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magpie-to-the-morning · 3 years

Text

Pull the Blinds - Part Three

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4k

Tags: Established Relationship, Journalist reader, no Y/N, Established relationship, Dom!Javi, female reader, unprotected p in v sex (don’t do that), fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, name calling, aftercare

Summary: A failed raid sends Javi spinning, desperate to take the edge off. Luckily for both of you, you’re also in need of something to take your mind off work. This is the third in a series, but they can be read individually.

Huge thank you to @keeper0fthestars for the encouragement, brainstorming/co-thirsting, and beta’ing when I couldn’t look at this anymore. Love you babe! 😘

Part One - Part Two - My Masterlist

Read on Ao3

“God damn it,” you slam your folder shut and tear your glasses off to pinch the bridge of your nose. You’ve hit a dead end on this assignment and even taking the day to work from home, all your papers spread out on the kitchen table before you, hasn’t helped. Tension is radiating down your neck and shoulders, lines of stress and pain only worsening the harder you try to force yourself to think through the problem. Pressing a thumb between your brows eases that tension somewhat, and you’re just standing up to take a well-earned break when you hear someone pounding at your door.

You freeze. You’re not expecting anyone. Normally you wouldn’t be so concerned (it’s the middle of the afternoon, after all, and you live in a decent neighborhood), but between your career as an investigative journalist and the drug war tearing Colombia apart at the seams, it never hurts to be cautious. Reaching behind the sofa, you pull out a baseball bat before inching towards the door. The door rattles on its hinges, the knocking louder and more insistent than before. This is no casual visit.

“Who is it?” Your voice is level, even as your knuckles tighten around the aluminum and you take a deep breath in, out. Your mind is already spinning through potential scenarios- has someone clocked your undercover work, tracked you to your home? Adrenaline surges through you, your body screaming at you to be ready for anything, and you only relax a fraction when you hear a familiar, muffled, “It’s me.”

“Javi?” A glance through the peephole confirms that it is Javi, palms braced against your door jam, his dark brown hair slick with sweat and his green, DEA-issued tactical vest wrapped around his chest. His gun is holstered, hanging from the leather belt slung low around his narrow waist. No immediate danger, then.

Setting the bat down you open the door, eyes wide with concern. “Everything okay?” You look behind him, expecting to see the street lined with official vehicles and men bristling with guns, but there’s just his Bronco, parked rushed and crooked against the curb.

Javi’s already brushing past you so you shut the door and follow him. None of this is like him, not the disheveled state of his hair or the sweat-drenched pink shirt clinging to him, and certainly not him barging in, looking like he’s just come from a raid. You get in front of him, taking in his wild eyes, the way he can’t seem to keep still. It’s unnerving, and not doing a damn thing to reassure you that he’s remotely okay or to calm your own racing heart, but you adopt your calmest tone and say “Javier. Talk to me.”

Finally seeming to actually see you, Javi stops pacing for a moment to answer you. “We had them, we fucking had them!”

You’ve never seen Javi like this. It’s not that he never brings the work home with him- how could he not? You’ve seen him exhausted, worn out from lack of sleep and endless hours spent chasing leads that go nowhere. You know what it’s like when the seeming futility and endless bureaucracy wear him down, seen him stressed and frustrated and devastated by loss. But you’ve never seen him like this- electrified, explosive. It’s all you can do to meet his raw, frayed energy with your own carefully constructed calm. “Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Javi gives you the gist. Nothing confidential, nothing that would put either of your professional ethics in jealousy, but enough to see the shape of the thing. A raid, weeks in the planning, turned up nothing but an empty warehouse. Someone must have tipped the targets off, warning them before the DEA could spring their trap.

You wince. You know the effort that had gone into it, the countless hours of sifting through transcripts, painstakingly confirming scraps of rumors whispered through hushed calls. Weeks of work, wasted, all gone to ashes in mere moments. No arrests to show for it and worse, a potential leak. Javi’s desperation makes sense to you now. If one of your investigations had imploded this catastrophically you’d be out for blood, too.

But of course, there’s nothing he can do about it. Not yet. Not until the dust has settled and the analysts can come up with new leads. Until then, Javi just has to sit with the knowledge that his last several weeks of work have been utterly wasted, that the cartel has slipped from their grasp yet again, and are likely laughing their heads off about it from a safe distance, all while plotting their next devastating move. It’s eating him alive.

His story finished, Javi heaves a sigh and scrubs his hands over his face, still coated in a sheen of sweat. Belatedly, he takes in your scattered papers, the chair shoved away from the table where you were working when he burst in. “Shit, you were in the middle of something, sorry. I shouldn’t have burst in on you like this, I just-” he shrugs vaguely, still looking bewildered and only half present.

“Hush.” You lay a hand on his chest, can feel it rising with every heaving breath beneath the solid tac vest, and tip his face up so his eyes meet yours. “What do you need?”

You’re assuming it’ll be something like ice water or, more likely, a shot of whiskey. Maybe a shower to cool off. He’s got some clothes in a drawer in your bedroom, maybe he’ll feel better if he changes…?

While you’re brainstorming potential solutions, Javi is staring at you with all the intensity of a panther sizing up its next meal. Before the thought can properly register, he surges toward you, so suddenly your back hits the counter, its edge digging into your lower back as his arms surround you. His broad hands clutch at the fabric of your dress, making the skirt ride dangerously high up your thighs. His lips crash against yours, slanting and molding to you as he grabs the back of your head. When you gasp he deepens the kiss, his hand clenching in your hair as he tips your head back, plundering your mouth so aggressively you feel teeth. It’s only after those teeth nip sharply at your bottom lip that he pulls back, his breathing ragged.

“I’m sorry, I’m not- I should go.” He hunches his shoulders like he’s ashamed to be seen like this and makes for the door.

Oh. So that’s what he needs. You can picture it now- him bending you over the counter and taking you, hard, right then and there, using you to work the sharp edge off his temper. Just the idea of it, Javi pouring that frustration into fucking you, is thrilling. Besides, turning your brain off for a bit, giving yourself over to all that fury is exactly what you need right now, and he thinks he needs to shield you from that impulse? Hell, no.

You stop him with one touch of your hand. “Don’t go.” Javi’s head jerks up and he stands rigid as you press yourself against him, your hips touching, your hands moving over the taut lines of his arms. “You clearly need to take the edge off.” He hisses as your lips close on his trapezius, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his skin. “And I could use a distraction,” you croon.

“I’m too worked up- I don’t want to hurt you, cariño,” he bites out, even as he looks at you like he could eat you alive and spit out your bones, still hungry for more.

Javi knows you like it rough. Hell, he’s fucked you through gritted teeth and snarls enough times to know you love it that way. This is different. This is burning rage and rough hands, the difference between training rounds and live fire.

You want all of it.

Your lips curl in a knowing smile and you straddle his thigh, denim-clad muscle taut against the scrap of cotton separating your bodies beneath your skirt. You grind down on him and meet his burning gaze. “Not even a little?”

He growls at your challenge, a caged jungle cat, all sleek, bunched muscle and barely checked savagery. He eyes you up and down, assessing, his knuckles tightening against the counter. He runs a thumb over his lower lip and that’s when you know he’s genuinely considering it. You clench and shudder in anticipation, eyes locked on him as he demands “give me your safeword.”

“Javi, you know what it is.” The two of you had chosen it months ago, a reminder of the vacation you’re always meaning to take but never quite get around to.

He leans closer, eyes dark and grin darker. “Remind me,” he rumbles, clutching the edge of the counter he’s got your back up against.

Your throat bobs as you swallow. He’s so close. You can see the sweat sliding down the planes of his neck, feel the edge of his tac vest digging into you, practically taste the bitter tang of unspent adrenaline. The thrill of the hunt rolls off of him in waves, the livewire burn of his need sparking an answering flare in your blood. You have to lick your lips before answering in a whisper “It’s Aruba.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his voice the inescapable rumble of an impending landslide. His nose drags against your cheek, his lips ghosting over your jawline. “And you’ll use it if you need to.” He’s no longer asking. He’s telling.

“Yes, Javi.”

His teeth close on your earlobe sharply. “Yes, what?”

Another shiver runs through you. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s fucking right.” Without further warning, Javi grabs you by your upper arm and shoves you towards the bedroom.

Your heart rate spikes, blood thrumming in time with Javi’s heavy tread marching you down the hallway. His grip is fierce, his expression fiercer, and you suddenly wonder what it’s like to go toe to toe with this man, Agent Peña, in the field. For all his honor and dedication to justice, there’s a streak of ruthlessness running through the heart of him, a need to see the mission through to the end, no matter the cost. Javier is a good man, better than he’ll admit to himself, but that darkness is there. Not a flaw, not really. A smoky occlusion in the ruby heart of him, one more facet in the complex matrix of his inner self.

This knowledge isn’t new to you, but Javi letting you see it firsthand is. It doesn’t scare you. Nothing about him ever could. You trust him, know him, too well for that. No, you’re honored that Javi is willing to show you the jagged edges of himself, to trust you to handle these broken pieces without either of you winding up bloodied.

As you step through the doorway to your bedroom, Javi pushes you towards the bed. “Strip.” His eyes rake over you hungrily, devouring every new bit of skin you reveal as you obey, dropping one garment after another on the floor of your bedroom. He watches, arms folded, still fully clothed, still wearing that tac vest that shorts your brain out. In no time you’re completely naked before him, your body on full display in the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, but he makes no move to undress. He sits in the middle of your bed, leaning his back against the headboard like he owns the place and crooks his finger at you. You crawl to him on hands and knees, letting him pull you into his lap.

“Tell me what you want, querida.” His voice is low and sweet, amber honey dripping into your ear while he noses at your cheek, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through you. Fuck if that voice doesn’t go straight your cunt.

You squirm in his lap, shifting to straddle his waist, your naked sex molded to the bulge swelling beneath his tight jeans. “I want you to fuck me, Javi. Let me help you get rid of all that tension.” You reach up, start kneading his shoulders, but he tsks and pushes your hands aside.

“Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You jut out your lip in a mock pout. He’s the one who pounded on your door, amped up and aching, so it hardly seems fair that he’s turned the tables on you this easily, and yet...

You’d expected him to take you quickly, to burn through you wildfire fast, but now that he’s got you where he wants you he’s intent on breaking you down slowly.

Your fingers curl over the edge of his vest, clinging to him while he kisses you breathless. He’s in complete control, every gasp and jut of your hips unfolding at his urging. He tastes every part of you, his teeth closing over pulse points, tongue flicking over every dip and hollow of your body. You lose all sense of time when he reaches your breasts, drowning in sensation, only pulled back to the present when he pinches a nipple or bites down on the full moon swell of your breast.

He leaves marks as he goes, livid reminders of his claiming every inch of you. You submit to all of it, your fingers scrabbling for purchase over the expanse of that heavy vest as Javi bears down on you. Heat is building in you with every bite and suck and caress, but your body is screaming out for more, more, more. It’s then that it finally hits you- the bastard is doing this deliberately. He wants you as keyed up as he is. That realization pitches you headlong into the blaze he’s been stoking all along and you moan, desperate for more.

He indulges you, still painfully slowly, more fuel for the fire raging in both of you. Reaching down between you, he drags his fingers over your thighs, already slick with the desire dripping from you. “Christ, you’re so wet from just this. You like letting me do this, don’t you? Getting so worked up being my good little slut.”

You gasp and nod, whimpering now that he’s so close to where you need him but still not quite there. He rewards you by finally pressing those thick, clever trigger fingers against your weeping cunt. He moves in slow, torturous circles, and you reach for him, try to kiss him, to beg wordlessly for more. He pulls away, chuckling at your eagerness. “No. Let me do this for you.”

He knows damn well what he’s doing, pushing you to see when you’ll get impatient. You try to wait him out but forget yourself when he slips one finger into the molten clutch of your sex. It’s so good but you need more. “Please,” you murmur, moving to kiss him once more, your hand dropping between you, needing to feel him. Besides, a wicked, wanton part of you wonders what he’ll do if you disobey him like this.

Your answer comes swiftly. Javi flips you onto your back with a snarl, one hand behind your head to cushion the sudden move. Grabbing your wrists in one hand, he hauls them above your head, pinning you in place. “What did I tell you? Hold still!” He slaps your pussy once, twice, three times in rapid fire succession, each hit harder than the last, leaving you stinging and aching for more. You moan and writhe in his hold, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some kind of release.

Javi watches you mercilessly. “Yeah, you like that? Filthy thing. Want me to do it again?” Your toes curl and he takes that as your answer, delivering one more slap to your cunt. He leaves his hand there, tracing slow, deliberate circles around your clit. The sudden tenderness, the tantalizing possibility of finally gaining some relief has you practically sobbing.

“You gonna be a good girl and keep those hands to yourself?”

“Y-yes, Javi.”

He pulls his hand away at once and you whimper, realizing your mistake as his expression darkens. “I know I didn’t just hear you forget your manners.”

“Sir,” you correct yourself quickly. “I meant, yes sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” You know from experience that he loves this, temporarily reducing you to a pleading, pliant mess. He knows the trust this requires, and the way it frees you to give yourself over to pleasure completely. It’s a responsibility he never takes lightly. He always knows just how far to push, what boundaries to test or limits to prod, knowing that’s half the fun. As for the other half...

He works you open, one thumb on your clit, his fingers probing deeper and deeper inside you. Your breath hitches when he’s knuckle-deep, massaging that spot that makes you clench and shudder. He gets you off like this more times than you can count, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you from your curled toes to your tingling scalp. He strokes you and finger fucks you for what feels like an eternity, all the whole whispering sweet filth into your ear. Dark promises of how he intends to take you, to use you, all without filling you the way he knows you crave.

“Please, please fuck me. I need you so bad baby, I don’t think I have another one in me like this.” He’s made you cum so many times you’ve lost count, worked your clit until you’re completely over stimulated and begging for mercy.

He has none. Instead of giving in, he delivers another harsh smack to your abused cunt. “Tell me who owns this pretty pussy.”

“You do, Javi, please...”

“Then give me one more.” He spits and you feel it land, slipping over your swollen folds. It’s lewd and obscene and forgotten the instant Javi lowers his head and licks the sting of the latest slap away. His broad tongue works you mercilessly, ripping another shuddering cry of his name from your lips as he brings you to the edge and shoves you over it once again.

“Get on your knees.” He makes you wait, arms trembling, pussy drenched and waiting while he gets up to undress. He misses nothing, clocking the instant when you clench, your throat bobbing, as he unbuckles his leather belt. Javi quirks an eyebrow and, folding it in half, he swats it once, hard enough to be loud but not enough to truly hurt, against your ass. An experiment more than anything else. You let slip a filthy moan, confirming his suspicion that you truly are this comfortable with rougher treatment.

“Maybe next time, querida,” Javi chuckles. He tosses the belt aside, along with those tight jeans and every other bit of clothing, rejoining you on the bed. He takes his place behind you, hands clutching your hips as he teases your entrance with the fat head of his cock. You can feel how hard he is, the length of him like steel as he pushes himself lazily against your folds. It’s more agonizing buildup, and even when he finally, finally starts to fuck you, he does it with just the tip of his cock, thrusting shallowly, enough to make you clench without being filled. It’s torture. You try to push your hips back to take him deeper, but his firm grip holds you motionless.

“Something the matter, baby?”

You grit your teeth. If he doesn’t fuck you properly right the fuck now you might actually combust. “I need more Javi, please,” you beg.

“Yeah, think you can take it?”

Your only response is a desperate whine, met with a harsh chuckle. “You asked for it.”

He shoves himself inside you in one savage thrust. Even with all of his teasing, the orgasms he’s already pulled from you, and the slick practically dripping from your swollen pussy, it’s a shock. You gasp, his thick cock plunging into you with a filthy squelch, and the sudden overwhelming fullness forces another climax from you without warning. You clamp around him and cry out, barely even registering the flood of wetness practically squirting from you, soaking the rough curls at the base of Javi’s cock.

“Fuck that’s it,” he groans. “That’s my good - fucking - girl.” He thrusts into you in time with his words, working you through the sudden orgasm. As if your release was some sort of signal, this is the moment when Javi finally lets the leash of his control slip, fucking you like a man possessed. His hands grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise, he pulls you onto him as his hips slap against you, setting a brutal, punishing pace.

You’re dimly aware that the harder the fucks you, the more your body slips against the sheets and away from him. Frustrated, Javi shifts his grip, pulling you up, your back flush against his chest and his arms bands of steel around your breasts. His breath is ragged in your ear and even when his teeth close on your shoulder, it does little to muffle his harsh grunts.

Time slips away again and all you know is the bone-rattling ferocity of Javi fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. You’re so overwhelmed with pleasure you hardly know when one orgasm rolls into the next, all you know is that Javi has you in a death grip and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Finally, through a haze of sweat and bliss, you feel him stiffen behind you, his hips stuttering and a strangled groan escaping him as he drops his head to your shoulder, his cock spitting deep inside you. You bury your hand in his hair, mutter soothing nonsense as he spills himself into you. When he finally stills, the two of you collapse into a heap on the bed, his body a comforting weight on yours.

You lay there, in a sweaty, blissed out tangle for several minutes, both trying to catch your breath. Javi recovers first, rolling off of you and gathering you into his arms. He pushes the hair from your eyes, his own going concerned when you’re still too boneless to respond to him calling your name.

Giving you some time to recover, he gets the arnica gel from your nightstand and is already smoothing it over the livid marks on your hips when you come back to yourself enough to speak.

“Mm, feels good,” you slur, rolling onto your side to give him better access. You’d introduced him to this particular remedy when he’d shown up with bruises after a particularly difficult arrest, and it had quickly become a favorite aftercare ritual whenever things turned rough in bed. Javi’s thick fingers glide soothingly over every ache and sting, though you catch his wrist when he moves to smooth the gel over the bite marks he left on your breasts.

“Oh, baby, was I too rough here?” His eyes are soft with concern and the beginnings of apology, so you’re quick to shake your head no. You roll closer and brush away the sweat-slick curls threatening to hide his face.

“It’s not that, Javi. I just… kind of like seeing the marks. The gel makes them heal faster, so leave a few for me, would you?”

He kisses you. “Ok, wild thing,” he says affectionately. “Give me your wrists though, unless you want everyone at your office seeing what I did to you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you tease, but offer him your wrists nonetheless. He’s so gentle, cradling the back of your hand in his own massive palm, his fingers rubbing the gel into your wrist in slow, circular strokes. When he’s finished, he raises your hands to kiss your palms, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes you melt.

“C’mere, baby.” Javi pulls you to lay on top of him, running his hands over your hair and pressing kisses to your face. “You good?”

It’s sweet, the way he fusses like this after having just taken you entirely apart, soothing you with the same single-minded determination he brings to every other part of his life, and you bask in the glow of his care. “Yeah Javi, I’m perfect.”

Javi huffs out a laugh at that. “I'll say.”

You shift in his arms to get a better look at him. He seems more like himself now, less agitated, more present. “Feeling better?”

“Much. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” He drops a kiss to the crown of your head and breathes out. You can feel his body relaxing as he does it, proof that he’s telling the truth.

“Sleep then, I’m sure you need it.” He nods, his breathing already turning slow and even as he drifts towards rest. You close your eyes, about to join him when the solution to your work problem flashes through your mind, clear as day. As soon as you’re sure Javi has drifted off, you slip out of bed and back to work.

Maybe you both could use that vacation after all…

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x F!Reader #Javier Peña x Fem!Reader #My fic #Pull the Blinds

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cheelduh · 3 years

Text

A Liar’s Bait

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!reader

Warnings: Idk fatui abuse? Also Aether gets his braid pulled don’t hate me. Also unedited asf.

Synopsis: There’s a hiccup in the elaborate plan you’ve concocted to rescue your friends, and said hiccup comes in the form of a handsome Cavalry Captain that doesn’t have the foggiest of clues as to what personal space is.

"Ah darling, I didn't know you'd be wondering about this late in the night." The charming cavalry captain, Kaeya, sang from behind you.

For a brief second, you froze in place, but not long enough for him to see through your motives. "Kaeya," You turned to him naturally, and spoke your next words like an actor revising a memorized script. "Have to return a book. You know how Lisa gets."

"At these ungodly hours?" He raised a brow, and you blinked away any remnants of sleep in your eyes at the mention of time.

Barely skipping a beat, you gave him an acknowledging smile. "I have some tasks to do tomorrow. It's better if I return it now." The book that is supposedly due tomorrow is waved hurriedly in the air, as if to exaggerate your point.

"Though it seems like Lisa has went home." He pointed out, cornering you against the brick wall, a knowing look in the deep pools of his eyes.

Of course you knew Lisa wasn't in. That was the entire base of your plan. There were a total of four knights on rotation at the headquarters. It was simple really, sneak into the library with your authority as trusted aide, and if push came to shove, an easy knockout would do.

However, Kaeya's sudden appearance put a hiccup through your plans. It would take more than a sock to the face to put him out of commission.

"Oh really?" You tilted your head in confusion, eyes widening, as you eyed him. "I probably should have came by earlier. Well then, I'll just have to put it on her desk with a note."

"You could trust it with me, and I'll return it tomorrow. Captain's word." He replied innocently, snatching the book from your fingers.

Archons, you absolutely did not have the time for this.

Aether and Paimon were waiting after all.

You decided not to shove a stick up his ass, and instead let your anger blow over silently.

"Your hands are clammy darling," Kaeya went on, flipping through the text just for show. "I can feel it on the book."

'Ew that's gross' You wanted to say, but decided to play his game instead.

"Guess I'm nervous." A forced a blush made its way onto your face. Okay maybe it wasn't forced, but you couldn't blame yourself for letting his subtle teasing get to you.

"Oh?" He feigned curiosity, letting the book close with a soft thud. "My presence often does that to people." The cocky undertone in his voice made you fantasize smacking his face a hundred times over.

"Of course," It was a struggle to not speak in a dry tone. "You are truly..." A small cough escaped your lips, and you tried to stumble upon the words, wishing upon barbatos that the flattering would work. "charming."

Kaeya's grin widened, all cat like, and for a brief moment you felt your heart stutter. He swooped in to cage you against the wall. "I didn't know you were so bold dear."

Before he could utter another flirtatious remark, you pushed yourself close to him, distracting him for a mere moment just to strategically slip the book into the safety of your arms. "Thanks but no thanks. I'll return the book myself."

With a swift duck under his arm, you made your way to HQ before a cold hand grabbed your shoulder. You ceased any movement and glanced over your shoulder, a frown made clear.

Kaeya narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not liking how you weren't becoming a bumbling idiot at his flirty behaviour like you usually did. You'd love to—but you just didn't have the time to deal with him, not when the fatui were breathing down your neck.

"I'll go with you." He said slowly, testing you for any reactions. Shit. He's on to you. "I can't let a pretty lady wander all alone. You might get lost."

Like hell you would. You knew everything about the damn base as if it were the back of your hand. Kaeya understood this as well, but instead, he opted to wake up every morning and choose to be a dickwad.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Lead the way."

Kaeya seemed satisfied at your reply, and slid his grip down from your shoulder, straight to your free hand. He walked in front of you, pulling you behind him like you were a clumsy toddler.

His gaze wasn't on you, so you took the chance to examine your surroundings, trying to find the presence that was tailing you.

Kaeya being this close to you wasn't looking good for you at all. The walls had eyes and ears, and the only way to apprehend the risk was by doing as they said. Only then would you get your opening.

Paimon...Aether...hold on a bit longer.

With a nod to the guards, Kaeya and you made your way in, stopping right in front of the library. With a puzzled expression on your face, you were about to question his intentions, until he readjusted his grip so that your fingers were intertwined.

You were sure your face was flushed in all kinds of colours by now.

"Shall we enter?" He asked you, mirth clear in his eyes.

The only signal you managed to give him was a quick nod.

The library smelled of dark oak and silk flowers. You briefly remembered Aether giving her the plant from his adventures back in Liyue. The bookshelves were decorated with intricate designs, filled with countless of books that had all earned their rightful place.

And you were about to steal one, summoning chaos into Lisa's beloved library. It would be you who might deliver an archived book straight into the hands of the very people who sought out violence in order to achieve power.

"I'll check it in for you," Kaeya let go of your hand after dragging you all the way to the front desk, only to outstretch it for the text you were gripping too hard.

"Oh yeah," You handed it to him—willingly this time. "thank you. I'll be looking around."

It was understood what you had to do. Easily finding the locked case from which you would slip the book into your clothes only to make a run for it wouldn't cut it.

The captain would make too much noise and track you down himself before you could get the chance to shove the book up the Fatui's ass, get Aether and Paimon their freedom back. Then once you'd ensure their safety, you'd beat the living shit out of the Fatui agents right after. It's not like you'd have a choice.

The whole reason you were in this whole mess was because you decided to help Aether out with his latest commission, which happened to be clearing out a hilichurl camp smack dab in the middle of a road. The camp blocked all imports and exports, proving to be a stick in the butt for the merchants of Monstadt.

You, oh helpful and kind you, assisted him with the task, seeing as you were walking back from a fishing trip.

Turned out that the hilichurl camp was a cover for a bunch of Knights of Favonious hungry Fatui agents who were hellbent on getting the one and only copy of a book Lisa had tucked away in the library.

While you two could've easily ended every single one of those shady bastards, enemy reinforcements came out of nowhere and dug their claws right into Aether.

At least that was the cover story.

Violà, a hostage situation was born.

They promised to let Aether go on one condition. If you obtained a book they had their eyes on for quite some time. But their promise had as much worth as Venti's word did when he told you that the drinks were on him.

They couldn't risk the Knights finding out. You were just another loose string that would be cut off along your two friends.

Locating the book and hiding it in your outfit undetected was as effortless as it could get. What was coming would not be.

"Darling," Kaeya called out to you, but his voice is different. More darker than usual. You didn't summon your spear just yet.

"I've finished up. Let's get going yeah?" His footsteps are light on the wooden planks of the floor, but his words are solid. Frozen even.

You breathed out, but refused to turn around.

"You know," He continued, halting next to your shoulder, leaning his sweet mouth down to your ear. His hot breath fanned against your neck, but you paid no heed. "A liar is no stranger to a liar."

You lunged to the side, spinning on your heel as your back hit the railing in the middle of the library. The captain reacted quickly by swiping the air, but ultimately failed to grab you as you gracefully tipped yourself over, landing right on your feet.

There was now a floor that separated the two of you. Just as you had intended.

The reflexes you showcased earned you a smooth-voiced chuckle, an amused smirk gracing his lips. He leaned against the ledge with both hands, bending down his upper body.

"Oh my. We've got ourselves a thief. You didn't think I wouldn't notice, right?" He contemplated, weapon materializing right then and there, ready to put on a good show. You could read him like a book just as he could you. "Can't believe you're such a naughty girl."

Despite his teasing tone, his eyes remained cold and calculating.

"Don't flatter yourself." You spoke monotonously, brushing a hand in the air. "The date stamp didn't match up right? Tight time frame, couldn't really think about the logistics."

Kaeya narrowed his eye shrewdly, offended. "I can't let you go you know."

"I don't need you to." You quipped, but then placed a finger on your chin. "On second thought I kind of do. How about a friendly transaction? I really don't want to fight you."

"And I do not wish to fight you, darling." Kaeya's face split into a viscous smile, a far less forgiving gaze meeting you halfway. This was your chance to tell him, he was giving you a generous opening to explain yourself.

You bit your lip, feeling the unknown presence yet again. The walls had eyes and ears. The walls had vengeful teeth that would dig into you the minute you'd let it slip.

"I need you to let me go." You clutched the leather of your gloves desperately, your prior confidence flickering. Begging was the only card you had left.

His hardened gaze on your form softened slightly, but disappeared almost instantly.

You didn't have to wait for him to voice his answer. It was as clear as day.

The captain didn't waste any more time when jumping over the ledge.

By the time Kaeya's feet made impact, your pole arm was already aimed and ready to strike.

"Let's dance."

After a tactical withdrawal, you found yourself taking tentative steps on the outskirts of Springvale. It wouldn't have been possible if Kaeya didn't let his guard down momentarily.

The cuts on your shoulder still stung, but it was difficult to spare any time towards the throbbing.

Why were you walking so slow? Did your plan not work? No, it should have. You calculated every risk. But why the hell were you prolonging the inevitable end?

It didn't matter. Either way, you'd get to sink your teeth into some unfortunate fatui agents, injecting them with centuries worth of pain.

The opening was nearby, you noted, the pathway familiar. You always were good with maps, oftentimes lending a hand to the certain young outrider with a bright smile and kind heart.

You allowed yourself to calm your erratic heartbeat, and slow your breathing as to get a clearer sense around you. There were two, but before there had been three. The third one revealed himself when you deployed your "return the book" scheme, flipping through the guidebook carefully to see if you left potential breadcrumbs.

Gnawing at your lip, you followed the trail, the world behind you quieting down to a silent whisper.

It seemed like forever when you reached the destination, halting your movements.

Your ears perked up at their footsteps before you could catch a glimpse of them, but made no sudden movements except for dropping the book on the ground as they had instructed.

It was odd that you felt as calm as you did. It could've been because of your confidence in your abilities, or perhaps, something else entirely.

The pyro agent appeared from one of the bushes, right after shoving a bruised and gagged Aether. Paimon came next, in a cage controlled by a fatui cicin mage who wore a wicked smile on her stupid face.

They managed to shut Paimon up real quick. You wondered what it took, but not for too long.

"Hey now," You grinned, but your fingernails were digging crescents in your palm. "I thought we agreed that no one gets hurt?"

"The traveller here is a real handful." The fatui agent hissed from under his mask, harshly yanking Aether by his braid.

Aether, immobile, scowled in discomfort and continued to struggle through his bounds.

You didn't acknowledge the blond nor the agent's words, alternatively choosing to nod your head to the book instead. "Here as promised."

The agent motioned to the Cicin mage, who walked forward in order to obtain the book safely. She handed it back to him, and he briefly flipped through it, seemingly satisfied.

Just like that, Aether was knocked down on his knees next to your feet, Paimon thrown like a sack of potatoes atop him. They were out of the red. Your signal to strike.

"Unfortunately, promises are beneath our pay grade." The agent placed a finger on his chin, as if in thought. "However, you prove to be a valuable asset."

"Oh really?" You piped, eyes crinkling in mock excitement. "I'm really glad a lowly fatui scum thinks so highly of me. It's truly an honour."

Said fatui agent glared knives straight through his mask.

"Kill them." He ordered, and the Cicin mage hummed a sound of delight, summoning her electro-flies or whatever the hell those things were called.

Your polearm took shape in the clutches of your left hand, a twisted grin plastered on your face.

"I'm gonna have so much fun tearing you apart." The bloodlust you emanated was enough to choke the air out of both the mage and agent.

Pouncing on your prey, you didn't give the mage a chance to scream before you landed a roundhouse kick straight to her ribs. She made a guttural choking sound, moving to clutch herself. You ended the move by twisting your weapon into the air to send a shattering hit straight to her temple.

Your blow successfully knocked her out, the kick back proving to be enough to send the pyro agent flying into a nearby tree.

"I really expected something more challenging." A pout formed on your lips, eyebrows furrowed. "Hopefully you can make up for what your mage lacked. If not, I'll be disappointed."

The agent chuckled painfully. "You won't get the chance. You can't take on all of us."

"All of you?" You questioned, tilting your head, eyes widening innocently. "Oh you mean those pesks that were tailing me? So sorry, but they're gone now."

"W-what?!" He sputtered, quick on his feet as he pulled out his knife, charging it with elemental energy. "How could you have—"

"How unfair," A low tone whistled, and Kaeya finally made an appearance, smiles and everything. "Don't give her all the credit. You're making me feel left out."

The pyro agent scattered around his flames, preparing to shake up the battle—

You lost your patience and picked up a decent sized rock, aimed for his nose, and sent a plunging attack.

The agent lost consciousness before he hit the ground.

"Oh come on!" Kaeya's dejected groan rang in your ears. "Could've let me have a turn."

"You already had your turn." You sent a pointed stare at him, bending down near the mage to wipe the blood of your pole arm with her clothes. "Two times if I recall."

He rolled his eyes playfully, forgetting the banter to go and free the traveller of his bounds.

—

"Let's me get this straight." Jean said with fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two roughed up some fatui agents without informing the knights, and put the traveller at risk." There's this look of disappointment in her face, but you're used to it by now.

Hanging around Kaeya sure had its ups and downs.

"Precisely. The folder on your desk has all the details. Enough proof to have them in our custody.” The cavalry captain nodded along, and it somehow made you feel like you were a kid being scolded after getting caught stealing cookies from the jar.

"It was an operation that the traveller agreed to," You declared so her brewing anger didn't overflow. "The perfect plan to catch them in the act. It was my idea. The captain didn’t really know until later.”

"Although I’m quite hurt you didn’t fill me in any sooner, I must say, watching those ignorant fatui diplomats scramble to try and find an explanation is going to be worth the wait.” He spoke with a hint of a smile.

The both of you fist bumped. Jean wasn't amused.

The acting grand master produced a stern glare. "Y/N, assist Lisa with anything she needs for the rest of the week. And the Cavalry Captain here won't be going out on patrols any time soon."

That was a clear lie, but Jean had to keep up appearances after all. What kind of acting grand master would she be if she didn't at least pretend to have some sort of authority over her two trouble-making subordinates.

With a dramatic sigh, you spun on your heel to leave.

“Hey Y/N,” Jean called out, and you tilted your head, wanting to know if she changed her mind and decided to make your punishment worse. “Good work today. That will be all.” She avoided eye contact, feigning deeper interest in the pileup on her desk.

After the "briefing”, as Kaeya liked to call it, you found yourself outside of HQ with him right on your tail.

"Not too shabby for a day's work." He winked, smoothing out his words. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with how this went. Didn't expect you to put so much faith in me.”

"How did you get my signal anyways?" You snorted. "The entire scheme was off the bat. I had to wink at the traveller like five times to get him to showcase a crappy fight stance and become my fake hostage. Dense little guy.”

There was a momentary pause before Kaeya enlightened you with an answer.

"You hate reading, and you're irresponsible." He pointed out cheekily, poking at your nose. You scrunched your nose and turned away, cheeks warming. "The abyss would freeze over before you ever read a book, let alone steal one. That’s several red flags for me.”

He kept going, finding the topic of this to be quite interesting. “Not to mention returning the “Code of Conduct” handbook.” The relentless teasing was one of the reasons why you dreaded work,

"Gee thanks." You remarked unceremoniously. “I didn’t need your help at all. You just love sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

"Aww don't be so low spirited." He suspended your movements by curling an arm around your waist. "Let me treat you for a job well done darling." His hot breath fanned your ear, lips teasingly close.

Dammit dammit...why does he have to be so close!

"That's unfair." Paimon screeched from thin air, scaring the living daylights out of you. "After all the traveller and I have been through, don't we deserve a treat as well?!"

Kaeya laughed apologetically, cold hand never leaving your hips. "Of course. The honorary knight has been quite the help. Now let’s get moving, we're not frozen in place, after—"

A smack on the arm shut him up real quick.

#kaeya x reader #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #genshin impact oneshot #aether #Paimon

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saladejin · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me)

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :)

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories.

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.”

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed.

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

~ three months later ~

“That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don��t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

TO BE CONTINUED

#jimin x reader #jimin angst #jimin smut #bgwdynamitedads #btsghostie #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #jimin imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jimin fanfic #BTS jimin #bts fluff #bts fanfic #policeman jimin #s2l au #heavy angst #shy jimin #saladejin

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legolaslovely · 4 years

Text

It Can Wait

A/N: Hi friends! This started as something to help me get rid of my little Fíli block (which SUCKS because I LOVE him with all my heart????), and I ended up really liking it! I hope you guys do too! :)

Pairing: Fíli x Fem ! Human ! Reader

Word Count: 2,847

Warnings: Fluff, talk of violence and injury, talk of blood, major character with a minor injury, nakedness (?), but like, respectful nakedness

Summary: Fíli runs to (Y/N)’s rescue at a rather inopportune time. ;)

“Lay down your packs. We’ll rest here for the night.”

Before Thorin even finished his sentence, the company of dwarves and their hobbit dropped their packs as if they were full of builders’ bricks. The resounding thump of bedrolls and clinking of weapons falling to the ground would have been enough to wake the nearest orc pack if it hadn’t already attacked the travelers earlier that day. Luckily the enemies were somewhat defeated and mostly evaded by the comrades. The skirmish did come with its casualties, but besides a few ripped packs with one gone and lost to the wargs, the injuries were survivable and would heal in a few days, according to Oin’s gruff but medically sound opinion.

(Y/N) walked to the far side of the rising camp and joined Thorin and his nephews instead of piling herself near the dwarves of the company who couldn’t bear to take another step. It seemed they’d rather plop where they stood, even if that meant sleeping on top of each other.

“Move over there, Bofur,” Bombur said. “Give a dwarf his own space, will ye?”

“Ye have plenty of space, what with ye losin’ yer pack to the warg’s mouth,” Bofur answered.

“Which wouldn’t have happened if ye didn’t run so slow!”

“Oi!”

And thus the bickering began.

(Y/N) dropped her pack on the ground where she could have some space to herself. Once freed, her aching arms stretched up over her head and her creaking back bent from side to side like a reed in the wind. She inhaled deeply, hoping to refresh her senses with some clean forest air but what she got was nothing of the sort.

That smell!

She coughed, she waved, but nothing completely dispelled the thick stink. One more sniff to make sure… and yes, that stench was her. Well, not exactly her. It was the black orc blood covering her tunic, the dirt under her nails, the sweat sliding down her skin and whatever the company shared for supper the night before. Nevertheless, that smell was indeed coming from her.

“I need to bathe,” she muttered.

“There’s a shallow river to the east. Not far,” Thorin said from behind her. She hadn’t realized he’d been setting up his bedroll so close to her as she complained about her… filth. “Go now,” he said. “Before it gets much darker.”

She nodded, going through her pack for some of her belongings. If she went now, she could wash her soiled and smelly tunic, fill her canteen, even wash her hair and still be back in time to share supper before it disappeared.

“Where are you going?” Kíli asked as (Y/N) loaded a smaller bag of hers with her washing utensils.

“To the river. I won’t be long.”

“You’re going alone?” Fíli asked, standing from his half made bedroll and wincing from the effort. Even he hadn’t been spared by the orcs today, having taken quite a blow to his knee. (Y/N) was convinced his limp was the reason Thorin called for camp before dark.

“I’m going to bathe so yes, I’m going alone,” she said.

Her fond teasing always left the tips of his ears stinging red.

“Do you think that’s the best idea?” he asked.

“I won’t be far. And I always have a dagger on me,” she said with a wink as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the river.

Kíli leaned to his brother’s ear, eyeing the weapon that hung from (Y/N)’s hip. It caressed her leg like a friendly cat with every step she took into the woods. “Always, always?” he asked. “Where does she keep it?”

“Use your imagination, Kíli!” she called over her shoulder.

Fíli saw the wheels chugging to life and wildly churning in his brother’s mind and smacked him.

“Oi!” Kíli barked.

Fíli listened to (Y/N)’s distant laugh and shoved his brother’s shoulder once more before returning to his bedroll. He flattened it out over a patch of long wildgrass which made for the softest sleeping place he’d had in weeks.

Moving himself to sit was a challenge with his throbbing knee, but it was one that came with a just reward. He kicked his leg out in front of him and leaned back on his hands, not in a rush to dig the crumbs of dry food out of his pack for his supper. No, he’d sit for a moment and let his mind go blank for the first time since the night before.

“Ye expect me to sleep on that little sliver of roll?”

“Yer lucky I’m sharin’ me roll with ye at all! Yer the one that lost yer pack!”

“ ‘Cause I was watchin’ out for ye!”

“Oi!”

Fíli cracked one eye open and rolled it at the spectacle. As the rest of the company spread out from their lazy pile, the grassy area dwindled, leaving mud moats and pebble piles as the only free space on the edge of the camp. Fíli had marked his territory, as had his brother and uncle. (Y/N), however, ran to the river so quickly she’d barely dropped her pack from her back, never mind set out her blanket.

“Kee,” he whispered. “See that little sliver of grass there?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Unroll (Y/N)’s bed for her, will ya? Right there. She’ll be left in the rocks otherwise.”

Kíli lolled his head and looked behind him, hair brushing the ground with his movement as he leaned back on his elbows. “S’too far away, Fee.”

“It’s right there!”

“You get it, then!”

Fíli had a trademark glare he saved for his little brother. Wide eyes threatened while thick brows sat like soldiers braced for battle; thinly lined lips could snap a command at any moment though his jaw seemed still and hard as stone. The glower wasn’t often unsheathed but even after seventy-odd years together, it was a weapon that still made Kíli tremble. Even now, he glanced again to the pack in question in order to avoid his brother’s steel gaze.

“What?” Kíli squeaked. “She can do it herself!”

“She’s not here.”

Fíli pushed himself to stand. The pain shot through his leg like an fiery arrow through his veins, exploding its target in the middle of his knee and sending shrapnel throughout. He winced, face scrunched up tight, as he limped to unclip (Y/N)’s bedroll from the top of her pack.

“You don’t have to baby her,” Kíli said.

“I’m not,” Fíli said as he rolled the thick blanket over the grass near his own. “I would rather not listen to her complain of her sore back all because you didn’t save her a place.”

“I wouldn't have to if she didn’t take so long washing her pretty hair.”

Fíli patted his handiwork and leaned close to Kíli to say, “Good thing you didn’t get up off your rear, then.” He dodged Kíli’s flying hand and chuckled at his little brother’s faked outrage. Then he stood, adjusted his belt and looked to the sky to judge the time. The sun was low, shining in the trees ahead and painting the leaves golden, the same way it shone at the crown of (Y/N)’s head as if she were a royal.

“She does have pretty hair,” Fíli said.

Before Kíli could shoot back an answer, his attention was pulled to a sharp cry echoing in the near distance. He caught Fíli’s eye and saw panic there.

“What was that?” he asked.

Fíli unsheathed his dagger and listened. Nothing.

“Stay here.”

Fíli disappeared into the eastern woods and made for the river. His injury was forgotten as he rushed through the trees, on guard for any lagging assailants waiting for him to approach. With each twig crunching step, he willed himself to slow down, make a plan, take in his surroundings, so as not to sprint full force into an enemy attack on his own. But the thought of (Y/N) in danger spurred him on. He rushed forth- forgot his training, his pain, his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as if attempting to break free from its cage and act as lieutenant.

His steps were mechanical, automatic. Green and brown whirred around him until he reached a clearing and saw blue. Then a shining dagger glinted in front of his chest.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” he said, arms shot in front of him.

“Fíli! What’s wrong?”

The land all around was empty except for the two of them. No enemy stood in sight and there was no evidence of a fight before he’d arrived. No blood, no weapons, and the only footsteps in the dirt were (Y/N)’s own. Her bare feet, tiny compared to his thick boots, led to bare calves, bare knees and mostly bare thighs, only the tops of which were covered with a clinging, wet tunic. Back to her feet his eyes went and he backed away, sheathing his dagger and looking anywhere except the soaked woman before him.

“Mahal, I’m so sorry. I thought I heard a scream and you were out here alone- my mind went to the worst. I really didn’t- this is no ploy to- I swear.”

“I believe you, Fíli.” She picked her dagger’s sheath from the ground and replaced her weapon. For a moment, he watched the soaked tunic adhere to her chest. Her hair shone with soap that slid down her neck, the bubbles making their way down over the dips of her collarbones and adding to the translucency of her covering.

She straightened. “I heard it too, but it was a fox. The pack made a kill just over the bank and celebrated so loudly I thought they were actually dwarves.” The corners of her mouth wriggled as she tried not to smile.

“You’re funny.”

“Thank you.”

She watched him. For his reaction? To pressure him into keeping his gaze to himself? To thank him for risking his life for her safety? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m also shivering and covered in soap, so if you don’t mind-”

“I’ll leave.” He turned back to the way he came, leaning a bit too far onto his sore leg. Despite his best intentions, he hissed in pain but the spare air vanished when a damp hand landed on his arm.

“What did Oin say about your knee?” she asked.

His hand clamped onto hers. “I’ll be crooked for a few days, but it should heal just fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to run through the woods on either.”

A breeze blew between them. She shook with a chill that ran down her spine and took her hand away from his.

“You are shivering,” he said. “I’ll leave you as you asked.”

“Actually, I just meant to ask if you’d turn around so I can rinse off. Then we can walk back together. Wouldn’t want any foxes to attack you in your weakened state,” she said, biting her lip to stop from laughing as he shook his head.

He watched her back into the water, expertly dodging slippery, sharp rocks, until the little ripples reached her knees. She never took her eyes off his, but cocked a brow as she fiddled with the hem of her wet tunic.

“You should probably turn around now.”

“Right.”

He dutifully and respectfully spun, holding his breath to listen to her laugh. Her tunic landed on the rocks near his feet with a wet slap while the river water splashed and encased her in its embrace. If he closed his eyes, he’d be able to see her leaning her head back into the waves, revealing her neck and the swell of her breasts until her flesh disappeared below the surface. If he closed his eyes, he had the chance to imagine things he shouldn’t be picturing about his comrade.

So he looked up into the trees to count the birds or the leaves or the branches- something that would take his attention away from the completely bare woman right behind him. Then he saw her extra tunic hanging dry, still stained dark grey and maroon from their skirmish with a small orc pack that afternoon.

“That’s your only spare tunic up there?” he asked.

She hummed. “I can’t seem to wash the orc stench out of it, but it seems I’ll have to wear it for the night as my other one won’t dry in time.”

“I have an extra you can wear.”

“Oh, no, I’ll make do.”

“Nonsense,” he said, retrieving the wet tunic-ball and hanging it over a branch. As he sniffed the stained one and winced, he said, “Rip this one up for rags. You’ll need some for cleaning and mending as we go on. This wet one will dry, but until we can get you another spare, you can take mine.”

He dropped the rags-to-be by her bag and slid out of his outer layer. As he shed his clothes, he started to regret his decision. But asking her to choose between freezing overnight and sleeping in orc funk wasn’t an option. His fingers shook as the rustling of the water grew higher in pitch and her steps turned from small splashes to light pats over the dirt.

“That’s generous of you. Thank you.”

He pulled his tunic over his head and held it out, only seeing her by his side when he ran a hand through his braids and set them to rights. She’d slipped into her trousers and though she’d squeezed the water from her hair, stubborn droplets ran down her smooth skin and over freckles that were newly formed from long hours in the sun.

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning away as she dressed.

It wasn’t long before she landed before him, long tails tucked in and bunched in her trousers and laces tied under her neck.

“Well, then,” she said. “Ready to fight off some foxes?”

Fíli chuckled as the sleeve she’d pushed up to her elbow fell back down and over her wrist. “Indeed. Maybe we’ll find something for supper on the way,” he said as he neatly rolled the extra fabric up her arm the way he knew she liked it.

“Anything would be better than whatever your brother caught for us last night.”

“Not a fan of mystery meat?”

“Not when it smells like that,” she said.

When the pair grabbed everything they’d brought with them to the river, they started their way back to the camp. The sun had set but there was still a residual light radiating from the sky and through the trees. The purple twilight illuminated the path which Fíli had made much more prominent with his previous run through the woods. Mighty bear jokes were passed back and forth as (Y/N) noticed the broken branches and large bootsteps left in the dirt.

Fíli wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders and pulled, making her topple into his chest and giggle even more.

“Knock it off,” he said, words warped by his wide grin.

“Fine, fine. But seriously, Fíli. I’m honestly quite offended by what you’ve done tonight.”

He stopped her in the path, eyes wide and deep with regret. “(Y/N), I promise, I was not at all trying to sneak some sort of peek. I really thought you were in danger-”

“No, not that. All this time I always thought I had a rather pleasant voice. Now you say I sound like a yowling fox. It hurts me a bit.” She headed back to camp without him, leaving him stunned into place in the middle of the woods. “More than a bit, actually,” she continued. “I think you’re going to have to think very hard on how to make this all up to me. If we want to stay friends, that is.”

Two giant, limping steps later, he was close enough to take her in his arms and kiss her, as he’d wanted to do for months. And unexpectedly, magically, thankfully, she returned his embrace. Her fingers were cold on the nape of his neck but his tunic was warm around her body. Up her back and into her hair went his thick fingers, opening her to him and pulling her lips even closer. He sighed, a mix of her scent and his, her hair oil and his soap, and every bit of him swelled to capacity with pride and affection. Finally.

He drew away just enough to take in her face. Her eyes were still closed, and slowly, a smile grew on her pinked lips. She hummed and looked at him.

“That’s a good start,” she said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Her smile spread into a bright and beautiful grin and Fíli could only return it. He shifted against her and felt her arms wrap further around him in support.

“We should get you back for some rest. Your knee-”

“Can wait,” he said, taking her chin in his fingers and running his thumb just under her lips. “It can wait.”

He kissed her again, pain and worries gone.

***

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#fili #fili x reader #fili x human!reader #fili x fem!reader #the hobbit #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #dean o'gorman x reader

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

Text

Prince of Nothing III

~ Part Three of Five ~

Release Date: July 17,2020 @ 12 a.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 6,646

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: Some of the contents in this story may not be suitable for all audiences. These include toxic relationships, manipulation, gore and various forms of abuse as well as rationalization of said abuse. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

A small part of Yoongi trembles at the sight of the light blue house just a few feet away. It had been several weeks since he’d been there and it took all of his self-control, and a bit more, to stay away. It was his safe space. Somewhere he felt incredibly safe and after the guilt threatened to eat him alive Yoongi needed a break. Needed his songbird to take away his pain even if it was momentarily. The driver opened the car door, allowing him to step out. His saunter was light, feet barely touching the ground, even though he desired nothing more than to break into a sprint. Min Yoongi must always maintain an air of pacificity and general aloofness. Emotions were a weakness and now that the prince was aware of his, Yoongi had to proceed with caution.

“Welcome home, Master.”

“Where is he?”

Yoongi wasted no time with pleasantries. His cat-like eyes darted around every corner of the room attempting to find any trace of his beloved. “He’s in the garden master. He hasn’t eaten much since your departure.” Yoongi sighed, heading towards the back porch. There were many places that his songbird was allowed to be inside the manor, but he always preferred the garden. It was the only piece of the outside world he was entitled to see, Yoongi had told him it was for his protection. Even if they both knew it was a lie.

As he turned the corner he suddenly stopped, from where he stood he could see the porch in all its entirety. The glass that encased it allowed for one to view the beauty of the outside world without being exposed to the harshness the elements may bring. It was a beautiful day, the setting sun filtered through the glass creating prisms of rainbows which danced around the room but what shined brightly was him: draped longingly across the plush blue velvet chaise. The tan of his skin glowed effortlessly and Yoongi always found himself admiring it. When he wasn’t admiring the pillowy lips, sharp eyes, and rounded bottom that is.

“Songbird?” The man in question paid him no mind, despite Yoongi knowing he'd been heard. Slowly he approached him, his songbird was delicate yet ferocious. Life had forced him to live on extremes to survive and though Yoongi wished he could say that all of this had changed since being in his care - it had only worsened.

“I thought you would’ve replaced me by now. Seeing as you have found yourself a new toy.” There was an edge to the man’s tone, the words almost withered at the end.

Yoongi rushed towards him, his strong arms cradling his fragile lover, as he tried to calm his fears. “No, my love. That wasn’t for me. It was a favor I did for the prince.” His songbird stilled in his arms, he had only met the prince once in his life but it was enough to instill fear in him forever. A repressed memory of blood and screams flashing in front of the young man’s eyes. Yoongi didn’t understand why his lover struggled to get out of his hold.

“J-”

“So you’ve condemned someone else to suffer the same fate as I have?!" There it was the rage in his eyes. Yoongi shakes his head ready to defend himself, but his love doesn't buy it. "Why else would a Jeon be interested in a commoner?!" Despite all his efforts, Yoongi managed to maneuver the man back into his arms. Yoongi felt fire travel through his veins, vexed at how his beloved behaved.

“Don’t speak as if you are a prisoner. I have given you the world.”

“In return, you’ve locked me away in a cage, so that your songbird may only sing for you.”

Yoongi scoffs, shoving his songbird off him and standing up. "If you don't want me then, I'll leave. Wallow in your self-pity by yourself." Before Yoongi could take even a step away, the younger man had grabbed hold of his wrist. It was several seconds of tense silence before he finally spoke. "I've longed for you so much. Please don't leave me alone again." Just like that his songbird was broken once again, unable to sing. Tenderly, Yoongi placed his hands on either side of his lover's cheeks, cupping them gently as he leaned in closer. Their kiss was superficial, one-sided, but it didn't mean it wasn't passionate. Even if one side was fulled by love and the other by loathing.

YN ran through the long-winded corridors attempting to find a way out. She had been running for several minutes now and knew that she couldn’t be too far off from a staircase or the servant’s quarters, but her surroundings remained the same. It felt as if she was running in place. As if the castle itself was determined to not let her escape. Eventually, YN’s body grew depleted and she rested against the wall, listening intently for either guards or her captor to come to find her. It was the rhythmic clicking of heels that alerted her that someone was near. Vito, who had been comfortably resting upon YN’s forearm trailed up her body, wrapping across her neck and dangling down: ready to attack.

Jungkook had given YN a weapon, one that wouldn’t attack him, but wouldn’t hesitate to defend her. It caused her to worry, it meant that the prince was certain he was not the only threat to her safety. It seems there were those who were bigger and worse than him - or liked to pretend they were. Mistress Eun rounded the corner, her flamboyant yellow dress caused her to stick out like a sore thumb. It had been weeks since YN had seen the woman responsible for her brother’s death. If it were up to Eun both of them would be six feet under. Mistress Eun, in a world of her own, didn’t notice YN until they were mere feet apart. Her expression was one of shock before she quickly schooled it, grinning maliciously.

“Well if it isn’t the talk of the town.” Eun’s eyes dragged down YN’s figure and a disgruntled look overcame her face when she noted how YN’s lavish gowns far surpassed hers. “If it isn’t the prince’s whore, look at you effectively climbing up the social ladder. What would your brother say?”

YN didn’t respond, too furious to even attempt too, on the outside though she looked nonchalant and that bothered the older woman. It enraged her. “You really ought to be thanking me, child, if it weren’t for me you would have never met the prince. Likely would’ve died in a pigsty with no one to remember you.” The wrath turned icy cool and YN began to wonder if this is how Jungkook felt at times. She could almost hear him whispering to her: Do it. Hurt her. You know you want to. Mistress Eun stepped closer to YN, face mere inches away from hers as she hurled more insults. “The two of you were rats. Pests. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here so don’t think so highly of yourself. You’re just a plaything to spare his boredom.” YN smirked causing Eun’s blood to boil.

You wouldn’t get caught. It would be so simple. Vito could do it. YN tightened her fists, letting her nails dig into the palms of her hands.

“Then again, had your brother simply accepted to sleep with me and not embarrassed me with his rejection he’d still be alive.” Had Eun known those words would seal her fate, perhaps she’d have been more careful. Though it is unlikely she would have, she was never particularly smart and always brash.

YN’s hands flew around Eun’s throat tightening and squeezing as Vito jumped out aiding her. Do it! Kill her! It was not her voice inside her head, it was not her controlling her movements. Once YN realized that she ripped her hands off Eun's throat, taking Vito with her. By then, however, it was too late. Mistress Eun lay dead on the castle floor. The shock caused YN to remain frozen staring at the hollow eyes that seemed to plead at her. Her haze dropped to her hands where Vito was resting, they were shaking incessantly. Jungkook’s voice was no longer in her head, but YN was certain it wasn’t a delusion. What is going on? Strong arms wrapped around YN’s torso hoisting her up, YN’s reaction was too delayed to have been able to do anything.

It was someone YN had never met, blonde ashen hair stood out against his dark palette. He cast one glance at Eun before his hooded eyes fell upon YN a sense of familiarity in them. “The guards will be here any second. Run straight and turn left, there is a large tapestry attached to the wall. Push against it with all your might, it’s a door. Follow the sound of the cicadas and you’ll make it out.” YN parted her lips to question him, but she heard the distant murmurs of guards. “Take that thing with you.” The stranger looked disparagingly at Vito who hissed back. YN gripped the serpent in her hand and took off, sparing one final glance at the mysterious stranger.

Jungkook held the mouse over Morte’s head, allowing the snake to lunge before quickly moving it away. This continued until the activity eventually grew dull and Jungkook let the dead mouse drop into the snake’s jaw. The young prince rolled over onto his bed, his mind drifting towards YN’s fear-ridden expression when she’d failed at hurting him. Not to mention the look of shock when he’d called her his queen. The girl was full of surprises and was like a drug to Jungkook - strangely addicting. A part of him longed to be near her at all times but knew that wouldn’t be the smartest decision. There were always eyes on Jeon Jungkook, but now there were eyes on YN too and he couldn’t risk it. Not if he wanted his plan to work.

Morte stilled beside him alerting Jungkook to the potential danger. Jungkook lifts himself from his bed, looking towards the door. Awaiting the knock that was sure to come, Jungkook wondered who would be so audacious as to bother him in his bed chambers. They were likely more reckless than bold. "Come in." Jungkook mumbles, seconds later Seo Kangjoon is greeting him. Jungkook supposes he should have known it wouldn't be long before the Seo’s came to force his hand. It aggravated him to no end that they thought he would simply bend over to their will. The Seo’s held power: their family was the head of agriculture in the land. The crown needed them for crops and they were very popular, along with the peasantry, seen as beautiful yet polite people. What a fucking joke. Jungkook saw through their facade, much like everyone else the Seo’s were desperate for more power. Becoming part of the royal family would provide that in unprecedented amounts.

“To what do I owe the pressure of having the Kangjoon in my bedroom unannounced? Hoping for a repeat of that night?” Jungkook smirked, seeing Kangjoon visibly tense. The prairie’s golden boy had too much to drink during his bachelor’s night and Jungkook was there to witness his true depravity. Kangjoon shook his head, “Would you have accepted my requests to see you had I done so officially, your highness?” It annoyed the prince to no end how Seo refused to play along. Kangjoon wasn’t as smart as Soojin, not by any means, but it was his sex that determined he be the heir. Even if Soojin was destined to rule. Though Kangjoon’s intelligence lay in his practicality - which is why he always refused to engage in mind games with the prince. He knew he’d lose.

“I am here to warn you.” Oh? "I have a meeting with the king to discuss your marriage with my cousin. We don't wish to force the hand of a future family member, but given the recent developments, we are quite embarrassed. I hope you understand." Kangjoon bowed deeply, excusing himself before heading towards the King's corridors. Jungkook gazed out towards his spot, his hand lashed out gripping the canopy of his bed and in one swift move, it crushed in his hand. It almost landed on his snake had Morte not had fast reflexes. Jungkook left the room searching for his beloved fiance.

Soojin had never looked worse. The purple welts around her neck were too small and thin to have been caused by human hands leading Jungkook to assume it had been Vito who’d done the damage and not YN. Still, Soojin’s usually perfect hair was a tangled mess that darted in every direction and her almond eyes were puffy and red around the edges. The second she saw Jungkook she let him know who was to blame, “She did this to me.” Jungkook didn’t answer simply kissing her forehead gently, Soojin leaned into his embrace. Soojin places her head in the crook of the prince’s neck closing her eyes. Her neck ached painfully, but she had refused any more medication not wanting to see the pitying look of the palace’s healer.

“Your cousin is here to speak to my father about our wedding.”

Soojin stills, raising her head cautiously. She recognizes the edge in Jungkook’s tone. “I’m sorry. It isn’t him, but my mother who insists we be wed. I told her about the king, but-”

“Shush.” Jungkook smiled tenderly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Soojin frowned, confused by his words, Jungkook hated being told what to do. Undermining him to go see his father would have definite consequences. “In fact, I think they’re right.” Soojin pulled away from Jungkook, needing space to properly comprehend what he was saying.

Jungkook smiles, dimples on show, “Let’s get married.”

YN had been walking for hours, it had been evening when YN had escaped but something told her it was nearing dawn. The corridors were cold and damp, unlike the rest of the palace they looked incredibly old. A testament to its legacy. The cold had been too much for Vito who was now nestled inside YN’s bosom, needing heat to survive. Being unable to properly see anything in front of her due to the darkness, it made her footing sloppy. So, when she stepped on a loose stone and twisted her ankle she went down with great force. “Fuck.” It was then that YN began to wonder if she would die inside the castle walls. Her body withering away until nothing, but a corpse remained. Would she join her brother? Or had her actions led to her having a reserved space in hell? YN was somewhat surprised Jungkook hadn’t found her yet but was also terrified that her thoughts seemed to always go to him.

It was as if she was under a spell. Though it was certain that Jungkook had found a way to bind Vito to her, she didn't want to focus on how she questioned if the prince had done the same thing to them. Before with Eun, she had not been herself. As if someone were coercing her into doing said things. YN trembled with fear if Jungkook could coerce her into murder then what else could he have her do?

“He’s a menace!”

Her head snapped left as she heard more yells and strange noises. YN pushed herself up from the ground with the little strength that remained and walked towards them. Soon enough, YN saw a light, getting closer; she saw what looked like a window peering into the room. Upon closer inspection, it was a mirror that looked into someone’s private office though who YN couldn’t decipher. Not until the figure emerged from the corner babbling to himself in an incoherent way that explained his state of mind. “Jungkook has been a murderer since the day he was born and will lead this kingdom to ruin if I don’t stop him!” YN’s hands flew up to her mouth to stop the gasp. YN had heard much about King Jeon the II growing up, the man was ferocious in the way only a Jeon could be. Still, he paled in comparison to Jeon the I, and that meant the war and social injustices that had long plagued the kingdom ended during his reign, or so it seemed.

YN couldn’t see all of him now, his back was towards her as the King faced a portrait hanging on the wall. Nonetheless, she could recognize the familiar slope of his shoulders and rigid posture as something his son had inherited. Yes, Jungkook was very much his father but managed to surpass him at a young age in just about every aspect. Even the love of his people. For that, it was said the king would always despise him but the real reason lay in the portrait he spoke to. No one knew much about the late Queen only that she was effortlessly beautiful and seeing her portrait YN couldn’t agree more. She held a softness to her that contrasted greatly with her husband and son, though if YN looked deeper she could see Jungkook had parts of her too.

Jeon muttered to himself once more and it dawned on YN that he was speaking to the portrait. "You're right my love. If I do it the people will turn against me, but if we blame the Kim girl…" YN's eyes widened, she stepped back, her back hitting the stone wall behind her. At that moment, Jeon freezes as if aware he's being watched. "Come out." The king speaks lowly, all the anguish has gone from his voice. In a split second, he draws a dagger from his clothes and sends it hurtling toward its target. But instead of the mirror, it is the door. YN doesn't waste the opportunity and flees once more.

"Mistress Eun was found dead last night. Similar attack to the one that occurred to the princess, Miss YN is nowhere to be found." Baekhyung announces loudly, his back bent at a ninety-degree angle to not offend the crown prince. Jungkooks nods, wiping his hands free of blood before returning to the book on his desk. Baekhyung grimaces slightly at the sight before him, knowing it’ll be him cleaning up the mess as the maids won’t go near the body. “Make sure to find her Baekhyung and bring her back to me.” Jungkook picks up the book leaning back in his chair, the title ‘Golden Ones’ had always drawn the guards attention but he knew to ponder any further would get him killed.

“What is the official story, your highness?”

Jungkook cast one final glance at Kangjoon’s corpse, it was a bloody mess with the heart ripped out and blood still oozing. The prince would have to replace his favorite carpet. “The king was so upset with having his hand forced about the Seo matter that he lost it and killed their last male heir. What a tragedy.” Baekhyung nods, before tilting his head towards Jinyoung who sighed under his breath and helped him carry the body out.

By the time YN had managed to escape dawn had broken and the sky was a pleasant mix of oranges, pinks, and purples all blended. Perhaps it had been the fact that YN had remained surrounded by darkness all night, that it had been so long since she had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin and the beauty of nature surrounding her that caused YN to stop. Vito was still asleep, YN felt exhaustion spread throughout her body. She began to sway from one side to the next and knew it wouldn’t be long until she collapsed. YN forced herself to continue forward, attempting to reach the edge of the forest before anyone caught her. The more distance she traveled the farther away the forest seemed. YN wasn’t sure if her perception was muddled or there was something else at play here.

It wouldn't matter anyway for the prince's guard hounds were on her tail. "You there! What do you think you're doing?!" YN let out a sigh of frustration. Every damn time. YN watched a large man with dark hair and thick eyebrows approach her, a bit of tension leaving her body when she realized he must have been a regular guard and not part of the knighthood. “I’m sorry, I was visiting my sister in the servant’s quarters when I got lost.” YN couldn’t think of anything more convincing but figured something complex wouldn’t work well in her case. The guard’s eyes narrowed, “As if I’m going to believe that. You look like a common whore, probably hoping to snag some nobleman, huh?”

The guard gripped her tightly pulling her close so that their bodies were touching. Almost instantaneously, the man fell to his knees back twisting painfully as he groaned out in pain. “I would refrain from touching what isn’t yours.” YN recognized the voice and turned around to see Jinyoung accompanied by another man dressed in similar attire. “The prince wouldn’t appreciate knowing some lowlife dirtied his favorite toy.” YN’s face scrunched up in disgust at Jinyoung’s words, she began to wonder whether she could escape the men but it seems they were onto her.

“Miss YN, the prince has been searching for you all night. He requests your presence.” The shorter one spoke, YN raised her eyebrow at him but he simply smiled. “Kim Baekhyung, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” YN ignored him, “You can tell the prince that I dissent his request.” Jinyoung smiled, “Ah, I forgot to mention the prince never did say we had to bring you back in one piece.”

“Oh, how you always manage to surprise me, darling.” Jungkook’s smug smile was far too large for YN’s liking. She’d been brought to his chambers against her will and judging from the glint in his eyes, he had something planned. “I’m happy to see you’ve taken a liking to Vito.” He eyed the snake draped across her décolletagle. YN crossed her arms over her chest as Vito slithered down her body towards Morte’s resting bed, desiring to be with the other snake. “Look their friends.” Jungkook seemed too enthusiastic to YN which was the exact opposite of what he normally was.

“Morte could eat him alive.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”

Jungkook turned his attention back to YN, noticing the state of distress of her gown before his eyes crawled back to her. “So tell me,” Jungkook leaned back onto the settee tilting his head slightly. “How did you escape?” If Jungkook knew about YN’s discovery then she’d be screwed. Though YN was beginning to pierce through the enigma that was Jeon Jungkook, she could never be sure whether she had managed to evade his game or play right into it. “Your fiance tried to murder me.” Jungkook shrugged, “I expected as much. Lions are volatile creatures, hot-headed too, best not to mess with them.” YN rolled her eyes, “The only reason Soojin attacked me was because of you. Shouldn’t it be you facing the actions of your consequences?!”

“You would blame a man in love?”

YN scoffed, “This isn’t love, it’s nothing but a game to you.”

“You’re wrong. It’s a love game.” Jungkook smirked, enjoying intensely how YN’s brows furrowed in frustration.

“What did you call me in for, your highness?”

Jungkook stood up abruptly, YN's stepped back a few feet in trepidation, something that the twisted prince enjoyed. He lifts his hand and brushes YN's lower lip delicately, "I wanted to tell you to switch your m.o. Strangulation is far too noticeable. I'd hate for you to draw unwanted attention." Slowly he circled YN letting his hand trail above her torso. "It was an accident, I didn't want to hurt her." Jungkook chuckled, arms wrapping tightly around YN's waist. "Who, darling?" His lips brushed the long arch of her neck, his arms tightening every second that passed by. "Soojin or Eun? Which one was an accident?" YN cast her eyes downward focusing on the snakes noticing how Morte had wrapped around Vito and was embracing him, or was it the other way around?

"You made me do it." YN struggled to get the words out, all she could see was Eun's dead body. All she could remember was the feeling of wringing her throat out until nothing remained. Jungkook gripped her chin, "Did I make you do it? Or did I permit you?" When they kissed it was tender so opposed to how the prince usually was. Jungkook was holding her as if afraid she would break. The kiss immediately distracted YN and she couldn't help but give in to it, just to escape the darkness in her mind. That is until a bitter tang filled her mouth and went down her throat. YN pushed away from Jungkook, spitting out his blood from her mouth.

Jungkook smiles sadistically, his tongue swiping across his lips to clean any remnants of blood. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" YN screams wiping her mouth in utter disgust. The man in question rolls his eyes as if the answer was oh so obvious. "I love you that's what." YN knew it was never good to reveal a trump card as it may come in handy later on, but she would have given anything at that moment to knock Jeon Jungkook down a peg or two.

“Your father is plotting to murder you.”

Instantly, Jungkook's face crumbled, his eyes widening in shock as he numbly asked, "What?" He looked so much like a lost child and YN felt regret pool at her stomach until his expression changed to one of rage. In the blink of an eye, Jungkook stood in front of YN, hand wrapping tightly around her neck as he lifted her from the ground. "What did you say?" YN struggles against his hold, her hands clawing at his to get him to let go. The only did he did was place her back on the ground, but his clasp remained.

“I saw him speaking to a portrait of a woman. He was going on and one about how you were a murderer from a young age and a threat he had to put a stop to.”

The pupil had all but consumed the iris in Jungkook’s eyes allowing YN to see herself perfectly reflected in them. “I don’t fucking believe you,” Jungkook screamed though there was a hint of pain towards the end that YN latched onto. “I swear it’s the truth!” She searched her mind for anything, any detail, that could convince the distrustful man that what she was saying was the truth. YN was beginning to feel dizzy as if she could pass out at any second, finally, she remembered. “S-she had your eyes.” Jungkook’s eyes filled with unshed tears as he let go of YN, letting her crumble to the ground. YN wheezed as she tried to regain her lost breath, well aware of the glare the prince had fixed on her.

“And how exactly were you in the king’s private study?”

In her disoriented state, the words slipped right out. “I saw it through a mirror.”

A moment passed before Jungkook smiled once more, a small ‘Ah’ leaving his lips. “You found the corridors. That’s how you escaped.” He crouched down in front of YN, “Though I doubt you’re aware of all of them, so you must’ve stumbled upon the one behind the tapestry.” Jungkook reached out patting down YN’s frazzled hair and tugging one side of it behind her ear. “Don’t worry I’ll have it sealed soon enough.” YN shoves his hand away, climbing to her feet. “I should have never told you.” Jungkook nods, “If it weren’t for your kindness you might have had me off your hands.”

He went to continue speaking but suddenly paused as if something had just occurred to him. “Why did you tell me?”

“He was going to pin it on me.”

A pause, then. “You aren’t as selfless as you think you are.”

News traveled fast of the wedding meant to bind the Seo’s and Jeon’s, while Jungkook had yet to mention it to YN there were too many outside forces for him to be able to avoid going through with it. Something which caused her great satisfaction. Though it was a cloudy day, YN found she enjoyed being outside nonetheless. Sana was currently by her side enjoying how the king’s many hunting dogs pranced around the garden. They were in the balcony near the throne room, YN was once again dressed in the finest garbs money could buy - Sana having forced her into them.

“Don’t worry, Mistress. I’m sure everything will be fine.” Sana reached out, squeezing YN’s shoulder comfortingly.

YN had told Sana everything one night after having one too many cups of wine and being cared for by the maid during her bath. Sana had assured YN that as much as the prince desired to wed her, as long as she was a peasant it wouldn’t be allowed. She wasn’t too certain that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to find a loophole, but it pacified her nerves. Not to mention her prompt meeting with the king had caused more rumors to surround her. Even while she was certain it was just Sana and her, YN could feel eyes piercing through her.

“Miss Kim?”

YN turned around to see Baekhyung bowing before her, instantly YN knew something was wrong. “They’re ready for you.”

When YN stepped foot inside the room it was filled with nobility, hushed whispers of incredulity falling from their mouth. Sitting perched upon the throne with a crown resting upon his perfectly styled hair was the prince of everything, Jeon Jungkook himself. No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t have…

“Unfortunately, my father is ill and won’t be able to attend any of his royal duties today, so I shall do it in his place,” Jungkook announced to the crowd of people, the second he spoke a deadly silence weighed over the room. Whether it was out of fear or respect was yet to be deciphered. Jungkook fixed his stare on YN and she could swear the prince blinked at her, but it was to quick to tell. "As most of you are aware by now, Mistress Eun has suddenly passed due to her misuse of substances. This has caused her land and title to have been lost." Jungkook wasn't just speaking to YN, but everyone.

“Due to her lands needing to be tended for and properties managed, someone needs to step forward to claim.” His dark eyes fixed on YN, “I hereby name Miss YN Kim and her heir’s sole proprietor of Eun’s lands and assets. Thereby granting her the title of Lady.” YN stilled in fear, but aware of the eyes on her she bowed deeply. “Thank you, your royal highness.” She spoke through gritted teeth. Once again Jeon Jungkook had won.

“A Kim?!”

“The king must be really out of his mind.”

“Another Kim in court? Isn’t one enough?”

“Everyone knows the real reason she received them. Has she no shame?!”

“Lady Kim,” YN turned around to see the crown of someone’s head, the ashy blonde hair all too familiar. It’s him. The man who had found Eun’s body and helped her escape. But why? The man rose from his bow, YN being able to see the deadly look in his eye. “Lord Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” YN’s eyes widened, but Namjoon remained unaffected. Taking her hand into his and placing a small kiss over the knuckles. Though Jungkook was nowhere in sight, YN was certain she could feel him gauging her. If Jungkook knew it was Namjoon who aided her escape, heads would roll. Best to pretend then, it seems that is what Namjoon desired to do as well.

“Pleasure is mine, my lord. I was unaware there was another Kim in court.”

Namjoon smirked, “It’s not necessarily something the King would so openly acknowledge.” He tilted his head away from the crowd, signaling her to follow him. As they walked YN could hear more hushed gossip surrounding her, but most of it came from faceless individuals - no one of importance. “You’ve managed to cause quite a stir in your short time here, my lady.”

“It wasn’t my intention to do so.”

“Still I am not surprised, a woman as beautiful as yourself is bound to cause a ruckus anywhere.”

YN blushed, “You toy with me, my lord.”

Namjoon smirked, a wicked gleam in his eye that said he was. “I would never dare.”

They stopped moving and YN realized Namjoon had maneuvered her away from the crowd, still close enough that they were in the room, but too far away for anyone to hear what was being discussed. YN longed to know why he’d helped her but figured that it hadn’t been done altruistically. The young lord stepped forward, “If I were to be so bold as to offer a word of advice, my lady?” A chill went down YN’s spine and her hand tightened into a fist, wishing Vito was there with her. “You’ve been so bold already,” YN cast her eyes around the room seeing Sana standing by the door speaking to Jinyoung. Her brow furrowed as the two seemed to be in a heated discussion. “I don’t see what harm a bit more could do.” She turned back to Namjoon who seems to have followed her line of sight.

“Are you familiar with your family’s history?”

“I have no family.”

“You are a Kim are you not?”

“It is only a name.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Ah, but what’s in a name?” Once again the lord stepped closer, “May I recommend the story of Soo and So? I think you’ll find it quite an intriguing read.”

“As much as I’d like to, my lord, I own no such story or book. I’d doubt the king is stocked up on history books that do not relate to him.”

“Ah, that is true. What a shame indeed.”

Sana trailed behind her quietly, something YN found quite odd as the girl tended to be incredibly lively. Perhaps Sana pitied her given the circumstance, but that couldn’t be it. The girl had previously stated how much more she enjoyed being YN’s personal maid than having to run around the castle. Maybe she’s tired? Or maybe it had something to do with her conversation with Jinyoung - YN's guard dog. Before they reached the door leading to YN's bedroom Sana suddenly halted. "I'm sorry mistress, but if I could be excused? I'm not feeling all too well." YN was a bit shocked but nodded nonetheless. She was about to ask Sana if there was anything she could do to help, but the maid had already runoff.

YN sighed, unlocking the door to her bedroom. When she entered she noticed Vito was feasting on his latest meal, so YN shed her dress and headed straight for bed. Hoping to catch some sleep before dinner was delivered, her actions stopped when she noted the gift placed on her bed. It was nicely wrapped in fine silk with a ribbon on top, peeling back the layers YN found it was a book. When she opened it, a note fell out:

I could only find the abridged version, apologies - KNJ

YN’s hands ran through the spine and bold lettering at the front, the words ‘Golden Ones’ peering back at her in a metallic red.

Jeon Jungkook had just finished his bath when his peace was once again disturbed by the rasping of knuckles on his door. He groaned asking who it was as he imagined harming whoever deemed themselves important enough to intrude on his time. Imagine the surprise on the young prince’s face when none other than his lover appeared. “Well, to what do I owe this surprise?” YN stood hesitantly by the door consciously trying to convince herself not to back out of the plan. If he was annoyed at her silence he didn’t say anything instead Jungkook tilted his head and asked, “What game are you playing?”

YN stepped into the room, closing the door behind her careful not to turn around. Jungkook was like a predator - eye contact was essential for survival. YN’s eyes danced around the room not finding Morte anywhere in sight. “I’ve decided to not play any games. I know I’ll never beat you.”

Jungkook smirks, eyeing YN's figure up and down. "Well then, this may be the most fun game we've ever played."

YN ambled towards Jungkook, their eyes remaining on each other. Waiting for the moment the other faltered to strike.

“Where’s your pet, my lady?”

“In my bedroom, your highness. He is shedding.”

“Where’s Morte?”

“Where she needs to be.”

As they neared each other Jungkook took a seat at the edge of his bed, encouraging YN to join him. YN straddled Jungkook, trying to calm her racing heart from giving her away. “What am I to you?” Her eyes were wide and honest, as she asked. It had been foolish to think the answer would change.

“My Queen.”

It was the intensity of the prince’s stare that caused YN to look away, her eyes landed on a glass and gold chessboard. “I’ve never been a good player.”

Jungkook chuckled, eyes-rolling. “I doubt that’s true.” His warm breath fanned her neck causing goose-bumps to rise.

“Isn’t the king the most vulnerable of them all?”

Jungkook nods, letting his lips brush against hers trying to draw her attention back onto him. “Which is why he needs a powerful queen.”

YN chuckled, parting her lips and allowing the venom laced words to hit their target. “Good thing, Soojin will be your queen.”

The prince visibly tenses, his hand coming to grip YN’s waist tightly. He forces her to look at him as his eyes filled with a heady mix of lust and rage. “That’s a dangerous game you're playing, love.”

YN shrugs, “I’m not playing a game. I’m only trying to prove a point.”

“Oh?” Jungkook uses his grip on YN’s waist to push them closer together, leaving only centimeters between the star-crossed lovers.

“What you feel or think you feel is not love. It’s infatuation fueled by lust.” YN allowed her lips to brush Jungkook’s, though they never fully kissed. “I’m just a shiny new toy you want to play with until you get bored.”

"I will never tire of you YN, you can be certain of that." Jungkook's tongue swiped across his lips to moisten them. "Though if you are so certain, let's have a wager." Jungkook released his hold on her waist allowing YN to move away. Now that they stood feet apart, it felt as if this was a serious affair. "If what I feel for you is nothing more than infatuation, I promise to let you go." He lifted his palm as if taking an oath.

YN scoffed, “No. If I am right, then you will marry Soojin and make her your queen.” She wasn’t going to fall for his schemes any longer. Jungkook nodded, leaning back to rest on his elbows. When he failed to speak any further YN’s eyes narrowed, “Declare your wager.”

“I think I’ll save mine for later. Makes things more interesting don’t you agree?” Jungkook looked all too pleased with himself, the prince thought everything was under his control. But, just as YN often underestimated him, it seems he had now underestimated her. “So, what’s your big plan to prove your point?”

“Sleep with me.”

#yandere bts #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #ykn #prince of nothing iii #pon #pon iii #girlmeetsliv3

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hypnoticwinter · 3 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 30

“God damn it,” I grunt, tugging again at the padlock. Although the paint on the door is flaking and the hinges are rusty the padlock is shiny and brand new.

“This was the big plan, huh?” Fumi says, and I cast him a venomous look.

“I don’t see you helping,” I point out. He uncrosses his arms briefly to scratch at his chin and then crosses them again, leaning against the chain-link enclosure around the shed.

“What’s in there, anyway?” he asks. “It’s a breathing hole, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Peter told me about it. It’s what he was using to – “ I cut myself off, thinking back to Elena’s reaction when I’d told her Makado and Peter had been smuggling people inside the Pit.

“Using it to what?”

“Nothing,” I tell him. “It doesn’t matter. Goddam it!” I yell, slamming my fist into the door. I can feel a cold touch of panic start to creep up my throat and I swallow hard, trying to will it back down. “It’s okay,” I say, thinking out loud. “There has to be another way in, there just has to. Fumi, do you know any - ?” I stop. He’s grinning at me, like a cat that caught a canary. “What?”

He points. “You notice anything about that door?”

“What - ?” I turn, look it over once more. “What are you talking about?”

Fumi steps past me, shoves the flat of his utility knife into the exposed hinge and levers it upwards with a quick motion, and then hands me the pin. I stare at it and then back at the door. “You have to be kidding,” I say, grabbing my own knife. Fumi is working on the second one down, laughing quietly to himself.

I smack him lightly on the shoulder and then step beneath him, get down on my knees to fiddle with the bottom hinge. “How long ago did you notice the hinges were on the outside?” I ask.

“As soon as you couldn’t get the padlock open.”

“You bitch,” I laugh. “So you were just sitting there watching me tug on it for five minutes?”

“I wanted to see if you’d figure it out,” he grins. “You have that side?”

I nod and then together we slide the metal door off of its hinges and lay it against the fence behind. The shed is little more than a sheet-metal cage surrounding the orifice, obliquely angled and wetly suppurating, about eight feet high and four feet wide. I grimace. “This is going to suck,” I say. Fumi nods.

“That’s an understatement,” he tells me. “Do you have any idea where this lets out?”

I shake my head. “Peter only told me it lead to somewhere in Bronchial. I don’t know much more than that.” I let out a groan. “Just like I don’t have much of an idea where Elena might be.”

Fumi pats my back lightly. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture I guess but it doesn’t make me feel much better. “We’ll find her,” he tells me.

The radio at his belt crackles and belches out a string of static. It makes me jump. There’s a great leaden weight in my stomach and again even though I hate how weak it makes me feel, my hands are trembling. From fear, from anticipation, from…from dread. Dread that I might be too late.

Fumi nudges me. “You ready?” he asks. I nod quickly, swallow hard, and then Fumi is pressing aside the musty flesh of the Pit’s breathing-hole and I, choking down the rising bile, follow him inwards into the twisting folds and venous cavities of the Pit’s lungs.

* * *

“How’d you get out?” I ask him. Fumi grunts, his helmeted head inclining back towards me briefly. I push another alveolar fold out of the way, ducking my head to get beneath the dripping, swinging flap of flesh. The bronchial tissue crinkles beneath my gloved fingers and, not for the first time, a frown of disgust furrows my brow.

I hear a slow breath in my helmeted ears. Fumi had showed me how to link the radios up so we wouldn’t have to yell at each other to be heard over the Pit’s gusting, noxious breaths, but one of the downsides is that it’s a hot mic – you can’t turn it off or you have to redo it each time. Fumi had already gotten into a habit of chuckling at me whenever I let out an unwilling little grunt of disgust every time I stepped in a particularly gloppy bronchial puddle and it made me want to smack him, but so far I was managing to keep my temper in check.

Part of me wants to rush, wants to blast through the tangled and twisting passages of Bronchial like a heat-seeking missile and rip and tear my way down to wherever the hell Elena is and carry her out of here come hell or high water, but a cooler, more rational part of me also knows that this isn’t something that can be rushed, not without us getting hurt as well. If I was moving any more quickly there’ve been at least a dozen places we’ve passed so far where I know I would have fallen, maybe twisted an ankle or – god – hurt my poor broken leg even further. Whatever magic the autodoc was capable of, I don’t think it figured I would be putting in this much use so quickly, and even though I try to treat it gently there is a dull, foreboding bone-deep ache settled heavily into the middle of the bone that makes me worried, makes me wonder how much time I have before I hurt it really seriously.

“I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,” Fumi tells me, and I blink.

“What –“ I start, but he’s already sighed and moved onwards. I rush up to follow him, find him pondering a narrow y-passage.

“I think it’s this way,” he says, pointing to the leftmost one, and before I can ask him if he’s sure or if we’d better check both just in case, he pushes ahead into it leaving me to follow, shaking my head. “I’m not proud of running,” he says. “Back when those two psychos shot the Sergeant. I was almost hoping you’d forgotten that I had.”

I hadn’t forgotten but I also hadn’t really cared. I was almost glad that Fumi had gotten away when he had. Erica and Marcus – I’m not sure whether or not they had even noticed him. “I don’t want you to feel guilty,” I tell him, “because you shouldn’t. They would have shot you just like they shot the Sergeant or Elena.”

“They shot Elena?” he asks, incredulous, and I nod, briefly recounting what happened. He lets out a muffled curse and shakes his head. “Roan, kid…you know there’s a decent chance she’s already dead, right? Even if the bullet missed anything too vital it’s not a good environment down here to have a hole in you. There are some seriously nasty bacteria and -”

“Yeah,” I snap. “I’m aware of that. And don’t call me kid.”

A frosty silence settles over us

“Sorry,” he says after a moment.

“It’s okay,” I breathe, although I’m saying mostly to try and convince myself. “I just – she can’t be dead, okay? She just can’t be.”

The Pit moans again and as before the flesh around us contracts rhythmically. Fumi and I both stop, forced to wait it out.

“I’m not trying to judge,” Fumi says, “but you’ve only known her for what, a week? Tops? Is the tail really that good?”

“Oh, fuck off,” I tell him, not even bothering to hide the serration in my voice. “You know, I heard what you said on the radio that day. Back before the briefing.”

“Refresh my memory.”

“You called Elena on the radio, asking where the new girl from Admin with the tight little ass was, you couldn’t find her to tell her to get to the briefing. I think you mentioned something about how you wouldn’t mind getting her alone and –“

So I embellished a little. He was squirming and I felt like being vindictive.

“I’m not proud I said that,” Fumi says, cutting me off, and there is a softness to his voice that makes me stop. The moan croaks out to a halt and with a shudder the flesh around us draws back and opens up. He turns and looks at me; the helmet pushes his cheeks together, makes him look like a dwarf, all ruddy cheeks and thick black beard. “If it’s any defense, I didn’t know you were listening. You were with Elena?”

“Yeah.”

“Even back then?”

“She was showing me the little graveyard,” I tell him. Unwillingly my lips quirk up into a smile. “I think I would have kissed her then if you hadn’t interrupted.”

Fumi laughs. “That’s rich,” he says. “You kiss people in a graveyard?”

I roll my eyes at him, push him forward. “Well, because of you I had to wait until the party. I don’t think either of us worked our nerve up again until then.”

“I knew she was into you,” Fumi mentions, starting off again. “That’s the reason I said that in the first place, cause I was trying to tease her. I just didn’t know you’d, you know, literally be right there.”

“You knew? What, did she tell you?”

“You couldn’t tell she was into you until the party?” he asks, equally quizzical, and I feel myself blush, let that one go unanswered.

We walk onwards in silence. Well, relative silence; Bronchial is a rhythmic forest of noise, a low dull rush of wind grinding at the back of my ears even through the helmet. I’d noticed back in the shed that they roof was made of something like chicken wire but even so it was bowed inward severely. I’d initially figured it to just be the weight of the wire itself pulling downwards but now I think it was the suction of the Pit breathing in.

Ten more steps. Fumi and I start to talk at the same time, and then I laugh and tell him to go while he tries to be gallant and tells me to go. I hope he doesn’t think I hate him.

“How did you get out?” I ask him, and he waves his hand.

“Right. The Cord isn’t the only way up, just the fastest. I circled back around, took a couple of elevators, and then high-tailed it all the way up. You can make it in about a day, if you hustle. I grabbed Makado as soon as I got up and told her what had happened and she locked everything down, sent me to the barracks for ‘rest.’ I think she was just worried I’d tell everybody what I’d seen. Then…I don’t know. I guess she went down herself, hot-rodded an IAV all the way down to the place you were. The fungal zone? We’re not supposed to go down there normally, it’s…ecologically unstable.”

“It was horrible,” I murmur, thinking of Peter. Thinking, unwillingly, of Klaus.

It was a familiar feeling, that rush of panic and then of calm, of everything clicking together and smoothing out, once I’d shot him. I had stood over him, the gun clutched loosely in my hand, still trained on him even though it was empty and the slide had locked back once I’d shot that last magic bullet, one in the chamber, Marcus’s parting gift to me from beyond the grave. I had stared at Klaus until he had lain still for quite a while and then I had knelt down next to him and grabbed the magazine from the floor, slotted it back into the pistol and released the slide, and then I went outside and had a good cry.

Fumi nudges me and I realize I’ve zoned out while he was asking me something. “Why do you like Elena? Really,” he repeats. “I’m curious.”

I give him a little grunt to indicate that I’m thinking about it. “She’s kind to me,” I say finally. “She knew I wouldn’t be able to cut it down there from the very start. She tried so hard to keep me out of the Pit and then once I was in she took care of me the whole way. She has a…a very strong sense of right and wrong. She doesn’t compromise for anything.”

I glance over at Fumi. The passage has widened enough at this point that we can walk side by side. He stays silent. He wants me to keep going, of course, but I don’t see any harm in it so I oblige him. “She was the first girl I had sex with,” I tell him, studying his reaction closely. He looks over at me, holds my gaze for a moment, and then looks away.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yeah. The night of the party.”

“First love,” he says. I laugh.

“A new experience, maybe,” I concede.

“Is it much different?”

“Hmm?”

“From being with a man. Is it different?”

I think about it. “Very,” I tell him. He nods.

“I mean,” he grins, “you’d think it would be, but I would never know…”

I elbow him lightly and then dodge the one he throws back at me. We walk on for a while further.

“You know,” Fumi starts, and then stops.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Oh, shut up,” I growl at him. “What is it?”

“No,” he says, pushing a fold of flesh out of the way. “It really is nothing, I was going to say something but I thought better of it.”

“Just tell me.”

He looks back at me for a moment, then shrugs. “I was going to say,” he says slowly, “that in all honesty Elena and I are not on the best of terms.”

“Oh?”

“A little while before you showed up, I had to turn her down. She didn’t take it very well. Made some…colorful comments about my heritage. Which are completely untrue, I might add.”

“Turn her do – oh,” I finish. I can feel my cheeks color beneath my helmet.

“You can see why I might have thought better of telling you something like that.”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me,” I say firmly. “That’s the past and whatever decisions she made were ones she made then, not now.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asks. “I mean, really – I’m just curious. I’m not trying to make you doubt yourself if that really is true.”

“Aren’t you angry at her?” I say, sidestepping the question. “I mean, if she came on to you and then acted like a bitch about it afterwards…”

“What I’m trying to say is, that was a particularly Elena thing to do.”

I think about that for a moment and then I find myself smiling. “Fumi…are you trying to tell me Elena is a slut?”

“That’s such a harsh word,” he says. “But…yes.”

“Are you afraid I’m going to get hurt? How big brother of you.”

“Please. I just think it’s something you ought to know about. Besides, if you’re as involved as you say you are with her, I’m sure she told you herself.”

That does make me stop. “She didn’t actually,” I say. Fumi raises an eyebrow. I can just barely see it beneath the glass pane of the helmet. “She told me that there was sex, occasionally. You know, between team members, but never any sort of emotional attachment. It would, I don’t know, disrupt the group dynamic or whatever.”

“Mm,” he grunts. “That’s maybe the idealized version of it, I guess. All I can tell you is that her and Slate were pretty hot and heavy for a while but they broke it off, I don’t know, maybe a month or two ago.”

I think about that, roll it around in my mouth. I don’t much like the taste. Slate had grown on me over the short time I’d known him but not that much. I think about him and Elena, about her flashing that dazzling smile at him, about him grinning that sly, knowing, fox’s grin at her, about his hands encircling her waist, cupping her lithe, muscular ass, and I feel a little spark of jealousy flare up in my stomach. Then I take a breath, deliberately, and let it out.

The night that Slate died Elena and I had held each other tightly in our tent and she had come close to crying but hadn’t. I’d told her it was okay and that if she needed to talk about it she could, but she had just shaken her head. There was grief in her eyes but it was low and cool and detached. We had held each other and I had traced my fingers up and down her naked body but we hadn’t made love. It had been too serious for that. I wanted her to know that I cared about her, that she had more meaning to me to me than just as a series of orifices. In the morning she had kissed me awake and had smiled so brightly that for a moment I’d thought the sun was rising, right there in the belly of the Pit, and it had all been okay.

“What are you smiling about?” Fumi asks, and I laugh. I almost trip on a tumorous, fleshy nodule growing out of the floor and he catches me, puts me back upright again.

“I was thinking about Elena,” I tell him, and he shakes his head, grin sprouting amid his forest of a beard.

“I could have told you literally anything about her and you’d still be head over heels for her, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “The last relationship I was in wasn’t the best.” I shrug. “I only stayed in it for as long as I did because I – because I made some bad decisions and I figured that everything I touched turned to shit. Thor – my ex-boyfriend – he didn’t. So I clung to it way, way longer than I should have.”

“His name was Thor?”

“It was a nickname. His real name was Richard.”

Fumi nods. A little more silence passes, and then he nudges me.

“At least you have some self-awareness about it,” he says.

“Oh, I didn’t for a long time. But I’ve had a lot of time to do some soul-searching recently,” I say, formalizing masses of incoherent thoughts that have been bunching behind my eyes for at least the past two days, if not longer. “And I decided I wasn’t going to fuck this one up, if I could help it. I don’t care if she’s been wild, I don’t care if she’s a slut, she’s been kind to me. That’s what matters.”

Do I mean that? Is that what my soul thinks? Am I just trying to make myself feel better after discovering the Elena isn’t a saint? I think back to that first night that I kissed her, drunk and urgent on the steps of the barracks, the crickets playing symphony and the fireflies fluttering in a spangled backdrop. I think back to the way the hair on the back of my neck had stood up, to the tingling feeling in my stomach when her hand had knitted into my hair and held me closer to her.

The Pit’s lungs are interminable. Way after winding way, passage after passage. It’s only been about a half hour or so but it feels like ages. Fumi is of the opinion that we ought to head down to the Control Center and raid their armory, get some real firepower. Between the two of us we have two little .45-caliber pistols, that’s all, and even then we wouldn’t have them if Fumi hadn’t known where Crookshank had kept them stashed.

I’d accepted mine with hesitation but I knew it would have been the height of stupidity to go down here without being armed. My skin had crawled and I had felt a little like throwing up as I’d taken it from him, as the reliable weight of the pistol settled into my palm, and then I had slipped it into my holster and after a while I was able to forget that I was wearing it, that it was hanging off of my side ready to use.

But a .45 won’t do a lot to some of the things down here. That’s his argument, that he keeps repeating, while I, with mounting frustration, point out to him that the longer we wait, the more danger Elena almost certainly is in. I want to head straight down to the terminus of the Cord and look around for her. We bicker about it for a while until I, with some surprise, take a step around another alveolar fold and find my cleated boots clanking on metal grating. I let out a whoop and charge forward, pushing through another tight sphincter-like gap, and then I burst out into a long hallway, the same one Peter described to me – Jesus, just a few days ago. Or has it been a week already? I’m not sure. I don’t know what day it is, how long this misadventure has been perpetuated for. I turn back around and grin at Fumi, open my mouth to say something stupid, and then something bowls into me, sends me pitching forward. I catch myself but only just, and then something chitinous and hissing and many-legged is crawling over me and wave of white-hot revulsion floods into my stomach.

I reach back and batter at it but just from the angle I can’t do anything to it. It fixes its jaws to my shoulder, cutting through the suit like paper and I cry out in pain. I scrabble for my holster but succeed only in knocking the gun from it, sending it clattering across the metal floor. Fumi rushes forward, crying out my name, but the thing on top of me tugs hard at my shoulder and starts to drag me off. I manage to roll over onto my back and see something like an enormous louse, just inches away from my face, faceted eyes staring into mine. Its enormous mouthparts are coated in blood and my stomach flips as I realize it’s mine, leaking from my shoulder.

“Roan!” Fumi cries. He has his pistol out but he can’t get a bead on it, it’s too close to me.

“Help me!” I call out as the insect pulls me backwards another few feet. I’m too heavy for it to really manage, it’s not quite as much of a monster as an abyssal copepod is, but it feels as though it’s going to bite my arm off at the shoulder, and although I flail at it it just won’t let go –

I draw back and with all of my strength smash it in the face with one gloved fist, and to my shock it hisses and drops me. Immediately I roll out of the way, letting out a screech of pain when my shoulder makes contact with the ground and the jarring of it sends white-hot knives scurrying up my nerves, and then there is a thunderclap nearby and something thumps into the insect. The thunder roars two, three, four more times, and then Fumi is rushing to me and helping me up while my ears ring and the insect shudders quietly to itself as it dies, its head blown apart like a rotten pumpkin.

I sit there in silence as the ringing fades and Fumi washes the cut out with disinfectant, bandages my shoulder, applies an analgesic spray to it, patches me up. The cut apparently is deep but clean and didn’t, as far as he can tell from my range of motion, cause me any permanent damage. I sit there and shudder as the adrenaline gradually leaves my system, and then when he’s done he sighs heavily and sits down next to me.

“You doing okay?” he asks, me, and I nod slowly.

“What was that thing?”

“Just a lesser copepod.”

“Just?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Not an especially big one. Like the abyssal’s smaller, dumber, higher-depth counterpart. Minus the hands.”

I bury my head in my hands. There is a thick knot of worry in my stomach and I don’t know if I can untangle it alone. Fumi clearly doesn’t know what to do about me. “Roan, are you okay?” he keeps asking. He rests his hand gently on my shoulderblade and it makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time.

“How could she still be alive?” I say. It comes out almost like a sob. “If there’s shit like this up here where everything’s – where everything’s mostly harmless, how could she be alive? Something will have gotten her by now, something will have –“

“Roan.”

“Oh god,” I say. “She’s dead because of me, because I was stupid enough to think that she wouldn’t try and attack Erica, she’s dead because –“

“Snap out of it!” Fumi barks at me.

I give him a bleak look. “We should just go back.”

“Roan,” he says, “would Elena give up on you?”

I open my mouth, and then I shut it. Fumi raises his eyebrows at me.

And so with nothing left to say I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak, and then we get up and head off down the hallway, following the signs marked Control Center.

* * *

I check my pilfered wristwatch again and shift anxiously from foot to foot. Fumi’s been inside the control room for five minutes already. I can’t hear anything over all of the claxons blaring, here outside in the fat little corridor leading up to it, up two flights of stairs and behind another one of those horrible submarine doors. Worry’s gnawing at me, somewhere deep down in the pit of my stomach; what if they know Fumi and I are in cahoots? What if something’s wrong in there, what if he ran into Makado, or the FBI, or…

I bite my lip hard. Around me the Pit quakes again and rattles the little metal pod of the Control Center like someone shaking a tin of mints. I feel like an Altoid. It’s incredible how much less safe I feel inside here, with the high-tech stabilizing arms straining hard against the Pit’s gullet. I’d rather ride this out in Bronchial any day; Bronchial was comforting, even, because whenever the Pit moaned and grunted and flexed, all of the little flaps and craggy little polyps and bulbs and what the hell ever else all flopped over and covered us like a fullbody hug and just held us there, gently, almost, like the Pit was telling us that it would be okay.

I shake my head. “I have got to get out of here,” I mutter, and then I reach over and open the door and stride in and immediately find myself in the middle of a sea of chaos.

There are a couple more nerds here than before and they’re all up to their eyeballs in flashing lights and alarms, each of them on the phone or muttering into a headset or clustered around a fancy-looking holographic unit that displays a three-dimensional image of something that looks like a fat, squat beetroot that I assume is a model of the Pit. Fumi is talking to one of the nerds, rather urgently, his helmet unclasped and hanging at his side, his fingers hooked under the rear lip of it. He glances over when the door opens and sees me and his expression darkens. He’d told me to stay outside; I had given him a rundown of what Makado had done on the way up, through Bronchial and then into the main gullet of the Pit, and he’d said it would be safer if he went in alone and did the talking, after all, at least four of the nerds had seen me with Makado, they surely would have known what I was supposed to be going down for, but I had gotten so worried –

Nobody’s paying any attention to me. Scarcely anybody even bothered to look up when the door opened, and of those that did they met my tight, anxious face with blank stares and unfamiliar visages. I slip inside, duck behind a nerd rushing past with a stack of papers under his arm and slip over to Fumi. The man he was talking to has given him a shake of the head, with finality, and moved away into a back room that I know is a briefing or conference room. The last time I saw it it had takeout containers all over the place; I wonder if they’ve done any cleaning up since.

“Why’d you come in?” he hisses, leaning close to me so we can confer. I shrug.

“Got worried. Did you get the guns?”

“That fuck,” he says, jerking his head back at the conference room, “is in charge and he won’t unlock the armory for me. Wants Makado’s permission, which I’m obviously not liable to get, even if we could reach her.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. “Look, why don’t we bust in there and just, I don’t know, take the keys?”

There’s another lurch from the Pit and I reach out, grab Fumi’s shoulder to steady myself. “What, you want to just mug the guy?” he asks.

“We are not coming all this way and not getting any of the hardware out of it,” I hiss. “Elena is dying –“

“Yes,” he barks, and then quiets himself. “Yes,” he says, “I’m aware of our time crunch. But if we do something like that, we’re going to get someone on our ass, and I’d rather worry about the wildlife instead of people. You’re already risking everything by coming in here –“

“Fuck this,” I mutter, and then I cast a wary glance around and slip into the conference room, dodging Fumi as I do.

Inside the conference room I find, amid a nest of takeout boxes, the tall, gaunt man Fumi was talking to, speaking in a hushed tone down the throat of a bright red telephone. He glances up as I shut the door behind myself and does a double-take. “Get out,” he tells me, pointing at the door. “You aren’t allowed in there, I already told your friend that I’d need – wait a minute,” he says. There’s a flutter of butterflies in my stomach while I wait for him to recognize me, and when I does I am momentarily shocked that he pales. He slams the phone down into its cradle and points a finger at me. “You had better stay right there,” he warns me. “I know exactly who you are. I’m going to call the surface right now and get them to send a team right down to get you back into custody. You’ve got some nerve –“

“Look,” I tell him. “Just give us the keys to the armory and we’ll be out of your hair. That’s all we want. We’re trying to help,” I say, and as if to punctuate my argument, the Pit groans again.

“Stay right there,” he repeats, and picks up the phone again. I whip the pistol out of my holster and train it on him.

There’s a sensation in my stomach like I’m falling, like I’ve just taken a leap off a cliff, the same lurch you get when you miss a step in the middle of the night and your brain didn’t think it was there, that same sensation of gutless horror like you’ll fall forever and stop suddenly. The man is staring at me; his eyes are very wide.

“Give me the keys,” I tell him. “I’m not going to ask again,” I say, thinking maybe it’ll sound threatening if by some chance my voice happens not to shake while I’m spitting my one-liners.

A part of my brain is screaming at me that I haven’t thought this through, what am I going to do with this guy once I’ve gotten the keys from him, what am I going to do if he calls my bluff, what am I going to do if –

The keys plonk down on the table and slide over to me. Before I can think I reach out and take them, ball them tightly in my fist. I give the man a look and open my mouth to say something but before I can there is another roar from outside and the ground pitches to the left and knocks us both off our feet. There are yells of surprise and horror from outside in the main room and a new alarm is blaring now, one with a much more urgent tone than any of the others. The gun’s clattered to the floor as well and both I and the gaunt man know it. It’s landed just between us, sprawled in a stack of upended file cabinets, just there on the floor. The red emergency lights gleam off its sleek metal lines and make it look like it’s been drenched in blood.

We dive for it at the same time, and he puts his hand in my face and shoves me away, but not before I can fit a hand around the barrel of the gun. I can’t think, my brain has been replaced with something animal, something screaming in terror, but I can feel my lips draw back in a snarl, and even as he arches his fingers inwards to claw at my eyes, the fist I made earlier snaps outwards like it has a mind of its own and slams with all of the might I can muster square into his face and I feel his nose give beneath my balled fingers, and he shrieks and claps his hands to his face. I grab the gun and train it on him again, a little unnecessarily, getting unsteadily to my feet as the control center, clearly at a very cockeyed angle, slips a few feet further down and nearly knocks me over again.

Fumi bursts in but because of the angle the door slams on his face right after he’s pushed it open. “Roan!” he cries. Through the open door I can hear complete pandemonium outside, but through the alarms and cries and panic I hear something that punches my heart straight up into my mouth, makes time slow down to a trickle, running through my agonized brain to give me more perceived seconds to dwell on the horror: I hear the sound of buckling, groaning metal, and then a loud snapping screech as it finally starts to give.

Continue with Part 31

Back to Table of Contents

#mystery flesh pit #original writing #writing #writeblr #alt lit #spilled ink #thriller #mystery #horror #caving #disaster #romance #Michael Crichton

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

The girl who is gone

Summary: To get hold of Brock Rumlow, his nemesis Steve Rogers is not holding back. He will cross lines if he has to, even if this means to use Brock’s sister to take him down.

Pairing: Cop!Steve Rogers x Reader, Brock Rumlow x Sister!Reader

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, undercover work, investigations, fake identities, light smut, protected sex, making-out, fingering, worried reader, betrayal, sadness, violence, language

Love Undercover Masterlist

“Come on, Wanda.” Waiting for your friend to pick up her phone you roll your eyes as Kitty tries to steal your toast. “Kitty, don’t! I am trying to reach Wanda.”

Ending the call, you sigh deeply. “She wanted me to report back, now that I finally can tell her juicy details she doesn’t answer her phone, Kitty. I wonder what’s wrong with Wanda…”

“Morning, doll.” Steve walks into the kitchen, watching you scold your cat for stealing your food. Your eyes follow his every step as he’s only in his boxer briefs.

“Something wrong?”

Smirking he steps between your legs, places his large hands onto your waist to stroke your skin.

“Not hungry?” Steve leans closer, captures your lips in a soft kiss and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I think I am hungry, Steve. I just don’t want food…” Humming he moves his hands under the shirt your stole from him, not finding panties.

“I thought after the shower you are…satisfied.” The smug bastard smirks, not giving away he can’t get enough of you either. “We should talk about a few things, doll. Sam and Natasha are on their way.”

“Can we not forget about anything for a while. Just give me an hour or two…” Your legs wrap around his waist and you grind against his erection. “I can feel you need a distraction too, Stevie.”

“Love with when you call me like that.” His lips claim yours. He’s caging you with his body, holding you flush against him. Steve groana against your soft pillows as you wiggle your foot to shove his boxers down.

“I want you, Steve. Now…” Husking the words you cup his face. Looking up at him with lust-blown pupils. “Let’s forget anything else…please.”

Steve’s fingers slide through your hair, tug harshly at your strands to force you to expose your neck. He’s pressing his face into your neck, sinks his teeth into your skin and you grasp for his shoulders.

“Steve…”

“Patience, doll. I need to prepare you first. I don’t want to hurt you.” Steve’s voice is lower than usual, and you feel his fingers creep toward your core. “You’re so wet for me, dirty girl.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you don’t show you are embarrassed by his words. No one ever talked to you liked that before, except for Brock, but he didn’t make your knees go weak.

“Stevie…” Your back arches when he slips two fingers into you. Once again ignoring his phone Steve crooks his finger, just watching you fist his shirt as he brushes over your g-spot.

“There…Baby…please…”

“For such a shy girl you are pretty greedy.” He’s smirking now, steel-blue eyes focused on you, and the way you grind your hips Steve retreats his fingers. “I’ll give you something better, Y/N.”

Your shirt lies abandoned on the floor in the living room, just like your socks. Only moments after Steve retreated his fingers, he carried you toward the couch.

Now you are pawing at his back, rock your hips with him as Steve can’t hold back. His hands hold your hips in a tight grip, bring you flush to his pubic bone with every thrust.

“When we…god you feel so good, doll…” Steve’s lips take your breath. He’s moaning against you, pants your name with every roll of his hips. “I need to tell you something later.”

“Steve…” Your nails run down his back to his ass to dig them deep into his flesh. A shudder ripples through his body right before he comes with a grunt of your name. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Where shall I start.” Steve nuzzles his face into your neck, wraps his arms around your naked body. “Brock burned your apartment down. Sam called me yesterday. I am sorry but he believes your step-brother is looking for you.”

“How’d you know so much about my step-brother? How can Sam know about my apartment?” Steve tries to find a way to tell you about his job but his phone starts ringing once again.

“I swear I’ll tell you everything when we had a shower and breakfast. Let me answer this call, I think it’s Sam. I hope you can forgive me…” Steve’s words make no sense to you.

Why should you have to forgive him? Why does Steve look like he killed your cat?

“Steve? What’s wrong?” You’re worriedly looking up at Steve, slide your fingers through his hair and you know something is wrong when his smile fades. “Stevie?”

“I…I wasn’t completely honest Y/N. I know this will hard to…” His phone rings again and you groan as he pulls out of you to discard the condom without telling you what’s wrong.

“Take the call and then you will tell me what’s wrong, Steve. I trust you, I…I love you so whatever happened, just tell me.” Steve’s lips gently press against yours before he gets up to answer his call.

“What’s wrong, Sam?”

“Steve, I’ll have a shower and prepare breakfast. We can talk later.” Stealing Steve’s shirt, you give him a wink before running toward the shower.

A shy smile on your lips you step out of the shower. Steve’s shirt still lies on the bed you shared last night, and you can’t stop your hands from grasping for the fabric to press it to your nose.

While you sway with the shirt in your hands you hear something vibrate in one of the nightstands.

You want to ignore it, want to get dressed but your noisiness gets the best of you and you open the drawer to find your phone.

“What the…? Wanda…” Grabbing the phone you answer the call.

“Slow down, Sam. I know I fucked up, man. I just couldn’t stay away from her. I never…” Running one hand down his face Steve tries to find the right words to describe his feelings for you. “I never felt like that before.”

Steve paces around the room, yells now and then into the phone to make sure Sam knows he’ll fight for you.

“I…I love that girl.” The words leaving Steve’s lips let Sam fall silent.

He knows his friend and partner; he knows there is no way he can make Steve leave you. “I just need a few hours to tell her about my job, her brother, and that I’ll protect her. I will not let her be part of this investigation, Sam.”

“What do you mean with you need her help! No. Sam. I said no!”

Steve’s voice raises and he can hear you close the door of the bedroom. He assumes you heard him yell and want to grant him privacy. Steve doesn’t know you want to talk to Wanda in private.

“Fuck!” Sam curses, tosses his phone onto the backseat. “He’s out of his mind! How can our best man, the one bringing a whole Empire down, fall for a girl, and lose his mind?”

“Chill, Sam. Stevie deserves a nice girl by his side. We will bring Brock down without the girl. Pietro gave us his statement, just like his sister. We have the video and it’s only a matter of formalities.” Bucky stretches his legs groans low as Sam shakes his head.

“We thought so last time too, Bucky. Do I have to remind you what happened last time? Your solo run cost you an arm, do you want to give him the other too?” Sam’s jaw ticks, remembering the fear in your eyes. “The girl is already in too deep.”

“Sam, we can keep her out of the shit.”

“In the past, we tried to keep the other witnesses out of this shit too, Bucky! If I recall right, we lost all of them. If Steve messes up, and he will, as Y/N is scared of cops then she will run to her brother.” Sam’s voice rises with every word leaving his lips.

“I don’t think she would run to her brother. Not after she got to know her nightmares weren’t bad dreams. Y/N is a smart girl, Sam. Now let’s calm the fuck down and find a way to tell the girl her brother is a piece of shit.” Bucky exhales.

“First, we need to make her see that we are not the bad guys, Bucky. You did not see her reaction when we mentioned cops. Pure unadulterated fear was in her eyes, James.”

Sam pushes his car to its limit. “I should be the one telling her so. I don’t think she will trust Steve any longer…”

“I don’t care about your shit, agent whatever your name is! I want to call my best friend!” Wanda throws a vase at Clint, glaring at him as he tried to take her phone. “Give me my phone or I swear I’ll not cooperate.”

“You can’t call her right now, Ms. Maximoff. I promise in a few hours she’ll call you. I need to make sure Ms. Y/L/N is safe.” Clint tries to calm Wanda but she’s too worried to remain calm.

“She’s in danger! Brock was after me to find her! Do you know what he’ll do to get her and even worse, what he will do if he finds my friend?” Yelling at Clint Wanda pokes one finger into his chest. “She all alone!”

“Ms. Maximoff, Y/N is not alone. She’s safe and sound. I can assure you she’s not in danger at the moment.” Clint tries once again to calm Wanda, but she narrows her eyes before attacking him with her hairbrush.

“That guy is a social worker, you idiot! How can he defend my girl?”

“He’s one of our best…” Wanda takes a step backward, not believing Steve lied to you. “Steve will protect your friend. According to Sam’s report, he likes her…a lot.”

“Likes her…right.” Silently sitting onto the bed Wanda feels her throat tighten. “I need to be sure she’s safe. Give me five minutes. Please…”

“I’ll give you five minutes. No talking about your whereabouts or Brock. Sam and Steve will pour her in today, okay. Just tell her you are alright and nothing else.”

“Wanda…Babe…I…” Giggling you take a deep breath. “I did it! He was…and…god. He’s all muscles and musk. When he touches me, my body vibrates and he…he made me cum with his fingers, and tongue and…” Your smile fades as your friend is not her usual bubbly self.

“Wanda? Babe…what’s wrong?” Falling to your knees you cover your mouth with one hand to make sure Steve can’t hear you. “Are you…are you sure, Wanda? Is there no doubt?”

Tears slip down your cheeks and you need all your strength to not grab his shotgun and shoot him. “He said Steve is one of their best. That he’ll protect me until Sam comes here?”

Your hands shake while your heart clenches in your chest.

“How could you have sex with me? How could he use me to get hold of Brock? I was right…all cops are monsters. Hold on, Wanda. I’ll come and get you. We will get out of this and then, I’ll never have to think about Steve Rogers ever again…”

“Y/N? Doll, are you ready for breakfast?” Opening the door to the bedroom Steve gasps as you ram the handle of his shotgun into Steve’s face.

“I am not your doll you piece of shit!” Spitting into Steve’s face as he tries to get back up you try to hold back the sobs. “I knew all cops are bastards, monsters. I thought I can trust you…”

“Doll! Wait, I can explain.” Unlocking the shotgun, you aim it toward Steve’s head.

“You can explain shit, Steve. You fucked me! You used me to get hold of my brother and now you tell me you can explain the situation.” Tears run down your face freely as you step away from Steve.

“I lied, that’s true but I love you, Y/N. Please believe me that…” The handle of the gun hits Steve’s face again and he loses consciousness.

“You are not better than Brock. He would’ve forced me and you…you used false words and tricked me to get me into your bed. Disgusting bastard…”

When Steve wakes he’s handcuffed to the heater. His head is pounding but the worst is, you are gone. Most of your belongings are still in the bedroom but your jacket, purse, and one duffle bag are gone.

“Steve? Steve where the heck…” Stopping in his tracks Bucky looks at Steve with wide eyes. “What happened?”

“She found out…” Steve’s eyes fill with tears as he looks at Sam. “She’s gone, Sam. We need to find her. You need to find her…please…”

“I am on it. Let me call Natasha and Scott. They are on their way to join us. Leave this to us, Steve. You should call Wanda and ask her if there’s a place Y/N would go to.”

“I can’t lose her, Sam. Please.” Steve’s voice trembles as he takes the phone out of Sam’s hands. “I love her…”

Love Undercover Tags

@aubageddon91, @an-awkward-human-1, @the-soulofdevil, @s-t-r-i-k-e-us, @captainchrisstan, @shippers-heart, @operation-spot, @rentheanonymous

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#Love Undercover Masterlist #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #cop au #cop!steve x reader #Cop!Steve Rogers #Cop!Steve Rogers x Reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel series #marvel au #angst #smut #The girl who is gone

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Note

Hey... I just got dumped by my boyfriend and I was wondering if I could get something with either Bakugou or Kirishima finding out that the reader was dumped and trying to comfort her but ending up confessing. Sorry if it's too specific

FUCK THAT GUY

YOU DONT NEED HIM SIS! BYE BOI BYE

I know it's hard right now but every shitty thing happens to make way for something new and something ten times better. I'm sending my love and here is an emergency fic for you. Depending on time I might add kiri later. XOXO -kitten

"Wow really stopping for 'water'." He growls but you pay him no mind. More than eager to check your phone to see what your boyfriend is up to.

"Can it Bakubastard." A hiss as you phish your phone from your bag, unlocking it in a swift motion before the whole world stills.

And then stops.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you read the text message for what feels like the thousandth time in the span of a few nanoseconds.

Breathing suddenly becomes difficult as your vision blurs, a cold sweat settling over your skin as your heart detaches itself. Splitting in two just to rest like a brick in your stomach and a throbbing lump in your throat.

You choke and it quickly turns into a broken sob as you read aloud what was possibly the worst news you could receive from someone you loved so dearly.

And had spent so much of the past two years with.

"I've found someone else.....Good bye forever Y/N."

No.

Nononononononononononononononono

FUCKING NO!

You didn't fight this hard to keep this relationship afloat just for it to fucking fail. Fat droplets mix with sweat as they run down your cheeks, what was meant to be a quick break in training had turned into a nightmare.

Your breathing hitches as an angry tremor shakes your frame.

Scarlet eyes notice your rigid stance and borderline panting. He notes you're breathing much too hard and much too abnormally for it to be from exertion.

"Oi, brat!" He yells, growing impatient as you choose to give your phone all your attention.

Attention you should be giving him instead of your shitty boyfriend.

"What you can't handle the heat, Princess?!" He taunts stepping dangerously closer, deadly palm reached out to grasp your shoulder.

He doesn't normally like to touch people and even rarer is he jealous that the attention is not on him despite his showy attitude.

You look to him, eyes clouded with numb tears as shock begins to settle in, his touching you brings you back to Earth only for it to crumble beneath your feet. His eyes widen and for a moment he thinks he is the cause of your tears but when scarlet eyes spot that damned contact with heart emojis by the name he begins to see red.

Red that deepens when he actually READS the text displayed on your screen. You lock it quickly, wiping at the tears that spill over.

"Its nothing. Its fucking nothing." You answer before he can explode, "Just fucking fight me you asshole."

You shove him back into the training circle feeling angrier pushing down the sadness that bubbles to the surface.

He wants to tell you no, that fighting while emotionally impaired is worse than fighting drunk but as he watches your delicately powerful form get into stance he growls. Mirroring your movement and allowing you the first move.

You lunge fist raised only for it to be caught. Using the stopped inertia to your advantage you quickly grab hold of his forearm to hold yourself as you swing your left leg high.

Your foot connects beautifully to his toned forearm instead of that damned face. He narrows his eyes no longer wearing a taunting smirk as he become serious.

He wraps a muscled arm around your lifted leg and your own forearm, twisting his body to build momentum.

Spinning around once flinging you into the air backed by a powerful explosion.

You somersault, hands instinctively grasping for something before you take in a deep breath.

Landing on your feet like a cat, lunging again and this time with more wrath.

More rage as the text burns into your retinas pounding your solid fists into Bakugo's forearms shaped in an X.

Sending enough force it reverberates through your own bones, skin blooming in deep splotches of purple beneath your own moody knuckles.

Bakugo does nothing to counter, seeing each opening you have and choosing not to attack.

Waiting for you to tire yourself out which comes quickly, as you send your last fist, hearing your boyfriend, or should you say EX boyfriend's voice velvet soft in your ear.

"I'll love you until the end of time."

"I've found someone else."

Mixing the phrases together until your stomach clenches and the bubbling sadness finally erupts in the form of hot tears.

The fist connects causing dust to plume in the air as he slides back a couple of inches. Scarlet still glued to you as he watched your body shudder, before it quakes, knuckles still kissing forearms before you finally crumble body shaking from the weight of your tears.

From the weight of your heartbreak while soft eyes watch the strongest person he knew crumble before him.

You let your arm fall and then he encircles you with his own. You cling to him then, knuckles turning white as they fist his quickly dampening shirt. Shoving your face into tense muscles as you openly sob.

Loudly enough it attracts other students only for them to shy away once they get a glimpse of the death stare that Bakugou serving. That and his deadly aura in general. If it could he seen it would be an all consuming black and deep blood red as his murderous intent floods the universe.

But he can't just go out and murder this asshole right now, you need him.

You really fucking needed him, slowly your tears dry up as you hic, gasping for breath feeling utterly stupid to cling to someone who probably barely considers you a friend.

"Bakugou...I'm sorry I..." He squeezes you tighter to him, growling as he does.

"No, FUCK THAT GUY! Don't apologize for what that shit bird did. He's a fucking idiot to let you go."

"Y...you're just saying that." Blush creeps in your cheeks as your proximity to Bakugo becomes painfully obvious. You swallow thickly worried he's only giving you pity instead of his normal gruff self. He scoffs before taking in a deep breath.

"I'm not just fucking saying that. You know I don't lie to spare people's feelings. I fucking mean what I say. Always." He bites out venom aimed wholly at someone he's never had the displeasure to have met, "I would never pull this bullshit with you. As much as you piss me off your smile makes me happy. And I'll do anything to protect your smile, Princess."

Your heart beats on the ribs in your chest, banging on its boned cage desperately wanting to be free. He presses venom soaked lips tenderly onto your forehead.

You breath out a shaky sigh but he goes on.

"You don't have to return my feelings anytime soon. Or hell maybe you won't ever feel that way about this Bakubastard just know that I'll protect you. I will *win* for you and be sure you win too. Cause I've always been your Bakubastard."

#bakugo comfort #bakugou comfort #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha comfort #bnha asks #bnha ask prompt #bnha ask

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beerecordings · 4 years

Text

“Hey. Hey. Marvin?”

He jolts to attention on the third word, shocked like a cat who’s just seen a cucumber, putting a hand over his heart and letting out a low, frantic, shaken breath. “Schneep, you fuck!” he laughs, his hands trembling around the paper bag. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Henrik regards him carefully from the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. Marvin’s heart thuds so loud he can hear it. Is this another ‘what’s going on?’ talk? Now he’s getting it from his little brothers as well as Jackie?

“I did knock,” says Henrik.

“Oh. I guess I was distracted.”

“You got take-out.”

Marvin’s eyes flicker down to the bag of food in his hands, quickly pushing one of his crystal balls out of the way to make room. Noodles and Company. Japanese pan noodles. He doesn’t even like this shit, but it was close and it was open and he hopes that the kid will. The kid has to. He hasn’t been eating anything. Marvin feels like he’s about to lose his mind. He wants to shove Japanese pan noodles down his fucking throat. He lets out a wild little giggle, pushing his hair from his eyes. What is he thinking?

“Are you not getting enough to eat at dinner?” asks Henrik. “We did finish off the kima in one sitting.”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I got enough kima. I just, uhhh.”

Why was he stupid enough to let Henrik catch him with this? He quickly pushes the second bag behind the table. He can explain some things, maybe, but not that. What does he say?

“I guess I’ve just been hungry.”

Henrik’s voice goes very soft, his eyes steady and dark in the evening light. “I worry you’re losing weight.”

Marvin blinks, glancing around his room. There’s a slight motion at Henrik’s side and Marvin sees that Chase is standing shyly beside him in the hallway, blinking at him with his big blue eyes. He touches his stomach, self-conscious.

“No,” he manages after a moment. “I think I’m doing okay.”

He is losing weight. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want them to notice.

“Have you been throwing up?” asks Henrik, in a voice impossibly softer still and entirely uncharacteristic. “Or eating a lot at one time, maybe, and then throwing up?”

Oh, fuck.

“No!” he tells them quickly, almost gasping on the rejection. “No, no, I don’t have bulimia or anything, Schneep, I’m fine, I was just hungry! Just tonight. Geez, you little twerps, give me some space, okay?”

A forced laugh shoves its way out of his mouth. Henrik and Chase exchange looks. Marvin turns away from them, hunched over the noodles, biting down hard on his lip.

“Marv,” says Chase’s familiar voice, laid low. “I know you been sneaking food back to your room. And you’ve stopped going out with Jackie to look for my little brother. Are you feeling okay?”

Is he feeling okay? Is he okay?

The truth is that since it’s started, it’s only gotten worse, worse and worse with every day that passes. The guilt haunts him in his dreams, gnawing on his organs and ribs like he’s a split-open pig with an apple in his mouth, making him feel sick and numb intermittently without relief. His mind wanders back to the boy constantly despite his best efforts, his temper boiling and his moods shifting wildly as his rationale assesses and re-assesses with every hour that passes. He can’t sleep. Eating makes him guilty. The sight of himself is a stab to the chest – which is only one of the reasons he’s covered up the mirror in his room.

He feels like he’s dying.

Chase’s hand comes down on his shoulder, the warm fingers wrapping lovingly around his muscle and bone. He shudders once and then, for a moment, rests. For a moment, peace beneath his hand.

“You gotta tell us what’s going on, man,” murmurs Chase. “You been with me through the darkest parts of my life and I can tell that you’re hurting. You gotta tell us.”

Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.

Oh, he wants to. He wants to. He wants to fall against Chase’s chest. He wants to let Henrik soothe his hand through his hair as he looks him over for injury, for illness. He wants Jackie to wrap his powerful arms around him and tell him everything will be alright, he’s here, we’ll figure this out, together like we always have. Together like a family.

And then he imagines the looks on their faces if they knew.

“I’m fine!” he shouts, shoving Chase’s hand away and whirling on his little brother, who stumbles back in surprise. “I said I was fine, didn’t I? So why the fuck are the two of you still in here instead of off minding your own fucking business?”

“Don’t you dare!” shouts Henrik, his concern snapping open and oozing out furious aggression in a second, stalking forward and putting himself between the two of them. “Don’t you dare yell at him!”

“Then leave me alone!”

“Please stop!” cries Chase, grabbing the back of Henrik’s coat. “Marvin, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but we don’t have to get shouted at just because you’re going through something and won’t let us help.”

His eyes glitter with tears. Marvin turns his head away hotly, trying to swallow down the horrible welling of the guilt, the guilt, the guilt, stinging through the whole of his body. He can’t breathe. He can’t make any of this stop. Everything’s just getting worse and it’s his fault.

All your fault.

“I hope you’ll tell someone when you’re ready,” croaks out Chase, turning to go before he can really start crying. “All anybody wants to do is help.”

Henrik and Marvin stand across from each other, gazes set and angry and confused all at once. Marvin’s eyes flicker away.

“I don’t know if one of your boyfriends is treating you badly or if you’re high or what,” hisses Henrik, and if Marvin didn’t know better, he’d almost have thought Henrik was on the verge of tears too. “But if you ever yell at him like that again – ”

Marvin throws his crystal ball with all the rage he can muster.

Henrik gasps, closing his eyes as it shatters against the wall beside his head, only missing him by a few inches, covering the floor in glass and whatever liquid was kept inside. Marvin stares with wide eyes at the mess he’s made. He didn’t even mean to throw it.

Henrik does not move. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open. Body tense with fear, his arms crossed more tightly around himself than they were a moment ago.

“Henrik,” says Marvin, in a voice that wavers.

Henrik turns and runs, slamming his door shut behind him.

Marvin sinks down to his knees, breathing hard.

“What am I doing?” he whispers. “What am I letting myself become?”

Tell them. Tell them. Tell someone. Anyone. Please.

He doesn’t.

He picks up his noodles and his second bag and he pulls the covering gently back from the mirror on his back wall, stepping inside on shaking feet.

He has to get the kid his dinner.

Lately, Jamie seems hardly to move.

He hasn’t always been like this. Marvin’s sure. He hasn’t. He used to just cry and cry. He was terrified of Marvin. Terrified of being a prisoner again, like he has been his whole life. But then – well, Marvin’s brain likes to tell him that the Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. The guilt – oh, it is a familiar enemy these days, the guilt like a dragon rotating in his stomach, breathing fire and ice – the guilt coils in his gut and makes him feel nauseous.

He wishes the kid was still angry with him. He wishes the kid was still fighting. It would be so much easier if he could pretend Jamie was violent or hateful or dangerous or angry. But he isn’t.

Three weeks, that was all it took. Three weeks and he stopped being afraid, and started being loving.

“You don’t hit me like Anti did,” he had signed once, as though in awe, and Marvin hadn’t even been able to answer. “You just leave me alone and take care of me.”

It was true in a sense. Marvin brought him food and toys and art supplies and even, on request, a violin to play. With each present, Jameson grew fonder and more grateful.

But then the begging had started.

“Marvin? Can’t you stay a little while longer and talk with me? Marvin, couldn’t I come out of my cage for just a little while? Marvin, I’ve been good, please don’t leave. Please, can’t you touch me? Please, can I have a hug, something, please? Marvin, Marvin. I don’t feel good. Please, I need you. Don’t you love me? I’m a good puppet. I’m a good little brother. Please don’t leave me alone again. I can’t take it anymore. Please just touch my hand, just for a second. Please look at me!”

His sign name for him was simple – an M and the word ‘brother.’

Marvin wants to throw up just thinking about it, but even that was better than this.

“Hey.” He knocks on the side of the window, trying to get his breathing back under control. He shouldn’t have been angry with Henrik, but he can’t be angry with Jameson. Not now. He has to make him feel like they’re brothers again. Anything to get him to eat. Anything to just get him to move. “I brought you food. Aren’t you hungry?”

Jameson doesn’t answer.

Jameson doesn’t move.

“Can you even hear me?” asks Marvin, hearing his own voice break. “Are you even there inside your own head anymore?”

Every strand of Jameson’s soft, overgrown hair is unmoving in the silence of the mirror dimension. His small body is tucked into the very corner, pressed to both walls, hugging his knees to his chest.

“I got something for you,” says Marvin, reaching into the second bag. “Super cute, just for you. Look!”

He pulls the big hedgehog stuffie out of its bag, pulling the tag out of its paw. He’s never brought Jamie a toy this big. He’ll have to shove it through the bars of the window. Its chubby brown face smiles widely at him, black eyes shining in the fairy lights decorating the walls of Jamie’s cage.

“Ta-da!” calls Marvin, shaking the stuffie enthusiastically. “You love your animals, don’t you? Look how big. Come here, James!”

But all of his toys have been abandoned on the floor around him. He isn’t even clutching the puppy that he briefly convinced himself was real to his chest. His violin is slumped over in the corner. His puppets are scattered over the untouched bed. Jameson does not move.

“Kid, you gotta come here,” cries Marvin, shaking on the bars over the front of his box. “Please, Jamie! Just tell me what you need! Medicine, a psych eval, something else to eat, something else to play with? You can have whatever you want! Just tell big brother!”

But none of it will move him.

“I’ve never pretended to be a good person!” Marvin screams, slamming his hand down against the wood of the box, not even drawing a flinch from JJ. “I knew what I was doing when I put you in here! I’m protecting my family and that is all that fucking matters. So if you think that this little sad boy act is going to make me feel bad, it won’t. It won’t!”

He strikes the wood again, heaving for air, his head swimming. He thinks he’s going to be sick. His stomach is chewing his intestines up instead of the kima he had for dinner. He’s going to throw up. He’s going to cry. He’s having a breakdown.

“Just tell me what to do,” he sobs, and crumples over the ledge of the box, his hands tearing at his hair, his face in his arms, weeping. “Someone just tell me what to do.”

He knew this was the sacrifice he was making when he locked him away. He knew it would hurt. He knew it would haunt him. But he didn’t know it would be quite this hard. He feels like it’s killing him. How long does he have to do this to keep his brothers safe? He wants someone else to take this terrible weight off his shoulders, this dragon out of his stomach. Why can’t he just tell them?

You know they would just let him go. And then Anti would see him, and Anti would use him, and Anti would kill the only people in the world that you love.

He has to protect Jackie. He has to protect Henrik. He has to protect Chase.

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep doing this.

It registers slowly that he’s never cried in front of Jameson before. He tries to keep the strong front up. He never really cries in front of anyone, actually. He shifts slightly on his arms, trying frantically to brush the tears away, and –

Oh.

Jamie is standing in front of him.

He’s hidden slightly behind the wall, staring shyly out at Marvin with huge blue eyes that look much too much like Henrik or Chase’s for his comfort, but this is something Marvin has mostly adjusted to. What he has never seen before is this level of exhaustion in Jamie’s young face. He is sallow and grey, with deep bags under his eyes. Refusing to eat – or not being able to get up through the weight of his distress – has left his face thin, and his usually oh-so-neat beard and mustache clump patchily around his cheeks and mouth. His clothes are wrinkled from days without changing. He seems to list as he stands.

Marvin stares at him, uncertain, breathing thickly through his nose and wiping his hot red tears away.

Jameson’s mouth parts like a word might come forth. He blinks wearily – Marvin wonders if he was, in fact, unconscious or asleep – and his timid hand moves forward as if to touch Marvin’s.

Instead, he takes the bag of noodles gently from between the bars of the cage, pulling it towards himself. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Marvin’s as he pulls out the black plastic fork, cracks open the little bowl of noodles, and carefully sticks a piece of beef in his mouth.

“Yeah!” cheers Marvin, his voice snapping in half once again, but this time for a good reason. He shoves at his disarrayed hair and stands up straight, coughing on the last of his tears. “Yeah, there you go! That’s right, there you go.”

Jamie’s pale mouth tilts in the smallest smile, blinking numbly across the bars at Marvin. He twirls a noodle on his fork and presses it into his mouth, and when Marvin nods again and babbles praise at him, Jameson seems to settle in some way, his mouth relaxing into the smile, though he’s still got this strange film over his eyes that Marvin doesn’t like or recognize.

“Just eat your pasta and you’ll feel all better,” Marvin reassures, standing in relief at the front of the box, stroking his own wrists to calm himself. “You really are the nicest kid, Jamie, you really are.”

Jameson’s mouth flickers, though the smile does not fade. Marvin stands in front of him, catching his breath, finding his calm again. After a couple minutes, Jamie steps back to his corner and sits down, still looking at Marvin and eating his pasta slowly, his head drooping every now and then, as though he cannot bear to stay awake.

“How can you be so tired if you’re just sleeping all day?” asks Marvin.

Jameson doesn’t answer, his hands picking robotically at his noodles.

“Can you sign? Can you hear me alright?”

Jameson puts a piece of broccoli in his mouth and chews slowly, staring straight ahead.

Marvin would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little unnerved, but more than anything he’s just relieved he’s eating again. “You must be feeling sick, huh? If you don’t get better soon, I’ll pick you up some medicine. And you can have those noodles again if you want, okay? As long as you eat, I’ll get you any food you want, little mister. Yeah?”

James nods slowly and twirls up more noodles, raising his gaze to him.

“Good work,” says Marvin, feeling much more at peace than he did when he came in here fifteen minutes ago. This was what he needed – just to know there were things he could fix a little. He won’t let JJ die. It’s going to be okay. “Thank you, petit-o. I think I need to go sort things out with Schneep, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay? Okay.”

He straightens out his shirt and turns to go. There is a moment of silence, and then – plastic crashing to the floor, hands slamming against the bars of the cage, and a desperate choke like the dead end of a voiceless scream.

Marvin whirls back, alarmed. Jamie is staring at him from behind the bars, his face gritted with distress, shaking his head and crying. His pale fingers grip desperately at the wood of the box, scoring scratches into the edge of it, tears running down his sickly face.

“Fuck’s sake! What?”

“Alone, alone, alone,” signs Jameson, stopping only to curl in on himself and pull at his hair, choking for air. He shakes his head hard, wheezing. “No, no, no!”

“Jameson.” Marvin moves back towards him again. “Hey, calm down. Calm down, it’s okay.”

He stares up at Marvin, making a little noise like a broken squeak that makes Marvin distinctly uncomfortable. Jameson manages one deep breath and then drops out of view for a second, crouching down. He comes back up again with pasta in his hands and quickly puts a noodle in his mouth, chewing quickly, reaching a hand out for Marvin through the bars.

Marvin draws back, alarmed.

“Come on,” he says, shaking his head. “Come on, don’t – hell, Jamie, you’re okay.”

“I’m losing my mind, I’m losing my mind!” He shakes his hands out as he speaks, scratching at his palms between words, groaning with only his breath and jumping slightly, like there’s too much energy in his body and he can’t get it out. It almost reminds Marvin of Jackie when he’s under-stimulated, but he’s never seen peaceful, shy little Jameson acting like this. “I can’t live like this anymore! I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy!”

“Don’t say that,” snaps Marvin, a thrill of fear electrifying his fingers. “Stop it!”

“What am I doing wrong?” Jameson’s hands scream, his body shaking with that horrible energy, his pupils blown wide. “Why can’t I make anybody love me?”

“That’s not – that’s not why – ”

“I can be like your real brothers if you just give me a chance, I promise! I’ll go to medical school! I’ll learn to fight! I can be nice like Chase, I swear! I’m trying so hard! I’m being so good, please!”

“You don’t understand. I’ve explained this to you before!”

“I’ll eat all the pasta you want!” He picks beef off the ledge and puts it his mouth. “I’m so good! I’m so good! I do everything you ask! I did everything Anti asks! Nobody wants me, not even my own brothers. I promise I’d be really nice and good if someone would just let me go!”

“Stop it!” shouts Marvin, and his power bursts out of him without a single warning but for that burning in his fingers, and he sees the boy stagger back just the same as Henrik did. Jameson crashes to the floor, covered in Japanese pan noodles and beef, a streak of magic burned across his cheek, and for a second, Marvin sees the desperation in his eyes – and then he goes dead again.

Jameson rubs at the burn, snuffling softly, his eyes quiet, staring straight ahead. He stands up. Moves to his corner. Sits down. Hugs his knees to his chest. And goes still.

“Jamie?” calls Marvin to his little brother’s back, his heart pounding in his chest. “Jamie, I didn’t…”

Jameson doesn’t move.

Marvin swears and steps back, feeling ill once again.

“What am I doing?” he whispers, rubbing at his forehead.

This is like torture. This is like torturing him. This is what Anti did.

Marvin is finally sick the moment he gets back to his bedroom, falling to his knees beside the little waste bin beside his bed and throwing up until there’s nothing but bile dripping from his lips.

He thinks…

Fuck. Fuck.

He thinks he needs to tell Jackie.

He’s already crying just at the thought of it. He can see the look on his face. The betrayal.

But he doesn’t think he can do this anymore. He’s breaking Jameson completely. He’s tearing himself apart. And he still, after these long months have passed, has no idea how he’s ever supposed to change this situation.

This is what he has to do.

He’s on his feet, feeling unsteady and ill. Talking to Jackie won’t make tonight better, but maybe, maybe, he’ll have some relief in the days to come. Maybe Jackie can help him carry this weight.

He steps out into the hallway and there is blood on the carpet.

Marvin’s own distress dissipates into fear for his family. “Guys!” he cries, all but leaping towards the living room, magic cackling in his fingers. “Henrik! Chase! Jackie?”

“Is that him? Marvin, we’re down here!”

“Chase?” He hurries down the hall towards their little ‘first aid room.’ “Who’s hurt? Is everyone okay?”

“Jackie found Anti!”

He shoves into the room, eyes huge. Chase hurries forward to comfort him, standing back from the table where Henrik is pinning Jackie carefully down, their older brother groaning and heaving with blood and terror. Marvin races past Chase, curling over Jackie’s body, taking his brother’s face in his hands. “Jackie, baby,” he croaks. “Anti did this to you?”

“He doesn’t know where JJ is!” Jackie shrieks, tears running down his face. If Henrik wasn’t holding him, he’d be thrashing. Blood leaks from a wound in his side. “He was taunting me! He said it must hurt to know he was going to take him from me again! He thought he was still with us! Anti doesn’t have Jameson!”

Marvin’s blood runs cold. Even the air panting through his mouth seems to have gone cold.

“Jackie, be calm!” snarls Henrik, shoving him down on the table. “You’re making this worse.”

“My baby brother, my baby,” screams Jackie, throwing his head back and forth. “He ran away and God knows where he is now! Homeless or lost or being fucking trafficked, my little brother! No, no, Jamie! I would have taken care of him, I would have loved him so hard. Why didn’t I make him feel safer, why did I fall asleep, I’ll never fucking forgive myself…”

“Marvin!” snaps Henrik, grabbing his shirt. “Focus! Tell me you have something to calm him down.”

“Right, right, sorry.” What does he have on hand? He thinks he has a calming spell somewhere, but he needs incense, and somewhere in the back of his mind there’s a memory of a spell for pain relief, but right now all he remembers is…

One sleep spell.

He curses himself quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m going to sedate him,” he tells his little brother, and Henrik nods tersely.

Marvin affixes his hands to the back of Jackie’s head, holding him gently, summoning the spell.

“No, no,” sobs Jackie, tearing at his hands. “Let me stay awake. I want to fucking feel this. I want to feel every second of it. I want to remember this hatred when I find the person who’s keeping him from me.”

“Jackie… I…”

“I’ll make them regret being born,” spits Jackie, a sob mangling his fury. “I’ll kill them. Jameson… why didn’t I protect him…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” whispers Marvin, his voice trembling. “You did everything you could.”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” Jackie whispers back, wrapping his fingers around Marvin’s. “I was meant to be guarding him.”

“Go to sleep,” murmurs Marvin. “Go to sleep. In the morning, it won’t hurt so bad.”

He presses into Jackie’s head the same sleep spell that left him unconscious the night he stole Jameson away. For a second, he almost thinks he sees something like recognition in Jackie’s vivid blue eyes – but then sleep is scooping him up, and Jackie’s eyes flicker, and he fades trustingly into Marvin’s hands.

“Thank you,” says Henrik, oblivious to the intensity Marvin is feeling, and he hurries to peel back Jackie’s shirt and begin working on the wound.

“Is he going to be okay?” asks Chase, scooting forward and putting a hand on his shoulder, peering over Henrik at Jackie on the table.

“It will be a painful wound, but he will heal just fine if we can convince him to rest.”

“Do you think… that’s true?” Chase’s eyes flicker up to Marvin’s. “That Anti doesn’t have JJ?”

“Maybe he was just trying to upset Jackie,” mumbles Marvin, stepping back from his brother’s body.

“Jackie would be more upset to know that Anti had JJ and was torturing him,” replies Henrik, shaking his head. “A picture of Jameson in pain would have sent Jackie even more wild than this. It doesn’t make sense. He must really not have him.”

“Is that good news?”

“I’m not sure,” says Henrik uncertainly. “Maybe. Unless someone even worse has gotten their hands on him. It is a big world for a young man who has never known anything but Anti and the 1900s. And Jameson is supposed to be powerful. I fear the people who would seek to use him the same way Anti did. Right, Marvin?”

For a second, Marvin thinks he knows, but then he realizes Henrik is only deferring to the person in the room with the most experience with magic. “Right,” he manages weakly.

“You look pale,” says Chase, back at it with that same much-too-soft voice he used before.

“Chase, take your brother to lie down,” commands Henrik. “I need to concentrate on this.”

“I’m sorry for throwing that at you,” Marvin tells him even as Chase moves around the table to wrap an arm around his waist. “I don’t know what got into me, Henrik, I just…”

“Let’s talk about it when everyone’s calmer,” answers Henrik, not looking up from his work. “Myself included.”

Marvin lets Chase lead him away, listening to his little brother blabber about JJ and Anti and Jackie and Schneep, though he doesn’t seem to take in a word of it. All he can focus on is the warm weight of Chase’s body pressed to his own.

He’s not sure, suddenly, if Jackie would forgive him if he knew what he had done.

He broke Jackie’s heart that day.

Tears threaten to fall and Marvin squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in the smell of Chase, the feel of Chase, the comfort and safety and familiarity of Chase. To his surprise, his little brother has decided to take him to his room instead of Marvin’s, and he’s grateful. He doesn’t want to be in there right now, with the mirror gleaming hatefully beneath its covering, waiting for him to come back and face what he’s done. He just wants to be with Chase.

“Lie down with me, yeah?” asks Chase, changing into a sleep shirt and cuddling up in bed. “You’ve seemed spooked all day. I’m worried about you.”

Marvin nods numbly and crawls into the covers beside him. Chase keeps talking, but Marvin doesn’t hear. Just focuses on the arms wrapping warmly around his neck, and Chase’s weight curled up beside him.

This is what he would lose if the others found out.

They would let Jameson go, and then Anti would use him to hurt his family even worse than he did this night. Or maybe… maybe…

Maybe Jackie wouldn’t even keep him around to let him watch that happen.

Maybe Jackie would hurt him, if he knew.

No. Marvin has to shake the thought off. He knows what he did was wrong, but he did it to protect them and to spare Jackie from having to make the difficult choice that Marvin knows was necessary. He did what he had to do.

Right?

“Marvin?” whispers Chase, when the evening light has gone and the moon hangs over him. “Hey. Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Marvin doesn’t answer, shuddering against Chase’s body. He buries himself in his brother’s chest and he does not move.

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

Taken from the Marvin’s Cage AU: Marvin is the one keeping Jameson in the little puppet box so that Anti can’t use him to hurt his family. When Jackie finds out, he sets Jameson free and throws Marvin out of the house, cutting off all communication from him and leaving him to devolve into hatred and magical corruption. Jackie becomes ferociously over-protective and grieves the loss of his brother while Jameson is just trying to understand what it is that happened to him and learn to live a normal, happy life with the help of his brothers.

Find Part One here if you missed it.

#marvin's cage #writers of jack #bee writes #weight mention #imprisonment tw #extreme distress tw #psychological torture tw

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