these are the colors of the robes for those wondering

Bound 3/3

→ Vampire!Reader x Baekhyun

→ After the Vampire Empress saved the young man’s life, he was honor-bound to repay the favor.

→ Warnings: Smut.

Word count: 2,2K


Baekhyun eyes flutter open at the constant sound of water dripping onto the cobblestone outside. He slowly sits up among the silken sheets and pillows only to be met with a white covered landscape beyond the windows of the bedroom chamber. He gasps in surprise and also pain before leaping out of the bed, sheets not letting go of his ankles and threatening to trip him. 

As he reaches the tall windows of what he notices is the empress’ chambers, he watches as the snow falls slowly and adds onto the moderately thick layer already laying on the ground. He also notices this stinging pain in the right side of neck. His fingers travel over the troubled area and discovers two small bumps in the skin that are barely there. His eyes focus on his reflection in the tinted glass to try to make out if there was a bruise; anything on the skin. But the reflection is too weak to see anything. Still, the pain lingers and stings.

Brushing it off for now, he stands there, watching the snow in the morning light for at least half an hour, if not more, before the door of the chambers is knocked on. Baekhyun yelps but keeps still. It’s knocked one more time and he answers only when the smell of breakfast reaches his nostrils from under the dark wood that was the door.

“Come in.”

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Something about moonlight

A/n: okay this one was a bit of stretch, but since eventually SasuHina will get together, I figure Hanabi’s mere presence fulfills the Day 7:In-Laws prompt. Also in which we learn why Hinata stole the scroll. Sort of.

Good evening Sasuke-san. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hanabi says politely, kneeling across the low table from him. The steam of their tea makes her pale features ghostly, but her eyes are still shrewd and amused as he growls his irritation.

“You’re not the one I was looking for.”

“Then who was this Lady Hyuuga you were asking for?”

“Hinata…” He says her name like it’s disease, with so much distaste, he can feel the girl’s chakra rise.

Her eyes might even be paler than Hinata’s. They glint fiercely in the bright lighting of the receiving room, and Sasuke finds himself just a tiny bit sympathetic for the poor soul who would be Hinata’s suitor.

Hanabi smooths down the folds of her cream colored kimono with practiced elegance. Something about it strikes him as false. He can see her inexperience in the tightness of her jaw, the constant movement of her fingers as she traces the rim of her cup.

She glances up at him, eyes cutting through the steam.

“What do you want with my sister, Uchiha?”

Sasuke finds himself mildly amused, and while he can see why Hinata would do anything to protect her sister, he’s having a hard time reconciling this fierce young clan leader with someone who needed protection.

He wonders what sort of clan head Hinata would have been, with colored cheeks and a slim neck peeking out from those cream robes. It doesn’t matter.

Hinata still has the scroll, and he’s bought her as much time as he can. The librarian is starting to get suspicious.

“She borrowed something from me. I need to get it back.”

Hanabi stares at him for a long time. He can see the sheen of her slightly bulging veins as she lets her silvery chakra flow and checks him for signs of lying.

His heart rate is steady. His breaths are normal. He’s calm in the face of her scrutiny and with a sigh, she shuts her eyes and nods.

“I’ll call for her. Wait here, she’ll come soon.”

And with a delicate wave of her hand, she rises and seems to float out of the room, closing the sliding door behind her with some measure of force.

He stares at the painted screen, admiring the white of the cranes that seem to nearly fly from the lake. Their heads are crowned with red and he feels a sharp sense of melancholy.

There’s sadness here. He’s not entirely sure why, but it hangs over this home like a rain cloud. He finds himself curious. Perhaps he can ask Hinata about it.

She’d thought her entire world had shattered again on that one clear night. A night where the stars had winked out clearly with a cold light. And then she’d thought that a rebirth was incoming, a hope blooming in her chest until she felt she was choking on flowers.

She’d thought, she’d wished, she’d cemented her pathway…until stagnancy settled in and wilted her hopes to nothing. Hanabi keeps those same hollow eyes trained on her duties as clan head, unknowing. Her father holds the same weight of secrecy in him as Hinata does.

She’s trying. Trying hard to unravel the lock mechanism that keeps him and herself strained and sad.

This had all been a month after the war. She’d raged. She’d swept aside any of her father’s assurances as she broke down sobbing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Hiashi hadn’t explained that.

“Hinata…daughter…let me take care of this…I’ll find a way. I’ll work with Lady Tsunade…you just…concentrate on finding your place in this world.” His words were like scissors, frigid, merciful. Snip, snip he cut away her bonds to her station and set her free.

She resents him for that.

For the way that she was dismissed from that lonely hospital room…away from the moonlight cradling a thin figure who was hooked up to too many machines, their dark beautiful hair splayed out all over the bed.

She knew that person wouldn’t have wanted her to linger. So after she had wept, after she had decided that her mind counted this person lost but her heart did not, she had gathered herself up and attempted to find her place.

But she was forever bounding to places where the village wanted her to be. It seemed that even if her clan had set her to meandering, Konoha had its own plans for her. Konoha was growing and recovering. It would not wait for a girl forever bouncing on a trampoline.

She tries her best by choosing her own assignments, by trying out new things and giving herself new experiences. But she hasn’t let her father cut her loose completely. She’s clinging onto those fraying threads with dying hope while she waits for some sort of end to this whole thing.

It’s the waiting that kills her. It’s the waiting that prompts her to steal a precious scroll from the library. And she hadn’t thought she’d be able to keep it this long, she’s already made some headway. But there’s too much here to copy of her own accord.

She feels a little guilty for blackmailing Sasuke like she had, but if she could unravel the Caged Bird Seal, it would all be worth it. She might even be able to save the thin, comatose person sleeping in lonely moonlight and sunlight. But the days have worn on. It’s been nearly half a year.

She should count herself lucky, but she’s still grieving.

And she needs help. She doesn’t want to arouse suspicion of what she’s attempting, but maybe all her questions to Sakura might already be too much of a give away.

She trusts Haruno. She trusts her team…she doesn’t trust herself…to have the ability to see this through.

She needs the Sharingan for that.

And by happenstance or by fate, Sasuke is at her door today. She’s sent Hanabi to distract him for a bit, but she needs to lay out what her request will be.

She chances a brief glance at one of the many picture frames on her nightstand. She needs to swallow her doubts and say her wish.

So with one last longing look at the group of picture frames on her desk, edged by stacks of paper and the scroll. She smiles softly at the candid photo and Then she heads out to meet her guest.

She catches him doodling. He’s taken up one of the extra pens she brought out, and while she overlooks the sections she’s interested in, he’s already covered a napkin with perfect little Uchiha fans. The style is familiar, and it reminds her of the personalized stationery his shopping list had been on.

She smiles at him, setting aside the scroll for now.

“You’re very good at that.”

He stops and looks up at her, one brow raised to silently ask what she means by that.

She nods towards his designs, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“They all look exactly the same. They’re perfect. Did you copy the pattern from your stationery?”

Sasuke blinks slowly, bemused at her interest in something so simple.

“I made that too. It helps to relieve stress.” He waves a hand over his eyes. “The Sharingan makes it easier.”

“Ah…I see.” She frowns a bit. “Do you remember learning something about the sharingan being descended from the Byakugan?”

He grunts, unsure of where she’s going with this. He’s starting to feel wary of her line of thought, especially when her white eyes spring up to meet his with such excitement, he feels his heart leap up into his throat.

“Do you think…I could borrow your eyes for bit?”

“Aren’t you already borrowing them? I’ll copy down whatever you need me to. I already agreed.”

She shakes her head vehemently, bringing up a few trembling figures to trace over her temples and her eyes.

“I want to see what it looks like when you activate it? You have the Rinnegan too, so I want to see if I can decipher what chakra pathways our types of eyes activate!” She places her hands happily on the table, leaning forward until her face is too close for his comfort.

He could drown in that quicksilver, could lose himself in those eyes of hers. He leans away, crossing his arms over his chest until she gets the hint.

She looks apologetic. Very much so as she fists her hands in the folds of her brown skirt.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

For some reason, she looks like she’s collapsing under the gravity of her own eyes, as if they had their own lunar gravity and they were slowly pulling her into herself.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He remarks, and wonders if he’s made a mistake when she gasps and nearly leaps over the table to clasp his hands in hers.

“Thank you. Thank you so much! I promise I won’t bother you anymore. You won’t have to see my face ever again after this.” She tells him earnestly.

He believes her. And somehow, the thought of never seeing her again makes him feel queasy.

He heads back home that day. The scroll safely in his possession to return tomorrow to the library.

His face still feels strange. Foreign to him. Even when he looks in the mirror and the same sullen expression as always stares back at a him, he can feel the lingering brushes of her fingertips. Can feel the pathways she’d traced while she examined his active Sharingan with her Byakugan.

He looks back at her stolen umbrella near his door. It stands guard over the assurance that he will see her in the future.

Somehow, this also makes him queasy. He tells himself it’s probably just the strange tea blend he’d been served and shuts up the little nagging bits of his memory that won’t let him forget the feeling of her gravity, slowly…slowly pulling him into her orbit.

For @penpenheart. :)

anonymous asked:

Continuing vampire obiwan who has little requirement for sleep starts to find odd hobbies to do during the night due to his species sleep cycle.

He’s awake more then he sleeps most nights now. Its a thing of his people, the body does not need rest like other humanoids, especially not as long full humans.

It can be boring.

Obi-Wan finds himself bored many nights when his course work is completed and there is no one to spar with because they are out on missions or sleeping themselves, taking care of their needs. So he finds things to do.

The first month he does responsible things, he cleans the rooms he can, takes care of his master when his insomnia hits, does katas and prepares for the day, when he has lessons and others he can talk to.

That eventually becomes a monotone and he starts fixing bots who are in need of it. Not that he is an expert in droid maintenance but minor things are good, fix a joint, send them of to proper repairs. It gets boring too. And then he’s banned from doing such things because apparently, taping two droids together so they float around with a knife between them to shiv people is not proper. Obi-Wan does not that Qui-Gon can’t quite look at the council as this reprimand is given and his shoulders are shaking. He’s laughing Obi-Wan realized and is glad someone else found it as funny as he did.

The third month he takes up model ship making. He starts with minor ships and builds up until he has one that’s about the size of himself laying down standing in the livingroom. Qui-Gon spends an hour staring at it in mute shock because he’s certain that was not there when he went to bed. The next day is no better because now it FLIES. Obi-Wan has given the ship a functioning motor. Obi-Wan is banned from model ships when the model ship somehow escapes into hyperdrive from the temple. There is much confusion how this was achieved.

The fourth months heralds calm. Obi-Wan takes up cooking and baking. The smells start of a bit like moldy socks and becomes divine temptations. Delicate little bites of puffed pastries and smooth mousses. Artfully created plates of sauce and meat and deliciousness. He does not get banned from either of these activities and Qui-Gon (and those he invites for dinner or lunch), enjoys the perk. Obi-Wan’s interest dabs of at the end of the sixth month.

The sixth month is full of different saber practices, Obi-Wan is learning EVERY branch, not just Ataruu but everything he can get his hands on, every master he can convince to teach him something. He excels in several, Obi-Wan is adaptable. But he comes to prefer Ataruu and Soresu.

It falls into his daily schedule to to practice the new moves.

The eight month he picks up painting and drawing. Qui-Gon wakes to several flimsi covered in an amateurs doodles that quickly progresses to a defined artist with much time on their hand. Obi-Wan draws animals, plants, people he knows and then moves on to little cartoons. Qui-Gon can’t help but laugh at the one of Yoda and Mace juggling.

The paintings start out the same too, an amateurs work that slowly improves and expands. Planets they visited, people they’ve seen and once the back of what Qui-Gon thinks is a red Zabrak. When asked about it Obi-Wan shrugged and said he’d been dreaming.

Obi-Wan is good but loses interest as the twelfth month hits. He is not a professional artist by then but he is decent and can draw in several styles and paint what is on his mind, some of his robes have paint splotches on it still and his fingers are stained with color through those months.

He takes up juggling after that. It only lasts a week before he can do it perfectly.

Archery takes a month to learn and perfect. Obi-Wan is a perfectionist with such skills. Tells his master it may be useful for some mission though he does not know that for sure.

And then he circles through his hobbies as he can, though not the ones he are banned from. Obi-Wan absently wonders while sucking dry a bag of replacement blood, if the droids were ever unstuck from each other or if they continued to shiv people.

Sucker Punches Are for Suckers: Part 2

Kainora Week: Day 2 - Wonder

Summary: “…food fights in the kitchen at 2 am…”

Notes: This has no plot whatsoever. I just wanted them to have a food fight.

| for tophbeithong because she was incredibly sweet in the tags of my last kainora fic |

[Part 2/?: Purple Tongues]

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“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you couldn’t bend?”

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