself as she presses at her eyelids and feels the metal beneath the flesh. Lucky she survived a shot to the head, that’s lucky, right? Lucky that skin grafts and synth flesh tech means she looks like herself after. Lucky that when Johnny pummeled her head in, he didn’t do any serious damage or reopen a wound. Lucky she doesn’t even have bruises on her throat from his choking. Lucky that she’s somehow the only person who walked out of this shit show. 

So fucking lucky, that she came back from the dead to die again, to go from dead to dying, to be nothing but a walking corpse with the one person who gave a shit about her dead… So lucky… 

She’s trying not to cry again. Because of course she is. She slams her hands on her bathroom counter, kicking it with a bare foot, and screams into her hands. Deep breathes as she tries to gather herself again, she needs a new B. Something to focus on, something to do. 

Close the blinds. Take a shower, what now? She needs something, anything that isn’t thinking. The pills are still scattered across her apartment floor, her chest cold without a shirt. So, those become her new B’s, for just a moment. Her focus solely on picking up pills and pressing them back into the blue bottle, popping another, just in case. Then she’s rummaging through her closet, finding a shirt. Her eyes land on Ava’s old shirt, Samurai, that fucker’s band. She crams it in the furthest corner of her closet, not wanting to think of him, but her attachment to Ava keeps her from throwing the whole thing out. V throws on a plain black top and then she needs another B, another goal, no matter how small. 

V plops herself down on the floor in front of her bed, tapping her foot to the vibrations in her apartment. The radio must be on, a rhythm and beat bouncing through the apartment. Barry is probably annoyed at her, again, It's not the loudest she’s ever had it, but she’s learned quickly that for her to feel the thrum of it, the music ends up loud. Sometimes she’s been able to swear she feels her whole apartment shaking. 

She shoves her hands in her sweatpants pockets, as she wracks her brain for something to do, anything to keep her mind off her grief. A wrapper in her pocket crinkles, these aren’t her actual pants, ones from Vik’s clinic for patients trapped there for a long recovery. They don’t even fit her properly, too long fabric pooling around her feet. She tugs it out and smiles, her first since she woke up in the clinic. 

A little sucker, synthetic honey flavored, shaped like a little bear. Candy for being a good patient, slipped into her pocket, she wouldn’t know when. She tears the wrapper off and pops it into her mouth, soft sweet taste clinging to her tongue. What she did to deserve Vik is a mystery, how he could ever deem her worthy of his kindness is… mind boggling.  Fixed her up a billion times, pieced her skull back together. Top tier Kiroshi’s, mantis blades, and a projectile arm launcher. All thousands upon thousands of dollars. Given to her for nothing. She owes him, majorly. If she’s going to die, at the very least she can settle her debts, Vik deserves at least that much. 

She’s got a new B and as expensive as cyberware is, this one may take her longer than five minutes. V needs to figure out exactly how much she owes him, Vik would lowball it and let her off cheap, and then she needs to get herself working again. And god, does she like the idea of that. To be doing something, a slice of normalcy, even if she’s solo now. 

V is on her feet and turns off her radio, tucks in her hearing aids, and then goes rummaging through her things. Her choker translator from the box of her clothes from before the heist, she goes ahead and throws it on, then gets her holophone from the bag of her stuff Vik sent with her. There are notifications across her phone; emails, texts, and missed calls. An email from her building administration catches her eye, checking it first. 

‘Dear Sir/Madam, 

Our records show we have not received this month’s rent payment for your unit in Megabuilding H10. In accordance with the tenancy agreement VD-233015722/2077, any subsequent payment delay will result in forced eviction from the property.’

She checks the date, it's September. Nearly two weeks into it, she must have been unconscious for a while, a few weeks at least. She starts sorting through texts and calls. Jake messaging about Jackie, asking her to call him, asking where she is and if she’s okay. A few missed calls from him. Cece wondering why V is ghosting her after weeks of no replies. Fixers texting her about cars. Misty and Vik missed calls from before she showed up in the clinic, a few texts. Her fingers hover a text Misty had sent, the last one, sent while V was laying in a dumpster. 

Misty:  v?! konpeki is on the news. is something wrong? jackie won’t answer my calls… 

Misty:  he’s gone… isn’t he? 

There’s a shake in V’s hand as she moves on from it, not letting herself linger, not letting herself explore the grief and pain. She needs to get a job, she quickly links her phone with her new optics, not letting herself think of how much she hates that. That finished she goes to call Regina, the local fixer, but before she can tap the contact her holo begins to buzz in her hand, light flashing as a call comes through. 

Takemura the contact tells her, the little red avatar shows a familiar face, Saburo Arasaka’s former body guard. The long haired man who pulled her from a landfill. She’s still not sure what exactly his deal is; how he went from dragging her to Yorinobu to taking her to Vik’s clinic. Or why he’d be calling her. But she answers, with a heavy feeling in her stomach. 

“Takemura here,” he says, facing showing up in her optic and on her phone, “we must meet. Come to Tom’s Diner.” 

The immediate demand takes her off guard and she doesn’t want to do that. He may have taken her to Vik’s clinic, but he also slapped and choked her. She doesn’t know how he got from one point to the other, but she knows she doesn’t trust an Arasaka corpo. He could have a billion different hidden agendas. 

“No can do, surprising as it may be, I’m not in a great place right now,” she signs in return, not directly telling him her paranoia. 

“You may recall I saved your life. I need you to return the favor.” 

“I’m serious, I haven’t managed to get my head straight yet, its all been a lot… ” 

“That will not happen anytime soon and so what? If you intend to live, you must reenter the ring. The bell has already tolled. Tom’s Diner. I’m waiting.” 

“Look, I-” he hangs up, “fucker.” 

He can wait until the cow come home, she’s not interested in whatever bullshit he’s going to try and sell her. She remembers the assasin who attacked them, reading his lips. He called Takemura a traitor. But why would a man so highly regarded by Arasaka, enough to be Saburo’s bodyguard, suddenly turn on them? At best, this is some scheme to get her to do something, acting like he can potentially help her just to use her for something or pull some shit. He’s using it as a carrot on a stick and probably plans on beating her with the stick when he gets the chance. 

Instead, she calls Regina, a few rings before the eyepatched fixer answers. But looking at the little avatar of her face, she doesn’t seem too thrilled to hear from V, which is… odd.  

“V…” 

“Hey, know it’s been a while, but rent’s due and I’m swimming in debt. So, what you got for me?” 

“For you, V? Nothing.” 

Regina always has jobs, hell every fixer does, Night City is a festering cesspool of crime and bullshit. And V has been one of Regina’s top mercs ever since she moved into Watson. The eyepatched fixer has only ever had praise for the young mercenary. 

“My hearing aids busted? No jobs on the table, seriously?” 

“Not for you.” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve been you go to merc for fucking months, you use to have me doing five or more jobs a day. What’s the problem?” 

“Look, V, everyone’s heard what went down at Konpeki. You can’t botch a job like that and people not talk.” 

“I didn’t botch shit!”  Her lips move as she signs but she stops herself from yelling. Everything went to shit because of Yorinobu, right? Sure, she could have done more to save Jackie and Bug, sure she should have just not taken the job. But she didn’t fuck this up, just wrong place, wrong time. 

“Maybe you didn’t okay. But when you’re the only one who walks away; it doesn’t look good. Everyone’s saying you're the kiss of death, no ‘runner, merc, or fixer wants to end like Bug, Jackie, and Dex.” 

“You seriously think I’d betray you? You trust me that little, think I’d get you or anyone else killed on purpose?” 

Her throat tightens, eyes sting. Does Regina really think that little of V? Is that what the world thinks of her now? Just the merc that fucked up Konpeki and got her entire crew killed? Six months of consistent and quality merc work, thrown away because of one bungled job? 

“Of course not, V. You’re a solid merc, but what am I supposed to do? Any client finds out I put you on their job, they’ll think I lost my mind. Can’t put you on a crew, either.” 

“Client’s don’t have to know it’s me, I-” 

“They’ll know, V. Can’t do it.” 

“So, what the hell am I supposed to do!?” V signs and kicks her couch, starting to pull at her hair, the sting of her scalp reminding her of him. 

“Look, earn some rep back, show everyone Konpeki was a one off, a bad day. And then we can talk about getting you some jobs.” 

“And how am I supposed to earn rep back without jobs?” 

“Fucks sake V, want me to do your job for you?! NCPD always has scanner gigs and subcon work.” 

“So what, I’m supposed to earn a rep back by working with pigs!” 

“The streets talk, show you can do the jobs and do them well, remind people what you’re capable of. Then we can start talking about some jobs.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want to do jobs for the cops.” 

“Then don’t. Starve, go broke and lose your apartment, not my problem, V. Earn your rep back and we’ll talk gigs, until then, forget it.” 

And with that Regina hangs up and V groans, kicking her wall, its bullshit. Konpeki blew up spectacularly so and she gets that. But, she didn’t tell Yorinobu to kill his dad. She didn’t give the corpo brat daddy issues. And she doesn’t want to lower herself to police sub-contract jobs. Doing the cop’s job for them is the bottom of the fucking barrel, helping out pigs that are half the reason this fucking city is such a mess. 

Padre, she decides, he gave her a job when she just came to the city. He’s always had a soft spot for her, took a chance on her when she first got here. But, a voice in the back of her mind nags, the only thing worse than no reputation is a bad one. She hasn’t just gone back to square one, she’s in the negatives. The merc doesn’t let herself think about it for too long, calling the Heywood fixer’s number. 

His age spotted face pops up in her optics and she can feel a little dash of hope rooting itself in her chest. Surely he has work for her. Even if it’s something small, there’s got to be something.  

"V… it's been a while, my child. How have you been?"

"I, I'm here… More importantly, I could use some work."

"V…you ask me for work, to damage my own reputation for your sake, and so soon after Jackie’s passing? Have you no respect for me, yourself, or Jackie?"

The question feels like a punch in the gut. Padre knew Jackie since birth, knew Senora Welles while she was pregnant with him. He’s seen Jackie grow up and ultimately even brought the two mercs together. She knows he must be grieving, mourning, and here V is...trying to move on so soon after, trying to shut it all out. And she knows it must look bad, knows she may look heartless. But if she lets herself settle into that pit, she’ll never climb back out. 

“Padre I-” 

“Have you even spoken with his mother?” 

“No, I just-” 

“You should.  Avoiding grief is bad for the soul, yours and hers. As far as work goes, I cannot sully my hands to help you, not this time.”

“I understand…” 

“May God be with you, V.” 

He hangs up and V’s sure he must be sick of her shit, not that she can’t blame him. She knows he’s right. That she’s shutting everything out. But between Jackie’s death and her own; she doesn’t know what the fuck else to do. And facing his mom… there’s a tightness in V’s chest at the thought, looking her in eyes and knowing V couldn’t save him. Why would Mama Welles even want to see V after this? 

Maybe it's not the right or best way to deal with this, but it's all she has right now. V pulls up Dino’s contact next. He’s an alright guy, seems not to mind V at the very least. Though, he may just be trying to imagine what’s under her clothes each time they meet, probably not aware he’s already seen it. But hey, if it earns her a job, she’ll take it. She calls him. 

She gets his voicemail, hangs up without leaving a message and shoots him a text instead. Hoping he’ll read it when he gets a chance and sends some jobs her way. She tries Wakako next, the phone answers then hangs up before V can get a word out; making the Westbrook fixer’s stance clear. El Capitan the mulleted fixer of Santo Domingo sends her straight to voicemail, not even letting it finish ringing. She’s given Mr. Hand’s voicemail as well. After all the calls, she checks to see if Dino has responded to her text, groaning when she sees she’s been left on seen. Dino seeing the text but not responding. Not a single fixer is willing to work with her after Konpeki. 

V clenches her hands around her holophone, device threatening to crack under her grasp. Regina’s advice of NCPD jobs coming to mind. It’s no secret that the cops suck at doing their job, corrupted and incompetent. So much so that they’ll pay merc for intervening and taking down crime, shooting down gangers before they can shoot civilians. But it’s never something she’s wanted to do. Aligning herself with cops feels scummy.  But her rent is due and when she adds together the prices of top shelf kiroshi optics, mantis blades, and projectile arm launcher… she owes Vik around seventy-thousand eurodollars.  Savings can cover her rent with some left over, but not nearly enough to pay back Vik. 

She calls the NCPD and asks about getting set up for sub contract work, half swallowed pride in her throat as she forces herself through the conversation. The rather bored sounding officer getting her set up to do the work, fairly simple. Listen to police scanners, find crimes to intervene in, drop any evidence off at a drop box, and get paid. Evidence is a lose term, they’re most interested in anything with proof of who was involved, shards or docs. And while the officer doesn’t say she can keep any loot or stolen stuff she wants, the implication is clear that they won’t stop her. Most interested in getting violent gangers put down. 

V quickly throws on some clothes, throwing a baggy black hoodie over it all, then grabbing her mask. In rifling through the bag of her things taken from Vik, the sight of her blood stained Konpeki clothes makes her stomach churn but she finds the little beaded bracelet that Misty gave her before the heist. The blue beads now carry little flecks of blood, lapis lazuli meant for spiritual protection. She slides it on over her leather cuffed bracelet, she needs all the help she can get.  With that she puts the bag aside, not wanting to ruminate on the blood soaked clothes for any longer. 

She finds the bullet pendant still under the pillow, another good luck charm, to hear Misty. There’s something morbid in wearing the bullet that killed her. But, she likes it, and if Misty’s right… Again, she desperately needs as much luck as she can gather. The merc pulls it on. She keeps her mask in her usual bag, throwing the pill bottles from last night in there too, pops her regular med, makes sure she has her weapons, and leaves her apartment. 

It feels surreal, walking through the halls of her apartment complex again. Moving through people and seeing the lights around her. Feeling like a zombie walking amongst them. To hear the chatter again, hundreds of people in this building, moving along with their lives. While she’s stuck with a terrorist in her skull. While she’s come back from the dead. While she’s lost the most important person to her. While she can still feels his hands on her throat, though her left her with no bruises. Only the mark on her forehead and the crack in her window are a reminder of his existence. 

“Hey, V!” A voice calls out, stopping her in her tracks as she turns to see Wilson outside the Second Amendment store. 

“Hey,” she signs in turn, walking up to meet him. 

“Haven’t seen you in a good one, two… few weeks, heheh. Figured you’d skipped town.” 

“Just trouble… the usual,” she signs, hoping her face won’t give away her unease. 

“A-ha, got just the thing for you, then.” 

“I don’t know about that, I got rent to pay and debts to clean up, don’t need to be spending my money on a new toy.” 

“C’mon, V, got a beauty that practically has your name on her.” 

And despite her better judgement she finds herself following Wilson into the gun shop, she can cover rent, so maybe spending what’s left over on a gun isn’t so bad. Wilson hefts up a case and undoes it, V’s breath catches in her throat because Wilson really has her number. A beauty of a sniper rifle in a brilliant metallic blue, not too bright to keep some stealth, but still within her favorite cyan hues. It's already outfitted with a silencer and what looks to be a digital scope. 

Her desert eagle is her go to when it comes to guns, but the powerful little .50 caliber can’t fit a silencer, at least not without a lot of tricky fucking around. Her knife is silent, but distance is a struggle, her knife throwing skills only making up so much for it. The launcher is far from silent. A sniper rifle might be the perfect addition. Her father taught her how to fire them as a kid, looking down the sight, feeling the recoil as the butt slammed into her shoulder. She had decent aim, but it’s been years since she touched one. 

“.50 BMG, bolt action sniper rifle. Your color, your caliber, what more could you want?” 

“You really do know me too well, don’t you?” 

“Told ya, got your name on it.” 

“Mind if I try her out first?” 

“C’mon” 

Wilson lets her pick up the rifle, feeling the weight of it in her hands as she trails after him into the shooting range. Its a heavy made rifle, which is good, since that will help keep recoil from hitting as hard. V’s a small thing, so the bigger caliber guns she loves can kick back like a pissed off mule. Even her favorite handgun has a heavy kickback, the Desert Eagle not a gun to fuss with, but she’s learned to take the recoil over the years, shooting guns since she was a kid. 

Memories of another gun, even more powerful than her own go to, the Malorian withe Last True Friend scratched into its barrel. Wielded in silver fingers, the force of it would have shattered anyone else's arm, and would have destroyed her own. 

She shakes those memories from her head; they don’t belong to her after all. V plays with the sniper rifle in Wilson’s gun range, liking the feel of it in her hands. The accuracy of the scope. She ends up leaving with it on a holster on her back alongside her bag, paying Wilson for the new gun and some extra ammo. 

In the elevator she tunes her hearing aids to a police scanner frequency, picking up the nearest potential jobs first. And in moments she hears the chatter of Tyger Claws attacking a ripperdoc clinic, not one she knows, but they’re not far from her apartment. She takes her mask from her bag and slides it on as she leaves the megabuilding. 

She calls her car through her phone. And receives a notification that it was towed and can’t be dropped off for another day. So, she’s walking, until she finds something to steal. At least the first job isn’t far. Wandering through the Night City streets and through a tunnel, she drops a few stray Eurodollars in a man’s cup and lets him know he may want to scram. He gets the message and gets some distance from the area. 

The tunnel opens to a square yard and she can see the gangers just from the edge of it, unaware of her. V crouches and pulls her rifle from her back, taking aim at the Tyger Claws over a cement staircase. One dead with a headshot as soon as she lines up the scope and pulls a trigger. Others yell out, run to investigate, walking right into her sights. Three more dead in a moment. A fifth runs behind a green and red car for cover, she fires her first round through her projectile launcher, blowing the car to ash and dust, killing the ganger. And they’re all dead, not a shot fired off at the merc. Picks through bloody corpses, pocketing what she can. She finds the doc dead in his clinic, shard saying the Claws attacked because he was pulling chrome from dead Claws. She drops it off at a drop box and gets eight hundred eddies sent to her account. 

The scanner picks up another job, crime filled Night City streets always having something to offer. There’s a Kusanagi motorcycle, bright red with stickers across, belonging to one of the gangers. She grabs it and makes her way back through the streets. 

Four Tyger Claws on the rooftop of a building, less clean. She nearly catches a grenade, barely dodging it as memories of gunpowder and Mexico heat flash through her mind, a phantom pain in her arm and the weight of fallen friend on her back. But at the end of it, she’s the only one standing. Some fuss about an antenna and she’s another eight hundred dollars richer. 

Larger job at the corner of Drake and Cartwright, at least twelve Claws having taken over a market space. The merc takes advantage of her new rifle and the concrete jungle landscape, climbing up steps and perching herself on an air conditioner unit, shooting around the corner of the building. With time and patience, five Tygers dead from sniper bullets, brains splattered on the market stalls they were robbing.  The rest won’t enter her sight line, ther merc slinking down to meet them, picking them off with her sidearm and knife, chasing them through the lantern strewn market. A slightly surreal feeling to it, walking through blood stained market stall, corpses thrown across it, brains leaking into cracks of the cement while she grabs a Nicola and a bike with more gas in it. 

And that's what she does, not letting herself stop to think, just moving from job to job. Three Maelstrommers in a fire fight with cops after trying to klep some shit and setting off an alarm. There’s a gross feeling in her chest when the cops thank her, wondering how many skeletons hang in the officer’s closet. But her bank account is fatter and that’s all she can focus on in the moment. 

She rides past a tv screen in a building showing the news, talking about Saburo Arasaka’s death and races through traffic before she can hear anything more. That night still haunting her like a ghost, its been weeks, can’t the story be over. Can’t it be enough… 

Sniped Maelstrommers from the ledge of a building, peeking around the corner into the alley to a warehouse, finding an extra three thousand tucked away in it. Three Tyger Claws shot down after killing a snitch. It's all instinct, all muscle memory, ending lives as easily as she breathes. It’s not pretty or good work, but she’s a natural at it. 

She has to park across the street from Lizzie’s for the next one, a group of Claws, one of the main gangs in Watson. Her stomach churns and biles burn thinking of the prep work, thinking of the warning signs, thinking of why she should have turned around and left. Pushing it aside she kills a handful of Tyger Claws, before moving to the next job further up the road. 

Animals shaking someone down in an alleyway, she hands behind the table of an abandoned vendor’s table, piled high with goods. She throws a knife over it, watching the blade sink into one ganger before sniping the rest. Her stomach drops when she raises and sees the records that cover the abandoned table. 

Black and red labels; Samurai and Silverhand etched across the graphics in white. His records amongst the oldies. Its like the world is mocking her, haunting her with that man, with that night. She throws them off the table, crushing them underfoot as she goes to collect her knife and finish the job. 

The radio announcer hypes up the Arasaka health insurance plan on her way to next job and she shuts her hearing aids off for a moment, just the sound of the corps name making her want to scream. She changes the radio when she climbs off and flicks them back on before she clears a gang of Scavenger out from under an overpass. 

Five Malestrommers get killed near the Med Center, gangsters managing a deal to steal chrome off of comatose patients. She can feel the bruise her new rifle has caused, still some recoil to it, but the ache doesn’t stop her. The ache she gets just helps to keep her mind away from other things. Somehow it’s nearly four pm and she doesn’t know when that happened. 

Near Goldsmith street she’s tasked with taking out another Scavenger nest. A large messy one, armed with illegal shit stolen from Trauma Team. Spotted weaving through them, a full gun fight across the rooftops. Dodging and chasing Scavs through it, dodging behind crates and transformers. And she can nearly hear Jackie, can hear him laugh, can hear him yelling, because this is the kind of shit they did. But she knows it's just a memory; she’s alone with adrenaline in her veins, sweat on her skin, and a timebomb in her head. 

She drops the last Scav, breathing labored, a few new injuries bleeding steadily. An hour spent battling the vultures, blood heavy under her fingernails, and she picks up on the scanner another job nearby. The merc already moving to get to it, not let her body rest for a minute, because as long as it’s moving her brain slow down just a little. 

Clears out Tyger Claws from a construction site in the Northside of Watson. The sun setting just as she drives up and shoots down a cluster of Maelstrommers doing business behind a diner, having killed a drug dealer who stopped supplying. Another group of the chromed out gang taken down for attacking a shipment yard who they felt wasn’t cutting them a good enough discount. 

Cleaning up another nest of them in a shipyard full of crates, picking through Maelstrom corpses and cop bodies there before she arrived shows a commissioner sent his boys in blue to die, for poking around where he didn’t want them to, for doing their job. She can’t even pretend to be surprised. 

Northside is mostly Maelstrom territory, so it’s no shock it’s another group of the mini borgs she’s taking down as she pulls up to Offshore Street, an ad across the way promising to knock the devil out of her, she’s not sure what the ad is even for, but the message reminds her of her passenger. The proverbial devil she’d love to have knocked out. The gangoons are in a trainyard, stealing running gear from a convoy they jacked. There’s a high enough building for her to perch and take care of them easy, before dropping back in amongst their corpses to pick through for what she needs. Same thing she’s done time and time again. 

Samurai written across the back of a now dead gang member's shirt, because of course. She kicks his corpse, as if she were striking the monster in her head. Shoots an already dead body twice, tears threatening to rush out, a scream on the tip of her tongue. And she swallows it back down. 

Two more clusters of Tyger Claws are taken care of, the thanks of a plant worker held at gun point by a bridge makes her smile, even if just a little. Knowing she did manage to hopefully help someone, they were trying to klep chemical to make their newest drug; Glitter. At least he didn’t have to die for something so stupid. 

Her holophone buzzes in her pocket, missed calls and text messages across it. The first text from Bartmoss Collective, which seems to be some strange spam, talking to her about capitalism. The missed calls and other text from Senora Welles. V scratches at her face, checking the message. 

Mama Welles: V?

Mama Welles: V, we need to talk, please pick up

V chews on her lip, stomach twisted in knots. What the hell does she say, what the hell can she say? How can she even look Mama Welles in the fucking eye after this? Her fingers shake over the keys as she types the only thing she can think to send. 

V:  I’m sorry.

Sorry for Jackie, sorry for evading her, sorry for being such a coward. Sorry is all she can think to be… 

Two more jobs, both Maelstom again and she decides to head home for the night. Her body is exhausted, mind fuzzy as she drives the stolen bike down the city streets. It's nearly midnight, all she’s ran on the entire time is a honey sucker and stolen Nicola. But, that means she’s tired, worn out and may be able to find sleep easily. 

She steps into the elevator; eyes already threatening to drift shut. V pushes her mask up off her face and thumps her head back against the wall;  immediately regretting it, the gesture too similar to Johnny's, the thunking of his head against her wall. She hates this, all she wants is to shut it all out, to forget it all if only for a day and just focus on work. But it’s haunting her. 

“Night City is still in a state of mourning,” a newscaster prattles off, “following the death of Arasaka CEO, Saburo Arasaka. Flag on all city buildings are lowered to half mast and all major public events have been postponed until further notice. Daughter and heriress Hanako Arasaka arrived in the city, in the wake of the tragedy.” 

“Fuck you!” 

She screams at the screen, nearly frothing at the mouth as she puts a voice to her anger, feeling eyes on her as soon as she has. The elevator has come to a stop, someone just trying to enter it, staring at her wide eyed at having seen and heard the outburst. She pushes past them, tugging at her hair and ready to explode or cry or scream or something. Because its bullshit, it’s all bullshit and she fucking hates it. 

The world is mourning Saburo; fuck Saburo! He was a piece of shit, a corpo sleaze who’d do anything to make a dollar, to get more power. Yet the world is meant to mourn him, meant to mourn a man who did everything he could to fuck it up. A man so awful his own child would strangle him just to be free of the monster. 

Good people died that night, actually good fucking people, Bug and Jackie. And the world moves on without them. No flags fly half mast for them. No one has even contacted or spoke to her about Bug. Even she can’t bring herself to actually mourn, to take the time to feel her feelings. The world barely remembers them as soon as they’re gone. 

And she doesn’t consider herself a good person, not like them. She’s nowhere as kind or welcoming as Jackie nor as talented as Bug. But damn it, she died too. And no one cares. The world just keeps on moving. And it hurts. 

She screams when she closes her door, just screams and lets it out for a moment. V doesn’t want to cry again, is sick of crying. So, she just screams and punches her fist back against her wall. Her radio is playing music again, she notices as she starts to calm down, body leaning against the door as exhaustion settles back in her bones. She swore she turned it off, the shitty little thing must be acting up. She doesn’t have the energy to care. She haphazardly throws some of her clothes off, dropping her bag and weapons as she marches to her bed. She’ll sleep through it, sleep through the wellspring of anger and pain that’s started to burst out. 

V puts her hearing aids on the side table and lays back against her pillows, feeling the plush of it welcoming her. She closes her eyes and takes deep breaths, trying to relax her body. Trying to find some calm, trying to find that serenity she’d had in silence for so long. Letting the exhaustion of her day send the world away. 

Then she feels something pressing into the mattress beside her. The warmth of a presence looming over her, the smell of cigarettes and musk. And she’s shooting up in her bed, breath choking and clawing in her throat; heart trying to escape her rib cage.  She expects him, expects to see him, is waiting for Johnny to be there with harsh hands and a sharp tongue. 

But she’s alone. 

She sits on the edge of her bed and just breathes, running her fingers through her hair, she has no idea how this all works. No one does. At least no one she can speak to. What if he comes back in the night? He got control of her last time, what if he finds a way to do it again? What if he takes over in her sleep? God only knows what he could or would do…  She doesn’t even know how long the pills suppress him, he can flicker and control how he shows up, he could be active right now and just hiding… waiting for a moment to lash out. Waiting for her guard to fall. 

And if it’s not him, it will be his memories. 

V can’t sleep, she decides all at once, not now. Maybe never again. And she has no idea how long she’ll make it like this, but she knows she can’t give him that chance. Can’t live his memories again. Can’t deal with this. She grabs her hearing aids tucking them back in, rock music still drifting through her apartment, as she goes to her bathroom. V needs to get back out there, back to work. It's the only thing keeping her somewhat sane, though that thread gets close to snapping every second. 

She washes dirt and blood from her hands, then splashes cold water into her face, trying to wake herself up. The cold shock of it disrupts some of the exhaustion, as she looks back up at herself. Still a little dirt on her face, bags already starting to form beneath her gray eyes. She grips the edge of the sink looking at herself,  steadying her breaths, water dripping down her nose. 

 A blind man lost, in the streets

A pattern here I need to see

Keep returning, keep trying to leave

Got a bad feeling that I need to feel

 Her knuckles whiten fingers digging into the sink, blood going cold and air catching in her throat. His voice, that fucking voice, playing through a radio. A song she’d never think anything of most days, maybe she’s heard it before and wrote it off. But now her heart hammers at the sound. She’d never even know who it was, but she now knows that voice like she knows her own name. 

A black dog runs at my side

Down a road, no end in sight

The city sleeps but in my mind

Got a knot that won't unwind

 She runs from her bathroom, tripping over herself as she rushes through the apartment. Her nails digging into the plastic as she frantically shuts off the music. Shutting out that damn voice for a moment, as she tries to get her bearings. She throws it down on the floor, a spike of satisfaction in the sound of it bouncing off the linoleum. 

“Fuck!” V curses out loud, her head throbbing with the pain of it all. She holds her head in her hands for a moment before she’s moving again. 

The merc is grabbing up a thermos, gifted to her by Misty and meant for relaxing teas, V fills the bottom half with a mix of Spunky Monkey and Chromanticore. Then brews a bot of coffee in the little maker she has stacked on her microwave. There’s a nearly caustic smell as she dumps black hot coffee in with the cold energy drinks; filling the thermos with a cocktail of energy that will either keep her awake or kill her. Either way she’ll be thrilled. It all burns like acid in her throat, a cloying tar taste stuck to her tongue, but after three swigs she can feel her energy picking up. She swallows another omega blocker with the fourth one. 

Then she’s yanking her pants back on, getting all she needs to get back to work, marching back out her front door with her concoction in hand. She’s drinking it, cringing at the taste as she comes back down the stairs. 

“NCPD open up!” A loud male voice yells out and she see two police officers outside of Barry’s door, her downstairs neighbor is a cop himself. 

“Barry! We know you’re in there, we’re here to help!” The female officer yells 

“You don’t got no fucking warrant!” 

“Cut the bullshit! Just open up!” 

“We came here as colleagues- nothin’ else. Haven’t heard from you in a while, we’re worried!” 

“Noted. Now leave me alone!” 

“Congrats, Mendez,” the female officer looks at her coworker, “way to be a prick.” 

“Oh what? So I’m the bad guy? I’m not the one holed up playing the attention whore!” 

“He lost a friend, can you blame him?” 

“He’s not the first or the last. It’s called life.”

The two police officers leave Barry’s door and go to lean against the railing of the hallway, talking amongst themselves. V and Barry have made small talk a few times, he’s an alright guy, despite his job. And judging by the way his coworkers are talking, he’s been having a rough go of it. Losing a friend… she can certainly relate. She takes another swig of concoction and heads over, double checking her choker is on, mask still in her bag for now. 

“Is something wrong? I live upstairs,” she signs to the police officers, indulging her curiosity. 

“So keep on livin’ and stop minding other people’s biz.”  The burly officer huffs, annoyed that the merc has dared bother them. 

“Hold on, it’s his neighbor.” 

“Any way I could help?” 

“Maybe, you know Barry at all?” 

“We’ve talked a handful of times.” 

“He’s a friend from the precinct. Left the force not long ago. He broke down after his best friend died. We’re worried he’ll do something stupid. “

“Relax, Petrova,” Mendez scoffs, “Barry’s got nerves of steel- he’s just a spiteful old bastard” 

“Mendez, I-,” she rolls her eyes, looks back to V, “could you check in on him when he’s chilled down?” 

“Sure, not exactly far away.” 

“Thanks, just be patient. Cops fallen on rough times can be… touchy.” 

“I got you,” V signs with a nod, deciding to go ahead and test the waters. There’s something about getting herself caught up in someone else's troubles, it’s easier to worry about someone else. It’s a nice distraction. 

She knocks against his door, knuckles scrapping the metal. No response, she knocks again. Nothing, so she knocks again. 

“Hey, you home?” 

No response again, he seemed heated when he was yelling at his coworkers and he probably likes them more than he likes the stranger from upstairs. She decides to let it go for now, she’ll check back in on him later. Another drink fo her death cocktail, her head ache growing worse and her heart rate picking up, but she feels wired enough to take on the world. Mask down as she leaves the building, she tunes to the scanner. 

And each job bleeds into each other; Tyger Claws, Maelstrommers, Scavengers, Animals, and just petty criminals all blend together. All just bodies, sheep to her slaughter as she works her way through this, refusing to stop or breathe. 

Bullets sniping through the air between swigs of her concoction. Blade thrown and retrieved, an abandoned energy drink guzzled. A gangoon gutted, a half drunk coffee stolen by grubby merc hands. Omega blockers swallowed down with caffeine every couple hours, as the night bleeds into the next morning. But the sun rises above her only to fall again, unable to keep track of the seconds, minutes, hours; all just a blur. Pick up a scanner job, get there, clear it, drink something with caffeine, drop off evidence, grab a vehicle and get to the next job. Then do it again, do it again, again, again, again…. 

New bruises on her skin with every job; new cuts, new scrapes, new aches. The migraine is constant, head pounding in tune with her racing caffeine soaked heart. But she welcomes it all, the bite of physical pain to keep her mind off the emotional. 

The sun is just setting on a day other than the one she left her apartment. Maybe it’s been two, three, or more days of mindless grunt work across the city. Just stacking up her bank account and maybe, she hopes, earning a rep back across the streets. Though, what could is a rep to a dead woman walking? She can’t but wonder as she pulls up near Charter Street for the next scanner. Tyger Claws again, seen spending too much time near a shipyard behind the old buildings. 

She walks swiftly through an abandoned parking lot, seeing the standard signs of the shipyard. Stacks and stacks of shipping containers, some rusted and broken open, others sealed tight. Pallets of concrete and building supplies, she doesn’t see signs of the gangoons yet. She walks crouched through a  shipping container opened on both ends, moving closer to get a scope of the area. Peeking around the edge of it, she sees the first signs of life. 

A Tyger Claw leaning against a car, mottled red and green. She’s far away and can’t get a clear picture through the crates of who else is with him. The merc moves up, slinking into another open rusted crate. She can see more bodies, more vehicles. But the glitch of a Scavenger mask catches her eye. Claws and Scavengers together… 

With the cars around them, she opts to use her launcher, the smart aiming better than her sniping could ever be when it comes to getting around obstacles. The rocket launcher emerges from her forearm, locking onto her target, she fires off the incendiary round. It curves but can’t quite hit dead on at the angle, bursting into flames and barely catching a flame on the ganger. She curses as the boom of it gives her away. 

Scavs and Claws scream, come running towards the crate she’s in. She readies her launcher again back up in the container, as a member of each gang run before her, catching a look at the merc just before she fires, It connects easily, both dying on impact, corpses going on in flames as V continues to back up through the crate and out of it, getting distance between herself and the swarming gang members. Another shot fired at the car, setting off a boom, that kills two more. 

“This is bad, bad, bad!” A gang members yells, one of three still rushing her across the lot. He dies from another incendiary round a moment later, screaming as he’s engulfed in flames, another gang member dying with him. 

One Scavenger woman is still running forwards towards V as she walks backwards, grabbing her knife from it’s holster. And V throws it, the final gang member unable to stop in time, running right into the thrown blade. It sinks into her throat, blood spurting forward as the woman collapses. V pulls the knife back out, wiping it across already stained jeans as she marches forth to survey the area without threat. 

Tyger Claws and Scavenger now lie in burnt remains, the smell of melting flesh hot in the air. But other than cars and gangoons, nothing else is severely burned. The benefit of the smart targeting and rounds, the perfect amount of controlled chaos. She steps over corpses, collecting what she wants off of them as she moves to the hub of stacked shipping containers. The black remains of the car are still sputtering flames. 

Its a little maze of containers as she picks up anything she wants, then she hears a steady thump, something banging against the metal. She twists her head around, searching for the source. It gets more frantic, the echo to the sound telling her it’s coming from one of the dozen or more crates. 

“Is someone there?” She signs, mask translating as she tries to get an idea of which container it may be. 

“Help, please, help!”  A heavily accented and muffled voice yells out. And V finds the crate, unlocking it. 

An awful stench pours out of it as the blue rusted door slide open, a huddled crowd of five or so people. Mostly women but a few men, skin caked in filth, bruises heavy on their skin. The one at the front of the container, who was beating on the door freezes, a woman with what looks like a broken nose  stares at V wide eyed for a moment.  The merc realizes why, quickly sliding the mask up to the top of her head. 

“I’m not with them,” her choker translates and she can see the relief that flood the people, “lets get you all out of here.” 

The people slowly leave the container, on shaky legs and V’s stomach lurches. There’s blood and filth, human waste, across the container. No telling how long these people were locked in here. But that’s only partly why the stench is so foul, she realizes, when a body at the back of the cargo crate doesn’t move. V walks through the crate turned prison, taking a closer look, hoping she’s wrong. 

She isn’t. 

A girl of maybe sixteen, the mottled bruises on her skin not just injury but validity, blood no longer pumping but instead stagnant. Her corpse just on the verge of decomposition, leopard spotted jeans stained with blood and her own waste. V tentatively searches through the young girls pockets, searching for something to help ID her, finding a holophone with the teenager’s final message sent. 

Tracy: mom, i need help. 

Tracy: i think ive been kidnapped

Tracy: mom please help

And V can’t read the rest, bile churning in her gut, but candy and caffeine is all she could hope to puke up. A young girl on her way to a party, snatched up and shipped off to Night City. Final typed out words, a desperate plea for her mother to help. 

V leaves the crate before she gets sick, still five bruised and filthy people shivering in the open air. The orange glow of the burning car and setting sun settles over it all. She digs around the things the gangers left behind, finding a shard between Peter and Jotaro Shobo. 

Jotaro Shobo, a well known piece of shit in Night City, a high ranking member of the Tyger Claws who scrolls X-BD’s of himself torturing people. The Scavs were bringing in people for the slaughter, judging from the message, Peter telling Jotaro they had just arrived in the city. These folks aren’t from the area. 

“None of you are from Night City, are you?” She signs to ask, nods confirming the suspicion. And that wasn’t the only shipping container, many still around them. She hasn’t heard anymore thumping or yelling, but she still needs to check. 

“What’s going to happen to us…?” A woman asks in a broken voice, the sound a scratch in her throat. And chews her lip, she can’t get these people back home. That’s a job for the NCPD, but will they do their job is the question. She surely can’t abandon them like this. 

“I’m going to check the rest of the crates, see if there’s anyone else, and call the NCPD. Hopefully, we can get you all sorted and back home.” 

She gives the best comforting squeeze that she can to their shoulder, feeling the skin and bone beneath her hand. V is suddenly so much more thankful that the fire from her launcher didn’t get out of hand, if so she could have cooked these people alive in the crates.  

And who would have known or care? 

There’s a pang in her heart as she starts opening crates, some filled with nothing but corpses. Others with drugs and supplies for the Claws’ X-BDs. She pulls two more people from a crate, just as bloody and beaten as the others. V can’t help but think of it, that young girl just gone, dead to the world. A mother left in terror, not knowing what’d happen to her baby. People thrown out and taken from the world. And if they all were gone, the world would just keep going. 

Just like with her. Just like Jackie and Bug. And fuck, just like the people she’s killed in the past however many days. All just bodies to the rest of the world. A city that doesn’t care, that’ll forget them as soon as they’re gone. People who never really mattered to the world or had a place in it to begin with. 

She opens the last of the shipping containers, heavy metal doors creaking and amongst corpses, she sees one moving body. A young girl, maybe eight, face fleck in blood and wide eyes looking at V. Sick fucks, grabbing whatever and whoever they could. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re safe now.” V speaks, hoping the sound of a human voice will bring more comfort than her translator, even if the noise is rough. But the little girl comes walking slowly out. Her eyes welling with tears, choked half understood sobs as she asks where she is, where her mom is. 

V scoops the girl up, doing her best to comfort the child as she brings her back to the group, out of all the bodies around ten are still alive altogether. Lost and now just sitting around as they wait for what comes next. The shard between Peter and Jotaro said they’ve been here for weeks. V sits against a shipping container, child still crying into her chest as she calls the NCPD, debating for a moment, before deciding to put her translator back on. 

“Night City Police Department, how can I assist you?” A bored voice answers the line. 

“My name is V, I’m a merc who does sub contract work for the department.” 

“You forget how to shoot people?” The dispatch scoffs, like she’s wasting their time. 

“No, asshole, I’m sitting here in a shipyard near Charter Street, Scavengers were trying to traffick in fresh bodies. Got ten or more folks from overseas, been crated up for weeks, no idea where they are or how to get home. So, I thought maybe, you’d all like to come down here and do your job.” 

“Uh-understood, we’ll be dispatching someone to you right away.” 

And with that the call ends, now all V can do is wait. Her momentum stopped in it’s tracks to take care of the strangers, One of them, a woman with dyed blue hair and overgrown black roots, looks to V. 

“So, we’ll be getting out of here soon?” 

“I’d like to say yes, but I’m afraid when the NCPD says ‘right away’ they mean give them three hours, so might as well settle in.” 

“You’re… not… gonna leave, right?” 

“Don’t worry, Night City isn’t the safest of beasts even if you’re in good shape. Wouldn’t leave you all out here alone.” 

“Thank you… I… thank you.” 

“Also,” V starts to speak as an idea pops in her head, feeling how thin the girl feels in her arms, “I know this probably sounds absolutely ridiculous, but I can order like, I don’t know, pizza or something?” 

Something about it feels so strange and weird, after being kidnapped and taken abroad, a merc offering to buy you cheap pizza. But, it’s all she can think to offer in the time they’re waiting. She can’t help them get any cleaner; can’t hose them down or take them all back to her apartment for a shower. She can’t house them all, certainly. She can’t take them back home, or undo all they’ve been through. But… she can buy some pizza, help them fill their bellies after so long of going without. 

“Please…” 

And she does just that, ordering on an app through her phone, Buck-A-Slice is the cheapest and quickest option. Plus, the franchise now delivers their orders with drones, cheaper than having to pay human beings, which means she doesn’t have to explain literally any of this. A thousand times quicker than the NCPD, a drone drops off a stack of boxes with greasy cheap shitty pizza. But they tear into it like it's a feast and she finds herself eating too, not even realizing how hungry she was. Has she eaten since she started doing her little job bender?

Time ticks by as the people try to talk between eating, trying to fill the quiet night air with chatter. The little girl has fallen asleep in V’s lap, one of the merc’s hands rubbing circles on her back, the other fiddling with the bullet pendant that hangs around her neck. Stillness forced upon her, her mind starts to roam again. 

Bug fried in a chair. Jackie bleeding out in the backseat of a Delamain. And V’s brains blown out over a hotel floor. All gone, though technically she’s still here, but she doesn’t feel like it. She feels like she’s already gone and she might as well be. Thrown away into a landfill and the world still spins. Still spins after all that’s happened. The only dead man mourned in the wake of Konpeki is Saburo, the only one rich or powerful enough for the world to give a shit. 

And she’s dying again, this time, there won’t even be a body to burn. It will be like she was never here, overwritten like an unwanted file. Just a painful fade from existence as she loses herself, loses control, and is taken over. 

There’s a rumble of car wheels across the lot. Flashes of lights, a few police NCPD cars as well as two unmarked vehicles, a car and a truck. There’s a handful of uniformed cops getting out of their cars. And two men outside of uniform, detectives, she thinks. 

“We’re over here!” One of the women yells out, drawing the attention of the officers. 

“Christ that smell,” one of the men out of uniform comments, an older man with gray hair. 

But V’s eyes are drawn to the other plain-clothed man, if the clothes can really be called that. He himself stands out, around six foot five and muscular, his jacket a dark brown leather with fur across the collar. A shaved head of dark hair, one brown eye and a metal telescopic implant in place of the other. He’s attractive, a shallow little part of her notes. 

“Detective Ward,” the mountain of a man introduces himself to V, “heard a merc called, something about a group of people locked in shipping crates. We’re gonna get you home safe, but first, can you tell me what happened?” 

V has to try not to laugh. She honestly doesn’t blame him for assuming she was among the kidnapped folks. Her work has left her beaten, bruised; blood and grime on her skin. V’s clothes are still slightly damp from scanner jobs that made chase after evidence in a submerged van. She smells like sweat, murky water, and blood. 

“I’m the merc who called, actually,” V signs and sees the realization dawn on the detective’s face. 

“Sorry, I-” 

“No worries, I get it, not exactly in my Sunday best.” 

“What exactly happened here… ?” He prompts her to introduce herself. 

“V. I was doing scanner jobs, cleared out some Claws and Scavengers, found myself some refugees, called you all, and ordered some pizza. But, I think this tells the story pretty well,” she explains then hands Detective Ward the shard between Peter and Jotaro. 

He gives her a skeptical look for a moment, eye narrowed at the shard. But he seems to ultimately decide that the deaf five foot merc with a child in her lap isn’t that big of a threat. Taking it from her fingertips with metal fingers, a silver hand… And she hates how that little acknowledgement makes a cold sweat form at her hairline.  

Detective Ward pushes the shard into his chip slot, his eye glowing blue for a moment as he reads it. His expression shifts a somber and cold look across his features. 

“Jotaro fuckin’ Shobo.”

“Yep.”  

“Appreciate the help, we’ll take it from here.” 

“What’s going to happen to them?” V asks, looking down at the girl in her lap, NCPD isn’t known for going the extra mile. Who’s to say they won’t just throw these people onto the streets without any help or put them in a detention center to avoid dealing with it?

“Not your concern, merc,” the other detective, cuts in, looking down his nose at V. 

“Excuse the fuck out of me for not trusting NCPD’s finest.” 

“We’ll take care of them,” Detective Ward smooths it over, “figure out where they’re from and get ‘em back home.” 

And maybe she’s naïve, maybe she’s exhausted, or maybe she’s a sucker for a pretty face. But, when he says that she believes him. His expression earnest and soft, Regardless, she knows the NCPD can help them more she can, more resources and pull. Just a matter of if they actually choose to use them. V gently shifts the child off her lap, who looks up at her with wide sleepy eyes. 

“I gotta go now, honey, but the detectives are gonna help get you home now, okay?” 

The little girl nods, still a hint of fear in her eyes as V stands up, as much as she’d love to stay with and protect her. V’s no guardian and can’t get the girl home safe. She watches as Detective Ward stoops down to a knee, getting as close as eye level with the girl as he can, though still nowhere close. 

“Hey, kiddo, my name’s River, what’s yours?” 

“Stephanie…” 

V leaves on that, hearing the soft way the detective speaks to the child, the sound of it bringing the merc a bit of comfort. There’s another Kusanagi motorcycle, that clearly belongs to one of the now dead Tyger Claws, it has a full tank and she climbs on top of it. An old rock station blaring on it as she pulls away from the scene. 

The wind whips around her as she rides through the Night City roads, there are more scanner jobs, always are. But she doesn’t take it, thoughts pinging around her skull. Shipping containers filled with corpses, all forgotten names and people, who the world will never mourn or stop for. Mercs drop like flies everyday, her and Jackie just a part of the numbers. But life moves on without them, will move on without her. 

She guns the engine faster and faster.

A monster in her head, a psychopath who tried to put her head through a window. A timebob with a face and name. And one day, if she doesn’t stop it, she’ll be him. V… Aidan… will be nothing but a fading memory. A name that use to belong to the new body Johnny makes his fifty year comeback in. And he’ll do whatever he wants, hurt whoever he wants, because as much as Vik and Misty tell V she survived… she didn’t.  Johnny survived. because short of a bullet in her brain, he’ll actually get a second chance. She won’t. All V did was get a time extension, a chance to postpone her date with death.  

She pushes the bike to go faster, heavy on the throttle. 

And she wishes she’d just met her end. Being dead is easier than dying. She wants it done, to just be gone, to not be afraid. To not be in terror of the ghost wreaking havoc in her skull. To not spend six months questioning if a headache is caffeine induced or her memories being erased. To not be stuck in this limbo of knowing she’s going to be gone and forgotten, to just be there by now. 

She barely manages to take a curve in time, but doesn’t slow down. 

Dead people don’t have to deal with their feelings. Don’t have to grieve. Don’t have to face the family left behind after their best friend dies. Don’t have to carry this pain. Don’t have to-

 We lost everything

We had to pay the price

Yeah we lost everything

We had to pay the price

 And his voice is like a bomb going off in her head, all at once trying to stop and turn, but she’s going too fast. Gnashing metal and crushing pain, she tastes blood as she’s sent flying forward. A thud of impact as her body hits the road; gravel and asphalt grinding across her skin as momentum carries her across the ground. 

The world stops for a moment. V doesn’t know if she’s in the road, on a sidewalk. If she’ll be ran over. She doesn’t care. The merc lays there, bruised lungs aching with each breath, skin road rashed. Blood pours from her nose, iron clinging to her tongue. Her nose may be broken. She just stares up at the sky, the towering neon lights of the city buildings. And if she strains her exhaustion blurred vision, she thinks she can see a star or two pricking through the dark of night. 

‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.'

It’s an old quote from someone she can’t remember and she’s not even sure where she ever heard it, is she even the one who heard it? How deep are his memories embedded in her own at this point?

She can hear traffic driving by, so she’s probably landed off the road, no one concerned for her. No one stopping or checking on her, just another corpse on the streets of Night City. A forgotten nobody, all she’ll ever be and all she ever was. 

 I see your eyes, i know you see me

You're like a ghost how you're everywhere

I am your demon never leaving

 V groans, catching the sound of the stolen broken motorcycle still croaking out that asshole’s music. The lyrics of it taunting her; like over fifty years ago Johnny wrote those lyrics just as a fuck you to her right now. But something lurks in the back of her mind, the knowledge that that’s by no means true. Murky memories of a freckled blonde netrunner flickering through the merc’s mind. 

She clambers back up on her feet, taking in the lights and vending machines around her. Blood still clinging to her lips and chin as she looks around her. On the street, a Kiroshi ad shining blue light on her, some blue haired model showing off her new optics. Across the road painted across the side of an old clothing store in red and blue; the Samurai band logo. The flaming oni demon with skin ripped off to show chrome beneath; just there, mocking her. She flips off the graffiti. 

V’s out of her weird brewed concoction, even after so many times of topping it off. No more coffee or energy drinks on her. And she’s not sure she wants that anymore. Wants something stronger, that doesn’t keep her going, but just clouds her mind. The merc stumbles her way into the nearest liquor store and buys herself a bottle of bourbon. She barely catches the look of concern on the cashier’s face before she leaves with the booze in hand. 

She takes heavy swigs of it as she meanders down the city streets, swallowing the burn of it and welcoming the fuzziness it puts in her mind. Avoiding it all and throwing herself into jobs has gotten her nowhere but exhausted, so she drowns the feelings in alcohol, the taste of blood and bourbon heavy on her tongue. She wanders down neon lit streets, not even sure where she’s going or why, steadily draining the bottle as she goes. 

The lights become blurrier, a pleasant warmth buzzing under her skin as she walks, worries unable to find her through the cloud of alcohol. And she’s not sure how far she goes or where she’s ended up, stumbling down a street, bottle half drunk.

“V?!” 

She turns, nearly tripping over her own feet, when someone calls her name. And through the blur of booze and lights dancing around her vision, she sees Cece. The older woman looking at her with something between horror and concern, wide brown eyes and furrowed brows. 

“Holy shit, are you okay?” 

Cece rushes towards the bloody drunk merc. A tender hand reaches out to cup V’s face, but she stops it, wrapping her fingers around the older woman’s wrist. She doesn’t want it, the gentle comforting touch. A kind gesture better suited for someone else, not meant for someone soaked in blood with alcohol and crimson on her tongue. 

“Mmm...I, I’m fine,” V slurs her words, unable to sign with one hand on Cece and the other wrapped around her bottle. 

The older woman pulls her hand from V’s grasp, the merc not missing the traces of blood she’s left on Cece’s skin. If she cares, if she minds the filthy touch, Cece says nothing about it just looking at V for a moment, like she’s looking at a wounded animal. 

“You went quiet for a while, there’s some suit who keeps coming to the diner, asking about you, V… Did something happened? Ar-are you drunk?” She sputters for a moment when she notices the bottle in V’s hand, maybe catches a whiff of bourbon on the merc’s breath. 

“No..not your concern,” V signs now, hands slow and messy, struggling to make the words she needs. 

V turns to leave, this whole mess isn’t Cece’s problem. Cece and her barely even know each other outside of sex. The last thing V needs to do is dump trauma or bullshit on her, let alone drag her into the angry hornets nest that is Arasaka. V had only just thought of that, if Arasaka comes looking for her. She takes another swig of bourbon as she staggers across the grimey sidewalk, hoping to drown her newest anxiety. 

“V, please,” Cece turns V around, grabbing the mercs arms and forcing eye contact, “I don’t know what’s going on but you can talk to me, I wanna help.” 

Glassy gray eyes stare into gold, V just looking up at Cece for a moment. A distraction, that’s all V wants, all she’ll accept in the moment. Work, drinking, hell even helping Barry is all a grab for a distraction; anything to numb her and take her away from her pain. And maybe, her booze blurred brain suggests, Cecelia can distract V the way she always has before. Anything to not think. 

V pushes forward, standing on her toes to meet Cece’s lips. She presses in, tries to shove her clumsy tongue into the older woman’s mouth. The once honeyed tongue now tastes of bourbon and blood. V is shoved back, nearly falling over in her drunken state, Cece pushing her away to break the kiss before it could truly begin. 

The merc blinks, staring at the older woman. Cecelia’s face scrunched up in a grimace, V’s blood now on her lips, cringing at the cling of iron on her skin. The younger woman looks down, unable to meet Cecelia’s gaze now, ashamed to be so disgusting. To have left her filth and grime on another’s tongue. 

V turns away and begins to rush off again, face hot with a drunken flush and embarrassment. What the fuck is wrong with her? Why did she do that? Despite it, she can hear the click of footsteps chasing after her. Cecelia would be better off leaving the merc alone, would be better off if V had never stumbled into her life, even if only for sex. Everyone would have been better off before V stepped into their lives, the thought makes her throat tighten. 

“V, please, at least let me help you home, you can’t just stumble around drunk!” 

“Why the fuck not!?” V turns around and screams, blood coated spit flying from her mouth. Why can’t Cecelia just walk away?  

The two are left staring at each other for another moment. Cece’s eyes wide as she tries to work through her brain for a response, something to say. 

“Tonight we return with breaking news, as more information is released in regards to the death of Arasaka CEO, Saburo Arasaka.” 

A newscast catches the merc’s attention, tv screens facing out towards the street through a store front window. That stupid corporate sack of shit’s name drawing her in, a news anchor shuffles through his papers. 

“Yorinobu Arasaka has come forward with more information regarding his father’s death at Konepki Plaza. The identities of two suspected perpetrators have been confirmed to be that of mercenary Jackie Welles and a netrunner known only as T-Bug.” 

V’s breath is knocked from her lungs as the faces of her friends are flashed across the screen. Bug’s a crisp clear image of her face, expression stoic. Jackie’s is a mugshot where he has a bruised face and is grinning at the camera. The two exactly as she remembers them, her now gone crew shown on tv screen across the city, blamed for Saburo’s death. 

“The two edgerunners are believed to have been hired by a corporation to carry out the assassination, but Yorinobu has yet to disclose or point any figures regarding which of Arasaka’s enemies may have carried out this plot. Both Welles and T-Bug were confirmed dead. But, there is an unidentified third accomplice believed to have been on the scene when Saburo Arasaka was assassinated. Yorinobu has yet to release this individual's identity or footage from Konpeki, choosing for Arasaka to handle the incident internally for the time being.” 

A hand squeezes V’s shoulder, her own grip tightening around the bourbon bottle. 

“That’s… your friend, Jackie, isn’t it?” 

And she throws the bottle against the window. Unable to smash through the bulletproof glass, the bottle breaks first fragments scattering and bourbon streaking down the window. Cece instinctively jumps back, releasing V from her grasp. 

“Jesus christ, what the fuck, V?!” 

But the merc is already running down the street, slower than she’d be sober, but still faster than most. And she runs and she runs and she runs. She doesn’t know what for and to what, but she just needs to move, to go, to do something. V runs until her heart is hammering in her chest, pressing tight against her rib cage. Already bruised lungs struggling to take in steady breaths. Her feet ache, blisters forming in her boots as she finally slows down. 

And when she catches her second wind, limb still heavy with both ache and booze, she looks around. On the side of the roadway, a main stretch through The Glen, something she knows from the column of red and pink lights across from her. She knows where she is, where she wanted to go, whether she even fully knew. Where it began six months ago. 

She looks over the edge of the road way where the guard rail breaks off, overlooking the grimy little alley to Ember’s parking lot. The dumpster closed below, just like it was for her first job, stealing the high class car. V swings herself over, none too gracefully, hitting the dumpster and sliding off of it onto her back. She curses beneath her breath, blaming the alcohol, before she finally gets back up to her feet. 

A man waiting under an awning barely looks up from his phone as she stumbles past him, world still shifting around her. She walks around and to that elevator, hitting the button then stepping inside before it begins to rumble. And it’s stupid, she knows. It won’t change anything, won’t get anything back. But she just wants to be there, to stand in the place she first met him, the moment that changed so much for her. 

And the doors open before her and even after all this time, she knows the path by heart, walking down the halls to the double doors. The parking lot is empty tonight, only the glow of vending machines and the VIP parking spots. 

Her footfalls echo through the closed parking garage, making her way to the neon spot where that car was parked. And she lays down there, bathed in blue light, cold of cement biting at her skin through her clothes. 

The place where they met, where he put a gun to her head and they were forced down on the ground by police, where they broke away and took the car back to Padre. And he invited her back to his home, took her in like a stray, no concern or worry as he offered her food and shelter.  

Maybe if he hadn’t, he’d still be here. Maybe if he’d just gone ahead and blown her brains out that night, they’d all be better off. Dex wouldn’t have shelled out the job to them, Jackie would still be minor leagues but he’d be alive. Mama Welles would have her son, Misty her soulmate, and Vik his friend. Everyone happier without the merc mucking up their lives. And she wouldn’t be here either, wouldn’t be dealing with it. 

V takes out her phone, instinctively pulling up his number. She wants to talk to him, just one more time, she just wants to talk to him. It rings and rings and rings, she knows he won’t answer, knows he can’t. But… there’s no harm in wishful thinking, is there? 

“Hey, this is Jackie.” 

Her breath catches in her throat, his voice a shock to her system, a sound caught in her throat. Say something, say something. 

“Can’t come to the holo right now, leave me a message and I’ll catch ya later.” 

And the machine beeps, giving her the chance to leave a voicemail, because he’s gone. She knows that, she does, but she just… 

“Jackie….I… this.. Is so stupid,” she chides herself and hangs up. 

She’s half drunk in an abandoned parking lot, trying to talk to ghosts. Practically one herself. She sits for a few more moments, trying slowly to piece her mind back together, if only for a moment. It’s obviously not working, so she just gives up and stands back up. Already knowing where she plans to go back, tracing back pieces of their history, if only to find peace for a moment. 

V stumbles her way back to the alley way, though her movements are a little steadier than before. Rather than dragging her aching feet all the way to Kabuki, she finds the nearest NCART station stop, thankful for the twenty-four hour transit. 

The train car is mostly empty, a few people shooting her odd looks as she sits down, staring at the ground. Her eyelids heavy after days of constant activity and caffeine. The soft rumble of the transit starting to feel like she’s being rocked in a cradle, lulled into sleep. 

A familiar click of boots make her eyes snap open, not even realizing they closed. Brown boots shuffling in front of her vision, glitching like an old tape. She digs her nails into the back of her head, refusing to look up as the figure sits down in the seat across from her. Legs spreading wide and shamelessly as he takes up as much space as he pleases. Both in the subway train and her head.  

Heart pounding and breaths getting shorter, she tries to think through it, that the pills can’t be wearing off. When did she last take one? Might be seeing things, could be someone else, could be her mind playing tricks on her. 

“If only you were so lucky, Samurai,” her head shoots up at the sound of his voice, looking at him finally, “drunk and bloody on a train, wondering if you lost your mind, be funny if you weren’t so damn pathetic.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, fuck!” 

People are staring as she tears through her pockets, hands shaking, the words garbled in her throat. Can’t breathe, she can’t even fucking breathe as she rips the bottle of pills from her pockets. Her heart is going to explode in her chest, her lungs going to shrivel up without a strong enough breath of air, her body on fire. Shaky hands rip the cap from the bottle. 

“Wait a fuckin’ min-” 

His yell is cut off as she chokes the pill down dry, jumping up from her seat, the train rolling to its next stop and she runs out, tripping down the last of the steps. She nearly pukes as she hits her knees, but forces herself to swallow the bile, she can’t afford to puke the blockers back up. She stays there on the ground, holding herself, reminding herself to breathe, sucking in the cold city air. It's filthy with smog but at the moment it feels godsent. 

Eventually her breathing is better, her body feels cooler, the air chilling her sweaty skin, heart rate evening out. She slowly stands up, gravel and dirt still stuck in already blood stained hands. The merc finds her way to where she was going, the rockerboy in her head not ruining her goal. She needs to see it. 

She reaches the Kabuki Central stop and sucks in a breath of air when she sees the bright red neon sight, lighting the street way around the door. The No-Tell Motel, the place where they died. Or maybe she didn’t die until she hit the landfill, but she thinks it was here, when Dex blew her brains out across the carpet. Where Jackie bled out in the back of a Delamain. 

V goes around to the back gateway, where the Delamain pulled in. She sits at the top of the stairs for a moment, just looking at where the taxi had been parked. Where she lost him, next to the defaced Night City logo. All his dreams of reaching the major leagues, of having the money and street cred to keep his family safe, to be a success story who made it out of Heywood. Broken. Sent spiraling down when he got too close to the sun and the wax around his feathers melted, Icarus sent plummeting down to his end. 

And she wishes so much she could have convinced him not to do it, could have kept him from getting to this point. But a part of her knows she probably couldn’t have. A part of her knows that if he were in her shoes, sent plummeting down but somehow still able to stand, he would have climbed back on his feet and tried it all over again. But she’s not as strong as him… 

V gets back on her feet, ready to move on to the next part, where she died. Needs to see it, needs to face it. She slips into the motel and up the stairs, memories of that night flickering in her mind. Staggering through these neon lit halls and red stairs in bloody Jinguji clothes, face still wet with tears and rain, convinced she’d see her payday and live the major league life if only for Jackie. 

She walks down that long stretch of hallway and reaches the room, 204, where Dex Deshawn shot her. It’s vacant, but she hasn’t paid for the room. Remembering even just bits of what Bug taught her, V’s able to hack the door, watching it slide open. Half expecting Dex’s bodyguard to be waiting behind the beaded curtain. Of course, he isn’t. 

The room is just as she remembered, the standard sleazy No-Tell Motel room. Neon red light over a grimy bed, a dirty blanket thrown on a stained leather couch. And near the bed and bathroom, she sees it. Red now rusted and stained to a crusty brown, her blood. Where she was shot. Where she died, they haven’t even bothered to clean her blood from the floor. And that’s all she would have been. Another stain in a carpet. Another life snuffed out in Night City with no one to mourn her. 

She opens the bathroom door and doesn’t even have to step in to see the mess she left is still there. Brown formerly crimson blood stained across the broken mirror, sink marked in rusted red brown handprints. V sits down on the bed, her blood stains in view, she holds her head and she cries again. She cries for Jackie, for Bug, for herself. She sobs and she lets out just a bit more of her pain. And the sobs die down, as they always do at some point. The tears run dry and the sob become more choked. 

There’s one more place she needs to see, she decides, standing from the bed. It’s a longer way out, but she needs to see where she was left. Where her body would have rotted away with no one giving it a second thought. She leaves the hotel, no even bothering to shut the motel door behind her. 

V doesn’t bother with the NCART again, as far away as the landfill is and scared of seeing him again. She knows the train didn’t trigger it, but she just, doesn’t want it. She’s sobered up, a fair amount, maybe still a bit tipsy. Its dumb, a bad move ayway, but she busts the window out of a parked MaiMai, little blue box of a car. Clears the glass off the driver’s seat and breaks into it. 

The keys in it, she drives it and drives, careening through the traffic of Night City. Watching as the neon lights start to fade away as she hits the outskirts. Glowing billboards advertising become scarcer and scarcer, noise filtering away. Until there’s nothing but craggy rocks and stretches of desert land. 

And the distance hills become made of trash as she comes closer and closer to her destination, driving past a little gas station. She parks where the little dirt pathways through the landfill meet the road. V climbs out of the driver’s seat and starts walking, boots sloshing through the mud puddles and crushing grass underfoot as she walks through mountains of trash. 

An orange glow catches her eye as she starts to near a clearing, a trashcan fire still burning in the night. And as she reaches the clearing, she sees his body, Dex’s corpse still laid out where she shot him. Through the moonlight and the light of the fire, she can see bullet wound in his head, the purple in his skin where blood has settled. 

No one’s come to find him. No one’s collected him. He blew her brains out and left her to rot in a landfill, now here he is. Karma or something, she thinks. One of the best fixers in Night City, major leagues, rich as hell and meant to be their ticket to success. But he was thrown out and forgotten just like anyone else. 

She gently kicks his body, not even angry anymore, she’s not sure she has the energy to be. And what good would it do her, she already took the man’s life, what more can she do. He’s suffered the very fate he tried to damn her too, not even knowing what he did to her in the end. Dex was desperate, scared of what would happen if he was connected to her and the heist. He had no way of knowing the chip would do this.  

His body shifts under the push of her boot, limp and useless. But she sees a glint, his gun. A gaudy little thing of black and gold, his name emblazoned across it. She picks it up, seeing the blood on it’s barrel and wonders if her brains splattered on Dex when he shot her. 

She takes it with her as she goes to sit on a nearby rusty fridge, holding it in her hand, feeling the weight of it. V touches the bullet pendant around her neck, a bullet fired from this very gun. She wipes the crusted blood off it’s barrel, chipping it off with her fingernail. Maybe it was all fate, people aren’t meant to come back like that, not like this. 

Her mind returns to what she told Misty, about blowing her brains out. The older woman telling her she’d kill two souls, if aimed right, it’d kill Johnny too. And maybe that’s not a bad thing… He showed his colors, when he attacked her. If that’s who he is, who he chooses to be. She’s killed people for less. 

And isn’t it better than suffering? No dragging it out, no slowly losing control, no watching herself turn into him. She’d go out on her own terms, no one else's. No Arasaka’s, not Johnny’s, not her dad’s; her’s. 

A quick shot, a jolt of pain, then she’d be gone like that. Her and Johnny.  She wraps her lips around the barrel of the gun, the taste of metal and dirt on her tongue. Feels the weight of it in her mouth and clacks her teeth against it, biting down on it. Her finger on the trigger, one twitch of movement away from it all ending. From slipping away into the end and never dealing with this.

Do it.

Her finger doesn’t move. 

Do it. 

Nothing. 

Do it. 

And she’s crying, because it’s all she does, unable to make the final move. Unable to pull the trigger, she pulls the gun from her lips. And she holds her face as she cries again, she’s sick of this, sick of feeling this way. Sick of hurting, of being a nothing, of knowing she’s going to fade away and be forgotten like so many others. Of knowing she doesn’t matter and never will. That she’s going to become someone else, that she doesn’t and never will have place in this world, maybe was never meant to. 

Only when the sun rises so does she, a notification on her optics that another payment from the NCPD has come in. Still a few grand short of paying off Vik without cutting her own throat in terms of cash, maybe she’d be better off killing herself that way, she wonders… But a part of her would prefer Dex’s gun, gone the way she was meant to, meeting her fate head on. 

Head aching, foggy with exhaustion, but no longer buzzed with alcohol. She has a text about the fight in Kabuki and she still needs to get money from Wakako for the Dorsett gig; her last one with Jackie before the heist. She wipes the tears from her face and tucks Dex’s gun in her waistband, for later, meet her fate another day, she decides leaving the landfill. 

Death will wait for her, it’s done just that for years, albeit not always patiently. They got a date set, according to Vik, six months out. She’ll jump to meet the end sooner, she thinks, find it on her own terms. But for now, she’s not quite ready. 

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

I'm getting a haircut today and I can picture my hairstylists disappointed face when she sees that I bleached and dyed it at home again 🙃

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Pink and sparkly 

A Mayans Based Story

Adult content

Master List

Chapter Fourteen 

I felt myself again for the first time in days. The bruises and marks had faded to just a memory. Bishop and I were getting closer. He opened up more about club stuff. He seemed more relaxed now that he didn't have to hide half of who he was from me. I knew Bishop the man, I loved him, but seeing more of Bishop, El Presidente of the Mayans MC, only deepened my feelings. 

I slip into a pair of jeans and a top, finally able to show my bruise-free arms again, then make my way into the kitchen. I smile at the note left taped to my box of cereal, "Bacon and toast on a plate in the microwave. Pack a bag, meet me at the clubhouse. I still owe you that ride." He knew exactly what I needed. I eat then pack a small bag of essentials. With a smile on my face, I head to the clubhouse. 

Romero Bros Scrap Yard had become a refuge. I loved being there. The Mayans were family.  I stop my SUV looking at the sign for a while. 

“What you staring at Malibu?” I jump at the sound of Angel’s voice outside my window.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” I pull myself from the thoughts I’d lost myself in. “I was just about to go inside. Bishop here?” 

“That a trick question? Where the fuck else would he be?” He opens the door of my SUV glancing at the passenger’s seat.

“I didn’t bring you any food, but if you want to grab my bag it’s in the back,” I push my sunglasses up on my head and walk up the steps inside.  EZ brings me a Diet Coke as soon as I sit down. “Thanks.” My eyes fix on Bishop as I pop the top of the can, “So where are you taking me?” 

“Up north. Club’s got a meeting with SAMCRO,” he said. My smile faded a little.  It would be a business trip. I was looking forward to spending some alone time with Bishop.

“Ok, I needed to meet with them I just didn’t think it would be so soon,” I responded. 

“Reaper has a cabin in the woods that they’re giving to us for a few days,” he added. “You good with getting a little fresh air with me, querida?”  I push my hair from my face, “I think I can be good with that.” I lean forward and press my lips to his. 

An hour later my arms are wrapped around Bishop’s waist and we’re riding in formation north to the little town of Charming. It was late into the night when we stopped in front of the Stockton Clubhouse. 

“This does not look like a quiet cabin in the woods, babe,” I look up at the building as I climb off his bike.

“We’re staying here the night,” Bishop responded, “Meeting with the Crow in the morning then vacation in the woods.”

“I can handle that. As much fun as hanging out with a bunch of guys is,” I slide my hand in his, “I prefer dedicating all my attention to a singular guy.” We’re greeted by a group of rowdy Mayans from the Stockton charter. 

“You remember Oso,” Bishop introduces me to the charter president. 

“From Vegas,” I give him a smile, “nice to see you again.” 

“Welcome to our clubhouse,” he responds leading us inside to a party that had been going for long before we got there. “Make yourselves at home.” 

“Thank you,” I glance around looking for a bathroom. 

“Down that hall,” Bishop points, “and to the left. Prospect will bring your bag if you want to get cleaned up.” I nod and press my lips against his cheek heading in the direction he had pointed. 

After washing off a layer of road dirt and touching up my makeup I head back out. I search the crowd of leather-clad men and scantily clad women for a familiar face.  Angel was occupied by a bleach blonde whose boobs were probably bigger than her IQ.  Coco and Gilly were equally distracted. 

“You want something to drink?” I almost jump out of my skin hearing EZ’s voice behind me.

“You scared the shit outta me,” I take a few breaths to slow the rapid beating of my heart. “I think I need one. A beer I guess. Why are you serving people here?” I quirk a brow and take a seat at the bar.  He points to the prospect patch on his chest. “Where’s Bishop?”

“At the table with Oso,” EZ responds after popping the cap of the beer, motioning toward an open set of double doors.

“Club stuff?” I swivel around staring at the open doors.

“Just talking I think,” he responded. 

“I think they’re about ready for another round, don’t you prospect?” I walk behind the bar and help him open a few beers for the guys at the table. EZ carried four while I managed mine along with two other bottles of beer.  I walk nervously to the door. Letting EZ enter first to set beers in front of Hank, Taza, and Riz. I straighten up and walk confidently with a smile then place a beer on the table for Oso and rest my hand on Bishop’s shoulder as I set his beer down.

“Me alegra que tu princesa irlandesa no sea demasiado buena para servirte,” Oso says with a chuckle.  

“I live to serve,” I respond glancing around the room. “Is this a men’s only meeting or can I join?” Oso nods in the direction of the chair to Bishop’s right.

“We’re just catching up, querida,” Bishop says as I take a seat next to him. He takes a pull from his cigarette while placing his free hand possessively on my thigh. 

“Don’t let me get in the way of your business,” I bring my beer to my lips and take a long drink. 

“I want you here close, amor,” Bishop’s rings tickle my inner thigh. 

“Not going anywhere,” I bite my lip as he inches his fingers higher. Dangerously higher. My breath hitches as he rubs me at the junction of my thighs.  Almost daring me to give away what he was doing. He kept the conversation going with Oso as he teases me. I almost choke on my beer as he increases the pressure. 

"Are you ok, querida?" He asks as though he has no idea what he's doing to me. 

"I'm fine, just went down the wrong way, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I need to call it a night," I stand trying to compose myself before heading in the direction of the clubhouse apartment. 

"Pussy grabbing is not very presidential," I text Bishop once closing the door behind me.  

"Depends on the president,"  he responded. I can't help but chuckle at the message. 

"Are you coming to bed soon? Or should I get started without you?" I drop my phone on the bed as I slip out of my jeans and top.

"By all means get started without me, I want you nice and wet when I join you," I could almost see the smirk behind the words. 

"If I make myself cum before you get here, I'm going to sleep and you have to wait." I hit send and climb under the covers, my fingertips ghost over my inner thighs, inching higher. I let out a soft moan as my fingers run lightly over my center. The satin already damp from Bishop's teasing. I lift my hips sliding my panties down. I was excited hearing all the noise from the other room and the possibility that they would hear me or…

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. I raise up on my elbows, I didn't expect Bishop to come back so soon. "Come in," I call out as I continue moving my fingers gently over my moistened lips. "I didn't think you'd want me to cum without you." 

The light flipped on and my face went crimson. 

"Yo, Malibu," It wasn't Bishop standing there. Angel froze in place staring at me for the longest second of my life. I chucked a pillow at him then he swiftly turns around as I scramble to yank a T-shirt over my head and pull my jeans up over my hips. 

I turn back facing him after making sure I was completely covered.  “What are you doing here?” 

"Sorry I… shit…Gilly broke a bottle and the glass is in his hand, need you to take a look at it," he stumbled over his words seeing how embarrassed I was he laughs. "I didn't see anything, Malibu. Well not much." I push past him as I grab my medical bag, mortified. 

"Where's Gilly?" I breathe trying to return the natural color to my face. 

"At the bar," he responded. I walk quickly across the floor not caring at the moment how disheveled I looked. "You alright, sweetheart?" Taking Gilly's hand in mine as I climb into the barstool next to his. The glass was deep. But superficial. He just needed a few stitches. 

“You might have problems gripping until it heals,” I wrap his hand with gauze.  “You’ll want to get a tetanus shot when we get home if it’s been a while since you’ve gotten one.” 

“I’ll do that, mamá, ” Gilly takes a hit of a joint that was being passed. 

“Anyone else need to be stitched up while I’m up?” I ask with a yawn as I clean up the mess.  

"Go back to bed, querida," Bishop says while taking the trash from me, "I'll join you soon." He gives a soft peck to my temple. I nod. 

I was tired from the ride and the late hour. But I couldn't get back to sleep once I got back into bed. My brain wouldn't shut off. 

I'm stirred from my thoughts by another knock at the door, "Who is it?" I'd learned my lesson even though now I lay in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. 

"Me," Bishop says from the other side. 

"Come in," I respond. The door opens and he struts in. 

"I understand you had a surprise visitor," his face stoic as he shrugs out of his kutte. 

"You mean Angel?" I watch his movements trying to asses him. I couldn't tell if he were actually mad about it. "I thought he was you when he knocked on the door," my cheeks flush, "he got an eyeful I'm sure. Even though he claims he didn't." 

He sits down on the edge of the bed beside me, his hand cups my face as his dark eyes fix on mine, "You're mine. Angel knows this. Even if he did, he didn't." I nod as he kisses my forehead. "Get some sleep, amor. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

---

The morning comes sooner than I would have liked it.  I was stirred awake by Bishop climbing from the bed. I let out a groan, “What time is it?”

“Almost seven,” he pushes my hair from my face and gives me a kiss.

“Why are you up so early?” my arms slide around his neck as I try to pull him back in bed with me. 

He smiles pulling me up with him, “Gotta get ready to head out to the Wahewa Reservation just outside of Charming. Meeting is set for ten. And it��s still about an hour’s ride from here.” 

I stumble to my feet not wanting to move from the warmth of the bed, “That’s today?” I rub my eyes trying to wake myself up. I knew I had to get myself together. There would be a shit ton of testosterone and I’d be the only woman there. On top of my normal tribe of Mexicans, there would be a club of white guys, and the remaining Irish Kings. 

“That’s today,” he grabs his shaving kit and carries it into the adjoining bathroom.  I hear him step into the shower before I muster up the energy to get my own toiletry bag and follow him into the bathroom. I stand at the sink brushing my teeth and wash my face.  

As I dry my face I feel Bishop’s hand wrap around my arm pulling me into the shower with him. I giggle as my shirt clings to my body, “I’m still dressed.” 

“Let’s change that, querida,” his lips crash against mine after he pulls up my soaked shirt and tosses it on the shower floor.  I groan into the kiss, feeling his hands explore my now exposed breasts, thumbs circling my hardened nipples. My fingers cling to his sides as I feel the heat building inside me. His hands move to peel my panties, soaked from the water and his touch, from my hips. With a squeeze of my thigh I lift it up, hooking it high around his hip. Bishop trails his lips down my neck, sucking along the trail of water as he drives hard and deep inside me. “Oh, god,” I cry out clinging to him to keep from falling. And I was so close already. Each time he drives deeper inside my heat, hitting the exact spot.  My body tightens around him and I shudder.  The water ran cold before he cried out his own release. A release we both needed. 

It wasn't often that we had a quickie in the morning, Bishop preferred to take his time with me. Making me quake several times before he finished. 

His arms wrap around me as I shiver, “Get dressed, hermosa. Need to get on the road soon.” 

A half-hour and a cup of coffee later, I swing my leg over Bishop’s bike, it felt so natural there. My body molded to his as we travel down the California highway north. We made it to the reservation right on time. The spot was lined with reaper marked Harleys and a black SUV.  It was daunting. I should have been scared.  But as I walked into the barn with Bishop on my left, Hank on my right, followed by the rest of the Mayans MC, I was empowered. 

“Packer,” I give the San Bernardino president a peck on the cheek, “Thank you for arranging the meet.”

“No problem,” he leads me toward a tall man with scars on his face and a president’s patch on his chest. I extend my hand to the man, “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Telford.”

“Aye,” he responds looking me over.  I didn’t know what he expected but I stood my ground. 

“Right,” I stand in the center of the group of intimidating men.  “I know you’re used to a firm hand moving the process.  I don’t think much has to change now that that hand has a better manicure. What my father and Conner have arranged with SAMCRO,” I glance back to Telford, “will continue as long as it continues to work.  We will continue to supply the cartel with packaging and delivery done by the Reaper.” 

“We’ll have ta take it to da table,” Telford responds, “but I think we can make dat work.”

“I have no interest in changing how you run your clubs,” my lips curve into a smile, “metrosexuals don’t do a thing for me. As long as we all continue making a shit ton of money. I’m good.”

The barn echoed with various sounds of agreement. Things were going better than expected. Motorcycle Clubs had a reputation for toxic masculinity. But I never saw it from the Mayans. And so far the Sons didn't display it either. Not that I'd given them cause. The system was working, no need to change it. 

"Though next time we have a get-together, Mr. Telford," I wrinkle my nose, "can we  do it in a place that smells less like horse shit?" 

"Aye," the Scott responds, "I t'ink we can handle dat. Call me Chibs." I offer him a smile in return, "I think I can do that." 

"Der is some samples ye can bring back to da cartel," Conner points to a wooden crate, "new merchandise from da Russians." One of his men opens the box with a crowbar. There were grenade launchers and RPGs and Glocks.

“Nothing pink with sparkles?” I ask with a grin.

“I’ll make sure ta include dat wit ya next order,” Conner says, “ya da would be proud o’ ya.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and a hug.  I hadn’t seen Conner since I was in high school. 

“Thank you,” I wipe away a stray tear. “I need a shot of Jameson before I start crying.”

[joonsrack]

+PAIRING: Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: SFW, slow burn, ficlet (do people use that term anymore?) mini series, it’s not exactly fluff but it’s soft i guess.

+THE ONE WHERE SEOKJIN IS A PART TIME COP AND A FULL TIME NAMJOONSITTER SERIES: Part I | Part II | Part III

+WORD COUNT: ~3k

+SUMMARY:

“You know hyung, that’s why even though you've got that face, you're still single; you can’t see a good opportunity even when it moves next door.”

“Excuse me?” Seokjin says, feeling pretty insulted. He chose to be single, single didn’t chose him.

+WARNINGS: Very brief mention of sexual harassment, abuse of italics.

Awkward is not strong enough a word to describe how meeting Namjoon in their building is.

How do you even act around your attractive new next door neighbour on which you pulled a gun on your first meeting? Jimin is laughing forever, the asshole.

Plus, Jimin keeps telling him he needs to take him out, to 'apologize', but the fucker has already guilt tripped a ride in the police cruiser out of him (without the lights, thank you very much), what more is he supposed to do?

“You know hyung, that’s why even though you've got that face, you're still single; you can’t see a good opportunity even when it moves next door.”

“Excuse me?” Seokjin says, feeling pretty insulted. He chose to be single, single didn’t chose him.

“Oh come on, you’re life’s prime example that a good face doesn’t equate having game.” Jimin says, and finds himself two second away from needing a new best friend and roof.

“I don’t know how you came to the conclusion that I had any interest for Namjoon—”

“Hyung, you wrote his name instead of yours on your last report.”

“I was distracted.”

“You downloaded all of their songs even though you despise rap songs.”

“My taste can evolve!”

“You looked him up on facebook and instagram without following or sending a friend request.”

“I—” he starts, but pauses.

Yeah, that last one made it pretty obvious.

A god given opportunity presents itself, and even Seokjin can admit this must be faith. Or fatality. He’s hoping it’s the first one.

He’s coming back home, arms loaded with groceries, and almost turns around and tuck tails once he catches sight of a tall shadow standing in the hallway.  He freezes when he hears the tell tale sound of metal snapping,

followed by a low groan that will haunt his dreams forever. He sneaks a look over his shoulder to catch Kim Namjoon, head in his hands, looking… very blond. And despondent. But blond, hi. Gone is the dark silver, his hair bleached almost white.

Seokjin takes a deep calming breath, hoping this will not go as badly as he knows it will. It’s not like it can go worse than their first meeting, so he can at least find joy in that.

“Hello there,” he says, taking slow steps towards the man.

Namjoon takes one look at him, then looks away, avoiding his eyes as red blossoms on his cheeks.

“Before you pull out your gun; as we have already established, I live here, so this is not me trying to break in.”

Ouch.

Seokjin chuckles to cover up the fact that he just got served.

As he gets closer, he spies something in Namjoon’s hand, and; yep, that’s half a key. He could bet his handsome face that the second half is stuck in the lock.

“Looks like you’ll have to call someone for that one.” Seokjin says, approaching the man carefully like he’s a wounded animal. He definitely looks like he’s about to snap.

He’s dressed in all black, and Seokjin is not in uniform, so he indulges in a quick once over while the man is looking at anything but him. Black leather jacket, black jeans, black boots, making his new hair colour stand out even more. The bad boy look is strong with this one, although the knowledge he could probably spill a sippy cup ruins the image a bit.

“You could… call a locksmith and then wait for them at my place, with a cup of tea.” Seokjin tries, and let it be known that he’s got game; Park Jimin can go to hell.

Namjoon looks at him again, this time with a self deprecating smile on his face that breaks Seokjin’s heart in a thousand pieces. There’s dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t had a good night of sleep in a few days.

“If you hold your stuff dear, you better leave me outside.” He says, taking out his cellphone and sending a quick text to someone.

Seokjin makes a quick inventory of every object and furniture currently in his living room, but can’t think of anything that would warrant leaving the blond man sitting duck in the hallway.

“If you just sit nice and tight on the couch, I’m sure I can find a plastic cup somewhere that you can’t break.”

Namjoon looks around, like he’s searching for a reason to say no, but his phone pings then, and he peeks at the incoming text.

“Shit.” He says. “Locksmith can’t make it for at least two hours. And I'm already late. Damnit.”

Seokjin decides to ignore the fact that Namjoon is on texting basis with his locksmith, balancing his groceries in one hand and unlocking the door with his other. He holds the door open, looking expectantly at Namjoon until the man takes the hint and steps hesitantly in his direction.

“Hope you’re insured.” Are his last words before he sets foot in Seokjin’s home.

He takes off his jacket —and who the hell wears a leather jacket in summer—and puts it on a hook, but the hook doesn’t hold and both fall to the ground.

Seokjin is very impressed; a very short second has yet to pass and the destruction has already begun.

“It was loose anyway.” he hurries to say at Namjoon’s blank expression. He grabs the jacket after putting the groceries away on the table and puts it on the back of a chair, then waits until Namjoon steps out of his usual black boots to lead him to the couch.

“It’s an interesting choice, black boots in summer.” He says, to break the silence and awkwardness.

“Steel toe” is the only answer he gets, and it actually makes a lot of sense. It also seems to be a sore subject, so he doesn’t ask about the leather jacket.

With Namjoon looking extremely stiff on his couch, like he’s trying to keep every muscle still, Jin leaves for a moment to put away the groceries and to try and find what he needs to make an accident-prone-person’s cup of tea. Well aware the man is most definitely not immune to spills, he ends up finding an old reusable ice tea Starbucks cup, needing a few minutes to locate the matching straw. He pours their drinks on ice and serves both of them an iced tea.

It’s summer, after all.

He drops the drink on the low table only to look up and realizes his guest is… fast asleep. His head is reclined against the back of the couch, his mouth hanging slack and emitting soft snores. The rest of his body looks locked tight even in his slumber, his hands stuck to his thighs with his legs straight. He looks like he’s used to sleeping without moving a muscle, which just mustn’t be nice. After looking at Namjoon’s sleeping form long enough to effectively feel like a creeper (the loose neck line of his t-shirt exposing a tantalizing amount of collarbone), he finds a small fleece blanket, his AC making the insides of his apartment pleasantly fresh but dangerous for uncovered throats.

As softly and quietly as he can, he covers Namjoon’s whole upper body with the blanket, only leaving his head poking out.

He looks proudly at his work after taking a step back, but the stupid smile on his face disappears once he realizes he just babied a grown ass man who he barely knows. Namjoon will probably think this is weird, right?

He’s tempted to take back the blanket to preserves his dignity, but risking the man waking up as he’s ripping it off him is not a position he wants to find himself in.

He settles for sitting on the other side of the couch, sipping at his glass quietly, trying to stop his eyes from wandering to the man’s sleeping form and failing pretty badly.

In the end, his glass empty and discarded on the coffee table, Namjoon’s even breathing ends up making his own lids feel heavy. It’s his first day off in a while, and the first few hours of it have been spent running around the city, so before he knows it, he’s joining the other man in dreamland.

“There’s a hot young man doing things to your neighbour’s door knob that will star in my wet dreams for and undetermined futu— Hyung, What the hell.” Is what Seokjin’s wakes up to.

He’s laying on his side, head pillowed on a nice and comfy surface that is sadly tensing up by the second, and that’s how Seokjin knows he will never be able to look at Namjoon in the eyes again.

He dares to crack an eye, and once he confirms his very pillowed head on Namjoon’s very thighs, he takes back everything he earlier thought.

How naive it was of him to believe he couldn’t do worse than their first meeting.

He uses every single muscle in his body to roll off the couch as fast as possible, his fight or flight response deeming it the quickest way to get off Namjoon’s lap. His body connect to the floor with a heavy thud, but not before knocking the coffee table hard enough to make Namjoon’s untouched drink inevitably topple off. His spill-proof solution proves itself insufficient as the lids pops open and the chilled tea explodes all over his chest, soaking his whole torso.

Wearing his thin and light pink summer shirt had seemed like such a good idea that morning, the sunny and clear sky promising a beautiful day. Now, as the fabric clings to his chest leaving nothing to the imagination, he curses the day he ever bought it.

As he lays still on the floor, cold liquid dripping off him and on the carpet, he takes a moment to regret every single decisions that lead him to this very moment. At the top of that list is of course, listening to Jimin’s advice. One day, he’ll take the time to think about how funny it is that every bad things that happened in his life can be linked back to that particular man.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is still staring from the and Namjoon is still perfecting his imitation of a statue on the couch.

Seokjin can’t see his face from his position on the floor, until the man reclines forward to look over the edge of the couch and down at him.

“First, abuse of firearm, and now sexual harassment? You've been a very exemplary police officer these past few weeks, Kim Seokjin-ssi.” He says, the only hint that he’s joking the small smirk stretching his lips. Seokjin covers his face in shame. “It’s always a relief to see that some people can embarrass themselves as much as me.”

Seokjin feels a warm hand on his forearm pulling it away from his face. He lets himself be pulled off the floor, Namjoon standing up with him as he helps him up.

“Hyung, cover your damn tiddies for Christ sake.”

“Shut up Taehyung.” Seokjin says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, feeling a faint blush dust his cheeks. “What are you even doing here?”. Namjoon, like a true gentleman, offers the blanket to him without a word.

“Dad told me mom told him Jimin told her you had a crush on your new-“ Taehyung doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Seokjin pounces on him, hands covering his mouth to shut him up, knowing very well where this story is leading. “Taehyung,” He says with an edge to his voice and a glint in his eyes, “-meet my neighbour, Kim Namjoon. He moved in a few weeks ago.” Realization crosses his brother’s features, and he looks apologetic for all of two second before he pushes the hands off his mouth. “So you might know who’s that delicious piece of man currently greasing up your knob?”

Namjoon looks a bit dumbfounded before he answers, uncertain. “Probably my locksmith? I wouldn’t use those exact words to describe his profession, though.” He shrugs.

“Would you happen to know his name? Current relationship status? Sexual orientation? Better yet, favourite colour? ” His younger brother says, hope blooming in his eyes.

“Huh.” Namjoon’s phone rings, saving him from the onslaught of questions. He checks who it is before answering, and a smile blooms on his face, his dimples hitting Seokjin straight in the guts.

“Hey! How's my baby?”

Seokjin’s heart stops and shatters at his feet; His baby.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, too busy spiralling down into self pity. Of course someone as attractive as Namjoon wouldn’t be single. Of course. He feels so stupid.

The phone call doesn’t last long, ending on a quick “see you in a few”, but it’s long enough for Seokjin to have sweared off love altogether and made a vow of celibacy, with very nice plans of moving to a desert island. He'll have so many cats.

“Soo, baby huh.” He says, barely containing the distaste in his voice. If Namjoon notices, he doesn’t show. He gives them both a shy smile, and Seokjin has had enough with this man. “Well, run along now, we wouldn’t want to hold you back too long, in case your baby gets impatient.”

Namjoon looks at him weirdly then, just catching on the tone of his voice. Nevertheless, he chuckles the awkwardness away before answering. “She’s kind of a diva I guess. And she always needs new stuff, quite the expensive girl that one.” Taehyung turns pitying eyes towards him.

Namjoon got himself a gold digger. He doesn’t even look like he has money.

“But she's the best ride there is.” Namjoon says, and Seokjin holds back a gag. T.M. goddamn. I. There’s a part of him that’s ready to cancel Namjoon for his apparent fuck boy personality. There’s also another part, one that is deeply buried inside of him, that gets a twisted sense of satisfaction from knowing that if that’s how Namjoon talks about the girl, she mustn’t be all that special to him. He’s a cop though, and an outspoken feminist, so he shuts that part up, ready himself for a nice lecture on respecting women and how to do it.

Taehyung beats him to it.

“That’s a very misogynist way to put it, mr. neighbour.”

“What?” Namjoon, says, looking confused. “How is it... misogynist to say I like to ride my bike?”

The word bike reverberate in the silence of the living room, Taehyung exchanging a look with Seokjin as the both of them realize the misunderstanding, leaving Namjoon looking nonplussed.

“Bike, as in motorcycle?” His brother asks.

Namjoon looks between the two of them, slowly putting the pieces together.

“Yes? What did you think I was talking about.... ah. Yeah, i guess that can be confusing.”

Seokjin’s relief is short lived; It only takes a few second for the meaning of it all to sink in; the sexy fucker is also a sexy biker, how is Seokjin supposed to get any sleep at night now?

The leather jacket in summer makes so much more sense.

Seokjin’s mouth feels dry for reasons he can very much explain. “Isn’t that a bit… dicey, though?” He doesn’t say for someone like you, but it hangs in the air, and Namjoon seems to hear it loud and clear.

He smirks like someone who’s used to this exact reaction.

“There’s two things I’ve never broken in this world; Music equipments and vehicles.”

Seokjin nods calmly to cover up the fact that his inside are a mess. Figures Hearts aren’t on that list.

“Alright, I need to go talk to my locksmith.” Taehyung’s eyes lights up again. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” He finishes, nodding in his direction, a shy smile on his face.

“Anytime.” Seokjin says faintly, still processing everything. “And I’m sorry for, you know, the whole falling asleep on you.” His blush must be covering him all over by now. He might never got back to his normal colour. He tries to laugh the embarrassment away, but all it does is make his crush look even more obvious.

Namjoon looks at him then, the cogs clearly turning in his head. Once he seems to finally have reached a conclusion, his expression twist into something different. Something that looks suspiciously... flirtatious?

“Don’t worry about it. Having a lap full of handsome has never been a problem for me.”

Let it be known Seokjin has rarely been rendered speechless. For a second he thinks he just hallucinated it, but then Namjoon unmistakably winks at him.

Seokjin’s mind goes blank. Where did the shy guy from before go?

“You know where to find me if you ever want a ride. I kind of owe you one.” He adds before leaving, closing the door behind himself.

Seokjin is too stunned to make a noise, so it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence.

“I aspire to have that level of game.”

Seokjin agrees.

Fin 1.1

Namjoon has already left to pick up his motorcycle from the auto shop, trusting Jungkook to lock up behind himself. After all, they’ve bonded over Namjoon’s difficulties with locks for the last few years, and can now be considered good friends.

He’s pretty much done, gathering his tools before leaving.

Somebody comes out of an apartment next door as he’s packing up. He doesn’t pay it any attention until the person clears their throat for a solid fifteen second. Turning around curiously, he catches sight of a particularly pretty man, probably around his age, locking up very loudly. He wouldn’t give it more attention if the young man wasn’t looking right at him with a weird smile. He’s locking the door with fervour, never breaking eye contact while he clearly struggles, and a particular hard twist even succeeds in making Jungkook wince.

When the inevitable happens and the key snaps under the pressure, the man lets out the fakest sound of despair Jungkook has ever heard, maintaining eye contact and looking like the cat that got the canary.

“Oh!~ What am I to do!~ I don’t know any locksmith...”

Jungkook has a feeling he should, perhaps, run.

He doesn’t.

Fin 1.2

[kiri-ah]

Something To Sink My Teeth Into || they/them pronouns version

Themes: Supernatural AU, Vampire AU, strangers to lovers, angst and fluff (so much fluff), something similar to those symbiotes from Venom and Hanahaki disease combined, interplanar travel, Jaemin and the reader are oblivious and Chenle gets mad about it, long conversations about vampires, vampires can't cry

Pairing: Vampire!Jaemin x Gender Neutral Human!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood (minor), mentions of eating (human food and vampire food), character death, Chenle is kind of a butthole, in depth conversations about humans and vampires which include biting and blood drinking

Word Count: 26.4k

Summary: A trip to Poland goes terribly wrong - or maybe terribly right - when you're bitten and kidnapped by a vampire. Between passing out, almost dying multiple times, and falling in love, you have a lot on your plate. Oh, and the magic. Right. Teaser here.

A/N: This wasn't supposed to get this long... *sigh*

This has only been edited by myself and a friend of mine, please excuse any errors. I worked hard to make the best experience possible. For that reason, please note that this is the !gender neutral pronouns version! He/him pronouns may be found here, she/her pronouns here. Please enjoy!

You were on holiday in Krakow, Poland. For your twenty first birthday, your parents had gifted you a weeklong trip over Spring Break, and you had been having the time of your life. You had found Krakow rich in historical influence - it had been the capital of Poland until 1596 and still had remnants of the past, like a Renaissance-era trading post and sections of the medieval walls that surrounded the city. Plus, the section of the city that you were staying in was very close to the city center, where you discovered aforementioned trading post, called the Cloth Hall, and an old cathedral named St. Mary’s Basilica.

The first night of your stay, Sunday night, you had struggled to sleep, because of the time difference and the excitement of arriving. You stayed in Monday morning, trying to at least rest a bit, and then ventured out to the nearest coffee shop when that didn’t alleviate your sleepiness. The barista had whipped up your favorite pick-me-up morning drink, and you went to sit outside in the fresh air, surveying the plaza over the rim of your cup. It was just the right time of year, you thought, because it was nice and warm without being too hot, just how you liked it. The sun had started to rise about the buildings around you, illuminating certain structures and giving them an unearthly glow.

When you finished your drink, you put the cup into the collection bin and walked back out onto the main square, just enjoying the sun on your face (over the sunglasses you had bought in the airport after forgetting to pack yours) and letting the warmth sink through your limbs after the tired night. One of the unfortunate things about the time of year you had travelled was the tourists. There were families and older couples and people your age taking trips with their friends, and most everyone stayed right where you were staying as well: right in the heart of the city. To avoid as many crowds as possible, you had booked a tour of St. Mary’s Basilica for Thursday morning, and reserved entry to the underground museum for this afternoon.

Tomorrow you planned to go and see Grodzka Street, where you were going to try and find a souvenir. In the same neighborhood was an ancient church called St. Andrew’s Church, which dated back to around 1079. On Wednesday, you were going to brave the crowds of people in the Cloth Hall for the same purpose, and also because it was a historical landmark that you just needed to explore. Wednesday afternoon was blocked out to be a rest period, as was Thursday morning. Then on Friday you were planning to go and see the Wawel Castle and Cathedral. From there you would explore the various attractions on the property, and then return to the plaza later to eat. That afternoon, you planned to go to the Jewish cemetery. Saturday was blocked out for a trip to Auschwitz-Birkenau, which was a Nazi concentration camp and a Holocaust memorial out of the main town. When you returned to the hotel late that afternoon you would pack and get ready for your flight Sunday morning. It was going to be a very full and very fun week. Or at least you hoped it would be fun.

You explored the main square a little bit that first day and unpacked your things, making sure you had everything you needed for your trip and you didn’t need to walk to one of the convenience stores nearby.

The days passed quickly, and you finished each one completely satisfied. Everything and everyone here was so wonderful and you started to wonder how you had never heard of this place before this trip. It was absolutely one of the best places your parents could have picked.

On Friday morning you got up bright and early (well, actually, it was dark and early) to go to the Wawel Castle. You had heard from a travelling site that tickets sold out fast and it was important to get there early in the day, and you tried to heed that warning. At 7am when you arrived it was already busy, but thankfully not so much that the lines were too long. You wandered through the small exhibits and around the grounds. It was a bit more chilly today and you wrapped a scarf around your neck as you shivered, trying to find a less windy spot to hide out for a second. You found a little spot where you could take a moment and recharge your inner heater and were doing just that, burrowing into your small scarf mountain, when you realized that a person stood next to you. You looked up through your lashes at them and caught your breath - holy cow he had good genes. He had a sharp, sloping jawline that stopped at a chin less pointy than you had expected. His lips were plush and round, although he needed some chapstick. His hair was pushed around by the wind but despite that he looked, well, amazing. Sections were bleached, giving his hair an almost halo-esque look. His nostrils contracted as he inhaled and then his eyes cut down to yours, dark and deep and was that eyeliner?

He smiled then, a smirk that seemed far too self-assured for the situation, and leaned over towards your exposed ear. “I can feel you staring, baby,” he murmured. The top of your ear, which had been feeling rather numb, flamed hot at his words. It almost hurt, the sudden jump into heat. You turned towards him fully, only eyes exposed by the scarf mountain. Your hair whipped around as the wind shifted again, but he didn’t seem cold, although he was in only a pair of black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket. The jacket caught your attention for a second - it was studded with thousands of little rhinestones, like a varsity jacket gone shiny. Then he shifted closer into your space and you were forced to look back at his eyes, glittering in a way that seemed almost predatory. You sucked in a breath through your mouth and started to back away.

“S-sorry,” your breath came out in a whisper. Nobody seemed to notice your interaction. “I didn’t see you there, I’ll just leave.” You turned to go before his hand, surprisingly strong, clamped around your arm and pulled you back into his chest.

His voice came out in a growl as he blocked your scream with his other hand. “I am far, far too hungry for you to leave right now, precious.” The strength in your legs seemed to dissipate at his tone, you knew you needed to defend yourself, but ‘hungry’? What was that about? And precious? The hand wrapped around your arm let go and started unwrapping your scarf, exposing your face to both him and the frigid wind. He started to lean down, and you pressed your lips together tightly. At the very least, he wasn’t getting in your mouth. You may have lost the strength in your legs, but not in your will. Then he bypassed your mouth and leaned into your neck, inhaling and causing cold air to course along the column of your throat. He chuckled when you shivered, then bit into your neck.

The pain was overwhelming, you could feel each individual blood cell crying out, every organ protesting, your head started to pound with it. It hurt far more than even a dog bite should. It hurt like a shot at the doctor going on and on, echoing through your body and you were powerless to stop it. The pain flared in your neck and your brain seemed to slow down as the blood flowed away from it and into his mouth. You crumbled into him, and without detaching from your throat, he scooped you up into his arms, holding you there to be his personal bloodbag. You had long since stopped trying to scream, it was too difficult, too much effort.

Vampires, your thoughts whispered, before the pain covered you and you passed out, collapsing completely.

☽༓☾

You woke up in a... cozy cottage? There wasn’t any sign of your attacker and, in fact, no sign of anything vampire esque either. You looked around the single room at the soft fabric couch (covered in boho style throw pillows), the kitchenette (complete with pre packed food), and the window, through which you could see a combination flower and vegetable garden. There were two doors off of the room you were in, one that led towards the lush green outside, and one that must have concealed the bathroom.

The moment you realized this, you also realized that you really needed to use said bathroom, and struggled to plant your bare feet on the floor. Your legs didn't want to hold your weight, and you crumbled to the rug with a whine. Two seconds later, the door to the outside opened with a swish of fresh air and there, outlined by the sun, stood the most gorgeous person you had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. When he saw you on the floor, he groaned and ran a hand through his pink hair. "Shit, I'm so sorry, let me help you!" He ran over and you allowed him to half carry you into the bathroom. It wasn’t like you had any strength to protest, and he seemed nice. He smelled like sunshine on fresh earth.

Once you had finished using the toilet you tried to stand up again, now that you at least had some semblance of strength in your legs. After a few tries you were able to support yourself against the bathroom counter, with more than half of your weight against the frigid tiles. Your legs shook as you started standing more straight up, and you made a high pitched keening sound that you didn’t even know you could make; the man’s worried voice came through the door. His voice was higher and slightly panicked.

“Are you okay? Do you need help? Are you hurting too much?”

Your voice, which you hadn’t managed to make work properly, came out low and scratchy. A portion of your throat ached as you tried to make the sounds audibly. “Yeah,” you rasped out. “I can’t stand up properly.”

“Do you need me to come and help?” There was something about his voice that just made you want to trust him. It was soft but strong and even though he had toned down the panic, it still had soft tremors of worry running through it.

You thought about it for a second and considered yourself in the mirror. You looked, quite frankly, horrible. Your hair was a mess, your eye bags were sagging unnaturally, and your eyes themselves were dull. You did look like you needed help. You sighed. “Sure.”

A moment later he opened the door slowly and stepped into the space with you, putting one arm around your waist to help support you. You relaxed some of your weight onto him and closed your eyes briefly. It would have been a wholly relaxing moment if not for your stomach. It grumbled up at you and you thought for a moment that it sounded like an angry octopus trapped inside of you. Then you blinked to clear the thought away as the man laughed. It was deeper than you expected from a man with pink cotton-candy colored hair, a low chuckle that rumbled through his body and, in turn, yours. You shook against him slightly with the movement and his other arm came to help you lean more against his body. He was stronger than you expected and you could feel the muscles in his arms shift as he reoriented himself.

“Let’s get you some food,” he said, smiling. “Unfortunately I’m not sure I’ll have much you’ll like.” You just nodded. Your throat was still throbbing uncomfortably where you were bitten and you weren’t sure you had the energy to even debate his statement. You were sure you would eat whatever he gave you. He led you into the main room again and helped you settle onto the couch. He walked over to the kitchenette and picked up a can of soup, then walked back to you to verify it was a kind that you liked. Once you had approved it, he went back and put it in a pot on the electric stove, starting to heat it up. As he stood over it, you had some time to think as you sat on the couch. The first thing you realized was that you still didn’t know what his name was, which was an issue. You couldn’t thank him properly without knowing his name. The second thing you realized was that you didn’t know where you were, exactly. The third was that you had probably missed your flight back home and your parents were going to murder you for it when you eventually got back. You shifted so you were more comfortable before trying to speak again. You started with the easiest vocal warmup you remembered and the man looked over at you with eyebrows raised.

“You good?” he asked. You nodded in response, hoping that your throat would relax and stop throbbing.

“Yeah, I think so,” you told him. “The side of my neck really aches where that man bit me.” His eyebrows furrowed at this and you thought maybe you just imagined it, that nobody actually bit you, but the pain was real enough in that moment and it was certainly real enough when he bit you. “Also,” you continued, “I still don’t know what your name is.” He seemed to think about this for a moment.

“I’m Jaemin Na,” he said eventually. “This is my house. And I think maybe we need to take a closer look at your bite, I didn’t realize it still hurt. Usually the throbbing goes away after a day or two.” You found yourself nodding along before his words sank in.

“Okay, uh, nice to actually know who you are now. I’m Y/N,” you said. There were suddenly many more questions floating around your brain. Usually he had said, which meant he had dealt with vampire bitten people before. How? Was he one? Why weren’t you a vampire? And how long had you been asleep for? They circled around your head like a dog chasing its tail until you realized that Jaemin was in front of you. It seemed like he was waiting for you to say something.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “What was that?”

“I said we have all the time in the world for you to ask me the questions I know you must have. Don’t psych yourself out. You’re safe.” Despite the fact that you knew next to nothing about him you found yourself once again trusting him without reason. He just seemed like a genuinely nice person, someone you could believe to tell you nothing but the truth.

“Okay,” you agreed, and it came out like a sigh. Your throat gave a particularly unpleasant throb and you unconsciously brought a hand up to rub at it. Jaemin’s hand fastened around your wrist and pulled it away, looking closely at your skin. He sighed.

“You’ve probably figured out by now that the man who bit you was a vampire. If you haven’t, have your moment of denial now.” You just looked back at him, surprised.

“Denial?”

“Yeah. Usually when humans find out about vampires for the first time they aren’t very accepting of it. I’ve had to replace my windows a few times from thrown objects.” You almost laughed before realizing that he was serious.

“Okay, well, I already got that, so go ahead,” you prompted.

“Great!” His eyes got just a little bit less heavy with your statement and he continued, “contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t actually turn humans all that often. If we had that little self control the whole population would be dead or turned already.” You noted his use of the word we and shuddered a little. He could attack you too? He seemed so gentle.

For the first time you noticed your soup in a bowl on the coffee table. Jaemin reclaimed your attention by speaking again. “We’re also pretty good at choosing who to bite, and when. We’re not heartless. We try to choose people with good metabolisms so that we can return them to Earth quickly.” At this you inhaled so sharply that he paused, looking over at you.

“We aren’t on Earth anymore?” you asked shakily. He shook his head with a quirk of his lips. That distracted you enough to calm down for a moment. He really was a gorgeous person. Was the word person still applicable to vampires? You didn’t know. He sucked you out of your thoughts again with a hand waved in front of you.

“No, we’re not on Earth. Where we are… it’s like a parallel plane of existence. Vampires can live here, do live here, in bigger bunches than we can on Earth. We call it ‘Vahmpyr.’ I always thought that was a really unoriginal name, but I was turned after it was discovered so I didn’t have much of a say. It would be like you trying to rename Earth.” He picked up your bowl of soup and stirred it around, handing it to you, before continuing.

“This is my vacation house of sorts, where I nurse humans who have been bitten back to their healthy selves. Generally we vampires try to keep one certified nurse or doctor in each coven just in case, more if the coven is large. It’s a handy skill to have. Especially if you happen to have parts of your coven who are as chaotic as ours.” He looked over at you and smiled wryly before adding, “I didn’t poison the soup, you know.” You looked down at your lap where the warm bowl sat and laughed under your breath before picking up the spoon and taking a bite. It was delicious. You flashed him a thumbs up with your mouth full and he smiled brightly again.

Once you had swallowed you asked, “how can you bite humans and not turn them? I didn’t know it was possible to not turn us.” He nodded like he was expecting this question.

“It’s kind of a strange feeling,” he told you. “Biting, I mean. It’s not like the human feeling of biting into a piece of meat. It’s just… it’s amazing. It’s like cold fruit on a summer’s day, hot chocolate while snow falls. It’s at once a feeling of absolute power and absolute devotion because tasting a human’s blood puts them above everything else, at least for a few moments. At the same time you’re aware that their body is falling apart and right into you. It’s intoxicating. Every once in a while you’ll bite someone that just tastes extraordinarily good, or meet someone with a unique and, pardon my language, delicious, smell. Then your body sort of automatically realizes you want them to stick around and releases the venom.”

“So,” you said, interested by his version of vampires, “if you bit me right now, I’d be fine?”

His eyes sparked with something new. Anger, you thought, or something close to it. “I just spent four days nursing you back to health and you want me to bite you just to see what happens?” he asked incredulously.

“No! I was just confirming. I’m sorry,” you murmured, and shoved another bite of the soup into your mouth for good measure. He sighed.

“I’m sorry too, it feels so easy to talk to you. I forget that you’re new to this.” You choked on your soup while he and he hurriedly patted your back as you regained your breath. “Are you alright?”

“Did you say you spent four days nursing me back to health?” you asked, head spinning. Four days. Four days. Four days. “I’ve been missing from Earth for four days?”

He deliberated for a moment. “Yes, and no. You’ve been off of Earth for four days, yes, but you aren’t missing.” You raised an eyebrow in response and he hurried to explain more. “I mean, obviously you’re here, and yes, you’ve been here for four days, asleep, recovering from Jisung’s bite. On the other hand, there’s still a you on Earth right now. That’s the interesting thing about Vahmpyr. We can bring humans back, with some effort, and while they’re here, a version of them is still on Earth. It’s still you. And if you go back, from what I understand, you get your other half’s memories back, like you never left. It’s quite the phenomenon.” He seemed completely serious and you were inclined to believe him, but this was insanity. Another you, a perfect copy, walking around on Earth while you hung out with the vampires in their parallel plane? You pinched yourself. It hurt, and you winced. Jaemin looked at you with this horrible understanding glimmer in his eyes like he was saying I know how this is. It’s weird and unimaginable but it’s here. Please don’t break any of my things.

Eventually you just kept sitting and looked back at him. “This really is good soup,” you said. He looked at you in surprise before bursting out laughing, face lighting up like the horizon at sunrise.

“You’re not going to attack me?” he asked between chuckles. “That’s the normal response. And thank you, that’s my favorite kind of soup too.” You shook your head, smiling back at him.

“I decided that there’s no changing it even if this is just a fever dream induced by an infected human,” you explained to him. “And wait, can you actually eat still? Like stuff besides blood?” In response he ran over to the small kitchen and grabbed a spoon of his own, dipping it into the bowl and moving it to his mouth. When he was done he smiled at you.

“I can still eat human foods. Nothing is as good as blood, of course, but I can still enjoy it. It’s just dulled by the transformation. And I’m glad that’s the stance you take on being transported to a different plane, I’ve known humans to react rather badly.” He took a moment to think. “For example, there was a woman who was convinced we had sexually assaulted her, which is a fair thought, but she wouldn’t let me explain anything to her. She ran outside as soon as her legs were strong enough and ran right into Lucas. He’s a really big guy, wide and tall and strong and such. She was so terrified she ran into my bathroom and I had to give her the spiel from through the door. Not the finest of interactions.” In spite of yourself you laughed. You could imagine the woman’s fear, especially if this Lucas was as infuriatingly gorgeous as Jaemin and the man who had bit you. You probably should’ve felt the same way, but something about Jaemin was just relaxing, and you felt safe with him.

“I get it,” you told Jaemin. “All of you guys; the guy who bit me - what did you say his name was? Jisung? Yeah, him. Jisung and you and probably Lucas, you all look like models which I guess goes with the vampire narrative, but it’s a little shocking since I’ve never seen someone so good looking. It’s nearly scary.” You looked back up to see Jaemin looking surprised.

“You think we’re good looking? Even after you got bitten by one, abducted by another, and have only heard of the third in a story about someone running away screaming?”

You shrugged. “All of that doesn’t change the facts. You’re still some pretty perfect looking human beings.” A moment later you realized what you had said and wrinkled your nose. “Sorry, uh, creatures. Is that offensive?” Jaemin laughed again and wow you could get addicted to that laugh. It was so carefree. You supposed that came with immortality.

“Technically ‘creatures’ is more accurate but isn’t very nice-sounding, even if we are unnatural monsters.” He said this as though he had come to terms with it. Even if we are unnatural monsters.

“I don’t think you’re unnatural,” you told him. “I mean, if there is a higher power out there then He or It or They created a whole plane for you and if not then nature did. I don’t think Vahmpyr would exist if you were unnatural.” He looked at you without speaking as you took another spoonful of soup.

“That’s… that’s a new way of looking at it.” He looked conflicted, like he was trying to reconcile your view of him with his view of himself. “I don’t think our plane was meant to exist though, by higher power or nature. Humans are beautiful because they age and there is room for change within your society. It’s hard to change an entire plane full of the unchanging.”

“Maybe so,” you argued, “but you’re obviously gorgeous on the outside, and on the inside it seems like you have a good system too. If I was a vampire I don’t think I’d take care of the humans I had bitten. It wouldn’t have occurred to me. They would all die. I would be dead, come to think of it.”

“That’s true,” he conceded. “You really do have a unique view of things.”

“Thank you?” It came out sounding more like a question than you intended. You finished your bowl of soup, licking the excess off of your upper lip. Setting the bowl back down seemed to break whatever spell had kept you in eager conversation with him. You supposed all of your questions had been answered, for now. Jaemin helped you get set up with Netflix on his TV and went back outside to his garden. He explained that you could call for him through the open window if you needed him, he would be right nearby. You nodded, already distracted by the opening scene of your show.

After a while you realized that there were low voices coming from outside. It sounded like Jaemin was talking to someone. You turned the volume down on the TV a little bit to listen. Maybe you could meet the infamous Lucas or someone else in Jaemin’s vampire family.

“... have to bring them to me?” Jaemin was saying. “You tasted them, you know their scent. This is painful. Their scent is all over my things, my bed.” He let out a small groan and the other man with him chuckled breathily.

“Hyung, I didn’t mean for them to smell so good I swear, it was a spur of the moment decision. I was hunting in their area and their scent was so enticing. Plus, I was hungry!” You shuddered at the mention of hunting. This one, who must be Jisung, was far less civilized than Jaemin, it seemed.

Jaemin made an angry noise and his words hissed out when he spoke. “You think it was enticing out in the open air of Poland? On a windy day? I’ve been smelling them acutely on my things, in my house, for four days and it hurts. My venom has been going non-stop for the entire period and it’s not like I can just change them, they’ve got a life ahead of them!” Part of your heart went out to Jaemin - he was trying so hard to take care of you and even caused himself pain for it. That explained why he had reacted so negatively when you asked what would happen if he bit you. You wouldn’t have been fine. You would’ve become like him. The thought didn’t cause the anger or disgust you thought it should have. It sounded nice, almost, to be like him. To stay in his safety for eternity.

“Jaemin,” said a new voice. It was strong and rough like tree bark lined his throat. “You can return them back to the real world in just a few more days and you’ll be free of them. It’s not like they’d want to stay here anyway, their friends and family are back on Earth. We can keep Jisung home and have him feed on Chenle until he learns his lesson.”

Someone, presumably Jisung, made a wounded noise. “I can control myself, I promise. Don’t make me feed on Chenle, Hyung, he doesn’t taste anywhere near as good.” Definitely Jisung.

“Jisung,” said Jaemin’s voice. “Don’t argue, you brought this on yourself. And me,” he adds as an afterthought.

Jisung’s sullen voice responded, “fine, Hyung, but Chenle isn’t going to be happy either, you know.” You thought maybe Jaemin must have nodded or something because nobody said anything for a while. You turned off the TV, suddenly bored with the program and head full of new questions. The top one on the list was why. Why did you affect them this way? Why did Jaemin treat you so nicely when you were hurting him? Why did Jisung sound like a puppy who had been reprimanded? Why did Jaemin and the other man have the power to ground him, essentially? Then there were the who questions. Who was the man with the voice like tree bark? Who was Chenle, and why wouldn’t he be happy? Lastly were the when questions. When would you be going home? When would you see them again? Would you see them ever again? When would Jisung be allowed to hunt again?

You were so deep in your head that you didn’t notice the door opening and Jaemin coming in, two men behind him, until he stopped and waved a hand in front of you.

“Y/N, you okay? I brought you some people to meet.” He stepped back and you forced your eyes to refocus on what was in front of you. When you looked up at him, he presented the two other guys like he was a car salesman and these were his favorite models. “This is Jisung, you’ve met him already although I don’t know if you remember him.” You nodded, looking over him. He had on a grey crewneck sweatshirt over a pair of black sweatpants today and looked far less terrifyingly beautiful flanked by his hyungs.

“I remember him,” you told them. “You’re the one who bit me.” You didn’t think it was possible for him to look more sheepish than he already did but he managed to, and shrank back so that he was standing half-behind the other man. The other guy had bleached hair falling messily over his forehead, and even though he was shorter than Jisung, he seemed to command your attention more. He had on a green sleeveless shirt that showed off arms rippling with muscles. You gulped, looking up at him, but then he smiled at you. His whole demeanor changed. He felt less like he was about to kill you and more like he might accidentally strangle you to death in a hug. His eyes scrunched up into little crescents and you found yourself smiling back.

“I’m Jeno,” he said, walking forward to shake your hand. “Sorry I didn’t come to visit earlier.” His voice still sounded like bark lined his throat, but less so now that he wasn’t bothering to limit his volume.

“That’s fine,” you replied. “I just woke up earlier today.” You glanced towards Jaemin; he looked like a proud mom watching you interact with his friend. “Jaemin fed me, and since then I’ve just been sitting here watching TV. I can’t find my phone, and even if I did I’m not sure I could walk over to it. My legs are out of practice.”

Jeno smiled again. “That’s pretty common for Jisung’s victims. We found out he has these little back teeth that make it more painful for the people he bites so they usually need more bed rest to recover from the strain on their bodies and the blood loss.”

You nodded, as though that made sense. They still let Jisung hunt with his unpredictability and extra teeth? That seemed a little irresponsible of them, but you supposed that Jeno and Jaemin weren’t that much older than him in the first place. You tried to bring up your next subject subtly.

“Speaking of recovery, when do you think I’ll be going back to Earth?” The change in the room was immediate. Jeno’s smile faltered enough for you to see his eyes, Jaemin’s shoulders slumped, and Jisung’s foot started tapping against the rug. “It’s not that I don’t like it here,” you interjected, “I'm just worried that my, uh, double self will get up to trouble and stuff. What if someone notices it’s not me?”

Jisung looked at Jaemin. “You either did a really bad job of explaining this or they weren't listening, Hyung.” Jaemin glared at him in response and chose not to dignify the statement with an answer. Jisung huffed at him and turned to you. “It’s you, y’know, back on Earth. Like… when a starfish gets cut in half, both halves grow into full starfish again. Something similar happened to you. Same organism, same Y/N, just two different places. Is that a weird comparison?”

“What he means,” interjected Jeno before you could reply, “is that the you down there has all of your experiences and memories and the same brain. It’s the exact same person as you, just two versions of you. When you go back you won't even have a bite scar.” At this you lifter your hand to rub at the mark on your throat. You saw Jisung’s eyes follow the action and he licked his lips. You put your arm back down into your lap and swallowed, the sound echoing in your head.

Finally Jaemin spoke. “And to answer your question, as soon as we get you strong enough to walk on your own you can go back. I mean technically there’s a body waiting for you down there, but we don’t know what would happen if we sent you back faulty, so we like to be careful.” You laughed at his use of the word faulty and nodded.

“Okay. Do you guys have a portal or something that’ll take me back?” At this all three men burst into laughter and a high pitched squeal joined the mix, coming from the doorway. Yet another man was standing there, thin orange-dyed hair flopping as he doubled over laughing.

“A- a portal,” he wheezed out between laughs. “No, we don’t have a portal.” You threw him a disgruntled look.

“I was just asking…”

Jaemin looked equally off-put and said, “Y/N, this is Chenle, Jisung’s best friend and our second child. Sorry about his lack of a filter.” His lips pursed unhappily and you rushed to reassure him.

“No, that’s okay, I don’t know if that was stupid question. No feelings hurt, he’s fine.” Jaemin looked unconvinced, so you sat up more towards Chenle and reached out a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh is that your name?” he replied breezily, shaking your hand quickly. “They were right, you do smell good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jaemin shift protectively.

“Chenle.” His voice came out a growl, raising hairs on the back of your neck. “Don’t you dare.” It was interesting, you thought, how this dynamic worked. From what you had heard with Jisung, Jaemin had always contained himself, like he was reprimanding his favorite child. With Chenle he seemed almost dangerous, like it was possible for him to hurt a fly, and things much bigger than a fly. You wondered if he was this way with all of his patients, or if Chenle just bothered him more with you than usual.

“I’m not going to, mom, chill out a moment.” Chenle, you decided, must be the bad egg of their group. Every family had at least one, and here was theirs. He seemed the most likely to hurt something for the fun of it, and it almost seemed like he should have been the one to attack you, not Jisung. You wondered, in the distant back of your head, whether he had extra teeth for biting like Jisung did. Maybe it was better not to find out.

“Please don’t call me mom,” Jaemin sighed in response, all of the fight leaving him a rush. His muscles were still tense, though, and he ran a hand through his cotton candy colored hair.

“Chenle,” said Jeno, “I think you and Jisung should go talk. He has news for you.” Jisung shuddered slightly, his nod small and tense. You remembered his reaction earlier, when he had been informed that he needed to feed from Chenle for the time being. Chenle looked between Jisung and Jeno and an expression appeared on his face that didn’t seem natural on him - uncomfortable confusion. What you had seen in this past tension filled minute was that he was self assured and rambunctious. Now you wondered if he respected Jeno, regardless of that. You supposed you didn’t really have time to find out, you would be going home as soon as you could walk on your own. Speaking of which-

“I need to use the bathroom again,” you said as Jisung walked out of the house with Chenle right behind him.

“You should try getting up on your own,” Jeno suggested. “The more you sit around the harder it’ll be for your legs to get strong again.” You nodded and used the arm of the couch to haul yourself to your feet. Your knees started shaking again and Jaemin hurried to support you a little, until you felt a little more steady on your feet. Once you did, you tentatively took a tiny step towards the bathroom. Your arms flew out to your sides to help with balance and Jaemin took the mother bird stance, worriedly standing within arm’s length to catch you if you started to collapse. Jeno watched from a few paces away and smiled at you.

“Let’s see if you can get to me, okay? Then we can help if you need support.” You nodded and gritted your teeth, shuffling forward on your weak legs slowly. The good news: you made it to him without falling or using Jaemin’s ever-there assistance. The not so good news: you practically fell into Jeno when you got to him, using his body for support. He helped you find your center of gravity again before acting as a crutch to get you to the bathroom.

“If you need anything,” Jaemin told you, “I’ll be right out here. Don’t over-exert yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, it’s just like one step to the toilet, and there’s a nice strong counter” you assured him, and closed the door behind you as you stepped away from Jeno’s warm strength. Immediately you felt weak again but you reached out to hold on to the edge of the counter while you walked and got safely to the toilet. Your legs screeched at you as you lowered yourself onto the seat and you relaxed a little bit once you were seated. Recovery was going to be hard.

☽༓☾

Two days passed in a blur of pain and people. You met quite a few new people, like the infamous Lucas (who was a giant baby and who adored you), a woman named Joy who had actual red eyes like the legends said, and a man that everyone called Ten. Actually, you weren’t sure if Ten counted as a man. He dropped by Jaemin’s house the third day, right after Jisung and Chenle had just left after getting some flowers from Jaemin’s garden. He walked in on tentacles, long and thick ones that wrapped around the door frame and curled and uncurled as he talked. He muttered something about wishing they would just admit they were gay and asked Jaemin if he happened to have clams. Jaemin, looking amused, supplied him with an entire bucket of the little creatures. Ten gave him a jar in response and flounced out the door without even looking at you.

“Jaemin,” you asked, “what, or who, was that?” Jaemin laughed happily and the sound was so perfect that you wished he would just keep laughing forever.

“Ten is kind of unique,” Jaemin said. “Obviously, he’s got tentacles, which is unusual, and then he’s also not a vampire so none of us can quite figure out how he can get here, to Vahmpyr. But he can see the future, sort of, which is pretty helpful sometimes. Warns us when we’re getting too active and need to be careful of humans. He’s also convinced that Chenle and Jisung are gay and that they just need some guidance.”

You couldn’t decide on a question to ask about these revelations, so you settled for a very intelligent sounding “huh,” and continued your walking around the house. You were doing a lot better now with your exercises and had been able to make it around the room without holding onto anything for support four times now. Jaemin laughed again and you felt yourself actually flinch from the force of his happiness. It was addicting, almost. He went back to his Gaelic scrolls, which he was translating for a man called Kun, who you had yet to meet.

You had a sudden thought and you found yourself needing to talk, to explain about the other day. “Jaemin,” you said, dropping into the seat across from him at the table with a low groan. “The other day when Jisung and Jeno came, you guys were talking outside, you know?” He looked up from the scrolls, giving you a raised eyebrow like ‘so?’

“So I may or may not have listened to your conversation,” you told him, watching as he gave you his full attention, clicking his pen closed and rolling up the scrolls gently. He didn’t look angry, exactly, more apprehensive than anything. Like he was back to worrying about you throwing things and breaking his windows.

“And?” he prompted, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them you saw something strange there, like fear. But certainly the immortal and beautiful Jaemin couldn’t be scared of you. You must’ve been interpreting it wrong.

“Well you guys were talking about my smell,” you started slowly. “And, uh, you said that you- that I was causing you pain. And I was just wondering, like, why keep me around? Why not take me to a human hospital, or just kill me? Or turn me? Why did you make yourself suffer?”

He inhaled deeply and then shivered a little bit. When he spoke, his voice was soft and a little scratchy. “For one, we’ve never had a case like this before. I mean obviously there have been people who have smelled good to me before, but usuallyI’m able to ignore it. With you… it’s like my vampire body can’t get enough of your scent. It wants to turn you, to keep you, in its selfishness. That part of me is weak, in its greed. And of course I couldn’t kill you, I could barely control myself when Chenle- when he-” Jaemin took a deep breath to steady himself. “He wanted to bite you. You smell good to our whole coven, to everyone who’s met you, at least, which is a first. Thankfully you don’t appeal to Jisung the same way you do to me though, because by now you’d be a full fledged member of the family. Jeno is really good at hiding it, but I could tell he wanted to drink from you too, when you used him to help you walk the other day. I think the only ones not affected by it are Lucas and Ten, although that could be because they’re both gay, I’m not sure.” As an afterthought, he added, “actually Lucas is demisexual but I’ve only ever seen him date guys.”

Skipping over the bit about Lucas’ sexuality, you spoke, horrified. “I’ve been hurting all of you? Seriously, why not just make me go to a regular hospital on Earth?”

“Well it would be a little hard to just give you to a hospital on Earth and be like, ‘here, take this body which may or may not have a vampire bite in its neck,’” Jaemin told you. “And also because I haven’t given up on a patient yet, and I didn’t want the first to be because I can’t control myself. And as to why I didn’t turn you… I didn’t want to take your life away. I still don’t. I think your life is going to be a good one and I don’t want to steal that. That’s why you’re going back tomorrow.”

An empty feeling settled in your chest. “You’re sending me back tomorrow? I still haven’t met so many of your friends though!”

He leveled you with a stare. “The rest of my patients never got to meet any other members of the coven. This was a one and done. You don’t need to know the rest of them. Especially not Yuta or Hyuck, good gracious.”

Who are Yuta and Hyuck? you wanted to ask, but his tone implied the end of the conversation, so you refrained from forming the question. “Okay, uh, I’m going to go sit in the garden.”

Jaemin flashed you a barely-there smile, opening his scrolls again and clicking his pen open. “Mhm. Be careful.”

You went out to sit under a tree in his front yard. Actually there were a lot of trees in his front yard - his house was in a forest. He had neglected to mention that when he first told you about his home and you had found it fascinating how it worked. When you walked out, there wasn’t any path out of the small clearing that housed his cottage. When you imagined a person, though, a tree tunnel would open and you could go any which way you wanted. You had tried imagining your parents the first time Jaemin told you about it and it hadn’t worked. He had explained that it only worked for people on this plane of existence, which made sense. When you had imagined Joy, it had shown you a way to a small town. Jaemin had forbidden you to go anywhere without him in case someone got territorial or hungry and killed you by accident. You respected that, you didn’t want to be murdered, but you wanted to see Lucas, and talk to him. He had fun stories to tell of his best friends. Jaemin seemed a bit huffy. It would be fine to go and see him, right? You’d just go and be back quickly before Jaemin even realized you were gone.

You decided that you just needed to talk to a friend right now and focused your mind on Lucas, finding an apartment building in the largest vampire city you had seen so far. With a little more effort you could find his apartment, although you couldn’t see him. The trees opened and you glanced back at Jaemin’s cottage before setting off.

As you walked down the path you reveled in your ability to walk. After two days of walking in short bursts and trying to regain strength in your legs you were finally able to walk like a normal human being, no flailing arms or stops every few meters to take a break and rest your muscles. It was nice, after so little freedom within Jaemin’s one room cabin. You liked being out here better. You avoided tree limbs and roots as you went, always focused on getting to Lucas. At one point your focus switched from his apartment to a convenience store and you panicked, realizing that you couldn’t go there. There, you might actually get murdered like Jaemin had predicted. He hadn’t nursed you back to health and struggled through your scent just for you to go and get yourself killed. You waited, walking more slowly, until the view at the end of the tunnel switched back to Lucas’ apartment’s front door. You breathed out a sigh of relief and continued on your way.

It was fascinating to you how there was no life in the forest besides the plants. You didn’t hear or see any insects or birds and you wondered if that was because they were afraid of the vampires or if they just didn’t exist on this plane. You decided to ask Lucas when you got to his house. After a while you realized that the image at the end of the tree tunnel was no longer a moving image of where you wanted to go, but rather the actual thing, growing bigger as you progressed down the path. You found yourself increasing your pace in your hurry to see Lucas.

When you left the comfort and relative safety of the forest, you nearly ran across the street separating the apartment complex from the trees. You stumbled at one point and almost fell to the pavement but recovered and kept going. You entered the main door and started up the stairs, still hurrying a little faster than your body thought was necessary. You speed walked until you reached the third floor and started looking through the numbers, looking for a door marked with ‘311,’ the one you had seen in the forest while looking for Lucas. After a good few minutes searching, you located the hallway his apartment was in and walked down it, looking at the odd numbers on the right. They counted down from 39, so you had a ways to go. Part of you wondered if the vampires just didn’t care about your presence, because apparently your scent was pretty strong and you were sure that you were stinking up the whole hallway with your human-ness, but nobody had come to murder you yet.

When you finally got to the door labeled with a faded ‘311,’ you stopped to take a breath before knocking on the door. An uncomfortable pause (where you wondered if Lucas was out after all) later, the door opened and you breathed out a sigh of relief, only for the air to stick in your throat at the sight of a man shorter than Lucas, but much scarier.

He had dark brown hair, obviously lightened but only a bit. It fell over his forehead and stopped just short of his eyes. His lips set in a grim line as he looked over you before they pulled back into what should have been a heart stopping smile, but was instead a snarl, a grimace of distrust and anger. The feature that stuck out most to you were his eyes. You imagined that when he was happy, his eyes would glow with an inner light. Now they were dark and they promised violence.

No sooner had you come to this conclusion before he had you pinned against the opposite wall. “Give me one good reason,” he hissed, “why I shouldn’t just kill you.” His arm pressed into your throat, keeping you pinned against the wall, on your tiptoes to accommodate the height of his arm.

Lucas, I came to see Lucas, you tried to say, but it got stuck on the way out of your throat and instead what came out was a weak, “Lu…” followed by a wispy groan. The man furrowed his brow and moved to hold you against the wall by your arms so you could speak. “Lucas,” you gasped, air rushing back into your body and allowing you to speak once more. “Friend.” The man put you completely down now, on the floor, and you moved to massage your throat before his eyes, dark and threatening, halted your movement. Lucas certainly has a knack for choosing friends, you thought.

“Don’t move,” he growled, “Or I’ll throw you out our living room window. It may not kill you, but it will hurt.” Then he turned around slightly and called, “Xuxi! There’s someone here to see you!”

You heard shuffling inside before the figure of Lucas appeared, tall and thick and seeming like safety incarnate in the presence of someone as terrifying as the man who still had one hand next to your head.

“Yang?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

The man, Yang, shifted so that Lucas could see your face. “This one just came knocking on our door and said they wanted to see you. Do you know them?”

Lucas gasped slightly and sped up, blurring a little, so that he reached you in less than a second. “Oh my gosh, Y/N, are you okay? Yangyang, this is the human that’s been staying with Jaemin for the past week, they’re my friend!”

“Hey Lucas,” you said weakly, finally reaching up to massage your throat now that you had someone to protect you from being thrown out the living room window. “I’m okay, I think. Just a little lightheaded.” Part of you wanted to add, Is his name Yang or Yangyang? but you figured now wasn’t the time to ask.

A strange look crossed Lucas’ face. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright, come inside and sit down, I’ll get you some water.” You followed him into the apartment, Yang (Yangyang?) behind you. He still slightly scared you and you stayed as close to Lucas as possible. Lucas spoke again as he grabbed a water bottle for you. You noted idly that it was Dasani. “But, uh, didn’t Jaemin tell you to, like, not come out here? So you didn’t get murdered? Cause that could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“Not you too!” you cried, exaggerating the syllables. “I know I could’ve died, but I wanted to see my friend! How hard is that to understand? Did it bother you so much that I wanted to see you?”

Lucas figited uncomfortably. “Well I appreciate that you came to see me, that’s really nice of you. It’s just that Jaemin was right. This really isn’t a safe place for you to be. I mean Yangyang could’ve killed you if he didn’t have such a heart of gold.” You threw a disbelieving glance towards the man in question and he shrugged, mouth tugging up in a mischievous grin.

“Okay, I mean, I can go back if you don’t want me here, I have to be back before Jaemin realizes I’m gone anyway,” you said, drinking more of your water. Yangyang and Lucas both froze.

“You didn’t get his permission?” Lucas asked in a tone that confused you. Was he scared of Jaemin? “Or tell him you were going for a walk? Or anything?”

“No, of course not. He would’ve said no!” you protested unhappily. This was not how you imagined this trip going.

“Okay,” Lucas said. “I’m taking you back right now. Jaemin will- well, he won’t kill me, but he’ll be scarily close if he finds out you came here.”

With a heavy sigh, you stood up. You knew that if he needed to, he could just throw you over his shoulder and carry you all the way back to Jaemin’s cottage. Darned vampire strength. “Fine.”

You got down the hallway and into the stairwell before Lucas tensed up again. “Shoot,” he muttered, looking down the stairs below. You couldn’t hear or see anything, and you were about to tell him so when he sighed and you heard a pitter patter like rain, growing louder by the second.

Moments later Jamin appeared in front of you, pink hair mussed and eyes wild with a mix of fear and anger. For a moment he didn’t even speak, just glared at you. The fear faded from his eyes. When he did speak, the words seemed like poison being spit off the tongue of a snake.

“I can’t believe you,” he seethed. “I kept you in my house, fed you, nursed you back to health. I let you use all of my things and was even going to send you home once you were perfectly healthy again. I gave you one rule. One! Just to keep you safe! And you go and break it. You could have died, Y/N, do you understand that? I did everything in my power to keep you in an environment where you weren’t in danger! I didn’t allow Hyuck to come over, I made sure that you were prepared to meet Lucas and Jeno and even Jisung! But all of my efforts faded to nothing when you opened that doorway to the city. I’m taking you home right now, I can’t bear to keep you here any longer, not when you obviously have no sense of self preservation!”

He picked you up before you could even blink and you felt a sharp wind on your face as he ran home. His steps sounded like raindrops falling on pavement, sharp but small, a pinprick of sound in an otherwise silent stairwell. Lucas had disappeared from view in less than a second and you shut your eyes against the vertigo of being carried at such a speed. Everything blurred, everything was indistinct and most things weren’t even worthy of notice. Jaemin smelled like ink, and you had space in the very back of your mind to wonder if he had spilled his, in his haste to find you. It didn’t seem like a very vampire-like thing to do.

A few moments later you entered the canopy of the forest and every once in a while you heard a stick break under his foot or a rock get catapulted out of the way. Then you felt the sun on your back again and you gasped as Jaemin dumped you onto the warm grass, standing tall before you. He said something in a language you didn’t know - it sounded vaguely like Latin - and the grass fell out from under you as the ground opened up and you fell into space.

☽༓☾

When you woke up the next morning to your alarm, you wondered briefly if your entire experience with Jaemin and the other vampires was a dream. The puncture wounds that had been on your neck were utterly nonexistent, and there was no evidence on you that you had even left the comfort of your bed. On the other hand, you had clear memories of your time in Vahmpyr, short as it was. You remembered how it smelled and how the trees had felt as you walked outside. You remembered the feeling of the cool granite of the bathroom countertop. Mostly you remembered being with Lucas, Jeno, Jisung, and Chenle. You remembered almost dying at the hands of Lucas’ roommate and you remembered the terrifying flight in Jaemin’s arms.

Jaemin.

You grimaced at yourself in the mirror and spit out your toothpaste. There was no way your mind could have made up someone as excruciatingly kind and beautiful as Jaemin was. At the same time you felt anger bubble up inside of you. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say goodbye - he had just put you through to your Earthly self without any words between the two of you. You hadn’t said goodbye to Lucas or Jeno either, nor had you seen the rest of your new acquaintances. The anger flared, hot against your insides, and you could swear you actually felt your chest twinge. You spat out the last of your toothpaste and replaced your toothbrush in its holder, going to get ready for your day.

The next few days were spent alternately missing the simplicity of life on Vahmpyr and being angry at Jaemin. Assignments piled onto your shoulders and in addition to that, you discovered some sort of disconnect between you and the part of you that had stayed on Earth while you were out. That part of you seemed to dismiss your time in Vahmpyr as something it had dreamed up all on its own. It didn’t acknowledge you and liked to take control of your body whenever you weren’t paying full attention to it. Every time it did that you felt the twinge in your chest again, except it got more and more painful. You started having headaches that the other part of you didn’t seem to feel but which pressed against your skull like tiny war hammers thudding into the bone by your temples and occasionally your eyes.

Your vision would go blurry and you started having lapses of consciousness, only to wake up and find yourself doing just fine with your other part in charge. During these lapses you would dream of being in Vahmpyr again, and you saw Lucas smiling with Yangyang, Chenle rolling his eyes at Jisung before hugging him tightly. Other men you didn’t know and other women you hadn’t met also flew across the screen of your eyes but they disappeared quickly. Ten even passed by once, haughtily scrolling past everyone until he sidled up to a tall man with long blond hair who smiled down at him and pressed a gentle kiss to one of Ten’s tentacles. A man with red hair and an eyebrow slit served coffee to a man who chewed like a rabbit. A group of three guys held up a sign that said “Go Taemin!” as a group played football. A woman in a suit jacket over jean shorts sat with a box of papers, crying. Joy played a game with other girls where they tried to push lockers over on each other. Everything (with the exception of the lockers) looked like fun. It was better than Earth, at any rate. Every night you went to bed wondering if you might just die by morning and leave the other half of yourself behind to control the body. You were just along for the ride at this point.

The evening of your fourth day back on Earth you went to sit outside the dorm building on a bench, just for some fresh air. For once you had control of the body and you let your head tip back, closing your eyes and just feeling. The bench pressed up against your back in a way that hurt slightly, but your body had been wracked with pain for two days straight and it didn’t ache so much as behind your eyes or inside your skull. The evening breeze blew across your eyelids and brought with it the scent of sun-warmed dirt.

It smelled like Jaemin, that first morning you woke up in his house. When he had helped you across the cottage towards the bathroom and been outlined by the sun, when he had made you soup and sat with you on the couch while he explained where you were and what he was.

Your body shook with a particularly painful pound on the inside of your ribs. You let yourself relax against the bench again and the sensations enveloped you once more. You felt yourself let go of your body on Earth and float away, less falling and more weightlessness, floating away on a wind that smelled of sun on dirt and felt like arms wrapping around you while rain fell on summer-warmed pavement. You floated away on this wind and it lifted you endlessly until you nodded off, finally free of the pains that had kept you company for the past few days. You wondered if perhaps you had died of it, if being back on Earth had perhaps been more detrimental to you than beneficial.

Then your back hit something hard and the breath was knocked from your lungs, waking you up again and telling you that something had gone very very wrong or very very well. You gasped air back into your body and rolled over weakly, now in a body you recognized as the one you inhabited on Vahmpyr. Grass poked your inner arms and you pushed yourself up to sitting with your legs crossed. You massaged your chest as you inhaled and found yourself miraculously free of pain, aside from the slight burn of breath inhaled too quickly after loss of oxygen. The war hammers in your head had vacated the premises and the aches of your ribs had subsided, making it easier to breath and just sit without drawing in pained gasps.

You registered a return of cold as a shadow fell over you and looked up to see none other than Chenle, with Jisung behind him. Did they never go anywhere without each other? Well, besides hunting.

“Y/N?” He gaped down at you, and you looked back up at him.

“The one and only,” you said, before you realized that didn’t apply to you anymore. “Well, one of only two in existence.”

He laughed that weird dolphin laugh he had again and reached out a hand to help you up. You took it, standing unsteadily on two feet that didn’t ache the moment you put weight on them. “What’re you doing back here? Jaemin-hyung said he sent you back to Earth.”

You feel the corners of your mouth tug down almost instinctively at the mention of Jaemin. “He did. I don’t think Earth agreed with me,” you told him. Jisung walked forward and looked you up and down.

“Maybe we should take you back to Jaeminnie hyung, he’ll know what to do.”

You groaned. “I really don’t want to deal with him at the moment.”

“We can take them to Kun-ge,” Chenle interjected smoothly. “He’ll know better than Jaemin-hyung anyway, he’s been a doctor and a vampire longer.” A side of Chenle appeared that you hadn’t seen yet, a side that took charge in a way that wasn’t just insulting anyone near him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. He took your hand with one of his and grabbed Jisung’s arm with the other.

“Come on, let’s go see Kun-ge!”

☽༓☾

Kun, as it happened, lived in the same building as Lucas. Actually he lived one apartment over, behind the door labeled ‘313.’ When he opened the door he seemed strangely unsurprised to see you there, just breathed out a sigh and let you in. He had nice light brown hair that worked well with his skin tone and eyes that smiled even when he wasn’t. He had this aura of parenting around him, like he took care of everyone he knew. It was comfortable to be around him from the start. Once Chenle had explained where he found you, Kun sat you down and asked exactly what had happened.

“Listen,” he said seriously. “I’ve never seen a human react the way you did. Nobody has ever come back, from what I know. We have to figure out exactly what happened, why you came back, and how to get you back to Earth.”

You inhaled deeply, relishing in the painless breath. “Okay, uh, I’m not really sure where to start,” you told him.

“Tell me about how you got sent home.”

“Okay. So, I left Jaemin’s cottage to come and see Lucas and I guess Jaemin is a lot scarier when he gets mad, because he was not happy when he found out I had left. He did this, like, superfast running thing, very Twilight, and carried me to this random clearing, I guess, I didn’t look around much.” You paused to let Kun write that down on his very professional looking clipboard, but he waved you on. Right, he was a vampire. He could write stuff fast.

“So he sort of dumped me on the ground and said something in a language I didn’t know, it sounded like Latin but I’m not sure. Then the ground sort of opened up and I fell and fell and fell until I rejoined my, uh, Earthly body.” You paused to take a breath and think about how to convey what happened when you got back to Earth.

“When I got back there was this weird disconnect with my body. Like, uh, there was me, in my body, and there was also this other part of me, the part of me that stayed behind when I came here the first time. That other part sort of took the main control of the body we lived in, and it felt like I was along for the ride. It liked to pretend that I wasn’t there, that my time here in Vahmpyr wasn’t real. It was weird. Then a little into my stay, I started getting these super bad pains all over my body.”

Kun interrupted you by holding up a finger. “How long were you home before the pains started?”

You thought back, struggling to pinpoint when they had started. “I think maybe a little longer than twenty four hours? When I got back I woke up in that body, and about one sleep later I started getting the pains, which would be like twenty five hours. Twenty four and a half, maybe. At first it was just these weird twinges in my chest, like my ribs were popping every time I took a breath, then it progressed. I got these horrible headaches, and my chest hurt all the time, and walking felt like attacking my feet, and my neck was always super achy. The thing is, my other half didn’t feel any of that. It was just my half of our consciousness. Then about on my fourth day back I went outside and sat on the bench outside my dorm. I laid back and, uh, it felt like I died or something. I just felt my consciousness leave the body and I guess the other half is still there living down there and now I’m here.”

Kun, Chenle, and Jisung all sat on the couch together, Kun looking over his notes while the other two men just sat in silence. After a minute Kun spoke. “I don’t really know what happened to you, but I’m almost certain that your connection to your human self is gone. Or at least, your Earthly self. I don’t think we can send you back anymore, I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes full of remorse. You expected to mirror that feeling, but you discovered that it didn’t bother you so much. The other half of yourself would keep all of your friends and family from having to mourn you, and you could stay here, painless.

“I’m actually kind of glad about that,” you told them, and Chenle’s head snapped from picking at his jeans to look at you.

“Glad?” he demanded, incredulous. “To stay here?”

“Well yeah, I mean I was in pain most of the time I was back on Earth so it’s not like I’m eager to go back there. Plus, since I didn’t actually die nobody has to mourn me. And part of the time I was like… seeing Vahmpyr. Like is Ten dating this super tall guy with blonde hair? And Joy was pushing lockers over on her friends? And you two!” You turned an accusatory finger at Jisung and Chenle. “You two are adorable together!”

Jisung sighed. “Not you too…”

Kun shushed him. “You could see what was going on here in Vahmpyr?”

“Well, sort of,” you told him. “I saw that Lucas and Yangyang were having, like, a picnic?”

Kun’s eyebrows furrowed and he muttered, “I knew they had one without me.”

“I also saw this guy with red hair giving coffee to a man who sort of chewed like a bunny. And there was this group of three guys holding up a sign that said “Go Taemin!” I think, and I guess Taemin must have been playing football with the others I could see, although I couldn’t recognize any of the people playing. Oh, and there was this lady with really pretty hair who had a box of papers and she was just, like, sitting there and crying. She had the part of her hair near her neck bleached and the outer layers were still black, and she was wearing a suit jacket with jean shorts, which is kind of a weird combination.”

Kun looked over his notes. “That’s really interesting. All of those things have happened since you left, definitely. Joy and her friends like to play games where they try to kill each other, because they’re all immortal. The red haired man was probably Taeyong, and the bunny man would be Doyoung. Ten is dating Johnny, and yes, he is pretty tall and has blonde hair. I haven’t seen Taemin-hyung in a while so I don’t know if he’s playing football again or not. I don’t know about the woman with the cool hair either.”

“Definitely Taeyeon-noona,” Jisung interjected. “She broke up with her boyfriend a few days ago, and she does have hair dyed like that right now.”

Kun raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Huh, I hope she’s doing okay. Actually I think maybe we should worry more about whoever she broke up with, she’s not exactly good with breakups.”

As though it’s a secret, Jisung’s next words came out in a whisper, and he leaned closer to Chenle and Kun. You had to strain a little to hear. “I heard it was a human. He, like, got super insecure about the fact that she wasn’t aging with him and broke up with her. It’s killing her. She really liked that guy.”

“Why did she get with him in the first place?” Chenle sounded absolutely confused. “She knew it would end like this. That’s how the last two ended.”

“I don’t know, but now I’m really worried for the guy,” said Kun. “We might have to cover up for her.” The implications of his words sank in and you made a small sound. All three men snapped their heads up and it looked as though they forgot you were there.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry Y/N! Do you have anywhere to stay where you’ll be safe for at least a few days? Jaemin’s cottage should be pretty easy to stay hidden in.”

“They don’t want to go and see him after what happened,” Chenle supplied helpfully. “I’m taking them back to my place once we’re done here.” Kun appeared to consider that, and then nodded his approval.

“That sounds alright. Tomorrow we can go out and get them some things to make their stay more comfortable. Maybe we can find one of the Outer Plots to put them on.”

“Outer Plots?” you asked, because the way he said it demanded capitalization in your head.

“They’re sort of exactly what they sound like,” Kun explained. “There are these pieces of land around the edges of the towns that nobody really lives on but they’re solid places to live, if we can get a good one. It’s a little bit like Jaemin’s land out there, lot’s of forest, so we can set up tree tunnels for you to get here fast, if you need to.”

You nodded. “That does sound pretty good. I don’t know what I’m going to do though, it’s not like I have all that many hobbies. I was midway through getting my bachelor’s when I left.”

“That’s fine,” Chenle said. “I have plenty of things to keep you entertained, and we can get some of the other guys to keep you company if we’re busy. There are a lot of us with a lot of open time. I also have a ton of extra textbooks from learning languages, so if you want you can spend your life becoming fluent in Japanese, Latin, French, German, Scottish Gaelic, Hawaiian, or one of the others I have. Or multiple, if you learn fast.”

“Thanks Chenle.” He wasn’t actually so bad, you thought. He had brought you to Kun and he was offering to let you use his house and his things. “I might just take you up on that.”

“You guys should probably leave now, actually,” Kun said. “At human speeds you’ll get home right on time.”

Chenle checked his watch and nodded. “He’s right. We should get going.”

You thanked Kun again and Chenle led you out the door, Jisung following behind you. You separated ways with him once you left the apartment building, his figure disappearing swiftly into the trees. Once you blinked there was no finding him again.

You walked behind Chenle quietly, choosing to observe your surroundings. You didn’t see much in the way of low quality or old houses here. It seemed as though a lower class had been eradicated entirely and the vampires could choose where they wanted to live. When you asked him how that was possible, Chenle laughed that peculiar screech of his and said, “when you’re reborn into a family of beings that has been around for millenia, you accumulate some shared wealth. Especially when some of the coven members have doctorate degrees and work on Earth full time, and some of us had familial connections as well, like money left in wills and such.”

You nodded. “So you guys are basically like the elite class of the universe.”

“Pretty much. My house is probably the biggest you’ll ever be in, because I like to splurge a little bit. Unfortunately you might get lost, though, and if you do, just call for me. I’ll make sure to be listening all night in case you need me.”

“It’s that big?” you asked in disbelief. “Do you live in Buckingham Palace?”

He grinned, showing off his incisors. “Bigger.”

“And you live alone?”

“Well, I haven’t always. Jisung and I will probably have sleepovers for all of eternity, and whenever a new coven starts they stay with me for a few days while they get their own living quarters set up, but for the most part, yes. I don’t actually spend a ton of time in the house, it’s more just for the sensation of owning a building that large.”

You shook your head. “As a broke college student, I find that completely unfair. I was working two jobs just to keep my head above water and you’re on this alternate plane just chilling in your house that’s bigger than Buckingham Palace.”

He smiled again. “Nobody said life was fair, Y/N. Nobody.”

☽༓☾

Three days and a shocking amount of Gaelic verbs later (you only got lost in Chenle’s palace four times), a house was ready for you to move in. Johnny and Ten had furnished it for you, and Chenle had explained that the two of them were the stylists of the coven, for the most part. The mysterious Yuta had also taken part in finding high quality fabrics to fit their vision. You had thanked the whole group of vampires who helped with the house profusely for not only building said house, but also for getting you a bunch of comfortable furniture. They had smiled and said it was their pleasure and all of the typical things, but what really stood out was Ten’s reaction. He had barely paid attention to you - he barely paid attention to anyone besides Johnny and Yangyang, who he called their baby - this whole time. When you had thanked him, however, he wrapped all but four of his tentacles around you in a surprisingly dry hug.

“It’s refreshing to have you around,” he had told you. “I’m glad we could help you get settled.”

Later as you reflected on it, you figured that it probably got pretty boring to know what was going to happen all of the time, and maybe you had disrupted the usual happenings of his visions and the vampires in Vahmpyr. Maybe you made other people happy too, to have a new person around.

One person who didn’t seem thrilled to have you back was Jaemin. Every time you made eye contact with him (twice, over the three days), he grimaced and turned away like the sight of you hurt him. Maybe he was mad that you were back within scenting range. He wouldn’t get near you, so it wasn’t like you could ask.

While settling into your new normal, you discovered that Chenle was actually a good friend. His love language was insults and pointed jabs, but he actually did care for his friends quite a lot. He had watched Jaemin from across your front yard as they were laying down grass seed and sighed.

“I wish he would just talk to you,” he told you sadly. “I’ve never, in all our years together, seen him like this. I’m not sure anyone has, even Taeil-hyung.” He didn’t elaborate on who Taeil was, and you didn’t press him. Was Jaemin really so mad that he couldn’t even look at you?

“Well,” you had said, “I don’t want to talk to him. He dumped me through an interplanar tunnel without warning me and yelled at me like the world was ending when I took a walk. I don’t think there’s much to be talked about. He must hate me.” Over Chenle’s shoulder, you had seen Jaemin flinch slightly. How strange. Part of you hoped that he felt the same pain that you did, a sort of ache that told you that you were unwanted. Another part of you murmured quietly in the back of your mind that you were being petty. You had chosen to ignore it for the time being. You were being petty, but so was he. He had thousands of years on you, so he should be the mature one, right?

“I don’t think he hates you. I think you both need to grow up and talk like adults,” Chenle had said flatly, orange hair seeming to flash in the sun. Jaemin sort of curled in on himself.

“Tell that to Mister Millenia before you lecture me on growing up,” you had replied. Then you reopened your Gaelic textbook and pretended to bury yourself in it, blatantly ignoring Chenle’s judgemental gaze.

“Fine,” he had muttered angrily. “You can both suffer for all I care.” Then he had stalked off and started pounding fence posts into the dirt so hard that Jeno had to tell him to take a break before he broke them.

You found yourself thinking about that moment as you walked through the trees, ironically on your way to see Jaemin. Since you had close to nothing to do , you had offered yourself up as an errand person to anyone that would hire and found yourself working for Kun running scrolls across Vahmpyr while he translated and examined them. It kept you busy and in shape, and Kun seemed happy with your service. This morning he had sent you to get the Scottish scroll back from Jaemin, along with a few other documents to pick up and drop off. You had saved this one for last, procrastinating on having to see him again. As his cottage came into full view, you sighed, preparing yourself for a cold shoulder and a very quick visit.

“Jaemin?” you called, knocking on the front door. It was closed for once, usually he kept it open for better air circulation. A moment later the door opened and there he stood, in all his cotton candy colored glory.

“Y/N? What’re you doing here?”

“Kun sent me, he wants that Scottish scroll back. He said he hopes you’re done translating it since you’re had it for a few weeks now,” you replied, willing your voice to stay professional. You were here for the scroll. When Jaemin didn’t reply, you looked up at him. “So? Where is it?”

“I don’t know why he sent you out like this, but I sent that scroll back three days ago, on our agreed upon date. I know he got it, because he sent me back a thank you with those little stickers he likes to use.”

“Oh. Um, I’ll just go then,” you muttered, turning around as you spoke. “Sorry I bothered you.”

Suddenly a hand was wrapped around your own, keeping you in place. Your breath caught in your throat, remembering the last time that had happened with a vampire. All that came out of Jaemin’s mouth, however, was, “Can I talk to you? Please?”

“Jaemin, please let me go,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. His hand released you immediately and you stepped a pace away from him and turned around so that you could see his face. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, uh, do you want some tea? I have some inside…” It was clear he hadn’t expected you to actually agree and he needed to collect his thoughts, so you nodded and he led you inside, sitting you on the familiar couch while he busied himself in the kitchen.

“I actually wanted to apologize,” Jaemin said after a minute. “I worried so much about protecting you that I forgot to let you enjoy your time here. It scared me how good you were at adjusting to this world, how much you liked being with Lucas and my other friends… I’m not used to humans reacting positively.” The kettle whistled and he took a moment to pour water into the mugs, steam rising gently from them in silvery whisps.

Once he poured the water, he continued speaking. “I wanted to make sure you knew that it wasn’t all fun and games here. I didn't want you to go looking for a place in our community because I was worried that you’d get killed. Vampires are pretty possessive of their property on Vahmpyr, for the most part, and you went right into one of the biggest apartment complexes within a day’s travelling distance - and that’s vampire distance, not human distance. Lucas told me about what happened with Yangyang, and I almost tore Yang’s arm off, I was so mad. He could have actually murdered you, and I couldn’t stomach the thought. What if Lucas hadn’t been home? What if Yangyang hadn’t given you that one moment to explain yourself? What if you had met another one of us on the stairs, without any protection? It terrified me to consider.” He walked over, a mug carried in each hand, and sat on the couch, leaving a large space in between you. It was strangely reminiscent of that first day, when he had explained Vahmpyr to you over soup.

“Of course,” Jaemin started, and you refocused. “That was only after I had sent you home, that he told me about that. When I dumped you in that tunnel, it was just fear of you being unsafe that made me so mad. The fact that you would willingly put yourself in danger, when I valued you so highly? Inconceivable. And yet, it happened. So I made another big mistake: I sent you home. I thought you would be better off there, regardless of what was happening. I knew you were healthy enough to walk to the city, so I thought you were fine. Apparently not. I heard from Chenle and Kun what happened to you back on Earth and it broke another part of me apart. I hurt you, in sending you back, not just in temporary emotional pain, but in physical pain that persisted through your entire stay. We still don’t know why you reacted the way you did, but it scared me to hear of it. I had made yet another mistake that could have killed you.” He paused to take a sip of his tea, and you did too. It was pleasant, not too hot and not too cold, just warming up your insides.

“Then the last straw came when you said I must hate you…” Jaemin’s voice broke slightly. “If anything, it’s the exact opposite, I realized I missed you more than I should, given you should be just a patient. I wanted to hug you the second I saw you, but you looked so mad to see me that I couldn’t do it. I was literally building a house for you and still couldn’t look you in the eyes for more than a moment. So I went home in shame, knowing that you were right, with thousands of years under my belt, I should be the more mature one. I decided that the next time I saw you, I would talk to you, no matter the circumstances. I couldn’t have you keep living thinking that I hated you. I didn’t actually expect you to come in when I asked. I thought I’d have to follow you through the woods, honestly.”

He fell silent, took another sip of his tea, and for the first time, you spoke. “I really didn’t want to talk to you. I wanted you to realize how much I hurt from your actions, but I think maybe I took that a little too far. I knew you were protecting me, but I really wanted to see somebody, and I knew you wouldn’t let me out, so I ran away. I didn’t really know what I was getting into. I probably should have asked you to accompany me, at least. Not my finest moment.”

Jaemin laughed weakly, taking another sip of tea. “Not mine either. I should have trusted you more.”

“And I shouldn’t have run off without even asking for your help..”

He smiled at you, that gorgeous little smile that made your heart smile back.

“Friends?” you asked.

He hesitated for only a moment, a strange sort of disappointment flashing across his face, before he was extending his hand to meet yours. “Friends.”

You grinned at him, finishing your tea. “Great. Now I need to go yell at Kun for sending me out to see you when I didn’t need to.”

“Isn’t it good that he did?” Jaemin asked with a confused frown on his face.

“Well yes, but it was a very Cupid-like thing to do, wasn’t it? I don’t tolerate my friends trying to play Cupid with myself and my other friends.” You stood up and walked your empty tea cup to the kitchen. “Do you want to come?”

He laughed. “No, you can just tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded. “Alright.”

You walked out into the cool twilight and started going towards Kun’s house. He had a big storm coming.

☽༓☾

A few days later, you were sitting in Jaemin’s cottage again, Gaelic textbook open on your lap. Since he was close to fluent in the language, he was helping you learn it. It wasn’t an extraordinarily difficult language, but some of the words were hard to pronounce and he had been eager to help you.

“Look here,” he said, pointing at some words on the page. “Say this for me.”

“Tha gaol agam ort,” you replied. He grinned.

“That’s how it’s written, but not how it’s said. Okay, now listen to me pronounce it. ‘Ha geul akeum orsht’. Repeat that for me.”

“‘Ha geul akeum orsht’? That’s how you say that?” you demanded. “This is like French! They don’t spell things anywhere close to how they’re said!”

“Unfortunately, most languages don’t. The same goes for Korean verb conjugations and English words and, yes, French everything, but it’s just learning new rules. After a while you understand it. I promise that you’ll get it eventually. You have the rest of your life.”

You looked over at him suddenly, questions rising to the forefront over Gaelic words. “Am I really going to stay here forever? Am I never going to see Earth again, just sit here as a useless human surrounded by powerful and immortal vampires, until I die?”

He seemed surprised by the questions. “I’m not sure any of us had really thought about it,” he said carefully.

“You all had just accepted the fact that I was stuck on your plane of existence with nothing worth doing to do? When am I going to use Scottish Gaelic, Jaemin? When will this actually come in handy, except to distract me? I’m here to do nothing, and the moment I go back to Earth, I start suffering. What am I meant to do here, Jaem?”

Jaemin gently lifted the textbook from your lap and put in on his coffee table, then pulled you into his side for a hug. You snuggled into him, inhaling the scent of sunshine and warm earth. Comfort.

“I don’t know exactly how to make you feel better,” Jaemin murmured from somewhere above your head. “But we all like having you around, you know that. It’s nice to have someone young around. We haven’t turned a human in about thirty years, so the novelty has worn off, and here we have this beautiful creature who is new in so many ways. You’re refreshing, and you’re human, so you’ll continue to be refreshing.”

“Well, thank you,” you said, muffled in his side. “But still, I don’t feel like I have anything worth doing here. You can all do anything I can do, just ten times faster. I have no unique skills or brains or anything. So what am I meant to do? I can’t even go spy on the other humans or anything because I can’t go back to Earth!”

Jaemin shifted you a little bit in his arms and started rubbing your shoulder softly. “Is there anything you particularly enjoy doing? Maybe you could do art, or gardening? Or I have this book of old forms of witchcraft?”

You turned to face him. “You have a book of witchcraft sitting around?”

He released you and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I found a papyrus scroll in this ruined Egyptian city, and I kept it just ‘cause it was cool. Then I learned hieroglyphics so that I could translate it and made a copy. Unfortunately, witchcraft is… not my strong suit, and I’m somewhat afraid of giving it away in case I never see it again. I spent a lot of time and energy on that translation.”

“And you want me to use it?” you asked, confused. Why on earth would he give it to you if he didn’t trust the perfectly composed vampires around him? “I mean it sounds super cool, but aren’t you worried about it being in my hands? I am a human, after all.”

“Well-”

Jaemin was cut off at that moment by a sharp knock on the door. At least, you assumed it was a knock, it sounded a little bit more like a wet thwap than a knock. Jaemin blurred slightly as he ran over to the door and opened it, revealing cloudy skies dropping rain onto a harried-looking Ten.

“Ten-hyung?” he asked, sounding as confused as you felt. “I’d say this is a nice surprise, but why are you here? I thought today was your Earth day? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Ten said, gasping slightly as he spoke. “I ran straight here from the Pacific.” You took a second to think about the fact that Ten was swimming in the Pacific Ocean before refocusing on him. “-future just completely shifted, a few minutes ago. Y/N-” He turned to face you completely. “Whatever you two just did, it caused you to become a vampire in the future.”

“But we were just talking?” you told him, confused. “It wasn’t like Jaem was about to bite me.” You turned to Jaemin. “Right?”

He looked at you solemnly. “If you were going to have been bitten by me, it would have already happened. Ten-hyung, are you sure that they’re a vampire in your future? Can you see more details?”

Ten closed his eyes briefly like he was trying to focus, and in the meantime a tentacle wrung the salt and rain water out of his hair. Jaemin wrinkled his nose at the growing puddle. Ten spoke, eyes fluttering open slowly. “In the parts I can see, they’re covered in this, like, tree? It’s a little bit fuzzy. It’s green, and looks like it has brown splotches like branches. Maybe a tree falls on them or something. Anyway, you take one look at them and bite ‘em. They go limp... After that? Fuzzy scenes of them waking up and you taking them running. Like, really running. Vampire running.

Jaemin took a shaky breath. “Okay, I don’t know why our conversation would have caused a tree to fall on them in the future. We were talking about, like, Earth and art and stuff. Oh, and my witchcraft book.”

Ten’s eyes refocused on him, narrowing slightly. “You’re going to give them your witchcraft book after not letting me touch it? That’s a little underhanded.” His eyes narrow briefly before looking at you. “But maybe that’s it. You’ll just have to make sure that they don't practice any witchcraft under the cover of trees. Otherwise I think you’ll be fine. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks Ten,” you murmured. “For, like, warning us and stuff.”

“Of course. Now I need to go back to the Pacific. Ta ta!” Ten waved to you and walked out the door.

“Well,” Jaemin said, “that’s some news, huh?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Do you think that it’s okay for me to practice witchcraft with this in my future?”

“I do. I think you’ll be fine. We’ll keep you as safe as we possibly can, and if you become a vampire… at least it won’t be because I gave in. I’ll still be strong.”

“Jaem, I don’t think that was ever in question.”

“It was for me.” His voice went dark momentarily, then he brightened up again. “At any rate, I think we can safely teach you some things that’ll keep life interesting.”

You grinned. “Then let’s get started.”

☽༓☾

You were surprised at how easily witchcraft came to you, in the beginning. Jaemin insisted that you had some sort of gift with it, and as much as you told him that was silly, it seemed possible. You could easily understand instructions on Jaemin’s careful translations that even he couldn’t decipher. You gave up on Gaelic after a while, focused more on learning the original Egyptian Hieroglyphs of the spells and potions. You trusted Jaemin’s precise translation, but there was something unique about seeing an instruction in a new language and being able to understand it.

Days turned to weeks as you experimented with the materials growing in and around Vahmpyr. Taeil, who you eventually met, turned out to be a valuable resource. He was an avid collector of ancient written works, including but not limited to an original Greek copy of The Odyssey, Chinese bamboo books saved from the book burnings of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, and an exact replica of the Rosetta Stone. Taeil must have been ancient himself to have all of these valuables, but he still had the energy of the far younger members of their coven, which amazed you. He showed you different specialties of different cultures within witchcraft, ideas born from scrolls and tablets, bamboo strips and wax blocks. It was far more information than you could ever decipher or use during your short human life, but every day you got better, starting out small with poultices that you had to injure yourself to try and ward spells that exhausted you but could make your home more secure than any in Vahmpyr (or on Earth).

At one point Chenle gifted you a book covered in old stains and strangely familiar drawings that you started to use before abruptly realizing that it was an old chemistry textbook. You invited him over that afternoon and whacked him over the head with the thick pages. He told you with a disgruntled look that he put a lot of effort into that, thank you very much. And besides, chemistry was a magic in itself. (His words, not yours.) After that you made sure to thoroughly inspect any gifts you received from the more mischievous family members.

Lucas came over and helped you set up more complicated equipment that you couldn’t lift, like a big cauldron, which you actually did use on the regular after you learned how to use it, and after some consideration you set up a chemistry station for the odd experiment. At this point your house was more magical items than actual living space, something that Kun was quick to point out when he came over.

“You know, you should really be more careful about having all of these powders and dusts and-” He cut himself off with a distasteful wrinkle of his nose. “Things.” He pursed his lips, looking at you. “We don’t really know what these things will do to you in the long run. You have to be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded distractedly, making his coffee and a drink for yourself. “Maybe I’ll clean it all up sometime, but you know I’m awfully busy these days.” You used a spoon to stir in the milk and sugar, tapping the metal against the china in a soft clink.

He sighed tiredly. “Your health is less important than staying busy?”

You gave him a look that you hoped conveyed your need to stay busy, to continuously learn and improve. “Keeping my schedule full keeps me healthy, Kun. At least mentally.”

Kun didn’t look impressed by your reasoning. “I think your mental health will go down pretty quickly if you get sick and can’t do anything because you’re stuck in bed twenty-four-seven.”

You gave a sigh of your own at that. “And as always,” you announced to the room at large, “Doctor Kun gives amazing advice that I shouldn’t ignore but probably will.”

Y/n,” he said in a warning tone. “Seriously. You need to be careful! No human has ever lived here for so long, and I worry about you catching some mysterious illness that nobody has ever heard of!”

“Kun, I will do my best to keep myself healthy. I’ve put every kind of ward that I can around my house to protect me, I have magically circulated and cleaned air, I have literal superhumans to protect me from anything else, and I’m happy here! I finally have something to contribute. Maybe someday I’ll find some concoction or enchantment that will let me visit Earth, even. I just don’t know. But I’m going to keep trying.”

He took his coffee out of your grasp and walked back into the living room, which housed your indoor plants, magical and earthly. “That’s all I can ask,” he said, voice betraying his disappointment in that fact. “I’ll still give you monthly checkups for a while though, just to make sure.

“Can’t Jaemin take care of me?” you asked, thinking of Jaemin with his warm smile and caring words and the smell of sun on dirt and- well. Jaemin felt like safety in a person. Kun was wonderful, but Jaemin was just that little bit better, that little bit more comfortable to be around.

“He could,” Kun replied after taking a sip of coffee. “But I know he’s been busy lately though, he’s been on Earth for a few days checking on all of his businesses and stocks and his human personas. On the other hand, I hardly go back to Earth for more than a twelve hour shift here and there.”

“I understand.”

“Plus, I’m about two thousand years older than Jaemin, I have a lot of experience.”

“How old are you?” Two thousand years older than Jaemin would make Kun… pretty darn old.

Kun grinned. “I was around before and after Jesus came to Earth. I was around before the Terracotta Army was built. I was born in China circa when the Hanging Gardens of Babylon are said to have been built. Taeil-hyung turned me into a vampire when I was twenty five, and I’ve been twenty five ever since. None of us know when he was born. When you’re as old as he is, even with a vampire’s memory, history starts to blend together. He says he remembers the Pyramids at Giza going up, though, and that was after he had been a vampire for what he thinks was a few hundred years. He’s literally prehistoric.”

“Wow,” was all you could think to say. No wonder Taeil had so many artifacts. He was one. Kun was too, for that matter. And Jaemin… Jaemin would have been born AD, but how far into it? You asked Kun this question and he chuckled.

“Jaemin was born in fourteen forty two. He was twenty when Jeno turned him, and he’s still twenty, five hundred years later.”

“Who turned Taeil, then? I can hardly imagine a vampire older than him, even.”

“We’re not sure. Whoever it was is so unimaginably old now that even I can’t comprehend it. But whoever the original vampire was must have turned a whole lot of people. There are dozens more vampires just within our small community, and an entire plane full of them. From what I can tell, Taeil isn’t even the oldest. There’s this man who lives in the mountains by himself, and from what I hear, he hasn’t been seen by another vampire in nearly three thousand years. He’s almost a myth around here anymore. Taeil knew him back when Vahmpyr was sparsely populated, and he told us that the man - his name is Jinyoung Park - is older than him by so many years that he is to Taeil as Taeil is to me. He probably lived before Mesopotamia existed, even, or was right at the beginning of it. Before him, we have no idea who the first vampire was. If that vampire is still alive, he she or they hasn't been seen since, well, before living memory. If they still exist that would mean that vampires have been around since before modern humanity. I really wish we knew.”

“I wish you knew too,” you breathed. You had never really considered that immortality meant that the same vampires who existed before the Pyramids at Giza still lived among humanity today. It was mind boggling. The history in just their brains alone could fill thousands of textbooks and solve history’s greatest mysteries. But they couldn’t show themselves to the humans without risk. Even the people that they bit and sent back to Earth wouldn’t dare talk about their experiences, for fear of sounding crazy. Their gift to the world would never be wrapped up in gold tissue paper and presented with the proper awe, but here you were, in this modern metropolis of history. It truly hurt your brain to consider everything that came with that sort of age.

Just then a yell came from outside. “Kun-ge! Are you with Y/N?!” It sounded suspiciously like a panicked Yangyang. He never got panicked.

Kun stood up and hurried over to the front door, blurring in his hurry. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Well, uh, we may or may not have set Yuta’s house on fire…” Yangyang’s voice trailed off as Kun’s face reacted. First his eyebrows raised, then his mouth dropped open, and finally his eyes squeezed shut before reopening after a moment.

“You did what?”

Yangyang’s voice was small. “We set Yuta’s house on fire?” His voice was so high and squeaky that it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me, and Hyuck, and Taemin-hyung.”

“Oh my,” Kun said, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “I am going to murder Taemin-hyung.” He turned to Yangyang. “I might murder you and Donghyuck too.”

“We didn’t mean to,” Yangyang said. “It just happened.”

“You didn’t mean to set Yuta’s house on fire? How do you accidentally set someone’s house on fire?”

“You put on an impromptu fire show right next to the house, mess up a trick, and accidentally throw a flaming baton on their house. It was surprisingly easy. Anyway, I know that you would know what to do. You and Y/N both.”

Kun ran his hand through his hair again. You watched as a few light brown strands flew to the carpet with the force of it. “Y/N, do you have anything for flaming houses?”

You looked around your living room as though that would help you remember whether you did or not. “I think so, let me check my storage room,” you muttered, already dashing away. You did, in fact, have something that you loosely translated from the Egyptian spell scroll as “Fire Away Goop,” or something similar. It was a green, nearly transparent goop that sloshed in its bottle but it was too thick to really flow. It oozed more than anything. When it hit heat, it tended to solidify into a more solid green that would be easily removable from Yuta’s house, if said house was still there by the time you got to wherever it was. You grabbed the bottle and rushed back to the living room, panting. Kun turned to you.

“Is it okay if I carry you, to make sure we get there in time?”

“Won’t I be too heavy?”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “We’re literally the strongest things known to man. I’ll be fine.”

“Then sure. Let’s go save Yuta’s house!”

Kun carried you piggyback as fast as he could, your face tucked into his shoulder to avert most of the vertigo induced by such high speeds. Trees flashed by in browns and greens, and then you were going through the city, past the city, through more trees, in a rush that you couldn’t quite comprehend but which caused a sinking feeling to settle in your gut. Yuta’s house was far away. By the time you got there, the house was fully consumed by the flames, the fire burning merrily without knowledge that it was ruining a man’s home.

A man, presumably Yuta, stood out front, another man on his knees next to him. Once you were next to them, you realized that the standing man had the kneeling man’s ear in a tight grip. You figured that the man on his knees must have been the infamous Donghyuck.

“Yuta-hyung, Hyuck,” Kun greeted them as he set you on the ground.

“Yangyang,” said Yuta, turning around, “You’re a bit late.” He nodded at you and Kun in acknowledgement, as Donghyuck yelped at the tug on his ear. Yuta had black hair streaked through with neon green, and it framed a narrow face and startlingly pink lips. You wondered, in the back of your head, if he used lip tint. You also briefly entertained the idea that he contoured his face, because there was no way that he looked that good without makeup. He’s a vampire, your consciousness provided. All of them look that good.

“Sorry hyung,” Yangyang murmured. “We came as fast as we could!”

Kun stepped forward. “We brought Y/N, as you can see, and they have something to put the fire out.” Something like hope sparked in Yuta’s eyes as he looked over you again, taking in details of your appearance.

“Do you really? Well, go ahead.” He gestured to the house and the flames danced in your face, leaving you to hope that this gloop worked for fires this big. You took a deep breath and poured the goop onto the grass, where it oozed between the blades of grass like a big blob of snot on the lawn.

“Atlaq alnaar,” you murmured to it, and it rose into the air, following your mental directions toward the fire. The moment they made contact, the goop started to solidify and expand, covering the fire rapidly. Green overtook bright reds and oranges as you focused on the fire and made the goop cover it.

“Y/N!” Someone was calling to you, their voice out of focus as though you heard them from underwater. “You’ll get covered!” You were vaguely aware of a hand trying to lead you away, but the spell kept you rooted in place, your feet seemingly super glued to the lawn. You kept focus on the fire as the last flames were overtaken and put out. Yuta’s house was now a giant green blob. From what you could see through the jello-like goop, it had sustained a minimal amount of damage considering the amount of flames you had seen. You were so engrossed in the green substance that you missed the warning signs before it swallowed you up too, ever expanding.

It took your outstretched hands first, pulling you forward into it. Through your panic you had just enough brain power left to be amazed at how thick it was before your feet and legs were covered too, nearly encased in the goop. You leaned your head back as far as you could, trying to keep yourself in the open air, but the goop kept expanding. You felt more than saw the vampires try to dig you out, but while the spell still fueled it, the goop was surprisingly strong. A hand grasped your elbow as the goop grasped your neck and chin, keeping you completely still as it covered more of you. The hand let go. It couldn’t do anything now.

You took a deep breath just before the goop covered your mouth, nose, and eyes. You thought you felt something on the back of your neck but didn’t think much of it until it started burning. Any strength you had left crumbled as your eyes started stinging and your oxygen ran out. You couldn't see, but it felt as though the world was spinning around you, as though you had been disconnected from everything but the pain. Even through your lightheadedness the pain persisted. It had spread now, from your neck over your shoulders like the creeping vines on the back wall of Jaemin’s cottage.

Jaemin.

You realized through your hazy thoughts that you would never see him again. Your eyes and nose burned now, from tears you couldn’t cry and the pain slowly enveloping you.

You couldn’t hold on any longer.

Black.

☽༓☾

Across a forest and a small town, Jaemin was working on his Hindi pronunciation when Ten burst into his home for the second time in what seemed like a very short period. He wasn’t dripping this time, just looked thoroughly terrified of something.

“Jaemin! They need help!”

“What? Who?” Jaemin stood up and walked over to his friend. Ten’s tentacles curled and uncurled repeatedly as he spoke.

“Y/N! The vision got sharper, which usually means it’s happening. The green blob wasn’t a tree, it was some sort of spell! They’re going to die if we don’t get there fast.”

“Where are we going?” Jaemin demanded as they ran through the trees around his cabin.

“Yuta’s house. Or, at least, where it used to be.”

“What happened to Yuta’s house?”

“Yangyang and Hyuck burned it down.”

“Ah.”

Ten was panting as he continued speaking. “I think that must be what the spell was for. Some sort of fire putter-outer.”

Jaemin tried to think back to all of the books he had given you, recalling a spell that sounded suspiciously like what Ten described. “If the one I think you’re talking about is the spell they used,” he told Ten, “we might not be able to save them by the time we get there.” A pang echoed through his chest. An empty feeling, as though your small human life had affected his own so strongly as to make him miss you without knowing that you were gone. Jaemin ran on, leaving Ten behind when he paused to rest, sprinting at his highest speed towards where you were.

When he arrived on Yuta’s plot, most of his vision turned green, not because things were actually green, but from the sheer size of the lime coloured stuff all over Yuta’s house. He had been correct when he guessed at which spell you had used. His gaze fell on Kun, Yangyang, Yuta, and Donghyuck, who stood at the still-expanding base of the blob, seemingly trying to get something out. He gasped. You were in the thing. He ran up and tried to help the others dig you out, to no avail. They couldn't do anything against the spell so long as you were alive, and he wasn’t about to kill the person he had worked so hard to protect. He tried to hold onto your elbow as it was swallowed, but was afraid of hurting you. They all watched as you took a deep breath and the gloop covered your face.

Jaemin slumped, out of ideas. There was no way to save you that he knew of. Then he thought back to Ten’s vision. He had to change you. It was the only way. You wouldn’t need to breathe, wouldn’t need to do anything. You could still be here with him. It was with that in mind that he lunged forward at the last moment and latched onto your neck, stretching his jar as wide as it would go. His fangs, already dripping uncomfortably with venom in your presence, sank into your veins, and he felt it as you stiffened slightly. You couldn’t move much in your current situation, but your muscles seized all the same. He stayed next to you as long as he could, until he was in danger of being swallowed into the goop as well. He licked the wounds closed as efficiently as possible and stepped back with the others to see what happened.

It was obvious that you had gone unconscious. The goop stopped moving so rapidly and seemed to pause in its conquest of the front yard. It started oozing slowly around again, creating something of a reverse muffin top as the top shell hardened and the bottom bits leaked out. They backed up to the edge of the yard and Jaemin used his (admittedly small) knowledge of spellcraft to create wards that would protect the house down the street and hopefully contain the goo. They watched in silence as the green kept expanding. Then Yangyang spoke.

“Will Y/N die?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jaemin slowly. “They shouldn’t, at any rate. I bit them.”

A collective tremor went around the group, as though none of them wanted to appear surprised but they all were.

“It was the only thing I could think of that gave Y/N a chance, so I had to try it,” Jaemin continued. “But Kun-hyung knows more than me on that subject.”

Kun looked pensive as he considered what Jaemin had said. “It should work, in theory. But between the wards always up around Y/N’s house, this spell, and the venom in their system, their body might now be able to take it. It’s just a game of chance, unless we can find some way to take some stress off of their body.”

They all looked to Jaemin again.

“Is there some way to break the wards that they have up?” Yuta asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin said, frowning. “Not without taxing them further. We definitely can’t affect this spell without killing them, and as far as the transformation goes, we’d need to be able to get to their body in there. That’s obviously not happening either.”

“So what can we do?” Donghyuck’s voice was small and he sounded almost repentant, as though he thought this whole thing was his fault. It sort of was, but it was odd to hear that tone from him.

“We ask Ten what he can see of the future and go from there,” Jaemin said. “There’s not much else that we can do, unless anyone knows someone better with spells than Y/N.”

The whole group shook their heads. Spells could be cast by any human variant creature that they knew of, but spellcraft was a human specialty. You in particular were gifted beyond what they had seen in a very long while.

While they thought about it, Ten burst forth from the trees down the street and ran towards their group. He slowed down as he took in the blob, now pressing against the wards that contained it. Jaemin could feel a subtle sort of pressure in his head as his spells kept the goop within Yuta’s plot.

“So?” Ten asked Jaemin as he walked up. “Did it work?”

“We’re not sure. They’re not dead, or the Fire Away spell would have gone small and liquidy again. On the other hand, none of us know any way to get them out, and Kun-hyung’s worried about the toll that all of this” - he waved his hands at the blob - “will kill them while they turn. We wanted to ask what you were seeing as of now.”

Ten closed his eyes, most of his tentacles going still as he focused. There was one that whacked anxiously against the dirt beneath him, beating a steady rhythm against the earth. After a few minutes, his eyes opened and he refocused his eyes on the group around him.

“Well?” Yangyang prompted when he didn’t speak. Ten sighed.

“Good news is that they’re probably not going to die.”

“And the bad news?”

“They might die.”

“What do you mean, Ten-hyung?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell which future is the one that will come true. It’s like there are two possible ways for the future to go, and neither of them is solid. Either they make it through, or they die. The worst part is that I can’t tell what causes their death. It could happen two seconds from now, or two hours, or two days. I just don’t know.”

“I don’t remember your visions ever having two outcomes,” Kun said, brows furrowed.

“I haven’t ever had one like this.”

“Well,” Jaemin said, “I’ll just stay here until they wake up.”

“And where should I go?” asked Yuta. “Maybe nobody told you, but this is my house that just got burned down.” He threw a glare at Hyuck and Yangyang.

“Go stay with Mark-hyung or something. You sleep over with him all the time anyway,” Donghyuck suggested, and Yuta grinned, a complete change from two seconds before.

“He’ll hate that. See you guys later!” He skipped a few steps before running full tilt, phone in his hands and fingers tapping. The glow of the screen disappeared quickly from Jaemin’s view, and he turned back to their now-smaller group.

“Are you sure that you want to stay here until they wake up?” Kun asked Jaemin. “I know that you don’t need sleep or anything, but that seems like a waste of time.”

“I have eternity,” Jaemin told him. “I just need to be here to watch it deflate, whether it’s because they’re turned or because…” His voice went weak. He couldn't see you die. He just couldn’t. Kun patted him on the shoulder.

“Okay. We’ll come check on you tomorrow.” As he walked away with Yangyang and Donghyuck, Jaemin heard Kun’s ‘mom voice’ come out as he lectured on the dangers of playing with fire. It made Jaemin smile a little.

His head was starting to feel uncomfortable with the pressure of his wards, so he carefully widened them, centimeter by centimeter, until there was less gloop on them. He couldn’t keep this up until you completed the transformation, he knew, but it would work for now. Maybe he could call Kibum-hyung tomorrow for help.

Until then all he had to do was sit and wait, and look at your form encased in neo pearl champagne colored jello.

☽༓☾

It was exactly twenty five hours, forty minutes, and nine seconds since Jaemin had first settled in when the goop started deflating. The hard casing that had developed collapsed in on itself when the slightly softer insides began to shrink, reminding Jaemin slightly of Honey Lemon and her chemical reactions in Big Hero 6. He sprang to his feet, rushing forward to where he could see the outline of your body inside the collapsing bubble, grabbing the empty decanter that the goop had once been held in. He scooped up the small oozing goop that remained from the spell and plugged the decanter, turning around slowly to look at your body once more.

As your still-limp body collapsed to the ground, Jaemin felt his unbeating heart sink. You didn’t move, there was no rise and fall to your chest. There was no sound of your breath in the air. Your eyes didn’t roll around under your eyelids. You seemed… corpselike. Dead. But it couldn’t be. Ten had said that you would probably survive! Jaemin opened his phone and pressed Ten’s contact to call it. He answered on the third ring.

“Jaemin? What’s up?”

“Ten-hyung,” Jaemin said, and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Y/N… I think, is dead?”

Ten sucked in a breath, audible even through the phone. “Jaemin I’m so sorry-”

Jaemin cut him off. “Hyung, you said they would make it!”

“There was always that chance that they wouldn’t-”

“But you said-” Jaemin’s voice cracked again and he fell into silence. He couldn’t cry, and he had never wished he could until now. Tears might convey the hole in his chest, the emptiness of his existence without your life to partner him.

“Jaemin,” came Ten’s voice, and it was soft, delicate. “I’m so so sorry. I thought that they would make it, but there was always that second path. I can’t-” He took a deep breath. “I can’t see them anymore. I think… I think they might be gone.”

“No!” Jaemin exclaimed hotly. “They can’t be!”

“Jaemin-”

He hung up. Whatever Ten-hyung had to say wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t bring you back. He was along now, with your body and this stupid Flame Away Goop that had managed to take your life despite Ten’s prophecies and Jaemin’s best efforts. The person that you were was gone. Now you were just a still corpse, a painful reminder of what could have been and what should have been and what couldn’t be.

“I’ll give you a proper funeral,” Jaemin told your body as he lifted it into his arms gently. “I promise.”

☽༓☾

For the next three days, Jaemin worked non-stop. He prepared a funeral for you, ignored everyone except to invite them to the event. He could still picture your smile, the way he had to support you those first few steps. He remembered how you had called him gorgeous, how you had said I love you in Gaelic to him without knowing what it meant. He recalled the trust you had for him despite his own occasional self-loathing, the way you had reminded him of his worth every time you were around him.

He missed you. He missed you a lot.

People had called him, came knocking once an hour. He eventually just shut off his phone so he didn’t have to hear their pleas for him to let them in. All of his hyungs and all of his noonas came to make sure he was okay, but would he ever be? There was a Y/N shaped hole in him that he didn’t think could ever be filled up again. Jeno came around three times a day with hug offerings, but Jaemin shut him out. He knew it hurt his friends, knew they only wanted to help, but you were gone and nobody understood. Nobody had loved you the way he had. Nobody had your blood quite literally on their hands, flowing through their veins.

It hurt to think about that. He “lived” while you were dead; he had gained life through your death and that was the most ironic thing. In his attempt to save you, he may have killed you.

He hurt.

On the fourth day since your death, Jaemin gently dressed your body in the best clothes he could find, brushed your hair, and put you in a casket, standing you in an open clearing, the one where he had tried to send you back to Earth. It was the largest clearing nearby, and all of the vampires that had met you plus Ten came to pay their respects. They spoke about the short time they had known you, and the strong impact you had made despite that. They told of how you had gone back to Earth and suffered until you had returned. They told of your feats practicing witchcraft and most of all they spoke of your kindness, the lack of repulsion towards them. They spoke of your kind smile and the way you had fit in so nicely with their community.

Jaemin started not-crying, as vampires did, and he thought he would be alone, but Jeno joined him. Lucas joined him. Jisung and Chenle joined him. Ten and Johnny joined him. He was not the only one who had loved you. Donghyuck joined him. Yangyang and Yuta and Kun joined him. He was not the only one who felt that your death was his fault.

Jaemin was not the only person who choked out their words in an imitation of crying. Jaemin was not the only person who missed you. Jaemin was not the only one who wanted you back. Jaemin was not the only one.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed his friends until they surrounded him in a huge hug. It wasn’t a warm hug, necessarily, but it was a hug nonetheless and made him feel better. He was not the only one.

He was still dealing with the hole in his chest, but he had others to patch himself up with now. Like each person who had known you could bring a part of you back through their memories of you. It was nice almost.

☽༓☾

The first thing you realized 2qs that you could hear again. Your ears were uncovered, and you vaguely registered words being choked out somewhere near you. It sounded like a large number of people were very sad about something. You wondered what it could be. The second thing you realized was that you were laying down on some sort of padded… thing. It felt like too much work to open your eyes, so you felt around and realized that you were in a padded box. A padded box? That was new.

You tried to sniff the air and were met with the smell of cologne, not too strong but apparently on enough people that it permeated the air. You got hints of perfume too, but it was far less strong. Something in the box shifted and you felt breaths on your face. Were people looking at you in your sleep? Come to think of it, why were these many people around you while you slept at all? That seemed sort of rude. You tried to remember getting here but came up blank. Your last memories were of the pain before you passed out. You shivered at the memory.

“They’re awake!” someone shouted. The noise hurt your ears after the deafening silence of your previous state, and you itched to get away from them. A murmur of sound rolled through the room and then a familiar scent invaded your senses, that of sun-warmed earth.

“Y- Y/N?” Jaemin asked hesitantly. “Can you hear me? Are you in there?”

He sounded absolutely wrecked, like his voice had been stripped of his usual honey and sunshine. You tried to open your eyes, but it was too bright and you just couldn’t, so you nodded slightly.

“Oh my- Y/N,” he continued. “Can’t you open your eyes for me, please?”

You shook your head no.

“Okay, that’s fine, sweetheart. Let me get you out of there.” There was the sound of something wooden being bonked against a wall, but that faded in comparison to the name. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

You were lifted gently from your padded box and carried somewhere shady and cold. It felt nice against your skin. He felt nice against your skin. He carried you gently, like you were made of glass, but you felt surprisingly strong, just out of sorts. As though while your mind struggled to catch up, your body had strengthened. It was a very different sensation to that of your first time waking up in Jaemin’s house. He walked you through what you thought must be the forest for a bit before he sat down and nestled you into his side. You felt as though some muscles should be unhappy about the position, but you felt completely comfortable.

“Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice came to you, soft and warm and familiar. It was shaking slightly. “Can you open your eyes for me now?”

You focused on your eyelids, raising them slowly until you could see Jaemin. He had on a suit; black jacket over a white shirt, accented by a thin black ribbon tied loosely around his neck. His pink hair fell neatly in waves over his forehead and you reached up to brush away a piece that had fallen over his eyes, smiling.

“Hey Jaem. What happened?” Your voice wasn’t weak, like you supposed it should have been. It came out like a melody into the air, and you marvelled internally at the sound of it, how smooth it was. It felt nice.

“You-” Jaemin broke off for a second, rearranging your limbs next to him. “You were trying to save Yuta’s house. We had to rebuild part, but it’s fine. He stayed with Mark for a few days. For the most part, your spell worked. But then, it- it swallowed you. I got there in time to watch as you were absorbed by this green goop and I thought I was too late. I bit you, back here.” He brushed his fingers gently over the sides of your neck and you shivered. “But you didn’t wake up… I thought I was too late. You weren’t breathing, and you weren’t awake… I have no idea how you managed to cancel the spell without waking up or dying. So I-” He made a choked up sound and tightened his arm around your shoulders. “We’re at your funeral. Ten couldn’t see your future anymore, so we thought you were dead…” He trailed off.

“Wow,” you said. “I died? Then how am I here now? I feel alive?”

“It worked. It must have. You don’t have a heartbeat, but you’re awake. I don’t know what happened exactly, but you must be a vampire now.”

“Huh. I thought I’d feel more… hungry.”

He laughed. It glittered over your ears and you smiled, an involuntary reaction to him. “It’ll kick in, don’t worry.”

“What about the others? I mean, Lucas and Kun and everyone? Are they just at my funeral right now? Without me?”

“Oh.” Jaemin looked as though he had forgotten about them. “I guess they are. Let’s go see them?”

“Let’s.”

☽༓☾

After that day, it didn’t take you long to realize that the other vampires were purposefully putting you with Jaemin for just about everything. On days where you went to hang out with Lucas, he would ask you how Jaemin was doing. If you didn’t know, he would suggest that you go and visit him. Kun asked you to make sure that Jaemin was feeling okay. Yuta, who you were finally allowed to meet and hang out with, constantly suggested that you should spend more time with him. It was strange. Nobody had seemed to mind that you had your own hobbies before your transformation, but now that you were a vampire, it was as though you were meant to be with Jaemin all of the time. You asked Lucas about it once you got sick of the mysterious treatment and he looked at you heavily.

“When you got trapped in that goopy stuff, Jaemin went all weird. He didn’t move for, like, more than 24 hours, and once he thought you were dead… he didn’t talk to any of us until the funeral. We worry about him, and you seem to make him really happy, so we’re trying to keep you two around each other.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you chose the very eloquent “oh,” as your response. Lucas chuckled.

“I know. It was really weird, I’ve never seen him like that. I think we’ve seen a lot of new sides of Jaemin since you came along.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s… well, I don’t think it’s bad or good. It just is. You affect him differently than anyone else we know.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“Y/N, you idiot, he’s in love with you.”

“He’s what?”

Lucas sighed. “He’s in love with you.”

“Why do you think that? This is Jaemin we’re talking about here. Jaemin. He’s, like, beauty incarnate and he’s smart and kind and wonderful in every aspect of everything. He just can’t be in love with me.”

“He’s in love with you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He can't be.”

“Why not?”

“I just told you why.”

Lucas sighed again, more deeply. “But you’re in love with him.”

“I-” You consider that. “I guess?”

“That wasn’t a question.” He rolled his eyes.

“Do you think it’s possible that he actually does like me back?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, after that, Lucas managed to steer the conversation onto other subjects and you refocused on those things, but it echoed in your head. He’s in love with you.

☽༓☾

Even with this new information bouncing around the forefront of your brain, you still had to go and spend time with Jaemin. Maybe it was a little strange for your thoughts to short circuit when you saw him, the little whisper of what if in your head. Maybe it was a little peculiar for a vampire such as yourself to stutter through sentences because you were busy thinking about what life would be like if he really did like you back. Maybe you spent less time talking on your walks together because you wanted to lay next to him in a clearing and watch the clouds instead. Just maybe.

If Jaemin noticed any of your strange behaviour, he didn’t call you out on it. He either really wasn’t paying all that much attention, or he knew enough about you to know that you wouldn’t want him to pry. It was strange, really, how well you knew each other in such a short time. You supposed that since you spent so much time together it wasn’t improbable, but he knew you nearly as well as your old human friends back home.

Thinking about your old memories was a strange experience. You could remember everything as clearly as your human self could, but you noticed more the lack of detail within the images, the way your human eyes couldn’t move as fast as your vampire ones, and your reflexes weren’t as fast, and the way you fixated on one part of the picture without taking in the details of the rest of your vision. You had entirely blocked out memories of driving, they were too harrowing. You recalled more easily now all of the times you had nearly hit something or someone, and while you couldn't die now, at least not that easily, you could have easily fallen prey to the fatal blind spot more times than you’d care to admit.

When you told Jaemin about that, he laughed that laugh you loved so much. “I was born in fourteen forty-two, Y/N. We didn’t have cars back then. The only thing on the street that would run me over was a horse-drawn carriage.”

“Well,” you retorted, “you should consider yourself lucky then. Carriages and horses don’t sound half so bad as giant hunks of metal flying at each other at eighty miles per hour.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he mused, stroking an imaginary beard. “Maybe I was lucky to be born in Korea during the 1400s. You may have heard of the emperor Sejong the Great? I was born during his rule. He was one of the best emperors Korea ever had, he introduced hangul and united the country under Confucian principles so that there was more love for the country and the people living in it. Peaceful few years we had there, from what little I remember. After that, though? Lots of killing, children on the throne, et cetera et cetera. Not so fun. And I was actually able to die through all of that, so that wasn’t pleasant. But then King Sejo, the one who did the killing, actually did a pretty okay job of ruling the country and we had a few more years of prosperity. He died six years after my transformation. I missed that event because I was here in Vahmpyr getting to know Jeno, who turned me.”

“How much of the group was around, at that point?”

“Well…” Jaemin closed his eyes briefly in thought. “Here, let me draw you a family tree.” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote ‘Moon Taeil’ at the top. “Okay so as you know, Taeil is here as the first of us. He turned Yuta-hyung, Kun-hyung, Johnny-hyung, and Taeyong-hyung.” He wrote in their names under Taeil’s, spacing them out across the paper.

“Yuta-hyung turned Sicheng-hyung and Shotaro; Kun-hyung turned Dejun-hyung and Lucas-hyung; Johnny-hyung turned Jungwoo-hyung and Mark, and Taeyongie-hyung turned Hyuck, Doyoung-hyung, and Jaehyun hyung.” He labeled all of these names, then drew more stems leading from Jaehyun, Lucas, and Dejun.

“Jaehyun-hyung turned Sungchan, Lucas-hyung turned Hendery-hyung and Yangyang, and Dejun-hyung turned Renjun.” He drew all of these connections and stemmed Renjun’s name down even farther.

“Renjun turned Jeno and Chenle, then Jeno turned me, and I turned Jisung and now you.” He finished the tree with a flourish, black ink stark against the creamy paper. They were all connected, in some way, to Taeil’s venom. And there was you, at the very bottom, your name small next to Jisung’s.

“You guys are all so… connected.”

“Yep! We’re all one big family.”

“Do you guys have, like, family reunions? And who changed Joy and her friends? Or what’s-his-face? Taemin?”

“We don’t really all get together a lot, just because most of us have jobs on Earth or spend our days doing stuff on our own. Some of them like having flings all the time. Obviously none of us can get STDs or get pregnant, so they can do that, no strings attached. We sort of hang out in our individual groups for the most part, and then hang out every once in a while. As far as the others, we think that they must have come from the same person as Taeil-hyung, a very very old vampire. There are other stories like ours across Vahmpyr, where one vampire created one member of each coven and let us grow from there. The difference is that some of them actually have good relationships with those older vampires, whereas I’ve never met ours. I’ve heard that there’s a man called Park Jae-sang who actually comes around to spend time with the vampires he’s changed. The closest we have to an old vampire is Leeteuk-hyung, and he isn’t really around much, plus he’s not that much older than Taeil-hyung.

“Anyway, to answer your question, when I was turned, nearly everyone was around already. Only Yangyang, Sungchan, Shotaro, Chenle, and Jisung are younger than me. And now you.”

“Wow, so you had to meet everyone right after your transformation? I bet that was chaotic.”

“It was, but it was also fun. I got to be the baby for a while. Then the others came around and I somehow became a mother figure.”

You laughed. Jaemin was a mother figure, for sure. He liked to take care of the people around him, including humans that his brothers had brought home for him to patch up. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

He giggled along with you, that laugh you adored so much, and grinned. “I guess it sort of fits me, doesn’t it? Mother Jaem.” He rolled the name over his tongue and you collapsed into laughter again. “I think that works well, yep.”

The next few days, you called him Mother Jaem, and everyone gave you weird looks, but it made Jaemin laugh hard enough that it was worth it.

☽༓☾

One day after this, Chenle pulled Jaemin aside to ask him what on Earth was going on with this whole “Mother Jaem” thing. Jaemin explained happily how it had come about. Chenle rolled his eyes dramatically.

“When are you two getting married?”

Jaemin just gave him a blank stare. “What?”

“It’s so disgusting how much you guys love each other! When can we shove you two together in a house and call it a day?”

“Um, okay, first of all, that is not how you get rid of somebody. Second, they don't love me? And third, there is definitely not enough space in their house for me, even if they did.”

Chenle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lucas was right, you guys are blind fools. Of course they love you! They go to see you all the time! And enjoy it! You’re both in love with each other and both of you are cowards.” He ran his hand through his hair, knocking a piece into his eye. He squinted unhappily but didn’t try to move it.

Jaemin sighed as he got the chunk of hair away from Chenle’s eye. “This is Y/N we’re talking about though! They probably hate me for everything I put them through and only stick around because I turned them or something. Plus, they spend as much time with Lucas as with me.”

“My God, your logic is terrible. You love them, they love you, you need to get together. Watch some dramas and kiss them in the rain or something. Lucas even told me that they love you!”

“That’s astonishingly specific for someone who doesn’t have a romance under their belt.”

“That’s besides the point!” Chenle grabbed the sides of Jaemin’s face and held him still while he spoke. “You need to confess sometime or another before the rest of us go crazy watching you run in circles around each other.”

With that he stalked away, leaving Jaemin rubbing his face where Chenle’s fingertips had pressed into the skin. It didn’t hurt, but the echoes of his voice and his fingers held Jaemin still for a long time afterwards.

☽༓☾

The next week, Kun and Taeil invited the whole coven to a reunion at Kun’s country estate. Having never been, you looked forward to seeing the giant house as much as meeting the rest of the family. It didn’t disappoint, it was absolutely massive, at least four or five floors and extensive gardens in front. Kun gave you free run of the place, asking you to please not enter rooms marked with a “Do Not Enter” sign. Simple rule to follow. You entered the main hall first, feeling like royalty in such an elegant room. Twin staircases led from the upstairs, leading your eyes to an extravagant chandelier covered in hundreds of crystals, and a mint green ceiling. From either side of the large room extended hallways with lush pale blue rugs and endless vases on platforms. It felt as though you had entered the past, or maybe a very expensive movie set. You moved through hallways and rooms, gazing at velvet chairs and old paintings that screamed money. You wondered if someone in Vahmpyr painted them, or if they were from Earth. You found only two rooms marked “Do Not Enter,” one of which was in a long hallway of bedrooms, so you assumed it was Kun’s.

The other was in the back of a positively colossal library. The library caught your eye because of the sheer size of it. Rows upon rows of books lined the walls and seemingly endless freestanding shelves. It was as large as the main public library back home, taking up at least four average rooms worth of space per floor. Not to mention the height. You estimated that it was at least three floors high, perhaps four. An entire long wall was devoted to Kun’s studies in medicine, dating back to leeches and poultices on open wounds through Magnetic Resonance Imaging and the most advanced of current surgeries. He had records of patients stacked by century, and a desk that popped out of the wall to reveal his own notes on developing vaccines and other medicines. Had you still been human, you were certain that a room like this would have given you a headache, from the size and the amount of books to look at.

From the medicine section you moved to other sciences like forensics, geology (although that section was considerably smaller), and astronomy. You also discovered an entire section on aviation. In the astronomy section, you found cork boards with maps pinned to them, stars drawn in detail, space stations built for both humans and vampires, and more drawings you didn't know how to interpret. You pulled out a few books at random and flipped through them, smiling at the notes in the margins. Past those sections were books on every type of science you had ever heard of, and some you hadn’t.

Beyond those were histories, and Kun’s travel section. He had bins filled with brochures, maps, and travel magazines and accounts of, from what you could tell, every war known to have occurred past Kun’s turning. That blended into social studies, and you found books on language next to copies of the Bible in seemingly every version, translations of the Quran, and more religious texts. Stock market trends were recorded and stored next to books on how to hire smart and anthropology. Cultural studies were stored with ethics and political records. Newspapers appeared as well, although those were fewer than the books by far. They appeared to be from a singular area, a place called Taining County, in China. Kun must have some sort of tie to it. You made a mental note to ask him when you rejoined the others.

You climbed a staircase to the second floor, where you found a fireplace and sitting area within the books. It appeared that the entire second floor was books organized by language, starting each section with children’s books and working their way up to novels. You found all of the Romance Languages, German, Hindi, Greek, Tagalog, Russian, Dutch, Japanese, Cantonese, Thai, Korean, Arabic, Bengali, Telugu, Tamil, Urdu, Latin and more that you didn’t know. In the back was a small compilation of different countries’ sign languages, as well.

You climbed the next flight of stairs to the third floor, finding the fiction section. These were organized by genre, with horror on one shelf, science fiction hogging four shelves on the opposite walls, romance taking up a large section next to that, et cetera. You spotted a section marked “Transcribed” and walked over to it, finding books handwritten by Kun, presumably taken from other forms and written over to fit in his library. You imagined the wax tablets and stone slabs of old books and shuddered. Even as a vampire, transporting those wouldn’t be easy. This floor was open in the middle, looking down at the second. Above you, the next floor was open as well and housed more shelves.

You walked up the last staircase and came upon a musical archive. There were phonographs on tables next to more recent record turntables, followed by cassette players and CD players. Each one was in impeccable condition, and behind them were shelves of every format that would work with those machines. These were shorter shelves, since the music was thinner than books, but there were still many many of them. You saw cassette boxes labeled with the albums contained within, records in yellowed sleeves, and CDs in thick storage cases. They were organized by decade, with the earliest dating back to the late nineteenth century. You guessed that was when recorded music had been invented. Perhaps Kun could still remember older pieces though; something else you would have to ask him about. You were looking through the most recent music to see what he liked and if you had heard of it when you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“In the library, fourth floor!” you yelled back.

“Will you come back to the kitchen and help me with this?”

“Sure!”

You weren’t sure who was calling you, but it sounded like Lucas, so you ran towards the kitchen. You weren’t sure entirely why there was a kitchen, since you all drank blood anyway, but you figured there was a good reason. You added that to your growing list of things to ask Kun. You understood why you had a kitchen in your house since you had lived in it while you were still human, but Kun hadn’t been to Vahmpyr before he was turned as far as you knew. Besides, he usually lived in his apartment next to the other guys. Maybe it was just necessary to have a kitchen in a house, you didn’t know. It would have felt weird, you guessed, to live in a house without one.

When you arrived, Lucas was outside as you had guessed.

“Will you run in and grab these things for me?” he asked, handing you a sticky note. “I’ve been tasked with rounding up everyone else.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied, walking through the doors into the room. It was industrial, like Kun cooked for dozens of people at a time, and there was a surprising amount of cooking utensils that wouldn’t work on raw bodies, like spatulas. You looked down at the sticky note for the first time. If you don’t confess, it read, I will smack you when you come back out. And you know how big my hands are, I will make it hurt.

“What?” you murmured to yourself as Jaemin walked into the room.

“Oh hey Y/N, did Chenle send you?”

“No, Lucas did. But did Chenle perhaps give you a sticky note with things to get for him on it?”

Jaemin glanced down at a hot pink slip of paper in his hand. “Yeah.” He looked back up at you before his brow furrowed and he looked more thoroughly at the writing on it. He groaned. “I am going to kill Chenle.” He ran a hand through his cotton candy pink hair. “I guess I should just get it over with then.”

He walked closer to you, setting the sticky note on the counter as he came. “I’m kind of in love with you? And I have been for a while? I mean I get if you hate me after everything I put you through, but according to Chenle you like me back? And… yeah?”

You were left speechless. Hate Jaemin? Never. And he… loved… you?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jaemin waved a hand in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I’ll go, Chenle must have set up a prank.” He started walking away and you grabbed his wrist.

“Jaem, hold on. I’m just in shock. I thought there was no way you could like me back…” Your voice got steadily smaller until it trailed off at the end of your sentence as a whisper.

His entire face lit up like a Christmas tree plugged in for the first time, glowing and cheerful. “It’s not a prank?”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “No, it’s not a prank. I thought Lucas was kidding when he said you liked me back. Or at least that he was wrong. You- you’re actually telling me that you’re in love with me?”

“I am.”

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, a ringing sound in the quiet of the kitchen. It echoed back at you as though the happiness of the laugh had been multiplied. “They’re going to be so smug,” he muttered.

“Oh yes they are. We’re going to have to get back at them someday.”

“Well, we have forever,” he reminded you. You grinned and held out your hand. He took it.

“Let’s go get the teasing over with then.”

You walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. “What did Chenle threaten you with if you didn’t confess?” you asked.

“Oh, he was going to tell the group about the fling I had with Jeno when we were younger.”

You looked at him in shock. “You had a fling with Jeno? Why would you choose me over him?”

“It was just sexual attraction. While that works for some people, both of us were happier just being friends, so we ended it. I actually am in love with you, which makes all the difference. Anyway, Chenle got that story out of me on a dare once and has held it over my head ever since.”

“I wonder if he’s told Jeno he knows?”

“Probably.”

You had reached the front room, and you took a deep breath as you walked forward, though it did nothing for your undead body. “Let’s throw ourselves to the wolves.”

As you walked out into the sunlight, a cheer rose up that would have sent birds flapping away, had there been any. You heard Chenle’s unique laugh paired with Lucas’ happy shouts of “yes!” and the voices of the other men you had gotten to know, paired with ones you didn’t. They stood in a group in the garden, whooping and throwing up hats if they had any. Lucas was the first to reach you.

“I can’t believe you actually did it! I thought I’d have to smack you!” He sounded far too happy at the prospect for your liking.

The rest of the boys ran over. There was a repeating round of “finally” until someone mentioned the food getting warm and there was a great rush to get back to the patio in the garden. You sat next to Jaemin in patio chairs as the sun slowly sank past the tree line and talked with friends old and new.

There was something new, something warm inside of you. A feeling of belonging more than ever when Jaemin fed you a little and the rest of the guys booed jokingly. Under the rising stars you kissed him for the first time, a quick peck at the behest of Yangyang. There were more cheers and hugs and someone had a polaroid camera out, the flash lighting up the scene as everyone laughed.

This was where you were meant to be.

End.

!!reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!!

All rights reserved kiri-ah, 2021

[samsterham]

The Fuckening, Entry # 1

Despite the novel covid-19 being around for a pretty hot minute now, I have only been self-quarantined about 6 days. There have been several confirmed cases in my county, and today the county had it’s first death.

If it’s not apparent by the title, I’ve decided to officially from here on out refer to this entire debacle as The Fuckening. I will swear. A lot. 

I figure it might be somehow lucrative to record my experiences throughout the pandemic, at least as it is pertinent to my country & area. Aside from broader, more public events, it might be interesting to someday look back on my day to day & how we dealt & felt & what we did. I should have been keeping a diary of my life anyway & had intended to despite never making it a priority. Now is as good a time as any.

Anyhow, I anticipate this being a rather disjointed project, variable in moods, topics, formats, etc. & rife with grammatical errors. I haven’t decided how revealing of my identity & location I would like to be, I suppose that’s something I’ll decide as I go. All I’ll reveal for the moment is I live in the U.S. in Pennsylvania.

Recapping what I can right now:

I’m in about day 6 of self-quarantine. All schools have cancelled regular classes and have gone exclusively online, as has happened pretty much everywhere else. My community college also followed suit along with probably every college & university at this point. I’ve had a little over a week off for faculty & staff to prepare for the shift. Class resumes this upcoming wednesday online for the rest of the semester. Curious to how they’re going to structure & grade our biology lab credits. 

Bars & restaurants have been state-mandated to shut down except for take-out. Now the liquor stores have shut down as well. Somehow the beer distributor down the street is still open however...

Me & K (boyfriend) haven’t gone nuts with preparations, but we did have 1 significant shopping trip before the state officially began recommending social distancing. We got enough non-perishables for several weeks. We’ve made a couple mini trips for things like milk & fresh veggies. 

I also have a few immunocompromised friends who I’ve gone shopping for. I expect to continue doing so as needed. One such friend has a bitch of a rare disease which is frankly on the verge of killing her if she sneezes or coughs too hard. There is so, so much more to it than that, than I dare go into here for privacy reasons but I have spent the last month as one of her actual medical advocates. She is partly the reason I would like to focus my education and eventual clinical research on rare diseases such as hers. Anyhow, despite it being flat out unsafe, she was discharged from the hospital yesterday as my city prepares to get slammed with covid-19 cases.

Both my cats got a stomach bug just 2 days into self-quarantine. It began with Crowley puking, then what looked like bloody emesis & trip to the emergency vet. Sent home with stomach meds & instructions for supportive care before jumping into more than basic testing. He was fine within 36 hours, just in time for Aziraphale to become a little vom-bomb. This lasted for 3 days, with many debates as to when we should finally get her poor little fuzz butt medical attention. She thankfully healed on her own, just as I was about to break down & take her to the vet.

Not to make light of the fact that they were sick, but Zira’s throw-up noise is THE FUNNIEST sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It begins with that usual choppy but also deep guttural *hork hork hork* followed by a very abrupt & very loud  scream “rrRAAHH!” as things made their way up & out. I couldn’t help but kinda lose my shit as I pet her & cleaned up the mess. I’m probably going to hell for this.

Me & K have enjoyed spending more time together during quarantine. We have only had 3 friends over since, all being of our regular weekly crew of Sarah, Greg, & Amanda, & all of who are otherwise self-quarantined. Sarah & Amanda came over last Saturday, Sarah made “Quarantinis,” a goddamn delicious cocktail of vodka, lemon, honey, & crystalized ginger. Us girls & K got quaran-trashed, ate dinner together, played Cards Against Humanity, & watched Waking Ned Devine.

We have been making the FUCK outta some food. This is easily the healthiest we’ve eaten in a long time. Thank God we both can cook.

The weather has been fairly forgiving & the two of us have made efforts to get outside as much as possible while it’s nice. K works from home with some good flexibility & I was fired about a month before corona shit hit the fan. We’re enjoying the local parklette & the humongous cemetery in walking distance from us. 

Yesterday was mostly blustery & rainy, save for a 2 hour break in the weather where it was sunny and around 70 degrees. We trekked through said cemetery. As we were on our way out, we rounded the bend of one of the long paths, along the side of a large grassy hill. From that initial perspective of the hill, there was a large pile of indiscernible objects about halfway up the hill. As we came around, we noticed the pile was next to a grave very freshly covered in dirt. Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the “pile” was actually a man wrapped in blankets, with one arm stretched over the dirt of the grave. On the road at the bottom of the hill was what I assumed to be his car. I don’t know who he was, I don’t know who he lost, but they’re burned into my memory forever. It was one of those sights that breaks your entire heart. I cried a little & held K’s hand a little tighter as we made our way toward the gate. K kissed the top of my head & gave me a loving squeeze.

 I didn’t get fired over anything serious; my chronic migraines plus a personal failure to obtain intermittent FMLA in a timely manner resulted in termination. My bosses didn’t want to let me go, but you can only fight HR of a corporate health system so much. Oh well. I wasn’t happy there anymore anyway. After 3 years I was bored, having trained up as much as possible without my degree. Some toxic personalities made their way onto our floor staff in the last year which made some shifts absolute hell despite my efforts to avoid them & remain utterly professional. Aside from running out of money, I’ve been incredibly relaxed since being let go. I’ve even lost 4 pounds in the last month. My hair is currently a weird ginger-pink, the result of a failed self bleach job, but it’s not entirely embarrassing so I’m going to let it recover before I try it again & go teal.

I never got around to watching Breaking Bad when it was popular, but last night I finally saw the first episode. K has seen it before, it’s one of his favorite tv shows & he’s ecstatic to watch it together. One episode legit got me hooked already. I know the premise of the show & I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

The political fuckery around this has been.... ugh. I wanted to say “staggeringly defunct” but what else is there to be expected from this current administration? I have designed most of my tumblr to be apolitical but that will change with these specific entries. I’m politically outspoken on Facebook & Twitter & I wanted one or two platforms that could just be fun and neutral. My current politics are very leftist, a head-spinning 180 degree turn from my upbringing & early voting habits. The last four years have sent me purposefully, intentionally & determinedly headlong into the progressive movement, feminism, and hunger for democratic socialism. The only conservative thing left about me is my stubborn remaining infatuation with firearms & gratitude for the 2A. Counterintuitively I’m very pro-sensible gun control, but having the discussion with either side of the issue mostly leaves me wanting to knock heads together. 

I digress, the administration’s response to the pandemic has been unsurprisingly subpar, yet somehow not as awful as I expected. Trump went from “not a big deal” & “liberal media hoax” to “oh shit, I actually better get my shit together for this” real quick. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an election year or if there’s actually a shred of competency that’s been hiding under the comb-over but I’ll take what we can get from him, including that $1000 check. Getting unemployment has been a bitch. None of this however, changes the fact that Republicans have known about the crisis since December & instead of preparing the public, decided insider trading was a better idea. This doesn’t change the fact that the DOJ is trying to invoke indefinite detention as a “crisis response” and the only thing standing in the way are House Democrats. And it doesn’t change the fact that our hospital system is overloaded & underfunded, and the Republican controlled government would still rather bail out large corporations as we plunge into an inevitable recession. 

I’ve spent too much energy fighting ignorant shit sticks on the internet over all this, including people I know in real life. I gotta keep remembering that all I can do is my best, that you can’t change the world but you can make a dent. On that note, I finally introduced K to Danny DeVito’s cinematic masterpiece Death To Smoochy.

Today I finished reading Darker Than Amber by John D. MacDonald. Quick, fun read, definitely a product of it's time.

That’s all I have in me for today. My neck hurts. Sleep sweet and WASH YOUR FILTHY PAWS. 

[lavenderbones22]

She Is Golden (Nikki Sixx) Chapter One

Chapter Summary: Meet Marina. 

A/N: A few days ago I posted that I had a fic. I’ve written about ten chapters but it never felt right posting it just yet. Now I feel the timing is good and I’m feeling inspired. Please let me know what you think...I love feedback. Enjoy chapter one xo

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1981

It was exactly seven at night and Bonnie was standing on the corner of a busy street on the Sunset Strip, Los Angeles. She was wearing a short black dress, the one she usually threw on before work and a thin cardigan. Thinking back, she should have put more thought into getting dressed before she left the house like this, rushing. It was cold and her curvy body was covered in goosebumps. She was waiting for Marina, her best and least punctual friend. It was nearing the beginning of her shift at the club, Bonnie began to stress.

Darting between bodies, Marina could feel the anxiety running through her body; Bonnie hated it when she ran late.

She was a two minute walk away and could already see her best friend's nearly white-blonde hair standing out amongst the crowd of dim faces. The amount of bleach that girl had used in her hair had made it almost luminescent and therefore easy for Marina to find in a crowd.

Her friend's obsession with being punctual often led Marina to seem worse off with her time management than she actually was, and also it made her feel bad. But at the end of it all the young girl had to remind herself that it was just who she was, she wasn't going to change-habitual. Personal presentation was very important to the fresh twenty-one year old, rarely leaving the house looking anything less than perfect. This was why she most often found herself behind the time.

Marina's long, dark hair blew behind her as she rushed through the crowd throwing 'excuse me's' and 'sorry's' all over the place. Reaching Bonnie with a grab of her upper arm, her friend jumped.

"Fuck, about time," her face showed relief. "Let's go!" She tugged Marina's arm and pulled her a further five minute walk down Sunset and into the club they both called work.

It never went amiss from either girl the sort of reaction they got when walking the streets of Los Angeles, also never when they actually turned into the club. Being catcalled was unfortunately just a part of each girl's daily life. Bonnie when she felt like it would yell something at the men responsible, Marina never, as she was far too shy to do something like that.

A head down and a brisk walk to wherever she was going; she'd nailed that one.

It was dark, as usual, when they entered the club. And although it was open the music was on low volume since they never really had much traffic through at this time of night.

"Marina, Bonnie!" Robert, their boss greeted the girls from the bar as they walked through, each girl waving at the balding man in his early fifties- a typical strip club owner if ever you saw one.

Robert had owned the club for ten years and often said he would die before he ever sold it. Being just a few spots down from the infamous 'Whiskey A Go Go' it meant that traffic was huge. It also mean the girls' tips were huge too.

Having reached the dressing rooms, smells of fake tan, hairspray and stale cigarette smoke filled each girls nostrils-familiarity.

"Marina, thank god you're here," one of the girls, Melissa, frantically called out at her friend and coworker. "I have a cold sore, it's disgusting...do you think you'd be able to cover it?" Running over to Marina, Melissa practically shoved her face at her. "See?"

Laughing, Marina nodded. "Easy, take a seat then I'll do your makeup first."

Having been a makeup artist for three years Marina had seen most things, cold sores were a cinch. "Do you get these often?" She asked Melissa as she worked at pushing the concealer into Melissa's sore bottom lip. The girl nodded.

"They suck and not to mention make me look like a right dirty bitch." Laughs filled the room and Marina agreed to a point, but not enough to consider Melissa a 'dirty bitch'.

Two hours later Marina was still working on the girls makeup. Three of them, including Bonnie and Melissa, were done and out dancing.

Marina had been the in house makeup artist at the Gentleman's club "Meow Meow' for two months now and was still considered the new girl in town. Bonnie was her housemate and oldest friend who had been dancing at the club for a year when Marina decided to move to Los Angeles from Massachusetts. The moment when Marina had told Bonnie the exciting news one night over a particularly long phone call three months ago, the excitable girl immediately demanded she bring her skills to the club. Unsure to begin with because it was never the sort of place Marina had imagined herself, Bonnie quickly persuaded her friend. And so, after a quick trial of only twenty minutes a few days after she arrived in tinsel town, Robert was more than happy to give Marina the job.

"Have you ever considered dancing?" Hannah, another relatively new girl, questioned Marina as she was finishing her eyeliner. Marina scoffed-remembering.

He'd been at it pretty much since she started at Meow Meow, that is, Robert 'gently' pressuring Marina to consider dancing. He always insisted that he'd had several requests every night from regulars who had seen her wandering around the club. Marina was flattered although completely unsure how she would even tackle such a thing. Dancing was never her forte and something she preferred to do in the privacy of her own bedroom.

"I gave it more than a quick though a few months ago," she began while she flicked Hannah's liner into a wing. "Robert has been begging me to for ages, I just, don't know," she sighed. "I don't think I'd be any good at it really." Although she would never admit it, Marina envied the girls on stage. How they could move their bodies with such ease, always managing to dance to the music perfectly. They looked like goddesses and most of the time, the people in the club looked at them like they were.

Marina thought that she would struggle to get out of her own head if she ever took the stage. Perhaps too worried about what people thought of her and even more so, what she thought of herself.

"You would be incredible, I think," Hannah told her. "Your body is amazing, not to mention your gorgeous long hair," Hannah ran her hand through Marina's dark mane. "And your face, babe, you'd make a killing." Marina smiled shyly, never great at taking compliments."

"Thanks, maybe one day."

One in the morning-peak hour at the club. Marina had finished touch ups ten minutes prior and was desperate for a drink, red wine. Stepping out into the main area of the club, she heard a familiar song, knowing before she looked up that it was Bonnie's dance and it always got everyone going. That girl was a dancing extraordinaire, looking like goddamn elastigirl swinging around the pole like she did. Marina never missed the looks that she got from the (mainly male) crowd, also never missing the comments that went along with them. Like when she was out walking on the street, Marina could never bring herself to confront someone-fear.

"Shiraz?" Hugh, the clubs regular barman asked Marina as she approached. Sighing, with tired elbows leaning on the bar.

"Thanks H."

"You look exhausted," Hugh commented, pouring then sliding over her wine.

"I am exhausted. Didn't sleep until three this morning." Some stupid dog down the street was barking incessantly. Hugh looked at the pretty raven haired girl sympathetically, asking what time she was on till. Telling him three-thirty she thanked him for the drink and turned in the direction of the stage. Melissa was now mesmerising the crowd with her tassel clad breasts moving about in precision. Marina always wondered how she managed to avoid getting them in knots constantly and made a mental note to ask her after the show.

It happened most nights, Marina being mistaken for one of the dancers. She supposed she could blame herself since she always had her hair and makeup done, like all the other girls. Her lips were what always stood out the most, being plump and pouty, more often than not covered in a dark pink or red. Winged eyeliner was also a must. The only thing separating them all of course being their lack of clothing and Marina's well, amount of clothing. Skinny black jeans ripped at one knee and a black ribbed crop top showing a modest amount of cleavage. Although modest in Marina's case was excessive in most other women's since she was a double d. A medium sized heel took her 5'6 height to maybe 5'7, but that was just a guess.

"Marina," Robert approached the young girl, hands on her shoulders.

An inward sigh, he was right on cue.

"Hey Robert." Having turned her body around to face her boss he had that apprehensive look he always did when he was about to ask her to dance.

"Doll, I have a favour..."

With a small chuckle and narrowed eyes, Marina looked at her boss. "Go on..." Robert pulled her aside, out of the way from eyes and ears. He never normally did that, usually just asking her right on the spot since he always knew her answer. This made her a little nervous. The feeling though, of eyes on her sourced some sort of comfort, unsure who.

"There's a group of young guys, ages with you maybe a tad older," he began. Marina's eyes darted to her right, instantly spotting the group of about six men-boys who were creating havoc on the other side of the club. They weren't middle aged creeps, for that at least she was thankful.

"Right..."

Arms crossed, waiting for Robert to actually ask her.

"One of them has requested a dance from you," he rubbed the back of his balding head knowing far too well her feelings about this, also recalling this exact conversation happening only days ago.

"Robert..." Marina sighed. "What did you tell them?"

"That I'd ask you."

Marina looked over to her right again, this time getting a better look. Most of the guys were preoccupied with Melissa on stage, or each other, but one of them was looking in her direction, right at her. She guessed he was the one asking after her and she had to admit that he was really cute.

"The one there?" She asked Robert, nudging her head in the guys direction. "Black hair?"

Robert shook his head. "No, it was a short fella, blonde hair." He was looking around for this other guy.

Marina was a little disheartened, if it had been the black haired guy she probably would have said yes. How hard could a lap dance really be? She'd given one, maybe two to her ex-boyfriend before and she thought with a shot of tequila beforehand she could pass off as a professional stripper.

"Him!" Robert exclaimed, pointing at a significantly short guy, albeit, they were both still miles taller than her. He was still cute but she preferred the other one. The taller guy had a glass, perhaps Jack Daniels, in his hand and smirked in Marina's direction. He was sexy, confident.

"What do you say?" Robert asked her. "I'll let you keep everything he gives you babe."

Tempted. There had been a dress she'd seen downtown earlier in the week that she really wanted, no needed, and perhaps this little extra money would make her feel less guilty about buying it.

"Fine."

Marina swore that Robert was about to let out a squeal of excitement upon her answer, his face displaying the most exceptional amount of joy. Finally, she had agreed to become involved in the club by doing more than just makeup. Although Robert approached her several times a week asking her to, he never even told her about half of the people that would ask after her, squirming every time he had to decline on her behalf to a half drunk stranger; so much wasted money. He almost couldn't believe that it hadn't happened before, or more so that he hadn't thought of it himself; a hot, young guy...how could she say no!?

She rolled her eyes at her boss, his arm going around her shoulders as he thanked her, kissing her on the temple and walking with her through to backstage.

All the while, their little exchange was watched closely by someone who saw the young girl as so much more than just a way to make money.

TAGLIST:  @chocolatealmondmilkshake