Catching Comets [original prompt]
Title: Catching Comets
Prompt: original prompt
Length: ~2K words
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: blood/gore, violence
Summary: Kris is a bounty hunter who meets a very intriguing doctor. Also there's magic involved.
Notes: this is actually a lot longer, but since i’ve been super busy and couldn’t finish on time i just took this part of the fic out and placed it here as a short standalone. i plan to finish it in the summer, so look forward to it please~ ^^
Kris carries Joonmyeon in his arms, heart thudding rapidly as blood seeps through his clothes. Joonmyeon’s skin is so, so pale, his lips blue from the blood loss and Kris has no idea how much time is left before he loses his best friend. His grip tightens as he breaks into a run, the house he was searching for now in sight. It’s shabby looking from the distance but there is no mistaking the large cross on the front door, the symbol of the doctor that the villagers nearby had spoken of, and Kris is willing to take anything he gets.
Despite the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he can still feel his body aching from the blows he’d taken earlier, the gash across his shoulder blades cutting through his wing tattoos and rendering him flightless. It was strange, using his feet, when he’d always flown everywhere that he needed to go, but Joonmyeon needed him more than the exhaustion that threatened to make Kris fall over.
Zitao was at his heels, sobbing quietly into his healthy arm, the other one dangling uselessly at his side as they rush as fast they can. The two of them needed a doctor as well, but Joonmyeon had been the one to take three clean stabs to the chest. Kris makes the mistake of glancing down at Joonmyeon and a wave of dread nearly overwhelms him at the amount of blood drenching the smaller man’s clothes. He’s not even sure if the younger is breathing anymore, the rise and fall of his chest unintelligible.
“Hold on, Joonmyeon,” Kris mutters instead, eyes burning with the urge to cry. “We’re almost there.”
They finally stutter to a halt in front of the door and Zitao pounds his fist against it, threatening to break the rickety old thing with the sheer force of it. “We need a doctor, please help us!” he cries, hitting it again. “Please! Doctor!”
For a second they fear the worst―that the only doctor in the vicinity was not home, or worse, dead―but then the sound of someone stumbling around inside reaches their ears. With godspeed the door swings open to reveal a man dressed in a pale blue robe that reached his knees, fluttering about his nude person as he attempted to tie the sash. The man takes one look at Joonmyeon in Kris’ arms and the surprise in his eyes melts away to urgency.
“Follow me,” murmurs the man, clear blue eyes glittering in the moonlight. They would be distracting if it wasn’t for the rising panic making its home in Kris’ bones. The three injured men shuffle behind the robed one into the cramped home. It’s cluttered inside, all sorts of objects and books stacked all the way to the ceiling. It’s almost like a maze, random piles of things getting in the way, but Kris keeps his eyes on the dark-haired, blue-eyed man as they race through the hallways. They finally get to a room that looks something like a kitchen and Kris lays Joonmyeon down on the table as instructed.
“Step aside,” the man whispers, his voice soft and hushed as he rips open Joonmyeon’s shirt to reveal the wounds. Kris and Zitao press their backs against one of the many large bookshelves covering the walls as they watch with wide eyes as the man presses his hands against the bloody holes in Joonmyeon’s chest, glowing silvery tattoos appearing to lace up his arms as if they’d been switched on, covering his chest and curling around his neck and legs before blooming across his cheeks. His crystal blue eyes start shining so bright that they began emitting light, nearly blinding Kris who could not peel his eyes away from the man―he’d never seen anything like this before, never seen magic so powerful that the air began to vibrate from the sheer amount of vitality surging through it.
The light from the doctor seemed to only get brighter as the seconds ticked by, like a miniature sun rising just for them in the dead of night, the room inversely getting colder and colder until their very breath crystalized into puffs of cloud, sweat like sheets of ice on their bodies. In one final burst of pure power, the room grows dark and the man stumbles onto his feet, panting as he nearly falls over. Kris and Zitao rush to the table to see to him but the man waves him off, gesturing to Joonmyeon instead. The doctor’s entire body is trembling but he uses his robe to wipe away the blood on Joonmyeon’s chest anyway, and to Kris’ astonishment, all that is left of the wounds are three scars the width of two fingers. The smaller man is breathing normally again, the furrow in his brows now smooth with ease, and Kris nearly faints with relief.
He’s about to thank the doctor when the man gestures to Zitao. “You,” he says, smooth voice now a bit coarse around the edges and shaky with exhaustion. “Come.”
“I’m fine―” Zitao protests, but before he say anything more, the man grabs Zitao’s injured arm and yanks at the shoulder, snapping the bone back into its socket and making Zitao scream in a fit of agony. He whimpers but has regained control of his arm, slumping into a seat when the doctor gives him a small smile.
Kris laughs a bit, tensing when the doctor’s clear eyes land on him. “You’re next,” the man says, his smile widening, and Kris strangely begins to feel a bit weak in the knees when he notices the deep dimple on the man’s right cheek. Obviously Kris’ emotions were getting to the best of him, the wave of thankfulness over saving his friend’s life making him a bit drunk on relief.
“You should rest,” Kris says instead, taking a step back when the other advances. He’s concerned about the repercussions of using such strong magic on something that would heal itself overtime, especially after what the doctor had done for Joonmyeon. “You’ve used a lot of magic to save my friend, and it’s more than I could ever ask for. I can heal on my own,” he assures, gesturing to his own wounds.
“I’m not human,” the man replies instead, displaying his shaky pale hands that are slowly regaining color. “My magic doesn’t affect me the same way as it does you. I get tired out but the effect will go away after I rest. Anyway, I can sense the broken incantations on your back and as a doctor I can’t just leave it alone. Please, let me fix them.”
Kris hesitates for another few beats, eyeing the sincerity in the doctor’s expression with interest. It was so rare to see creatures born with magic so willingly help humans, and he wonders just what this man could be, especially when the doctor looks so much like a human already. “Okay,” Kris finally gives in, turning around. He takes off his shirt and winces at the feeling of the partially frozen sweaty cloth running over open wounds, the sting of it making him hiss. “I’m ready.”
He feels small, cold hands brush against his injured flesh, the touch light and fluttery, before feeling heat building underneath his skin as the cuts heal and the tattoos mend. The second the seal was complete again, his wings emerge from his back, dark red in color as they extend to the width of the room. “Ah, so you’re a hybrid,” the doctor mumbles, and Kris can still feel those gentle hands brushing over his wings. “I should have known. You have such handsome wings.”
Embarrassment makes his cheeks heat up for a different reason and Kris barely contains the blush that threatens to fill his face, but he can’t help the way his ears burn. “Thank you,” he manages to get out, words sincere, stretching his wings a bit more before folding them back into his skin. The tattoos on his back kept them from being easy targets when he wasn’t using them, and after nearly losing a wing once in a brush with gangsters, he didn’t want to risk missing something so important to him again. He turns around to face the doctor, whose eyes were still bright when they meet Kris’, his sweet dimple pressing even deeper into his cheek.
“What?” Kris questions when the doctor doesn’t look away, their eyes locked.
“I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself,” the doctor reveals, wiping his bloody hands on his robe before extending the cleaner one. “I’m Yixing, the doctor of this establishment.”
Kris isn’t sure if he should offer his real name, or even respond at all, but there is something truly kind in the corners of Yixing’s mouth and the curves of his eyes. “Kris,” the taller man finally replies, taking the proffered hand and feeling electricity travel up his arm at the contact. He’s not sure how he should feel about that and ignores it instead, noddoing his head towards the two other men. “Joonmyeon is the one passed out on your table, and Zitao is the one about to fall over from exhaustion.”
“Am not!” comes Zitao’s weak and indignant reply, but the other man is already halfway to dreamland, his hand holding onto Joonmyeon’s for dear life.
Yixing chuckles, eyes sparkling. “Well, it is late, and I should probably check up on Joonmyeon’s wounds when he regains consciousness anyway. I don’t mind you all staying the night-I have too many rooms and not enough people to fill them.”
Kris isn’t sure what to say to that, not when his own exhaustion is catching up to his aching bones. He doesn’t realize he hasn’t let go of the doctor’s hand until an entire beat later, retracting it and coughing into his fist. “I can’t impose on you,” he admits, scratching the back of his head, before giving the doctor a curious look. “And aren’t you worried about how we ended up like this? Don’t you think you could be inviting trouble in?”
“You’re absolutely right,” Yixing agrees, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind his left ear before locking his crystal blue eyes onto Kris’ dark ones. “Are you going to cause trouble?” Kris shakes his head negatively in response and Yixing looks satisfied. “Well then, I believe you.”
The taller man isn’t sure if that was a good call on the doctor’s part, but it brings a smile to his face. It’s not everyday you meet someone so trusting and kind. And when Yixing’s dimpled smile returns, wide and unassuming, Kris thinks that perhaps he should remember this place for next time.
Prompt: original prompt
Length: ~2K words
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: blood/gore, violence
Summary: Kris is a bounty hunter who meets a very intriguing doctor. Also there's magic involved.
Notes: this is actually a lot longer, but since i’ve been super busy and couldn’t finish on time i just took this part of the fic out and placed it here as a short standalone. i plan to finish it in the summer, so look forward to it please~ ^^
Kris carries Joonmyeon in his arms, heart thudding rapidly as blood seeps through his clothes. Joonmyeon’s skin is so, so pale, his lips blue from the blood loss and Kris has no idea how much time is left before he loses his best friend. His grip tightens as he breaks into a run, the house he was searching for now in sight. It’s shabby looking from the distance but there is no mistaking the large cross on the front door, the symbol of the doctor that the villagers nearby had spoken of, and Kris is willing to take anything he gets.
Despite the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he can still feel his body aching from the blows he’d taken earlier, the gash across his shoulder blades cutting through his wing tattoos and rendering him flightless. It was strange, using his feet, when he’d always flown everywhere that he needed to go, but Joonmyeon needed him more than the exhaustion that threatened to make Kris fall over.
Zitao was at his heels, sobbing quietly into his healthy arm, the other one dangling uselessly at his side as they rush as fast they can. The two of them needed a doctor as well, but Joonmyeon had been the one to take three clean stabs to the chest. Kris makes the mistake of glancing down at Joonmyeon and a wave of dread nearly overwhelms him at the amount of blood drenching the smaller man’s clothes. He’s not even sure if the younger is breathing anymore, the rise and fall of his chest unintelligible.
“Hold on, Joonmyeon,” Kris mutters instead, eyes burning with the urge to cry. “We’re almost there.”
They finally stutter to a halt in front of the door and Zitao pounds his fist against it, threatening to break the rickety old thing with the sheer force of it. “We need a doctor, please help us!” he cries, hitting it again. “Please! Doctor!”
For a second they fear the worst―that the only doctor in the vicinity was not home, or worse, dead―but then the sound of someone stumbling around inside reaches their ears. With godspeed the door swings open to reveal a man dressed in a pale blue robe that reached his knees, fluttering about his nude person as he attempted to tie the sash. The man takes one look at Joonmyeon in Kris’ arms and the surprise in his eyes melts away to urgency.
“Follow me,” murmurs the man, clear blue eyes glittering in the moonlight. They would be distracting if it wasn’t for the rising panic making its home in Kris’ bones. The three injured men shuffle behind the robed one into the cramped home. It’s cluttered inside, all sorts of objects and books stacked all the way to the ceiling. It’s almost like a maze, random piles of things getting in the way, but Kris keeps his eyes on the dark-haired, blue-eyed man as they race through the hallways. They finally get to a room that looks something like a kitchen and Kris lays Joonmyeon down on the table as instructed.
“Step aside,” the man whispers, his voice soft and hushed as he rips open Joonmyeon’s shirt to reveal the wounds. Kris and Zitao press their backs against one of the many large bookshelves covering the walls as they watch with wide eyes as the man presses his hands against the bloody holes in Joonmyeon’s chest, glowing silvery tattoos appearing to lace up his arms as if they’d been switched on, covering his chest and curling around his neck and legs before blooming across his cheeks. His crystal blue eyes start shining so bright that they began emitting light, nearly blinding Kris who could not peel his eyes away from the man―he’d never seen anything like this before, never seen magic so powerful that the air began to vibrate from the sheer amount of vitality surging through it.
The light from the doctor seemed to only get brighter as the seconds ticked by, like a miniature sun rising just for them in the dead of night, the room inversely getting colder and colder until their very breath crystalized into puffs of cloud, sweat like sheets of ice on their bodies. In one final burst of pure power, the room grows dark and the man stumbles onto his feet, panting as he nearly falls over. Kris and Zitao rush to the table to see to him but the man waves him off, gesturing to Joonmyeon instead. The doctor’s entire body is trembling but he uses his robe to wipe away the blood on Joonmyeon’s chest anyway, and to Kris’ astonishment, all that is left of the wounds are three scars the width of two fingers. The smaller man is breathing normally again, the furrow in his brows now smooth with ease, and Kris nearly faints with relief.
He’s about to thank the doctor when the man gestures to Zitao. “You,” he says, smooth voice now a bit coarse around the edges and shaky with exhaustion. “Come.”
“I’m fine―” Zitao protests, but before he say anything more, the man grabs Zitao’s injured arm and yanks at the shoulder, snapping the bone back into its socket and making Zitao scream in a fit of agony. He whimpers but has regained control of his arm, slumping into a seat when the doctor gives him a small smile.
Kris laughs a bit, tensing when the doctor’s clear eyes land on him. “You’re next,” the man says, his smile widening, and Kris strangely begins to feel a bit weak in the knees when he notices the deep dimple on the man’s right cheek. Obviously Kris’ emotions were getting to the best of him, the wave of thankfulness over saving his friend’s life making him a bit drunk on relief.
“You should rest,” Kris says instead, taking a step back when the other advances. He’s concerned about the repercussions of using such strong magic on something that would heal itself overtime, especially after what the doctor had done for Joonmyeon. “You’ve used a lot of magic to save my friend, and it’s more than I could ever ask for. I can heal on my own,” he assures, gesturing to his own wounds.
“I’m not human,” the man replies instead, displaying his shaky pale hands that are slowly regaining color. “My magic doesn’t affect me the same way as it does you. I get tired out but the effect will go away after I rest. Anyway, I can sense the broken incantations on your back and as a doctor I can’t just leave it alone. Please, let me fix them.”
Kris hesitates for another few beats, eyeing the sincerity in the doctor’s expression with interest. It was so rare to see creatures born with magic so willingly help humans, and he wonders just what this man could be, especially when the doctor looks so much like a human already. “Okay,” Kris finally gives in, turning around. He takes off his shirt and winces at the feeling of the partially frozen sweaty cloth running over open wounds, the sting of it making him hiss. “I’m ready.”
He feels small, cold hands brush against his injured flesh, the touch light and fluttery, before feeling heat building underneath his skin as the cuts heal and the tattoos mend. The second the seal was complete again, his wings emerge from his back, dark red in color as they extend to the width of the room. “Ah, so you’re a hybrid,” the doctor mumbles, and Kris can still feel those gentle hands brushing over his wings. “I should have known. You have such handsome wings.”
Embarrassment makes his cheeks heat up for a different reason and Kris barely contains the blush that threatens to fill his face, but he can’t help the way his ears burn. “Thank you,” he manages to get out, words sincere, stretching his wings a bit more before folding them back into his skin. The tattoos on his back kept them from being easy targets when he wasn’t using them, and after nearly losing a wing once in a brush with gangsters, he didn’t want to risk missing something so important to him again. He turns around to face the doctor, whose eyes were still bright when they meet Kris’, his sweet dimple pressing even deeper into his cheek.
“What?” Kris questions when the doctor doesn’t look away, their eyes locked.
“I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself,” the doctor reveals, wiping his bloody hands on his robe before extending the cleaner one. “I’m Yixing, the doctor of this establishment.”
Kris isn’t sure if he should offer his real name, or even respond at all, but there is something truly kind in the corners of Yixing’s mouth and the curves of his eyes. “Kris,” the taller man finally replies, taking the proffered hand and feeling electricity travel up his arm at the contact. He’s not sure how he should feel about that and ignores it instead, noddoing his head towards the two other men. “Joonmyeon is the one passed out on your table, and Zitao is the one about to fall over from exhaustion.”
“Am not!” comes Zitao’s weak and indignant reply, but the other man is already halfway to dreamland, his hand holding onto Joonmyeon’s for dear life.
Yixing chuckles, eyes sparkling. “Well, it is late, and I should probably check up on Joonmyeon’s wounds when he regains consciousness anyway. I don’t mind you all staying the night-I have too many rooms and not enough people to fill them.”
Kris isn’t sure what to say to that, not when his own exhaustion is catching up to his aching bones. He doesn’t realize he hasn’t let go of the doctor’s hand until an entire beat later, retracting it and coughing into his fist. “I can’t impose on you,” he admits, scratching the back of his head, before giving the doctor a curious look. “And aren’t you worried about how we ended up like this? Don’t you think you could be inviting trouble in?”
“You’re absolutely right,” Yixing agrees, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind his left ear before locking his crystal blue eyes onto Kris’ dark ones. “Are you going to cause trouble?” Kris shakes his head negatively in response and Yixing looks satisfied. “Well then, I believe you.”
The taller man isn’t sure if that was a good call on the doctor’s part, but it brings a smile to his face. It’s not everyday you meet someone so trusting and kind. And when Yixing’s dimpled smile returns, wide and unassuming, Kris thinks that perhaps he should remember this place for next time.