#We go through the sewers loosing people as we go along | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edens-breathless-melodies-moved · 4 years

Text

words: 4k

pairing: suna r. x f!reader

prompt: cock warming

warnings: cock warming, edging, exactly one (1) spank, reader being a lowkey brat, suna lowkey being a dick (nothing new here, folks)

summary: suna never realized just how tiring it was to play for a division one team. giving his hundred and twenty percent everyday really wore him down, and all he wanted was to relax. so what better way to do that than by surrounding himself with you?

exhausted could not even begin to describe how tired suna was. the amount of fatigue he felt as he trudged through the door to your shared home wasn’t even measurable, and you could feel it emanating from his weary body the moment he stepped through the door.

you frowned softly at your boyfriend’s run down figure, narrow eyes looking downright zombie-ish as he slouched into the living room.

a weak “i’m home” barely registered in your ears, and your heart ached for him, knowing how tiring practice could be.

you had been in the kitchen just finishing up dinner when you heard the sound of keys being entered into the lock.

you were excited to see your boyfriend after being alone for a majority of the day, and it was understandable that you practically launched out of the kitchen to greet him when he entered.

recently he’s been spending more and more time at practice as one of his big games drew closer, and you can’t really blame him for wanting to perfect everything before the game. you adored how serious he takes the sport.

but if you’re being honest with yourself, you have been feeling rather needy lately, and suna spending so much time away wasn’t helping.

suna would disappear from your shared bed just as the sun was rising, pressing a chaste but loving kiss against your sleepy forehead before whispering he’ll be back.

and sometimes he wouldn’t arrive back home until well after dark, barely having enough energy to pull you to his chest before drifting off, exhausted from the day’s training.

you know he feels bad for not being able to spend as much time with you lately, and although you brushed it off by saying you didn’t mind, he wanted to make it up to you.

so when you awoke that morning to find that suna had already left, you felt bummed that you missed his good morning kiss until you checked your phone.

you saw a text from him sent at nearly 06:30 in the morning, about two hours earlier than when he’d normally leave for practice.

sunarin 🐱 💦 06:28 - i convinced coach to start practice a little earlier so me nd the rest of the team could have a early night in. i love you dork, see u when i get home

the excited screech you let out would’ve woken up the neighbors if you had any around you, and you could barely contain your glee at having your sleepy eyes boyfriend home early for once.

the rest of the day was a blur as you rushed around your cozy home tidying up and preparing dinner, different scenarios running through your head about what you two were gonna do when he finally got home.

your thighs clenched slightly at the thought of finally have suna all to yourself in the bedroom, and your need for him to come home was reaching an all time high. ‘finally, we can do more than just a quick kiss…’

but the moment those usually sharp pale yellow eyes locked tiredly with yours, dull and exhausted, it was understandable that you felt a twinge of disappointment and frustration as you silently resigned yourself to a quiet and early night in.

deep down you knew it wasn’t his fault that his coach drained them until they were dry, so you swallowed your disappointment the moment you felt it.

you could always have him to yourself another night.

although you were practically a master at hiding your true emotions to anyone, slapping on a smile and kind eyes that could fool even the toughest detective, suna rintarou was not just anyone.

he could see the traces of disappointment and sexual frustration lurking behind your warm eyes as you offered him a soothing and genuine smile, rushing over to grab his sports bag to put away.

he watched the way you gazed at him with adoration as you gave him a sweet kiss on his check before going to hang his bag in the room, telling him to relax and that you’d bring him dinner in a sec.

you may convince everyone and even yourself, but you couldn’t get past him.

after being by your side for nearly twenty years, suna could confidently say that he was good at reading you, even the you that you tried to hide away.

~~~~

you and suna rintarou were a classic case of childhood best friends to lovers. your mothers were practically attached at the hips since their childhood, so it only made sense for the two of you to be inseparable since birth.

thankfully, you guys ended up getting along with each other, and you two became attached at the hips as well just like your mothers, maybe even more so.

watching the two of you interact with one another as you grew up was always an amusing sight to your cooing parents who were secretly hoping you two would end up together when you were older.

suna and you complimented each other unknowingly. he was always the ice to your fire, the moon to your sun; always there to bring counter you whenever your emotions got the best of you.

while you both were generally well behaved and good children, your mannerisms couldn’t be more unlike each other if you tried.

where suna was usually an indifferent and relaxed child, going with the flow and never starting a fuss, you were always known to be a bit of a crybaby, your emotions overruling your logic sometimes.

at age seven, when your parents had told the two of you that you couldn’t go to the park when you asked because the sun was getting ready to set and it was getting late out, they already knew what was going to happen.

your cute little bottom lip would jut out and begin to quiver and your eyes would begin to tear up, and both sets of parents just sighed as they prepared to deal with another one of your rare cases of bratiness.

so imagine their surprise when little suna, always so passive and indifferent, came up to your trembling form and wrapped his arms around you in a loose hug.

he was muttering how the two of you could go to the park tomorrow as he continued hugging you, pale eyes narrowed softly as he calmed you down with his words.

both parents watched in shock at how quickly suna was able to bring you down from your impending tantrum with just a hug and a couple of choice sentences.

your mothers choked on their spit while your fathers stifled their laughs when they heard suna mumble out “and please don’t cry, you always get snot everywhere.”

from that day forward, suna became your pacifier. whenever things were about to turn ugly and your lip began to tremble or your eyes had that fire in them, it was always suna who swooped in and brought you back down to earth.

(as the two of you got older, his choice of words to calm you down evolved as well, so don’t worry)

the two of you never left each other’s sides all throughout elementary school, and even when most kids branch off in middle school, especially a girl/boy duo, the two of you yet again shocked your parents by sticking through.

this continued on into high school as well, and both of you continued to hide your growing feelings for one another, never revealing them until your second year at inarizaki high.

suna was quick to convince you to become the team’s manager when he joined the boys volleyball club, and the team loved your sweet but feisty and sarcastic attitude.

when growing up with suna rintarou as your best friend, you had to have some backbone to combat his dry humor and biting teases.

the members of the club adored you, some a little more than others.

miya atsumu had a gift for pisisng people off whether he realized it or not, and deciding that causally flirting with the middle blocker’s best friend was totally okay. absolutely nothing could go wrong, right?

oh, you poor, piss haired sewer rat.

to be fair, looking back on it years later, the two of you should be thanking atsumu for flirting with you that day.

if he hadn’t, then suna may have never realized how much he had fallen for you over the years of being by your side.

the fear suna felt run through him made his heart freeze when he saw the way you blushed when atsumu had whispered something in your ear during a break at practice.

the way his heart clenched when you laughed at one of his jokes, eyes alight and shining brightly made suna realize he didn’t want you looking at anyone like that but him.

although he kinda felt guilty for the bloody nose he gave atsumu when he “accidentally” spiked the ball directly into his face just as he was about to whisper something else in your ear, he never apologized.

and later that evening, as the two of you stood at the entrance to your street leading towards your homes, (you lived across the road from each other), suna kissed you as the sun set, confessing on the spot.

he wasn’t a particularly emotional person, leaving that to you, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes watered slightly from happiness when you just smiled that dazzling smile and kissed him again.

~~~~

now, with both of you at twenty-two years old and happily living together, the only thing left to do was get married, but suna wasn’t trying to rush towards that yet.

that’s how suna knows when you’re hiding something from him. and with the way your eyes subtly linger on his form as he strips to change out of his sweaty clothes and into something comfier, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you want.

luckily for you, suna rintarou decided that being a genius is suddenly overrated.

————————

you sighed in content the moment you settled yourself on suna’s lap, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

you could feel the tension in his body relax at your warm weight, long arms coming to loosely wrap around your waist as he settled deeper into the couch.

suna knew he missed your presence, but he never realized how starved he was of your touch until you slowly began scratching his hair at the top of his neck soothingly, placing gentle kisses to his flesh.

he practically melted into a warm puddle and squeezed you a tad bit tighter, smiling softly at the way you giggled and continued your ministrations.

“i swear rin, if you were a cat you’d be purring right now.” you teased as your fingers never left his hair. all suna did was give a light amused huff, and you both settled into silence.

this was nice. you could be content with just this. having suna in your arms and relaxed against your couch is more than you’ve had in a while, and you tried to convince yourself that it was enough.

but suna could pick up on the way your kisses lingered a little too long against his neck without you realizing what you were doing, the way your thighs twitched gently from your straddled position in his lap.

you were trying so hard to stay still for him, not wanting to be a bother especially after such a tiring practice today, but you just couldn’t help it.

just the thought of his thick and long cock spearing you open had your thighs twitching again, but you made yourself relax as you took in a deep breath, filling your nose with the scent of him.

‘this is enough.’

as you fought to relax yourself and rid the dirty thoughts from your mind, you didn’t realize that your boyfriend had caught on to your mental battle.

he knew what you wanted, and to be honest he wanted to fuck just as badly as you did, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to put out the effort. so instead, another idea came to mind.

“y’know, if you wanted to sit on my cock so badly, you could’ve just told me, (y/n).” suna remarked nonchalantly and you froze in his lap, face burning at being caught while acting needy.

you buried your face deeper into his neck, denying his words. “never said i wanted to sit on your cock, dumbass…” you muttered into his neck, and suna raised a thin eyebrow in disbelief.

now out of all times, you wanted to be a brat?

“oh? so i misinterpreted things?” he mused and he rolled his eyes when you simply nodded into his neck, refusing to admit defeat.

you startled when you felt his large hands begin to move you off his lap, and you whipped your head up to look at him in confusion and concern.

suna leveled your gaze with that same eyebrow raised at you in amusement. “what? i thought you just wanted to just wanted to relax tonight and not sit on my cock?”

you whimpered in embarrassment but suna kept up with his act, wanting to see how long it’d take for you to break and finally beg.

so he continued to push you off of him slowly until you finally caved with a whine, locking yourself firmly on his lap as you gripped his arms in desperation.

a smug smirk curled his lips as he watched you begin to grind against him softly, big doe eyes staring up at him with all the lust and desperation you’ve been holding back for the past week.

“please rin,” you whined, slowly gyrating your hips into his, growing more frantic when you felt his cock rise and press against you through his sweats.

“i wanna be full of your cock so badly, please! i’ve been waiting like a good girl.” you whined, and suna groaned at how wanton you sounded, (s/c) cheeks dusted lightly with your blush.

you nearly cried when suna wordlessly pulled you up and began slipping your shorts and panties down. you eagerly stood up and wiggled out of them.

kicking them somewhere in the living room, you watched with hungry eyes as suna pulled his own sweats and underwear down.

his cock sprang free from its confines, and you began drooling at how hard he was already, fat tip flushed red and leaking precum down the side.

the vein trailing down its side was pulsing angrily with his heartbeat, and you knew he was just as frustrated with the lack of intimacy as you.

already coating your inner thighs with your arousal, you wasted no time situating yourself back in his lap, hovering your twitching entrance over his thick cock.

with firm hands on your waist as you held onto his shoulder, you both choked out moans as you slowly but surely impaled yourself on his cock.

you nearly cried as he stretched your walls apart, relishing in the feeling of being so full again.

as he finally bottomed out, plush tip jamming firmly against your cervix, you stared up at your boyfriend with love and lust swirling in your eyes, desperate to move.

suna hissed at the way you seemed even tighter than he remembered, wet walls clasping around him like velvet.

the urge to thrust into your tight heat until you were screaming his name made him almost feral, and he nearly began bucking his hips up when he remembered how you wanted to play coy and bratty earlier.

so he decided to do the next best thing.

bringing his face close to yours until your lips were barely brushing against one another, suna pulled you into a searing kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist as you eagerly kissed him back.

it was wet and messy with the desperation between the two of you, his tongue wasting no time to slip into your mouth and re-familiarize himself with your flavor.

you moaned into the kiss and tried to lift your hips to start moving, but suna’s grip on you kept you from rising. breaking away from him, you stared at him in confusion, lips wet and shiny.

“rin?” you questioned but your boyfriend simply ignored you, reaching to his side for the remote to the tv before switching it on and randomly clicking on a channel.

you stared at him in disbelief as the sound of guy fieri’s voice came softly from the flatscreen, and suna resisted the urge to smile as he settled back down, wrapping his arms around you again before leaning his chin on your shoulder.

there was no way he was gonna keep you like this, right?

but to your dismay, the longer the two of you sat there, suna’s cock hard and pulsing within your tight walls, the more jittery and whiny you became when he didn’t move.

you were desperate for some sort of friction, anything to ease the tension you felt throbbing in your core, but suna was having no of it.

you tried to wiggle in his arms, whimpering slightly as you jostled his cock within you, his member shifting to rub lightly against your g-spot.

a hiss left suna’s lips when you squirmed around, walls tightening as you desperately tried to get some friction.

a sharp cry left your lips when a heavy palm came cracking down against your ass cheek, halting your movements as you rested your forehead against his clothed chest, whimpering in pain and pleasure.

suna growled lowly into your ear, palm never leaving your stinging flesh as he gripped you tightly.

“now you wanna move?” he scoffed. “i thought you didn’t want my cock in you earlier, hm?”

“but i took it back and asked you for it!” you whined and suna pulled you back to gaze into your eyes.

even though he was your boyfriend, he was your best friend first, and you forgot how mean he could be when teasing you.

“you did, huh?” he scoffed again when you nodded your head rapidly, clenching around him again to try and entice him to move.

“well i’m just giving you what you wanted, baby girl. you wanted to sit on my cock, so you are.” you whimpered in despair when he stared directly into your eyes with a malicious gleam.

“i’m tired from practice and you feel so good around me,” he bucked his hips up into you lightly to emphasize his point, and you moaned wantonly as he hit your g-spot directly.

“so be a good girl for me and keep me warm. can you do that?”

suna smiled when you weakly nodded your head, sniffling quietly as your eyes began to fill with tears. he cooed as a couple drops fell to stream down your cheeks.

“my pretty little crybaby.” he mused as he brought a hand up to wipe your tears away. you let him do as he pleased and sat still for him like a good girl.

your earlier thought of retiring early tonight flashed by you, and you realized just how wrong your assumptions were.

—————————

suna was ninety-five percent sure that if he edged you one more time tonight and didn’t let you cum, he’d be a single man by the morning.

you were a crying, shivering mess in his lap at this point. your tears were soaking the fabric by his chest just as your drooling cunt was soaking the fabric of his sweats.

for hours now, the sun having gone down around the third or fifth time of you nearly reaching your climax, suna has been edging you as you warmed his cock.

eyes never leaving the tv, he would slowly grind against you till you were whining loudly in his ear.

sometimes if he felt you were getting too comfortable, eyes almost slipping shut in exhaustion, he would suddenly thrust harshly into your core, smashing directly into your g-spot before stilling again.

he began to feel particularly bad after holding you over the edge before pulling you away last time. your big (e/c) eyes were red from crying, tears freely flowing down your cheeks.

you were shaking like a leaf in his lap, hiccups jolting you every now and then as you tried to cling onto your fading orgasm as it died back down. but you were his good girl, not once trying to move in his lap.

that didn’t stop you from begging him, however.

in the beginning, suna just toned out your begging, keeping his attention on guy fieri driving around looking for the best diner’s, drive-in’s, and dives.

but when he finally decided to look down at you, your words slowly flowing through his ears again, his heart clenched and his dick throbbed at the sight of you practically destroyed on his lap.

so suna decided to take pity on you and actually began thrusting into you at a consistent pace, his own patience stretched thin at the feeling of your insides pulsing so tightly against him for hours.

but he stopped the moment you shook your head, weak fists coming to beat on his chest in retaliation.

he had to strain his hearing to catch onto your words, but when he did, his heart practically shattered when you were quietly crying on his lap.

“n-no more… i c-can’t t-take it!” you whimpered, and suna wrapped his arms securely around your form, whispering sweet praises into your hair as he gently rocked you back and forth. “y-you’re just g-gonna stop again...”

“it’s okay pretty girl, shh. don’t cry.” he murmured to you as you relaxed in his arms, no longer shaking but tears still dripping down your cheeks.

“i’m not gonna tease you anymore, you’ve been so good for me.” he whispered into your hair.

“can i make you feel good, (y/n)?” he asked you calmly, and he smiled when you shyly nodded your head.

“please make me feel good, rinrin. i missed you.” you sounded so small and sweet in his arms, so suna decided to finally give you what you’ve been craving for.

keeping his arms locked around your waist, he hooked his chin on your shoulder as he began to piston his hips into yours, cock pumping into you at a steady pace as he began to push you towards your orgasm for the last time.

you wailed as you finally received the constant pressure of his cock filling your insides, hitting your g-spot with deadly accuracy as you tipped dangerously close to the edge.

you both weren’t gonna last long and suna knew that, so he winded his hand down between your bodies and connected his fingers with your aching clit.

rubbing firm circles into your sensitive nub, suna brought you right to the cliff, and this time, he allowed you to fall over.

you came on his cock with a silent cry, eyes wide as tears streamed down your cheeks. the force of you clenching around him forced suna to meet his end as well, a low groan leaving his lips as he slowly pumped his hips into yours, filling your cunt to the brim.

suna snaked his hand back up to wrap around your waist, burying his tired face into your breasts, refusing to let go as you both caught your breath, boneless after such a drawn out session.

he melted into your chest when you tiredly brought a hand up to lazily run through his hair, and this time you swore he began purring.

still connected to one another, you both began drifting off on the couch, the tv’s low hum helping you both settle into much needed rest.

you fell asleep first, cheek resting on the top of his head as you both reclined into the plush couch. suna could feel your even breaths and steady heartbeat, and smiled into your flesh before drifting off himself.

“god, i’m so lucky to have a best friend like you. i wonder what cut of diamond you prefer?”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie @yikerb

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Text

Ghost!Reader and Ghostbur a match made in heaven

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ghostbur/Wilbur, Quackity, Philza, Ranboo, (mentioned) Fundy, (mentioned) Niki, (mentioned) Tubbo

Warnings: mentions of death, cursing

Series: No, a small drabble to get the blog and my brain juices going, might make a sequel that leans more into the X Ghostbur territory depending if people want that.

Summary: Y/N wakes up and gets confronted by Quackity that they are apparently dead and forgot everything. Quackity takes them on a small tour through L’manberg to show them to Ghostbur though for what reason he isn’t absolutely sure himself seeing how Y/N died by the hands of Wilbur.

Words count: 1930

Y/N opened their eyes immediately noticing the warm sun that was laying a blanket of warmth on their whole body. Birds were happily chirping as the wind was softly brushing through the trees, making for a nice background noise.

They then noticed that they were in fact laying outside with their arms and legs outstretched but for some reason they didn’t feel inclined in moving. It felt comfortable and safe.

“Y/N?” someone called out from behind.

They felt a bit disgruntled for having to move but when they looked back towards where the the shout came from, they saw a man with a beanie and small yellow wings approaching them.

With a soft smile they waved towards that person “Yes, I believe that is my name!”

Once the person got closer they noticed how shocked he looked. His mouth was wide open, as well as his eyes.

Huffing Y/N finally stood up and walked slowly towards this shocked man “Hello? You did call out for me is that right? Y/N is my name I think.”

He in return slowly shook his head, slowly opening up and closing his mouth as if he was searching for the right words but they just wouldn’t appear. To make him feel more comfortable Y/N tried to put on their nicest smile in order to encourage him. Quite the weird man isn’t he?

“Yeah that is your name but are you like Ghostbur?” he suddenly blurted out which resulted in him smacking his hands against his mouth as if he just suddenly said something incredibly rude or embarrassing.

Y/N frowned and gave his question a good thought before answering “I’m sorry but I don’t think I know what you mean, sir.” Ghostbur? Who is that? Like him? In what way?

“Sir? Y/N, don’t you know who I am?”

Embarrassed Y/N did notice that this man clearly knew their name but when they looked at him nothing came to their mind “Oh, I’m so sorry! I suppose that must have slipped my mind! This is embarrassing.”

The man nodded to himself as if he finally realized what was happening “I’m, uh, Quackity. You used to help me a lot out back when I was Vice President.”

“Oh, really? That is weird that I can’t re-“

But Quackity interrupted them “Okay, listen I think I know what is going on but I need to check something first. What is the last thing you remember before you met me here.”

Y/N tapped their lips with their fingers as they begun thinking “Hmm, well I remember waking up under the sun here but before that. I remember warmth, no, heat. Something was hot.” Now a frown was beginning to form on their face “A scream? From who? Me? Ugh, I’m sorry Quackity I’m beginning to have a headache I just cannot remember more.”

Quackity looked hurt and defeated as he listened, nervously kneading his hands “Hey, Y/N you do realize you are dead, right? Like, you are a ghost right now.”

They blinked for a second and looked down their body which did look a bit transparent “Ah, I guess you are right! I suppose I am dead!”

“Do you know how you died?”

“What is this? An interrogation?” Y/N laughed but chose to answer the question nonetheless “All I remember is a loud bang, heat and then I was gone. That’s it.”

Quackity nodded “Come with me.”

And Y/N answered cheerfully “Okay!” as they happily floated next to him.

Quackity then led Y/N into a really pretty city. He explained to them this little nation was called L’Manberg and was currently in the middle of being rebuilt. On the way he apparently reintroduced them to a number of characters like Tubbo, Fundy, Niki and introduced them to Ranboo which was a funny little thing.

As Ranboo approached Quackity begun explaining “Ah, he is new you wouldn’t have known him but his name is-“

But Y/N was already floating over to the Hybrid, stretching their hand out “Hello! My name is Y/N I do not remember you so I’m sorry! Can you tell me your name again?”

The teenager stared at them with an unsure expression but still shook their hand “Oh! We met before? I’m sorry Y/N I can’t seem to remember you as well but my name is Ranboo.”

Quackity then had to explain to the both of them that they have actually never met before. He then urged Y/N to continue walking since he had a specific person in mind they should talk to. He was thinking of Ghostbur.

Ghostbur doesn’t remember either but he and Y/N used to be best friends but also the reason for their death. When he pressed the button Y/N was in the middle of the explosion consequently loosing their last life. Shortly after, Wilbur himself died.

After some walking and searching Quackity grew annoyed so he just decided to yell out his name “Ghostbur! Where the fuck are you?”

“You called Quackity?” A soft voiced asked.

When Y/N looked they saw a pale man float from behind the building towards them. He wore a yellow sweatshirt and a red beanie on his fluffy brown hair. A single grey strand was running along the front of his hair.

They wanted to great this new man, which they presumed was Ghostbur but their body refused to act so they let Quackity speak first.

“Good, you are here. Ghostbur you know this person?”

Ghostbur was putting his hand against his chin as he floated towards Y/N. Floating around them looking at them from every angle. As he was upside down staring at them he finally spoke up again “I feel like we have been friends before. Way back. I’m sorry new ghost but I have a horrible memory.”

“Oh, I cannot remember you at all! So I’m sorry! I seem to not be able to remember anything! My name is Y/N!”

“Y/N! That’s it! You are a ghost as well! I guess we can continue being friends as ghosts! Isn’t that fun!”

The two ghosts begun happily chatting about what they remember from their death as Quackity just stared at them. He was hoping this could either awaken any memories from Y/N or Ghostbur. He wasn’t really sure what he would accomplish by doing this or what good it would do but he had to try.

He was disappointed but he didn’t know why.

“I’m gonna let you guys be, okay?” but the two weren’t really listening anymore. They were now comparing their transparency.

From that day on it was a rare thing if you didn’t see the two together. Most people first reaction was that of shock. Sure, they started out as friends but over time as Wilbur grew more desperate slowly loosing himself, Y/N made sure to stay away from him.

They tried their best to get him back off that edge but never succeeded. When the war happened they were fighting on Wilbur’s side but whenever he tried to talk to them they would just walk away.

Then they died. By a single button press from Wilbur.

While most assumed that Wilbur didn’t realize this, Philza knew. When he protected Wilbur from the blast Wilbur was squirming around trying to get a look as L’Manberg went up only for him to grow limp and whispering a shocked “Y/N”. At that point Philza was confused why he did that but after he learned of Y/N and that they apparently died in the blast, he knew.

So when he saw Ghostbur and Y/N happily interacting with each other he weirdly enough felt happy but also felt a pang of pain in his heart. Both deaths were unfair and seeing them interact like this now felt wrong to him but both seemed so happy.

The two, Ghostbur and Y/N, both lived in the sewers together. Enjoying their time as ghosts and handing out a substance called “Blue” towards everyone.

While Ghostbur still remembered some happy parts of his life Y/N barely remembered anything but small parts from their death. When prompted to try to remember more they would always get a huge headache that can get to the point that seemingly destabilizes their ghostly body, so the others didn’t try to force them again.

Philza tried to get Ghostbur to tell him more abt Y/N and what he remembers about them but he would always just answer “They were and are my best friend. I love them dearly. We hung out all the time it is really nice that we can hang out after dying as well.”

There was only one time their old self came through a bit. It was right after Tubbo exiled Tommy. Ghostbur was trying to talk to Y/N and make them follow him and Tommy. Y/N would say that the others in L’Manberg needed them to cheer all of them up so they couldn’t follow now but later they would.

Ghostbur wouldn’t take that as an answer since the two did everything together.

Y/N then got angry, so angry the other’s were figurately transported back into the time where both were still alive yelling at each other as they watched.

“No! I will not follow, Wilbur! You always do this! You assume I will just follow you but not this time! This time you are going down a route I cannot follow you!”

Everyone was surprised to hear that. For Tubbo and Fundy who stood close by recognized this speech. This was one to one what the alive Y/N once yelled at Wilbur.

Ghostbur was furrowing his eyebrows “I’m not Alivebur, I’m Ghostbur.”

Y/N looked confused themselves as they held their head in pain “I- I know that. I’m sorry Ghostbur. I have no idea where that came from. I- uh, please go after Tommy. I will come visit later and maybe stay but right now I need to be here.”

Ghostbur nodded and floated off.

Fundy wanted to run over to Y/N asking them if they remembered anything more but they were basically running off to the sewers saying that they needed to be alone.

They don’t know what came over them. Suddenly there was this hot anger that begun to form at the pit of their stomach only to bubble over which lead to their outburst. As they were yelling they swore they were standing inside a cave. Wilbur wasn’t transparent and wearing an old destroyed coat. One of his eyes hidden behind his fluffy hair that has grown longer. The grey streak gone.

They themself felt stronger but sad. Angry. Disappointed. Heartbroken.

Fundy and Tubbo were standing by. Both looked roughed up and worried. Tubbo had bandages hidden beneath his chin. One of his eyes was covered by bandages as well and Y/N remembered feeling so much anger when they saw Tubbo. Not against Tubbo but to whoever did this to him.

As they wanted to take a closer look at more around them, they suddenly noticed that they were standing outside in L’Manberg with an obsidian wall next to them. Ghostbur in front of them, looking hurt. Tubbo and Fundy looking pale as the others who were also listening looked more shocked and confused.

They huddled down in the sewers in the room with the nice warm fire Ghostbur started. Bookshelves full with books that Ghostbur and Y/N found. A couple of books they wrote together where also found between them.

Y/N hugged themselves as a thought crossed their mind “Did Ghostbur take >How to Sex 2< with him? I’m sure Tommy misses it.”

#dsmp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #reader insert #Ghostbur #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fanfiction #ghostbur fanfiction #philza #quackity #tubbo #fundy #dream smp fanfiction #niki #ranboo #ramza writes

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badass-at-fandoming · 3 years

Text

Just Little Malkavian Things ~

Malkavians these days can do nothing but de-conceptualize, Dement, eat hot chip, and lie.

Since people seemed to enjoy the #JustLittleVentrueThings VTMB adventure, here's a matching Malkavian one. Though I'm gonna be real with ya here, I had less fun D:

I finally figured out why I have such trouble wrapping my head around depictions of Malkavians in VTM media. Books, Storytellers, and fans say it's like having a mental illness and being linked to a massive group chat. But, listen, I've lived around and with mental illness all my life. I've been in massive group chats. Being Malkavian ain't like that.

It IS like being an early-twenties English major in the midst of an existential crisis, over-worked and cross-faded outta your skull and watching horror movies to Cope(TM)

So it's like drugs. It's like you had too much weed and too much wine and are let loose on Los Angeles. Which. My friends and I have and we, coincidentally, also "fought" a stop sign. The Malkavian PC never really seemed like a character to me: she's like a collection of cliches and dude-bros doing blunts while watching slasher movies. I named her Liotta after the Psychic Shop owner, and I'm sad Liotta didn't really get to be a person.

I wasn't surprised by any of the dialog. It's a pattern. Alliteration, allusion, animal joke. Alliteration, allusion, animal joke. It lost its charm.

Often, I didn't know what the FUCK I was saying. Which is the Malkavian Experience(TM), according to Rosa.

Anyway

Nonsense time

Most characters have an extra paragraph of dialog to Acknowledge That You Are A Malkavian. Some get an extra conversation branch. For example, there's lots of new Bertie dialog and he was all impressed Liotta knows about Gehenna and Thin-bloods <3. The Anarchs characters, especially Skelter, get a lot more. Skelter, Ash, and Liotta totally vibe.

If you sneak around the Santa Monica drug house, they talk about Mercurio?? Hello?? Mercurio, you bent Masquerade by not getting beat up real good.

Zero pretense about Voerman. Yes, I have DID; yes, I am making it your problem.

When Liotta talked to Beckett, he said the DID was "something to look forward to." Goddamnit, Beckett. That's not how the Bane or mental illness works! >:-(

I've never sneaked before!!! Did you know that the Tong AND the American gang downtown have fakes in their suitcases??? Like, Full On, "it's just stuffed with newspapers, brah." They were going to kill each other over newspapers. For some reason the Tong brought the REAL suitcase along too, but I'm so past having VTM make any sort of sense. It's fine.

Accidentally pissed off Nines. I meant farmer (affectionate) and Nines thought I meant farmer (derogatory). :(

The Dementation powers are (a) pretty purple loop-de-loops, (b) not as effective as Dominate (reaaaallyyy missed a good AOE attack), and (c) oddly enough, gave more compassionate dialog choices. I mean. In the pen-and-paper version, Dementation isn't conflict-focused, so the devs had to jigger it to use as attacks. But I was touched when Liotta made Hannah believe she was Paul, so Hannah got to say goodbye. Making Samantha believe Liotta was a pet turtle was funny and spared her the pain of her friend vanishing a second time. Heather thinks her entire experience was a dream and returns to her life, more or less unscathed.

Boris?? Asked Liotta to kill Venus for him???? DUDE, WHAT. I didn't know he could counter-offer!! What happens if you take up his offer? Who controls Confession? Does it close down??

Pro Tip: don't trust the pale woman in a cowboy stripper outfit who comes out of your vent and tells you everything's fine.

I went through an ENTIRE Ventrue playthrough without puking and Liotta ate one (1) unhoused person and blew chunks. I didn't realize Diseased Blood was a threat. What happens if you skip the Plague-bearer quest? Should you just never chomp on the Downtown unhoused community?

Strauss called Liotta "young one" and I was like, sir. You're not Beckett, you can't trick me.

A rat dances in the Downtown sewers and tells Liotta that the grass is greener in someone else's asshole.

And also will take you places.

Do you know what it's like for a Capri Sun to suddenly start speaking and offer taxi services.

LaCroix: how did Bach find me??? also LaCroix: [names his company after himself] [lives in Ventrue Tower]

Liotta told Beckett that Kindred are a joke and I got extra EXP for being so sneaky.

DMP produced snuff films even before Andrei???!!!! I thought all the blood was from the lil geo-dudes.

Liotta agreed with Andrei that Caine is here and boot-scooting around in his lil Angst Mobile. :D

As bad as Liotta was in group fights, she repeatedly made bosses cower and stand quietly while she beat them to death. Andrei had a full on lay-on-the-floor temper tantrum in his war form and Liotta just. Smacked him until he exploded. She didn't even take damage!

Imalia's computer password is ALSO "cleopatra." Just like Tawni's! Dual reference to the Embrace type

IDK why I never asked this before, but, um, who does Mitnick share the bunk bed with? Barabus..?

I went back to the Empire Hotel Penthouse suite to fetch the educational book and the Russian mob dudes were still there?? Hello, sirs, your leader is dead. You can leave now.

Liotta heard the real thoughts of the Red Dragon hostess...and also some debate about the Dark Father's presence in LA, heehee.

I thought it was fun that one of the "take me away, Cabbie!" taxi replies mentioned riding in a car like father and child. :D

"Why is the Mandarin giggling at me" is a sentence that came out of my face.

With the different dialog options, sometimes it's impossible to be polite to NPCs. For example: Liotta could only call VV "dolly/doll/toy doll" instead of her preferred names; the Chinatown gun seller felt frightened, thinking we were Police or Immigration.

Some great fourth wall breaks in the dialog: "I don't want to get involved either, but tell that to whoever is playing me!" to Beckett after the Giovanni Mansion.

"You can't spell success without whatever the hell my name is."

"If I cannot win with effort, I will cheat my way to victory. I am gone." Funnily enough, this was my first run where I didn't hack in to boost stats.

"I just want it to end. I feel like I've been playing forever."

Some nice wider lore references: "I devour knowledge like the great worm devours the corpse of society" could refer to how Salout, in tapeworm form, is devouring Tremere's body and destabilizing the Clan and/or Kindred night society.

"They should have a channel devoted to you in my head" to Beckett. In his Diary, Beckett witnesses Malkavians devouring Malkav and may or may not join the Cobweb (PS check out this great fanfic where he does).

This made me stare into space for a minute and question my life choices. During the Sabbat massacre, Liotta didn't snack on any of the blood doll ghouls (ya know, the ones with the eyes gouged out). She had such high Inspection + Finance that she had $4k in her wallet and could buy blood. I wanted to test a rumor that if you don't feed on the blood dolls, you get extra EXP. You do. BUT anywAY, right before the Tremere miniboss, Liotta was sword-fighting some goons and the blood doll...attacked him for her? Like. He moved on his own. When the goon was dead, the blood doll asked if Liotta was all right. This might have been a glitch but...the horrific implications that those men are still conscious, still willful, still feeling. ACK. I hope they got out the next morning.

RIP Ming Xiao. Flamethrower right to the tiddies.

I stole @ryttu3k's idea and noclipped through the werewolf section. Liotta still killed the Garou, but I didn't want the stress.

Caine is very Caine. "Don't you get it? We've already been judged!"

Liotta went Anarch because what little backstory I came up for her was she considered Smiling Jack her sire. Nines complimented her ability to murder.

Sheriff got sooooo dizzy that he fell over right onto Liotta's sword 27 times.

Dancing werewolf ending! Seemed fitting. :D

#vtm #vtmb #vampire the masquerade #malkavian #anarch #smiling jack #sebastian lacroix #nines rodriguez #cuthbert beckett #ming xiao #andrei the defiler #text post #my vtm nonsense

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cicada-bones · 3 years

Text

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 8: A Golden Afternoon

Its the middle of the night - so Im definitely going to post this again in the morning - but here you go! thanks for the nice words I really appreciate it ❤︎

word count: 4120

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Barely five minutes had passed before Lysandra was sauntering down the stairs, arms now empty and her gaze lazily sweeping over Rowan’s bare chest. Her eyes burned with intent, but he knew she was cataloguing him, marking the strength, height, weapons in his hands – the gaze of a spy. And Rowan couldn’t help but wonder if she really was just spying for Aelin. With those wildcat eyes…who else would she be serving but herself? Was there a chance she might betray them?

Rowan could practically feel Aedion’s eyes on him from behind, his scent burning with jealousy. Rowan had to keep his own eyes from rolling.

Lysandra shot Rowan a wry smile as she passed them, and Rowan caught a whiff of her scent on the breeze. It was strange, almost…layered. He couldn’t quite figure it out, and before he could get a full breath, Lysandra had wrenched the rolling door open and left the warehouse, pulling it shut behind her.

Then Aelin appeared on the stairs, a pile of garments in her arms. “These are for you,” she to Rowan. “Looks like I owe Nesryn a favor, she asked Lysandra to bring them this morning.”

Aelin continued as Rowan started up the stairs to take the clothes off her hands. “She also brought news. Arobynn received a report last night that two prison wagons were spotted heading south to Morath – chock full of all those missing people. We need to send for Chaol.”

Aedion nodded, already heading out the door, while Rowan continued into the apartment to see if the new clothes would fit. When he passed Aelin, she smirked at him.

So that’s a no on the fit. Rowan held in a sigh. Knowing Aelin, she’d put him in tight clothing on purpose.

···

To Rowan’s relief, the clothes hadn’t been all that tight. The pants were loose enough that they no longer restricted his movement, even if they were nearly four inches too short at the ankle. But Aelin had still given him an overly-pleased once over when his back was turned. She was spending too much time with Lysandra.

By late morning, Chaol was standing in the middle of the clearing, his eyes fixed on the map between his fingers. His steel, cotton, and birchwood-flavored scent was exactly as Rowan remembered from when he’d first tasted it in Aelin’s blood all those months ago, in that reckless first bite.

The memory alone was enough for ice to crack through Rowan’s veins, freezing his expression in place. This man had been responsible for sending Aelin across the sea, with no warning and no protection, right into the arms of his former queen. Who had been responsible for the broken heart she had arrived with. And then, when she returned here, he had the impudence to tell her that it was her fault he had failed to protect his King. That it was her fault her cousin had ended up in prison and Dorian the walking dead.

Rowan wanted to rip his face off with his teeth.

But instead, Rowan just stood guard by the door. Keeping his eyes locked on the former captain of the guard.

The man was of slightly higher than average stature, with brown eyes and hair, and hardened features. He held his broad shoulders straight back, his spine rigid, but his limbs were unsettled. He couldn’t stop shifting in place, discomforted.

Rowan suppressed another grin.

The man’s eyes also kept shifting to Aelin, and as he moved in place yet again, Rowan caught the slightest hint of jasmine and flame in his scent – Aelin.

Even though he couldn’t detect even a trace of the captain’s scent on Aelin anymore, the captain was still holding on to her. Still carrying her scent. Fury bubbled in Rowan’s gut.

Despite the vile words he’d hurled at her, the captain still wanted Aelin, and now that Rowan was looking for it, he could see the pain from her rejection written all over him.

Rowan almost regretted being polite to the man. But he knew Aelin would be rightfully furious with him if he attacked Chaol when their alliance was already so fragile. So he stuck to the door.

But that didn’t mean Aelin didn’t notice his icy stare, nor the captain’s discomfort. Her eyes glinted. “You know, he won’t bite,” she crooned.

Chaol leveled a stare at her. “Can you just explain what these maps are for?”

“Anything you, Ress, or Brullo can fill in regarding these gaps in the castle defenses would be appreciated,” she said.

His lips pursed as he folded up the map, tucking it into the inner pocket of his tunic. “For you to bring down the clock tower?”

“Maybe,” Aelin said flatly.

Chaol bristled. He was still obviously avoiding Rowan’s gaze. “I haven’t heard from Ress or Brullo for a few days,” he said tersely. “I’ll make contact soon.”

Aelin just nodded, pulling out a second map – this one of the sewer network. She weighed it down on the table with two of the daggers hidden up her sleeves.

Chaol shot her a disapproving look that made Rowan want to snarl.

Aelin ignored them. “Arobynn learned that the missing prisoners were taken to Morath last night. Did you know?”

Chaol tensed. “No.”

“They can’t have gotten far. You could gather a team and ambush the wagons.”

“I know I could.”

“Are you going to?”

He laid a hand on the map, his face darkening. If Rowan didn’t know any better, he might have felt sympathetic. The man was obviously in pain.

His words were low, but hard. “Did you bring me here to prove a point about my uselessness?”

Aelin straightened. Rowan leaned forwards slightly, readying himself. Aelin spoke, choosing her words very carefully, “I asked you to come because I thought it would be helpful for the both of us. We’re both – we’re both under a fair amount of pressure these days.”

“When do you make your move?” the captain asked, his eyes roving over the map.

“Soon.”

Another purse of the lips. Apparently, he didn’t like her non-answers. “Anything else I should know?”

“I’d start avoiding the sewers. It’s your death warrant if you don’t.”

“There are people trapped down there—we’ve found the nests, but no sign of the prisoners. I won’t abandon them.”

“That’s all well and good,” Aelin said calmly, even as Chaol slammed his teeth together, “but there are worse things than Valg grunts patrolling the sewers, and I bet they won’t turn a blind eye to anyone in their territory. I would weigh the risks if I were you.”

The captain was angry, but he kept silent as Aelin combed her fingers through her hair and asked, “So are you going to ambush the prison wagons?”

“Of course I am.”

Rowan couldn’t doubt the sincerity there, and it seemed Aelin couldn’t either. Her eyes softened in concern, her scent flickering. And Rowan knew that there was still some affection left for the old captain of the guard. But how much?

Aelin sighed softly. Then said, “They use warded locks on the wagons. And the doors are reinforced with iron. Bring the right tools.”

It was Rowan’s turn to clench his jaw. Aelin would know, she had spent weeks in one. Chained up and in the dark. On her way to slavery.

It took all of his self control to remain still and standing.

The captain straightened up, making to leave.

“Tell Faliq that Prince Rowan says thank you for the clothes,” Aelin said. And even though confusion passed over Chaol’s face, he nodded his agreement. Rowan stepped aside with a murmur of farewell as the captain stepped into the bright sunlight of the golden afternoon.

···

To his great surprise, Aelin told him that there wasn’t anything pressing they needed to take care of that day, so instead, she spent the time showing him her city.

She took him through the slums, keeping to the shadows whenever possible, and they walked all the way through the capital to the elegant residential districts and the busy markets squares, now crammed with vendors selling goods for the summer solstice in two weeks.

She talked all the while, pointing out paths and walkways, busy intersections and guard postings, along with all those little details that made this place her home, the good and the bad. And so much of it seemed to be connected to Sam.

Places they had walked together, ate together, laughed together – where they had grown up. She even pointed out the place Sam had rescued her from the sewers when she had been kidnapped and nearly drowned.

The cobbles were warm with the afternoon sunlight, and despite the darkness of the Valg guards, the pair of them walked through the city as if belonged to them. As if the streets and buildings were but a carpet unrolled before their feet.

“The man who runs that store always used to give me free tarts.”

“That dressmaker was my favorite, she always knew exactly how to alter a garment to suit you perfectly.”

“I had dance lessons here for years, the instructor is an amazing woman, you would have loved her. She let me play her piano, even if my back was never straight enough for her. She helped me rescue Aedion.”

They even spent almost half an hour in an old music repair shop, wandering among the aisles of old instruments and piles of music sheets. Even if, in Rowan’s opinion, no piece of music could be more beautiful than the sound of her laugh as he nearly tripped over some twisted pieces of metal she told him belonged to a broken brass horn.

Aelin also took him to one of Nesryn’s family bakeries, where she tried force him to eat some of a pear tart, no matter how many times he told her that it smelled sickly sweet to him.

At the docks however, Rowan actually managed to convince Aelin to try some pan-fried trout. She cringed and swore at first, but once she’d tried it, she finished her fish in record time and soon was trying to sneak bites of his. Rowan snarled at her, but he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching into a smile.

After their late lunch, they sat at the edge of the docks and cooled by the water. They were mostly silent, instead listening to the sounds of the shipyards, seabirds and waves.

Rowan found that his thoughts kept sliding to Sam. He’d been just a boy when he died, barely eighteen. They’d had so little time together. And before Aelin had gotten a chance to deal with his death, she had been sold into slavery.

Rowan tried to find the words to ask her about Sam, about how she felt for him, but before he could, the sound of a whip cracked through their pleasant silence.

Aelin met his eyes, her face grave. Soundlessly, they stood and walked away from the water and back to the shore, where they watched as a cluster of chained slaves hauled cargo onto one of the ships. People who, no doubt, were captured and enslaved because of their opposition to Adarlanian rule. Rebels in chains, allies of Terrasen and its queen.

They watched, and could to nothing.

A cold, endless fury burned in Aelin’s eyes; a fury that made him want to call a storm of ice and wind so strong it would turn the shipyards to rubble, the slavers with them. But he couldn’t, and not only because his magic was locked inside his body. Instead they just stared. And swore to themselves that soon, perhaps very soon, those slaves would be freed.

He and Aelin wandered away, back through the market stalls from which they came, though now the silence between them felt heavy with darkness.

Now the wooden paths were full of the scent of roses and wild lilies, the ocean breeze sweeping petals of every shape and color past their feet as the flower girls shouted about their wares. Husbands leaned over bouquets to bring home to their wives, bachelors picked out arrangements for their intended, while girls giggled over daisies and shot the boys looks from beneath their lashes when they thought no one was watching.

Rowan stopped in his tracks. The smell, the laughter, the color – it was all so familiar that it made his heart wrench in two.

There was a woman across from them in the center of the square, a basket of hothouse peonies on her thin arm. She was young, pretty, and dark-haired, and her eyes sparkled with something hidden – twin to his mate of two centuries earlier.

Memories began flashing behind his eyes – a mountain home in smoke, arms digging a grave, blood running tracks down the backs of his hands. The face of a woman in a market across the sea, flowers in her arms and hair, a smile lighting up her face. Even the queen by his side couldn’t dull the screaming reverberating in his head.

Rowan didn’t hear what Aelin said as she turned to him, but he saw her face. Her eyes widened, and she clenched and unclenched her fingers, any words lodged in her throat.

Rowan just stared at the girl, who was smiling, alight with life and a vibrant energy that sliced through him like a knife. She smiled at a passing woman, holding out her peonies for a sale.

Rowan breathed, Aelin’s anxiety brushing past him with a wash of flickering embers. Truth. The only thing he could offer her.

“I didn’t deserve her,” he said quietly.

Aelin swallowed hard. A long pause. Then, “I didn’t deserve Sam.”

Rowan turned to look at Aelin, her eyes downturned, her mouth soft. He would do anything to keep that sadness off her face. Anything.

Rowan reached out to brush her fingers with his, maybe to hold her hand, or pull her body into his. But at the last moment, he remembered himself, and dropped his arm back to his side.

He must have invented that glint of disappointment in Aelin’s eyes.

“Come,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

They left the flower girls behind, moving deeper into the city, but Rowan was unable to completely let go of the pain wrapping his heart in ice.

···

Aelin scrounged up some dessert from the street vendors while Rowan waited in a shadowed alley, then she pulled him deeper into the city proper, until they darted into a side alley and ducked into a hidden entrance that led to a rickety wooden staircase.

Now, Aelin was munching on a lemon cookie while they sat on one of the wooden rafters in the gilded dome of the darkened Royal Theater, Aelin swinging her legs in the open air below.

The space was dark and silent, unnaturally so. As if the very seats and aisles longed for the return of the music that had once blanketed them. Sunlight poured in from the roof door they’d entered through, illuminating the rafters and the golden dome, gleaming faintly off the polished brass banisters and the blood red curtains of the stage below.

“This used to be my favorite place in the entire world,” Aelin said, her words full of a loving nostalgia. “Arobynn owns a private box, so I went any chance I could. The nights I didn’t feel like dressing up or being seen, or maybe the nights I had a job and only an hour free, I’d creep in here through that door and listen.”

Rowan finished the cookie Aelin had foisted on him, still just gazing into the dark space below. He still hadn’t said anything since they’d left the flower vendors, and he could smell the scent of Aelin’s worry wafting around them. Wanting to ease her tension, and to turn away from the icy marble deep in his chest, he turned back to her.

Aelin seemed to practically sigh in relief as he said, “I’ve never seen an orchestra – or a theater like this, crafted around sound and luxury. Even in Doranelle, the theaters and amphitheaters are ancient, with benches or just steps.”

“There’s no place like this anywhere, perhaps. Even in Terrasen.”

“Then you’ll have to build one.”

“With what money? You think people are going to be happy to starve while I build a theater for my own pleasure?”

“Perhaps not right away, but if you believe one would benefit the city, the country, then do it. Artists are essential.”

Aelin sighed, seemingly unable to handle another burden, small as it was. “This place has been shut down for months, and yet I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air.”

Rowan angled his head, studying. “Perhaps the music does live on, in some form.” It was almost as though he could feel its absence, in the taste of the air and the flutter of the curtains. The space wasn’t just empty, it was waiting.

A silver lining appeared in Aelin’s eyes. “I wish you could have heard it – I wish you had been there to hear Pytor conduct the Stygian Suite. Sometimes, I feel like I’m still sitting down in that box, thirteen years old and weeping from the sheer glory of it.”

“You cried?” he blinked, watching as the memories passed behind her eyes and wishing he could see them as she did.

“The final movement – every damn time,” she sighed, almost laughing at herself. “I would go back to the Keep and have the music in my mind for days, even as I trained or killed or slept. It was a kind of madness, loving that music. It was why I started playing the pianoforte – so I could come home at night and make my poor attempt at replicating it.”

“Is there a pianoforte in here?” he asked, looking back into the darkness without waiting for an answer, the ghost of a smile passing over his face.

···

“I haven’t played in months and months. And this is a horrible idea for about a dozen different reasons,” Aelin complained for the tenth time as she finished rolling back the curtains on the stage.

Rowan kept quiet, focusing on lighting the single candle he had found backstage. He knew that the space had once been grand and beautiful, but now, amid the gloom of the dead theater, it felt like standing in a tomb. The chairs were still perfectly arranged for a massive orchestra, though they were now covered in dust. No one had been in here in weeks.

Rowan turned and walked over to the pianoforte, which was near the front of the stage. He had never learned to play, his court lessons not extending so far as learning an instrument.

Rowan had been to his fair share of balls and events, but it had been a rare thing for him to have an opportunity to listen to music just for music’s sake. Much of those events had been heavily overshadowed by the annoyance of dealing with court maneuvering. And after Lyria’s death, he had avoided such things at all costs.

He could barely remember the last time he had been able to listen to any kind of music and just listen. To have the pleasure of experiencing the art, the magic of it. He ran a hand over the smooth surface of the instrument as if it were a prize horse, marveling at the potential the lay within.

Aelin was hesitating at his side. “It seems like sacrilege to play that thing,” she said, her words echoing too loudly in the space.

“Since when are you the religious type, anyway?” Rowan gave her an encouraging smile. He just hoped that it wasn’t too crooked. “Where should I stand to best hear it?”

“You might be in for a lot of pain at first.”

“Self-conscious today, too?” Maybe teasing would get it out of her.

“If Lorcan’s snooping about,” she grumbled, “I’d rather he not report back to Maeve that I’m lousy at playing.”

He just grinned as she pointed to a spot on the stage. “There. Stand there, and stop talking, you insufferable bastard.” He chuckled, and moved across to the center of the stage.

She swallowed as she slid onto the smooth bench and folded back the lid, revealing the gleaming keys beneath. She positioned her feet on the pedals, but made no move to touch the keyboard. “I haven’t played since before Nehemia died,” she admitted, the words heavy.

“We can come back another day, if you want,” he said softly.

“There might not be another day. And – and I would consider my life very sad indeed if I never played again.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. So get on with it then.

She sighed, but turned back to face the keys and slowly set her hands on the instrument, a great beast of sound and joy about to be awakened.

“I need to warm up,” she blurted, then plunged in, the notes soft and light.

It was just a random selection of chords and scales, but still, the music filled the hall with its caring whisper. The whole space seemed to breathe again, as if soaking up the music like light, or air.

And then she began for real.

The piece she played wasn’t merely happy or sad, calm or excited – it was far, far more than that. The complexity of the notes, the way they layered together and bounded off each other – it felt like the melody of life itself. Of the love and glory and pain and beauty in simply breathing.

It filled Rowan up with its warmth, and he felt Aelin’s fiery heat overflowing within each note. The music seemed to be made of her fire, and together they burned. All the while the music built, up and up and up and up, until the sound breaking from the instrument was like the heart-song of a long lost goddess.

Rowan stood and waited, letting the sound wrap around his form like a blanket, letting it slowly melt the ice around his heart. Aelin had always been able to do that, melt away his pain and resistance, without even realizing she could. And now she did so not with words, but with this music that flew from her fingers like small winged creatures, into the empty seats behind them.

Rowan drifted over to stand beside the instrument. He was drawn to her, to the fire that made him feel so alive. Then she whispered to him, “Now,” and the crescendo shattered into the world, note after note after note. The music crashed around them, roaring through the emptiness of the theater.

She brought the piece home to its final explosive, triumphant chord, and Rowan could feel tears lining his eyes. When she looked up, panting slightly, he just gazed at her, at the queen who had lit up his darkness, and marveled.

He struggled for words, but then finally breathed, “Show me - show me how you did that.”

···

They spent the better part of an hour seated together on the bench, Aelin teaching him the basics of the pianoforte – explaining the sharps and flats, the pedals, the notes and chords. At last when Rowan heard someone coming to investigate the music, they slipped out.

On their way back to the apartment, they stopped at the Royal Bank. Aelin went inside alone, having ordered Rowan to wait in the shadows across the street, impatient and pissed off. Luckily she only took a few minutes, returning with a bag of gold clasped to her belt.

“So you’re using your own money to support us?” Rowan asked, masking his irritation as best he could.

“For now.”

“And what will you do for money later?”

She glanced sidelong at him. “It’ll be taken care of.”

“By whom?”

“Me.”

He clenched his teeth, anger mounting. “Explain.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” She gave him a small smile that drove him completely insane. Rowan made to grab her by the shoulder, but she ducked away from his touch.

“Ah, ah. Better not move too swiftly, or someone might notice.”

He snarled viciously but she only chuckled. “Just be patient and don’t get your feathers ruffled.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, stopping another snarl in its tracks. This conversation could wait until they were both home. Maybe then he would be able to convince her that he absolutely needed to be let in on her plans. It was the only way to keep her safe.

But would she listen?

Rowan scowled at that thought, and took off into the shadows behind Aelin, following her back to the warehouse.

···

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#rowaelin #rowaelin ff #rowan pov #warrior and the wildfire #watw #queen of shadows #queen of shadows rowan pov

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

Text

16. Play.

Noticing the power shift created by Joey’s new form and role in his story, the Ink demon, the Prophet, and the now much more lucid searchers are interested in playing a few games with their old pals Henry and Joey. (Or not very interested, in the prophet and searchers’ cases) (Set in the AU where by yeeting Joey into the ink machine before going through the portal-door in the kitchen, Henry is accompanied by a chatty, useless, and overall insufferable little imp.)

The novelty of Joey accompanying him as a friendly, (Henry used that term loosely considering what he knew now.) tiny, cartoon demon wore off the second the story actually kicked into play. For starters, the former animator knew that whether either of them liked it or not, Joey was going to be clinging to him whenever he felt like it and following him like a lost puppy.

At the moment, the imp was running ahead of the animator, tapping his feet impatiently as he ‘waited’ for the old man to catch up before scurrying off again and occasionally tripping, but Henry knew that by the time the Ink Demon came into play, the little devil would use him as a meat shield.

Speaking of the two devils, Henry approached the freshly boarded up ink machine room which Joey was already peering into with an uneasy expression on his pale face. The animator also peered into the room, but instead of being greeted by the Ink Demon popping out of the hole and starting the chase, he watched the Ink demon pace about the small room with an expression he’d never seen on it before: a grimace.

In addition to the demon’s seemingly much more expressive face, he seemed to have a different approach to his role as a villain now that he had no script from Joey to follow; a villain who was much more dangerous than a smart animal.

“SAMMY! JACK! JOHNNY!”

The Ink Demon shouted and called up three figures of ink.

“Alright, now listen up you three good-for-nothing, sewer-water-brained Lackeys, the creators will be here ANY second now, and if I find out YOU STUPID INK BLOTS let them get away, I’m gonna wring your necks out like wet towels! Do I make myself clear?!”

“Yes, your vileness.” The swollen searcher with a bowler hat replied in a tired sounding tone.

“Clear as day, your assholiness.” The Prophet added, sounding like more of a smartass than he had ever been when he was alive.

“Y-yes… Lord Ink Demon… We’ll take good care of them all right! W-well not good, but- EEEP!” a third searcher that appeared to have teeth made out of piano keys meekly stuttered and hid from the Ink Demon’s untrusting glare from behind the safety of the Prophet’s legs.

“Good! Now listen up: they’ve started up our machine already so we don’t have much time to plan: So what do we do to stop them?”

“Uh... ...Same thing as always?”

“W-well… I’m sure that you’ll have the best plan out of all of us, your rottenness!”

“You can stick your hand out of the holes in the boards and watch them run and fall to their doom like a pair of stray sheep who don’t see the cliff.”

“NO! When Joey’s not in control, I’m calling the shots around here! And I say: We’re not going to run his stupid story through the machine any more! We’re doing something completely different, something that will really make ‘em suffer...”

“Henry!” Joey tugged on the man’s pant leg and whispered loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to grab the ink monsters’ attention. “He can think and talk! He’s not supposed to do that! Hell, aside from Sammy, none of them are supposed to be any smarter than feral animals! Not to mention, they all look different… I think that stuff on Sammy is supposed to be hair, but it’s never been THAT long before...”

The Ink Demon slapped his forehead and grumbled under his breath.

“Speak of the %*#@ing devils…” He then stared expectantly at the confused trio of searchers. “WELL?! THEY’RE HERE; RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR! ARE YOU GONNA MAUL ‘EM OR ARE YOU JUST GONNA SIT AROUND WAITING FOR THE COCKROACHES IN YOUR HEADS TO CHEW UP THE GARBAGE YOU CALL BRAINS FIRST?!”

“Why not take the pleasure in offing them yourself, your dicklessness?”

“Uh, Yeah, and when you fail at that, we’ll set up traps for ‘em downstairs. It’s not like they’re gonna escape the studio.”

The searcher with piano key teeth sheepishly nodded along.

“What?! But I had this cool dramatic entrance planned out and everything- ARGH! FINE!” The Ink Demon grumbled as he started breaking the boards. “If you want a mauling done right...”

Henry held Joey like a football as he ran through the rapidly flooding studio as the Ink Demon cackled manically throughout the chase.

“READY OR NOT HEEREEE I COOOOMEEEE~”

Henry found himself having to jump and duck to avoid a lot more falling debris and had felt the demon’s claws at his back at times, the situation was not helped by Joey screaming and crying the entire time.

He felt more dread than relief as he saw the exit coming in, no matter how close it got, he never got to it, like every time before, the floorboards broke underneath his feet. He always fell, and now, someone would try to catch him.

“HA! NOT WHEN I’M IN CHARGE, CREATOR!”

And would succeed.

It happened so fast that Joey couldn’t tell if he did it intentionally or not, but he had slipped out of Henry’s grip and had fallen down to the depths of the studio with a loud ‘splash’ announcing his arrival.

Announcing that he was alone, defenseless, and weak. In a studio that Joey now knew no longer was his to control, and was filled with many, many enemies who would fully take advantage of that.

“Y-you just need to stay c-calm, Joey...” He pulled himself up on a floating piece of stray wood and started paddling towards the valve. “There’s an ax nearby, all you need to do is get to it and you’ll be fine. you’ve seen Henry do this hundreds of times, you’ll be alright, you just need to believe in yourself.”

In spite of his reassuring speech, the scared little imp felt a large pit of dread in his gut. The former Music director, former lyricist, and the former organist would probably hesitate if it was Henry instead, but those three caught him... Joey shuddered just thinking about it.

As the ink drained he took his miraculously unstained bath robe off of the floor and put it back on. He was also missing his pants now, but it wasn’t like he could go back up to get them, and even if he could, he wasn’t going to fight the Ink Demon for a pair of fucking pants that were too big for him anyway.

“Get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry...”

He repeated to himself under his breath as he repeated his task of descending and turning valves as an attempt to keep himself from jumping at every twist and turn. The imp also kept his eyes peeled for anything that looked suspicious or out of place, fearing the looming threat of the searchers’ traps.

The ax and the room was exactly how Joey had left it, not a single thing changed, which did make him feel relieved.

When he moved forward, he didn’t find any evidence that Sammy was worshiping Bendy at all when in the shrine room, there were plenty of ritualistic circles, plenty of cryptic messages, but they all had the little devil as a thing that was meant to be sacrificed, not as something worth the former musician’s worship.

“Of all the runs for Sammy to not worship Bendy...” He groaned. “It HAD to be the one where I became an imp...”

He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or even more afraid when he didn’t see Sammy moving the cutout around.

------

When Joey got to the music department itself, he heard the sounds of laughter, pool balls clacking, cheers and glasses clinking in the distance. Following the sounds, he found the three searchers lounging around the pool table in the middle of a conversation and a game.

The upbeat atmosphere fizzled out when the three noticed him. The Swollen searcher muttered something about the game just getting good, the Piano key-toothed searcher groaned about Joey spoiling all the fun as usual, and the masked mad maestro smiled at him.

Not in a sarcastic or forced way like how his human self smiled at people, it seemed genuine enough. But it also wasn’t a warm or kind smile, it seemed more ...hungry.

“Hello little Lamb.” The prophet stood up and got into the imp’s face, “Are you interested in playing a game with us?”

‘Oh fuck, he’s still crazy.’ Joey thought to himself. “N-no thanks!” He smiled and waved hoping that he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. “I’ve got a friend of mine to get back to and I really don’t have a lot of time to play.”

The imp dashed out of the break room and slammed the door shut behind him, completely unaware that the merriment had returned to the room.

“Thank god he didn’t go for it.” Johnny sighed. “If The Ink Demon found out about this room because of that little runt...”

“I told you it would work.” The prophet took the mask back off and set it aside on a crate. “...But he’ll probably come back to pester us into trying to help him find Henry, maybe even take up the game offer.”

“Yeah...” Jack poured himself another shot. “Kinda surprised that you didn’t jump at the chance to make his life hell though.”

“Less is more.” The prophet hit the eight ball and watched the rest of them knock against each other. “If you get one big punch left to linger, it hurts like a bitch, if you get hundreds of them, you grow numb to the pain. But I don’t think that Inky understands that.”

“Well, at least he can have fun playing his game of cat and mouse with Joey...”

“Yeah.” Johnny raised his glass. “Cheers to those two being each others’ problems instead of ours!”

“Cheers!”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #Henry Stein #ink demon #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #johnny batim #ink demonth #fanfic

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

I Can’t Say - Din Djarin

Anonymous said: A story were The reader and mando has feelings for one another but they dont know it. (i love your stories!)

Anonymous said: hellooo, can you do one with mando, where him & y/n got into a huge fight and he said something hurtful to her then he tries to spoil her by buying lots of flowers or things from the market ? Thank you

I decided to combine these two requests! I hope that’s alright!

AN: Also, take it easy on me. I haven’t written fanfiction in a hot minute so I might be a tad rusty!

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t turn away and leave me without an explanation.” With one fluid movement, Din was on his feet, facing you, looming over you. Under the light of the Razor Crest his beskar armor gleamed. Any brighter and you would have been blinded by his presence. Din was discombobulating enough already.

One moment you and the Mandalorian could be still, content even, but a moment later you were ready to fight one another. A hopeful part of your heart told you that he only argued with you, your ideas, because he cares. He doesn’t want you to get hurt due to a faulty plan you made. Yet, your mind told your otherwise. Your plan was sound. Why was he fighting you?

“He can’t be left alone.” Din pointed behind you and you turned. Squat, green, but smiling, the Child cooed. His little arms reached for you and you knelt down to scoop him up.

“Then we all go,” you pressed. “Might do him some good to see the outside world.”

“People are still after him, after us.” You glared at the helmeted man before you. “All the more reason we should go to town together. We’re vulnerable when we’re separated, more at risk. We could-”

“No.”

“Din, that’s not-” The Mandalorian walked past you, sauntering over to the weapons hold. “Listen to me, for the Maker’s sake!”

He was already preparing his pulse rifle, loading charges, and, still, ignoring you. With a huff, you set the Child back on the ground and made your way over to Din. He was still gathering his weapons. For a Mandalorian, an errand into town met amassing an arsenal. You leaned against the wall and watched him.

“Safety in numbers. The Mandalorians believe in that, yes?”

“And we paid the price,” he replied coldly, his gloved hands never stalling in their movement. You frowned and bit your tongue. Back in the catacombs, the sewers...the helmets of Din’s fallen brethren. A metal clang brought you back to the present.

When you looked back at Din, the visor of the helmet was fixed on you. So many times you had studied the helmet trying to get an idea of what the man beneath looked like. In the moment, there was no studying necessary. You could feel his frown, his pain, his anger. You wanted to reach out but your own anger held you back.

“Din, this is ridiculous,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“But safe, and that’s all that matters.”

He slung the pulse rifle over his shoulder and walked towards the exit. You followed after him, arms still crossed to keep yourself together. Any give and you’d slip into your feelings; the feelings towards Din you had been pushing down since you met the Mandalorian. How infuriating it was watching him leave as if you were nothing more than a burden to protect.

“I’m safe with you,” you fired back. Din turned and you caught yourself. “He’s safe with you. We’re safe together.” Din lingered, visor fixed on you. For a second you thought you got through to him, that maybe he would see your reason.

Then, a moment later, Din slammed his hand into a switch and the Razor Crest’s ramp began to the lower with a hiss.

“You’ll only get in my way.”

His words stung. Not like venom but like an old burn still healing. The sting that bring about a small gasp of pain, of surprise that it the hurt remains at all.

“I’ll be back after sun down,” he said, already walking out on the only partially lowered ramp. You moved to stand in the loading bay, watching him go. When he was a few paces away, you hit the same switch and the ramp began to rise.

As it did, tears welled up in your eyes and slipped suddenly over your cheeks. Angrily, you wiped at your eyes and turned your back on the last rays of light shining through the barely-open ramp. When your visioned cleared, you sighed shakily and looked at your feet.

“Hey there,” you said to the Child who, eager to see what was wrong, was pulling at your pants leg. You leaned down and picked the creature up. “Sorry about that. Being an adult...it’s stupid. You’re lucky you’re young for so long.”

The Child cooed, tiny, three-fingered hands, brushing against your face. Concern filled his big dark eyes and you felt a pang of guilt.

“I hope he stays safe too,” you whispered. You held the Child close and made your way to Din’s bed. What was once his bed, anyway. Since you started working together, before the Child, he had surrendered it to you mostly. Back then, you had joked about sharing it.

It was a cramped space, barely enough room for two but it could work. Back then, something might have happened. Now, you were glad nothing did, that Din play into your bit. You imagine it would have made watching him go out alone all the more difficult to bear. It was already hard enough; especially because he thought you would just be in his way.

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

You woke with a jolt. Years of working as a bounty hunter had made you a light sleeper. Blasterfire, speeder engines, and the hydrologic hissing of a lowering ramp would wake you. With the mystery and parties involved with the Child, you were more sensitive to sound than ever. Part of you wondered if you even slept.

However, the Child, was a heavy sleeper. This made it easy to slip out of bed without waking the little creature. Eventually, the hissing of the ramp lowering stops and you, in a defensive stance, step over to peer out. In the dark, you could make out the familiar gait of Din and the glint of the beskar under the moon. As he grows closer you make out a hempen bag that hangs off of his shoulder.

“Get everything?” The words are cold when they leave your mouth. You flinch at your own tone but stand firm. As much as you long to melt into the routine and comfort of before, Din’s words still rang in your head; still hurt your heart.

Din didn’t respond, not right away at least. He walked up the ramp, boots clanging softly against the metal. You expected him to walk right past you, still sour from the argument earlier in the day. Much to your surprise, he stopped in front of you.

Due to his spot on the ramp, he stood a bit shorter than you. When he lifted his head to meet your eyes, the hamlet tilted up enough for you to catch a glimpse of the tanned skin along his neck. The sight sent a bolt of excitement through you, a feeling that numbed your scarred feelings. You forced your gaze to focus back on his visor.

After a quiet moment, Din moved and reached his free hand into the bag. You watched him carefully. Before you could ask what he was looking for, Din pulled back. Between his gloved fingers there was a brightly colored flower.

“I can’t say I’m sorry because I said the truth,” he said softly. “I am sorry that I didn’t say it better.” He held out the flower to you.

Slowly, you pulled it from his pinched fingers. “What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t have been in my way. My worry for you would have been in my way. I have lost everything and I...I don’t want to loose you too.”

Sincerity; you can hear it through the slight static distortion of the helmet. It scares you for a moment. Din was not one to let his guard down, let alone this easily. You clutch the flower tightly, the scent coming from within the blue petals wafting up to your nose. With your free hand you reach out and press your palm to his helmet.

“I don’t want to loose you either but keeping me away, not letting me help, feels worse. I love playing babysitter for the kid but not all the time.”

“I know.” Silence fell over to the two of you for a long moment. Nothing more needed to be said. There was an understanding now, even if you wanted something more.

You let your hand fall from the side of his helmet. Before you could pull it completely away, you felt a combination of smooth leather and rough mesh grasp it. Din’s gloved hand held your wrist. When you met the eyeline of the visor, Din slipped his fingers between yours.

“I can’t say everything I want to...because of the worry.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze and nod.

“There will be time for that. We’re safe together, we stay alive together.” Din nodded and, like before when you could feel his frown, you knew that he was smiling beneath the beskar.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin x you #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fanfiction #baby yoda

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years

Text

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader- Oneshot

“No way you’re lying!”

“No uh! We got it yesterday. April said it was a gift from NYPD since it’s our birthday and all. I’m telling you it’s awesome. I’ve been trying to get my hands on it forever. Donnie says it’s too expensive. Can’t believe we finally got it. “

Mikey talked non stop about getting the just dance system. The both of you were suckers for the game. So hearing that he finally managed to score the machine, it was music to your ears.

If you’re day wasn’t already going well, it was nothing short of awesome now.

“What are we waiting for, let's go!”

You were already in the tunnels of the sewers, you picked up your pace, racing to get there first. Mikey was laughing behind you following. As you ran in through the entrance, you almost tumbled into Leo. He held you by the shoulders, laughing softly at the excitement on your face. “Woah there, is it Christmas?” you shook your head, trying to peep over his shoulder. When he saw the direction of your gaze he smiled.

“So that’s what you’re here for. And I thought for a second you wanted to wish us a happy birthday.” you grinned, reaching over and giving him a hug. “Happy Birthday Leo!” Of course you would never forget their birthday. You’d been waiting all month just to stop by. But when Mikey told you about his birthday present your excitement got the better of you. Leo returned the hug, and when you pulled away, you dug into your bag, taking out a small gift wrapped box, along with a few books. Leo’s eyes lit up like a child, and he hesitated for a second. “Is this..for me?”

“Of course silly, who else is standing here.” He took it slowing, a bit in awe. They weren’t used to getting gifts from others. It had always been just his brothers and Splinter. He appreciated the gadgets and gizmos his brothers managed to get their hands on from above, but actually getting a gift from someone other than family, it was foreign. He opened the small box, and stared at the chain with a silver sterling dragon.

“My dad says dragons are fierce leaders that protect their own. It kind of reminded me of you, so I thought I’d get it. Do you like it?”

“I love it (Y/N), thank you.” he placed the books down on the table, putting on the necklace with a smile. “How does it look?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Awesome my guy.” you responded in a deep voice, trying to imitate a man’s voice.

“Hey where’s our gift!” Mikey called.

“You really think I’d forget my favourite boys, never.” you placed the bag down, folding your legs. Donnie seemed to catch unto the commotion from his spot. “What’s going on?” he called, eyes still distracted by his screens.

“(Y/N) brought us presents!” Mikey said excitedly. Splinter who was at the back making some tea, walked out from behind the small shed where he usually brewed his drinks.

“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure they are very grateful.” you just brushed it off.

“Yeah it’s no sweat. You guys absolutely deserve it trust me. If I was a millionaire I would have bought a mansion. Sadly I’m still saving for college so you’ll have to settle for these.” One by one you took out their presents. Each gift was wrapped in their signature color. Mikey took his running on the spot in anticipation. When he opened the rectangular box, his eyes grew wide.

“No way..” It was a pair of metal tonfas. Mikey was glued to his original weapon, but you remembered the way his eyes lit up when he saw the advertisement a few months ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he wanted. He picked them up slowly, testing it out.

“THESE ARE FREAKING COOL!” well, it seemed that he approved.

“(Y/N).” from Leo’s tone you could already tell what he was going to say. “Leo come one, it’s really no big deal. You only celebrate once a year, you have to make every one memorable. Plus he loves them.” you grin. Mikey was making action noises as he struck the air. “Thanks (Y/N)!!”

“You’re welcome.”

You turned to Donnie, who was staring nervously at you. “Y-You really didn’t have to get me anything.” He assured. You rolled your eyes. “Like hell, of course I did.” None of his brothers probably knew, but Donnie, despite his very logical nature, was pretty sentimental. With all the little knick knacks he’d already obtained, you were stumped for a while on what to get him. Then it hit you. Donnie always loved the pictures you showed him of your family and friends.

You lifted the square package that was tied with a violet ribbon. He took it with a small thanks, pulling the string loose. As it fell open, the paper slipped off the side, and Donnie stared at the indigo patterned photo album. When he flipped it open, Leo leaned over, watching the pictures stuck in the small clear page. They were placed in sections. Each picture displayed a different story. One when you were wrestling with Mikey, another with Leo and Raph arguing. There was even an image on when they were awarded the keys to the city.

“This is incredible…” He was speechless. The images captured so much, Donnie thought for a second he would get teary. He pushed up his glasses, shuffling over to give you a hug. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You replied. You patted his shoulder lightly as he pulled away. He was already rushing over to set it up. You giggled. Your eyes lifted to give out your last present, but the turtle you were looking for was nowhere in sight. “Raph is in his room. He’s never been the celebrating type.” you nod. “Well I’ll change that. “ you zipped up the bag, about to head over to his room.

“When I’m done we’re definitely having a dance battle Mikey!”

“You’re on!”

Leo and Splinter watched as you jogged to the older turtle’s location.

“She is a very special girl.”

“She really is.” Leo was thankful, not just for himself, but also his brothers. The care that you showed them, it was as if it came effortless to you. It never stopped surprising him. And he was more than grateful. He just hoped his numskull brother didn’t blow his chance with you. Leo knew full well how you felt about Raph.

Raph was probably the only one who didn’t see it.

“Maybe today will be his lucky day.” With that, Leo walked away, taking the books with him.

You knocked twice. Raph always yelled at Mikey for constantly barging in. Even though you strutted there all confident, you were nervous as hell. Raph was the only one who ever made you anxious, mainly because of your gigantic crush on him. You couldn’t remember exactly when you fell for him. For as long as you knew them, they’d always been just really good friends, almost family. But somehow, you’d fallen for the hot tempered turtle. And today, you decided you’d finally own up to it.

“What do you want Mikey,I told you I don’t want to celebrate.”

“It’s me.” you twisted the knob, walking in slowly. When you entered Raph was standing with his back to you. His fists were clenched, and you realized it must have been because he was punching the bag hanging from the pole above. “What do you want?” his rough tone didn’t help much with your nerves.

“I-I just, I got you a present.” you had no idea why you were speaking so softly. Your hands gripped the backpack tightly, not sure if it was such a good idea to approach him when he was already in a bad mood. To your surprise he turned, and he didn’t look as agitated as you thought he would be.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. Mikey and everyone else is out there having fun, maybe you should join them. I’m sure you'll have fun. Why don’t you like celebrating your birthday anyway?” The moment you asked you wanted to take it back. Because it was obviously a personal issue that he maybe didn’t want to talk about.

“Y-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!”

“I’m an idiot.” you scolded yourself.

Raph looked to the side, moving to his bed. He took a seat, bracing his elbows on his knees and joining his hands. There was a flash of hurt in his usually sure emerald eyes.

“Every year in this place, it was a reminder that we’d never be accepted up there. It’s different now, we’re a part of the NYPD helping people. But what about the rest of the world. No matter what we do, they’ll never see us the same. “

So that was it. Who would have thought. Of course he was sad. They had feelings just like everyone else.

You placed the bag down, walking over to take a seat right next to him on the bed. His head turned to you, and you smiled.

“I’m so sorry you went through so much Raph. You deserved so much more. You guys are easily the coolest people I’ve ever met. U-Uh I mean turtles.” you corrected. A small smile inched its way on his face.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You couldn’t believe it, you actually got him to smile. And it was the purest thing you’d ever seen. You could physically feel the way your heart pick up. You just hoped it wasn’t loud enough for Raph to hear. He was still looking at you, and you him. Maybe your body stopped functioning, because you couldn’t pull your gaze away.

Raph was having a similar problem. You swallowed, hand raising slowly. Your palm rested on his cheek lightly, and you could only pray that your next move didn’t completely ruin your friendship. Raph didn’t utter a word when you started to lean forward. Your hand slid from his cheek to his shoulder. He should have done something to stop you.

He told himself that maybe you just felt sorry for him, or got caught up in the moment. But with the fluttering of your eyelashes, and your plumpness or your deliciously rosey lips, how could he stop it. When he felt your soft breath brush his lips he came to his senses, placing his hands on your shoulders to halt you. It felt like a dagger to his chest, the hurt that was now reflected in your eyes. His head lowered, unable to speak with you watching him so sadly.

“You don’t have to do this just for me…” He fully expected you to pull back and storm off. Maybe even smack him across the face.

“Good thing I’m not doing it for you then.” His head shot up, eyes opening in confusion.

“What-” you darted forward, claiming his lips. Raph stiffened, hands hovering in the air.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. Were you really kissing him because you were...

“Shit..” he groaned. At some point you managed to slip into his lap. His hands found your waist. You were so small compared to him. Yet, the way you were kissing him, it wasn’t hard to tell who was in control. When he felt your fingers trailing down his chest he almost lost it. His hands tightened on your waist and you moaned, rocking your hips into him. Raph parted from the abrupt action, gasping softly. When he pulled away he could see the need in your eyes. This entire time he wanted to convince himself that this was a pity kiss. Nothing more. He poured a bit of his heart and you were just trying to offer comfort.

The need glowing in your usually innocent gaze, it certainly had nothing to do with pity. You were panting, but your eyes were still marking his slightly moist lips.

“Raph..”

Why did you have to say his name like that. His will power went right out the window.

“Is this my present?” he smirked at you, and you grinned.

“It’s one of them.” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his neck and going in for another long awaited kiss. “I don’t care how other people see you Raph, because to me you’re just...you.”

He didn’t feel like he needed much validation from the world right then. Because if you would continue to stare at him with such unfiltered want, then he could do anything.

This was the first birthday he really didn’t mind celebrating. Now he had many more to look forward to with you.

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bcbii · 3 years

Text

Deception

(Leonardo x reader)

Warnings // angst, blood, character death mention.

———————————————————————————————————

Ruins, all of it Within what felt like only days but had progressed in months. The previous lively city of New York had fallen into a downward spiral at the hands of Shredder himself. Streets flooded with the black clothed soldiers patrolling them, looking for any reason to leave civilians scared or slaughtered on the open streets as toxic fumes blackening the previously blue or star filled sky. New York was becoming a waste land and Shredders playground, so everyone was under the impression of at least. All everyone knew as a fact is that normal life had been gone for good. Along with the previous fearless blue clad leader, Leonardo. Once all hell began to break loose, the turtles had been the first to answer the call. The fight that called upon them was the hardest and came at the highest cost. The cost being their father Splinter’s life and to the brothers and your knowledge, their eldest brothers as well. Not all fights could be won, and they came to such a realization once they faced it themselves. All four entered confidently, planned and ready. After engaging, their hopes for victory began to diminish. They were out numbered and overwhelmed and were given no other choice but to retreat before they got themselves killed. when doing so they waited a bit of ways off for their fellow terrapin brother to follow up as he said he was going to do. Hours of waiting, hours of searching passed and he never did return to his brothers. You hid in the lair from all the chaos, directives from you former blue clad lover and he basically begged you to stay hidden and out of harms way before they left. You had sat anxiously and in fear for hours, watching the chaos unfold in Donnie’s lab, the multiple monitors displaying multiple news channels, each one going off air into static with each attack, you were horrified, wanting nothing more than this to simply be a nightmare. The nightmare got even worse when only the three turtles returned to the lair, beaten and bruised severely, blood of both themselves and their enemies covering multiple parts of their body. “W-what happened?! W-Wheres Leo?!” The question left the youngest of the four eyes welling up with tears that you’re sure he’s been holding back since this all had begun. Their heads hang low before Donnie’s raised, his expression unreadable, “we...we don’t know..”. You felt numb, scared, so many emotions at once and you could barely describe any of them or understand them. You were sure the turtles were just as distraught as you were. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?!”

That had been months ago, after failed attempts of attack and searching to no avail, adapting had been the only viable option left for them and yourself. Numbness had become a familiar feeling amongst all of you as you all attempted to find some normality in the new world. Some of this normality consisted of scavenging for any food or materials that you could find. And tonight was a scavenging night since you guys have been running low on materials. Getting ready, you dressed yourself in all black, baggy black pants, a black t shirt and mask to cover most of your face as you pull on your black leather boots. Throwing a backpack over your shoulder, you headed out.

After you finished getting ready for the trip you went to the brothers, ask if they’d want you to look for anything in specific. Raph hadn’t really requested much of anything, Mikey just wanted decent food and Donnie just wanted computer or any electronical parts. “Be careful, you have your phone if anything happens. Call us”, The large red clad turtle said in a rough stern tone as you started to leave the sewers. “I will”, you reassured him as you left. Since Leo’s disappearance, Raphael had stepped up, doing his best to protect and help his brothers as much as possible. The large terrapin didn’t realize how much Leo was doing until he began to do it himself.

Climbing out of the manhole, you glanced around the alley way quietly, making sure the coast had been clear. Once confirmed, you headed to the abandoned apartments a few blocks down the way, a fellow scavenger hiding out there in which you’d trade with for some pretty good items that would cost quiet a lot from anyone else. The cold breeze of the night nipped at your skin as your cheeks and tip of your nose stung with the cold, but you’d shrug it off.

Climbing the fire escape, you found the shattered window you would use as the entrance all the time. As you climbed through you were careful with the shards of glass that littered the floor. It was dark in the abandoned apartment, the only light being the faint glow of the moon through any openings from the outside in. “Max”, you whisper yelled for the man as you began to step around the apartment, getting no response. The sound of heavy foot steps made you freeze in place, the floor boards creaking loudly under the persons weight. Before you could move on to the next empty room you were halted by a large form as you stumbled back and looked up, it was to dark and you quickly stumbled back, falling back on your behind as you proceeded to scoot back. The large figure before you followed, closing the distance you tried to make each time.

“Who are yo!-“, you were frozen, sharp sapphire hues that glowed in the moon light staring down at you. The faint light from the moon outline his familiar large frame, accentuating the curves and indents of his large muscular form along with the scars that littered his thick skin. A lump in your throat left you breathless as you stared in horror and felt a sick sense of relief for some odd reason.

“L-Leo....”, the name that slipped past your lips felt foreign, it didn’t match the terrapin standing in front of you. That name belong to a fearless leader, wise, strong and caring with a calm exterior. Who stood before you was a stranger, a worn black bandana in place of the old signature bright blue, tired and emotionless eyes with what seemed like an almost permanent scowl. Scarred fist gripping large sharp katanas, the metal being a special kind with a sleek black color. The foot clan insignia etched into the metal that was now dirtied with the blood of her scavenger friend.

Hearing his name slip past your lips now made him freeze, his grip tightening on the handle of his katanas. That voice was all to familiar, your gentle voice sounded scared and broken as you said it. Beneath the shell he created around who he used to be, it broke him to hear. He stared and hard, almost to see if it had been a hallucination. “......(y/n).....”, his voice was rough and deeper than usual since the lack of using it so much, only to bark orders and the puny foot soldiers he led. When your name fell from his lips emotions rushed through you as memories hit you like a freight train, it was Leo but not your Leo. Overwhelming tears began to fill your eyes as you forced yourself up and stared into his eyes. “Where have you been?!” You snapped, he stayed silent and stoic and you despised it.

Stepping back you took in fully who he had become now, pulling down your mask you pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek as a tear ran down, you stared at the branded insignia of the foot clan on the top left of his plastron. “You joined them didn’t you?.... you never disappeared or died...” you began as Leo’s lips parted to speak, “I can explain—“

“You just joined the foot and became a damn traitor!” You yelled as tears of disappointment, anger and sadness now spilled freely. The words hurt Leo to hear, especially coming from you, he cringed internally as he swallowed thickly and tried to step closer but you only backed up further. “(Y/n) please let me explain... I’m doing what needs to be done” he tried to explain. “Abandoning us? Joining the people who caused all of this?! THE ONES WHO KILLED SPLINTER! YOURE A TRAITOR LEONARDO!” You shouted ruthlessly as you stepped forward a bit and stood your ground. The now black clad turtle put himself in a position he knew would be unforgivable and he would never forgive himself either, but god how he wished he could grab you and let you know how sorry he was and how much he missed you and his brothers. Leo wanted to hold you, he wanted to break down too through all of this but he was the cold blooded assassin that led the foot clan, he couldn’t let himself break.

“I’m doing this for your guys saftey! It was either this or I lost you guys too!” Leo shouted back a bit, overwhelmed by his own feelings as well. The answer left you baffled as you stared at him in shock, “d-did you.... did you consider any of our feelings when you decided to leave us Leo?...when you left me?...”, you asked, searching for an answer as you stared into his dull eyes. You watched his gaze shift shamefully almost as if intimidated by yours. “Of course I did... and you know I did” Leo responded almost as if he seemed offended by the question, “it was the only way....”. Leo felt guilt wash over him as you scoffed and looked around in disbelief as if looking for someone to confirm it. Returning you attention back to him you were silent, somewhat silently remenising about who he used to be. You missed him, you missed the comfort, the smiles, the laughter and happiness your former lover brought you, his brave and protective ways, his arms around you and his lips on yours as comfort or in the most intimate moments. You missed Leo, but this wasn’t him.

Tears proceeded to roll down your cheeks, eyes becoming red “...how could you do this?...”, you said, voice quiet and shaky. Your tone left Leo wishing he could take you in his arms and hide you from all the bad that’s become of the world, that he helped cause which he hated himself for it.

“I’m sorry (y/n)...” Leo spoke, a bit choked up himself. You stepped back a bit as you shook your head quietly. “I-I have to go” you spoke quickly before rushing back to the window you entered through, “wait! (Y/n)-”. You didn't want to go, in fact you wanted to stay beside Leo and have him in your life again but right now, it was all too much, seeing him was only pain.

Leo stood now in eerie silence as he stared at the window you exited, silently hoping you would come back through, come back to him. He knew you wouldn't though and he had to accept that. It was the price he paid for his decision and his families safety, but had it really be worth it?

// kind of out of the blue and for fun, hope you enjoy :)

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt headcanons #tmnt leonardo #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #angst #leonardo x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Bay/rise 37!! @errorfreak88 @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @brightlotusmoon @yarchurr @dakotafinely @sententiously-sarcastic @sprinklestheditty

Content warnings!! Mentions of death

The ringing in Leo’s ears was deafening. After his humiliating defeat, the best thing he could think to do was find someplace quiet to think. The single place in the lair that offered such solitude was Splinter’s room— the only single-person bedroom in the entirety of their home. It was small and Leo could barely fit through the doorway, and laying on the bed made him feel colossal, but he didn't care. He buried his face in the pillow and it smelled like his father and that was all that he cared about.

He didn't care about losing the spar. Sure, it was a bad sting to his self esteem, but at least his dad hadn’t been there to see it. But maybe if Splinter was there he could have talked some sense into Leo before he made a fool of himself in front of his brothers. He didn't know what he was doing and he admitted that to none but himself. He had been leader for almost four years— and even before then he had always taken well to bossing his brothers around. That’s why he had been made leader in the first place! Because Splinter saw something in him and chose to highlight that above all his flaws and faults. Leo still didn't know why!

As a kid, though he had always taken charge, his personality wasn’t just that. Not like what he was reduced to now. He remembered running the sewers with his brothers and mapping out the tunnels with their minds alone and how he was always the one who could find the way home even when Donnie’s techniques failed. He remembered Splinter taking them up to the storm drains so they could watch the parades go by in the streets. The colors, the people dancing, the music sounding off and filling Leo with such a bubbly, warm joy that he just wanted to dance along to any song that carried down the tunnels.

That was what ninjitsu was to him at first. Dancing. Memorizing the moves and following through as fluid and free as the dancers he saw on the streets and in movies. Trying to emulate what he saw— feeling the melody in the very blood that coursed through his veins. Then a fun hobby turned into an obligation. It wasn’t a game anymore— it wasn’t something to enjoy or a fun thing to practice in his free time. It was his duty, his responsibility. His honor. And he couldn’t let his father down!

He wasn’t human and he could never be human. He shouldn’t want to be human! He was a turtle— he was a mutant— he was Splinter’s son! He had to live up to all the stories he was told about how great he would be and he had to live up to his father’s expectations and he had to live up to what the people in the city needed him to be! He didn't need to dance, he didn't need to like his work—he shouldn’t like his work! Work is work and work isn’t meant to be enjoyed. He was a savior— a messiah in the form of a grotesque monstrosity and it was him and only him that could protect his brothers and the city and the earth and he just wished the ringing in his ears would stop—

Then he opened his eyes again. The ringing wasn‘t just in his ears. It was all around him. An alarm— Donnie’s alarm— sounding a warning of some enemy approaching. Leo looked up and dried his tears just as Donnie came rushing into the room.

“Leo! An alarm went off in the south tunnel! We should check it out! Are you gonna…?”

Leo stood up quickly, shoving his way past Donnie and reclaiming his swords on the way to the entry tunnel. He didn't dare look up at any of his brothers or their counterparts as he passed them by. He was a leader and he had to be strong and silent and he wasn’t allowed to cry. He wasn’t allowed to be weak. He had to be the best— he was the best! Even if Leonardo had beaten him.

They traversed the tunnels in silence. Leo’s brothers were all gathered around him, Mikey with his head hung low like a puppy and remarkably silent. Donnie gave Leo space instead of being right at his side as usual, and Raph put some distance between himself and his Leo for completely different reasons. He needed a chance to cool off before he strangled Leo for how the stubborn leader had been acting the past few dates. He could strangle him later, Raph told himself. Just wait until the sensei’s are safe.

Leonardo was in the lead of his family, Michelangelo clinging to his arm for security against the rushing water that tried to force him off his feet. Leonardo, slippery as he was, always had a better grip under the water than the land-dwelling box turtle could hope to achieve. Donatello was tapping away on his watch, though Michelangelo was half convinced that it was actually just a game. In the place of Raphael, who’s exhaustion couldn’t be moved even by the loud scream of the alarm, was April taking up the rear. She had yet to get her special baseball back, though whoever this Casey Jones was had promised to get it out of police holding for her. In its place she had a new, regular bat covered in nails. Not as effective as her mystic bat, but she was sure it could pack a punch nonetheless.

They came to the place where the alarm had gone off. All eight of them slowly came to a halt when they saw the intruder just standing there, calm as day, as if he had been waiting for them quite some time. Leo and his brothers all took an audible gasp as they stepped back, Leo putting his arms out to protect those behind him. Leonardo and his family, however, gasped for a whole different reason.

“HUESO!”

Despite Leo’s wide motion for them all to stay behind him, Leonardo lead his family to all ignore the leader and dash forward under Leo’s arms to greet the skeleton man. Hueso looked filthy, his normally flawless suit stained with the sewage he had to wade through and dripping even after he had found an almost-dry spot to stand on.

“Oh Hueso! Es bueno verte! I can’t believe you’re here! I’d hug you if you weren’t so gross!” Leonardo laughed and held his arms out for a social-distanced hug.

“Yes, I’d do the same if not for similar reasons.” Hueso grumbled under his breath.

“How’d you get here Hues?” April asked, walking closer to the calaca than Leonardo dared.

“It is a very long story.”

***

“You go on ahead Cassandra. I got some loose ends to tie up.”

When Cassandra left through the rift and the portal closed behind her, only then did Draxum put Hueso back on the ground and release his vice-grip. Hueso gasped softly as he clutched at his throat, his eyes full of hate and locked on Draxum like he were the scum of the earth.

“What do you want from me?” Hueso asked finally, his eyes never once leaving the sheep yokai.

“We have a common means, calaca.” Draxum said, calm and steady. “I hear you are fond of the one called Leonardo.”

“Fond?” Hueso laughed, “I wouldn’t much call it fond as I would call it a... hostage situation.”

“But you know of him. You care for him?” Draxum made a fist and raised it to the air. “You are a very clever Yokai, I can tell. And I could trust no other with a message as important, and to accept what I am about to ask of you would ensure riches and safety for you and your family.”

A glint came to Hueso’s eyes. “What is your request?”

“My creations think me cruel. They know not of my plans, and I need a carrier to bring the news to them so we may unite our forces to take down a common enemy.”

“The Shadow Fiend…” Hueso whispered softly, looking to the place where the rift had once been. “He is not whole. He cannot be defeated in the state he is currently in.”

“Yes.” Drauxm growled softly.

“He must be made whole again, and the only way to do that is…”

“A sacrifice. A sacrifice of Hamato blood will bring the Shredder back whole. He’ll be defeatable.”

“But the cost...”

***

“...would be great.” Hueso finished. “You would be able to destroy The Shadow Fiend once and for all! He sent me here to be your guide.” Hueso looked to Leonardo.

“So he’s not bad!” Michelangelo said quite loudly, his voice echoing all around them as he ran fast to hug Hueso, almost tackling the older skeleton. “DRAXUM’S NOT BAD! I knew he wasn’t!”

“You… you’re just…” Leo pointed at Hueso.

“Just a bone man, yes.”

“Hm.” Leo smacked his lips together as he nodded ever so slightly. “Okay.”

“Can I touch your bones, dude?” Mikey asked, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“That is extremely disrespectful.” Hueso spat, “You should show more respect to your elders.”

Everyone just stared at him.

“Well? Data prisa! We haven’t got all day!” Hueso started to usher the teens back down the sewer tunnel, his confidence and booming voice enough to compensate for the shorter and weaker form he had compared to the brothers. “Malditos chicos! Tan lento!”

The mutants scattered along at his urging just as they would if their Splinters had done the same. Hueso grabbed Leonardo before the blue ninja could get far.

“Talk with me.” He said in Spanish before they started to walk again.

“Why the Spanish?” Leonardo spoke with the same tongue and in a hushed voice. He hoped none of the counterpart-brothers could understand what was being said.

“We must talk of your father in private.”

“Splinter? Why? Do you know something?”

“I told you the ceremony requires blood magic! It requires the host to be bled and possessed by the Dark Armor. The host would be your father with his hamato blood.”

Leonardo’s eyes went wide. He stopped walking for a moment, but Hueso grabbed him by the arm and forced him to keep going.

“B-but if we destroy the shredder then he’d be free right?”

“To destroy The Shredder, we will have to destroy the host.” Hueso looked up at Leonardo with mournful eyes. “If we go through with this, then you will have to kill your own father.”

#OHHHHHHHHHHHH #what’s gonna happen?!#find out on the next installment #OF TMT #(Turtles Meet Turtles)

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thefeelswhale · 3 years

Text

Here is some Izuku POV in the fic formerly known as 'untitled Shindeku Soulmates AU'

The Nervous Energy in Everything - Part 2

There was no hiding what had happened when Izuku stumbled in his front door that night reeking and reeling from what was simultaneously the worst and best day of his life.

Best because he’d met All Might.

Worst because he’d almost died.

Best because All Might was going to help him become a hero.

Worst because… Kacchan.

Best because the gentle touches on his chest he’d been getting all day and all the feelings that came with it; wonder, gratitude, pleased embarrassment, and hope.

He and Kacchan had found each other in daycare of all places. The teacher hadn’t realized what was going on until they’d been made to let go of one another and she realized they had matching handprints encircling their wrists where they’d grabbed each other.

That was the last clear memory Izuku had of his first soulmate voluntarily touching him or their marks. Obviously they’d gotten along like normal soulmates for a while, but then Izuku’s quirk never appeared and Kacchan started to change.

Izuku’s mom looked up from her crossword as Izuku dropped some fliers he’d picked up out of the recycling bin onto the kitchen floor so he could put his grimy backpack down somewhere without making a mess.

“Izu!” Her hands flew over her nose and mouth. “Is… is that smell coming from you?”

“There was a villain attack.” He didn’t really want to explain. He was already going to have to, especially once he stood up and turned around so she could see what had happened to his face. “There was a hero nearby. I’m okay, but…”

He felt her hands on his shoulders as she turned him around. “You need to cha…oh my goodness gracious!” His mom broke off mid sentence as she saw the two new handprints framing his face.

They were symmetrical at least. His new soulmate had big hands and the thumbprints landed just below his eyes, framing his freckles between his soulmate’s thumb and forefingers. If you had to have a face mark then it wasn’t a bad one to have.

“Izuku.” Her lip wobbled. “What happened?”

“Kacchan…” Izuku couldn’t make himself form the words. Part of him could still feel the bond snapping; like he was caught in that moment and couldn’t quite push through it. “...he went too far today and I can’t... I couldn’t… I just stopped...” That was about as far as he got before being pulled into a hug.

It had been years since he’d been wanted by his own soulmate. He and Kacchan had been platonic even when they’d still liked one another and even after things had gone sour on them Izuku never had quite been able to give up on the idea that the confident little kid he remembered was still in there somewhere.

He hadn’t known where his own limits were until that afternoon.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You held on for so long.” She started to kiss his cheek and then veered off to kiss his temple at the last minute when she realized she couldn’t do that anymore. “It’s okay. Do they… do they seem nice?” She frowned. “Are they okay? Did they feel what happened --with the villain, I mean?”

It was hard to say. Izuku had gone to a lot of trouble not to trigger their connection after he’d gotten loose from the sludge villain. He hadn’t felt anything beyond the odd touch, as though his soulmate was checking to make sure he was still there. They wouldn’t feel much from his end unless he was touching his mark.

‘I should check in with them.’ He realized. He was almost positive they hadn’t felt the attack or his panic when Kacchan ended up getting attacked.

“Mom, I smell.” He gently disengaged himself from the embrace.

“You sure do” She wrinkled her nose. “Go change and take a bath. I’ll call the registry to update your profile while I see if that uniform can be saved. Oh, um. Do you have an idea of where… you know.”

“It’s their chest.”

“Oh!” She looked surprised. “It must be another boy then.” She giggled as he stared. “Even in a fugue I can’t imagine you being able to touch a girl’s chest without fainting. Remember that time…”

“Aaaaahh!” Izuku clamped his hands over his ears because she was going to try and remind him of the time he tripped and fell on Aunt Mitsuki. “No I do not! I do not remember any time ever and I’m leaving now!”

Izuku ran the bathtub heater while he washed himself harder than he had ever done before. The odor of sewers lingered even after he lathered up three times. After a certain point he wondered if it was in his head. He ended up dumping a bunch of his mom’s bath salts into the water before he got in to soak. Izuku wasn’t a fancy bath person, but smelly times called for smelly measures.

His soulmate tapped him again as he sank into the bath and Izuku finally felt calm enough that he wasn’t afraid he’d overwhelm them with his haywire emotions if he tapped back.

Izuku carefully brushed his knuckles along the thumbprints on the apples of his cheeks and got an immediate response; like a palm pressed against his sternum searching for his heartbeat.

He sank into the water up to the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut. This was new territory for him. Kacchan had started wearing covers in grade school so they didn’t get even accidental touches. They hadn’t explored their bond much before that and afterwards… well, Izuku had gotten used to being alone in his head.

Sometimes he’d wondered if Kacchan even had a soulmark under that cover anymore; if his side of their connection had broken long before Izuku’s had. He was uncomfortably sure he had his answer. Losing his bond with Kacchan had hurt like being punched in the stomach only worse, but Kacchan hadn’t reacted at all. It was like nothing had happened on his end at all.

In fact he’d been as confused as everyone else in the room when stuff started flowing out of his sleeve and a trembling Izuku pulled it back to reveal naked skin where he’d once been marked; seconds before he felt two phantom hands frame his face, soothing away all the pain and confusion with a radiant joy unlike anything he’d felt before.

It was like someone had been waiting for him and he didn’t quite know what to do with that.

That other presence was equally at sea and kept coming back to their connection as if they didn’t quite trust it not to vanish.

Maybe they didn't. People without soulmarks existed. They were about as popular as people without quirks and probably trusted unexpected fortune about as much as Izuku did.

He rubbed his cheeks again and tried to remember how to deliberately transmit specific emotions through the bond. It had been so long since he’d had to manage a connection that he almost didn’t remember how to do it, but he didn’t want to share his hurt. He’d spent all his time as a soulmate feeling unwanted and burdened by Kacchan’s bad moods. Happiness. He could do that, right? Or maybe relief?

“Izuku?” His mom tapped at the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I heard back from the Bond Registry. They think they’ve identified your new soulmate. Do you want to meet him?”

“What? Now?” Izuku’s voice cracked on ‘now.’

“Ah, his parents would like to meet up as soon as possible.” His mom hmmmed as she chose her words. “I think; yes, now. Are you up to it? You were attacked today and we haven’t even spoken to the police.”

Izuku was already out of the tub and drying off as fast as he dared. “Um, yes!” He realized he hadn’t brought a change of clothes in with him. “Mom, I forgot clothes!”

She chuckled. “I’ll bring you something. You get started on your hair, dear.”

Curly hair was no joke when it came to washing it. Drying it and styling it was a whole other story. If he could get away with it, Izuku would have buzzed it all down to a half inch like his dad only he’d tried that once before. His head ended up looking like a beach ball balanced on a toothpick. The teasing he’d gotten at school over it was brutal.

There was no way he was getting out the door without looking like he’d stuck his tongue in an outlet.

His mom had her cellphone caught between her shoulder and ear as she brought him jeans and his navy polo shirt.

“...no, I don’t mind hosting.” His mom was saying. He could hear her through the door as she walked down the hall. “I’d prefer it, to be honest…”

Meanwhile Izuku was staring at a bottle of Issey Miyake cologne he’d gotten for his birthday two years ago and had never worn before. He barely even shaved. Was this really the time to experiment?

Wait.

Had his mom just said they were coming here?

#shinsou x midoriya #shindeku #soulmates #The Nervous Energy in Everything #BNHA #erasermic

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sweetbunnykook · 4 years

Text

Only You (8)

Word Count: 12,827 // angst (mention of physical abuse/harm, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of murder), smut (brief mention of cockwarming and masturbation), no fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: I’m so sorry this took FOREVER for me to write. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please come scream in my inbox so I can scream with you! - 🐰

The red and yellow iron man figurine is snatched away from his clammy little hands, the harsh ridges of the plastic cutting across his palm to leave gashes that burned. Jungkook’s eyes are already glossy with unshed tears as he stares at the beloved toy in her grasp.

“Fucking useless piece of shit!” His mother screams, voice cracking as she throws the plastic figure at the man sprawled on the couch, a small pouch of belly fat pooling over his unzipped jeans. His dark disheveled hair and tattered clothing makes him look older than he actually is, earning a disgusted sneer from the woman. The head of the figurine hits the side of his arm but he simply glares at the child, and then at his wife, before turning away in silence. Iron Man lays on the dirty carpet, feet pulled apart, head dislodged from the neck.

“You think you’re the only fucking man in the world that works!? If I didn’t push out your bastard child, I would’ve left you years ago!”

Jungkook’s face scrunches into a frown, hiccupping as he gasps for air between sobs and hiccups. He knew he shouldn’t cry for the sake of angering his parents further but he couldn’t help it. Catching his mother’s attention, he steps back only for her to yank his small arm through the oversized superhero shirt and drag him across the living room. The child falls onto his knees, unable to help himself as the grip on his arms numbed his little hand in which he held his lunch bag.

“I’m sorry! Mama, I’m sorry! Mama!”

The soggy brown sandwich bag tumbles away from his grasp as his mother drags him into his makeshift room behind the sliding door of a storage unit. The shoebox-sized space is thankfully warm as it’s situated next to the hissing water heater. Jungkook’s mother pushes him onto the futon next to his school bag, empty cartons of milk, and mismatched socks.

“Don’t you dare make a fucking sound,” she spits, glaring down at the shaking boy who’d curled into the yellowed blankets in the corner. “You don’t want to upset mama, do you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, toes digging into the sheets below him. His ears are ringing, but he knew better than to disagree when her eyes become as red as the knitted dragon on his socks. Red means danger, red means silence.

The door slides shut with a bang and little Jungkook shakes and shakes, bent knees knocking into each other as cold sweat forms on his temples. He wipes his moist eyes with the back of his hand and curls into the corner, hunger pains wringing his stomach tight. He struggles to hold in his bladder and cries harder when he tremors once more and his pants turn dark with urine.

The room gets darker, the house falls steadily falls silent, yet there is still no food offered to him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed as the only window in the room is nailed shut with wooden boards; only the small amount of sunlight shining between the rotten wood tells him when to sleep and when to dress for school. Looking at the dark gaps, he’s disappointed to find that it’s well past dinner time.

He can hear his parents screaming at each other between bouts of silence, their voices lowering gradually as exhaustion takes over them. He’s glad that at least he’s left alone. When the screaming ends, there is moaning, sounds of flesh against flesh, and silence once more.

They must have forgotten he hasn’t eaten, he thinks to himself as his frown deepens.

Jungkook knows they are most likely asleep but he doesn’t want to risk disturbing the peace – the silence – that he can finally enjoy. If it weren’t for his hunger, he would be perfectly content staying still. He closes his eyes to the world and wishes on the lonely lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that one of his parents will awaken and at least take pity on him to throw the sandwich bag in the room. The roaches might have gotten to it first but he wasn’t in a position to complain.

Wiping away the dried snot on his face with the back of his hand, Jungkook looks up at the spotted roof and imagines a big studio like the one Iron Man has. When he becomes big and strong, he would have a drawer full of chocolates and another one full of clean and cool clothes like his classmates. He would be so successful and so cool that his teachers will fall to their knees and he will never have to do homework again. Even Iron Man will come knocking at his door to spend time with him – that’s how cool he will be.

Despite the growling in his stomach, Jungkook giggles softly. He discards his soiled bottoms away from the futon, being extra careful not to let the wetness touch his backpack, and lets his big shirt fall over his knees. He then rolls over to cushion his head with the back of his backpack. At least in his dreams, he lived well.

Some days are painful but some days should be better, he thinks.

“It’s a miracle you survived,” Taehyung says one day as he hands Jungkook a bigger share of his rice ball. Jungkook rolls the sleeves of his black Busan middle school uniform up to his elbows, knowing the smell will be hard to get rid of if the loose seaweed falls apart in his hands like last time. The cheap tuna Taehyung stuffed it with smelled like gasoline and they made it a habit to hold their breaths as they chew. The mayonnaise at least helps the mouthfuls of fish slide right down their throats. No matter how strange his lunch boxes smelled, Jungkook never complained.

“I hate them,” Jungkook whimpers as he chew, leaning the heel of his sticky palms against the wet boulder beneath as his older friend rubs the tender sores on his neck with a free hand. Several bruises trail down his spine and Taehyung knows there are more underneath the uniform. “I just want to get out of here.”

Their naked feet, exposed under their rolled pants, dangle from the sharp layer of rock and moss protruding from the side of the boulder. The sound of ocean waves drown their voices and they find themselves shouting over its volume. Jungkook jumps slightly when cold water splashes over his toes.

“We’ll go anywhere you want.” Taehyung stretches his neck from side to side to undo the knots, his steel eyes landing on the grains of dry rice rolling down the rock.

Jungkook looks at his dearest friend, truly look at him, and grabs another rice ball from the canteen. He coughs slightly when the tuna goes down the wrong pipe, taking a swing of the water bottle from his opened backpack laying at his feet. It was hard for him to sit still when Taehyung says such things so frivolously. In fact, Jungkook found himself annoyed – annoyed that these fantasies are way beyond his imagination and annoyed that Taehyung might not mean what he says and Jungkook is just waiting around for leftovers like the rice ball in his hands.

Jungkook kicks the side of the rock as he licks his fingers clean, scraping his heel along the ridges back and forth. His bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “You’re going away to med school later too…we might not see each other even when you get to college. It’s like…ten years.”

Jungkook can just imagine it. Taehyung, the miracle from a small town in Busan who surpassed everyone with his razor-sharp intelligence and sly fox charms. He’ll walk up to a podium for a white coat ceremony to attend the nation’s best medical school. There will be cheers and flowers everywhere; he bet even the president will show up for the ceremony because Taehyung will represent the rags-to-riches fantasy everyone wants. He’ll go on to be a surgeon full of pride and joy. He’ll marry a naïve but rich girl from Gangnam who will pity his hardships and they’ll have five children together and live in a penthouse. They’ll live on the top floor where they can look down at the people passing by like they’re nothing but ants.

And as for him, he might still be sleeping in that same storage closet next to the hissing water heater.

“I’ll take you with me.” Taehyung pushes the half-full canteen towards the younger boy, giving away his share, and wipes his hands on his pants. There are three giant rice balls left and even some pickled radish at the bottom. The food offering doesn’t make the younger boy smile like he usually do, his brain is so full of worries it might explode.

Jungkook shakes his head at nothing. The future seems so, so far away, almost out of reach. He can barely image his life without Kim Taehyung, the only genius the sad little town has produced this generation who ironically became his best friend and caretaker. There’s been rumors that he’d skipped four grades and grew up speaking Cantonese just from watching films. Jungkook hasn’t confirmed these theories himself but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. He had a future as bright as the stars while Jungkook knew, deep in his heart, that his kind is bound to be in the sewers. He’s forever looking up at the stars that Taehyung can collect without lifting a finger.

“I won’t burden you, Tae. I’m just trouble.”

“You’re not,” he runs his fingers through Jungkook’s dark cocoa hair with his damp fingertips. The younger boy trembles slightly at the feeling, kicking his feet to hide how much he’s enjoying it. “That’s what they want you to believe…but you’re not. We’ll get out of here together, I promise.”

“N-No, you have to go Tae,” Jungkook puts the rice ball back in the steel canteen set between them and turns, serious all of the sudden. His voice is cracking and his leg shakes up and down as he tries hard to control the rage and grief boiling inside him.

He knows what will happen. When Taehyung leaves, luggage in hand, to whatever top-tier college in the country with a full scholarship, he’ll end his life. He’ll take the kitchen knife and plunge it deep into his heart and bleed out in front of his sad excuse of a mother. His father can join in on the crying, or the celebration, over his corpse once he wakes up from a drunken slumber. Actually, they might not even notice he’s bleeding. With the piles of newspaper and dishes laying around, Jungkook would be nothing but bones underneath all that garbage by the time they discover his body.

Taehyung, gripping the hair above the nape of the boy’s neck, keeps him in place like a bothersome cub. “I won’t leave you, Kook. I swear on my life I won’t. When the time is right, we’ll get out of here together.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately, weighing the sincerity on his ears. Feeling tears sting his eyes, he leans his forehead on the older male’s broad shoulders to hide his face and circles his arms around his biceps. Taehyung nuzzles his chin into the younger boy’s hair and smells the salt of the sea in his scalp.

“I’m useless,” Jungkook says at last. He’d decided that Taehyung was genuinely concerned about him after all and not showing off. Those words were not like the empty promises he’s heard many times growing up. “I’m not smart like you. I can deliver milk and newspaper and that’s about it.”

Jungkook rubs his cheek up and down Taehyung’s shoulder blade, scratching the little wound on his cheek until it burned. He can still feel the buckle of his father’s belt ripping a patch of skin off the top of his cheekbones. He had considered leaving that day without a dime to his name but knew better to stay.

Taehyung reaches behind him and tugs his backpack forward, choosing to instead comfort the boy through a gift he’s been wanting to give for some time. He shrugs Jungkook away, earning a pout as the boy wanted to hear more honeyed words of comfort. His irritation, however, is short lived when he sees a flash of onyx and silver in Taehyung’s hands. He watches as the film camera gleams under the tangerine sun, the cracks on the side oozing a type of charm only antiques have.

“This is grandpa’s camera,” Taehyung says as he sets the camera down on his friend’s lap. “I want you to take pictures of the things you love before we get out of here.”

It’s not a gift, but a promise.

“You’re giving this to me?”

He nods. “Don’t worry, he ran off ages ago. I wanted you to have it…I think you’ll like it once you get the hang of it. There’s already a roll inside, it’s half used. I know you wanted that camera from Mickey’s but…this is good enough for now.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn bright red as he holds the camera in his hands, brushing his thumbs across the protruding lens and the square of white plastic in the corner. He didn’t realize that Taehyung paid enough attention to catch him staring at things he can’t afford. It was equally humiliating as it is flattering that someone notices his wants and needs. Although the camera in his hands is not as fancy as the one in the display cases, Jungkook is more than grateful for he would not be able to afford the basic point-and-shoot camera on a delivery boy salary.

He can’t help but think maybe this will be Taehyung’s final gift to him before he goes away. Maybe the older boy is just taking pity on him because attachment is an illusion that slowly dissipates as absence takes its rightful place.

That rags-to-riches fantasy happens to those who are smart and sincere like Taehyung and not to boys like him – boys who stupidly spend hard-earned money on Iron Man comic books despite needing money to escape.

“I can’t afford to buy film,” Jungkook complains because he knows he’ll burst into tears if he thanked Taehyung. He peers into the viewer with one eye closed. He takes a shot of the waves dancing under their feet. The cerulean blue, their tanned feet, the black rocks – he can already feel excitement bubbling within him when he’ll make the time to develop the roll at the school photography lab.

“I have a box of unused ones in the basement. I’ll dig it out for you later.”

“Mm…okay.”

He points the camera towards the setting sun, taking a snap just when two birds fly past him. The film inside clicks into place with a satisfying snap, making him giggle. He turns at the waist and points the lens towards Taehyung, who stares into the camera with a disinterested amusement that tugs Jungkook’s heart a little more than he feels comfortable with. To please the boy, Taehyung holds a peace sign over his cheek, shielding half of his face as his eye peers past the ‘v’ shaped fingers. Jungkook takes the shot.

“Happy?”

He giggles louder this time. “Very much so.”

Taehyung takes the camera away, enveloping his large hand over the boy’s fingers. He holds the viewer up to eye level, seeing Jungkook nibble on his lower lip. He knows what the boy is thinking. There’s no way he can look pretty with the wound on his cheek, with the purple bruise blossoming around his right eye, the chapped lips split open from his nervous gnawing. Sensing his discomfort, Taehyung reaches over with his free hand and tugs at Jungkook’s hair tucked behind his ears. His deep mahogany-black locks bounces forward like a curtain, shielding the injuries without effort.

“Perfect.”

The camera snaps once more.

You curse under your breath after splashing your face with cold water in the office bathroom. Work has been absolute hell in contrast to the newfound heaven at home with Jungkook. You swear there’s a force in the universe set out to get you; as one part of your life heals, another part has its wounds reopen. When Jin called in sick for a few days two weeks ago, you did not realize how different he was going to be when he returned. Something about the way he looks at you these days leaves you paralyzed, often times leading you to work entirely in your personal office instead of the open cubicle like you usually do.

You assume that perhaps there is something going on in his personal life that can explain his passive aggression towards you and your coworkers. Taking pity on him through your own self-talk, you complete his share of the paperwork without complaints for an entire week without earning a single ‘thank you’ or even a smile from him. He often walked back and forth in the hallway, dialing his phone with an aggression that leaves you wondering if the screen even works with how hard he’s pressing. Knowing he was the type of person to need distance during hard times, you didn’t push it.

That is, until he’s suddenly calling in the middle of the night and dragging you out of break rooms. The office is already short on staff due to Sora’s absence, you didn’t need to be reprimanded for laziness especially after you carried his entire workload and apologized on his behalf for mistakes in the software he was supposed to fix.

Honestly, you’re not sure why Jin is cold one moment, hot the next, and then absolutely boiling on some days. But you’ve had enough of it and you’ve reached breaking point today when you heard rumors for the first time that your department, usually praised for its performance, has too many unprofessional workers (it did not take energy for you to figure out people are talking about your little cat-and-mouse chase with Jin). Thus, it was a relief when your former assistant shows up at the office and gives you a break from the cycle of avoiding your childhood friend while saving whatever reputation you have left here.

Pleasant and giving as always, Sora brings sandwiches for the people in your department with no pressure to have the favor returned. It’s the first time you’ve seen your assistant since she took her maternal leave; you almost forgot about her despite receiving occasional updates about her condition and even yearning for her when Jin disappears from his cubicle or stares at you from across the room. To you, she’s one of the best persons you’ve worked with so far in your career. Although Jin is great at handling IT issues that arise too many times for you to wonder if the whole job should be thrown away, it was Sora who brightens the atmosphere with her rambunctious laughter and messy desk in which she was miraculously able to get work done at an unmatched rate. Sporting a small bump beneath her floral wrap dress, she greets you with a kiss on both cheeks.

As you take her in your arms, you peer at Jin leaning against the office fridge with arms folded. His public questioning about Jungkook stays fresh in your mind and everyone else’s as they quietly glance between you and him between conversation.

Almost every time he chases after you, the first words out of his mouth was your boyfriend’s name. It got to the point where you wish you’d wake up from this nightmare that will pass when whatever in his life fixes itself. You’re sure his irrational behavior, arriving from nowhere with the suddenness of a car crash, is coming from something else in his life. You are sure, one hundred percent, that this is the kind of asshole behavior that somehow manifested in your male peers back in college, not that you were ever on the receiving end of it. Until now.

Currently, Jin seems to be deep in thought, sporting dark bags under his eyes. His eyes meet yours momentarily before you pull back and gasp at Sora’s belly with the vigor of a seasoned actress.

“Why do I have a feeling you didn’t just come to bring sandwiches?” You tease while your coworkers chuckle, turning their heads towards you for a moment before turning back to their plates. There are only a few sandwiches left on the counter as you couldn’t leave a conference call until much later unlike others. Actually, it was the same conference call from the person who was disrupted when Jin pulled you out of the room for an “emergency” days ago. You were too angry to even listen to him then, and even angrier now that you’re here smiling after apologizing with a bow just moments before.

With the merry atmosphere dancing in the otherwise cold break room, even your boss sitting at the end of the table has a difficult time asking people to head back to their cubicles and corner offices.

“No, I came here because I missed you,” she squeezes your arms, dragging you softly towards the table scattered with sandwiches of all types. How unfortunate the lobster roll – your favorite – is all gone.

“Please,” you scoff and she laughs with that hearty, sweet sound you missed so much.

“Actually,” she begins, “I’ve been thinking of staying at home to be a mother.”

Your jaw hangs. “You won’t be coming back after this?”

Her face falls slightly at your question and you immediately shut all your thoughts deep inside. You don’t understand the first thing about being a mother. It’s only reasonable you hear her out first. From the corner of your eyes, you see Jin walk towards the coffee pot and pour himself a cup in his chipped mug that brings a spark of annoyance in your chest.

“I do,” she sighs, “but…I found out I’m having twins. Just last week actually. This entire pregnancy was a bit of an accident and I needed time to rethink my priorities. My husband is more than thrilled we’re having twins, you know how he is-“

You nod in sympathy.

“-but it’s difficult for me. I already have a toddler and now with two more…I thought about handing in my resignation soon. I just wanted to see you all one more time before I do.”

You place your hand on her back once you see the tears in her eyes, leading her outside of the break room and into the small walkway where sunlight from the open windows gives you a better view of her solemn yet saccharine face.

“You do what’s right for you. But I understand it’ll be difficult for you to get another job if you need one later with kids around. Have you talked it over with Alex?”

At the sound of her husband’s name from your lips, her cheeks redden slightly.

“He’s glad that I’m strongly considering staying at home. He always wanted to have a big family and we’re more than financially stable with his salary alone. It’s just…I’m going to miss work.” She looks up at you, eyes watering even more. “It feels like I have a family here. Especially you, I feel like I have the little sister I always wanted.”

“Oh Sora,” you sigh, bringing her in your embrace once more and letting her cheek rest on your perfumed shoulder. She inhales the scent of soft geranium and jasmine, letting it calm her anxiousness only further amplified by pregnancy hormones. If the rest of your coworkers found out how emotional she’s getting, they all will follow suit and cry along with her. “We’re still family whether you work here or not. I’m always a phone call away and you know the team will be here to help you if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she sniffles, “I’m grateful…really, for everything.”

“It’s no problem at all,” you smile. “I can’t wait for the babies to arrive. From the bottom of my heart, congratulations on the twins, Sora. It’s such a rare and precious thing.”

She beams at you, eyes glistening, her smile stretching wider as she takes your hands in hers and gives them an eager squeeze.

“I don’t even know how to explain it. Just seeing the ultrasound for the first time was, god I wish you were there!”

“Me too,” you agree, turning your head to the side to see Jin peering at you from between the gap of the door and the column in the corner of the hallway. “Alex must be so thrilled.”

She rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. He’s baby-proofing the entire house right about now even though I’m not even due for another six months.”

You giggle with her, thinking back to the time you walked into your home to see Jungkook on all fours, rubbing sandpaper to the edges of your coffee table. It’s too dangerous, he said when you stand in front of him with a fist on your hip, you’ll hurt yourself. His strong arms bulge and flex as he works the wood with the ferocity of a mad man. You wonder if Alex is in the same position on the floor, religiously rubbing sandpaper back and forth against the corner of the wooden table.

“That’s so funny,” you muse. “Jungkook baby-proofed the house once and made a mess of the living room…and I’m the farthest thing from a clumsy child.”

Sora raises an eyebrow, elbowing you softly on the side. “Is he dropping hints? You have sex regularly, don’t you?”

“Shhh! Sora!”

She cackles as you turn back and forth between the open door and at her amused face.

“We’re not even married, or even engaged!”

“Well,” she shrugs. “Do you really need to be married to have a child these days? Men can have baby fevers way early in the relationship,” she muses, thinking back to her college days. She seems completely different from the emotional expecting mother just a few minutes ago now that men are the topic of the conversation. Classic Sora move. “I conceived my daughter just a day before Alex proposed.”

You blush, tucking your hair behind your ears. For a moment, you think of your picture-perfect boyfriend on his knees rubbing your lower belly and cooing with his ears pressed up against you. “I guess not but…Jungkook and I aren’t ready for that yet. At least, for the time being.” You shake your head dramatically from side to side, bringing your hands up to your face. “All this baby talk is giving me ideas I don’t like.”

“Alright alright,” Sora waves her hand back and forth like she’s swatting away a fly. “I won’t be one of those annoying office moms that constantly pressure people into pooping out kids.”

You laugh, leaning your back against the wall.

A coworker from two cubicles down peeks his head out the door and urges for Sora to come back into the room. From the ruckus, you can hear your coworkers fighting over the last few sandwiches in a game of rock paper scissors. It seems people are also curious about the picture of her ultrasounds – which you didn’t realize were there before – scattered across the lunch table.

Everyone except for Jin, that is.

You turn towards the door as she waves you off and staggers into the room, just in time to maneuver around Jin who walks towards you while closing the door behind him.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he pleads, peering down at you with a heavy, foreboding stare that wipes the remaining laughter out of your chest.

“Can we talk later?” You move to the side to walk past him, only to be blocked as he steps along with you. You really don’t want to deal with him today when you’re having a good time. You actually don’t want to deal with him at all, at your wit’s end.

“You don’t pick up my calls and you almost always leave before me, if not right away. When I ask, you avoid me.”

Every word out of his mouth is true and you feel sick being confronted with it all despite how valid your anger is with the way he seems to want nothing to do with you when he returned, then wanting to bombard you all five working days last week. However, you’re not sure if the sourness in your gut is regret or anger; regretful that you stayed away from Jin like your boyfriend asked or angry that he is slowly getting on your nerves with his recent behavior. Anytime Jin approaches, it’s never about work or even about your friendship and always about your relationship with Jungkook that he somehow sees as unhealthy and worrying.

“Sora is retiring, Jin. I want to be there for her.” You step around him, only for him to grab you by the elbow and drag you further away from the door. You push him away, glancing at the end of the hallway to see if anyone saw.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jin questions.

“No,” you whisper-snarl, looking back and forth from the door to your childhood friend. “What the hell happened to you? Why do you keep picking fights with me when you know I’m going to react the same way?”

He raises an eyebrow. “With you ignoring me?”

You can feel the anger in your veins making your nerves curl. For the past week, he had been insufferable. You’d never seen someone turn from a friend to a stranger so quickly after you have to bear the weight of his eyes following your every move, leaving you unable to do any substantial office work without errors. Even then, you assume he must have personal business to take care of and needed the well-deserved sympathy. After all, Jin has always been a hard worker and you’ve never once doubted his work ethic, especially in this company where he thrived from your recommendation.

However, his newfound aggression has you thinking back to your boyfriend’s warning about how little you know about men despite living with one. His glare sharpens every time you leave early to head back home or when you take a quick call from Jungkook during your lunch breaks. His eyes seem to follow you across the room as you move back and forth from the copier to your office. You think Jin would be over this little temper tantrum of his until, just yesterday, he’d thrown his cup of coffee in the break room sink while you were on the phone. The sound of porcelain meeting steel and the anger in his eyes was something you couldn’t forget about and in your heart you knew the fury extended past you onto your boyfriend waiting for you at home.

“I know you obviously have an issue with Jungkook.”

“So now you’re ready to discuss?”

“Discuss what?” You scoff. “You claim to be my friend who watches out for me yet you can’t even be happy that I’m finally with someone who cares for me. Jin,” you sigh in exasperation, “look, I know you let your paranoia or whatever get in the way but I promise you Jungkook isn’t a liar or a cheat like Namjoon. You’re overreacting.”

He crosses his arms. “Are you so sure about that?”

“About what?”

“Him not lying to you.”

You didn’t like how serious he looked at that very moment. You’d constantly teased about how his classic poker face he kept from his agent days is the reason why he’s been single since the day he was born. It’s a type of unique hardened face that intimidates anyone smaller than him. Now that this sternness is directed at you, you’re not enjoying a single moment of it.

“There’s no reason for him to lie to me.” You’re confident in that statement and he can sense it by the way your spine straightens and your eyes brighten.

It tugs his heart that you feel so strongly about another man when he knows the truth. It hurts him to know that you’ll be ruined by the files he received from Hoseok and Yoongi sitting in his flash drive. Above all, what hurts him the most is that he risked both of his former coworkers’ safety to verify his intuition, an intuition you easily brushed off to prioritize a months-old relationship against his life-long friendship to you.

On the other hand, you can’t fathom just how much Jungkook can possibly keep from you despite being the most sensitive and loving boy you’ve ever met. A little over two weeks ago, on your balcony, Jungkook had revealed everything you needed to know about him and the reason why he feels the way he feels. He’d trusted you enough to tell you something that affected him the most, that justified his habits you were once annoyed by, and that gave you the reason to become more than just his girlfriend. Sitting on his lap, kissing his scars, and listening to his words, you knew nothing can stop you from loving this boy you met under unwelcomed circumstances.

Really, it was ridiculous that you never noticed the signs before. Jungkook had always cowered to your anger, always the one to put your needs first before his, almost never raising his voice at you except for the few times you were oblivious to your surroundings and endangered your wellbeing.

And here, your friend, belittles you the longer he doubts the validity of your relationship with Jungkook.

Jin’s lips part but you manage to speak before him, stepping closer to him as you crane your neck to meet his unwavering gaze.

“I need to set this straight.” You put a hand on his arm. “I appreciate you as a friend, as someone who has been with me for a long time and looked out for me. I know you’ve always been good to me and I don’t hate you, even if I’m more than angry at you right now. I know you care a lot about the people close to you.”

You see him visibly soften at your words. The tender, loving expression on his handsome face makes you weak for a moment.

“But I need to draw a line here. I’m a woman who can make her own choices about what she wants. I don’t need you to be this…bodyguard stressing yourself to protect me from harm. I know what I’m doing and who I’m with. For god’s sake Jin, I’ve been living with Jungkook for months. If he’d somehow lied to me, I’d know by now. So please,” you beg, your eyes going back to the laughter coming from the closed break room door to your best friend’s piercing eyes. “Leave my relationship alone. Let me land on my feet after what Namjoon did to me. I’m,” you sigh, “so happy now. I’m at peace. So please…Jin,” you squeeze his arm. “Please. Can we just go back to being us?”

For the longest time he stays silent, his eyes moving across your face as if he’s looking for something important.

He finds his voice when you step away from him. “…I understand. I’m sorry…for making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.” He takes your hands in his. “I’m really sorry.”

You offer him a small, sympathetic smile and bask in the warmth of his palms. “I’m sorry too, for avoiding you when I could’ve said all of this earlier.”

“I just-” he starts and pauses.

Jin looks out the window, focusing on nothing in particular. He can see the top of trees and similar silver rectangle buildings reflecting sunlight. He watches a few cars drive past the swirl path leading to the parking lot situated around the main entrance of the building. He looks back down at you.

“I actually wrote everything I wanted to say and…I was too chicken shit to read it out loud. I,” he clears his throat, looking down at his shoes. “I’m just going through a hard time. I know I’m taking all of it out on you. I’m really sorry, I really-”

“Wait, Jin,” you cup his face in your warm hands, immediately shedding all traces of anger and annoyance you carried for the last few days. Of course, your friend of many years would never hurt or anger you on purpose. He’s overthinking and lashing out when logic hits a wall of emotions, just like you had with Jungkook before. You’ve never seen Jin on the verge of tears until now and it’s tugging your heart painfully. “I forgive you, everything’s okay now, right? You’re still one of my dearest friends, I’m not going to be mad at you forever.”

Jin shakes his head. “No, there’s just…”

He freezes mid-sentence again, leaving you curious as to what his next few words might be. Jin’s eyes move frantically from his shoes to the trees outside. Sweat prickles his scalp as he considers the weight of what he’s about to do next, what he’s about to reveal to you. He’d considered and reconsidered his plans only to wing it all last minute. What good does thinking ever do for him? When Jungkook holds your heart captive, is planning worth the trouble? Or is it easier to play Jeon’s game with his unpredictability? Right now, Jin is convinced it’s the latter.

You watch as he digs into his pocket to reveal a small black flash drive the size of a rifle bullet. “Everything I want to say,” he swallows, “is all here.”

You feel glued to the ground by the weight of the object in his hands and by how intense his gaze is as it sets on you. If Jungkook can see you know, you know he would be furious. Jin takes your hand, revealing your soft pink palm, and places the flash drive in the center before curling your fingers around it. Even though the object itself is as light as a feather, the burden of his words lay heavy against your chest, restricting your ability to breathe.

He whispers your name softly like a prayer, rubbing his thumb across your enclosed fist. “Please read it all for me when you’re alone. I promise I’ll leave you and Jungkook alone unless you need me.”

“W-What’s in it?”

A love confession? Maybe Jungkook was right all along about Jin, about men.

Jin shakes his head. “Just read it. Alone. I went through a lot of trouble to make this for you. If you forgive me and want me to be the Kim Seokjin you grew up with, read it.”

Your fist tightens slightly as you take another step away from him. When you walked to the office this morning and found him staring into his mug of pitch-black coffee, you weren’t expecting anything more than the usual passive aggressiveness or being chased during lunch breaks between your boyfriend’s calls. You didn’t expect to stand here in front of him, wondering if the contents of this flash drive will confirm the doubts Jungkook had about him all along.

Noona, can’t you see he wants you for himself?

You dig your hands into your pocket and tuck the flash drive away, garnering the strength to finally look back into your friend’s eyes. Jin’s eyes are fixed on your pocket before they scour your face once more as if he were searching for something.

“What is it?”

How ironic that you’re the one asking the questions now.

Jin’s lips part just slightly before he digs his fists into the pockets of his black slacks and look out the window. It’s strange that he can’t find the words he wanted to say when he can finally be alone with you for once without raising the suspicion of others or, worse, Jungkook’s. The wind blows gently into the hallway, carrying with it the scent of wet leaves. He stares into the distance as you stare at him until a round of laughter interrupts your thoughts. You look at the break room door and then back at your friend who seemed to have turned to stone.

“I’ll make sure to read it,” you reassure him, unable to bear the silence any longer.

He turns back to you but his smile is sad. You gaze at him longer, unable to decipher anything that just happened in this lonely hallway. One thing for sure, you know the contents of Jin’s flash drive needed to be opened alone and whatever is inside affects you more than it’ll affect Jungkook. Something about the content is going to change you, alter your reality, and take the blissful filter you’ve been wearing for the last two weeks at home. The thought makes you feel queasy as if you have something dirty to hide, as if you’re committing adultery behind Jungkook’s back after he’d spilled his heart out to you.

It was Jin who turns on his heels and heads back into the room.

You dig the flash drive out of your pocket and hold it up to the sunlight. It’s such a small and simple plastic tool costing just as much as a tin of mints.

Yet, it scares you so much you nearly miss your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Jungkook’s name flashes across your screen and for the first time, you hesitate to press the answer button.

Perhaps you thought too highly of yourself all along. How different are you really from Yori or Namjoon when you can keep a man’s secret in your pocket while you live with another?

So far, Jungkook has learned that fear is a strong motivator. It influences you, shapes you, makes you create paths where there isn’t one. It crawls up the walls and knocks on your window as a reminder that there’s always something lurking in the distance. It’s why Jungkook believes in never settling when things get comfortable.

When he asked Taehyung to make placebo pills, he had done so in fear that you would leave him. Yet, this does nothing to settle his nerves. In fact, it makes him uneasy that he’ll get caught somehow as if the birth control pills he flushed down the toilet never melted. In his unease, he can imagine those eggshell white tablets sticking to the sides of the drain despite the chances being slim to none. One call from a neighbor about a clogged pipe and it’s over for him.

This is the nightmare that lingered in his mind before he’d sat you down in his lap and pressed your hand against the dent on his cheek. Three weeks ago, you listened to him attentively as he wraps you slowly around his fingers. He can smell himself on your neck, taste himself on your tongue, feel your touch so agonizingly sweet on his taut stomach. It pained him a little that you, the privileged girl from the world above, might trade love for pity. But you were so accepting and so understanding of his past, his dependency on Taehyung and you, that there was no way someone can come along and convince him you weren’t made for him. Making love to you, worshipping your skin and scent, has never been so otherworldly for him.

Sitting in front of the television and replaying the footage of you from the wedding that could have taken you away from him, Jungkook inhales and exhales slowly. He’d taken the time to clip Namjoon’s footage away so that all that’s left is you in the wedding boutique twirling multiple dresses to your chest, your soft wavy hair pooling over your shoulders as you do so. In a silk robe, you lift a ballroom dress up against the mirror, eyes moving up and down the charmeuse and tulle quickly to take in all its miniscule details.

He loves that about you. The way your eyes glisten and widen when something strikes your heart. It’s the same look you gave him, sitting in his lap on that damp balcony, running your thumb over the scar on his cheek.

It was especially painful for Jungkook to reopen his past wounds but in one way he felt the invisible weight lift off his shoulders. He couldn’t tell you everything – especially not about the strings Taehyung pulled for him to live a normal life – but he was satisfied that you didn’t mind one bit. He swears he could hear you purring and sighing softly underneath his chin, reacting with a slight gasp when he tells you how often he was hurt back then and how thankful he was that Taehyung took him under his wing. Although a small spark of jealousy ignited in his chest when you mentioned inviting his attractive friend for dinner once he’s back in down, Jungkook was more than grateful that you didn’t seem to mind how attached he is to the older man.

He wonders if you’d react that same way if he’d told you he’d lost his virginity to Taehyung a year into high school and that his first kiss happened on that same beach rock. He wonders if you’d react in the same sympathetic manner if you truly knew what happened before he was able to graduate high school before the world plunged into tar.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Jungkook’s hands tremble as he yanks the storage drawer open and dig out his shirts, undergarments, and jeans into the duffel bag. He has to make sure he doesn’t forget his winter clothes because he would be livid if he finally gets out of this house only to freeze to death on the streets. From between the cracks of the rotten wood plastered against his window, he can see Taehyung standing with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Taehyung looks around the house, at the rusted gates connected to the concrete walls that surround the perimeter, and the mailbox slumped over the garbage can. He looks at the messily covered windows and puffs out a smoke. There’s a similar slumped duffel bag next to his feet inflated with clothes and packets of food.

“I’m leaving.”

Jungkook’s mother attempts to grab him by the neck, unable to do so easily as he stands tall after he outgrew his middle school uniform. Her grip slips as fast as it comes.

“You ungrateful little shit!” She spits, reaching up successfully this time to grasp the ends of his hair as she shoves hard enough for him to stumble into the wall.

Relentless, Jungkook continues throwing his clothes, then his lunch box filled with coins and a wad of cash, into the bag.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?!” She sobs, throwing herself on the floor next to his shoes and dirty socks. She scratches the slits on her arms and proceeds to drag her nails across the floor. A wretched cry falls from her lips and Jungkook feels his throat clenching, his eyes watering. Rather than sadness, it was boiling hot resentment that keeps him silent.

He doesn’t turn to look at her. He knows she’s going to manipulate him, somehow, with her disgusting guilt-tripping shrieks and nail him against the wall to prevent him from moving.

She pounds the sticky floor mats with the heel of her palms, her voice hoarse. “I made you, Jungkook! I took care of you, I fed you, I bought your fucking clothes. And you’re leaving me with this fucking asshole,” she slams her hands down again, her head snapping towards the sound of the back door slamming open followed by heavy footsteps. His hands begin to sweat, causing the toolkit he grabs from the top of the shelf to slip and clatter on the floor.

In the distance, Jungkook can hear his father crushing a can of beer against the kitchen counter and throw it in the sink for him to clean like he usually does. No longer is he going to be yanked around like a puppet for these two sad excuses of a human being. How his mother was able to carry him inside her full term and give birth while smoking and drinking like a sailor is unknown to him. He’s grateful, at least, that he came out sane. He thinks with a sudden surge of anger that perhaps his mother’s need to have a punching bag was more critical than the inconvenience that the pregnancy caused her.

To her, his father coming back with the stench of prostitutes and alcohol always became his fault. It was his fault that his mother’s body isn’t as it used to be. It was his fault their marriage is dead. Above all, it was his fault for existing to remind them that they produced another good-for-nothing trash to add to the pile of garbage that is this town’s desolate population.

“I’m not coming back,” Jungkook grunts as he throws a camera and several rolls of film in the bag. “I never want to see you or dad ever again.”

His mother shakes her head over and over again, arms stretched towards the door as it suddenly slams open to reveal the lean yet pot-bellied figure of a graying man. His father looks down at the duffel bag on the floor, and then at his wife curled next to Jungkook shoes. His face seems lifeless – like a corpse – with bulging black beady eyes that reflect no light and a mouth set in a thin strip. It’s the first time in years that the man came to see Jungkook in the makeshift bedroom, usually taking the couch in the living room as his permanent place of residence. It’s where he drinks, where he watches the same television program about car remodeling, and where he demands weekly handjobs in his drunken stupor.

“You’re leaving?” He interrogates, voice low and tired as if he’d woken up from a slumber.

Jungkook nods, zipping his bag and glancing around the room to see if he missed anything. He didn’t own much but it pains him to leave his heavy stack of comic books behind. There was no way he could carry that with him across the country.

“Why?”

Jungkook looks at his father under the single light bulb illuminating the otherwise dark and swampy room. For the first time, he notices how similar they look. He has the man’s eyes, his soft yet chiseled jaw, and even the mole under the lips. If the man were several decades younger, they would be a splitting image of each other. The thought makes bile rise up Jungkook’s throat.

Why is he leaving? Was that even a question he needed to answer? One night with the Jeons and anyone will run far away. Jungkook has lived here for nearly a decade and a half and at no point during his residency was he able to remember a time when his body wasn’t covered with bruises or scars. It’s a miracle that he’s never broken a bone nor hospitalized after being whipped across his bare buttocks for years like a prisoner. The humiliation was far worse than the pain.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jungkook retorts for the first time, gaze hardening. “I fucking hate living in this hellhole.”

His mother watches as her husband swings forward and slams his fist down on the side of Jungkook’s temples, knocking the boy against the open drawers. Jungkook splutters a ball of saliva and blood and digs his arms and legs into onto the ground the crawl away. Unfortunately, the room had only so much room for him to move. The stronger male pulls him by the ankles, dragging him back and flipping him on his back for him to see the belt buckle coming undone.

Jungkook crosses his arms across his face and shields his eyes away from the light and those deep black eyes. From the gaps between his forearms, he sees his mother crawling towards him and yanking his pants down, digging her nails so deeply into the patch of skin where his hips meet the waistband that the scratch marks instantly bleed.

“This boy needs to be taught a lesson!” He hears his father say with a voice as sudden and full of viciousness as thunder, the first lash coming down across his arm. He cries out, spine stiffening as a he gasps into the side of the bag. His breath is ripped out of his lungs. The second lash comes down shortly afterwards across his thighs where former bruises had only recently begun to heal.

“He does, doesn’t he?!” His mother encourages, no longer seeming as distressed as she was before looking down at his scrunched and tear-streaked face.

“When I am done with you, boy, you are going to wish you were dead. You ungrateful piece of-”

A stream of thick liquid splatters over Jungkook’s trembling body, a few droplets attempting to seep into his eyelids squeezed shut. His pounding head gifts him with a vision so hazy he might as well stare through a dense blanket of fog. When his arms come down at his sides to hold his temples together, he can feel his veins pulsing beneath.

It takes a full minute for him to even understand what he was looking at. There’s a muscular arm holding his father across the chest to hold the man’s spine straight and another swung over his shoulders as a silver scalpel, following a trail across the neck, stays lodged deep into the trachea. Jungkook sees another splash of red fall over his bare knees as the stream of blood falls to his feet. The smell of iron is thick in the air when his father, eyes bulging out further than he thought possible, slumps to the side.

Pulling himself away from the weight of the corpse at his feet, Jungkook watches the figure rip the knife standing tall from the man’s throat and plunge into the side of his frozen mother’s neck. He watches her pale, skinny limbs thrash as if she’s burned before she slumps down next to the futon.

With a feeling he can only describe as akin to relief, Jungkook looks up at his savior.

“I told you you’ll need me here.”

With soaked hands, Taehyung gathers the boy in his arms and leans him against the wall. He watches as Jungkook’s face scrunches in pain once more and stray tears make its way down his baby soft cheeks. He takes his trembling bottom lip under his front teeth and shakes as he whimpers like a wounded puppy.

He is truly a puppy, Taehyung thinks.

The older boy takes his place against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, watching Jungkook with the same enthusiasm as one watches a child take its first steps. Jungkook, wiping the splatters of blood from his face, exhales and sniffles loudly before crawling towards his mother. He wraps his fingers around the silver scalpel from her throat and pull until her skull knocks back down to the floor with a thud. Bloods seeps from her wound down to his fingers and, with a sudden strength, Jungkook lodges the sharp end of the tool into her heart. She must have been partially alive as a throaty gasp makes its way out of her mouth.

Her blood is darker than he remembered from the many period-stained panties of hers he scrubbed with his hands over the kitchen sink. It looked like tar, thick and warm yet lightweight as it drenches his clothes. Remembering his state of undress, he curls his fingers around the waistband of his pants and pull it up towards his hips and over the scratches at his side.

Jungkook grasps the knife once more to push further and relishes in the feeling of it hitting bone. He realizes, with wonder, that his parents don’t even look like corpses in front of him but like puppets.

Maybe that’s how they saw him when they were alive – like a puppet they could throw around without a care knowing it’ll live and die under this roof.

Jungkook takes the knife and stumbles over to his father’s body with enthusiasm, puncturing the man’s stomach and dragging the knife up towards the breastbone. More tar-black blood seep into the flooring, flooding the horizontal bamboo until it ran underneath the drawers and the small shelf holding his textbooks in a neat stack. He grips the knife and plunges, again and again, into the side of the man’s head, gasping only slightly when the bone gives away with a small crack like a camera shutter.

Jungkook situates himself on his knees, heels digging into his buttocks, and looks down at his soaked hands resembling red gloves. He examines his nails, the cuticles darkening as the blood oxidizes in the swampy room. He blinks a few times, watching the red glow under the dim lightbulb above him.

He’s imagined this moment many times before in his fantasies, some much more exciting and drawn-out than what occurred like a fight scene from a Bruce Lee movie. But none of those fantasies included Taehyung coming to rescue him like he had many times before. None of these fantasies included such quick and boring deaths. He was hoping he could say everything he wanted to say to them, about how much he loathed them with all his heart, how much he wished he could watch them boil alive like an insect in a summer pond.

They probably knew but didn’t care.

Now that it’s over, now that there will no longer be screaming and tiring cycles of starvation and receiving the belt, Jungkook is rather grateful for Taehyung’s interruption. And he’s grateful that his best friend of years has never really hid his experience from him. Taehyung just merely waited for his slow brain to catch up.

There’s only one thing he could say as the room falls silent and still.

“Is this what happened to your grandpa too?”

It was with a sudden intuition that Jungkook asked such a question.

“This…and a little more.”

Jungkook slumps down to the floor, looking past his shoulder at Taehyung, silently motioning him to come hold him.

Reading the silence without hesitation, the older boy crawls forward and envelops him in his embrace, keeping him tucked beneath his chin as two hands grip the underside of his arms. He shields the boy’s gaze away from the bodies, knowing that the first time is always the most poignant despite him taking it so well.

“They’ll know it was us.”

Taehyung brushes Jungkook’s bangs back and tucks the ends behind his ear.

“They’ll find us even if we left.” Jungkook continues. Without looking, Taehyung can hear the pout in his voice.

“Are you worried?”

Jungkook nods, fingers palming the thick ropes of muscle beneath his grip.

“Don’t be,” Taehyung chuckles, his long fingers brushing over the small sensitive patch of skin just behind the boy’s earlobes. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook decides to take a long, cold shower after ending the call with you. It concerns him that you sounded exhausted over the phone but he expected it anyway as you’ve been working far too much this week. Your voice, so soft and gentle, makes him semi-hard enough that he finds himself palming the length of his cock under the running water to relieve his frustrations. It had taken him a substantial amount of self-control to refrain from asking for more time in the bedroom these days. As sweet as you are allowing him to nestle inside you and nuzzle you when you were too tired and sleepy to move, your exhaustion ultimately lead him to tucking you in his arms and make sure you at least get some sleep. God, how he wishes for you to run your hands over his chest and arms now.

Jungkook twists the shower knob into the wall and ruffle his dripping hair. He slides the glass door to the left, heaving a soft sigh as he examines the surface of the tub, the toilet, and the sink. The smell of sanitizing lemon cleanser still lingers in the air but he knows the scent will be long gone by the time you’re back from work. Next to the polished sink, he prepared a small basket of bath supplies – jasmine-scented bath salts, dried flowers, and a heart-shaped sponge – for you to pamper yourself when you drag your feet through the front door looking like death. Work has been rough on you and he was more than happy to handle all the responsibilities at home that you sometimes habitually do.

He grabs the towel folded over the slightly rusted rack erected next to the shower curtain (he reminds himself to replace that) and wraps the fluffy material around his waist. Stepping out of the shower, he grabs his cellphone just in time for it vibrates aggressively in his grip.

Head tilted to one side to make sure the moisture at the ends of his hair doesn’t drip on the surface, he answers the call with a smile.

“Tae!”

“Is she pregnant yet?”

Jungkook exhales softly, a smile dancing on his lips. The older Taehyung gets, the less he beats around the bush. “Not yet but she’ll be fertile next week, I think I’ll have better luck soon. How’ve you been? Jimin told me you were in Cuba…and Hong Kong too.”

He hears a sigh over the speakers and chews on his bottom lip. Oh, Jimin is going to get an earful for sure for blabbering his business around.

“I had to deal with a few people…listen,” his voice lowers suddenly, “has anyone approached you or your girlfriend recently?”

Jungkook walks into the bedroom, turning off the bathroom lights with his elbow on the way out. He sits at the edge of the bed, combing his hair back until the droplets trail down his spine and shoulder blades.

“Not that I know of,” he shakes his head, “why do you ask?”

When Taehyung doesn’t reply immediately, a pang of anxiety wraps his heart in a vice grip.

“I-is there someone after me?” He grips his phone.

A few thousand miles away, the older man shakes his head, re-evaluating what he needs to hide or reveal. He wants Jungkook to be prepared for emergencies but after discovering that this Kim Seokjin person is in the same city and, out of a strange coincidence that may not be a coincidence, worked in the same building as you, he’s come to a logical conclusion that makes the situation unpredictable. A basic background check tells him that Seokjin no longer works for the government nor does he have permission to access private health and criminal records of strangers. It explains why the man needed to contact Hoseok and Yoongi. The motive behind such an unethical behavior could also be because of you, Taehyung guesses when he scrolled through Seokjin’s social media profiles to see more than a few pictures of him and you at cocktail parties and birthday gatherings. It did not take much deduction to understand that Taehyung is staring at the jealous male figure that his closest friend complained of lingering around his precious noona. Perhaps the man is using unethical means to dig for the literal skeletons in Jungkook’s closet?

However, if Jungkook sees the man as a threat and if Seokjin has evidence in his possessions, why has neither of the men taken drastic action? Jungkook is far too immature (Taehyung admits) to not consider using his services to take care of a male threat. He seems unusually at peace with you now, leading Taehyung into a wall. If Jungkook isn’t truly threatened and if Seokjin hasn’t acted yet, the former agent is probably smart enough to realize you’re not worth the trouble of dealing with a criminal. The contents of Jungkook’s case must have scared him off. Yes, that’s it.

Taehyung mentally slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking through before calling and worrying the boy.

“Tae? Are you still there?”

That bug he planted in the software used to track juvenile criminal cases lent him more paranoia than relief. There were numerous times Jungkook and his files were accessed by agents that were actively filtering or attempting to study old cases to his annoyance. Maybe the pictures scared Seokjin off for good. Two weeks is too long of a wait to expose a man when there’s an abundance of evidence.

“You don’t have to worry. I was asking because someone messed up a shipment and my customer isn’t very happy. Sent some threats that sounded a little too serious than the usual.”

Jungkook exhales a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding. “…I mean…it sounded serious enough to worry you. Should I keep watch? Should I tell Jimin?”

“No, no need for that. I called to check, just in case. You know nothing is guaranteed in our line of work.”

The thought makes Jungkook upset. Nothing is guaranteed, but he hopes your devotion and Taehyung’s safety is. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without the both of you.

“Okay…” Jungkook looks down at his toes clenching into the floor. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything wrong, right?”

To that, Taehyung replies quickly. “Of course. We’re brothers after all.”

He smiles to that, brushing his locks back and standing. He makes his way towards the closet, fishing out a pair of black sweatpants and a matching cashmere shirt.

Hearing the ruffle of clothes through the phone, Taehyung makes the decision not to tell you about Kim Seokjin after all. With the expectation of pregnancy and Jungkook’s proneness to jealousy, he didn’t need more work on his plate. Despite the brotherhood, they each had their own lives after all and constant surveillance of the past would do more harm than good, reopen wounds that have longed healed.

“I’m catching a flight, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Jungkook beams. He suddenly looks forward to the day he’ll introduce Taehyung to you if there’s business that needs to be done in the city. “Bye, Tae-”

The doorbell rings, prompting Jungkook to turn towards the opening where he can see past the living room to partial front door. By the time the bell rings a second time, Taehyung has already dropped the call. Jungkook makes his way out of the bedroom slowly, keeping his feet light.

Taehyung has already reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. Being approached by someone seems unlikely if this customer of his had expressed similar threats in the past. Yet, somewhere in his gut, he couldn’t fight the feeling that there’s something he isn’t noticing. And the answer to that feeling might be on the other side of the door.

When he reaches the panel, he presses the button next to the monitor to reveal the image of a neatly dressed middle-aged woman carrying a small, wrapped box in her hands. He can tell just from her clothes that she belongs to this part of the town – her posture itself reflects wealth and respect.

It took a few more blinks until he realizes who he’s looking at.

Mother-in-law!

The door opens with a loud clang, causing the woman’s head to snap upwards at the tall man smiling down at her. She notes his damp hair and handsome features – doe eyes, a button nose, pink shapely lips and aristocratic cheekbones. You sure know how to pick your men.

“Are you…Jungkook?” The woman inquires.

He nods eagerly, stepping to the side. “Yes, you’re noona’s mother, right? Please come in.”

He notices the hesitation followed by a pair of Celine heels clicking against the polished floors. He mentally rewards himself for dedicating the morning to polish the bathroom, the kitchen, and the parquet. The house smells a bit like lemon but the balcony carried the scent of orange blossoms that masked the unpleasant sharp notes of artificial fruit.

The woman’s eyes move across the living room, eyebrows slightly raised as if she was bracing herself to witness a pig sty instead of a home.

“What time does she get off work?”

Jungkook closes the door and hovers an arm across her back to lead her towards the sofa. She’s about the same height as you, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. He silently hopes the furniture doesn’t smell like sweat as he’s been melting there with the television on for the first half of the afternoon.

“A-about nine, she’s been working overtime for this week.” His knees hit the side of the couch but any hint of pain is overridden with the need to impress. “Please take a seat, I’ll bring you some water.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, although the light doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jungkook backs slowly towards the kitchen and then jogs to the fridge, yanking the door open and fetching a cool bottle of water. His hands shake when he fishes a glass from the dish rack, making sure he chose the glass without the uneven bottom. He should have refunded the entire set months ago when it came with such a frustrating defect.

He quickly pours into the cup and wipes any stray droplets on the side of the glass with the back of his hand. She thanks him under her breath when he sets the cup in front of her with a wooden coaster propped underneath. She takes the glass in her hands and take a small sip, smacking her lips together as if she’s tasting wine.

Jungkook struggles to look for the right words to say.

“I brought marinated crabs,” she thrusts the neatly packed box towards him, “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Jungkook’s smile couldn’t have been any larger as he takes the wrapped box from her with both hands. “Thank you so much…I’m sorry I don’t have anything prepared. I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

At that, your mother clears her throat. “I came to talk to you about my daughter. Without her knowing, you see. I’m sure you know we…haven’t been on speaking terms for a while.”

Jungkook nods, placing the box on the table and gathering his hands in his lap. Despite keeping close watch on your every move, he’s kept in the dark about your family situation. He only remembers you shaking with laughter and tears when hearing about your mother maintaining close ties with the Kim family after what happened. Even though the woman hurts for her daughter, financial ties are hard to break.

“…Yes, I’m aware.”

The older woman sighs softly, dragging her gaze across Jungkook’s expression and posture. The boy certainly is polite but it was obvious he was not from the kind of world you’re from. She can tell by the way he fidgets and seem too eager to please; it was endearing but also pathetic to watch. He’s extremely sweet and charming – she admits – and overwhelmingly so. Unlike Namjoon, he seems to be much more expressive and sensitive.

She can understand why you took such a liking to him, why you could overlook the not-so-pleasant behavior that reveals his poor upbringing.

“I wanted to come to tell you…I found someone for her.”

He smiles, not understanding the woman for a few moments until her solemn eyes met his. He can feel his belly clenching as his stomach drops. He must have misheard, that’s it. “I-I’m sorry?”

Your mother takes another sip from her glass, looking around the house once more, as if she were stalling time, before planting her eyes on Jungkook’s appalled expression. She seems guilty, at least, that she’s said such a thing to the boy although she’s never once held a high opinion of him.

“I’ve been looking for a suitable partner for her.” She continues. “I am aware she is rightfully upset with me and she won’t listen to me, much less talk. I know she was seeing several men before she became…serious with you.”

Jungkook can feel his stomach churning.

“You must know by now what kind of family she comes from. There are some…things that are expected of her to respect our traditions. I know it’s entirely unfair of me to-”

Jungkook stands, turning away from her as he brings a hand up to his mouth. His temples pulse with nausea as her voice grows louder.

“-come here and ask for you to understand! What you did to Namjoon did irreversible damage to my daughter’s reputation and as a mother,” she shakes her head from side to side, “I can no longer sit still and watch her make a terrible mistake”

“I…” Jungkook starts, his heart hammering in his chest. “What I did to him…I would never do to noona. I’d never hurt her o-or even think about doing such a thing.”

The woman sighs, her eyes devoid of warmth. “I know, darling. I do trust that the incident happened because you were protecting her feelings. I can appreciate your sentient. However,…she’s my only child. As a mother…as her only parent…I have to make sure she’s on the right path.”

Jungkook turns, his eyes glazed as he bores into the box sitting on the couch. This wasn’t a present given for pleasantries, it was brought to cushion her true intentions.

“Jungkook…” The woman stands to stretch her arms out and hold Jungkook’s hands under her warm palms. He’s paralyzed, whether or not it’s from her insulting logic or from her general disapproval of him, she doesn’t care to know.

“I’m not your enemy. I know you love my daughter, I’ve heard of how much you’ve taken care of her. Please understand that-”

His ears are ringing. Jungkook can feel himself shrinking under her gaze. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry because he knows, deep down, how incompatible he is with you considering the two very different lives you both have led. Did you phone your mother for the first time in months behind his back after he told you about his past? Did you pretend to be okay even if it scared you?

It’s like your mother reached into his core and pulled every shred of insecurity he carried within him. Every night for the last few months, he felt like he was given permission to consume the forbidden fruit that is you, knowing there are consequences to his consumption. Your devotion, your promises, your endless compassion towards him – is it all going to turn into a mirage?

He knows since the very beginning that in many ways he’s incomparable to Namjoon and even some of your rebound lovers he had the displeasure of following around. A glance at a man’s wristwatch and he could tell whether they belonged to your world or not. Jungkook can only hope that the struggles he’d faced would give him the leverage others don’t have. He is willing to risk it all for you and make sure you won’t ever have to experience a single morsel of pain he’d endured.

“Can you give me a chance?” Jungkook pleads, voice small.

Suddenly, anger flashes across your mother’s face but as quick as it came, it disappeared. He could tell she was struggling to keep herself in check after several months of you ignoring her calls, her incessant demands to maintain the family image, and the burn of needing to sneak around your schedule to reach your new apartment herself. It’s the pent-up frustration of having the family pride stepped on again and again by you that has led her to this moment.

If he were your guardian, he’d also be worried too. He can forgive your mother just as he had forgiven you many times.

“A chance?” She fumes.

Jungkook nods. “I promise I won’t disappoint you…I-I have a business and I’m more than willing to be the sole provider-”

The woman’s hand tighten around his relaxed fists.

“Jungkook,” she grits. “You are not hearing me. I don’t want her marrying into a family out of our circle. We have an established tradition of-”

Jungkook scoffs, ripping his hands away. “No, ma’am. You are not hearing me.”

Her eyebrows come together as her foundation-covered wrinkles deepen with a frown. She watches Jungkook walk across the living room to the hanging picture of you and your father. You were a mere child then, staring naively up at your late father with wonder as your little fists reach up to take the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

Digging his hands inside his pocket and running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, he turns to the woman.

“I’m asking for a chance because I’ve already decided to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

#bunny:fic #yandere bts #yandere fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #only you #chapter 8 #i had to make a super hard decision to take out the smut that I wrote like over a thousand words for *WHEEEZEEEEE*#there will be smut in OY9 tho i GUARANTEE #pls don't come for me with pitchforks lmfao

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mytwilightimagines13 · 3 years

Text

Memories from the past (Part five)(Caius Volturi)

Word count: 2043

The street was very narrow, cobbled with the same colour stones as the faded cinnamon brown buildings that darkened the street with their shade. It had the feel of an alleyway. Red flags decorated the walls, spaced only a few yards apart, flapping in the wind that whistled through the narrow lane. It was crowded, and the foot traffic slowed our progress. We found another street at the end. The buildings were taller here; they leaned together overhead so that no sunlight touched the pavement—the thrashing red flags on either side nearly met. The crowd was thicker here than anywhere else. We continued the walk through the shadows, even when we reached the plaza with the clock tower in the middle. Coming out of the dark lane, I was blinded by the brilliant sunlight beating down into the principal plaza. The wind whooshed into me, flinging my hair into my eyes and blinding me further. I pushed urgently toward it, not realizing till I bruised my shins against the bricks that there was a wide, square fountain set into the center of the plaza. I glanced up at the clock again. Some sort of pull lured me towards it.

A deep, booming chime echoed through the square. It throbbed in the stones under my feet. Children cried, covering their ears. Alice pulled me towards them back into the shadows. The clock tolled again. We ran past a child in his mother's arms—his hair was almost white in the dazzling sunlight. A circle of tall men, all wearing red blazers, called out warnings as we barrelled through them. The clock tolled again. On the other side of the men in blazers, there was a break in the throng, space between the sightseers who milled aimlessly around me. My eyes searched the dark narrow passage to the right of the wide square edifice under the tower. I couldn't see the street level—there were still too many people in the way. The clock tolled again. It was hard to see now. Without the crowd to break the wind, it whipped at my face and burned my eyes. That was the way we went, towards even more shadows. Edward walked in front of me while Alice walked behind me, gently pushing me into the right direction. I was so mesmerised by the small town and the beautiful plaza it contained that I hadn’t seen the two dark shapes detach themselves from the gloom. "Greetings, gentlemen," Edward's voice was calm and pleasant. “The girl as promised.” “And no harm done. We made sure of that.” Alice said, her hand still on my lower back. "Very well. Shall we take this conversation to a more appropriate venue?" a smooth voice whispered menacingly. “Very well.” Alice said as she gently pushed me for ward. “I will take it from here, miss.” The smooth voice spoke again, walking closer towards me. “Very well, Demetri.” Alice said as she took a step back and the other took a step closer to me, now occupying the spot Alice just seconds ago held. I finally dared to take a closer look at the newcomers. They were both concealed within smoky gray cloaks that reached to the ground and undulated in the wind. The second, taller man still hadn’t moved, but I felt his glare on me. “How can we be sure this isn’t some trick?” he asked. “Your Masters can confirm that it isn’t, as you should know, Felix.” Edward said in a harsh tone. The one named Felix growled at him. Wait, what? Humans can’t growl. "Felix," the second, more reasonable shadow named Demetri cautioned. "Not here." He turned to Edward. "My apologies, Edward. We have had some… disappointments in the past. That is all." My eyes were adjusting to the deep shade, and I could see that Felix was very big, tall and thick through the shoulders. Felix and Demetri stole closer toward the mouth of the alley, spreading out slightly so they could come at us from two sides, forcing us closer into the alley. "Let's behave ourselves, shall we?" Alice suggested. "There are ladies present." "Enough." The voice was high, reedy, and n came from behind us. I peeked under Edward's other arm to see a small, dark shape coming toward us. By the way the edges billowed, I knew it would be another one of them. Who else? At first I thought it was a young boy. The newcomer was as tiny as Alice, with lank, pale brown hair trimmed short. The body under the cloak—which was darker, almost black—was slim and androgynous. But the face was too pretty for a boy. The wide-eyed, full-lipped face would make a Botticelli angel look like a gargoyle. Even allowing for the dull crimson irises. Her size was so insignificant that the reaction to her appearance confused me. Felix and Demetri relaxed immediately, stepping back from their offensive positions to blend again with the shadows of the overhanging walls. Edward dropped his arms and relaxed his position as well—but in defeat. "Jane," he sighed in recognition and resignation. Alice folded her arms across her chest, her expression impassive. "Follow me," Jane spoke again, her childish voice a monotone. She turned her back on us and drifted silently into the dark. Felix gestured for us to go first, smirking. Alice walked after the little Jane at once, Edward following her at once. “After you, mia bella signora.” Demetri said as he gently pushed me to follow them, my confusion most

likely clear on my face. The alley angled slightly downward as it narrowed. My mind was racing as my feet moved forward on automatic pilot mode. What was going on? Where these people some kind of cult? Would I be sacrificed to their blood lusting god? There was a loose curve to the alley, still slanting downward, so I didn't see the squared-off dead end coming until we reached the flat, windowless, brick face. The little one called Jane was nowhere to be seen. Alice didn't hesitate, didn't break pace as she strode toward the wall. Then, with easy grace, she slid down an open hole in the street. It looked like a drain, sunk into the lowest point of the paving. I hadn't noticed it until Alice disappeared, but the grate was halfway pushed aside. The hole was small, and black. I stopped dead in my tracks. “With all due respect, I refuse to simply fall to my death thank you very much.” I said, trying to find a way to run far away from these people. “No worries, signora. Just close your eyes and I assure you that you will be safe.” Demetri said as he gently placed his hands around my waist. I sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way out of this. I was doomed. Death was approaching with every heartbeat. “Very well.” I closed my eyes so I couldn't see the darkness, scrunching them together in terror, clamping my mouth shut so I wouldn't scream. I felt Demetri pick me up slightly and jump down the hole. It was silent and short. The air whipped past me for just half a second, and then, with a huff as I exhaled, he gracefully landed on the floor without a sound. Demetri stood me upright and placed his hand on my back again, ready to guide me forwards. It was dim, but not black at the bottom. The light from the hole above provided a faint glow, reflecting wetly from the stones under my feet. Felix jumped behind us and we continued our stroll in silence. The sound of the heavy grate sliding over the drain hole behind us rang with metallic finality. The dim light from the street was quickly lost in the gloom. The sound of my staggering footsteps echoed through the black space; it sounded very wide, but I couldn't be sure. There were no sounds other than my frantic heartbeat and my feet on the wet stones. The path beneath our feet continued to slant downward, taking us deeper into the ground, and it made me claustrophobic. I couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but it slowly turned dark gray instead of black. We were in a low, arched tunnel. Long trails of ebony moisture seeped down the gray stones, like they were bleeding ink. We hurried through the tunnel, or it felt like hurrying to me. At the end of the tunnel was a grate—the iron bars were rusting, but thick as my arm. A small door made of thinner, interlaced bars was standing open. We all ducked through and hurried on to a larger, brighter stone room. The grille slammed shut with a clang, followed by the snap of a lock. I was too afraid to look behind me. On the other side of the long room was a low, heavy wooden door. It was very thick—as I could tell.

We were in a brightly lit and unremarkable hallway. The walls were off-white, the floor carpeted in industrial gray. Common rectangular fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along the ceiling. It was warmer here, for which I was grateful. This hall seemed very benign after the gloom of the ghoulish stone sewers. The heavy door creaked shut behind us, and then there was the thud of a bolt sliding home. Jane waited by the elevator, one hand holding the doors open for us. Her expression was apathetic. Once inside the elevator, the three figures with cloaks seemed to relax further. They threw back their cloaks, letting the hoods fall back on their shoulders. Felix and Demetri were both of a slightly olive complexion—it looked odd combined with their chalky pallor. Felix's black hair was cropped short, but Demetri's waved to his shoulders. Their irises were deep crimson around the edges, darkening until they were black around the pupil. Under the shrouds, their clothes were modern, pale, and nondescript. I cowered in the corner, cringing against the wall, their red eyes freaking me out even more. They were most defiantly a cult. And I was the stupid lamb that jumped happily and unknowingly into their bloody arms. Bloody hell. Stupid lamb I am. The elevator ride was short; we stepped out into what looked like a posh office reception area. The walls were panelled in wood, the floors carpeted in thick, deep green. There were no windows, but large, brightly lit paintings of the Tuscan countryside hung everywhere as replacements. Pale leather couches were arranged in cosy groupings, and the glossy tables held crystal vases full of vibrantly coloured bouquets. The flowers' smell reminded me of a funeral home. In the middle of the room was a high, polished mahogany counter. I gawked in astonishment at the woman behind it. She was tall, with dark skin and green eyes. She smiled politely in welcome. "Good afternoon, Jane," she said. Jane nodded. "Gianna." She continued toward a set of double doors in the back of the room, and we followed. As Felix passed the desk, he winked at Gianna, and she giggled. On the other side of the wooden doors was a different kind of reception. The pale boy in the pearl gray suit could have been Jane's twin. His hair was darker, and his lips were not as full, but he was just as lovely. He came forward to meet us. He smiled, reaching for her. "Jane." "Alec," she responded, embracing the boy. They kissed each other's cheeks on both sides. Then he looked at the group before his eyes landed on me with curiosity. "Is this really her?" he noted, looking at me. Jane nodded, a proud look on her face. "Nice work." She laughed—the sound sparkled with delight like a baby's cooing. "The Masters will be so glad to finally meet you, madam. Master Caius and Mistress Athenodora especially.” Alec said, speaking to me directly now. I only looked at him in confusion "Let's not keep them waiting," Jane suggested. Alec and Jane, holding hands, led the way down yet another wide, ornate hall. Yup. I was going to die. To some weird BDSM cult… great. Stupid little lamb I am.

#caius volturi #athenodora volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #twilight imagine #twilight #vampire

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crystaljins · 4 years

Text

River lead me home | 06

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: This is like the third or fourth time I’ve forgotten to post the chapter LOL!! Anyway, we’re fast approaching the end and I’m so tempted to draw it out because I’m not ready to say goodbye T.T but i’m also reaching the point where i can’t even remember what happens in each chapter LOL I read the cute messages you guys send and I have to go back and re-read to know what youre talking about ahaha

Also I feel like there hasn’t been enough asks about Jungkook’s role in this story and hopefully that will change after this chapter LOL

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

As the three of you prepare to depart the next morning, Ayla catches Jin as he’s packing up the supplies provided to him. The Psittanurans had been generous in their rewards and you all have abundant supplies to last you through until you reach the human realm once more.

“I apologise for offending Jungkook,” Ayla announces, as she helps Jin sort through the various medical supplies the Psittanurans had gifted to him. He’s not entirely sure on the function of each object, and so Ayla had offered to talk him through everything.

Jin pauses in his examination of a bottle of sharp-smelling liquid to glance at Ayla in surprise.

“Don’t mind him.” Jin says dismissively with a warm smile. “He has the manners of a sewer rat. In fact, if you want to execute him for his disrespect, feel free to.”

Ayla’s eyes go wide, her bright yellow iris peering at Jin in absolute horror.

“I would never do such a thing!” She cries. “Do you not care at all about your wish?”

“My wish?” Jin echoes in confusion. He can’t say he has a specific wish- mostly for peace and quiet, but the timing for Ayla to bring up a wish seems strange. She tilts her head curiously to the side.

“Is it not your wish he must fulfill? Is he (Y/N)’s pixie, then?” She wonders aloud. Jin stares, completely confused.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say he belongs to either of us- he’s just kind of there. Like a toe fungus- hard to get rid of and painful to look at.” He snorts.

“That’s strange. Usually pixies stay with the creature who made the wish, but it doesn’t sound like either of you have made a wish.” Ayla observes. Jin pauses as he packs away the last of his medical kit- the niggling feeling he had felt last night about Jungkook returns.

“Wish?” He tests the word aloud. It does sound vaguely familiar- if he reflects on his schooling from before the war, he does vaguely recall something about pixies and wishes. But he can’t think what it is, and his memory is frustratingly blank.

“Do you not know the origin of pixies? I would have thought an ancient species like a guardian would know everything there is to know about the species that inhabit this realm.” Ayla observes. Jin frowns. Perhaps, if his people had not been driven heartlessly from the realm they spent generations protecting, he would have the extensive knowledge that Ayla seems to expect of him.

“Refresh my memory.” He says slowly.

“A pixie is born of a desperate wish.” She explains. “And their goal and purpose in life is to see that wish come to fruition.”

Jin blinks. Jungkook, in all the years Jin has known him, has never mentioned anything with regards to a goal or purpose. All he’s ever done is get into trouble alongside you and antagonise small, fluffy dogs.

“So, you think Jungkook has a wish he has to fulfill?” Jin questions. Ayla nods.

“He must. He could not exist otherwise. Although, it is strange that neither of you seem to know about that. Can you not think of a wish he must fulfil?” She asks curiously. Jin frowns as he recalls the night before. Jungkook had been frustratingly vague when discussing why you had to see the river. And casting a spell to force you to see it had been oddly out of character for him. Could his strange behaviour have to do with whatever the wish is? What even is the wish? Is it yours? Why have you never mentioned it before?

“I can’t.” Jin finally admits. “This is the first time I’m hearing about how pixies are born. So then, what happens when they fulfil that wish?” He wonders. Ayla shakes her head.

“I’m afraid that knowledge has been lost to time. No one has even seen a pixie in a very long time- they aren’t exactly common.” She admits. “The last one was probably the Saishta Queen’s pixie; it managed to convince two guardians to steal the young dragon prince. So, they have a bit of a bad reputation.” She admits.

Jin is silent. Taehyung had been involved with the dragon prince incident, he knows, and his new girlfriend had gotten dragged into the fray too. But as far as he knew, Taehyung had never met any pixie. And Jungkook, as annoying and pesky as he is, would never do something as awful as that. Not to mention it’s been thirteen years since Jin met the little pixie. If he’d had bad intentions, he could have acted far sooner. It’s far more likely that you made a wish and you didn’t realise you’d created Jungkook.

Still, he can’t help but wonder. If a pixie is born of a desperate wish, what was the wish that led to Jungkook’s birth? And what could Jungkook’s goal be in leading you to this realm, and to the river?

Ayla takes her leave then, bidding Jin a warm farewell and wishing him well on the rest of his journey. She leaves Jin alone in the little hut he had taken residence in for the night.

“It’s not anything bad.” Jin starts at the sudden voice and turns to find Jungkook sitting comfortably on the little cabinet at Jin’s bedside. Neither he nor Ayla had registered the little pixie’s presence, which is disconcerting to say the least.

“What?” Jin snaps, irritated by the way he was so startled. Jungkook stretches and gets to his feet.

“The wish. It’s not for anything bad. So, you don’t have to worry.” He tells Jin with a yawn.

“How come you never mentioned it before?” Jin asks curiously. Jungkook shrugs.

“Well, I can’t. We can’t speak of the wish or the owner of the wish aloud.” He explains. “And as for why I waited so long... I guess I was afraid. I don’t know what will happen to me when I grant the wish.” He confesses.

Jin stares at Jungkook for a long time, and for the first time since he’s known the little pixie, Jin realises that Jungkook is very good at hiding behind a smile. He can’t imagine what it must be like, having only a handful of people and some moths to talk to for thirteen years. Watching them grow up without you- not being able to share in the bonds and friendships they formed.

“Will... will something happen to you?” Jin questions hesitantly. Jungkook shrugs and shoots him a grin, but there’s a tired quality to it.

“I certainly hope not.” He answers, but the implication is clear: something might. Jin feels a tremor of unease at the thought.

“Are you guys done? We really should be heading off?” You call, popping your head in through the doorway of Jin’s little hut. You’re already sporting your hello kitty backpack and you’ve changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Jin wasn’t afforded the luxury of fresh clothes, but luckily the Psittanurans had some travel garments they could lend him. It fits a little strangely given their unusual body shapes, but their tendency to make loose-fitting, free flowing clothes has worked in Jin’s favour.

“Almost.” Jin says quickly. Jungkook flutters up to land cross-legged on Jin’s shoulder. Your gaze catches the exchange, and you arch an eyebrow. Obviously, it’s strange to see Jin and Jungkook getting along. But you brush it aside and offer Jin a smile instead.

“Great! Because apparently the river is only a few days away! Isn’t that great?” You ask cheerfully. Jin struggle to keep a straight face as he recalls Ayla’s words from last night.

“Hey,” Jin says slowly because he doesn’t think it’s right to keep such knowledge from you. “About the river-“

“Let’s get going!” Jungkook interrupts, leaping across the distance from Jin’s shoulder to your own like he’s an Olympic athlete. He stabilises himself against your neck and glares at Jin over his shoulder. The meaning of the look is clear enough- don’t say anything. Jin bites his lip- he’s not sure it’s right to keep it secret.

But something stops him. He doesn’t know why. Something about the tone of Jungkook’s voice when he confessed that he didn’t know what would happen to him... it lingers in Jin’s mind.

With a sigh, Jin shakes his head and steps so that he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

“Have you said goodbye to everyone?” Jin asks, because he knows you’d somehow made a whole bunch of friends during the festivities last night. It was surprising, to say the least. You’d never been the social kind or the type to win the attention of people you’d just met.

Or maybe you’d just never been in the right situation to do so. Jin feels an uncomfortable pang in his chest at the thought.

“Yup! So, there’s nothing left to do now except see the river.” You respond. You glance sidewards at Jin. “What were you and Jungkook talking about?”

“About your embarrassing crush on him.” Jungkook drawls.

Your eyes go wide, and Jin feels his heart drop into his stomach. He can’t believe Jungkook would blatantly throw him under the bus like that- actually, no. He can believe that.

“I... I...” you stutter, and your cheeks glow red and if the darn pixie didn’t have such quick reactions, Jin would be taking great pleasure in flinging him through the air at the nearest tree. Your mouth trembles and you look like you’re about to cry and if the revelation of your feelings didn’t already have Jin feeling like the scum of the earth, then this most certainly does.

“(Y/N),” Jin calls hastily, already desperately trying to plan how to placate you. But then you swallow and stare at him with hardened eyes.

“I don’t have a crush on you.” You assert firmly.

The words die on Jin’s tongue. He doesn’t know why, but they do. It’s like you’ve just slapped him and he’s still reeling from the shock. He opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out- he just flounders uselessly like a goldfish that had foolishly leapt out of the safety of its tank.

And it’s stupid. It’s positively idiotic. But he can’t help but think… you didn’t have to deny it so aggressively. It’s not like... it’s not like your feelings are a secret! And when you deny them like that... it just sounds so convincing! Wouldn’t a simple “huh I don’t know what you’re talking about?” suffice?

You take the opportunity of Jin’s speechlessness to get a head start, huffily storming off towards the eastern exit of the village. Jin shoots Jungkook a glare.

“Very nice.” Jin snaps. Jungkook shrugs.

“It was me or you, man. And sorry, but I choose me.” He says simply.

Not for the first time, Jin restrains the urge to give Jungkook the solid flick he deserves.

Luckily, though you have a multitude of irritating personality traits, holding grudges is not one of them. It does not take long for the wonders of the next leg of the journey to catch your eye and before long you are chattering Jin’s ear off like there’s no tomorrow, about the wildlife you’ve spotted or about the weird plants. It makes him smile, because this trip is finally being enjoyed in the way you intended it to be.

For the first time since starting on this wretched journey, Jin realises he is enjoying himself. The sunlight streams warmly through the trees and gradually the metallic flora native to the Golden Plains starts to infiltrate the surrounding shrubbery. With your detour to the marshlands, you had essentially skipped the starlit wonder of Mountains of Delaria, but you will still get to see the magnificent Golden Plains as they are the only way to access the river after leaving the swamplands.

It’s so rare to see you smiling and cheerful. Usually you’re hunched and awkward, like a puppy that’s just been scolded for urinating on the carpet. But here, you’re bright- he’s even go so far as to say that you’re radiant, in the afternoon sunlight, surrounded by the mystically glinting metallic plants. You’re in your element in a way you’ve never really been before.

It makes a warm, fond feeling bloom in the centre of his chest. This is the (Y/N) that everyone has been trying to get back for so long. The girl with sunshine in her smile and bright, eager eyes. He had almost forgotten that girl existed but seeing her now- seeing you now- has him smiling like a dope.

“What will you do when you go back?” It takes him a moment to even realise he’s asked the question. You stare at him, a bit surprised, while Jungkook shoots him a look like he’s gone crazy. Jin almost curses his big mouth, but then you smile at him.

“I don’t know.” You confess. You turn your gaze to where a low hanging flower dips into your path. Its petals glint a wonderful metallic purple and when you run your fingers over them, they are stiff like sheets of metal.

Jin prides himself on being a bit of a smooth talker- no one can be as popular with women as he as without a bit of a silver tongue, so to speak. So, no one is more surprised than himself at the tactless words he blurts out next.

“Would you ever stay here?” He regrets the words as soon as he says them. What if he’s giving you ideas? His mum would kill him- your mum would kill him. And he’d never be able to visit- he’d wait a week and two years would have passed for you. Within a year, 120 years would have passed in this realm. You’d be long dead from old age by that stage. And yet... the question has been weighing on his mind without him even realising it. You’re so happy and at ease here- if you can’t ever settle in the other realm, does that mean the only place you’d ever be happy is here? His heart leaps into his throat in anticipation of your answer. Jungkook simply stares in confusion.

“No.” You say, and the firmness in your voice stills the panicked racing of his heart. “There’s nothing here for me, now.” You shoot him a furtive, shy glance. “Our family is in the other realm.” You remind him. “This was only ever supposed to be a short trip.”

For some reason, his slow, stupid brain lingers on the way that you say “our family”. Not “your family”. Or “my family”. But “our family”. Like the two of you are family. That strangely fond feeling from earlier returns, but with a vengeance, carried on the wings of the thousands of butterflies that decide to take residence in his stomach. Jungkook’s incredulous expression morphs, and it irritates the way he looks strangely smug at Jin’s sudden floundering. Jin suddenly finds himself missing the time he had with you earlier, without Jungkook there to eavesdrop and pass judgement.

“You seem really happy here, is all.” Is all Jin can manage.

You turn to face Jin fully and your answering smile is annoyingly bright.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years! Of course I’d be happy.” You remind him. “But me being happy here doesn’t suddenly make it my home. It stopped being my home the day that...” you trail away for a second, and your smile falters. “Anyway, it hasn’t been my home for a long time.” You say dismissively.

“So, what did you think this trip would achieve, then?” Jin asks curiously. “And why now, right after a fight with your mother? You know she must be worried sick about you.”

You grimace, staring straight ahead. The trees are starting to thin out, and in the gaps between the foliage, an endless expanse of blue peeks through.

“Are you trying to scold me again?” You joke. “I get that it was irresponsible. And selfish too. But Jin,” your expression as you gaze at him is so serious and sincere that for a moment, Jin doesn’t know who you are. It’s like an entirely different person gazes you at him. “I really, truly want to be happy for my mother. I love her more than anything. I want to be celebrating her marriage. I do. But I can’t... I can’t just forget about him. I can’t just move on.” Tears well in your eyes as you come clean. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been vulnerable and open with Jin like this and it surprises him to realise that he missed this. He’s missed having your trust and affection. He doesn’t know how he lost it, but he’s strangely relieved to know that he’s slowly gaining it back. “I’ve tried so damn hard. But I won’t be able to smile at her wedding or celebrate with her until I’ve said goodbye.” You confess. “That’s what this trip was. It’s a chance to say goodbye. So yeah, I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to be seeing the things he wanted me to see. But no, this isn’t my home- home is where you guys are.”

In that moment, Jin realises something. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t realised it sooner, with it staring him right in the face all this time. But never has it been clearer to him than in this moment- you’ve grown up. Somewhere, somehow along the line, you stopped being that little girl who needed him to hold her hand or stand up to her bullies in school. That’s why you’ve stopped looking like the girl he’s known all his life. It’s because you’ve stopped being that girl. And yet, at the same time, you haven’t. The person who stands before him is the young woman he’s cared for most of his life... but also a young woman he doesn’t know. Someone who can defeat Forest Spirits with her mind and infiltrate enemy encampments with nothing but her wits to save her friends. Someone who was brave enough to take the steps to recover after losing everything. And yeah, maybe you took a few bum steps along the way. Maybe you didn’t settle in as easily as he did. But you’re so much better than what he thought you could be- what anyone thought you could be.

And he’s so incredibly proud of y-

“Look out!” You’re shoving him to the ground before he can even finish the thought. He winces as he hits the ground.

“(Y/N)!” Jungkook cries, and Jin’s never heard that tone of absolute terror in the pixie’s voice before.

“Jin.” You gasp, standing where he had been a mere moment prior. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, until he gazes over your shoulder and he spots it. The arrow, sprouting from your left shoulder, right through the hot pink strap of your backpack. The blood, pouring from the fresh wound. The agony in your expression.

And he’s a doctor- he’s seen much worse in the ED but for the first time in his life the sight of blood makes him dizzy enough that he may pass out. You’re bleeding- you’ve been shot. Worse- you were shot instead of him. That arrow’s trajectory should have lodged itself directly where his heart had been moments ago, but instead you took the hit.

You took an arrow for him. He should be dead... but you... but you...

Time seems to slow as the colour drains from your face. You crumple, and Jin scrambles forward, barely managing to catch you before you hit the ground. He cradles you, his expression manic.

“You idiot!” He all but snarls. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, clinging desperately to the loose material of his shirt. “My body... moved on its own.”

Jin has never really experienced heartbreak before. For a guy who spends a lot of time dating around, he’s always seemed to escape with his heart intact.

But the weak, confused tone to your voice might just do it. If he’d known that it hurt this much to get your heart broken, he might never have risked it before. Nothing can prepare him for the sheer agony of realising you’d thoughtlessly throw away your life in exchange for his own. That the reflex is so deeply ingrained in you that you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself in the path of an arrow for him.

“Jin!” Jungkook cries. “Jin, they’ve found us! We have to go!”

Jin doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrabbles to his feet, pausing to hoist your prone form over his shoulder in a fireman carry and then legging it as fast as he can, just as the sound of a Saishta hunting horn erupts in the shrubbery behind you.

There is no living creature in this realm that can catch up to a guardian that has decided to flee. Even a guardian like Jin. Especially a guardian like Jin, who has desperation and panic fuelling his desperate sprint. You scrabble at his shirt, trying to stabilise yourself, and he ignores the way he can feel blood soaking into his shirt from where you grab at him.

He doesn’t know how long he sprints mindlessly, desperately across the glittering fields of the Golden Plains, but right at the point where his lungs burn and he thinks he may collapse, he feels you tugging at his shirt.

“Over there!” You gasp, and he turns his head to follow where you point with your good arm. It’s a slightly raised hill, with some sort of abandoned burrow. There are various megafauna that inhabit the Golden Plains and live below ground- this must be one of those.

Jin quickly decides he’d much rather take on an angry giant rabbit than a troupe of highly trained Saishtas.

The burrow entrance is small, and he’s glad you have sharp eyes, for anyone else would have missed it. But after crawling through, although you have significantly more trouble with a blood arrow sprouting from your shoulder blade (Jin just ends up snapping the protruding shaft so that you can drag yourself through) it widens into an earthen alcove that’s just the right size for two guardians and a pixie to conceal themselves.

You collapse weakly on the earthen floor, pale and gasping for breath.

“Let me see.” Jin demands, when he’s gained his composure enough to examine the wound. He’s still embarrassingly out of breath, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his breath back. He helps you into a sitting position so that your back is to him.

You offer no protest to him blatantly ripping the damaged strap off your backpack so that he can tug it over your other arm and toss it aside. It’s probably a testament to how much pain you’re in- that backpack had been a gift from Taehyung, and you treasured it like he’d bought you a diamond or something.

The arrowhead doesn’t go deep, thankfully. The backpack strap provided enough padding to reduce the damage, and your shoulder blade prevented the arrowhead from piercing through into your thoracic cavity. But there’s significant muscle damage and if you were a human, you’d probably have lost all use of the arm. Blood streams from the wound and the material of your shirt is completely soaked. But the bleeding has mostly stopped, though your back is sticky with congealed blood.

You aren’t going to die. Though you are weak and crumpled and pale from blood loss, you’ll survive. Especially with the enhanced healing your guardian nature lends you- if Jin can remove the arrow and stop infection from setting in, you’ll be fine.

He feels the strength drain out of him at that thought. All that’s been keeping him going since the arrow hit him has been sheer terror. Now, with the space to breathe, he feels he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.

He drops his head against your uninjured shoulder, and he feels you stiffen but you don’t crumble under his weight.

“You’re such an idiot.” He says, but there’s no real malice in his voice- just a broken, exhausted tone he didn’t know he was capable of.

A sharp jabbing pain in his temple startles him into sitting back up. Jungkook has kicked him.

“Maybe you can save the exhausted lover boy act for after you’ve stopped her from bleeding out.” Jungkook points out drily, his arms folded across his tiny chest.

“It’s... not that bad.” You grit, turning to face Jin. You’re pale and sweat pools at your temple and forehead. The pained expression on your face is enough to kick Jin into gear. Jungkook’s right. He doesn’t have time to break down now. The Saishtas are hot on your heels and you need first aid. And it’s nothing but open plains out there and golden, waist high grass. There will be nowhere to hide or escape once you set out for the river. If the Saishtas come across you, it’s outrun them, or defeat them. Jin doubts the three of you could do either in your current states.

Jin swallows and reaches for the satchel with the medical kit the Psittanurans had gifted him with. He’s just blindly trusting that the substances they gave him actually do what they claim and aren’t just hopeful voodoo, but it’s not like he has a bag of IV fluids and a sterile surgical kit handy to stitch you up.

“I’m going to have to pull the arrow out.” He warns you, reaching for your torn bag strap. He balls it up in his hand and holds it up to your face.

“As much as it hurts, bite into this.” He tells you. “I don’t have any local and so this is going to hurt like hell.”

You look slightly uneasy, but nod your head, leaning forward to take the balled-up strap between your teeth.

Jin pulls out a small, dark vial which Ayla had told him was a coagulating liquid. Muscles bleed like hell and if the arrow has hit any vessels, you may pass out from blood loss. He swallows and braces himself. He can do this. He’s a doctor. He reaches deep into him and recalls the guy who worked in the ED and didn’t bat an eye at knife injuries or chainsaw accidents or that one drug addict with a prolapsed rectum.

“Ok, I’m going to do it now.” He warns you. He then plants one hand flat on your uninjured shoulder and grips the broken arrow shaft in the other.

“On the count of three.” He tells you, and you nod. Your fingers dig into the ground in anticipation.

“Three.” He says, and then he yanks the arrow.

Your answering scream is muffled by the bag strap, and you spit it out quickly as he empties the bottle of coagulant over the open wound, which is now filling up with fresh blood.

“That wasn’t on the count of three!” You shriek. Jin nods sheepishly.

“Ok. Well. There’s no use crying over the past.” He offers helpfully. He shoots a look at Jungkook. “Turn around. I’m taking her shirt off.”

Both you and Jungkook splutter.

“Why?” The two of you cry in eerie unison. You even turn fully to face Jin for good measure. He merely arches an eyebrow at you.

“I know you don’t have a degree in medicine or anything... but generally bandages don’t include your tattered shirt edges sticking to the wound.” Jin explains patiently. “(Y/N), it’s fine. I’m literally a doctor. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It’s interesting that despite the blood loss, you can turn that particular shade of red.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” You mumble, even as you turn away and obediently unbutton your drenched shirt.

“It doesn’t have to be the whole shirt.” He murmurs comfortingly, pulling out a strip of material from the medical kit. Ayla had told him that it’s hard to get bandaging material to stay in place for silky Psittanuran feathers, so they often enchant materials with a special adhesive. “Just enough that your shirt isn’t sticking to it. I need to clean it up because the last thing we need is you getting an infection.”

You nod and drop your shirt enough to expose the left half of your upper back. Jin clears his throat awkwardly as he slides the thick strap of your sports bra out of the way and notes that it’s awfully warm in this little burrow.

“I didn’t know they made hello kitty sports bras.” Jungkook observes from where he’s hovering off to the side. You whip your head around to glare at him.

“Get OUT!” You snap. He holds his hands up.

“But you need me! What if Jin starts enjoying himself? You know how he feels about hello kitty-“ the empty coagulant vial being launched at him by your good arm is the only prompting Jungkook needs to go keep watch outside.

Which leaves you and Jin alone. The air feels thick and sluggish in the burrow as Jin works cleaning off the wound and applying the bandage. You’ve gone quiet- whether from exhaustion or pain, it’s hard to tell, but Jin has to help you tug your shirt back into place when he finally finishes.

He crawls over to your hello kitty bag and pulls out your water bottle.

“Why’d you do it?” He asks quietly as you take a long drink from your bottle. You don’t answer for a long time, but finally you drop the bottle.

“I told you. My body moved on its own.” You offer.

“Exactly. Why?” He asks, and he doesn’t mean for so much anger to leech into his tone. It’s just, he feels like the stress and fear and agony of the past week catching up to him and he doesn’t know how to deal with it other than being angry. Angry at you, for deciding to go on this journey in the first place. Angry at this realm for taking your father’s life. Angry at himself, for being pathetic enough to have to constantly be protected and saved by you.

But most of all, angry that your first instinct in danger is to disregard your own life in exchange for his own. He doesn’t even know what answer he’s looking for- that you love him? That it’s just instinct to save people? Neither answer would be particularly comforting.

“I don’t know.” You retort, and your tone is defensive in response to his barely concealed anger. “What do you want me to say, Jin? I heard the arrow coming and I didn’t exactly have time to think.”

“Exactly! That’s your problem!” He cries. “You never think! You only ever act! What would I have done, if your wound had been more serious? Have you ever once stopped to think about how that sort of thing affects me? How it feels to know you’re constantly doing things like fighting armed robbers and getting into fights and treating your life like it’s a piece of garbage to be thrown away without a thought?”

“That’s not what I-“ you protest, but Jin cuts you off.

“What if you had died? What if I had lost you? What would I be supposed to do?” He cries, and he surprises himself when his voice catches.

You go silent. Your words have been lost.

It actually reminds you of when Jin first caught you sneaking over to this realm. That fight seems like a lifetime ago, and he had scolded you for similar recklessness then. But strangely, it feels different. The look in Jin’s eyes is different. He’s... He’s not angry, you realise. He’s scared.

He flinches when the hand of your uninjured arm lands on his forearm. You watch him curiously, your movements cautious as though you are approaching a scared animal. He certainly feels like one.

Slowly, you slide your hand up his arm until you can hook your arm around the back of his neck and pull him into an awkward hug. It’s a little weird- you kind of have to awkwardly straddle him to properly hug him in the limited space, and he is still an unmoving like a wooden board.

“It’s the same for me.” You answer softly. “I can’t lose you. I’m sorry- I didn’t have time to stop and think but I’ll never stop and think when your life is in danger.” You pull away to meet his gaze. “I’ll always just act. You’ll just have to get used to that.”

Jin is silent, as he stares up at you. A weird feeling overcomes him, at your proximity. It’s warm and overwhelming. And, if he’s being honest, it scares him a little with the intensity of it. Like, if he were to pull you downwards and hold you tight, nothing would ever go wrong again. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, but at the same time he’s certain he’s never felt like this in his entire life.

“See I told you! It’s the hello kitty! He can’t resist!” Jin startles at the sound of Jungkook’s voice and you scramble off him like he’s burned you. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he instantly misses the warmth of your body. Suddenly the burrow feels too cold.

Jungkook tuts and shakes his head.

“See, good thing I came in here. Who knows what kind of stunt lover boy would have pulled?” He scolds. “Anyway, I think you’ve had enough time to recover. I guarantee you the Saishta’s are hunting for us as we speak and so we better get a move on.”

You nod, adjusting your clothes awkwardly and gathering your things.

Jin follows suit, almost robotically. He can’t shake the feeling that something huge just happened, but he doesn’t know what.

But his stomach churns because there’s one thing he knows for sure: He can’t lose you. He’s so, so afraid.

#jin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #seokjin x reader #writing

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