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Long Night in the Valley Chapter 2

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Everyone turned to see Midoriya standing on the stairs to the beach, looking down at them. None of them, least of all Shouto, had ever seen that expression on his face before. That… flatness that almost rivaled his own.

Uraraka took a step forward. “Deku?” she asked, uncertainly. Suzuki, the commission instructor, threw his arm in front of her, blocking her path.

“Whatever that is,” he said, voice strained and low-pitched, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku. Saito’s quirk doesn’t allow for the subject to have an avatar in the dreamscape without a lot of practice. There’s another quirk at work here.”

“You need to leave,” said Midoriya, descending a single step. “Now.”

“It could be a result of his own quirk,” said Aizawa, who nonetheless had a hand on his capture weapon. “He’s had odd reactions to mental quirks in the past. Jumping to conclusions is illogical.”

“We have evidence Midoriya Izuku is working for the League of Villains,” said Suzuki, backing away from the stairs, slightly. “By the rules laid out in the standard—”

Shouto tuned Suzuki out, by now quite convinced that the man had nothing particularly meaningful to say, in favor of examining Midoriya.

It was Midoriya. Just, a Midoriya that was annoyed, defensive, and maybe a little offended with just a touch of something else. Which was a weird combination on Midoriya. Especially as muted as it was. Midoriya’s expressions, no matter what they were, were always so big.

“—I am recruiting you to aid this investigation and determine the League of Villain’s plans!”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll make you leave,” growled Midoriya.

Wow, for someone who was the embodiment of sunshine, he could be really threatening. Then again, sunburns were a thing, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising.

“You’re here against my will, after coercing me into allowing a quirk to be used on me. I want you out.”

“Eraserhead, I suggest you restrain this projection, whoever it belongs to.”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” continued Midoriya.

“I suggest,” said Aizawa, “that you listen to him. We can ask Midoriya about this when we’re all awake and not in his head. Like you should have done in the beginning.”

Midoriya tilted his head slightly to one side.

“I agree! This is very unethical,” said Iida, chopping at the air. “This is basically an interrogation, and Midoriya is a minor! You need parental permission!”

“Which, before you start talking about him willingly participating in this course,” said Aizawa, “he has explicitly withdrawn. Not to mention his mother signed those opt-out forms, so her permission is withdrawn as well.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am,” said Aizawa. “Take us out. This whole thing is illogical.”

“I can’t,” said Suzuki. “Saito is the only one who can shut down her quirk prematurely.”

“What?” said Uraraka. “There’s no way for you to contact her in an emergency? That’s really dangerous!”

“That’s not what Saito Yume said, either,” said Midoriya, flatly. “’The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.’ Implying that there’s another way to break free. One that you, by necessity, must know. So, leave. Or I’m going to start to defend myself.”

Suzuki took a deep breath. “I am here,” he said, “to complete a mission given to me from the Hero Commission. Your refusal to comply with the terms set out in your licensing agreements will be noted.”

Midoriya brought his head up straight again and squared his shoulders. His hands clenched. He was wearing gloves, Shouto noticed. Not the gloves that went with his hero costume, but work gloves. He’d seen the landscapers who worked at his family home wear something similar.

Why?

“Fine,” said Izuku. “Then I’m going to kick you out.”

“That’s impossible, you—”

“I know this beach very well.”

Abruptly, the pristine white sand was covered in towers of trash, separating Shouto from the others. Suzuki’s insistence that Midoriya was a spy had already had him on edge. This put him fully into battle-mode.

He dropped into battle stance, and carefully froze one of the trash piles in front of him, making an icy stair to the top. His first priority was to find Aizawa and his classmates and regroup. To do that, he had to get a better vantage point.

He jogged up the stairs, noting, absently, that he was now in his hero suit, not his school uniform. What had he been wearing before this turned into a fight? He hadn’t particularly noticed.

He reached the top just in time to see Midoriya bludgeon Suzuki with a piece of rusty rebar.

Alright. Maybe that wasn’t Midoriya.

.

Aizawa wasn’t fast enough getting around the piles of trash. He would have tried to scale them, but there was no safe place for him to grab on to. The piles were simply too unstable, too untrustworthy, too poorly shaped.

He arrived just in time to see Midoriya, or what looked like Midoriya, impale Suzuki with a pole.

Before his mind could fully process the problem child attempting what looked a whole lot like murder, he had him wrapped in his capture weapon.

Midoriya had the gall to look confused, if only slightly.

“Todoroki,” Aizawa barked, spotting his other student on top of one of the horribly dangerous trash mounds. “First aid, stat.”

“Yes, sir,” said Todoroki, making an ice ramp to glide down.

“Midoriya,” he said. “What was that?” Perhaps it was illogical to ask, but he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

“I was testing to see if he’d wake up and go away if he got knocked out,” said Midoriya. He made a tiny, not-quite-shrugging motion. “This is just a dream, after all.”

Alright. That was true, but it was still incredibly disconcerting to see Midoriya act so callously towards the life of another human being. Although he was unsure how many times Midoriya had hit Suzuki, and certain places of impact were less lethal than others, blunt force trauma, especially to the back of the head, could still be deadly.

There was the sharp report of a gun, and Midoriya jerked forward, blood leaking from some invisible wound to drip down his face. Then he vanished.

He turned towards that utter bastard Suzuki, eyes blazing, only to find him entirely encased in a glacier except for his head.

While Aizawa had been trying to train Todoroki out of reflexively encasing human beings in ice, due to frostbite, hypothermia, and other potential health issues, he was willing to let it slide. Just this once.

“I told you,” said Suzuki, teeth chattering. “That isn’t your student. And even if it was, he’s a traitor.”

“Sensei,” said Todoroki, “what are we going to do?”

“First,” said Aizawa. He didn’t get beyond that, because Uraraka was abruptly launched from behind a wall of trash, trailing a makeshift tether of salvaged bungee cords.

“Found them!” exclaimed Uraraka. “I don’t see Deku, though!”

“First,” said Aizawa, feeling exhausted despite technically being asleep, “we regroup.”

.

Toshinori was supposed to be teaching a third-year heroics course.

He wanted to be with Izuku at the Hero Commission training, even if he was retired, with only a retiree license to his name.

He was in the nurse’s office, getting his brain checked by Recovery Girl, because sudden debilitating headaches weren’t on the long, long list of symptoms he’d come to expect from his injuries and medications.

Chiyo was worried he might be having a stroke, an aneurism, or some other sudden, lethal, brain condition. She’d used her quirk on him at once, and the pain hadn’t stopped. She’d said that, at least, it should stop an aneurism from getting worse.

Toshinori hoped it wasn’t brain cancer. As far as personal abilities went, all he had going for him right now was brainpower and a stupidly high pain tolerance.

He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the room. Everything seemed too bright and blurry. Sounds warped oddly in his ears. The fabric of the bed underneath him felt gritty against his fingertips.

It was like he wasn’t entirely here.

Oh, the joys of hallucinations.

(Something like urgency pushed against the back of his mind. Whispered Eight, and help, and Nine.)

(Something was going more wrong than usual.)

He waited for Chiyo to step out of the room before he snuck out.

.

Izuku emerged from sleep with a choked gasp, heart racing, head spinning. Where-?

It took him several fraught minutes to get his breathing under control and recognize where he was. The room for the Hero Commission course. His classmates and teacher were sleeping next to him, as well as the commission instructor. What had his name been? Something with an S?

Thinking was hard. It was like his brain was occupied with something else and he kept having to nudge it back on track. It was like—

He shook his head, which pounded with the movement, distracting him further. He—He should—

What?

An odd sensation overtook him, and he found himself slowly, cautiously standing up. It wasn’t like Shinsou’s quirk, where his body was out of his control, but more like he was almost sharing control, somehow. Like he could, at any point, take control back. And he did, just to test the theory, stopping for a moment, his hand halfway to his backpack.

But that was hard, and he really wasn’t up for much in the way of decision-making, and the others were quite adamant that he had to get out now. They’d know. He trusted them.

They picked up the backpack.

Eight was coming. They could trust Eight.

The door slammed open. Izuku froze. Several heroes in costume and a man with a suit and a commission nametag stood in the doorway.

“Get him!”

Four moved so differently from Izuku. Precisely, like he knew exactly how his opponents were going to act, where they were going to be. It reminded Izuku of how Sir Nighteye moved.

In seconds, they were in the main hall, sprinting past crowds with the help of One for All. Izuku felt bad about leaving Aizawa and his friends, but they knew, they weren’t targets. Izuku was.

Izuku didn’t know how they knew that, how he knew that.

Parking lot. Streets. Alleyway. Rooftops. His UA uniform was too attention grabbing. They dropped his blazer behind one of the rooftop ventilation shafts and tugged off his tie. The button down by itself was less attention grabbing. There was nothing they could to about his pants. Alley again. The people chasing him could track his phone. They needed to get rid of it.

Preferably in a way that wouldn’t immediately tip their pursuers off to the fact they had gotten rid of it. Sending them the wrong way would be a good distraction, would buy them time.

They slipped onto a bus and dropped Izuku’s phone into a woman’s purse. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the change in weight for a while.

Six and Two were very good at this kind of thing. Not to mention One.

It would probably sound weird to an outsider, but it was comforting. The experience and care of the past users wrapped around him like a thick blanket, making it so that Izuku didn’t mind so much about his distraction, even though he wished he could help more.

He got off the bus. They needed to find Eight.

.

“Just so you know,” said Aizawa, several registers shy of conversationally. “If you’ve harmed my student in any way, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell.”

“Nothing here actually affects the mind of the subject,” said Suzuki, rolling his eyes. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t use Saito’s quirk.”

“Your information hasn’t exactly been accurate so far,” said Tenya, pushing his glasses up and frowning. Suzuki had, in fact, been fundamentally unhelpful. “In fact, I believe you have outright lied to us on several occasions.” He glanced at his classmates for support and did a double take.

Standing behind Uraraka, half-hidden behind a beaten-up old refrigerator, was Midoriya. A smaller, slimmer, younger Midoriya, who was wearing an ‘ALL M’ t-shirt, thick gloves, and… and an awfully large amount of rope?

He was also crying, silently, and staring at Suzuki.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. He pulled on the rope. The refrigerator came free, destabilizing the pile of trash it had been supporting.

It all came tumbling down.

.

Ochako managed to avoid most of the debris coming for her, and slapped most of the remainder, making them float with her quirk. Even so, by the time the dust settled, she was covered in scrapes, the pink fabric of her hero suit torn—

Wait. Hero suit?

Whatever, she was asleep, and the more important thing was to find Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa-sensei. They had been in the direct line of the collapse. She was pretty sure Deku had been able to get out of the way.

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

“Five-point touch activation. Seems to affect buoyancy of objects. Possible martial arts background based on movement.”

Ochako spun to face not one, but two small Dekus. The new one was, if possible, even smaller than the first and wearing a gakuran. He had a notebook spread out across his left arm and was writing in it at lightning speed.

“Hands are a possible weak spot, but a known one. Be careful of kicks.” Gakuran Deku’s words devolved into mumbling, but t-shirt Deku was still nodding, so he must understand.

T-shirt Deku also had a length of pipe. Ochako did not like where this was going.

Then again, the whole point of this exercise was to learn how to defend one’s mind. She couldn’t exactly fault Deku for doing just that. She dropped into a fighting stance and grinned.

.

It was nothing short of a miracle, Aizawa decided, that they hadn’t been killed yet. Then again, it was possible that Midoriya, despite his obviously altered and disturbed mental state, was still holding back against them.

Which was annoying. Because neither of the two small Midoriya-lookalikes was particularly strong. Nor did they appear to be using Midoriya’s quirk, despite the fact that Aizawa, Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki had no trouble using theirs. The problem was that they were terrifyingly intelligent, just shy of ruthless, and had an incredible home-field advantage in that they seemed to know the location and nature of every bit of trash on the beach and in that they could evidently make it disappear and reappear at will. They also avoided head-on combat whenever possible, letting the terrain do their work for them.

Fighting them was, in fact, like fighting someone with a quirk completely unlike Midoriya’s. With a fighting style completely unlike Midoriya’s.

And that made Aizawa wonder, because all too often, he caught Midoriya trying to replicate All Might’s style, and if he did that when he could be doing something more like this—

But this wasn’t the time for such speculation.

He pulled Todoroki away from a trap again (he evidently hadn’t yet grasped that Midoriya was attacking them), and then jumped away from a chain reaction caused by whatever Uraraka just threw.

Unless they wanted to spend the next hour being beaten up by the problem child… “We need to get somewhere he has less control over the environment.”

“Off the beach?” suggested Uraraka, panting. “He said—He said he knew the beach well, so…”

Aizawa nodded. That was good thinking. Where were the stairs?

“You need to leave!”

“We’re trying, problem child!” snapped Aizawa, and, miraculously, that made Midoriya hesitate. Aizawa pulled Todoroki towards the stairs. The others were able to follow on their own.

They made their way up, and as soon as they hit the top step the previously clear sky opened up and it began to pour. Aizawa was soaked through in seconds.

Wonderful.

However, the attacks—which had been relentless up until this point—stopped.

“We left Suzuki,” observed Iida.

Aizawa held back a groan.

“Who cares?” asked Todoroki.

“We do,” said Aizawa. “We can’t let him run around unsupervised in Midoriya’s head.”

“I think he might have gotten crushed,” said Uraraka. “He was still in your ice, wasn’t he, Todoroki?”

“Yeah,” said Todoroki. “Trash should stay with trash,” he mumbled under his breath.

“We have no idea how any of our quirks will function long-term in a dream,” said Aizawa, not addressing the trash comment because he honestly sort of agreed. “Nor do we know what his quirk is.” He sighed. “We may also have to consider that he is correct and Midoriya is compromised.”

Predictably, there was quite a bit of protest.

“He may also have other information regarding the situation at hand,” said Aizawa. “Which we need.”

There was a rattle among the trash heaps, and Aizawa turned to watch Suzuki drag himself out from under a mound of trash.

“You left me!” accused Suzuki, loudly. “You almost let that gremlin kill me a dozen times!”

“Well,” said Midoriya from behind them, where he absolutely hadn’t been a minute ago, “then maybe you should have left when I asked."

LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION

CHAPTER 2, PART 1: INVISIBLE STRING

Horizons and Sunsets

"Time,curioustime, gave me nocompasses, gave me nosigns"

- invisible string, Taylor Swift

Concord, Massachusetts, 1868

Rays of sunshine playing on her skin. Soft grass under her fingers. Little specks of dirt scattered across her face. Leaves tangled up in her hair. It's not a common happening to be able to see yourself in such a way. A way that makes it seem like you are not you, but somebody else wearing somebody else's clothes, guarding somebody else's heart, owning somebody else's thoughts. Like you are only an observer, a background noise in your own life. These descriptions are usually used in unpleasant connotations, usually as metaphors, usually as another way of saying you feel transparent, forgotten and small. But in Jo's case, the phenomenon is not even a tiny bit metaphorical. Maybe it's the impact of the books. Maybe it's her imagination. Maybe it's just her. Whatever it is, Jo has always been able to see her life as a theatre piece, herself an audience member, her past self, no matter how far back she might travel to reach a certain memory, a performer. And Jo craves those moments of remembrance. She craves the feeling of transparency. She craves to exist less.

Everything she remembers, she remembers in flashes. Her memories do not understand concepts such as "chronology" or "order". Her brain resembles an unsolved puzzle. Every piece of information she has makes sense. But when to be put together with another aspect of her being, it does not fit. Nothing about her ever seems to fit. And now, she doesn't fit within herself.

No, Jo March is not a puzzle. Puzzle, no matter how difficult and complex, can be put together.

She's a living breathing contradiction.

What else to describe the utter ridiculousness of her mind? She is not happy and she is not sad. One second she is completely content with her life, the other, she is not. She wants to receive love, love and love, but she is afraid to offer it.

When Josephine March loves someone, she does not tell them. She does show, but never tells. She never uses the famous simple phrase. Never not once.

Her best friend burns for the people he loves. Jo burns for them in secret.

And here, as she is seeing herself splattered in sunlight, Jo March is preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

***

Paris, France, 1868

Theodore (yes, he is "Theodore" now) is not exactly sure where he is or how did he get there. His vision is blurry and his body feels heavierthan usual. What is fascinating about his situation is the fact that consuming certain "substances", (and substances being of alcoholic nature), were supposed to prevail him from feeling like this. From feeling the way he's been feeling his entire life. Like everything around him was frozen and he was the only one moving. He was just too fast, too warm, too different. Enormous in emotion, reckless in thought. All of this often led to conclusions too horrific to comprehend, so he tried to avoid thinking.

The thought of having too many emotions might be terrifying. But the thought of having too much love for everything and everyone but himself was rather paralyzing. It was ridiculous to expect anybody to feel with as much passion as he did. It was ridiculous to demand such a thing from people. Why would anyone put all of their energy into someone else when there were so many things to be done in the world? But those other things rarely sparked an interest in him. Adventures, boarding schools, trips and experiences seemed irrelevant and hollow unless they were intended to be shared. It's funny how he always craved the one thing he never had. And when he finally got a glance of the love he so desperately wanted, he lost it because of his stupid absurd annoying emotions.

When Theodore Laurence loves someone he does not tell them. He screams it until his lungs are on fire.

His best friend loves with her whole entire heart. He loves with his whole entire being.

And now, vision blurry and body heavy, Theodore Laurence finds himself preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.

One is chasing ghosts.

Other is rearranging thoughts,

Final is accepting sunsets.

***

Concord, Massachusetts, 1862

Step one: chasing ghosts

Sand beneath her bare feet. Water. Silent whispers of the sea. Birds. Colors. Nothing. Everything. Oh, to be crafted in such a way to believe you shall always be sixteen and silly and reckless and real. That is how Jo feels right now. Real. Right here, observing, enjoying, doing nothing but existing. And the sea! So mystical and wide, appearing endless in its presence, it looks like something in possession of a dream rather than this time and place. And the best part of this? Her family. They all resemble a painting in their natural messiness. Amy with her hair half wet, positioned in a way she believes to be ladylike, smiling at the horizon, sketchbook in hand. Meg, holding her hat so that it doesn't leave her in its desperate wish to follow the wind, shoes untied, eyes glistening from laughter she experienced seconds before. Beth, oh sweet Beth, kneeling by the water, touching the shining surface, mouth moving as though she is singing to the sea itself. Teddy is by her side, like he always is, sitting with his eyes closed, head held high up to the sky. He would probably refer to his current position as a way to "suck out all the marrow out of life", which always sounded a bit inappropriate coming from his mouth, but Jo loved the symbolism of the phrase, so she decided to put her friend's foolishness to the side.

"Isn't it simply ethereal, dearest Teddy?"

"Yes, I did indeed think my face had a particular glow to it this morning, your kind remark is very well appreciated, Miss March" came a teasing response shortly followed by a light smack to the arm (because Jo, being an experienced bookworm, always had a bookweapondown her sleeve).

"Oh Teddy, you're such a boy sometimes. I find it quite disappointing really." said Jo being perfectly aware of the effect the comment might cause. Teddy shot her a look of a supposedly hurt individual, put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly, as though he was a character in a Shakespearean tragedy. Jo rolled her eyes at the glamorous gesture, but pretty quickly, her features were changed with a thoughtful expression. She turned her head to Teddy timelines after, only to be greeted with a no longer playful, but a reassuring smile. He knew her too well.

"You know, it doesn't make it any less beautiful. The fact that it's all going to end one day, I mean. Quite the opposite actually."

She does not answer that. She gets up from the ground and extends her hand to him.

"If it's going to end, we might as well suck all of the existing marrow out of it."

"Oh, what a wonderful choice of words, dearest Jo!" he exclaims theatrically while gladly accepting her hand

"Oh, what a wonderful life, dearest Teddy."

And with that, they run to the sea, their lungs almost too full, smiles almost too big. Spirits almost too free.

Childhood is a thing of dreams.

Concord, Massachusetts, 1863

Step two: rearranging thoughts

Trousers under skirts. It's scandalous. Scandalous and inappropriate. At least that's what society will label it as. And society loves labels. But Laurie finds a solace of sorts in his friend's choice of clothes. He isn't sure how to explain it (he is not as good with words as Jo is), but it's comforting to see someone be so unapologetically themselves, whoever that person might be. He tells her this one day because he's Laurie and he isn't familiar with the concept of "silencing your emotions".

"Teddy, don't flatter, I told you I do not enjoy nor support such doings. You might as well go practice your gentlemanly manners on Amy, I'm sure she will accept your words of so called admiration with much more enthusiasm than yours truly." says Jo, her voice a tiny bit too loud, her thoughts meeting the outside world in grave speed. Laurie often finds himself wondering how one speaks with so much passion and rush, it's like Jo's sentences are running instead of flowing. She shares her mind without looking at him, her hands busy with rearranging the dining table previously covered with Amy's unfinished drawings and Beth's beloved dolls.

"I meant what I said, Jo. But since you believe I'm incapable of offering sincerity, I shall escort myself out."

He gets up from the place he was sitting at and rushes out of the March house, leaving his waistcoat behind him. Jo knows better than to follow him right away. She will bring him the forgotten object later, once he's ready to start unravelling burdens.

***

Night.

Light.

These two nouns aren't supposed to get along very well, yet here we are. Jo finds herself awake in the middle of the night, which circumstance she is no stranger to, but this time it is not her restless mind that steals her from the arms of dreamland. It's light. Jo gets up, careful not to make a noise, and looks out the window to further investigate the strange occurring. And the sight her eyes are met with is a sight so undoubtedly Teddy-like that she isn't sure if she will be able to forgive herself for not coming up with such a conclusion sooner. The house of her neighbour, who happens to be her dearest friend, is shining with what she presumes is light of about two dozen candles. The scene would've been inspiring, if not captivating, especially for a person of her making, but Jo knows Teddy and this cannot mean anything pleasant. Therefore, she decides to pay her fellow pirate a visit, armed with a forgotten piece of clothing as a faithful enough excuse.

Proud of herself for avoiding all the obstacles successfully (and the obstacles being sleeping family members who have yet to be introduced to the pleasures such as "sleepless nights" or "windows"), Jo runs to the construction once known as a house, now as a gothic castle and knocks. Her efforts are answered with a voice of not a person, but a peculiarly human like ghost.

"Who is it?"

"Do you really think I will dare share information of an importance so big, oh so grand, without seeing your face, kind sir?" says not Jo, but a righteous, noble knight, his devotion as admirable as amusing.

Laurie opens the door only to be met with a grinning Jo.

"I believe you have forgotten this, my friend."

exclaims an unlike lady, kneels down and offers him his waistcoat in a way so grandiose, some might think she actually was a knight in shining armor, sharing sunlight, providing hope.

"Don't be a goose Jo" came a gentlemanly response followed by an annoyed sound and indifferent expression. Laurie turns around, but leaves the door wide open. Jo, understanding the message quite well, follows him inside to a candle lit room. Laurie approaches the piano and sits down as though he is about to start playing the instrument, but he doesn't confirm the logical assumption. Instead, he closes his eyes and remains like that for what feels like eternity, looking like a human statue. It would've been comical if it were anybody else, but Jo was familiar with Teddy's passion for extravagance. His behaviour does not spark laughter, but concern.

"Teddy, I think you should start explaining whatever it is you need to explain. Keeping it in won't do anybody any good despite you believing it will. I promise, you won't be a burden."

Laurie shifts in his position and exhales loudly, his eyes still closed. When he starts to speak, his voice is not his. It's distant and decorated with occasional trembles which he is desperately trying to avoid.

"When I told you today how I find solace in the way you carry yourself and how you wear trousers and don't care about what people think of you, I wasn't trying to mess around or anything. Sometimes... Sometimes I feel like I am not me... Like I'm not a good match for myself and I..." he opens his eyes at that, not sure if he wants to receive a response to any of the things he has just said.

"I am deeply sorry Jo, this doesn't make any sense, you can go, I don't know what came of me."

"Oh Teddy, but it does make sense! It makes so, so much sense." Jo doesn't say that like she wants to comfort him. She really seems to mean it. Their gazes meet at the exact same time, their eyes glossy (which observation they will both dismiss in immense respect to one another), their faces now beautified with soft smiles.

"You do realize you are wearing a night gown right?"

"I am not the one randomly lighting up candles, impersonating ghosts now, am I?"

"It's called dramatic effect, Jo! Dramatic effect! And keep the waistcoat, I never really liked it anyways."

***

After that day, Jo and Laurie's closets were left grieving for lost members of their separate societies. Blouses, neckties and waistcoats were introduced to the idea of travel and adventure. And even though the closets were left in grief, their owners were more than satisfied with the not so sudden change.

Into the... Wait, we’re all what now?

As it turns out, I’m horrible at keeping things as one-shots, so now you’re getting a continuation of the fic in which Mari falls into the DC verse. Using Maribat March is definitely a wonderful way to continue these things. Also, yes, this means you can ask to be tagged to the story from now on. There is at least one more thing to write about this if not more.

Ao3 || first part

This is Maribat -- don’t like; don’t read

______________________________

It was way too late to be up and awake but apparently, that was precisely what Marinette was anyway. Sighing, she pushed the covers aside, slipped on a pair of fluffy socks and made her way to the kitchen through the seemingly endless halls of the Wayne Manor.

As she got into the kitchen, she checked the clock from the microwave oven. It was only 3.29 am. Damn it. She hated the fact she couldn’t sleep. She also hated the fact they hadn’t yet figured out a way back to her own world. The Amazons didn’t know anything about the miraculous — her own world was a cartoon in their world, it turned out, and she kind of knew her partner’s identity, as well as Papillon’s and Mayura’s identities, which, poor Chaton. Hopefully, the Parisians were doing fine without her there to capture and purify the Akuma —, though Wonder Woman had said she could still try to look further into it.

She was glad that Diana had promised to do that because Marinette really would have preferred to be home, especially since speaking English all the time got very tiring. There weren't many people she could speak French with, not really. Dick knew some French, Bruce could speak French, and Tim was able to hold up a simple conversation for a while, but it... It wasn't really enough.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being with the Wayne family, no. She loved the family and kind of considered them her other family aside from her Maman and Papa. She’d even been officially adopted to the family in their world’s eyes so it wouldn’t confuse anyone as to why a random girl suddenly hung out with them without dating any of them. It had been Tim’s idea, Bruce had decided it was a good one, and then they’d asked Marinette if that was something she was okay with. She was. It wasn’t like her family was in this world or universe anyway, and it was nice to know she belonged somewhere. Besides, she fit the pattern — black hair, blue eyes. The only ones who didn't have both but had black hair anyway were Cass and Damian, really.

It was a little amusing that the only one who was actually related to Bruce looked like him the least if they ignored his facial structure.

Quietly, she tiptoed around the kitchen, having already given up on the idea of sleep at this point. She made night snacks for herself and poured herself a cup of coffee, sighing happily as she inhaled the bitter smell of it. The coffee was scalding hot as she took a sip — just how she liked it. The drink warmed her hands as she held the cup which was nice, seeing as the Manor was rather cold at night.

Marinette settled herself at the small table in the kitchen that was mostly meant for anyone who really, really didn’t want to eat with the rest of the family and opened her phone, meaning to go through her Tumblr feed and maybe watch Netflix. She'd even been ready to just start watching a new show when she was interrupted.

What caused the interruption was someone trying to get a mug out of the cupboard quietly and instead dropping one on the ground. Thank god it was the sole plastic mug in the entire manor, so nothing broke.

Marinette turned to look at the source of the voice and found Tim staring at the ground with what looked like grief in the dim light of her phone. She would’ve understood if there was coffee or if it had been Tim’s favourite mug (as that one could be broken — Jay had threatened to do it once or twice by now, actually), but no. Nothing was broken, nothing had spilt on the ground, nothing needed to be cleaned up.

So what was it?

When Marinette raised her eyebrow at Tim as he finally looked at her, Tim just sighed and shook his head. “‘S nothing, Nette, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he told her, crouching to pick up the mug. “Haven’t slept much, nothing more than that. I thought there had been coffee for a second.”

Marinette nodded, understanding what he was on about, and continued reading. It was only when Tim dropped down on the chair in front of her that she paid attention to him again. He had his laptop out and was frowning at his screen.

“A case?”

“Yeah. A series of murders, three robbed stores, riddles and a string of witnesses that refuse to say anything kind of scream multiple of our villains, and I’m not sure who to investigate first, or if it was a collective effort of theirs, or if someone is impersonating them and trying to frame all of them. None of them has claimed the crimes either, which is a little unusual and a lot disturbing,” he told her and turned the screen around for her to see. Indeed, there was a list of possible culprits and the chance of an unknown and the details of the crime.

“I can see why this is troubling you,” Marinette sighed and turned her eyes from the screen back to Tim again. “I cannot believe I’m suggesting this, but what if you slept and then looked at it again? I know you tend to try solving problems even in your dreams, so there’s that as well, but also your brain might want to brain better after sleeping.”

It took her a moment before she realised what she said, but when she did, she groaned and rubbed her hand on her face. “I can’t believe I just used a noun as a verb. Please kill me or knock me out so I could sleep.”

Tim just laughed at her. That asshole.

“What are you two doin’, drinkin’ coffee at this hour?”

Marinette jumped, startled that someone had managed to sneak up on them even in the silence of the night. She turned around to see the slightly glowing eyes of Jason and let out a sigh of relief, bringing a hand to her hear. “God, Jay, you scared me. A guy your size shouldn’t be allowed to move so quietly,” she whined and let her forehead hit the table. Jason only barely managed to snatch her cup away from her way so it wouldn’t fall down and that all her coffee wouldn’t end up on the floor.

She murmured her thanks into the table as Jason patted her head, laughing at her quietly. She would kick his ass in the morning for that. Maybe. After all, he had just saved her coffee.

This time, Marinette noticed when someone entered. She couldn’t bother to turn her head to look at them, though. They would make themselves known to the rest of them soon enough.

No, actually. There were two people. One of them had a very soft walk, barely audible, but now that Marinette was listening, she was able to find it. A hand touched her hair, gently pushing it away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. When Marinette looked up, just a little, she found the dark eyes of Cass staring at her. Marinette gave her a weak smile in return.

They don’t talk, not really. The time passed by as Cass just sat on the floor next to Marinette, Tim tried to solve his case, and Jason and Dick were talking (or fighting) about something in hushed voices again. None of the others, except for Cass, obviously, because she noticed everything, paid attention to the small frame that appeared in the doorway. Marinette did. She stood up, stretched and walked to Damian.

She didn’t touch him. She wasn’t sure if it was okay right now. Instead, she watched for any signs of what had happened, or reactions to anyone in the kitchen. Nothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Damian shook his head. “No. It was merely an unfortunately timed nightmare, I can survive.”

“I know you can. You’re strong like that. It just doesn’t mean you have to survive on your own, alone. It’s also a strength to recognise when you—,” Marinette yawned. She hadn’t slept in a too long time. “—When you need others for support.”

When Damian lingered in the doorway a little too long, his eyes going between the floor and Marinette. Marinette just opened her arms and let Damian walk into them before embracing him. “Do you want a hug? I can tell none of them you wanted a hug if that helps. We can also go to the living room if that sounds better?”

Damian nodded. Marinette shot Cass a text to drag the rest of them to the living room in about half an hour with pillows, blankets and mattresses. They all needed sleep, or at least rest, and maybe they could get that in a pillow fort?

The two of them went on ahead, and once they were there, Marinette sat on the couch and waited for Damian to come there with her. He, a little reluctantly and hesitating a lot, took careful steps towards her before he too was sitting on the couch and curling up against Marinette. She smiled and pulled him closer, securing them under a blanket.

Maybe he’d feel safer from the nightmares this way.

About half an hour later (though both Damian and Marinette had dosed off already), the rest of the family made their way to the living room, everything Marinette had asked from Cass with them. They built a pillow fort for them as quietly as possible, one of them always watching over Damian and Marinette so to make sure they didn’t wake up. Heavens knew both of them needed the sleep, and they didn’t want to try their luck and see if they would fall asleep again.

After it was done, Jason picked Marinette up in his arms as Dick carried Damian in his, and carefully laid them down on the mattresses before tucking both in. Tim and Cass curled up the closest to the two, Jason and Dick surrounding the smallest four of them the last. It was comfortable and much warmer than it usually was in the house, six bodies all huddled close.

Aside from how none of them knew how to not sprawl over everyone else, it was the most peaceful and well slept night any of them had had in years.

________________________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @maribat-is-lifeblood @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @kadmeread@silverwhiteraven@marinettepotterandplagg@freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

Void Fog (Cosmic Horror AU), Part 1

A summary of everything we have so far.

All the information here is already available, but I haven’t updated the AU storyline since April, so I’m making this post for completeness’ sake.

- The eldritch abomination is an entity that has existed for millennia. It resides in the space between worlds- the Infinite dimension.

- It's only true desire is to consume.

- It’ll consume anything, but it’s particularly drawn to worlds that have been, or are currently inhabited by players. Considering the practically infinite amount of worlds (seeds), these are difficult to come by.

- The Hermit’s pattern of moving between different worlds has allowed them to unintentionally evade the Entity.

- It’s able to enter minds and control people to some extent, usually with the goal of finding other worlds and entering them.

- EX was exiled to a blank void world within the infinite dimension. Though he couldn’t travel beyond the void world, he could sometimes access the rest of the infinite dimension through his dreams. The Entity established a psychic link between them by preying on his insecurities (which, all things considered, is a huge can of worms).

- When EX managed to escape using his unstable admin powers, the Entity was able to locate the Hermitcraft server and bring forth the apocalypse.

Meta plot stuff:

- From a meta standpoint, it’s kind of difficult to pinpoint when the story takes place, and write a lot of it beyond what’s happening to EX. He was banned from the server in March 2019, and stayed in the void world for an extended period of time. By the time EX manages to get back onto the server, it could be any time during S7, but likely in the future, when the world has been developed a bit more.

- Some elements of the story will change as the season goes on so that it can fit into the context of S7

- The story mostly focuses on EX, so unless a canon story arc has elements of alternate dimensions (eg Area 77) or the supernatural (eg Demise), then the ‘Hermit’ side of the story is unlikely to have a major impact on the story as a whole. If EX comes back in canon, then the circumstances of how he does so will be incorporated into the AU.

World notes:

- X and EX have admin powers. EX barely knows how to use his and as such, lacks control. For example, he might try to summon a few stacks of a particular block, and end up summoning too much or too little. 


- EX’s powers can be influenced by his emotions. When upset, he has a tendency to teleport all over the place and cause lighting glitches, lag, and other errors. His ability to teleport and travel between dimensions is also unstable.

- The Entity would’ve found the Hermitcraft server sooner or later. If the Hermits extended Season 6 into Sixfinity, they would’ve attracted its attention. If Doc had kept using the infinity portal to access other servers, then it’s likely that he would’ve run into the Entity at some point, and this whole apocalypse mess would’ve happened anyway. 


Exile:


- When he was banned, EX was sent to a creative superflat dimension outside of normal worlds. No structures generated there, and the floor was made up entirely of blue glass. He spent most of his time trying not to think too hard about the isolation, and instead turned to building nonstop. 


- His main ‘base’ was an ever expanding rustic house. He spent some time with NPG before getting banned and was taught how to build in a rustic style, which is what he’s most comfortable with. The house has gotten exceptionally large, and is near impossible to navigate due to its erratic floor plan. 


- EX also spent a lot of time sleeping, because the less time he spent conscious and aware of the usual passage of time, the better. However due to the nature of the void world he was exiled to, he could enter other dimensions in the Infinite (infinite dimension) through his dreamscape, as could the Entity.

- Isolation did not help EX deal with his fears and insecurities in the slightest. Often he’d find himself thinking about the circumstances of his exile, no matter how hard he tried not to. The fear that everyone hated him, that he had pushed everyone away with his evil schemes and rash decisions, that even if the Hermits were nice to him, they would never truly consider him to be their friend- it consumed him.

It was only natural that they would never trust him- he lied and stole from them, after all. He deserved it, but realising that was a permanent blow to their faith in him stung far more than he anticipated.

Often he found himself questioning every relationship and interaction he’s had with other people. Was he too aggressive with the tag game? Did he forget to say goodbye to Pixl and Zloy that one time? Did he bore NPG with his rambling about Worm Man?

How long ago did X consider banishing him? Was it when he fell into old habits and reached out to press the button that would supposedly destroy the server? Was it then and there that X decided that he’d never be ‘good’, or was the decision the result of smaller mishaps? Was it when he over steeped their tea that one time? Was it when he caught himself slipping into a ranty, dramatic monologue? He recounted every stupid, impulsive decision he’d ever made, replayed it in his head hundreds of times, wracking his brain for answers he knew he’d never get.

- Over time, EX’s dreams became increasingly vivid. Most of them devolved into nightmares of phasing through fog, smoke, and crowds of vaguely recognisable people and ruined cities. Occasionally he dreamt of the dimensions in the Infinite- with its fleets of ships, endless libraries, and whispered orders.

- As he began to remember more of the dreams, EX noticed the near-constant shadowy presence that encompassed everything and nothing at the same time. He made a conscious effort to ignore it, but like all his other decisions to *not* think about something, it never truly worked. Most of the time, he was able to somewhat focus on his surroundings, but it’s when he dreamt of the Hermitcraft server that the presence was impossible to ignore.

- The presence never named itself, but disturbing as it was, EX felt compelled to trust it.

EX’s return to the Server

- EX was found at the base of an unfamiliar Nether portal. X and Joe theorised that he collapsed from the transition between game modes and exhaustion from forcing himself onto the Season 7 server.

- From the moment EX returned to the server, some of the Hermits reported incidences of objects disappearing and chunk errors. Some claimed that the layouts of their bases shifted as they walked through them.

- Joe asked around different villages to see if these incidents were constant across the server. Most of the reports tied back to folklore of an entity seen by those who travelled between dimensions.

More World Notes:

- Some of the Hermits have made contact or communicated with Higher Beings (e.g. Cub and Scar with the Vex, or EX with the ‘evil voice in his head’), but they are less powerful than the Entity.

- The Hermits are a group of interdimensional travellers. Each Season takes place on a different planet or in a similar alternate dimension

Infodump Continuation: Season Seven

Story note: Particular locations and events aren’t specific for the sake of flexibility, as the story takes place further into S7.

- Some of the Hermits reported incidents of chunk errors and missing entities. A few hours later, EX was found unconscious in front of an unfamiliar Nether portal.

- The portal was removed for the sake of clarity within the nether hub.

- EX was brought to Xisuma’s base and his reappearance was discussed during a server meeting.

- Xisuma and Joe began to investigate the cause of the reported errors. X spent hours poring over the server’s code, and Joe started asking around some villages to see if the errors were consistent across the server.

- EX didn’t wake up for a long time. Some theorised that he was exhausted from the transition between game modes and forcing himself back onto the server. Keralis and Stress mainly watched over him, and would occasionally pop in to see if he was okay. Sometimes they found him tossing and turning, but he only somewhat responded to outside stimulus.

- Joe returned, and EX woke up a few hours later. After a well needed shower and hot meal, Joe took him in and asked him to explain what happened. EX gave his ‘statement’, and began to help Joe with the investigation.

- EX talked a lot about consistent nightmares and how the dark presence didn’t go away, even if he was on the server. In fact, it seemed to whisper to him now.

- EX spent the next week or so trying to adjust to living in the Overworld. Everything was too bright and dark at the same time and called attention to itself. Sometimes he felt that the air was too full of particles. Sounds were louder than they had the right to be.

- While EX was recovering from his time in exile, the investigation was mostly reading written tomes of folklore and reports of errors in libraries.

- EX continued to suffer from frequent nightmares, and it got to the point where he was hesitant to sleep, and tried to stay awake for as long as possible. It didn’t help. Joe found him sleepwalking and muttering about searching for something, but couldn’t make out what he was searching for.

- EX grew increasingly worried about the dark presence and voices he heard in his dreams, and freaked out a bit when Joe told him about the sleepwalking. Joe offered to lock the door to EX’s room from the outside- it might not have directly helped with the problem, but it helped him feel more at ease.

🎄 5th Day of Fluffmas 🎄

⟵ Day 4 | Masterlist | Day 6 ⟶

Home for Christmas || Kageyama Tobio x Reader

Wor count: 1,878 | Gender Neutral Reader

(prompt: You’re away from home and probably won’t make it home for Christmas)

a/n: This is one I had planned pretty much from the beginning specifically for Kageyama. I realize his birthday was two days ago, but I just needed this to post on Christmas Eve.

-

“Hi Tobio.” You grin when his pixelated face comes into view on the video call.“Did you have a good day?”

“It was fine. We won our match today.” He smiles. Even though he’s away from home with his team, you’ve still managed to video chat almost every night. It’s nice, but it’s certainly not the same as having him here next to you.

“That’s great, Baby. I’m really glad.” There’s a beat of silence.“I miss you.” You sigh. Tobio lifts his hand as though to comfort you somehow, but lets it fall back to his lap.

“I miss you too.” He says instead.

You feel the cat nudge her nose against your leg, and you lift her up to your lap.“Look who it is, Pumpkin!” The orange cat glances at the screen for a few moments with a slow blink before curling up in your lap, uninterested.“She misses you too.” You assure, running your hand down her back. The low rumble of her purring is loud enough to reach Tobio’s ears.

He nods, but you can tell something is off. Even for him, he’s been too quiet. Your smile falters.“Is something wrong?”

“Well, since we won... it means we moved up a bracket. We’ll be here for another week.” He mumbles the last part, so you’re hoping you heard him wrong.

“You mean you won’t be home for Christmas?” You can’t help it - as much as you want to remain upbeat, you can’t keep the disappointment from your voice. It’s your first Christmas as a married couple, and now your husband won’t even be in the same country as you.

“No. I won’t. I’m sorry.” He runs his hands over his face. You feel the tears burning at the backs of your eyes, but you bite down hard on your lip and blink quickly to stop them from falling.

“Don’t cry.” He says anyway, folding his arms and resting his chin on them.

“I’m not.” You say stubbornly, and by sheer willpower, you have manged to banish the tears for now. He doesn’t need to know how much this hurts you. His dream is just as important to you as it is to him, and you can’t have him thinking otherwise.

“We’ll talk on Christmas?” You ask, hoping at least for that much.

“Of course we will.” He nods firmly. “We can still celebrate.” You fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments, and Tobio takes in the slice of the familiar kitchen behind you. You’d strung a green garland and twinkling lights above the cupboards, and the warm glow they cast makes your expression look especially soft.

“Is it snowing there?” You finally ask, mustering a fake brightness.

Tobio glances out the hotel room window at the clear, frozen sky and then down to the street below and the scattered pedestrians who pull their coats closer around their bodies against the cold. “No.” He turns back to the screen with a shake of his head, and watches as you turn your laptop until the kitchen window comes into view. He can just make out the softly falling flakes beyond it.

“It is here.” You say unnecessarily, turning the computer back towards yourself. “It’s pretty. Makes the city look softer, somehow. And quieter.” Soft and quiet were normally the last two adjectives Tobio would use to describe Tokyo, but he misses it all the same - it and the warm apartment with the Christmas decorations you had insisted on putting up a week before December had even begun, and most especially the smile that isn’t quite the same hundreds of miles away.

“Sounds nice.” He murmurs, wishing for probably the hundredth time this trip that he could reach through the computer screen and pull you close to his chest.“I miss you.” He says again, as a fresh wave washes over him.

“But you’ll be back home in a little more than a week, right?”

“Definitely.” Tobio takes in a deep breath.“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You insist firmly.“I’m really happy that you’re able to be there with the team. I’m so proud of you, Tobio. We knew things like this might come up, and I still wouldn’t change a thing.” You’re glad to see that he gives you a small smile.

“I should probably get to bed.” You finally admit, much as you don’t want to.“I work early tomorrow.”

“So should I.” He says, not moving.

“Goodnight, Tobio. I love you.” You lean in a little closer to the screen.

“I love you too.” Tobio lets his eyes wander your face on the screen, drinking in the details even though they aren’t as sharp as they’d be if you were right in front of him. “Goodnight, Y/N.” You blow him a kiss right before hanging up, and for a few moments Tobio sits staring at the ended call.

As he putters around the room, brushing his teeth and preparing his uniform for the next day, he can’t help feeling crushed by his own disappointment and the look on your face that you had tried so hard to disguise. As he crawls into the unfamiliar bed and pulls the quilt up to his chin, curling into himself with the absence of a warm body against his chest, his mind is whirring farther from sleep with every passing moment. He knows how much you had been looking forward to this first Christmas together in your apartment, your first Christmas since you’d been married, and he makes a silent vow to himself that he’ll find a way to give you the holiday you deserve.

The following days pass by in a whirl of activity for you, but at the center of it is a dull ache that won’t quite go away. Knowing that Tobio won’t even be home for Christmas has sucked most of the joy out of your favorite holiday. When you talk you insist that you’re happy that Tobio can have this opportunity (and you are, truly) but in the moments after Tobio’s I-love-you fades along with his face, you allow yourself to curl up into the missing and the disappointment. Even being sad isn’t quite the same without Tobio there to press kisses to the top of your head and murmur that things will get better.

On Christmas Eve, you almost cry in the break room at work when you get the text from Tobio that he won’t be able to talk that evening.

But you will tomorrow, right?

You reply quickly, almost desperately. He had promised, after all.

Of course. I love you.

It’s enough to hold you until tomorrow. You even find it in yourself to smile brightly at your co-workers, wishing them a chipper “Merry Christmas!” As you leave for the day, trying your best not to think about the empty apartment that awaits you.

“Hi, Pumpkin.” You say softly as the cat winds her way around your legs the moment you step inside. “It’s just going to be you and me tomorrow. Some first Christmas in the apartment, huh?” The cat looks up at you and lets out a small mew before slinking off. “Well it’s still Christmas even if Tobio isn’t here!” You say a bit more loudly into the empty apartment as you begin heating milk to make yourself a mug of hot cocoa.

With no Skype session to look forward to, nothing sounds better than curling up in bed a little early. Pulling the comforter around your shoulders and sinking lower into one of Tobio’s sweatshirts, you settle into bed with your drink and a queue of Christmas movies on Netflix.

It isn’t long before the exhaustion of the day gets the better of you. “We don’t need Tobio anyway, do we?” You murmured sleepily to the cat curled against you, drawing in the faint scent that still lingers on the sweatshirt as your eyes slip closed.

You’re startled awake sometime in the night by a noise you can’t quite place. You glance around the room and don’t see anything out of place, so you assume the cat must have knocked over the small tree you have set up in the living room. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

You roll over and have almost drifted back to sleep when you hear a sound suspiciously like the front door closing. A hard lump sinks in your middle, and you curl further under the blanket, debating what to do. Should you get out of bed to investigate?

Finally, when you don’t hear anything more, you decide to get up, just to soothe your fears so that you can hopefully get a little more sleep. Looking around, you pick up one of Tobio’s trophies sat on your dresser and grip it by the base, just in case. Slowly, you walk into the living room and in full view of the door. For a few moments your throat completely seizes up when you see a person faintly illuminated by the light from the hall, tugging a large bag through the door.

Just as you gather your wits enough to try to scream, the light flicks on and your husband is standing in the doorway. Your body moves before your brain catches up, and you fling the stupid trophy aside and launch yourself into his arms.

With a soft“oof” he staggers backwards, nearly toppling over. He catches himself, though, and his grip around you tightens as you wrap your legs around his middle.

“Tobio.” Between the tears and your face pressed into his neck, he can barely even tell that you’re saying his name.

“I’m here.” He says into your hair.“I’m here.” He repeats it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“But - the team?” You finally pull away just enough to lift your already tear-stained face to look at him, still gripping onto him just in case he decides to disappear.

“It took a little convincing.” He admits sheepishly.“But there was just enough time for me to get a flight this evening as long as I promised to fly back tonight. Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You can’t wait any longer and crash your lips into his, unable to keep from smiling into the sloppy kiss.“Merry Christmas, Tobio.” You say breathlessly when you finally pull away.“I can’t believe you flew here just for a day.” You’re still in slight disbelief.

“I couldn’t spend Christmas without you.” He murmurs, your face still cupped in his hands.

“Well, let’s spend the first part of Christmas by going back to bed.” You decide, feeling the drowsiness return as the shock of Tobio’s return softens to a pleasant warmth in your middle. “Come on.” You gently tug on his hand, shuffling back to the bedroom with a smile still plastered across your face. You crawl back into bed perfectly content, curling against Tobio’s chest as his arms tighten around you.

“Now it’s Christmas.” You murmur as you worm your way closer, nose to nose with Tobio and leaning in to press a kiss to his lips as the comfortable warmth lulls you back to sleep. Right as you drift off you can’t help thinking that this might be your favorite Christmas yet.

these nights (11)

word count: 6k

warnings: slight gore(?), graphic violence

summary: finally awake, jeno digs in his brain to find out what happened while jaehyun deals with pest control

a/n: finally some mafia occurrences! there is graphic violence at the end so please be careful

It doesn’t happen anything like in the movies. Jeno doesn’t wake up with a gasp where he tears his wires out in dramatic fashion. The morning he woke up, it was rather…anticlimactic. His dick was stinging uncomfortably, groaning until he opened his eyes, looking around the hospital to see Jaemin and Yejin asleep on the small futon. He sighed quietly and glanced at the digital clock in front of him.

6:30.

He scoffed, there’s no way either of them is waking up anytime soon. He jumped at the sound of the door clicking, a nurse walking in with a chart and visibly straightening up in surprise.

“Oh!” She whispered, giving Jeno a smile. “Good morning, Jeno.”

“Good morning,” he croaked, his voice barely coming out as a rasp before the nurse handed him a bit of water. He thanked her quietly before taking a sip, “how long have I been out?”

“Since your admittance on Sunday, six days. Almost a week.” The nurse replied, “how do you feel? Does anything feel out of the ordinary?”

“I have a question about…the thing…in my…you know…”

The nurse laughed, nodding her head, “it might be there for a while, or until your ribs heal enough for you to comfortably walk around to use the restroom.”

“How long will that be?”

The nurse pursed her lips, “hard to say. Maybe about two weeks?”

Jeno frowned as the nurse continued her tests. They made idle chitchat while she examined him, feeling a bit uncomfortable when she had to turn him around a few times, exposing his bare ass embarrassingly. He cleared his throat, closing his eyes to save whatever dignity he had left.

“I’m glad that you’re awake, Jeno,” the nurse continued. “Your girlfriend and your brother were really concerned.”

“My brother?”

“Jaemin is your brother, isn’t he?”

Jeno snorted, “he’s not.”

“Oh, my mistake. Either way, they were very concerned. I think it’s nice that they’re as close as they are.”

Jeno pressed his lip in a tight line to avoid laughing, “yeah. I think so too.”

“Well, I’ll tell the doctor that you’re awake when she comes in. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

Jeno shook his head, “no, I’m fine. I might go back to sleep, actually. Is it normal to still feel sleepy?”

“You might’ve not known it, but you were fighting the entire time, Jeno. It’s completely normal for you to be tired, your body worked really hard.”

“That’s reassuring,” he breathed, smiling at her once again. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“It’s my job,” she smiled. “Literally. But if you need anything at all, press the nurse button and I’ll be around.”

Jeno nodded and watched her leave, yawning almost instantly and feeling his eyelids droop.

He can’t pinpoint what happened exactly. He can barely remember untying his restraints and feeling nauseatingly dizzy before he managed to get up somehow. He remembered shooting someone, barely making it back to the car before he fell unconscious afterwards. Before Jeno could investigate his dream any further, it was over.

His eyes were still closed but he heard shuffling in the background as well as soft talking. Jeno recognized the voice to be Jaemin, a smaller sound that sounded like a kiss and Yejin’s sigh. They were awake by this point, but it didn’t sound like they were fully coherent. He heard the feet walk towards him, much lighter steps as he recognized them to be Yejin’s who pressed her lips to his forehead.

“Good morning, baby,” she said sweetly. Jeno wondered if the doctor had told him he had already woken up. If she hadn’t told him, would it be appropriate for Jeno to pop his eyes open and say good morning back?

He didn’t want to scare them.

Not only that, but he had to pee, and the catheter was really rubbing his dick the wrong way. Literally.

Jeno clenched his eyes, listening to Yejin’s breath hitch in surprise before he peeled them open again, seeing her bright face and a smile spread against her face.

“Oh my god, Jeno,” she laughed, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. “You’re awake.”

“If it isn’t my morning angel,” Jeno beamed, smiling at Yejin’s kissing his knuckles over and over again. He looked around for Jaemin, confused that he didn’t see him anywhere despite just hearing his voice. “Jaemin…?”

“He went to go get some breakfast,” she reassured. Jeno looked at the clock again, rolling his eyes when he saw it was noon.

“Hardly breakfast anymore, Yejin.”

“You’re not allowed to scold me, you just woke up,” she laughed, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I missed you, seriously. I missed you like crazy.”

“I missed you. Even though I wasn’t awake, I’m sure my subconscious missed you.”

“How do you feel? Does anything hurt like crazy?”

Jeno shook his head, “I get stings here and there, I think the doctor might’ve put me on something before I woke up again.”

“Again?”

“I was awake earlier,” he explained. “You and Jaem were asleep, though.”

Yejin frowned deeply, her bottom lip jutting out especially, “why didn’t you wake us up?”

“At six thirty in the morning? I could throw rocks at the both of you and neither of you would budge.”

“We were tired—" Yejin bit her tongue, the last thing she wanted was to make Jeno feel guilty when it wasn’t his fault. But it didn’t work, watching Jeno grimace almost instantly.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry, I said I would come home to you in one piece.”

Yejin quickly shook her head, “no baby, don’t be sorry. Maybe you didn’t come home but you’re in one piece, that’s all that matters. Plus, we’re not tired for the reasons you think, I promise.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow before Yejin brushed her hair off her shoulders, revealing faint marks on her neck that leaned towards the end of their healing cycle. Jeno scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes. If he could cross his arms he would definitely do so.

“Unbelievable,” he smiled. He carefully raised the arm that was not bandaged ran his fingers over the mark. “Been busy without me, I see.”

Yejin laughed, kissing his fingertips, “it was make up sex if it makes you feel better.”

“Little did you know that makes me feel worse,” he sighed. “What was it this time? God—I really can’t leave you two alone without one wanting to rip the other’s throat out.”

“But we made up! We did it all by ourselves, like adults.”

Jeno snorted, “who apologized first?”

“Jaeminie.”

“That’s a first. What happened?”

“Just Jaemin being…Jaemin.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes but decided to let it go in response, sighing as Yejin intertwined their fingers together. They were quiet for a moment, Yejin had rested her head on the hospital bed, placing Jeno’s hand on her head as he gently scratched at her scalp with fingernails that were a bit longer than he was used to. Yejin, on the other hand, could care less. There was a distinct difference between the way Jeno and Jaemin scratched her head, and she preferred Jeno’s slender fingertips by a mile.

Jaemin arrived moments later, humming some idol song before tossing the food on the table. He walked over to the bed and jumped at the sight of Jeno being awake, his hand on Yejin’s head as the latter had fallen asleep again.

“Holy shit, Jeno—"

It took Jaemin less than three seconds to run to Jeno’s side, peppering his face in kisses as Jeno scrunched his face. With one eye closed, he looked at his boyfriend with a smile, removing his hand from Yejin’s head before holding his hand.

“You’re okay, you’re feeling better right? Nothing hurts too bad? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

Jeno shook his head, “I’ve been awake for a while now. Don’t worry. You should eat.”

“Fuck, I should’ve waited ten more minutes and I could’ve brought you something you liked to eat, I’m sorry—do you want me to go out and buy something else—?”

“Jaemin, chill out, please.”

“You just woke up after a week and you want me to chill out?!”

“Yejin treated it like a normal person, can’t you just kiss me instead?”

Jaemin scoffed in disbelief, gingerly taking Jeno’s face in his hands before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “Yejin is not normal and neither am I, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno beamed as Jaemin pulled him in for another kiss, pulling away once they heard a surprised squeak from the door way. Jaemin cleared his throat and pressed his lips in a tight line before pulling away to look at the nurse. She had a bashful look to her face, somewhat embarrassed but confused.

“Not your brother…I see…” she added, a giggle hidden behind her lips. Jeno laughed, shaking his head.

“Not quite.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen something like it,” she reassured, shaking her head to concentrate herself on her job.

“Anyway, Jeno, these are your medications you should take for the next few days. I’ll leave some here for now, today’s dosage, but I’ll be around tomorrow just to make sure that your brain doesn’t turn into mush. There’s not much else we can do except wait for your injuries to heal but, if everything goes well, and there are no more complications with your head, we should let you go in two weeks? Again, the faster the rib heal, the faster we can get you out of here with crutches.”

“Will he need physical therapy?”

The nurse nodded, “yes. But that isn’t something that we’re concerned about until the braces and the casts are off. Right now, our main focus is that Jeno gets enough rest to ensure his bones heal properly.”

Jaemin bowed deeply, at a ninety degree angle, “Thank you so much for taking care of Jeno."

The nurse quickly shook her head and waved her hands, nervously laughing, “no, it’s fine! Really! You should really be thanking the doctor this deeply, if you ask me, she did way more than I did—"

Jaemin shook his head adamantly, “that doesn’t mean you did your best to make sure Jeno was comfortable. It means everything to me, to Yejin too. Can I ask your name at least?”

Jeno sighed, he knew exactly where this was going, “Jaemin—"

“Jang…Yeeun…?” She recited, looking at Jeno in confusion before Yejin lifted her head from her spot on the bed.

Jaemin walked around towards the nurse, taking her hands in his and looking in her eyes, holding eye contact as the poor nurse (Yeeun, apparently) could only keep it. “Yeeun, if you need anything, literally, anything in the world. Please, feel free to find me or Jeno again.”

Yejin blinked in confusion, knowing as much that Jaemin’s stare could captivate the weakest of hearts. She snorted, standing from her spot on the chair and pulling Jaemin away, “come on, Corleone. Don’t scare her.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeno mouthed to her.

“Thank you for your offer, but I’m really only just doing my job,” she chuckled shakily again. “Any other nurse would’ve done the same, I promise you.”

Yejin smiled at her, shaking her head, “don’t listen to him. He’s dramatic. But, it’s true, we’re really thankful either way.”

Yeeun smiled bashfully, bowing slightly, “I’ve got to go…I’ll be back soon! Call me if you need anything.”

“You do the same.” Jaemin beamed.

Once the door closed, Yejin was quick to spin on her heel, sending a slap with driving force to Jaemin’s shoulder, effectively wiping the moronic grin off his face, “you think she’s pretty, Jaemin?”

“It’s not like that!” Jaemin whined, rubbing his shoulder, “I just want to help her for helping Jeno, that’s all.”

“I think you scared her into giving me to another nurse,” Jeno laughed, taking Yejin’s hand as she walked back towards him.

“It’s not like I held at her gunpoint or anything,” Jaemin pouted. He walked over towards Yejin, putting his hands on her shoulders before she shrugged them off. “What—?”

“Go eat lunch with Yeeun.”

Jaemin scoffed, “you’re not serious.”

Yejin ignored him, listening to Jeno’s sigh as he squeezed her hand. Maybe he could pretend to go in a coma again.

Mornings in the Jung household were like any other morning in any other household, if Jaehyun were to speak objectively. Their lavish home perhaps wasn’t the norm amongst the majority of the population, but he liked to think that he shared a very normal morning routine.

On a morning very much like this one, Jaehyun would be the first to wake up, usually at 6 or 7am depending if Jihyun woke up and set his alarm later. Regardless of her waking up to reset his alarm, Jaehyun was almost always the first to get out of bed, walking to the bathroom before getting back in bed and looking through his phone.

He used to do work in bed for the first few hours of the day, but he stopped once he realized Jihyun liked to play dead and read over his shoulders on his laptop, finding out more than she should. This often led to her husband pulling at her ear for being so nosy.

He also avoided doing work in bed because it was so easy to give into his wife’s needs. Despite the strength Jaehyun presents, he is weak under his wife’s gaze, melting into her touch much easier than he would care to admit.

That said, Jaehyun got dressed to work at home, his outfits simple as it consisted of a darker shirt, sometimes a tee sometimes a button up, and a lighter pant before he walked downstairs to the kitchen. A small breakfast usually does the job, Jaehyun doesn’t usually eat breakfast and up until her pregnancy, neither did Jihyun. A fruit salad would suffice for today, he thought, taking the bowl into his office as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Work consisted of several different things, varying on the scale of legality as he worked two different professions with two different names. He was born Jung Jaehyun, but the name was tainted under several misdemeanors and charges, so in order to keep his legal professional reputation intact, he went by Jung Yoonoh, co-founder along with Moon Taeil on several business ventures.

Taeil was in charge of the business in New York, where he did his best laundering what he could through the union and through their restaurant chains. Every month, Taeil sent an in-depth report of all that they’ve made, sealed, locked, and under key before it was mailed to Jaehyun through a private carrier. It was up to Jaehyun to distribute pay to his workers, businesses to cut, and people to cut after the report was done. He would sigh when he saw two were skimming from the top, leading Jaehyun to call Taeil immediately to rid of the two men.

It was simple. Two men would be dead with just a phone call, and Jaehyun had been doing this long enough to not blink an eye, going onto the next task as if nothing happened.

By 9:30, he would hear Jihyun awake and shuffling around the house as she chatted with the housekeeper about menial tasks around the house. She would knock at Jaehyun’s office door at 9:45, peeking her head inside to ask if he wanted to join her for breakfast, which he always did.

Jaehyun, again, didn’t eat but he liked to spend time with his wife. He also found out that it was much more fun to say my wife instead of my girlfriend, my fiancée, etc. While his wife cooked her breakfast, he leaned against the kitchen island, sipping on his second cup of coffee as they chatted quietly about their plans for the day.

Typically, Jihyun would be gone during this time, whether it be preparing for catering or for dinner at the restaurant, she wouldn’t be home from 11 to 11 until, again, her pregnancy came in. On maternity leave and with more time than she’s used to, she found love in cooking again, taking her time creating loving dishes for herself that Jaehyun often picked from her plate.

Finished with his cup of coffee he placed it in the sink before wrapping his arms around Jihyun, sighing as he kissed her neck and snuggled in her shoulder.

...don’t you think?”

“Hm? What, sorry?”

“I was saying I think I need to add more salt, don’t you think?”

“I’d say yes, but then you complain about your feet being swollen later,” he replied.

Jihyun sighed when she realized he had a point, instead opting to plate her dish despite her husband being attached to her back. They couldn’t honeymoon now, with the current circumstance, but cuddling like this would have to do until Jihyun poked his side for him to let her go.

Jaehyun munched on an apple as he watched her eat, again chatting along throughout the meal as they chat with the housekeeper as well. Jaehyun realized his home maybe was too quiet, maybe they should get a dog. He tried mentioning this to Jihyun afterwards, to which she scrunched her nose and quickly refused. She didn’t want the house smelling like dog, she much less wanted hair everywhere.

“Not to mention, you’re enough.”

Jaehyun frowned, “I’m not a dog.”

“You act like it,” she grinned, watching her husband roll his eyes.

Jaehyun would kiss her goodbye before he would go back to his office after his short break, where he continued to work until 1:30, where he would deem himself done for the day. The schedule was really for him to get work done earlier so he could spend more time with the baby, and later have time to make dinner once Hyerim started going to school and be around to play.

Jaehyun wouldn’t say his father was absent in his childhood, but he was absent in his own way. His father existed only when he was doing work, rarely did they see each other at home, often crossing paths while they did a job and seeing each other during meetings the older and more involved Jaehyun got. Jaehyun would also argue it was the same for Jaemin, but different for Jisung as he was more present in his childhood but obviously absent during adolescence.

He wanted to break the cycle in any way he could with Hyerim and any child they decided to have in the future. Setting a playpen in his office was a start, as was the schedule he enforced himself so that his afternoons were free for playing, shopping, or homework doing. Whatever Hyerim wanted, he would work for her to get.

At 1:45 he left and locked his office once again, shuffling towards the living room to see Jihyun asleep on the couch, her feet propped up on the end of the couch, swollen, as Jaehyun predicted. He laughed to himself and sat at the end of the couch, taking her feet and pressing his thumbs into the balls of her feet, watching her face contort in pain.

“Ow,” she mumbled.

“I told you they would get swollen.”

Jihyun dismissed him as she laid on her side, her hand resting on her belly as she fell asleep once more.

Jaehyun watched tv mindlessly until his phone rang, using his free hand to answer a call from his brother, “hey, Jisung.”

“hyung, I have a favor to ask but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

Jaehyun sighed heavily and listened to his request. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, the same amount of money to be deposited into his account as his allowance because Jaehyun knew that he had used it on games yet again. He scolded Jisung again, telling him that the next time this happened he would be splitting his allowance in half, and the next time would be by 3/4.

The youngest tried to explain that he didn’t know how it happened, but Jaehyun heard none of it, warning Jisung to not to let it happen again or that he was going to sign him up for a job at a convenience store. Jisung quickly said that there would be no need, thanking his brother before he hung up the phone.

“Jesus Christ, Jisung,” he sighed heavily. He heard Jihyun laugh next to him, somewhere in between awake and asleep as she spoke with her eyes closed.

“Maybe we’re having a daughter because God already gave you a son,” she joked, smiling at her husband’s snort.

“He’s not my son, he’s my failed attempt at parenting,” he grumbled. Jihyun laughed again, sitting up and cuddling into his arms.

The two watched TV quietly, Jihyun’s head resting on his shoulder rubbing her stomach as Jaehyun ran his fingers through her hair. He teased her for it being so knotted, but she would only reply with a pinch to his thigh.

Jaehyun’s phone rang again, causing him to tilt his head back and groan. Jihyun noticed this and grinned, poking at his ribs to irritate him more, “do you think he spent it all already?”

“I’ll kill him, I’ll actually kill him—oh thank god, it’s Jaemin.”

“Your favorite son?”

Jaehyun squinted and gave her the finger, “yeah, Jaemin?”

Jihyun watched as Jaehyun’s eyes widened. Jaehyun sat up, pulling away from Jihyun and instantly standing up from his spot, she huffed at the sudden action but continued to watch with her arms crossed.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Is he okay, does he need anything?”

Jaehyun paused, his lip in between his teeth as he rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to try anything, Jaemin, thank you for having faith in me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Jaehyun sighed, hanging up the phone before leaning in to kiss Jihyun quickly, “I’ve got to go.”

“Where? What happened?”

Jihyun followed Jaehyun to the front door where he shoved his arms through his coat pocket while slipping on his shoes.

“Jeno’s awake. I’ve got to see if he’s okay, maybe ask him a question or two, but I’m just want to go see him.”

“Is he okay? Is his head okay?”

Jaehyun shrugged, “Jaemin said he was mostly coherent, but I don’t know what he means by that so I’m going to go check for myself.”

“Don’t push him too much, baby.”

“I’m not. Jeno’s like my little brother too, I want to make sure he’s good as well,” Jaehyun sighed. “Not after I put him through the car accident.”

Jihyun frowned, “Jaehyun-"

Said man shook his head, kissing her forehead, “I can’t. I’ll be back later, maybe for dinner.”

Jihyun sighed regardless, nodding before squeezing his hand, “drive safely, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, I’ll call you.” He reassured, blowing her a kiss before closing the door behind him.

He arrived sooner than the fifteen minutes, making it to the hospital in a flat eight minutes before running towards the elevators. He was reprimanded for running by a worker, but he didn’t care, barely squeezing by elevator doors and shocking some doctors in surprise.

The next floor was the ICU, Jaehyun excusing himself out the door as a family pushed their way out as well.

He rounded the corner towards Jeno’s room. Jaehyun’s hand hovered over the handle, his fingernail digging in his hands before opening the door and walking inside. He heard chatting inside the room, a voice he recognized to be Jeno’s as he walked in.

Sure enough, he was awake. His head was still wrapped tightly with gauze, but he looked better than he did the last time he saw him, which was when he was first admitted. Jaehyun would admit that he didn’t visit Jeno as much as he would’ve liked, partially because he still felt remorse for putting him in the situation that he was in now. Not to mention, he’s not sure if Jaemin is happy with him either, despite being the first person he called when Jeno woke up.

Jeno made eye contact with Jaehyun, his eyes brightening as he sat up, “hyung-"

“Don’t Jeno,” he said gently, pressing Jeno back against the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jeno smiled, “you’re like the tenth person to ask me that today. I’m fine, really.”

Jaehyun felt relief, exhaling softly before placing a hand on his shoulder, “Jeno, I’m really sorry that I sent you out there, I should’ve known that-“

Jeno reached for his hand, shaking his head, “no one would’ve known that, hyung. No matter how talented you are, I would’ve never seen it coming.”

Jaehyun tried to force a smile, but the closest thing that came out was a grimace. He looked around to greet Yejin silently, looking at his brother last who was sat on the couch. Jaemin made no effort to greet him until he made eye contact with him, nodding in response.

“He’s not mad at you,” Jeno said quietly, enough for only Jaehyun to hear, “and if he is, he’s deflecting.”

“I wouldn’t blame him if he was mad at me, if we’re speaking honestly,” Jaehyun reassured. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“No, I’m fine really. But there is something I should tell you, Jaehyun hyung.”

“It can wait until you’re feeling better, Jeno. You just woke up.“

Jeno shook his head, “no. I have to tell you now.”

Jaehyun picked at the scab on his hand, looking at Yejin and Jaemin who were sat on the couch, “do you want them to be around? Or do you want to tell me alone?”

Jeno pressed his lips in a tight line. He beckoned Yejin over, giving her a shoddy excuse that he craved a specific type of chocolate milk, asking if she could please buy him one from the cafe on the lobby. Yejin agreed wholeheartedly, quickly making her way towards the door.

Jaemin looked up suspiciously, raising his eyebrows before he made it towards Jeno’s bedside, “what’s going on?”

“I wanted to talk to you and Jaehyun hyung, but I didn’t want to freak Yejin out.”

Jaemin looked up at his brother, glaring at him through his eyelashes, “you should get some rest, Jen-"

“I think you forget that I’m above you, Jaemin.” Jeno said firmly, “I hate pulling that card, but I told you that I’m fine.”

Jaemin shut his mouth, backing off and biting his lip instead. Jeno took a deep breath, looking at his hands before thinking about what to say next.

“I don’t…really remember,” he prefaced, “but, I do remember that I wasn’t in the car at first. Mark hyung had sent me to bring the car around, so I went downstairs. For some reason, the key wasn’t working, and I couldn’t unlock it. I think they might’ve switched the cars to get me standing there or something. I don’t remember.”

“But I remember getting hit over the head with something hard and being dragged somewhere. It might’ve been the orphanage, but I really can’t remember-“

“Don’t strain yourself, Jeno. I don’t expect you to remember anything.“

Jeno shook his head adamantly, “the point is, I remember being…barked at? Like, a dog?”

“What the fuck do you mean? Like woof-woof?” Jaemin pressed.

Jaehyun swallowed, his blood running cold, “do you know what they sounded like?”

“They were guys, but one was either a girl or a kid that hadn’t hit puberty yet.” Jeno clenched his eyes, “I think there were real dogs there too, but I barely remember leaving.”

Jaehyun’s fingernail was found in between his teeth, tearing at the skin before pulling away from his bloody fingers, “it’s fine, Jeno.”

“Do you know anything about someone barking, hyung?” Jaemin asked Jaehyun quietly.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. Jaehyun didn’t want to incite more fear than there already was. “I’ll talk to Johnny hyung before he leaves for Chicago. I’m leaving for New York next week to see Taeil hyung, I’ll ask if he knows anything too.”

Jaehyun looked up at Jaemin, “can I talk to you? For a second?”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, following his brother outside, “what?”

“Have you told Jeno about what happened a few days ago?”

Jaemin shook his head, “no. Should I?”

Jaehyun shrugged, “what do you think? Do you think it’s useful?”

“Maybe not right now, but he’s going to be suspicious if we start talking about moving all of sudden.”

Jaehyun clicked his tongue pensively, “maybe…for the time being, you should move into dad’s house. Just temporarily.”

“You don’t think he’ll be more suspicious?”

“It’s not like you’ll tell him that you’re living somewhere else.”

Jaemin frowned, “I don’t like lying to Jeno.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem lying to Yejin.”

Jaehyun watched Jaemin’s eyes narrow, “whatever. I’ll think about it, but I’ll think about telling Jeno sometime soon instead.”

“Do whatever you have to do, Jaem. You’re in charge of your group until Jeno gets better.”

This was something he already knew but Jaemin still frowned, more so now that it had been confirmed. Jaehyun went back inside for only a moment, saying his goodbyes to Jeno and Yejin now that she arrived. Jaehyun gave a knowing glance towards Jaemin before the latter gave a nod.

By the time Jaehyun got back into his car, his head was pounding against his skull, groaning before he hit his head over the steering wheel. He glanced over the glove compartment and reached for the cigarettes he hid in there for a rainy day, only before grimacing and realizing Jihyun would not only be disappointed, but sad that he gave up.

He sighed, turning on the car and opting to drive home instead. He opened the window to let cold air hit his face in attempts to distract him from anything else, which seemed to work until he got home, the stress weighing heavy on his shoulders.

The housekeeper was on her way out when Jaehyun got home, smiling at her and telling her to get some rest before he walked inside. He kicked his shoes off at the door and shuffled inside the house, noticing that both the kitchen and the living room were empty. He heard noise from upstairs and made his way towards the sound, Jihyun was most likely in the nursery, except Jihyun appeared from the laundry room.

“Hey-"

Jaehyun quickly shoved her back inside the laundry room, her eyes widening in surprise as she fumbled her words.

“Jaehyun—?! What—?”

He pressed a finger to his lips, “stay here. Don’t move until I come back.”

Jihyun furrowed her eyebrows before her husband left the laundry room. With his gun gripped in between his fingers, he quietly walked on the side of the steps to make sure not a single creak was heard. The noise was coming from the nursery, and it was making his stomach churn. He took a deep breath as he walked towards the door, seeing that it was slightly ajar as he watched a shadow inside.

Jaehyun took another step inside, wincing at the sound of creak and watching the shadow move quickly for his belt. He kicked the door open, shooting the figure in the stomach and watching as he doubled over before Jaehyun pushed him on the ground with his foot, pressing into the wound.

“Don’t fucking try it,” he glared, the gun aimed for his head.

“Just leaving a gift for the baby,” the man croaked under him. His face was hidden by a mask. “A puppy, a new one.”

Jaehyun gritted his teeth, moving his foot from his stomach to his throat, pressing against the Adam’s apple as the man choked under him, “who are you? What do you want with my family?”

“The Whisperer protects us, protects people like us. Jeno, your baby, your wife, he wants to protect them.”

“My wife has nothing to do with you, you fucking creep,” Jaehyun seethed, increasing the weight on his foot. “Who. Are. You?”

“The Whisper protects us, protects people—"

Jaehyun unloaded the clip in the mystery man’s skull, his jaw tight as blood splattered on his clothing. Once empty, he tossed the gun to the side, reaching to yank the mask off his face and almost gagging. Jaehyun had seen his fair share of mutilated faces, and him unloading the gun into his face didn’t cause the disgusting face that was left.

The face was full of scars and burns, barely recognizable as a human. He had no hair, no eyelashes from what he could tell, and if Jaehyun could guess, he wouldn’t have fingerprints either. He pulled the gloves off and furrowed his eyebrows.

He didn’t even have fingers. Where his fingers would be were replaced by a metal prosthetic.

“What the fuck are you?” Jaehyun said in disgust, throwing the gloves on the dead man’s face.

Jaehyun reached for his phone, calling Johnny instantly.

“yeah?”

“Come over. Now.”

“Wait, why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk right now. Get over here.”

“I’m on my way.”

Jaehyun put his phone back in his pocket and remembered Jihyun in the laundry room, quickly closing the door to the room before running downstairs. It seemed that whoever that person was worked alone and might’ve been the same person who was in Jeno, Jaemin, and Yejin’s home almost a week ago.

He opened the door to the laundry room and held his hands up when Jihyun raised the gun to his head, “it’s me, baby. It’s me.”

Her eyes traced the blood patterns on his pants and beginnings of his shirt, “what…did you do? Jaehyun, what’s going on?”

“Someone was in the house."

“—what?! What do you mean—?!”

“Not important,” he said quickly.

“Jaehyun, you’re covered in blood, what do you mean it’s not important? I’m confused.”

Jaehyun smoothed his hand over her hair and kissed her forehead, “I need you to pack up some things. I need you to go to your parents’ house for a while-“

“I’m not leaving, Jaehyun. This is my home.”

“Please, Jihyun. Just this once, please just listen to me.”

“Jaehyun, you’re scaring me,” Jihyun said quietly, “what is going on?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out, but I need to make sure you and Hyerim are safe.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll stay at the warehouse for a few days until I go to New York-“

“Can I come with you? To New York?”

Jaehyun shook his head, “not this time, baby. I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun sighed and kissed her forehead again when he saw her cry, holding her close and rubbing her back, “I’ll be fine, Jihyun.”

“Promise that you’ll call every day, Jung Jaehyun. Every day at four o’clock. I don’t care that I’ll be asleep, I just need to know you’re okay.”

Jaehyun nodded, “I promise. Let’s go get you packed, I’ll call your dad in the meantime.”

Jihyun followed Jaehyun up the stairs, looking at the closed nursery they always kept open. Jihyun looked to her husband, who only shook his head and led her towards the door. He sat on the bed and spoke to her father while she packed quietly, every so often letting tears fall over her cheeks.

Jinho arrived quickly, pulling his daughter into his arms and hugging her tightly. He took her luggage and told her to wait in the car, gathering the opportunity to talk to Jaehyun quickly.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone got in the house,” Jaehyun whispered. “He said he had a gift for the baby, that he was there to protect her and Jihyun.”

“I need her to stay with you for a week, maybe longer until I find out what’s going on.” Jaehyun scratched at his neck, “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to I just-“

“I understand, Yoonoh. Be safe, I can’t afford to lose my son.”

Jaehyun wished he could smile, but he could only nod, his father-in-law’s hand falling heavy on his shoulder.

Jinho put his daughter’s luggage in the car, shutting the trunk closed before sitting the driver’s seat, watching Jihyun look at Jaehyun through the living room window.

He put a hand on hers, squeezing tightly, “he’ll be okay.”

Jihyun couldn’t respond, she could only hold his hand.

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Anguish 002- Anarchy

“Out of genuine free will, I, Lee Minho, exercise the divine right to reject my sacredly designed soulmate.”

Member: Lee Minho / Lee Know x Femme Reader (she/her)

Au: FratBoi! Minho + Rejected Soulmate AU

Genre: Angst, with added fluffy flashbacks past life to make it enjoyable lol

Rated T for a #@&% ton of swearing, violent bodily reactions/extreme pain, hospitals, drunk people, altercations, and just general intensity 👀💀

Note:It skips around a lot, a border is before and after the past life flashbacks/dreams and after those, it’ll say when/where it’s set!! Hmu if it’s still confusing~

Word Count:4.3k

Anguish series 2/?-001, ~002~

Edited: 210116(Original: 190918)

‼Edit: rewritten to exclude Kim Woojin, so the characters in the plot are now all scrambled and changed from the original!! If you’ve read this before- first of all thank you so much🥺💓💞- secondly you might want to reread because of the supporting character changes going forward!!😅🥰💝‼

Your eyelids flash open in the backseat of an unfamiliar sedan, the car jostling your seatbelt-less form about as it’s swerving fast down the side streets in the dead of night. Being brought back to consciousness unfortunately also brought agony that unconsciousness saved you from. Your current state knocks the breath right out of you, forcing out pathetic whimpers for breaths of needed oxygen, alerting the people in the front.

“Y/n?” Through the agony just of just being conscious, you hazily hear Jamie’s highly concerned voice. This is the first time in your decade-long friendship that you’ve heard her voice sound like this. Though, you only hear your surroundings very blearily and distant as if you were some sort of different time and space. Her voice- it was full of fear!

You just croaked out an incoherent sound as an acknowledgment as best you could between gasps for air. That’s all you could conjure, with your heart and brain pulsing magma through your entire body. Your insides must be neon at this point from the excessive heat and energy surging through you. You felt as if you were burning up, burning [alive]. Not even the overflowing tears, sweat, pathetic snot, and slobber could cool you from the intensity of the fever.

“Is she awake?!”

“I think so? She’s making weird noises and she’s moving!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh-” The rattling car slowed down a bit.

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD, SEUNGMIN!”

“I’M SORRY! JESUS!”The car sped right back up, maybe even faster than before, ramming into a harsh turn which came with an entourage of groans from both the vehicle and its passengers.

“Fucking hell!”

“I said I’m -fucking- sorry!”

“Just keep driving, for Christ’s sake! And I’ll keep giving you directions!-”

“Okay, okaayy!!~ God!”

You’re not quite sure how much time passed from the time when you awoke in this godforsaken sedan and when it reached a full stop. It could have been five minutes, fifteen, or an hour. The torture of rejection had you blacking out frequently on the turbulent ride to this unknown location. Your main focus is only on the sole fact that your soul was getting ripped apart each second, a chaotic ride was the least of your worries. The only stream of consciousness you remember is that you threw up in the backseat once or twice, and all-consuming, volcanic pain and fever. You also had no idea where in the hell they were taking you, and you weren’t in a state to care. Hell, you didn’t even know what was up and what was down, what year it was, you had much more prominent, violent, bodily reactions that took up all of your bleary concentration.

Once the car did reach a full, screeching stop you heard the grating metal of the rush of seatbelts being undone, the jerk of the car’s ignition switch off with a gritty rattle of keys, doors being ripped open, slammed shut, only for the doors near you being ripped open in succession. It made your ears bleed, or maybe they were already bleeding. Wait, are my ears bleeding?

“Holy shit!!”

“How in the hell did she puke that much?! My fucking car!”

“Oh my god, Seungmin, shut the fuck up! We’re not worried about that right now! Help me carry her in!”

“Okay, okay, okay! Jesus!”

“Here, I’ll come on your side.”Another door slam. Soon after, you were startled to feel a pair of comparatively cold hands latch at each of your arms and gently ripping them out from under you, pitchy sounds of disapproval screeched out of you before they began dragging your wrecked body towards them. You weren’t conscious enough to feel the amount of humiliation you normally would at being fussed over like this, or how you may appear or what sort of public decency you might have. You could only spit out loud incomprehensible sounds of discontent. So out of it, you had no choice but to submit to whatever they were doing and allow yourself to be helped, even if you currently feel like your suffering is being heightened significantly. Your eyes were still swirling around inside your head in dizziness, brain throbbing, being upright only aggravated your body more with the forced movements and new changes in circulation.

“And up!~” That was met with groans from all of you.

“Fucking hell there’s more of her than I remember!!”

“Shut the hell- Literally no one has ever asked you anything, Seungmin.”

“It’s not like that! I’m saying she’s tall, Jamie! Why is she so long-”

”For the love of fuckingtheater, please put a sock in it. I thought you were supposed to be the quiet one!”You can barely hear them by now, their voices blurred away further and further until you once again float away and away, right back into the mercy of sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

Soft snowflakes fall upon your warm cheeks- happy, smiling cheeks. It was only because of said precious snowflakes melting against your warm skin that you were made aware that your cheeks must be as red as the scarf your grandmother knitted for you. Despite all this snow, all you could see was what was vaguely forty or so yards away from you: A single figure among the rest, a handsome young man with whom you felt an immediate pull.

Your train was about to leave and the rambunctious morning rush is now in full swing. The train you were supposed to catch to leave to a new city with a future waiting for you would take off soon, you kept trying to remind yourself. You couldn’t risk losing your train for a random stranger! But, despite all of your best efforts to carry on, you felt no urge to go and chase a suddenly meaningless mode of transportation. You felt full all of a sudden, complete, all because of some blurry stranger in front of you, whose silhouette you could barely even see amongst the hoards of people bustling past you in every direction.

My god, does this mean- Could it be?! This feeling, this person, is that-

“Is that ‘You’?” You heard your voice call out, loud enough to yell over the hustle and bustle, your eyes twinkling wide in wonder.

Nothing else in this world could matter even half as much as this person in front of you. This person you hardly got glimpses of in-between rushing people. Not even the train that would take you to a safe, guaranteed future, seemed to weigh as much to you as this stranger. Just glimpses of this man, made things feel right, in a way you couldn’t begin to explain. A feeling deep, deep inside you told you that everything in your life has led to this. That you came to this train station to see him, and not to leave the city to another. If it was socially acceptable to slap yourself in the face for what you are currently thinking, what you are currently doing- you’d do it. You were going to miss this train, your ticket was not refundable, you had an opening to pursue-

“I’d assume so!” He tried to get out loudly all the while shoving through, inching closer. Without a doubt, he was just as affected as you. Seemingly, entirely more thrilled like he had no other plans than to meet you, despite the blatant fact he must have some. He’s at the train station at daybreak for god’s sake!

“Where are my manners? I’m sorry!! My mother would have a fit- raising me better than this!” His tone was infinitely more friendly and silly than you would have predicted, especially in comparison with the words he said. Why is he smiling so wide while apologizing? For some reason you loved it! This must be one of his many quirks.

“My name is Minho Lee.” He came even closer as he was saying this with cool, confident footsteps inching your way despite the busy, disruptive rushed bodies, all with their own lives, their own hurried paths. All that was important to you suddenly was this beacon of a person in front of you, whose DNA was handwoven by the celestial, specifically for you, a matched set.

“I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n- It-it’s a pleasure!” You offered your hand for him to shake. You didn’t even know what to say, you just relied on your natural politeness and ingrained manners to get those few words out.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss L/n.” And then he smiled, his angelic feline smile sealing the deal. Just with his sparkly smile and an electric handshake, all your doubts fade away.

Park Jinyoung Memorial Hospital

Room 3025

“-I don’t want him here!! I’m not letting him come in here!“You come to, the sound of a vaguely familiar voice waking you up. None of your other senses seem to be working well besides your hearing, and even that was dubious, barely catching any of the words that were being said, almost as if you were underwater.

“Jamie! It’s been ten hours! He’s her soulma-“Ten hours- since what?

“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass, Chris!! He’s the reason she’s like this! He could hurt her even more!!“Jamie and Chris? Jamie and Chris- where have you heard those names again?

“Jamie, shut up!! Her monitors will go off, they said she might still be able to hear- you’ll stress her out!!”Monitors?! Monitors, what places have monitors? Are they talking about you? You think so- You tried to open your eyes to investigate, but they refused to budge.

“‘Think this is bad, Seungmin?! Think what’ll happen if Minho walks through the door-“Huh?! Minho!! That name sounds familiar- The blaring sound of a heart rate monitor beeping interrupts your thoughts before you can continue much further.

“Don’t say his name! She’s reacting negativ-“They have to be talking about you! The heart rate has to be yours right- you reacted and then the heart rate spiked- then the sound happened. WAIT, YOU’RE IN A HOSPITAL! You’re in a hospital and hooked up to things! Your monitors give off an alert, though that doesn’t shut up these people you’re hearing.

“Oh?! So you don’t want me to say his name but you want me to allow his unstable ass to come on in and get some visiting hours on the books?! How does that even make sense, Chris!?”Oh wow. Okay, this is- a lot.

“Jamie, be realistic-”

“No you guys be realistic! Y/n’s parents are flying out here and they’re allowing me to speak on Y/n’s behalf until they land. And I’m not allowing that fucker to come anywhere near this room until she’s healed a little-”Seriously, what in the hell is going on right now? So much is happening all at once, you just woke up- What happened?! You want to go back to your dreams, not a whirlwind of whatever the fuck this is.

“Who says she’ll heal? Her soul is dying-”Hold up! Pause. What now- ‘dying’?! DYING? WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY SOUL?

“SHE’S D-“ The voice tried to continue, only to be cut off, but it’s to be expected at this point though.All you can do is stand and watch… well in your case, lay down and listen... to try and help you make sense of this.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“It’s true! Y/n’s-”

“I said don’t… the two of you can leave now.”Oh god- this is just getting uglier and unpleasant by every shouted word. What on earth did you wake up to, well... you’re not completely awake to be fair. You can’t seem to feel or move. It's like you’re just floating around, distantly experiencing your sense of sound.

“Jamie!”

“Leave.”

“Jamie, I’m her friend too you can’t just-”They’re my friends!! That’s how I know these people! Finally some answers!

The sound of a door being burst open met with quick footsteps. “Is everything alright in here? What’s going on? Do I need to get a Doctor? Security?”Hearing the distress of this person made your heart race faster, yet again, nerves heightening by this highly concerned person storming in.

Wait- what were you even in here for?

“No-”

“They were just about to leave, ma’am-“

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask all three of you to leave. We have to calm her down and then run some tests. It seems that Y/n's vitals became unstable again. We’ll contact you, Jamie, and her parents when we’re done, and you can come back.”

You were out in the country, on your way to fetch some water from the well for you and your oversized family. Being a frequently forgotten middle child, you often get away with hiding away in these fields, perhaps with a book or some sewing project you worked at, or perhaps just taking in the sun’s rays, cloud gazing, or napping like a kitten in the pleasant sunlight. Alas, today wasn’t so kind to you and as your younger brother who was usually charged with this task, fell sick in bed, thus the task was passed along to you.

The well wasn’t too far, a nice walk for some. But all this time could be spent doing something more fun, something filled with more imagination than someone your age should have. Something curious or something that instilled peace in your heart. Something that didn’t involve hauling water in buckets back to the cottage without it sloshing it all over the place, spilling it, and splashing onto your layers in your rush to get back.

Out of breath and traveling back with a heavy wooden bucket filled to the rim with water in each hand, your hand-me-down clad self began walking back along the dirt road. When you finally decide to look ahead and not at the buckets, you spy two people on horses trotting your way. You shake your head a few times making sure that what you were seeing was actually happening and not one of your daydreams.

Today was not a day full of your mind's little tricks, this was happening. It was made real as each second drew nearer. The two seemed to slow down their trotting as if to approach you. As they grew closer, the clearer they became, making it all the more apparent that they were in some sort of uniform, clearly of higher status within the military. Your eyes grew to the size of the chipped plate you ate upon this morning. It wasn’t often you’d see or interact with anyone with a status of any kind, much less outside of the village, right outside your family’s humble cottage doors.

Eventually, the two came to a complete stop in front of you. The first man on your right seems to have a stern look despite his pretty lips, he could only be described as beautiful. His face was angular yet soft but his aura made it feel sharp, his presence alone felt important. He cleared his throat, right when your eyes were about to wander to his companion, who’s eyes you could feel began to take you in. You gasped in realization, quickly set down your buckets, and deeply bowed, paying your overdue respects. You nearly forgot to, too startled by their presence, to say the least.

“I beg your pardon, sirs! It’s not often I see military in the area, it certainly is a shock! Please forgive my manners!” You wobbly got out, still bowing at a ninety-degree angle and looking down low at your worn shoes, too embarrassed to look up now. They could beat you for your disrespect if they wanted to. Your mother would have killed you herself if she found out.

“Let it rest, Sergeant.” You heard a downright musical voice chide the soldier you made eye contact with earlier before continuing. “The poor girl is spooked, to say the least! Not much unlike that new recruit- what’s his name- Jeongin! Not unlike Jeongin’s horse!” You couldn’t hold in the snort at his execution of what you’re assuming is supposed to be a good-natured joke at your expense to ease tensions. He seemed to be just as flustered as you, his delivery mocked himself more than he could’ve attempted to mock you!

When you finally decide to look up, you instantly make eye contact with him. Unfortunately, you become even more ‘spooked’ than before! This man was astonishing, completely, and utterly astonishing. He looked as if he were carved out of stone, but his voice was so sweet and mischievous. He was the sort of contradiction you’ve read about in books, you still couldn’t fully comprehend if this is just another one of your daydreams or your reality. His radiant features almost make you fall over before regaining balance, but not without emitting humiliating noises that had the two of them snickering.

And you thought that other guy was pretty! Just one moment of eye contact with this one before immediately feeling tingles from your head to your toes and your face became even hotter now; hotter than the sun.

“My soulmate?” He gasped in amazement, amazement at you.His eyes lit up like he was handed the keys to a castle for a weekend. He’s full of newfound energy and leaned a bit too much on the flirtatious side for your face to handle. Your face could only get so red. He was testing your body pigment’s limits and he didn’t say more than a few sentences.

“Soulmate?” You whispered, fully astonished now. Your brain is surely gonna fry any second now. Your unrelenting plate-sized eyes zooming across the entirety of his being, trying to take it all in at once with the wonder of an astronomer looking at the night sky for the first time.

“You know what this means, Sergeant Hwang?”

“Lieutenant , we have t-”

“It means I have some parents to meet!”

“What are you- you haven’t even asked for my name!” Your voice ripped itself out of you without your permission, your sentence could only be described as informal.

“Right, you’re quite right, even if you were a bit informal, I’ll have to forgive you for that now that I have been equally as such.” Then all of a sudden he began to dismount the horse, making your eyebrows fly to your hairline. He quickly dismounted the horse with the grace of a dancer, and immediately began to approach you. While all this was happening, ‘Sergeant Hwang’ had no problem gawking at you and his superior, but you could hardly care. Most of your energy focused on your sense of sight now that he was coming out of the now blinding setting sun and off his high horse, literally. And what a sight to behold he truly was. His gorgeous, generously lashed eyes looking right into yours, now only a respectable foot away from you.

“What’s your name then, my love?” He asked, reaching for your hand, instantly giving you both a zap which makes you both giggle in awe. Just the touch of him had you toasting in your high collared cotton. The sizzling increased but the realization set in, your hands were the two final pieces to the puzzle. Nothing in your sheltered, naive world made so much sense or felt so right like this.

“It’s- it’s Y/n.~” You breathed, looking up from your connected hands into his sharp facial features that became soft with endearment, crystal eyes gleaming at you in response.

Sigma Kappa Zeta Fraternity House

Twelve hours ago

“WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING MINHO?!” Changbin started chasing after Lee Minho who already made it the majority of the way up the narrow, carpeted stairs. Changbin was outraged that he’d pull this shit, especially at a time like this.

For some reason, in his mind, he thought that when Minho found his soulmate, his reckless behavior would cease. Alas, he witnessed with his own two eyes, Minho did just do the unthinkable and rejected the very person that was made for him. Shock and anger didn’t even begin to describe how Changbin felt. He had to get to the bottom of this, this just didn’t make any sense. This behavior just wasn’t acceptable anymore. Minho has gone too far. He could no longer tolerate his friend’s bullshit. Someone had to collect him and knock some sense into him!

If Changbin had to be the one to knock some sense to Minho he would. When he saw the way Y/n and Minho looked at each other, he was ecstatic that it was you he was destined for. He’d never admit to it unless probed, but he may or may not had eyes for you a semester or two ago.

Noting your understated beauty and the unabashed quirks like how you only sat in odd positions, the excessive amount of pens and highlighters you liked to use, and your unrivaled cuteness despite your grunge exterior. He knew you could be just the right person butter Minho up, but he didn’t even let you say a sentence to him before he severed the celestial bond before booking it the hell out of there without a second thought.

What Changbin wouldn’t give to find his own soulmate, his one and only, and to see how quickly Minho just threw his away- No, Changbin couldn’t just stand there and watch! Minho wasn’t being rational, he probably wasn’t even thinking at all! He was being completely and utterly selfish, a fucking coward.

Changbin was tailing after Minho now, catching up closer and closer with each stride through the masses of drunk or high college kids. Minho was beginning to run with a limp, palming at his chest, as he was shoving his way through crowds of endless people partying their sorrows away. The younger one started to notice the closer he got, the more clearer it was to see that his friend looked off. Like he was injured, or maybe seriously sick. As if he was not only running from you but also running away from the symptoms and the consequences of his actions.

Changbin barely made it in time to catch Minho when he inevitably doubled over in pain, shouts of which were being swallowed down, only bits and pieces coming out as chokes and grunts, and he refused to even look at Changbin. Completely and utterly ashamed, and full of frustration as he was trying to get Changbin off of him. But changbin was easily stronger than him in this state. The swarms of people on the main level just aloofly made a bit of a way for the two boys, with a roll of the eyes, just assuming it was another drunkard wilding out with a friend coming after him.

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Minho?!” Changbin interrogated, holding Minho at his shoulders with eyes studying him with the disappointment of a father and the confusion of a child.

“Ssstop- just- fUCk! Let go of me-“ Minho was thrashing in his arms, at this point he rendered a fish out of water, in dire need of something out of reach to breathe clearly. Beginning to freeze up as well as he hissed breaths in and out, acting as if he was going to pass out soon if Changbin didn’t do something, but what exactly, Changbin had no idea.

Changbin has only heard distant horror stories of people rejecting their soulmate, shit like his sister’s friend’s brother’s cousin. Never in his life did he think he’d witness such a thing right before his very eyes. Before now, he didn’t even know what the incantation even was to reject a soulmate! Was there an incantation to undo it? Was there more than one to reject someone and if so did it need a specific matching reverse incantation? Does Minho know the reversal to the one he recited? Or could you even reverse it in the first place-

“Minho!!” Changbin gripped him by the shoulders this time, forcing his thrashes to a stop, though Minho was still huffing and puffing far too much to be just from the quick dash he did. “How do you reverse this!?”

“It’s too late, it’s too late, it's too laaaate~!“ Minho wallowed, practically blubbering, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Get over yourself!!” Changbin gritted his teeth before smacking him across the face, shaking his own head in disbelief.

“OWW- wHAt the fU-“

“I said, get over yourself!” Changbin clutched at Minho tighter, forcing him to look into his fiery eyes. “Think of others for once and grow the fuck up, already! You got yourself in this mess, now how do you get yourself out of it?”

“I did it out of free will-” Minho gasped for air, glaring his once sharp eyes at him. “It won’t be easy-” With each second passing by Minho’s breaths became more labored, his body twitching and stiff with intensity, veins popping out, pleading for help.

Unlike the quick wildfire of pain you went through, Minho experiences a slow, dull pain creeping up him, leaving him begging for it to be over before it even really began. Drawn out, slow and steady in the worst way, with each minute he began to wish it were harsher or to get it over with. This dull, icy knife cutting at him slowly, was truly torturous, like a death from a thousand cuts.

Changbin, on the other hand, was honestly so disgusted with this entire situation, and the fact it was out of his best friend’s own doing, made it even worse for him to deal with.

“I don’t care how hard it is!! I want to know how to fix it!!” Changbin scorned and silently prayed to the universe to give him the patience to deal with Lee Minho for the rest of the long night he knew they had ahead of them.

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Six

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta: ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

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Van Tassel House - Sam’s Room

Sam is startled awake, frightened and sweating. He lies in bed staring at the ceiling wrapped in the darkness of the night. There’s a candle flickering beside the bed almost completely burned down to the chamberstick and the smell of sweet salve, it’s a tell-tale sign. Dean must’ve dressed his head wound. He gingerly touches his forehead, wincing when he gets close to the gash and shakes sleep away.

It’s dark outside the window. The fall from the horse knocked him for a loop but now he’s able-bodied and not sure he’ll be able to sleep any more. He gets up, dresses and heads out to explore the house at night.

Entering the kitchen, he sets his lantern on the table and sits down to open his father’s ledger. It’s only as he settles in that he notices a faint light coming from down the hall.-

Most nights you retreat to the sewing room. There’s no one about the house at this hour and your bedroom can often feel like a prison. So after everyone is asleep you sit by the fire and read until the early hours of the morning.

You don’t hear Sam approaching, he’s quiet as a mouse until the door creaks open and you nearly jump out of your skin. For a moment you think it’s your stepmother, only to be met with the face of the handsome Constable.

Slapping the book closed and tucking it in beside you in the chair, you sit at attention, watching him inch inside the door. “You scared me nearly half to death.”“Pardon my intrusion. I saw a light.” He smiles softly, a wonderful, gentle smile you wouldn’t expect from such a beast of a man.

“It is no intrusion. I come here to read when sleep eludes me.” You can’t help but feel a thrill as he steps closer. “Will you sit with me, Constable Winchester?”

You pat the sofa beside you, watching as he bites his bottom lip. He bows his head in confirmation, then he takes a seat.

“How would your fiance’ feel about you being alone with me?” Sam asks, awaiting the answer with bated breath. He cannot deny his interest in you, especially to himself.

“I believe I told you Brom had proposed, not that I ever accepted.” Looking him over you scoot to the side, making more room. “I would expect more attention to detail from a man of the law, Constable.”“You must call me Sam,” he offers, leaning close to get a better view of the volume you hid away. “You come here to read books which you must hide?” he grins, tilting his head to read the spine of the book in question. “The Knights of the Round Table...isn’t that for children?”“Not everything is as it appears.” You pick up the large book, taking another, smaller volume from inside. “It was my mother’s book. My father frowned at them when they were hers, he would frown at me now. He believes tales of romance caused the brain fever that killed my mother. She died two years ago come midwinter.”Sam nods, “I am very sorry. I saw it written in the front of the family bible.”“The nurse who cared for her during her sickness is the new Lady Van Tassel.”“There was something else too.” Sam can’t stop the investigator inside him. “Why did no one think to mention that Van Garretts are kit and kin to the Van Tassels?”

“Why because there is hardly a household in Sleepy Hollow that is not connected to every other by blood or marriage. I have more cousins than fingers and toes to count them on.” That thought seems to amuse him, cheeks rounding, dimples appearing. “What?”

“Dean is all the family I have the world.” He looks up, his eyes lingering for a moment too long.

A cock crows outside, dawn is coming soon.

“This land was Van Garrett Land, given to my father when I was in swaddling clothes,” you continue, eager to find any reason to keep him with you. Enjoying this sweet moment of privacy.“Given by the dead Van Garrett?” he inquires.“Yes,” you nod. “The Van Garretts were the richest family around these parts even then. When my father brought us to Sleepy Hollow, Van Garrett set him up with an acre, a broken-down cottage, and a dozen Van Garrett hens. My father prospered and built us a new house. I owe my happiness to him. I remember living poor in the cottage. Would you like to see it? I could take you there.”“Yes. I would like to see where you were as poor as I am.” He grins, unnaturally handsome and you want nothing more than to throw yourself at him.

Sam stands to leave and you stand too, revealing the book you had been reading. You give it a final look before handing it to him.

“Take this. It is my gift to you, Sam.”He carefully takes it from you, big hands curling around the spine as he reads the title: A Compendium of Spells, Charms, and Devices of the Spirit World.“I am grateful for the gift, but perhaps you should keep it. I have no use for it.” He steps closer to hand it back.“Are you so certain of everything?” You look at him, purposely holding his stare.

He inspects it, opening the cover and flipping to the back. There’s your name but in different handwriting is also the name Elizabeth Van Tassel.

“This was your mother’s?” He looks up, surprised.

“Keep it close to your heart.” You inch closer, nearer than you should be. “It is sure protection against harm.”His eyes narrow, looking from you to the book. “Are you so certain of everything?”“Almost always…” you whisper, tiling your head toward him like a plant hungry for the sun.

His lips meet yours in a single, longing kiss as his hand curls around your arm. He lingers for a fleeting moment, nuzzling his nose into your cheek before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “I should go. It’s almost dawn and the staff will be waking. Being caught together as day breaks would certainly stir rumors.”

“I’ve never cared what people say about me.” You swim in the feeling of the kiss as he backs away.

“I will see you soon, Y/N.”

Sleepy Hollow Farmland

You and Sam make a pretty picture on horseback, riding slowly toward the ruins of the cottage you lived in as a child.

“I saw the photos on your desk,” you mention casually, watching him ride beside you. “Are they your family?”

“Yes, people I have lost.” He offers you a forced smile, hand tightening around the reigns. “My parents and someone I cared for.”

“A lost love?” you ask gently and he nods. “Did you lose her recently?”

“No, it was ten years ago now. But if I’m honest there are days when it feels as if no time has passed at all.”

“The heart heals slowly. There are days when I forget my mother is gone. Just this morning I had a fleeting thought. I wanted to tell her how excited I was to bring you here, only to remember that she is gone.”

“I know those moments as well.” He slows his horse as you approach the cottage. There’s almost nothing left but the hearth and part of a crumbling chimney.

Sam dismounts, turning to offer you a hand and help you off your horse. There’s a thrill at the feeling of his hands on yours and you’re about to let go when you notice little scars on his palm. You take his hand between your own, running your thumbs over the little dimples.

“These are strange,” you look up to him. “What are they?” “I wish I knew. I’ve had them since I can remember.”

You inspect him for a moment longer, before taking his hand into yours and leading him into the ruins of the cottage.Sam's attention is caught by a red cardinal on a branch, much like the bird he had in New York. He reflects a moment, then turns to watch you crouching by the hearth. You look back at him, threading the stem of a flower into your hair.“I used to play by this hearth. It was my first drawing school and my mother was my teacher.”Unwittingly, you’re mimicking Sam's dream. You pick up a twig and start drawing on the hearthstone, just as his mother did.His blood runs cold but you’re unaware of the effect it’s having on him. Then he notices the few small wildflowers growing in the old fireplace and feels short of breath, leaning against the stones for support.“Oh, look! I'd forgotten this.” You smile. “See, carved into the fire-back, the Archer.” Using your fingers you clean off the dirt around a simple carving of a man with a Bow and Arrow. “This was from long before we lived here.” You look to Sam, who’s pale as a ghost. “Are you alright?”He nods but says nothing. You’re about to press him when you spot the cardinal too.

“Look there!” you point. “They are my favorite. I would love to have a tame one, but I wouldn't have the heart to cage him.“Then I have something for you.” Sam unslings his satchel, watching your face light up. You’re too beautiful and vibrant a creature to be stuck in a dark place like Sleepy Hollow.

It’s a paper disk with a red bird on one side and an empty cage on the other. Both ends of the disk are pierced by a looped string so that the disk can spin and twist. It was his mother’s gift to him many years ago.

“Come here, let me show you.” He steps behind you, indulging as he presses his chest into your back, arms reaching around your waist. You hum to life at the sensation of his large body curled over yours.

“A cardinal on one side, and an empty cage on the other.” You watch with bated breath as he spins the disk. “And now…”Once he moves it fast enough the bird appears to be inside the cage. You’re thrilled and excited, tilting back to look up at him. “You can do magic! Teach me!”“It is not magic. It’s optics,” he chuckles, lowering his mouth to the side of your head, he’s close enough you can feel his breath on your temple. Sam gives you the toy and shows you how to spin it.“Separate pictures which become one when the picture spins. Like the truth which I must spin here.”He steps away, shifting to the side and watching while you spin the disk, the bird appears in the cage. “I may keep it?”

“Of course.” He confirms. “I’d give you anything you asked for to see you smile like this.”

His words send a flush to your cheeks and the disk in your hands is momentarily forgotten as you gaze at the handsome man before you.

“Anything?” you ask coyly.

“Anything.” His stare is unyielding, eyes fixed on yours.

“Another kiss?” you inquire, only to have him swooping down to pull you into his arms and his mouth close over your own. There’s a desperate passion that was not there this morning. This kiss stokes a fire in your belly, fanning the flame that his touch sparked in the sewing room.

You moan softly into his mouth, only to have him take advantage as his tongue slides past your lips, gliding, plunging, delving deeper and deeper until you’re breathless.

Before you know what’s happening his hand is on your stomach, pushing you back until you’re flush with the hearth, trapped between cold stone and the heat of his body. He pulls away with a pop, only to move down your jaw, drawing a breathless mewl from your lungs as he nips and sucks at the skin of your neck.

“Touch me,” you pant, fisting your hands in his hair.

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s wanted to kiss you, to ravage every inch of you, since the first moment he saw you. It’s a desire that’s only grown with time. He groans against the hot, sweating skin in the crook of your neck as his hand finds its way under your dress.

When his knuckles meet the soft skin of your thighs you gasp in response, pressing forward into his touch. Two fingers brush over the thatch of hair at your sex, scooping forward until he finds warm, wet flesh. You must want him as much as he desires you because you’re thoroughly slick.

“Sam,” you moan, spurring him on as those fingers thrust upward into the tightness of your channel. His thumb goes in search of your delicate pearl, sliding back and forth until you nearly squeal, two hands grabbing at his back confirming he’s found his target.

You can feel him inside you, two thick fingers thrusting in and out as he rubs your bud, bringing a wash of pleasure and wanton lust over every inch of you. You can also hear it, the sound of your sex taking his fingers and then the sensation of his mouth biting across the swell of your breasts.

If Sam had any less self-control he’d throw you to the ground and rip this ridiculous dress right off you. He’d fuck you here in the dirt, but he won’t. A woman as sweet as you deserves things like a bed and mattress.

He can feel it when you cum. You whimper, desperate cunt tightening around his knuckles, little sucking clenches that draw him deeper until you’re boneless in his grasp.

He pulls his hand from between your legs, sullied fingers on your throat as he hooks both hands under your jaw and kisses you again and again, swallowing every gasp and sigh until you’re lost in his mouth and his touch.

You spend the better part of the morning enthralled with each other, gentle touches and passionate kisses until the sun rises high overhead and you have no choice but to return home.