#and because i quit instead of waiting another 3 years for it to maybe make some sense im stupid and dont know a thing and need to shut up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

won4kiss · 4 months

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⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU !

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆��pairing. enemy! park jongseong x fem! reader synopsis. you and jay had always despised each other- at least that’s what you thought until jay got a girlfriend, your true hidden feelings making its way to the surface- uh oh.. genre. angst ,, fluff ,, wc. 2500. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ this is so labyrinth coded 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

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YOU HAD KNOWN PARK JONGSEONG FOR AS LONG AS YOU COULD REMEMBER, AND YOU HATED HIM FOR NEARLY JUST AS LONG.

from the very first moment you laid eyes on him in kindergarten, he had been nothing but a thorn in your side. it all started when you had asked the young boy to be friends- instead of a yes, you got water spat on your face as he cackled at you- yes, cackled.

you despised him. his teasing, his smirks, his constant attempts to one-up you in every single aspect of life—it all grated on your nerves, day after day.

the relationship between you and jay was well-known. your friends and family had long since accepted it as a fact of life. you couldn't bare to stand him, and he couldn't stand you. it’s as simple as that.

until it wasn't.

the first crack in your carefully constructed wall of hatred came when jay got a girlfriend. her name was minji, and she was everything you were not—soft-spoken, gentle, and sweet. she was always by his side, laughing at his jokes, holding his hand. it shouldn't have mattered to you at all. in fact, you should have been relieved. if he was busy with his girlfriend, maybe he would leave you alone for once in your years of living.

but it didn't feel like relief. it felt like something else entirely, something you knew was wrong, something sharp and painful that you couldn't quite place. you found yourself watching them more than you would care to admit, your eyes drawn to the way he looked at her, his eyes sparkling, the way he touched her. and with each passing day, the ache in your chest grew stronger, more insistent. more unbearable.

you really did try to ignore it, to push it away deep inside of you and pretend it didn't exist, but it was no use. the feelings you had harboured for so long, hidden beneath layers of anger, resentment, and pride were bubbling up to the surface. you were falling for him, and you were falling deep. it was the most terrifying thing you had ever experienced as a teenage girl.

so, you did the only reasonable thing you could think of, you avoided him. you stopped going to places where you knew he would be, you stopped engaging in the petty arguments that had once been a staple of your interactions and everyday life. you had distanced yourself as much as you possibly could, hoping that the feelings would fade away with time.

but jay noticed. of course he did. and he didn't like it one bit.

one evening after school, after yet another successful day of avoiding jay, you found yourself cornered in the hallway of your apartment building, which he knew the address of from a day where you were sick, and delivered you your missed homework and soup, which he claimed he was forced to deliver to you.

he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of confusion, a bit of sadness? and anger.

"what's your problem, y/n?" he demanded, his voice low and tense. "why have you been avoiding me, huh?"

you crossed your arms, shaking off the butterflies from talking to him for the first time in weeks, trying to keep your composure. "i haven't been avoiding you," you lied, your voice shaken and unsteady

"bullshit," he snapped. "you've been avoiding me for weeks. did i do something to piss you off more than usual? because if i did, ill fix it.”

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "it's nothing, don’t worry. just leave me alone, jay."

"no," he said, stepping closer. "i won't leave you alone until you tell me what's going on, y/n." he whispered.

his proximity made it hard to breathe, let alone think. the scent of his cologne, the intensity of his gaze—it was all way too much for you to bare. you could feel the walls you had so carefully built around your heart beginning to crumble.

"why do you care?" you shot back, your voice trembling anxiously. "you have minji now. go bother her for all i care!”

jay's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening with a frown. "this isn't about minji. this is about you and me. why are you avoiding me?"

"because i can't stand you! being around you!" you shouted angrily, the words bursting from you before you could stop them.

"why?" he demanded, his voice rising. "what did i do that's so bad you can't even be in the same room as me?"

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. but the emotions that have been building inside you the past few weeks were too strong, too overwhelming. you couldn't keep them bottled up any longer.

"because i’m in love with you, okay?" you yelled, tears streaming down your face. "i love you, and it hurts to see you with somebody that’s not me..”

for a moment, there was silence. jay stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the pounding of your heart in your ears, as you cursed under your breathe shutting your eyes anxiously in panic.

"you… love me?" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, unable to speak. the confession had left you feeling raw and vulnerable, and you didn't know what to do next.

jay's expression hardened, and without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you fell onto your knees and sobbed, you sobbed for your broken heart and for the loss of the relationship you had with jay- gone forever.

the next two weeks were a blur of constant pain and complete and utter embarrassment. jay ignored you completely, avoiding you at every turn. you threw yourself into your studies, trying to distract yourself from the aching heartbreak and void inside you. your friends noticed the change, but you couldn't bring yourself to explain. how could you tell them that the person you had hated for so long had become the one you loved? and even worse, broke your heart.

you saw jay and minji together more often than you would have liked. each time, it felt like a knife twisting in your heart. but you forced yourself to smile, to act like everything was fine. it was the only way you knew how to cope.

one day, while you were sitting in the campus courtyard, lost in your thoughts, someone sat down next to you. you looked up to see taehyun, one of your friends from class. his presence was a welcome distraction from the feelings inside you.

"hey," he said, patting your shoulder giving you a warm smile. "you look like you could use some company."

you smiled back, grateful for his kindness. "yeah, i guess i could."

taehyun was easy to talk to, he was kind and understanding, and before long, you found yourself laughing and joking with him. it was a relief to feel something other than pain for the first time in the last few weeks, even if it was only for a little while. he pulled you into a hug, after you had finally opened up about your situation and you let yourself relax in his embrace, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, sniffling away your tears.

unbeknownst to you, jay was watching from a distance. he had come to the courtyard to clear his head from everything, from the confusion and the dull feeling in his heart, but the sight of you with taehyun stopped him in his tracks. the way you laughed, the way you hugged him—it should have made him happy to see you smiling again after breaking your heart. but instead, it filled him with a burning jealousy and sadness.

seeing you with taehyun brought everything into sharp focus. and it suddenly hit him- he realized that he had been a fool, pushing you away when he should have been holding you close. he couldn't deny it anymore longer—he was deeply in love with you. and he couldn't stand the thought of losing you to somebody else.

jay knew what he had to do- that evening, jay broke up with minji. it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, she was a kind and sweet girl, but he knew it was the right thing. minji deserved someone who could love her- and that wasn’t him. his heart had always belonged to you.

the next day, jay found you sitting alone in the library, studying and deep in focus. he approached anxiously and cautiously, his heart feeling like it was about to explode in his chest.

"can we talk please?" he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked up, surprise and shock flickering in your eyes before looking down again. "kinda busy- what do you want, jay?"

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "i'm sorry. for everything, y/n. i never should have ignored you. i was in denial, i was scared and confused, but that's no excuse."

you stayed silent anxiously playing with your fingers, waiting for him to continue.

"i broke up with minji," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "because i realized something that took a while for me to realize but i’m here now- i realized that i'm in love with you."

your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. "you… you what?”

"i'm in love with you, y/n. i’m so in love with you" he repeated, his voice breaking as his eyes shined with sincerity. "i've been in love with you for a long time, but i was too stupid to see it. and when you told me how you felt, it scared the hell out of me. i didn't know how to handle it, so i pushed you away. but i can't do that anymore."

tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart aching with a mixture of hope and fear. "do you really mean it?" you whispered.

jay nodded, his gaze unwavering. "i mean it. i love you. and if you'll give me a chance, i promise i'll do everything i can to make it up to you, please y/n.”

you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deception. but all you saw was honesty, a raw vulnerability that took your breath away.

"i don't know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "you hurt me, jay. a lot."

"i know," he said, his voice breaking as he cups your cheek, leaning his forehead against yours. "and i'm so, so sorry. but i'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you can trust me. i promise."

for a long moment, you stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in. and then, slowly, you nodded. "okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "one chance, jay. but if you hurt me again, that's it. i'm done."

jay's face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. he reached out, taking your hand in his, looking into your eyes for permission as you nodded with a soft grin.

jays lips feel soft against yours, you spent many nights wondering what it would be like to be like to kiss jay, and it’s even better than you could’ve imagined.

and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

the weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. jay was true to his word, doing everything in his power to prove himself to you. he showed up at your door with your favourite coffee order every morning, walked you to your classes with your hand in his, and spent every spare moment with you. he was attentive, kind, thoughtful, and for the first time, truly present.

your friends noticed the change in him too. they saw the way he looked at you, hearts in his eyes and the way he treated you with a newfound gentleness and adoration. it was clear to everyone that park jay was a changed man, and it was all because of you.

but there were still moments of where you were in denial, times when the past hurt you felt would come back, casting a shadow over your happiness. the moment came to you on a rainy afternoon, the weather complimenting your mood as you sat together in a quiet café. the rain pattered against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

jay gave you a knowing look as he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"i love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "i know i've said it before, but i need you to know how much you mean to me. you're my everything, so get those thoughts out of your head, mmh?”

he said pulling you into a soft kiss across the table.

tears welled up in your eyes at his words. it was everything you had ever wanted to hear, but the fear still lingered, a dark cloud over your heart.

"i love you too," you whispered, your voice trembling. "but i'm scared, jay. i'm scared of getting hurt again- it was so bad.” you said as you closed your eyes with a trembling voice.

jay's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes shining with determination and love. "i know," he said. "and i will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you have nothing to fear. i will never hurt you again, i promise baby.”

time passed, and true to his word, jay continued to be the man you deserved. he was patient, understanding, and never once pressured you. he was there for you in ways he had never been before, and slowly but surely, the trust and reassurance began to appear.

one warm night, as you sat together on the same playground jay had rejected you on as kids, he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"i can’t bare losing you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "you're my everything."

you looked up at him, your heart overflowing with love. "you won't," you said, your voice steady and sure. "we're in this together, you can’t get rid of me that easily."

you both threw your heads back, laughing together as the moonlight shined down on you.

and as he held you close, you knew that no matter what pain he had caused you before- you knew that your love for each other was stronger than anything else.

@won4kiss 2024

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osarina · 7 months

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ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already had a heavy reputation following him, dark shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Demon Prodigy. Black Wraith. So many monikers attached to him, but he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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hollyhomburg · 11 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.62)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: love becomes guilt, predator becomes prey, and Jin becomes...

Tags: Hospitals, medical talk, sicfic, seizures, angst, hurt/comfort, assassin! Jimin, implied autistic! jimin, meltdowns, settling, non-sexual biting, Mafia shit, murder, Dead bodies, Guns, violence, blood. everyone lives nobody dies, morality conversations, revenge, secrets

W/c: 10.9k

A/n: thank you to everyone who helped me make my birthday this year super special <3 im sorry if i was bad at thanking people publicly for their specific gifts <3 i figured that the next best way i could say thank you was to give you another chapter...be warned, this one ends on QUITE the cliffhanger....be warned

Previous part ~ Masterlist

The hospital is cold, maybe that’s just because of the first snow.

It gathers on the trees outside like a faint white outline where someone forgot to fill the image in. Cresting the shoulders of everyone who walks into the hospital and turning the streetlight into halos and the sky into one big white blanket. The whole world is a nest when the weather is like this. Maybe if the whole world was a nest, it would be enough to keep you all safe.

It’s useless to hope, as you wait with Jimin outside of Jungkook’s hospital room.

The hospital is a mess of glowing exit signs and endless beeping. A dull roar in your ears from coming down adrenaline and a telephone nearby blares. The scratchy intercom system overhead pages a doctor for a code red. Whatever that is. You sit and wait, worrying and picking at your nails, full of useless energy. There is nothing to do but wait until someone tells you if Jungkook’s alright.

You're not sure if he will be, this seizure was a bad one.

You and Jimin sit side by side, and you don’t talk. You don’t even touch. You don’t know what you prefer, the instant terror of the car bomb, or this slow terror. Slow terror feels like nails dragging down the back of your skull, like clothes that are two sizes too tight. A bad taste in your mouth, not blood and not soot either.

The relief of finding out that Jungkook wasn’t calling you because Moonbyul had done something to him was only temporary. instead of your packmate there was a stranger on the other end of the line.

He’d still been seizing when you’d got back to the coffee shop. Foreghein scents on him and a crowd of patrons and paramedics surround him. His eyes rolled back into his skull, on his side, blue lips and froth on the edge of his mouth. Luckily, someone in that coffee shop was a doctor, was able to keep him semi-comfortable but-

This seizure had lasted a long time. Too long. Jungkook has been a patient at most of the local hospitals before on account of how unpredictable his seizures are. He has directives as per Namjoon's guidance, in place since before they were even packmates. Anything more than 6 minutes needs an overnight stay and copious testing. This seizure had lasted almost 10. The longest he's had in years.

You'd watched horrified and all too familiar with it as they’d loaded your still twitching packmate into the red box. Unsympathetic paramedics unwilling to hear your pleas to just let Jimin ride with them to the hospital (he'd tailgated them the whole way) but even at the hospital you and Jimin still couldn’t see him. They whisked him right up for an MRI.

Maybe you’d be less unnerved if Jungkook had woken up, but he hasn’t yet.

They’re still running tests and keeping him under just to be sure. Not a medical coma, but the step below that. Something about Jungkook’s malfunctioned ocular nerve and not wanting to trigger more seizures with more stimuli until the lorazepam and half a dozen other medications have time to take effect.

Jimin is the one who okayed those. He signed those papers for medications as easily as if he were swiping his card or maybe firing a gun. You feel out of your depth here, even if Jimin is very used to this. It’s been a while. It’s not your fault the luck ran out. Maybe that’s why he’s angry, maybe that’s why he’s not touching you. You are at once, somewhere between a four-leaf clover and a bad luck charm. Intangible and unsure of your odds.

Maybe Jimin's not touching you because he hates you, maybe he hates you because you forced him to let you come with him. you'd have been by Jungkook's side while this happened if you hadn't. But Jimin might have died from the explosion then-

Jungkook might still die, you realize with a lurch. Jungkook might die because of the seizures and could die at any time really. It's so easy to forget. Maybe that's why Jimin's not touching you. Your thoughts rush over you, wave after wave.

But Jimin thinks you don’t deserve to be touched when he’s this angry. You’ve had a lifetime’s worth of an angry alpha touching you and he won’t be one of them. Won’t make you worse when you’re sitting small and fragile. Barely there, barely alive. No, he'll keep his shaking hands tightened to fists on his knees and his angry tongue locked behind pursed lips. touching you would be more for him than it is for you he's convinced.

Too close, they were too close today. Jimin promised you that he wouldn’t let them hurt you. He promised and he'd failed. you still have the gash on your chin.

His worry for Jungkook is another monster entirely, one that can't be made better with actions, that can't be fixed with his own two hands.

Yoongi and Tae are the first to arrive. Your mate’s hair is wet and tousled, in a pair of pajama pants on like he’d just been showering for the evening before he’d come. Tae is close behind, a pair of pink sweatpants poking out from below her long thick coat and her long nightdress tucked into the waistband. The same dress you cuddled up beneath this morning. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Yoongi holds your cheeks, searching your face. The words tumble from your lips, the first you and Jimin have said in what feels like hours.

“He was just- we were just getting the car and we thought he’d be fine for a second but then-” you feel like you’re going to be sick all over his shoes. In his hurry, Yoongi put on a pair of Tae’s Uggs, the platform ones. You don't know why your brain fixates on that.

“It’s not your fault,” is the first thing he says, although even he sounds unsure. You shouldn’t have left him alone are the words that he must be thinking, the words that no one’s saying.

(This is a lie. This is your brain making up the worst-case scenario and clinging to it. There is nothing anyone can do, no precautions that they can take that they already haven’t when it comes to Jungkook’s seizures. Yoongi just gets small and quiet whenever Jungkook is sick. Jungkook will always be sick, and this quiet devastation will always find your mate because he loves Jungkook so).

There is nothing to do but wait, even though waiting with them is better than waiting alone.

The people at the coffee shop said they saw jungkook lie down before he started seizing. That's the only way they were able to call you, because he'd had your contact open on his phone. He'd known he was about to have one and he'd tried to call you. He'd been afraid and alone and then he'd been nothing.

The movements of the hospital slosh the four of you like an unmoored boat while you wait. Every doctor coming closer prompts a turn of your head and pleading eyes. Hoping that they’re the ones that will relieve you of your misery. Your leg jumps up and down, jittery. Jimin by comparison is deathly still.

Yoongi goes up to the desk and Tae sits between you and Jimin, one hand a piece on either of your thighs. You lean into her and Jimin rests his cheek on her shoulder slowly. She holds around your shoulders, looking back and forth between the two of you. She doesn’t any anything.

Her fingers rub up and down your shoulder, feeling the crumbliness there. She picks her hand up, and you watch as she takes in the darkness. It's soot.

“It’s from the ambulance,” Jimin says before you can force your words to cooperate and lie.

Jin comes through with a flurry of his long felted coat, snow gathering on his wide shoulder. Holding his keys in his hand and almost dropping them when you stand to collide with him. He has just a choked-out "pup" for you but then there's the nurse, the one you've been waiting for. Telling you that Jungkook's fine- he's not awake yet- but that you can wait in his room with him until he does.

Jungkook doesn't have too many wires connected to him, nothing more than an electrode at his temple, one at his heart, and an IV in his wrist. His hospital gown is pulled down to his collarbones so that the electrodes don't pull, but his skin is absent of his usual healthy flush.

You wait, watching until you notice the rise and fall of his chest. Even and beautiful breath. Jungkook is alive, Jungkook is breathing of his own accord. You let out a single broken sob, but you're not the only one.

You watch Yoongi brush his hair back from his face, eyes glassy. Seokjin sits by his right side and tae takes the other. Jimin and you stand at the foot of his bed, just watching him. No one says anything. Every beep of the heart monitor is anticipated, every second more precious.

"There's nothing on his MRI that indicates any lasting brain damage from the seizure," the nurse states, fussing with Jungkook's IV. "but it will be hard to know until he wakes up. You might notice him unable to recognize you or speak for a few minutes- the location of the seizure may have affected his language and motor capabilities so-"

She continues to list his prognosis, but it's nothing you didn't know before. Every seizure has a risk of taking out part of Jungkook's faculties, his fine motor skills, and his speech. But a seizure has never damaged him beyond repair before. Tae takes one of Jungkook's hands from the bed and brings it to her face, trying to hide her tears but it's no use.

It’s startling, how much your body relaxes upon Namjoon’s presence, you feel the shift in the air before he enters the room. Nauseous one moment and then fine the next. He enters the room, hand skimming the top of your head and Yoongi's side as he be-lines it to Jungkook's chart.

His scent is so thick- comforting coffee even if it is a a little stale. You sway, and when he looks up, his eyes flicker from you and then the nurse.

Today is not the end of the world, even though it feels like it. It feels like it's ending every time Jungkook finds his way into a hospital bed, a good 3 or 4 times in a year. Honestly, they’ve been so quiet recently, so unnoticeable that they should have known a bigger one was building.

“Dr. Kim,” Jungkook’s nurse says, this is not Namjoon’s hospital, but he is on Jungkook’s file. This nurse looks at him and waits for his call. Namjoon flicks past one page on his chart and then another, pursing his lips.

“Why didn't Avery order a Ct? it’s not here.”

“The ct has already been run Dr. Kim, He put the order in 4 minutes ago” Namjoon hums, and you watch the clench of his jaw, the extra tight way he bites his cheek. And it’s then you realize oh, Namjoon is about to cry.

Yoongi gets to him before you do, Jungkook’s fingers twitch of their own accord against Namjoon’s wrist and Yoongi grips his shoulder. Namjoon looks back at him and at the same time, Jungkook opens his eyes blinking against the dim lights.

His words are all garbled for the first few seconds after a seizure, the Jumbled groan startling enough that you flinch. Yoongi backs up so that Jin and Namjoon can hold him down as he reaches blindly, startled and moving before his brain has a second to catch up.

"It's okay Jungkook, you had a seizure. You were out for a few hours, You're okay,"

"Come up slowly, don't try to sit up there you go."

Jungkook tries to get up and out of the bed but has to be held down by namjoon until his brain comes back online, he continues to speak garbled nonsense for a moment. Too loud, voice loud after so much quiet. It startles you; you take a step back.

And almost step right on Hobi’s shoes.

Hoseok is there, hand on the small of your back. Snowflakes that still haven’t melted in his hair. He doesn’t say hi to you, but his hand stays there. Pressed flat. He only has eyes for Jungkook. Jungkook relaxes, falling back on the bed, and gets one coherent syllable out and then another. It's their names-.

"Alpha- Joon- hughr-"

Jungkook pants, breathing heavily, and then his hand reaches up steadily, to touch the electrode on his head. Yoongi's hand closes around his just in case, but he doesn't rip it off.

Everyone waits with bated breath.

“You alright kookie?” Hoseok asks careful, with that same level of humor in his voice that you’ve come to need. His smile is as genuine as ever as he looks down a Jungkook in the hospital bed. Jungkook’s hand is tight around Namjoon’s as he stretches, muscles aching. He’s always so sore after a seizure. It's always so disorienting coming out of them like this.

Jungkook waits, testing out his words. “I feel like Like it got hit by a trucking fuck.”

He blinks, and the lights are turned low, but a breath passes and Tae laughs and so does Yoongi, and then everyone's laughing and sort of crying. Your knees go a little weak and you turn into hobi's chest hiding your tears.

Jungkook just blinks at the ceiling. “That wasn’t right.” But then everyone's smiling. Happy because he's talking, happy because it looks like the seizure didn't do any lasting damage. Jin rests his head on the coverlet and sighs a happy sound. All too relieved to hear Jungkook act something like himself. Wordlessly Jin brings Jungkook's wrist to his face, pressing his nose to his scent gland.

The hospital room isn’t big enough for all of you let alone when more staff enter the room along with someone who Namjoon must know, because she instantly starts listing off different medical jargon. Asking Jungkook how many fingers she's holding up, Namjoon's name, then testing his reflexes on his hands and toes. Stress tests and memory tests.

One moment you’re standing in the doorway and then the next you’re pressed to the wall between Tae, Jimin, and Hobi.

The hospital room isn’t big enough for all of you let alone when more staff enters the room along with someone whom Namjoon must know, because she instantly starts listing off different medical jargon and refers to him by name.

One moment you’re standing in the doorway and then the next you’re pressed to the wall between Tae, Jimin, and Hobi. Tae opens the door and gestures. You step out because it’s surely more important that Namjoon Jin and Yoongi get at Jungkook right now even if your heart clenches painfully at leaving Jungkook.

Jimin is still vibrating out of his skin, has been since Jungkook opened his eyes. But Tae tugs him in for a hug in the hallway. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you watch him hug her back. But Jungkook was Tae and Jimin’s packmate first. It’s no wonder that this has shocked them both closer, their fight forgotten.

Or mostly forgotten, you watch as Jimin wraps his arms around her slowly, like he's not sure he's allowed.

Hobi jogs you out of your starting, turning your face towards his and, looking at you intently. Eyes flickering down to your chin and then to your eyes. You forget what he’s looking at until his fingers skim below your lips and you feel pain.

You drag your arm across it and it leaves a small rusty trail in its wake on the sleeve of Tae's jacket, just another stain on it. Oh, you fell during the blast and banged your face, you'd almost forgotten.

“Tripped, banged my face on the sidewalk.” it's close enough to the truth that the lie goes unnoticed. Hobi makes a sound, holding your elbow. Squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’m gonna get some snacks from the vending machine, can I get you something?”

“Didn’t eat dinner” you say, staring down at Hobi’s red Converse. There are scuffs on the linoleum and a drop of blood someone must have missed. You wonder who it’s from, another person from the emergency room probably. “You sure Jin and Joon won’t be angry if my dinner is just sweets?”

Tae is close enough to overhear, and she rubs her cheek across the top of Jimin’s head, scenting him sweet (or trying to.) “Yeah- junk food isn’t exactly the most nutritious.”

You stumble, stepping close, swaying suddenly on your feet. Hobi catches you around the shoulders and for a second, you must look like the mirror image of Tae and Jimin.

Hobi's scent smarts with worry and he pushes you back, making you sit down. “They can live with it, she deserves a special treat. I’m getting you a Band-Aid.” Tae looks like she wants to argue with Hobi, then doesn’t.

Hobi gets Skittles and Peanut Eminem’s and two bags of funyuns that you pick apart while you wait for the doctors to be done. The colorful packages are scattered across your lap as he tilts your head to put the Band-Aid on your chin (gotten from a helpful nurse). Fingers that tenderly curve under the wide part of your jaw, drumming there.

Tae nibbles on a peach ring. Inside Jungkook's hospital room, it isn't quiet, but the four of you are silent with exhaustion listening in. Jin sounds relieved, and the low grumble from your mate sounds just as happy.

Jimin still isn’t speaking much, just pacing back and forth in front of Jungkook’s door. When you say you feel nauseous, Hobi gets up and gets you ginger ale too. You know there just isn’t much for him to do, alpha instincts and no omega to cool them but you. Hobi holds your hand, he doesn’t say that Jungkook’s going to be okay. He doesn’t say anything but.

“Which are your favorite?”

The back of Skittles jingles and he picks out all the green ones, lining up his pants in an orderly little row for you to grab when the ones you suck on go small enough.

You don't realize you're crying until he gets you a tissue, dabbing at your cheek. "There you go, Kookies gonna be fine. He's always fine." His voice goes slower, honeyed.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder, and he lets you. “You got a pair of headphones?” Your breath is shaky, and you think you might be shaking apart right now if it wasn’t for Hobi.

Namjoon stares at the packages for a second too long when he exits the door. His hair is pushed up like he’s run his fingers through it, but he doesn’t smell quite as worried as he did before. He looks at the package and you shrink underneath his disapproving stare.

He all but snaps his fingers, “Tae, would you please go get some real food.” Hobi does not flinch at Namjoon’s cross-tone, even as Tae shoots to her feet and chirps "Yes alpha!"

Hobi doesn’t do anything but stare Namjoon down, put a pink starburst on his tongue, slowly.

Jimin keeps pacing.

“We’re sleeping here tonight.” It’s not an order or a request- your pack alpha has decided that this is too great a danger to separate you so you won’t separate. Neither of you pipes up anything to the contrary, now is not the time for contrary voices.

Jimin is still pacing. Black leather shoes smoothed and silent, barely acknowledging the pack alpha.

He’s making you anxious, your scent sour even to your own nose as your eyes track him back and forth. Namjoon pulls you to your feet, hand lingering on the back of your neck. “Will you be okay in those clothes pup? Or should someone go home and get your things?”

You hear the request for what it is; Namjoon is asking you if you think the alphas need a nest to settle if you think they need a change of clothes and things that smell like pack tonight for sleep and safety. he's leaving this up to you.

Your hands stay buried in the pockets of Tae’s white floral jacket. Hoping he doesn’t notice the soot smudge on your shoulder. “It'll be fine just-” your eyes are half glassy, “are you sure Koo will be okay?”

The pack alpha pulls you to his front, and one of the nurses passing by gives you both a look, you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss him. "of course he's going to be, we're making sure of it" Namjoon promises.

"I meant like, without a nest."

Namjoon laughs, and you watch the stress melt off his shoulders. he turns, guiding you inside with a peculiar look over his shoulder at Hobi. “I’m sure he’d love it if you’d help him make one. he already wants to start"

Jungkook looks a little bit better, with less of a pale-yellow flush to his face and more of a healthy glow. pouting down at the blankets and complaining that they're too rough.

For someone who looks so physically well/muscles defined even when they’re not flexed, it’s always a bit startling to see him lying prone and exhausted, lights dim to avoid the risk of another seizure.

Tae comes back with some food, and you all eat in silence, white Styrofoam containers balanced across your knees. The faint crinkle and drag of plastic spoons scraping plastic bowls. Jungkook eats hospital food. Nibbles it, and doesn't throw it up. One of the side effects of the medication is nausea.

The only one not at ease is Jimin, who doesn’t eat, sitting tacitly in the corner watching each of you, getting up occasionally to pace. The pack let him work off his restless energy until it’s clear it’s making Jungkook restless too. Shifting and watching him. His request of, “Minnie will you come and sit by me?” goes unanswered as Jimin flexes his hands from open palm to open fist again and again.

Jungkook watches the jello in his plastic tray jiggle with the force of Jimin's pacing, back and forth. Back and forth. Tae sighs, and Yoongi stiffens.

He goes like that, pacing one two three steps just in front of Tae before turning. He falls apart like this until Jin steps up to intercept him, and Jimin rocks to a stop rather than crash into him. He’s put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, fingers digging into the tense ball there. Moving quicker than any of you thought possible.

“Breathe.” Comes his terse request. A little broken, a little begging. But Jimin’s alpha will never willingly disobey an order from his pack omega, that’s what’s happening, isn’t it? Jimin’s alpha has taken over, took over the second he saw Jungkook lying between those two tables in the coffee shop. All instinct and no Jimin, all fear and pulse and get them safe get them home get them out.

But it’s like Jimin’s lungs are pried open from it. He gasps, and Jin pulls him in for a thorough scent mark, systematically dragging his teeth from ear to ear, hard enough to leave dull red lines in his wake. You watch Jimin’s eyes dilate and constrict, plush lips parting in a gasp. Looking at you.

Jin licks his teeth after, “There you go.” You don’t know if you’ve ever seen Jin settle Jimin or if you’ve ever seen him settle any of the alphas like this. Jimin asks for bites again and Jin obliges. Bending over him to drive his teeth, to nip Jimin's skin pink between his teeth. Bite after bite Jimin’s body relaxes inch by inch.

And so does the rest of the pack, underneath the covers, Jungkook shifts his hips, splaying them a little wider. Relaxing as Jimin goes boneless.

Jin’s voice is a dark croon, the tone he reserves only for Jimin and maybe Namjoon sometimes. He's a little firmer when the more dominant alphas need his touch. Jimin feels it as delicately as Yoongi's soothing thumb on the side of your thumb when Jin pinches his cheeks and shakes him a little bit.

“Now, do you want to tell Omega why you’re upset?”

“S’my fault” Jimin sways on his feet, closer to Jin’s touch than back again. a planet in orbit. the rest of the pack watched transfixed. You see Hoseok perk up slightly. “Wasn’t there.”

“Minnie, I know you,” Jin cups his cheek a little gentler. Fingers skimming stubble. “I know you,” Jin repeats, such an air of finality about it that you can’t doubt it to be true.

Jin could command the moon to shift its orbit and it would. “I know you’ll do whatever’s possible to protect the pack" Jimin's eyelashes flutter. "To your dying breath.”

“You don’t have to be so intense about it” Namjoon half snaps, any of them dying isn't what he wants to think about right now. But he's forgiven the second he realizes he's being too harsh, everyone’s a bit stressed right now.

Jin’s dark tone falls away as quick as it came, “But still- what happened with JK wasn’t your fault, isn’t that right kookie?”

Jungkook nods, eyes closed, licking his lips like he's tasting the settling in the air. “Not Jimin’s fault my brains fucked up, just how it is” Jin pecks Jimin’s head, pinning his blond hair flat. “See pup? Listen to the omega’s, You’re fine. Everyone's going to be fine."

Jin speaks the words so surely you almost believe it.

The hospital is a bit generous with the extra sleeping cots (Namjoon might have called his boss and asked him to pull privileges), and you get 3 that they roll up one on one side of Jungkook's hospital bed, and two more on the other side.

But you and Jin pile in just around him. Cuddled up close and scenting along his shoulders, sniffling and fluffing a few extra threadbare blankets around him in a makeshift nest, full of your jackets too.

You steal Tae's pants for the nest making, letting her untuck her nightdress and let it flutter around her. But when one of the nurses comes to the door Namjoon (panicked) throws himself across the exposed line of her honeyed thighs to conceal her nakedness. but she just giggles, she’s not some Victorian maiden full of virtue, but it makes Jungkook smile and scrunch his nose. and it feels like a win even if Namjoon's cheeks go bright red.

You cuddle up, trying fitfully to banish the medicinal scent by scenting him. It's sour and not all like him, but the medicine they give him for his seizures always makes him smell a little off for a few days. It’s no less distressing to you, but Jungkook just grins and tells the others to let you do what you need when you rest your body weight on top of him and stubbornly bury your face in his chest. His hand with the attached IV strewn across your back to cradle your ribs.

Before no time Jungkook is laughing and leaning into Yoongi’s stomach where he lies across the top of the bed. In no time he's taking a few bites of veggies and a few sips of water, eyes heavy. He is tried from the seizure and medication even if he puts on a brave face.

They’ll drag him into one more MRI in the morning just to be sure that nothing concerning has developed over time but until then, the beeping of Jungkook’s heart monitor is your lullaby. Every heartbeat is a new chance. You don't even mind the lumpy hospital pillow. The pack goes quiet when Jungkook's eyes flutter, when they shut and his breathing goes deep. yoongi puts his finger to his lips and jin shifts slowly, Jungkook's head resting on his thigh. your lovely packmate resting between jin's parted legs.

The rest of the pack falls like Domino’s once Jungkook's asleep. Hobi shucks off his jeans to be more comfortable and so does Yoongi. The room is full of heavy breaths and dreams waiting to swoop in. You struggle to settle until Hobi gives you one of his headphones, and you lie close to share them, one in each of your ears. he still has his sleepy time playlist, and it blocks out the sounds of the hospital. When Sleep takes you it's thankfully dreamless.

Somehow Hobi's hand finds your waist under the covers, bunching up and tangling in his sweatshirt. Clinging to you and holding on for dear life. His bare thighs between your thin leggings tangled up in the makeshift nest. Jin only glances at your particular closeness a few times.

Sleep evades jin until he gives up on it entirely. Nothing feels quite as good to Jin’s instincts as having all of his packmates sleeping in one room. Even if it's not quite good enough to get him to fall asleep himself. But still- Jin would rather they not be here; would rather they be in the nest at home.

That will have to wait until tomorrow.

The distant hum of the hospital and the sound of his dull typing fill the room. His work computer screen is the only light in the whole room besides the monitors. Jin's computer balanced on his back because Jin had to leave during a briefing on a low-level gang member and Koo said he didn’t mind being used as a computer rest so long as Jin kept running his hands through his hair. Jimin is curled up on the next nearest cot, within petting (and settling) distance if he should need it.

7 a.m.

A look at the clock says that the pack has 5 more hours until Jungkook is allowed to be discharged. Until then, Jin will get some work done and keep an eye on the rest. Namjoon sleeps by the door, he declined a cot on account of there not being enough room for the rest of them to sleep comfortably. Namjoon turns fitfully with every new person who walks by the door. He’s gone in and out of sleep a few times. If he flinches awake again, Jin will get him a cup of coffee.

Until then, there's paperwork and an endless array of evidence for Jin to examine.

There are documents he can look over again, the same ones, back and forth. There are about 300 crime scene photos for each murder that the family has committed in the last 6 months, it doesn’t hurt to skim them again and refresh his notes.

That boy from the coffee shop burned beyond recognition. A pair of 30 caliber bullets in his chest. One under his ribs the other in his head, evidence of deep lacerations and torture on his body, bitten tongue, and evidence of red paint under his fingernails. The only other bit of evidence.

The origin of these paint flecks have been a source of annoyance and frustration for jin and the rest of his coworkers. Maybe they're evidence from a third location between abduction and dumpsite? A bit of the killer's car scraped maybe? The paint was metallic, old-fashioned. After a few minutes, Jin moves on to other murders, other people who have lives and packs and dreams that the family extinguished.

Jin no longer spends hours looking at his picture. The one of Choi Beomgyu alive and grinning. He still gets weekly calls from his pack alpha, begging Jin for any updates and leads. Jin has stopped feeling guilty over being empty-handed.

Jin’s boss's crime scene photos are a little harder to look at if only because of the nausea that those photos bring. Although Jin has become so desensitized to them that his bloated face no longer makes his stomach swirl with revulsion. His missing hand, the torn stump of it induced post-mortem.

One burned and one drowned.

These two kills are by far the family's messiest and hastiest. Usually, they don't even find this much of the bodies. Just a few fragments of bone or a tooth in a pire. Most of the time people just disappear.

What did you know, he thinks, looking at the photograph of the boy and then his charred corpse, what did you know that you shouldn’t have? Why didn't they have time to properly make you disappear? Why couldn't they risk you talking?

It’s funny, out of all the evidence, he tries to look at your cookbook and the late Don and data’s autopsy reports the least. Their tox screen and that one page that might as well be your confession and Ahn Hyejin's (Jin compared the second handwriting to a sample they had on file and matched hers to it in about an hour). Their murder was a neat and tidy little thing, but it is the murder that got his boss killed so maybe Jin should treat it with more scrutiny.

But that’s so simple, it’s almost a wonder why such a slight thread of spider silk needed snipping. Or is Jin wrong and this is a thread that could send the whole thing crumbling down?

Jin’s not sure yet, but maybe after a few more hours of pouring over this, he will be.

It’s nearing 3 in the morning and Jin is still sifting through every little bit of information when a ding punctuates the quiet in the room. Jin panic smashes the mute button before any of his packmates stir.

A warm body away, Hobi lets out a particularly deep and easy breath, and Jin relaxes.

Jin’s first thought looking at the email, is that no one not directly connected to the bureau should be able to get ahold of his email address, let alone be able to send him anything.

The email doesn’t have a heading, and the email doesn’t even have a subject or a cc. Unlike half of Jin’s other correspondents to other people giving them guidelines and delegating tasks. It's only secure for him to look at these here because everyone’s eyes are closed.

On closer look, the sender is just a random email generated with an obscure amount of Xs. He hovers over it. Cursor blinking until he clicks it, he knows better than to click on the link without launching it on his firewall server but the contents of the email aren’t anything but a video and a short line of text.

Skip to 17:19:07 for the fun parts :)

The video isn’t infested with bugs planning on robbing his data and pilfering him for information. No, the data and danger is just right there when Jin skips ahead, Jin holds his breath as he watches the grainy imagery.

The security camera is an IPC-110 if the shitty quality is anything to judge by. Trust a parking garage to install the shittiest CCTV cameras on the market but still the blurry figures of two of Jin’s packmates is unmistakable as he watches. Jimin’s face terse and afraid, backing up against the wall and exchanging words.

The flash of light is so sudden it makes Jin flinch hard and Jungkook groans, before settling and smacking his lips. Jin hardly notices as he watches you and Jimin get thrown by the blast, tight nuckled watching Jimin tuck his body around you and shouting your name. Pauses the video just to look at Jimin's panic-stricken face. To see him yank you to your feet and put you in the car.

Jungkook makes another soft whine when Jin shifts him, jostling him “One second baby” Jin murmurs, putting his computer to the side. Your jacket is on the side of the nest, delicately folded into the border. Jin detangles it and brings it to his nose.

Fire, burning things, soot. The smell is unmistakable. If the timestamp is to be believed, this is the reason why you and Jimin weren’t at the coffee shop with Jungkook. Jin feels the last little bit of his frustration fade at this.

Oh, Minnie.

It’s no wonder why Jimin was too spooked to speak, why he’s been so laconic tonight. First you and then Jungkook so quick. The stress would have anyone shutting down, this is why Jin's smallest but strongest alpha was so quiet and afraid. Why he’d needed a bit of settling when usually he’s someone Jin can depend on during Jungkook’s seizures. One surprise is hard enough to handle.

Jin shifts his petting from Jungkook’s hair to Jimin’s, combing through his blond strands lovingly.

He rewinds the tape back to the beginning, as far back as it will go, and sets it to 3x speed. The first hour goes by in 5 minutes, The person on camera is in all black, but even in black and white Jin would know the kind of mask they wear. It's red at the top and a stunning grimace at the bottom.

He watches as someone slight and billowy, probably 5’7 in height- no 5’9- figure cuts through the cars, heading for Jimin’s like they know which one to go for. The CCTV footage doesn’t cut out at all. Usually, the family is better in concealing their crimes. Usually, they don’t even leave a hint of evidence.

Usually, they don't send the evidence to Jin.

Jin freezes the frame when the figure turns, with the mask fully facing the camera. It’s a traditional Korean mask, the same one Jin has seen photographed on the rest of the family. He drags up Google, doing a cursory search. The footage is in black and white but the images on file are all red and black.

He goes back to the first murder, those hands, the red paint chipped underneath fingernails and his breathing goes heavy.

He needs to go back to Beomgyu’s dumping site and see if there’s anything red, any other possible reason why he’d have that under his fingernails. Either that or this is all connected, and the same person who killed him is trying to kill you.

Jin's breath goes heavy when he thinks about what could have happened if Jimin hadn't been there.

Jin does not wake you and demand to know what happened, Jin keeps his breathing measured and shallow. Does not let his scent get sour enough to wake the others. Jin fully detangles himself from Jungkook and pauses to lean over you, thumb skimming the Band-Aid on your chin.

No one hurts his pack and gets away with it. No one.

He’ll think about what you know and why Jimin didn't tell him later. Poor thing was probably just too shocked to say anything. You might have convinced him that saying anything would have put Jungkook in distress. Jin's anger is a cool sort, it's not you that he's angry at.

It’s only 5 a.m. but Jin goes and gets a coffee anyways. When he gets back, he shoves it into Namjoon’s hands startling him awake. But one glance at the pack omega says that he means business. Shadowed face unreadable silhouetted against the bright and open hospital door.

“Get the doctor, we’re going home.”

~-~

You wake in the hospital bed, roused by Yoongi's gentle hand on your shoulder, feeling listless and sorer than ever with Hobi’s nose pressed to the nape of your neck and Jungkook at your front. You wonder when that started to feel normal. When Hobi cuddled you stopped feeling so forbidden.

you know that when you take off your clothes you'll find your front bruised from falling, that you'll find your body dinnged. you don't know what you'll say, how you'll excuse the marks away from them but in the meantime, you watch jungkook. get a washcloth from the bathroom and whipe his face for him, standing between his legs.

"do you want water? coffee? can i get you something before your MRI"

namjoon sighs heavy, "pup- he can't-"

jungkook leans into your hands, letting you drag the cloth over his face, it's as much grooming as you ever have, but jungkook just smiles up at you and shakes his head. "when we get home yeah?"

The golden light streams through the horizontal blinds and Jungkook shifts as he gets out of the hospital bed and into a wheelchair for his MRI, and you wait for him with the rest of the pack. Yoongi returns with bagels and coffee for everyone. The caffeine makes you all jittery.

After he's given a clean bill of health, Jungkook leaves the hospital under his own power, on his own two feet because he always needs that certainty. Declining the wheelchair that the staff offers because honestly, he’s fine, he'd run out of here if he didn't think namjoon would drag him right back inside.

You’re guided into Jimin’s car, Yoongi drives. Hobi is in the front, turning to look at you more than he should, asking you questions about what song you want to play. Really, it can go as loud as you want cuz Jungkook's in the other car. He asks too many for your brain to answer accurately. You're too tired too worn out too everything to answer.

But when you get home, there is even more movement too quick for your sleepy brain to comprehend. Jin has to go to work and so does Namjoon; something about a revision surgery that won’t take too much time and can't be rescheduled. He's barely changed and cleaned himself before he's heading out the door again. Definitely a bit too tired, but oh well.

But now at home, the rest of the pack has Jungkook well in hand and ready for a bit more babying. Jungkook will be fine by this evening. Is honestly fine now. Just a little tired of being poked and prodded and just needs to nest and rest.

Jin too seems distracted by something, checking his phone and kissing each of you on the forehead before he goes. You're tempted to whine and ask them to stay, if not for Jungkook then for you but before you can, Hobi grips both of your shoulders and tells Namjoon and Jin that he’s got it, and the moment gets stolen away from you.

“I’ll get your pajamas,” he says after the door thuds closed, while Jungkook says something to Yoongi. Noodle meows and darts around Tae's heels and Jimin carries Jungkook to the couch and gently, gently- sets him down. Your mate is distracted right now (as he should be) but that doesn’t mean Hobi can’t fill the gaps.

He thuds up the stairs, bare feet probably cold. The house is still cold from a night left empty even though Yoongi’s just turned the heat on.

Jimin gets a ding on his phone, standing up the second he’s seen it.

Unknown (9:18): I want to talk to you about a murder.

Unknown (9:18): One you might have a vested interest in.

The picture is grainy, but Jimin knows the faces of the two women like the back of his hand although Hyejin takes a few seconds of racking his brain to place. Jimin feels his blood cool to a simmer and the shaking in his hands stops. His phone dings a few more times, whoever's sending it through must be a fast texter, from a burner phone no doubt.

Unknown (9:19): Especially because of the sensitive nature of this, you understand why I’d want to meet in person.

Unknown (9:19): (See attached address)

Jimin's suspicions are immediately peaked, warning bells going off loud. But before he can do more than read over the messages again more come through.

Unknown (9:20): I’m willing to offer you 10x your normal rate for each kill. Two Mil upfront. And Three more when the hit is carried out. I understand how risky it is for you to even view these texts so here

Jimin watches the next notification from his bank account ding through and holds his breath.

Fuck, that's a lot of Zeros.

Unknown (9:20): As a show of my good faith in you. I'll see you in three hours. If not, enjoy the money.

Jimin holds onto the phone like it’s a lifeline, the black plastic case digging into his fingers. He knows it's stupid, he knows that it's dangerous, and a million other things but-

Jin's words ring in his ears. "I know you'll do whatever you have to do to protect the pack, until your dying breath."

The money means nothing to Jimin, he'd do this killing for free. Out of all the lives he's ever taken, this is the first one that maybe he's ever felt vindicated in. the first murder that he's ever truly wanted to commit.

He's gripping his phone so hard he doesn't move until you make a noise. And when he looks up at you, you have a glass of water in your hands, waiting there, watching him. There is still that fucking scrape on your chin. Jimin looks at it and his mind is made up. All of this karma has come due.

If Jimin's being honest with himself, it's not Moonbyul’s confrontation or her comments about you that had Jimin so bothered.

All that "you belong to me" kind of talk that bullshit alphas with something to prove say, like something out of a manhwa. If he's being honest, the thing that bothered him the most, that made him so very angry was how clearly you didn't want them, and how willing she was to ignore that.

He grins at you, tipping his head back and you think Jimin might look like more of a demon than a man.

“I have to go to work.”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he reaches for Mini and tries to cling but Jimin steps away, sliding back on his still-warm shoes. “I thought you called out already?”

Jimin tugs on his coat, The one with the reinforcement in it, hard panels that flap just a little bit too stiffly. The shoulders that seem just a little too crisp.

"Sorry Koo it's an emergency."

You know just by looking at him that this isn’t for his other job. (You don’t think of bodyguarding as Jimin's real job, not when this one is so much more prescient and dangerous.) You follow him outside, the door closing with that same rusty jingle of the old doorknob.

“It’s not from her.” The words are quiet, stolen. The empty birdfeeder clangs in a sudden wind and you shiver, warm only for a few seconds without a jacket. Jimin’s hand skims your shoulder and he pushes at it, urging you to go back inside.

“It’s not just her who hires me, this isn’t related to her.” He lies effortlessly. Turning and making to walk away, you wrap your arms around him and almost make him fall down the stairs but he catches both of you, swaying at the bottom.

“Pup, you need to let me go,”

“No!” you cling to him stubbornly, “if I let you go something bad is going to happen!”

Jimin is so quiet you think you might not hear him. He stops struggling and trying to twist out of your arms for a second. “You’ve got to, I have to do this, please.” his tone is so calm, so gentle. Jimin is smiling down at you when you pull back to look up at him. He gently but forcefully separates you from him, hands holding yours and prying them apart.

“I’ve got too much to make up for. You have to let me do this.”

You have a bad feeling about this, your instincts that you should listen to. Walking into this so soon after Jungkook’s seizure. Is this punishment for leaving him? Jimin slips from between your hands. Walking to his car, and you feel a lurching in your gut like something terrible is about to happen.

You say nothing, watching him, heart beating quick. but you are powerless to stop him, powerless to keep him from leaving.

You wonder if this is how Yoongi felt, leaving them. Powerless.

“You'll come back? you've got to- you can't-" you can't leave us is what you want to say. Standing on the steps of the house, Jimin by his car.

"I'd never dream of leaving you." Jimin says, swearing it. And all the fight goes out of your sails.

"Be careful Minnie.”

He looks back at you, hair ruffled by the wind. All the snow from the night before has melted but the cold will stay.

“Always am.”

You nod, giving him permission and Jimin gets in his car. You return inside where it’s warmer. And Jimin turns it on, but before he has a chance to pull away from the curb, his phone lights up with another notification.

Unknown (9:27): Make sure to wear your mask.

~-~

The location on his phone is a lot more desolate in person, the scrub brush that’s that's grown in is thick enough to hide his car. Green by the river and poisoned into sticks here. Jimin parks far away among the maze of what must be four-wheeler tracks and walks in. mask on and gun at the ready.

The rusted metal of the industrial park rises out of the soil and the fog. It has to have been abandoned for years given how poor of a condition it's in. There are a few half-fallen-down buildings and one big complicated warehouse flanked on one side by a wide and slow-moving river. The soil smells strongly of gasoline and rust. The soil here is probably soaked through with it. Jimin wonders if would burn and catch fire if a spark was lit.

The traditional mask fits snugly on Jimin’s face, the hole at the mouth just large enough for him to not feel like he’s suffocating. Eye holes are wide enough to see and not block his peripheries.

The doors are cracked and nearly rusted shut with age but Jimin slides through a crack easily. He’s a whole hour early on purpose. This is all by design, every moment of this. Every second is orchestrated like a symphony;

Jimin is the violin, with high and pointed movements, drawing his weapon like a cymbal. The crunch of his boots on the floor the drums, every breath a crooning saxophone. His thoughts flute spiraling up like high delights. All of this builds to one big crescendo.

He doesn’t take out his phone to check the time. The upstairs is mostly unlit but Jimin doesn't use a light, just lets his eyes adjust. He waits, stalking quietly, completely silent in his movements.

Jimin is not nervous about this handoff, mostly, he’s just wondering who it is in the family that's finally betraying her. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t suspect that the conditions of this were a little too perfect. Money and all.

The main atrium of the industrial park is rusted up with age. Old metal shipping containers that used to hold smelting equipment or maybe molten metal long since rusted out even though the chains still hang from the ceiling. A suspended catwalk rings the room on all sides.

Jimin spends a few minutes casing the place, noting the exits, and the obvious places to hide. The old rusty fans at the apex of the roof turn and squeak softly from the wind outside. The whole place smells like chemicals and rust. It's all Jimin can do not to have a coughing fit.

It’s a wonder he doesn’t smell the blood sooner

(Trust me, I speak from experience. if you spend enough time around blood that's not your own, you’ll eventually be able to smell it. Even a drop in an empty room. like a hound the the hunt. You'll smell it.)

Jimin is almost done with logging the entrance and exits when he finds the body.

He rushes to their side, Jimin doesn’t recognize their face when he slides whats left of the traditional mask off their face, it's the same as his. Racking his brain to recognize the face but nothing. the masks is broken into pieces. A bullet between the eyes is a good shot.

Before Jimin can do anything, can decide if this is a setup or just a meet-up gone wrong, He hears footsteps behind him.

~-~

In the wake of Jin, Namjoon, and Jimin leaving, the rest of the pack is a bit forlorn. Jungkook is not so mobile, not so willing to make the trek upstairs. Worried about the stairs and any sudden seizures and all. But there is no shortage of cuddle spots on the ground floor, you've made many a nest in the living room before.

And besides, in such proximity to the kitchen, Jungkook can have all his treats this way.

Lately, it’s started to feel like the pack has several nests, the one upstairs, the nesting pod, and the one on the old grey couch when you shove all the pieces together. Yoongi indulges jungkook in half a bar of dark chocolate while you get some nesting materials. Blankets and your wet cheeks catching the dimmed lights.

You’re a little pouty and a lot quiet, and the others take note of it. Skimming comforting hands up and down your shoulders, always touching you like they’re making sure you’re there. They don't ask why you're upset at Jimin leaving. They don't have to wonder. you snap the blanket as you fluff it huffing.

Jungkook finds your angry nestmaking cute. he pulls you down on top of him nipping at your throat when you fuss a little too long. Testing out Jin's method of settling on you.

It’s surprising even to you when the action sparks tears in your eyes, the opposite he was hoping for. You rub at your wet eyes with a clenched fist stubbornly. It’s not even noon yet and you’re already crying. You're so exhausted by everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours, so tired. You can't be blamed for getting a little teary-eyed.

Tae reappears, freshly showered. Her shoulder-length hair already starting to dry. tilting your face up to her's and says "Oh my little dove-

She piles into the nest and upstairs you hear Hobi moving around. tae stradles jungkook's thighs and shifts the two of you, lying you all flat,

"Don’t worry about Minnie, he’s always had something to prove.” You rub at your tears stubbornly, sniffling and nodding. Jungkook threads his fingers through the back of your hair, a little indelicately. But he loves without boundaries, like a butterfly flapping its wings for the first time.

“But why-” your words are quiet but broken, “why does he always feel so-"

“Guilty?” Tae finishes for you, looking out the window in the direction that Jimin disappeared. Humming as she strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt.

Hobi appears at the bottom of the stairs smiling. "Are we talking about Jimin's guilt complex again?"

Your mate groans and finishes putting together a little snack board. "I swear we've probably had this discussion like- fucking 20 times?" Yoongi's not wrong.

You only get more teared-eyed, crying a little bratty, thumping weakly against jungkook's chest, he grabs your thigh and pulls you snug across his lap. "But why! Why does he feel like everything is his fault?"

Tae hides her sad smile behind a hand, and you're less upset looking at it. Calmed in a second, because they have talked about this you realize, everyone in the pack is well aware.

“I guess he feels guilty because," Tae sighs, "because he was so loved.” Tae's fingers dance along Jungkook's thigh, and you're all quiet. everyone is quiet when they hear tae talk about jimin. it's a little like listening to someone describe what it feels like listening to your favorite song for the first time, what it's like to taste your favorite food, the feeling of a first kiss.

Hobi comes close to tae, sets down a shirt and a pair of pants. "would you get them into this while i shower?" the curtains are drawn and hobi goes upstairs and Tae undresses you while she speaks. You're a doll, teary eyed and willing as she and Jungkook strip you and put you in clean clothes. You didn't realize how much you needed to not smell like hospital until it's done.

"The first love you lose always hurts you the most, whether that's romantic love or parental love doesn't really matters. Each person metabolizes it differently. Truthfully, I believe that Jimin lost love the first time and promised himself- never again."

Tae talks, playing with Jungkook’s hair. He pouts “he's never gonna lose us.” Tae hums, agreeing. But you can see in her eyes the sadness there. Wounds that might never heal and wanting that might never fade.

Yoongi sits down beside you and together, the three of you undress and dress Jungkook. He could probably do it himself just like you could, but he's a willing puppet, happy when Tae tickles his tummy and slides his shirt over his head.

A minute later, Hobi's back, wet head that drips onto your cheek when he leans over Jungkook's curled form to grab one of the grapes on the snack board that Yoongi made. And Tae stares off into space, thinking of Jimin, how they met and how they feel in love, everything between then and now.

Tae smiles just thinking of him. "i know that pup, he just- he can't let himself believe it no matter how much he wants too. It was really hard on him, how our parents treated us, Jimin has guilt built into him because they made him that way."

It's too simple of an explanation for what they went through. What does it mean to love a parent that hates you? Or at least to have a parent that does not strive to understand you. How many times did the words linger on Tae’s lips? Standing in the doorway wearing a little boy jersey and little boy clothes, listening to his mother talk about the things on the news.

Wondering, Mom, would you give up God for me?

Tae rests her cheek on her hand. Her nail polish has gotten all chipped, maybe she picked at it nervously while you were at the hospital. She has a habit of picking at it when she needs something for her hands to do.

“If Jimin had a religion- it would be love. And every time he feels even a little bit like he's not loving us the way he should, he beats himself up for it and guilts himself into loving harder, loving better. He considers a lack of love the greatest crime. So yeah, feeling guilty is par for the course."

Jungkook groans, tipping his head back against the sofa, “I’ve told him, I’ve told him a million times-“

“Doesn’t matter” Hobi interrupts, “he still hates it when he’s not there when you have a seizure. He's upset with himself, that's why he left. Giving him more love when he feels like he doesn't deserve it is like his worst nightmare.”

You think of the explosion. Of Jimin pining your body and putting himself between you and the blast. Maybe with Jimin it's so instinctual it's not even a conscious decision. You wonder if it ever gets easy, to make the decision to sacrifice yourself for the people you love. Does that make Mimin feel like he deserves them more? the sacrifice?

You don’t know if it would be as innate with you, You might have to think it through for a few seconds.

You don't like that. You don't like realizing that you'd need to think through it however briefly. You fear a world in which you don’t love him as much as he loves you, in which any of this isn’t reciprocal.

(But then again, most recipes have twice as much sugar as butter.)

You melt against Hobi’s side. “He shouldn’t,” you say, feeling useless, a little quieter, a little bit more upset. “He shouldn’t feel guilty, he loves us enough!” Tae’s hand rests on your ankle, and her laugh strikes high and sad.

Outside a mourning dove coos, a lonely soft sound.

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to love Jimin more than he loves me for my whole life. He wants to win the 'I love you more' debate every time.”

~-~

The Industrial Park is different than Jin remembers.

It rises a little more jagged against the surrounding area of 3-meter-high brush that disguises a network of other dilapidated sheds and half flooded buildings. Jin recites what he knows about this place; the facts.

An iron processing plant, decimated by the flood of a nearby river 2 dozen years ago and bought through a shell corporation. Vacant land with so many entrances and exits. A veritable hotbed and the perfect body dumping site. construction on a housing development delayed on account of how expensive the environmental clean up.

He scans the building for red paint.

He can be forgiven for not seeing Jimin’s car, parked on the fringes. The opposite side from where Jin came in because Jin had to stop at the office first. Jin can be forgiven for having his blinders on, so focused with single-minded intent that he misses some of the signs. The smell of gasoline drowns out Jimin's vanilla scent.

Jin sees the fresh footprints in the dirt and draws his weapon.

That's the whole reason why it took him so long to get here, (why Jimin got here first even though he left second) He couldn't just go into an unknown setting alone unarmed, he'd had to stop back at the office to grab his vest and his FBI-issued firearm, a standard-issue Glock 17. Forghein and unwelcomed in his hands.

Even Jin will admit that he’s not the best marksman, (Jin had barely passed his exam a few years back, and continually has to study and practice for his re-certification every 6 months.) Jin does not prefer to be armed. If he wasn’t alone, if he didn’t go by himself for this, He might not have brought his weapon at all.

Jin enters through the front door; the old hanger doors are already open. Feet crunching on the gravel. Jin can feel his heartbeat in his fingers, how hard he’s holding the gun, he’s never had to discharge it during a field excursion before. How unbecoming of a director, how green of him. He lacks this experience.

The tip of the weapon shakes because he's holding it so hard. Jin feels like he can feel the breath of unseen eyes on the back of his neck. Someone is here, he knows it.

Jin walks into the atrium, gun at the ready, turning the corner when he sees them.

One masked man is bending over another a body, already strewn across the floor and dead. the man's mask litters the floor in red shards. Jin sees the gun in the living man's hands, gloved, Jin snaps his hand up and aims before he can really take in the details of the scene.

“Stop! FBI! Put your hands where I can see them!”

The man at the other end of the room tilts his head and does not speak, red mask flashing in the half-light. There is a single breath where the man does not move, just looks at Jin with that tilted face. silent. But then he takes off, running like his life depends on it. bolting down a corridor and out of range of Jin’s accuracy on the best of days.

Jin fires a shot and misses. It hits the metal wall with a loud clink and a bright spark, ricocheting off into space.

Jin curses and takes off after the killer, skidding in the dust and bashing into the wall, gun banning against the door with a loud metallic clang as he slides through it, running from hall to hall trying to get a good shot.

Every time Jin crests a turn and tries to aim, the man rounds another, darting through the maze of hallways and shipping containers.

Jin has longer legs and is taller and faster than his target. He catches up to them by the stairs, the man turns and hesitates again. If Jin were less adrenaline high he might already realize they've tucked their gun away.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

The criminal bolts up the stairs and Jin goes too. Up and up and up onto the catwalk. Feet clangs against the metal, the suspended walkway sways under the force of their steps, The chains clanking.

And then, at the very end, he stops.

Jimin turns, casting one glance back at him. And hesitates, the mask catches the light again. And Jimin reaches up, about to take it off. The words, "Stop baby it's me." Already hovering on the edge of his lips.

He never gets the chance to say them. Jin’s finger finds the trigger, and the gun fires in a gorgeous explosion of gunpowder and force. Fire made small, and love made lethal.

Jimin hits the wall from the force of the bullet, hitting the latch at the back of his head.

The mask falls off.

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

Everybody lives nobody dies.

Let me repeat that again NOBODY DIES, no one, not even Jimin. He’s just gonna be a little bloody from this, that’s all, before you get angry and yell at me.

I could have made this more convoluted, but I decided not too because…I simply did not want to stage a chapter between this one and the next one.

Jimin’s autistic meltdowns look a whole lot like mine do, I know they’re not typically what other people associate with meltdowns. But going nonverbal and stimming with your body (pacing) is very on par with me.

I felt like we needed to see a little bit of the jinmin dynamic before you know…Jin shoots him, just for funsies. And to talk about how Jimin loves.

A lot of people expressed a desire for Jimin to have some sort of concenquence for the way he treated Tae when she came out, just the part where he needed space, and for him not helping the m/c when he could have. I think this is his penance for that, getting shot by Jin, getting betrayed- however unintentionally- by someone he loves is the justice for those moments. I’ve always been stalwart on the fact that the bily charecters act sort of terribly sometimes because real people act terribly too, they’re dynamic in the way that they love and handle their actions.

On the subject of like- who framed what and explaining the events of the chapter, moonbyul and Hyejin are orchestrating everything. They pay Jimin MOSTLY because they know how suspicious it is and are trying to do anything they can to expose Jin to him. The scene in the industrial park goes exactly the way they wanted it too…accept that Jimin will live. They didn’t count on Jin being a poor shot lol

They are trying not only to manipulate the m/c away from the pack, but destabilize them to try and make the m/c come to them. Having one packmate kill another is definitely they way they wanted to do this. They’d 1000% just kill everyone if they thought that would give them the m/c but they’re attempting to manipulate her into coming to them rather than just abducting her point blank.

Funnily enough this is one cannon-cannon event of bily like, Jin was always going to shoot Jimin. If you go back and forth in other chapters you can see that Jin is almost constantly touching Jimin’s shoulder. It’s up to you if you think that Jin’s bullet got close enough to Jimin’s heart to kill him or if by some luck he survived

That’s a lie I can’t lie to you guys he’s 1000% going to live through this I can’t keep secrets from you guys, no one dies in this story even if it seems like they might at times we only have one more almost death to get through.

I feel like this chapter had less flowery language than my usual ones in part because it’s got a bit from Jin’s pov and also because everyone is so scared and frozen through the whole thing.

I cannot even begin to tell you how much less stressful the next chapter of bily is than my life, like i would rather GET SHOT AGAIN then be where i currently am, with the same level of anxiety that i have.

i wish i had time to edit this more but alas! its only 2 hours until i'll post this and i'm just finishing it up.

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captainjamster · 7 months

Text

Observation Duty

Pairing(s): Price x fem!Reader Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, monitoring and surveillance, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual mutual masturbation, non-consensual recording and photos Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: John isn't quite the captain everyone thinks he is, but he knows just how to act like it. No one would ever believe the things he does behind closed doors. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ MORE! This is the first part of what should be two chapters, because I can't stop starting things without finishing them <3

If I miss any tags you think should be there, please let me know!

Full fic under the cut <3

John’s line of work has taught him that people are so, so easy to play with. Know the right person, the right place. Know what to say, who to say it to.

Keeping you safe, under his ever-observant eye, is easy in the barracks and on the field. You don’t make a single move he doesn’t see or hasn’t approved. But when you go home, away from him and his control, he just can’t help but worry. Are you safe, alone in that big, empty house? What do you get up to? Are you eating and drinking? Taking care of yourself? Who do you see? Do you invite anyone around? The idea of another man in your home makes him shudder, and in your bedroom isn’t something he even entertains. John needs to do something about it.

He’s been thinking for a while. Some way to watch you, every waking moment. A permanent eye on the wall. He knows your address; it’s right there in your files. There isn’t a single legal document or piece of information about you that he can’t obtain if he wants to. Every place you’ve lived, your parents, extended family, even your friendship circles. Your school results, community hobbies, bank purchases, every doctors trip – especially your birth control and fertility, he paid very close attention to those details. He knows how to play you; he listens to your grumbling, observes what makes you happy. Notices the moments where you’re less resistant, records what makes you flare up in defensiveness or fury. John is a well-educated man, one who could’ve been a scholar in another life, and he’s decided his favourite topic to study is you.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

“Remember to fill out your forms, lads. New policies coverin’ house insurance and maintenance, let me know if y’need any fixin’ at home.” He hands out the papers, carefully keeping yours separate without being too obvious. Soap’s head bobs up, glancing at you and taking the bait John has set out perfectly. “Oi bonnie, weren’t ye chattin’ ‘bout fixin’ a light o’ somethin’?”

Your face lights up at the mention, a bashful smile gracing your lips, and John would be mad that it’s not in his direction if he wasn’t so satisfied with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that, yeah! I was going to wait until I got home.”

Gaz hums, hunched over his own form as he signs it. “Maybe Ghost can buy a piece of furniture this year.” His sentence is rewarded with a pen smacking into the side of his head, bouncing off him and onto the table as Ghost snorts in amusement, answering gruffly. “Fuck off, Garrick.”

It never goes wrong, but he still feels smug at how effortless it is to orchestrate an entire conversation before it starts. Getting your signature is as easy as an extra sheet, you can’t even tell the difference. No one reads terms and conditions, and he’s made extra sure you don’t - a couple of edited test forms a few months ago - to rule out the chance.

With the paperwork completed, he contacts the company and gives them a boring, digestible cover story. “Yeah, her husband. Installing cameras, yeah. Keepin’ it safe while we’re both on deployment. Just a light out the back to fix, cameras to install in and outside.”

They’re so quick to listen to the man playing the big, strong head of the house, not a single question about why everything but the payment would be in his ‘wife’s’ name instead. Lying, John finds, is easiest when others do the work for you; give vague details that seem right, and let them come to their own little conclusions. Let them assume you’re some kind of military wife who doddles along behind him, just an obedient little civilian pet while he organises the household. If only they knew what you were and what you did, he thinks. Though still, an obedient little pet is how he would like you. It just takes time to get there.

They come over and install the cameras in less than a week. John’s antsy the day he gets the call that they finished, waiting for it to be over so he can experiment with his new toy. He ignores the questioning looks from his inferiors as he dismisses his last evening meeting early, pushing out the door into the stream of soldiers heading for dinner, only departing from the pack when he reaches his office door.

John prepared a room for this in advance – the moment he set the plan in motion. A room at home, his central control that he could run unmanned and long-distance, circumnavigating his occupancy at the base. It’s almost undetectable; no pesky windows to peek in from the outside, entry hidden behind a locked door in his office. The numerous screens flicker to life, illuminating the room in a blue glow. The cameras are perfect; detailed quality, blur-less zoom. Every angle. It quickly becomes his favourite room to be in, despite only being in it once when he headed home to initially set everything up.

At the base, all he needs is an electronic device and an app to access the command. His favourite to use is his phone, flicking through each screen to take in the rooms, committing each detail and decoration to heart. Though to keep up all professional appearances, he often settles for his laptop, flicking between reports and gazing at the screens with every spare second. John takes the weeks leading up to break to memorise your house, seeing each room flickering on the back of his eyelids as lies in bed, tracing each path you’d take morning and night until he falls asleep.

He protects it. Types your address into his maps app, virtually scouting the neighbourhood to make sense of all your outside cameras, memorising every surrounding street. Plans escape routes, recording positions of defence and any weak spots he could reinforce, windows or vents that are just too easy to wrench open by perverse men like him. Within a month, he knows your house plan like his own; enough to contemplate how he would reorganise it if you wanted him to move in, how many little ones it could hold, tiny feet pattering up and down its hallways.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

When the last week before leave finally comes around, he’s beyond ecstatic. John is a carefully controlled slate around anyone else, but his boys know each twitch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lip. They clue you in to his unusually excited behaviour with teasing jokes and remarks that have him rolling his eyes, gruffly ordering them back to work. Soap is betting on a secret missus, making a point to sneak up behind Price when Soap catches him texting away on his phone.

When he finally arrives home, he’s delighted to see your house is still empty. It gives him time to unpack, running loads of laundry and showering. He keeps an eye on his phone, monitoring the screens until he finishes, bringing a cup of coffee and dinner to his little surveillance room.

The screens fill the wall, a 3x3 set-up that basks the room in a pale glow, yet still isn’t enough to display every camera hidden around your house. Everything is silent, the occasional rumble of a car getting his hopes up, but nothing happens until a few sips of his coffee and an article later. Movement from one of the screen catches his attention, his head straightening to watch your front door swing open.

A bag is the first thing that comes through the door, flung down the hallway with a dull thud. Your figure follows it in, heaving another heavy bag behind you. John frowns at the sight, mindlessly tutting as he crosses his arms. He could be there to do that for you. None of this silly straining yourself.

Leaning back and settling in, he watches how you unravel from your long absence. It pleases him that you’re practical in your return, taking the time to wash your laundry, circulate and dispel all the stagnant air (although Price dislikes seeing your windows open, so unattended), and give the place a general tidy up. There’s a ping from your phone a few times that puts John on edge. Who’s texting you already, when you’ve been back for less than a day? His prominent guess is family and close friends, excited to have their beloved child home and safe, but he can’t help from worrying that he’s wrong. Maybe you’re so pent up that you just can’t help it, using those silly dating apps you talk about with Gaz, eager for someone to unravel all that need within you. Maybe it’s an old friends-with-benefits situation you already have that’s eager to climb back in your bed. Maybe – maybe he should bug your devices.

His deliberations are disrupted as you reward your productivity with what Price thinks to be a party in your bathroom. The small haven of what should be privacy isn’t free from his omniscient gaze, either. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting; there are no boundaries to him. There isn’t a single side of you he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.

The music comes through his speakers, some songs he recognises from the long travels spent in transport together. Melodies echo through your room as steam slowly gathers, whisps streaming in and out of his lens view as water slowly fills the bath. You trail from the room, meandering down the hall and grabbing some snacks from the kitchen, filling a glass with a carbonated drink you grab from the fridge. Snug in the corner above the entryway, paired neatly with the fire alarm, his camera catches the way you bend yourself over the counter, distracted by scrolling through some app.

He feels himself throb at the sight, fumbling to take a screenshot of the image. You tease him, staying bent like that as you wait for the bath, your ass swaying occasionally when a trendy song hums from your phone. Disappointment washes through him when you stand up, though he basks in the sight of your stomach peaking from under your shirt as you stretch, but his excitement is quickly renewed when you gather your snacks and head back to the bathroom.

The room has filled with a thick fog that blooms out into the hallway as you open the door. It clouds his vision, leaving him cursing for not considering the possibility. Your darkened figure is hardly visible as you move throughout the room, but from the soft, metallic clicks and flickering of light, he assumes you’re lighting something. Two lights blossom in front of you, remaining behind you as you crouch at the bath and start flicking the lighter again. The cloud has dispersed enough to let John see the fuzzy details of your face, watching as you bring a third candle to your face, inhaling with a hum of delight before you light the flame and return it to the bath’s edge. You strew the candles about the room, leaving a large one to glow on your vanity and putting the other one on your closed toilet lid.

You fiddle with the taps – running cold water, he guesses – and sit on the floor, sorting your snacks onto a long tray as the last of the mist spills from the room. He’s been lucky this time; had you not been treating yourself, taking the time to create a small sanctuary, the fog would’ve concealed any chance of John seeing you at such a vulnerable time. A flaw within his system that requires refinement. Perhaps a flaw he can turn into an excuse to visit you.

His thoughts fall flat when you stand up, slotting the tray into its position over the bath and silencing the taps with a few sharp turns. Finally. The point he’s been anticipating.

The captain waits with bated breath, eager to salivate over his uninvited striptease. It’s far from the first time he’s seen you undress, though it’s the first time you’ve been so beautifully unaware. Close proximity (and the resulting lack of privacy) is just another test of comradery – he’s showered next to you in just underwear and ripped your shirt or pants off to treat a stab wound more times than he can count.

But this time you undress, you don’t stop at your underwear.

There’s no to palaver or parade to your performance – there’s no real performance, just a one-sided show, and that alone has John’s cock aching. Capturing you without filter, pretences or social expectations, no song and dance of captain and soldier. You’re clumsy pulling off your underwear, catching the elastic on your toes and throwing it haphazardly onto the floor with the rest of your clothes through curses and grumbles. Inspecting yourself in the mirror, catching up on each new scar and burn, bending over and peering around to see the state of your backside and between your thighs. This is a side of you he can never glimpse on base, despite all his attempts.

The buzz of your phone distracts you, straightening up with a right, okay! and grabbing the small device, unlocking it to peer at the content as you gingerly slide a foot into the hot, soapy water. Bit by bit, you emerge yourself within the sudsy liquid, minding the tray as you let out an audible groan. John watches you melt into the bubbles, arms resting along the tub as your head falls back.

For a while, the two of you remain like that; John sat comfortably in his chair, ignoring the heat flickering in his lower stomach as he works through some papers, keeping an eye on your relaxed form as you decompress within the hot, sudsy water, picking at the tray of food and drink. His attention slips as the minutes go by, becoming more focused on his work – pushing the aching need between his legs further to the side - as he checks the screen every ten minutes.

The swishing of water becomes a tranquil ambience as you scrub at yourself, low voices from your phone that John doesn’t currently care to make out keeping you entertained through the process. You luxuriate in the tub for much longer than the barrack would ever allow, taking your time to scrub the build-up of product and dead skin that you give little concern during deployment.

A paper absorbs his attention, keeping his eyes occupied as he grumbles through writing. His concentration is only torn away as he finishes scribbling his signature, a sharp, unexpected moan filling his ears that has him looking up so fast his neck cricks. Scanning the screen, he quickly determines that it’s not coming from you – rather, your phone, and is now accompanied by a deep, masculine groan.

Your expression is clear on his screen, a flush to your cheeks as you gaze at your device, hand running along your chest teasingly to tug at a nipple. Whether it’s from the pornographic material playing on your phone or the heat of the water, John can’t tell.

The tent of his pants is already insufferably tight, and he swears there’ll be a zipper print against the red of his aching cock when he pulls it out. He wants to relish this, commit each moment of this first time to memory without the taint of his lust, but he can’t help the growing need between his legs. Ignoring it to finish paperwork, merely bask in the company of your unwinding routine, has been a challenge even for his steeled resolve.

As he watches your hand trail down the soft pudge of your torso, dipping into the bubbly water to follow the rise and dip of your stomach, he breaks. His cock springs out of his briefs like it’s gasping for air, bouncing angrily against his stomach with each haphazard tug at the elastic around his hips. He can only imagine how your fingers work between your legs at that sensitive skin, how you orchestrate your undoing.

The tray holds your phone conveniently, allowing both hands to roam your body, and John thanks his luck for at least the opportunity to watch you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. You tug at the sensitive buds with whimpered moans, water sloshing as your hips buck against your hand, teasing John with actions that he can’t see.

He’s damp to the touch as he grips his shaft, fingers immediately sticky with precum that’s been smeared throughout his briefs. Pearlescent beads drool from his tip in a lazy stream, lubricating his motions as he tugs lightly at his foreskin, already teetering the edge of climax. The slightest stimulation has his stomach tightening, listening to your gasps and whines grow in urgency.

You chase your orgasm eagerly, working with a pent up need that comes from the absence of full privacy within the miliary. Convulsions rack through you in synchronisation, moans combining in a harmony he wishes wasn’t separated by the screen. He wants to time it perfectly; fuck up into his fist and release as you reach your own peak, as if a flawless synchronisation is key to unlocking some phantom sensation of being buried between your thighs, clenched down around him.

It doesn’t take much more teasing before you catch up, your tiles wet as water breaches the rim with each careless thrust. The video in front of you has ended, long forgotten as your head lulls back, lost in the sensations that envelope your consciousness that prove to be too much. They push you over the edge with a ragged cry, your knees peaking from the water as your thighs clench around your hand, and John loses himself too.

All it takes it a few weak thrusts into his hand before his balls are tightening, seed spilling in enthusiastic spurts, striping his shirt and pants before it dies down to a dribble that John coaxes out with a groan. He sits there, watching your breathing even out as you wipe away at your mess, spent and catching his breath as the cum dries on his clothes. You’re quick in cleaning up the mess, pulling yourself up on unsteady limbs as you pull the plug, bending down to rinse your hands one last time for John to relish.

He's almost heartbroken when you step out the tub, droplets cascading down to drip from your form, only to reach for a towel to wrap around yourself. The fabric is a slim cover, leaving glimpses of your behind and chest as you dry yourself, humming a tune with a note of content John wishes he brought instead. John tucks himself back into the soiled briefs, shucking off his shirt and pants to wash momentarily, but not before he glimpses you one last time getting changed.

Before you can reach for the underwear placed in advance on the sink and discard your towel, the camera barely picks up the vibration of your phone, catching both his and your attention. Leaning over to the tray, your process is halted by a text on your screen that makes you smile, and whether it’s the drunken, post-orgasmic haze that clouds his mind, or the way it makes him more vulnerable to the surge of jealousy that flares up at your giggle, John finds himself fumbling through the lockscreen and pulling up your contact before he can stop himself.

If you’re not going to think about him during your masturbation, he’s sure as hell going to make sure you think of him after.

Dividers by cafekitsune

#READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE BABIES!!!!#price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #jams writings #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon

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crevicedwelling · 9 months

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I have a pretty bad fear of wasps. Nothing crippling, I can observe them from a distance just fine, but it does make being outside on warm, sunny days a stressful experience. I want to work on it, because I know they're just like any other animal: they're just minding their own business 99% of the time, they're not out to get you, and they deserve a place on this world as much as any other. And I know some can even learn to recognize/"befriend" people, which I think is super cool. I actually followed your blog partially because you post about wasps and I knew it would help to regularly expose myself to wasps that way.

I still sometimes freeze up or get really jumpy when I see a wasp near me. But I can tell I've been getting better. Just the other day I went to the Renaissance Festival and was carrying around a big cup of mead (a.k.a. wasp attractant) and, yeah, I was followed by a couple wasps. At one point two of them just hung out on the inside of the cup for like five solid minutes licking it clean.

If it weren't for your blog I would've been so terrified I probably would've thrown the cup onto the ground and waited from like twenty feet away for the wasps to leave. But I DIDN'T. I carried it around with me and patiently (and anxiously) waited for the wasps to fly away whenever they did show up.

It's really hard to make myself just stay still when I see a wasp near me. Earlier today I could only do so for maybe 30 seconds before I had to stand up and wait nearby for it to leave. But I'm really trying to get over that fear, and I'm slowly getting better, and I think I owe your blog quite a bit in that regard. So, thank you.

I believe the most common wasp here (at least, the one I was dealing with in those two anecdotes) is some kind of Vespula yellowjacket, probably Vespula maculifrons. So... I dunno, if you have any fun facts or pictures or videos about yellowjackets (either V. maculifrons or yellowjackets in general), I'd love to hear/see those. And if not, that's okay too <3

I think a fun fact that most don’t appreciate about yellowjackets is how much they parasitize one another!

Vespula maculifrons here is a widespread, common species in eastern North America. queens of this species do the usual overwinter under log, find a hole, make a nest deal. they scavenge, they hunt, they feed on nectar. pretty standard Vespula.

V. squamosa is a species that’s very common locally, and when you see workers out and about they act much like other yellowjackets. however, their queens (no photo) are huge, hornet-sized orange wasps quite different from the workers. curiously, V. squamosa don’t make their own nests about 85% of the time. instead, most of those big bruiser queens wait a few weeks longer to come out of hiding, and track down a new Vespula maculifrons nest founded earlier in spring. she’ll march into the smaller species’ nest, chew the original queen to pieces, and bully her daughter workers into submission. she then lays her own eggs in the nest, and produces her own workers who forage alongside the V. maculifrons workers, and over time the colony becomes only made up of V. squamosa. V. squamosa will even take over nests that have already been usurped by another facultative parasite, V. flavopilosa, which usually targets V. maculifrons as well!

in the warmera south, V. squamosa nests can become massive superstructures housing dozens of queens, used year after year. if you’ll allow me a moment of poetic speculation, most of these ancient castles must therefore contain the remnants of a tiny V. maculifrons nest at their core, the gnawed ruins of a conquered house.

#bugs #wasp #hymenoptera #yellowjacket

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 8 months

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Pairing : Dad!Changbin x F!Reader TW : angst ; talk of child loss ; reader is pregnant ; guilt ; anger ; reader has the baby (non-descriptive) ; postpartum depression ; paranormal experience ; happy ending because they deserve it ; (I know these TW's are all over the place, but trust me it makes sense I hope) ; Word Count : 2.6k Request : I feel like part 2 is needed for Changbin, he deserves it, reader deserves it.

The two lines faded into view on the little white stick, but instead of that feeling of excitement that most women would get when finding out something like this, you were filled with guilt. The therapist that you and Changbin had been going to for this had told you that over time, the feeling of guilt would go away and that the two of you would even begin to actively try having a baby again. The both of you were highly doubtful about that.

To be entirely honest, it’s been almost 4 whole years since you and Changbin had tried for a baby, and it’s not like the two of you were trying for one now. Things had gotten… sloppy during a night of drinking, celebrating your 6 year anniversary does that to people, and now here you were, sitting on the edge of the bathtub trying not to cry.

It felt wrong to be having another baby, it felt wrong to even attempt to be happy about it. It wasn’t just the guilt though, it was fear. Fear of the unknown outcome of this pregnancy. Would this baby make it, or would you and Changbin go through 9 months of dreams and planning and hope and excitement just to have this child taken away from you too? It was absolutely terrifying, and you didn’t know how or even if you should tell Changbin, not wanting to get his hopes up either.

///

“It’s a girl!” “Your pregnancy is progressing well, your daughter is healthy.” “Your due date is October 14th! We’re coming right up on it!” All of these things you had heard before, but you refused to let yourself get excited. Now, as you sat in the waiting room where expectant mothers sat with their husbands or their boyfriends, smiles on all their faces, you could only feel sadness.

It was a conundrum to be quite honest. You felt awful for having another baby, you felt guilty, like you were replacing the daughter that you had lost. With all of that, you also felt bad for this new baby, this little girl that didn’t know the pain that you and Changbin had gone through, yet her arrival wasn’t looked at in the same light as your other daughters. That made you feel even more guilty because it wasn’t this baby’s fault, it wasn’t anyone's fault.

“The due dates are the same…” Changbin whispered to you as his thumb brushed along your tense knuckles. The irony of both girls sharing the same due date was scary, downright terrifying. It almost felt like an omen, or a way for the universe to preemptively prepare you for another loss. “She’s our little rainbow baby. She’s coming on her sister's birthday so that we won’t be sad every year.”

You weren’t sure how Changbin could still be so optimistic. Maybe he was just trying to cheer you up so that you wouldn’t worry so much, but it seemed like he was happier than you were at the announcement of your pregnancy. He was ready to start this next chapter in your life, and you were still hung up on the pages from 3 chapters ago. “It doesn’t seem right. Why… Why would she decide to come on her sister’s birthday? How am I supposed to be happy and celebrate the life of another child on the day that we lost our girl? I just… It feels wrong, Bin…”

It’s not that Changbin didn’t understand, he fully grasped what you meant. Deep down he was suffering with guilt, but he knew that it would be unfair to his second child to treat her any differently just because of the loss of his first daughter. “Baby, it wasn’t her decision on when to come. She might come earlier, she might come later. But her birth will never overshadow Chonsa. We can celebrate the both of them if she does decide to come on Chonsas birthday.” But even that felt wrong, everything about this pregnancy felt wrong even though things were going perfectly fine. “Maybe… Maybe this is what Chonsa wanted… So that you wouldn’t be sad anymore. So that day wouldn’t be one where you spent all day crying again. Maybe-”

“Stop… Seriously, Changbin.” You mumbled, biting the insides of your cheeks as you averted your eyes, looking anywhere but at him so that he wouldn’t see you getting teared up. “You know I don’t like talking about that… I just want to get this appointment over with and go home, okay?” So he went quiet, nodding his head as he squeezed your hand. He was trying, he was doing his best. You had both gone through the same thing, but you were both handling it in very different ways.

///

“Baby, you need to eat. Please… You’re worrying me…” Changbins voice was riddled with worry as he stood outside the bedroom door. You hadn’t left the room since you’d been home from the hospital after delivering your daughter, and what scared Changbin even more was the fact that you hadn’t even held her. As soon as you walked through the front door, you had grabbed Chonsas urn from the mantle and gone straight into your bedroom, refusing to leave for anyone or anything. It had been 2 days since then and Changbin was beginning to panic. “Ssoni needs you… I need you… We need you… Y/N, please…”

Something loud thudded against the bedroom door, causing Changbin to jump back as he held Ssoni closer to his chest. “Leave me alone, Changbin! You finally got your baby, let me just stay in here with mine!” You screamed, and there wasn’t more than a second of silence before your sobs were heard through the door.

This was expected, the doctors had all talked to you and Changbin about the possibility of depression after having another baby, especially considering what had happened the first time. The only thing is that Changbin hadn’t realized just how bad it could get. “Fine… If that’s what you want to do, fine. Just… please, eat something.” Begging hadn’t worked yesterday or the day before though, so he knew that begging today wouldn’t work either, but it was worth a shot.

There was no response, only the continued sound of your crying, and Changbin felt absolutely helpless. You didn’t want to be near him, you didn’t want to be near the baby. He had called the guys to ask them what to do, he had called the doctors to see if there was anything he could do. All of them said to just give you a little bit of time right now, and if you weren’t starting to get better in a week that he should take you somewhere to get help, but that in itself felt wrong. Of course you’d be upset, and he knew that you had a lot of questions, questions that nobody had an answer to. He had those questions too, but right now, he had to push all of his feelings aside so that he could be there for Ssoni, so he could try to be there for you.

Each hour that passed had Changbin panicking more and more, and it only got worse once you went silent. He’d press his ear against the door, straining to hear the sound of your fast paced breaths that would indicate that you were sleeping. God, how he missed sleeping beside you, holding you close against his chest, your hair tickling his nose whenever you’d move the slightest bit. He missed the smell of your shampoo, the way you’d steal all the blankets on the coldest mornings, the way you smacked your lips whenever you rolled over. He missed being able to just be with you, but it seemed like the sight of him and the sight of Ssoni only irritated you more.

“Postpartum depression. It’s not rare, it’s actually quite common. In her case, we have to remember that Y/N has gone through more than what most mothers have gone through. She’s lost a child, and her emotions are very clearly still strongly affecting her. Now, with her hormones out of balance after just having another daughter, her emotions are only going to be stronger. I’m sure that it doesn’t make matters better considering your daughter was born only a day after the loss of your first daughter. She might have mood swings, she might sleep more or less, she might not want to even interact with the new baby. There’s a lot of symptoms that come along with PPD, but they should subside within a week or two, and if they don’t, we can set her up with a therapist, or prescribe her some sort of hormonal medication to balance out the hormones. For now, I suggest just looking out for her, taking care of her in a way that won’t upset her. We don’t want to overwhelm her, and we surely don’t want to force her to do anything. Just give her time and space, and I’m sure that she’ll be fine.”

Changbin hated the fact that you were suffering silently, the fact that he couldn’t do anything this time because you didn’t want his help. It was the waiting game, and he tried to keep the doctors updated daily, hoping that they’d give him something different that he could try to do to get you out of the room, but they’d just say the same exact thing each time. How much longer was he going to have to have to wait? How much longer was too long? His heart was breaking. He finally had the family that he felt was stolen from him 3 years ago, and now you didn’t want any part of it. Was he never meant to be truly happy?

///

“Momma! Dadda!!” Ssoni called from her bedroom, her shrieking voice jolting you from your slumber. You sat straight up in your bed, shaking Changbin from his even deeper sleep before kicking the blankets from off your legs and getting out of bed. “Momma!!!” Ssoni called again, and this time Changbin was jumping up out of the bed, his eyes not even open as he ran to the door and out into the hallway with you following close behind.

“What’s the matter, honeybear?” Changbin groggily asked, the bright lights that had been turned on in her room were practically blinding after stepping out of the darkness of your own bedroom. Your daughter, who had been standing in the middle of the room, clinging tightly onto her stuffed bear, ran over to Changbin and lifted her arms, demanding to be picked up. “Did you have a bad dream?” He questioned, brushing his fingers through your daughter's curly hair.

“Nuh uh!” Your daughter's head shook quickly before she pointed into the corner of her room. “Dere’s a girl! She over dere!” Panic set in almost immediately, as it would with any parent, especially the parent of a famous child that was known around the world. Her tiny finger continued to point into the corner, and what was worse was the fact that she was basically pointing at her closet. It was big enough for anyone to hide in, so you quickly grabbed your daughter out of Changbins arms and went back into your own bedroom.

Changbin returned quickly, and the panic that was once written across his features was gone now, replaced only with confusion as he looked between you and his daughter that laid underneath the blankets in the middle of the middle. “Honeybear…” Changbin murmured, climbing into the bed beside her and brushing her hair away from her face. “Are you sure you weren’t just having a bad dream? There’s no one there…”

Ssoni sighed loudly, her tiny bottom lip booting out as her face scrunched up. “Yes! Dere was a girl! She say… She want to see me! She say she love me!” You and Changbin looked at each other with narrowed eyes as you both listened to your daughter rant. “She say… She my big sister… Her name… Chonsa? Yeah! Chonsa!” Ssoni nodded her head just to ascertain that the name she said was correct, but it felt like the air had been knocked from your chest as you listened to your 5 and a half year old daughter say the name.

Neither you, nor Changbin had ever told her about her sister, she was far too young to understand. The two of you never even brought up your daughter around Ssoni, not wanting to answer any questions that she might have because you both knew the topic wasn’t one that she would grasp. “Did she… Did she say anything else, honeybear?” You asked, trying not to get choked up already, and you could see in the low light of the moon cascading across the room the glistening of Changbins eyes.

“She say you and dadda don’t have be sad no more… Cause she love you too… And she say… She say it not you fault…” Ssoni said it so lightly, as if recounting a simple conversation with a friend. She didn’t know that what she was saying had you swallowing back tears and clenching your teeth to hold back the sobs that were building in your throat. “She say dat she hear dadda talk to her evy night… And dat she miss you too… And she say dat she here all time… And dat she keep me safe… And she send me for you to not be sad no more…” Ssoni shrugged before nesling deeper into the pillows between you and Changbin, her childlike mind oblivious to the way you and Changbin were both silently crying. “I sleepy now… I go sleep here.” She muttered, pulling the blankets up higher around her body.

It was hard to fall asleep, almost impossible, so you and Changbin both laid quietly beside your daughter until you were sure she was fully asleep before slipping out of the bedroom and going to the living room. “She wouldn’t know that… She wouldn’t know any of that… Bin… How does she know that?” You gasped out, falling against Changbins shoulder and he immediately held you close, his body trembling with shaky breaths.

“I don’t know… But… She knows… She… She knows a lot… And I think maybe it’s time to tell her about her sister… Just a little bit. It’s clear that… Chonsa visits her…” You sighed softly. This type of thing wasn’t something that you believed in, not because it didn’t seem true, it’s just that you slept easier thinking that it was fake. Now, with everything that happened tonight, everything that Ssoni had said, you couldn’t not believe it. “She’s still here with us… She’ll always be here with us… And it’s nice to know that Ssoni was sent to us by our little angel… She doesn’t want us to be sad… And she knows we love her… She knows…”

You nodded your head along with his words, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It felt bittersweet, it felt like you had just finished an entire story, one that had more heartbreak, more sorrow than you could ever imagine. You were finally picking up the next book in the series, and this one was lighter, happier. There was no more sadness, there were no more tears to be shed as you flipped through the pages of life. You had both your little girls with you, one was an angel, and the other was sent by that angel so that you wouldn’t have to feel sadness, so you wouldn’t have to feel that loss. You were happy, Changbin was happy, and you both felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The weight of loss, grief, guilt… It had all been washed away. You had each other, and you had been given back the chance to be parents to your beautiful little girl once more.

A/N : Putting this at the end so I don't spoil the ending! I know that the whole ending is strange, and I know a lot of people don't believe in stuff like that. It's loosely based off of a personal experience though from when my own mom went through something like this with my baby brother who passed away, and my other younger brother who was about 5 at the time would talk to my baby brother and play with him. So it wasn't just some "gotta tie things together" ending. I was planning on it ending like that from the beginning. They needed closure.

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dairy-farmer · 4 months

Note

Thinking about the 'Damian actually killed Tim when he cut his line' ask and having thoughts™. I'm a huge sap, so nobody actually dies and there's even the possibility of a future happy ending:

Damian did the whole 'trying to kill / maim Tim' thing, but a few years have passed since then and Damian has actually come respect and love (maybe even kind of desire? 👀👀👀) Tim alongside the rest of the family, and consider his past actions as water under the bridge. Tim never brings it up, so Damian assumes he feels the same way.

But then! The family, or at least Tim and Damian in a team up, get into a very dangerous and sticky situation; I haven't thought about specifics because they are not important. What is important is that in order to escape, Tim is going to have to trust Damian: maybe it's a 'jump and I'll catch you' because Tim's grapple is missing or broken situation, or maybe a 'I'm bluffing the enemy about hurting you, so you need to stay completely still so I don't accidentally hurt you for real' type thing or maybe Tim is hurt and will make the injury worse if he tries to move by himself, so Damian has to leave to bring back help and tells him not to move until he comes back for him.

Whatever the specifics, Damian expects Tim to follow his lead / do what he tells him... But Tim doesn't and gets seriously hurt: instead of trusting Damian to catch him he wastes time trying to find another way down/out, or he moves to dodge Damian's blow and accidentally ends up where Damian was fainting towards, or made his injuries worse by trying to get out by himself instead of waiting for Damian to come back. After Tim has been treated and is out of danger and recovering in the Bat Cave, Damian demands to know why Tim didn't do what Damian told him to!

"Don't you trust me?!" Damian demands. Tim's expression turns incredulous as he states, "No, of course not."

Damian, and the rest of the family are stunned silent. Dick and Bruce recover the fastest, and Dick demands to know what Tim means; how can he not trust Damian?! They've gone on hundreds of missions together! Worked together for years now! Were family!

Tim glares at Dick. "Have you forgotten how many times he's tried to kill me?" Starts listing off different things Damien had done when he first joined the family: pushed him off a dinosaur, cut his grappling line, lied and attacked (and maybe tried to poison?) Tim multiple times.

Tim angrily tells them all he's not an idiot or a fool, and refused to be lulled into a false sense of security. Damian hasn't attacked him in over 2 years? Tim hasn't given him the chance. Even when he has accepted food or drink from Damian, he's never actually consumed it unless he saw Damian, Bruce, or Dick eat or drink from the same source. Damian passed on intel or messages from a family member or friend? Tim always took the time to double and triple check the information and call the family or friend himself to confirm.

Damian is just standing there -still somewhat stunned- listening to Tim explain how he's seen the last couple years, which are completely different from how Damian and the rest of the family had seen them. And Damian is struck by the realization that even though Tim had never trusted him, Damian had trusted him hundreds of times and similar situations... And Tim had always come through for him.

Damian feeling an incredible number of different feelings. Guilt over his past actions, horror at the realization that Tim could have died just because Damian had proven himself to be untrustworthy in the past and never actually did anything to prove that he changed/changed his views on Tim, and some other emotion he can't quite name (Awe? Humility? Love???). Tim had never stopped distrusting Damian, but had still never lashed out or abandoned Damian: there were at least five incidents in the last 3 months where Damian could have possibly died if Tim hadn't intervened, which Tim did even though he still expected Damian to stab him in the back.

Just! Damian devastated at having an unintentional hand in Tim's injury and realizing how badly he fumbled their relationship. But also? Maybe falling a bit (more?👀) in love with Tim at the realization of just how honorable and good Tim is -how else would you describe someone going out of their way to help people they fully expected to hurt them?

I would expect Damian to explain how he no longer wants Tim hurt -hasn't since maybe 6-9 months after he first joined the family- and beg for his forgiveness. The fact that Damian does this without reservation and in front of the rest of the family is actually a huge point in his favor of Tim actually, maaaaybe, being willing to believe him: Damian is still an incredibly proud person and would not prostrate himself and beg forgiveness lightly (especially not in front of an audience).

Tim and Damian slowly start to actually get on the same page, talk about their feelings (ugh 🤢), and start to get closer. Eventually, after months and months, Damian confesses his feelings for Tim. Tim is hesitant: yes, he's finally decided that Damian is being honest and is willing to trust him in general. But starting a romantic relationship is very different. Maybe Damian suggests an old fashioned courtship: something structured and chaperoned, at least at the beginning, until Tim can decide definitively whether he wants to date or be together with Damian.

Something something dating falling in love something something. Tim turning to Damian one normal, uneventful, random day and looking deeply and searchingly into his eyes, before saying "I trust you."

damian absolutely being shaken at the realization that not only had tim never trusted him, he'd never forgiven him for anything that had happened between them. that he'd been willing to take the risk, and possibly die rather than trust damian because he believed that trusting damian would mean he would certainly die 🥺🥺🥺

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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nicksbestie · 5 months

Text

Next Stop - C. Sturniolo

three times chris reminds you that your stop is next, + the time he gets off with you

Summary : You get distracted easily, and almost miss your stop going home from work. Luckily, there's someone who reminds you often.

Warnings : none <3

Word Count : 2268

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (eventually romantic)

A/N : i am so excited to write this!

one

You had a long day at work.

That’s why it happened, that’s why you fell asleep on the bus. You didn’t fall asleep on the bus and nearly missed your stop because you were up nearly all night finishing work before its deadline arrived because you have a terrible habit of procrastinating things until the last minute. You were just tired, took the first seat you could find, and in the midst of the happiness of being on the way home, and the relaxation of being able to sit down and not have to focus on any work, you fell asleep. That’s exactly what happened.

You had nearly been late leaving work, something you never were, because the second that you could get out of that hellhole you were gone. It was incredibly rare that you didn’t leave on time, because you worked so hard during the day to make sure that you never had anything that would keep you working overtime. And the longer you were at work, the more chance you had to miss your bus home, and you did not want to make that long, lonely, and honestly, quite scary, walk back to your apartment. You’d done that before, and it was not a night that you cared to remember or relive.

You’d gotten an email about twenty minutes before your shift ended, detailing another document that you needed to complete before you left that day. Your manager was a pain in the ass, as if he got paid for that instead of his job. If he did, he’d probably be rich and could quit. You’d glanced over the document, knowing that you could complete it before you got off, and you did, but you dropped an entire file of papers right as you were leaving. You had to stop and pick them all up to put them in your work bag, and that caused you to miss the elevator down to the first floor. So that caused you to have to wait for the next one, and then it was raining as you got out of the building.

You got to the bus stop with plenty of time before the bus got there, and you got on as quickly as possible, tired of being in the rain. You were simply exhausted in general, and as soon as you sat down in a seat, you set your work bag down in your lap, pulling your headphones out and plugging them in, staring out of the window as you played some music through them. You watched all the other vehicles go by, all of them beginning to blur into one long stream of darkness. You were seated close to the front of the bus, and you were grateful for that, so when your stop came, you could quickly get off. You saw a reflection in the window, across the aisle. It was of a boy, around your age, maybe a year or two older. You didn’t think much more of it, simply enjoying getting to relax, but you relaxed too much.

You jolted awake to see the boy from the reflection standing over you, gently shaking your shoulder. He had an apologetic look on his face, and backed up as soon as he noticed you were awake.

“Sorry, but your stop is next. I didn’t want you to miss it.”

Looking up, you saw that the bus screen clearly displayed your stop next, and without even bothering to think about how this boy had known that, you got up, quietly thanking him, and picking up your stuff so that you could get off of the bus.

two

You’d fallen asleep. You couldn’t believe you’d fallen asleep, at your desk no less. Luckily, you had completed all of your work by that point, but you had dozed off right after. You’d been incredibly tired lately, and you really had no excuse for it. You’d been sleeping a lot, but clearly not getting enough good rest. You just wanted to close your eyes for a couple moments, and somehow you’d ended up falling asleep, and only woken up because the last person in the office had left, and slammed the door way too loudly. Realizing the time, you quickly rushed out of there, luckily right on time today. You managed to get on the bus just as it was about to leave, breathing out a sigh of relief as you threw yourself down into a seat, work bag on the seat next to you.

“Nearly missed it.”

You turned around at the voice, noticing the same boy who had woken you up last week sitting two rows behind, and one aisle over. You smiled a little bit, not being able to find it in you to be annoyed at his comment, given that he had a bright smile on his own face.

“Yeah, almost.”

“Glad you didn’t. Would’ve been a long walk.”

You didn’t know why you were so open to chatting with this complete stranger, but you figured you owed him the politeness. After you had entered the conversation, you found that you were actually enjoying it. You talked for the whole bus ride. You found out the guy’s name was Chris, and that he had three brothers, two of them being his triplet brothers. He worked at a restaurant that was actually quite close to your work, which explained why he was always on the bus when you were. He got on one stop before you, and got off one stop after you. He’d seen you on the bus a lot, and that was how he knew when your stop was.

He actually seemed to be a very nice guy, and the conversation flourished. You shared what you both did for work, a lot about your family and friends, and it really was like you had known each other for ages. You didn’t notice how quickly the bus ride went by until he was pointing towards the bus screen, where the stop before yours was flashing on the lights.

“As lovely as it is talking to you, you have to get off of the bus soon.”

You sighed, smiling, a part of you disappointed in having to leave.

“So I do. I loved talking to you too! I assume I’ll see you on the bus again at some point?”

He returned your smile, handing you your work bag.

“I’m sure you will. Have a safe walk home, okay?”

“I’ll do my best. You too!”

You discovered random photos of Chris in your camera roll when you got home, and they made you laugh. He must have taken a bunch of them while you were putting your headphones back in your work bag. Unbeknownst to him, you favorited them all.

three

You were blaming your tiredness on a bad week. That’s all it was. That had to be all it was because being this tired was completely out of control for you, but you couldn’t deny how the day at work made you want to quit and run away forever. If money weren’t a problem, you would do it.

You got out of there on time today. You weren’t running early, and you weren’t running late either. You left there at five in the evening, on the dot, and you were ready for the day to be done. You were so exhausted that you didn’t feel that much at all, nothing except for the lack of energy in your veins.

Stepping on the bus, you could barely even muster a smile at Chris, sitting in his normal seat. As he saw you, he smiled, but it immediately faded when he saw your face. You looked drained, sad, even, and he wasted no time in getting up to sit next to you, in your usual seat. He looked at you with sadness in his eyes, reflecting your own.

“What’s going on?”

You felt pitiful in your response, and you had no idea why you were even opening up to him. You’d only talked to him once before, but somehow, you felt like you trusted him wholeheartedly already. You felt comfortable speaking to him, even though it was through shared whispers on a semi-crowded bus.

“I’m just so tired.”

He nodded understandingly, and in his head, he was fighting the urge to just hug you, but he knew a lot of people didn’t like to be touched outright without being asked. So, he took a chance, and asked.

“Would a hug help?”

You sighed, nodding.

“A hug would be great.”

You let him wrap an arm around you, and he let you rest your head on his shoulder. His hug was just as comforting as he looked. You couldn’t deny the fact that you felt insanely comfortable with him, and you were so tired that you didn’t have the energy to even think about why that may be. You just let it happen, and so did he. Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the exact same thing.

He noticed how you didn’t offer up any more information, and he also noticed how your breathing evened out, and your arm around his back relaxed a little bit. Looking down, he noticed that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He found it nothing but cute. There was no part of him that could deny the fact that he found you attractive, and he had since the first time he saw you on the bus. He couldn’t believe that he had you asleep on his shoulder, so wholly trusting of him despite barely knowing him, but he had no intentions to disturb you.

He sat there, scrolling on his phone, letting you rest on his shoulder as he waited for the stop before yours to pop up on the screen. He silently begged for the bus to go slower, for the bus to hit every red light possible, for the speed limits to drop, because he wanted to soak in every minute possible that he was getting to spend with you.

Unfortunately, the stop before yours popped up too early for his liking, which meant that it was time to wake you up. As he slowly adjusted you, you woke up, having never been the deepest sleeper, and your face flushed red as you realized that you had fallen asleep on him. You opened your mouth to speak and he cut you off, that same smile back on his face.

“I get the feeling that you’re about to apologize. You don’t have to. Your stop is next, don’t want you to miss it.”

You sighed, getting up, and already missing the comforting feeling of resting against him.

“Thank you. I’ll see you again?”

“Can’t avoid me for long. Walk safe, okay?”

“I will.”

You smiled, waving at him as you got off of the bus, ignoring the happy feeling that went through you when he gave you a huge smile back.

+ one

You got on the bus and were shocked to not see Chris sitting in his normal spot on the bus, and you couldn’t deny that you were slightly sad about it. However, your spirits rose once more when you saw that he was getting on one stop after you. He noticed you, and immediately sat down next to you.

“Thank god you’re here.”

You smiled at his comment.

“Missed me that much?”

“Yes. I did, actually.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face. You talked like you did on the second bus ride you noticed him on, and it felt like a conversation that lasted forever and also lasted just two seconds at the same time. Chris couldn’t deny that he was undeniably attracted to you. You were pretty, funny, and he just loved being in your presence, even though he didn’t have much time with you so far. He really hoped that would change soon, and as the bus approached your spot, he interrupted your conversation.

“This is normally when I tell you to walk home safely, isn’t it?”

You smiled, a thing you did a lot around Chris.

“It is. I suppose you should be saying it?”

“I was actually hoping I could say something different today.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on your face, deciding to humor him.

“Oh? And what could that be?”

“I was hoping I could get to walk you home today.”

You had a look of surprise on your face, but not one that displayed that his suggestion was unappealing.

“Are you asking me to let you come back home with me?”

You had a joking tone to your voice, but you were halfway serious about it. You weren’t opposed, though. Chris was incredibly sweet and attractive, and a night with him sounded like fun, even if it was just a night.

“Not necessarily. I could walk you back to my place, but you’d be subjected to meeting the other people who live there and have the same face as me.”

You laughed, standing up, and grabbing your things.

“You can walk me home. And come in, if you’d like to.”

“I would love to.”

You couldn’t deny that things had moved incredibly quickly between the two of you, but years down the line, when you got to tell the story of the way he held your hand the entire way home, made eating microwave food on the couch seem romantic, and even managed to steal a few kisses from you before the night ended, the speed of it didn’t seem to matter.

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 19 days

Note

sorry for being super late to the zhuge liang time-loop party but image we're several iterations in and our boy kongming is sitting in his little mountain hut waiting for liu bei to show up like he always does but this time sun zhou yu turns up instead

oh ho this is a hilarious concept! this is the enemies to enemies timeline we all need. i think it would make more sense for lu su and zhou yu to turn up, because of the simple reason that sun quan is a duke at this point and can't leave the palace for such an extended period of time vs liu bei the one-horse warlord.

ok, the timeline needs to be super fucked up at this stage in order to bring these two togather, because in the alpha timeline even though kongming was fairly well known as a genius hermit, he hasn't done anything so extraordinary at this stage that it warrents a personal visit from the two most powerful people in the southland.

i think we can do this by making him kinda new to the whole timeloop thing, and he accidentally/on purpose reveals some future events in order to get liu bei to find him faster, and it ends up backfiring.

picture this: kongming is sitting in his thatched hut, tears in his eyes, heart all a-flutter, waiting for his beloved leige lord to turn up, and the servant is like "master, there's three important men at the door" (idk who the third guy should be but it's a nice round number. maybe huang gai?) kongming: !!!! "ok, I will play some music to set the mood. i was rude last time by falling asleep and i want to make a good impression."

not even 3 bars in and a VERY familiar voice calls out "you're flat."

kongming is so fucking outraged that for a second he forgets to be surprised because that was ONE HALF-STEP DOWN, ASSHOLE!!!! YOU trying getting reincarnated and deincarnated several times over and then meet your soulmate (he called liu bei that irl, look it up) and see how steady your hands are, asshole!!! god, this is just like wei wuxian from my danmeis...

then it dawns on him that none of the peach garden trio have musical literacy. he runs outside, takes one look at the three men in his courtyard and is like "well, this timeline is a wash. aight im gonna go out back and bash my head in. on second thought, i should do it here and freak zhou yu out. suicidal existential despair is no excuse not to troll zhou yu."

but the afformentioned takes this opportunity to stroll into kongming's bedroom, and starts tuning his qin (not a euphamism) without permission. kong ming says passive-agressively, "i see you're quite adept at tightening another man's strings" (not a euphamism), zhou yu replies "a neglected instrument is like a neglected soul" (not a euphamism), "are you offering to duet?" says kongming through gritted teeth to which zhou yu replies "oh don't worry, i can see you're out of practise so i'll be gentle and take it slow," (not a--) and it's at this point lu su grabs huang gai by the elbow and goes "wow, what a nice bamboo grove! the two of us are going for a walk! a nice LONG walk FAR AWAY in the BAMBOO GROVE for THIRTY TO FORTY MINUTES! see you in THIRTY TO FORTY MINUTES!"

huang gai: i literally spent 30 years in the army you don't need all these euphamisms.

lu su: LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SCENIC RUSTLING OF THE BAMBOO!

*insert that scene from Flirting Scholar where zhou yu and kongming start fighting, they roll under a table, there is a brief skirmish, and they come out with their clothes swaped. they are playing doubles on a single qin the entire time.*

#asks #san guo #zhuge timeloop

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perfectprofessorloverapricot · 7 months

Text

•| A not so stolen youth |•

Stranger things / chapter 3

Summary: Everything in life seemed limited to walls of whites and rainbows. Caged within the confines of the lab. But an accident that involved a group of teenagers and the upside down world finally let him free. In a funny turn of events he found himself hiding in a step sibling's shed. A redhead that loves video games and a blond that spends his time making sure to keep his good looks.

Character: Male child OC

Warnings: Possible to descriptive scenes, child abuse, use of drugs and bad language.

A/N: I ask you to take into account that I lack experience writing in English and there'll be some grammatical mistakes because my native language is Spanish.

Prev part - Masterlist - Next part

It was early in the morning, every kid was either at school or at home because they’re sick. All except for one.

Thirteen walked with tranquility through the groups of trees scattered all over the town. He found that the only onces that walked there were a few really young kids, other than that, the coast is completely clear.

But what is not completely clear is his mind. The day before he saw something that brought back awful memories. He found out, his father is not the only man like that in the world and he isn’t the only one like him out there. He would like to say that he doesn’t understand Billy completely, but he does.

The teenage has moments of calmness when he usually keeps to himself or even glances at him as if inspecting his soul, and moments of complete chaos when he is hostile against anything and anyone near him.

Billy was angry at his father, that much was evident, but he couldn’t do a thing because he knew it was useless. That was a feeling he could relate a little bit to well.

It happened too often to him in the lab. Loosing his papa’s respect brought a lot of punishment with it and answering it only left him in pain. His only solution was to hold back and resist. But that led to future explosions where he sent his guards flying or breaking an entire room with a scream.

He was labeled as dangerous and forced to stay isolated.

He was thinking of ways to help make him feel better but nothing came to mind other than a present.

But what?

Or maybe, some company? That’s what he wanted when he was in the lab. Maybe that’s what Billy needs at home.

Before he could think about other options, his senses detected something. He heard a pair of soft footsteps quite some distance further in front of him but instead of dreading to find the person a familiar feeling made itself present in the back of his mind. He waited.

As silent as ever, he walked cautiously towards the sound.

Both kids that found themselves in front of one another gasped in surprise. They know each other.

The curly haired girl smiled at the boy receiving a smile in return.

“Eleven.” Whispered the boy, walking closer to her.

“Thirteen.” Once close enough they engulfed each other in a big hug, giggling, happy to realize they both basically survived.

The kids pulled away, still connected by their arms, smiling like no other day.

They had so much to talk about.

“-and then, she taught how to skateboard.” Commented the boy with glee.

They have been talking for about an hour about what’s happened the last year after escaping the lab and getting in contact with the upside down. So far, everything’s been peaceful.

He was happy to know that she was also taken care off by a good guy, even though she puts a kind of weird expression when she mentions him, she stills seems to trust him a lot too.

“But…” he made a pause and sunk in the log they were both seating at the reminder of what happened a few hours ago. “Her papa…” he turned his eyes from his joined hands to the attentive look of eleven. “He is like our papa.”

Eleven gasped softly at the revelation.

“She and Billy hide me.” His lips curved a little at the sides. He always gets a warm and fluffy feeling in his chest at the reminder of people that care about his safety. “She gave me clothes.” He gripped the fabric of the blue hoodie in his chest. The same that keeps his body heat from escaping. “And a name. Magnus.”

Eleven gave him a close-lipped smile. They don’t know each other as well as she would like too because they were separated in the lab. They met only after the rest of the kids disappeared and their father needed more power to connect with the unknown world. But couldn’t interact that much in a friendly way under the scrutinizing eyes of their handlers. He always wore a frown accompanied with tired eyes. So she is happy to see him finally smile, even in the slightest.

“And you?” He asked, giving her the opportunity to express something that might be bothering her.

“Hopper is good.” She nodded. “But he lies.” The kid raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He says, one day I’ll leave to see my friends but that never happens. He promised soon, but soon never comes.”

Thirteen lowered his head in sadness. He knows that feeling, or he knew, before living with his only friend.

“He says it’s dangerous, that it’s for my protection.” The kid wrapped an arm around her in a side hug to comfort her.

In moments like that he wished he was more like magneto and fight for their freedom.

But he couldn’t, he was just a kid after all. All he could do was make her aware that she’s not alone.

A certain blonde haired teenage boy was currently tightening a screw on the engine of his blue baby Camaro.

He was finishing changing the air filter. After what happened the day before with his father he has been looking for ways to release some pent-up pressure. He already said goodbye to his last hook up an hour ago, he doesn’t know where Max is because she was late and he left her to skate home alone and he already worked out in the living room but nothing seemed to make his anger decrease.

Billy huffed once he was finished, cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his dirtied hand. It wasn’t enough but that’ll have to do.

“Jesus.” Exclaimed the blond once he turned around and found the boy behind him, startling him. Weirdly attentive to what he was doing. “What the hell are you doing there? Are you a creep?” He asked with annoyance. He had almost sent the tool in his hand flying.

The kid just kept looking at him and the car with his big blue eyes and shrugged. He didn’t know what ‘creep’ means.

Billy raised a brow at the look of wonder in the kids face. He has seen it a few times before, directed to him, like trying to figure him out, which makes him edgy, but this time it was directed more to his car. “Never seen a car before?” He asked mockingly.

Unknown to him, the first time the boy saw a car was when he escaped from the lab. Ever since that day, the younger one has been greatly interested in the weird machines that roll faster than any adult he has ever seen runs.

Billy furrowed his brows when the only answer he got was the kid leaning his head to the side, still looking at the car.

Was he really that stupid? No, he couldn’t be. They would have already found him if that was the case, but he would have to live under a rock to not know what a car is.

“What, cat got your tongue, brat?” Thirteen shook his head and stick his tongue out to demostrarte it was still there making Billy huffed and turned to his car.

What a weird kid.

He grabbed the car’s hood and slam it shut to make sure it was closed.

“Cool.” Alluded the boy walking closer to the drivers side.

“What?” Thirteen glanced at Billy for a moment before returning to the inside of the vehicle repeating his word.

“Cool.” He is not completely sure if his using correctly the word Max taught him. ‘A word to describe something that’s better than amazing.’ Is what she said, and that is exactly what he thinks about the car.

“Huh, at least you have taste.” Said Billy as he wiped his hands in a towel he had hanging from his short’s waistband. Until he got an idea. Something that would help him destress and he used to do it a lot in California. “Hey brat.”

Thirteen turned towards Billy, not knowing what ‘brat’ means but understanding he wanted his attention. He blinked a few times, watching the weird look in the teenager’s eyes. He had an idea.

Billy would never in his life know what led him to do what he did, but the next thing he knows, he is driving top speed in one of the many lonely roads in the outer sides of Hawkins with the kid in the copilot seat. He loves to use the backroads.

He thought the kid would be scared shitless, however, the kid was grasping the seatbelt like his life depends on it (because it does) with the biggest smile Billy has ever seen.

But he doesn’t care that the kid didn’t get scared he was too concentrated in the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the speed to actually pay attention. He didn’t even light the cigarette between his lips because it wasn’t needed.

Billy whooped in ecstasy and bobbed along the surprisingly not so loud music. It was more important the roar of the engine than the beat coming from the stereo.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Cheered Billy with his always sharp smile.

But that wasn’t the best part, he was waiting for the right moment to put his car modifications to the test. In a way he couldn’t in the crowded city of California.

His smile widened when he saw what he was looking for. A wide straight doble lane road.

It’s show time.

He stepped on the break and pulled the hand brake simultaneously, then turned the wheel completely to one side in a second. The car instantly followed the action, turning with so much force skidding the tires in the street. Making a U turn by drifting.

Billy laughed loudly while the kid beside him screamed for his life. The wheels scraped the floor until the vehicle came to a stop in the other side of the road. Facing the opposite direction.

Not waiting for anything, he pushed the hand break back down and step on the gas. The wheels screeched against the ground, leaving marks, before moving at full speed back to the house.

At the speed he was driving it only took him 10 minutes to arrive.

He got out of the car after killing the engine and lit the cigarette between his lips, taking a drag as if it was pure oxygen he was inhaling. Finally he felt a little bit better.

So lost in his relief he didn’t pay attention to the passenger in his car. He only turned his head back when he heard a thud. He found the passenger seat empty and the door opened. He huffed thinking the kid just left without closing the door but he stop when he went around the car and found the kid basically face planted in the dirt while giggling.

Billy scoffed a laugh almost sending the cigarette in mouth flying. He was positive the kid was high with adrenaline. He saw the kid try to stand up in his jelly legs only to fall on his side.

“What the hell?” Billy didn’t need to turn around to know who that was. He merely rolled his eyes when the redhead rushed by him to get to the kid. “What did you do to him?” She asked when the kid tried to stand up again with her help but stumbled to the side like he was drunk. She got even more confused when she heard him giggle.

“I fixed your damn brat.” He grumbled taking a drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and returning to the house. He wanted to take a shower.

Max looked between the retreating back of her step brother and the kid seating in the dirt with a big smile in his face.

Could it be possible that Billy changed his mind?

No, that is not something Billy could ever do.

But either way, she was relieved that he was at least tolerating the kid’s presence.

If Max thought they had made a progress with Billy after the ride he had with Magnus. She was wrong.

The very next day his anger returned when he saw her talking to Lucas. There was no problem with that, she didn’t plan to be part of their club of hypocrites anyway.

Well, that was her plan, until the very next day she wanted to go to the arcade to play dig dug and forget everything only to be tricked in to the breakroom by Lucas himself. They argued about the veracity of the fanciful story Lucas told her ensuring that it was the truth.

Leaving the arcade Billy saw him at the door. At first he acted eerily calm while accusing her of disobeying and lying. But a silent threat was made evident later in the afternoon when Billy broke her skateboard when reversing in his car.

It was his way of telling her he could ‘accidentally’ break something without a problem.

He became a ticking time bomb and she didn’t want to be there to see it explode because she would be the collateral damage, and possibly with her, Magnus too. Even though he has mostly ignored the kid in the last days, it was obvious the anger he was holding in.

Taking every posible outcome Max took a decision. She’ll go back to Cali to her father and she’ll take Magnus with her.

The kid already had a new name, and no one will be looking for a kid in another city, miles away from were he was.

That’s how she found herself in this position. Fidgeting with her fingers inside her hoodie pockets, feeling the money between her fingers and watching attentively at Magnus sitting in her bed and messing with her Walkman.

She got the money by telling her mother that she wanted to buy a new shirt but she wanted the money to buy it herself and avoid any kind of harsh comments from Neil if she went with them to the mall in the neighboring town. Her mother, illusioned with the possibility of her daughter buying something more feminine, gladly gave her double the money she needed to buy the shirt. She thanked the heavens her mother did because she forgot the amount of money it’ll cost to buy two bus tickets.

She forgot a slight detail. The distance between her and her father was much more now that she is in Hawkins than when she was in Cali, and the tickets would be more expensive.

She already prepared two bags with things for her and Magnus. In that precise moment she has the perfect opportunity to leave with him. Her parents aren’t home and they’ll come back until night and Billy was too busy working on his muscles for his next hook up of the night to notice.

Gaining some courage Max sat next to the kid in her bed. She took a breath and spoke. “Mag-“

She was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, someone calling at the door.

The kid raised his head, looking between Max and the bedroom’s closed door. He was to concentrated on the Walkman that he didn’t pay attention to the footsteps at the front door. It’s not like Billy’s blasting music trough the house helped at all.

He was already used to the volume of the music, but hearing it with the door open still hurt his head. At least the wood helps to drown out the sound. But he was still relieved that it’s not as loud as the alarms in the lab. That was a real headache.

He jumped from the bed when doorbell sounded again. He needed to hide. He turned to the window but stopped, if the person in the door somehow comes to the backside of the house he’ll be screwed. He turned to the bed. He doesn’t fit under it. As his last and only option, the kid threw himself inside the closet and closed the door, always leaving a crack to let the light come inside.

Max pressed her lips together trying to suppress a laugh. For a moment he looked like a headless chicken.

Her poorly covered smile disappeared when she heard her stepbrother yell at the next ring. “Max, are you getting that or what?”

Exasperated with him she yelled her answered “Okay.” She opened stood up stomping her way out of the room, closing the door behind her

“I swear to God Max.” Fumed the blond getting an eye roll and a glare from his sister when she walked by him. He just proceeded to lift the weights again.

From the closet, Magnus could slightly hear the door opening and closing over the music, along with Max’s voice from the other side of the door, indicating that now she was outside with whoever was at the door. He couldn’t tell what they were talking about because the music muffled their voices.

He waited for a moment, relieved that Max at least sounded like she knew the person outside. He was also aware that it wasn’t Neil, he could have heard his truck parking or his gruff voice booming in the house.

He waited a little while until she finally came back, closing the door behind her. She turned to Magnus watching the window in wariness. She knew why. Lucas was outside of the window. “Magnus.” She called for his attention.

He turned to her, blinking a few times.

“I… ammm.” She fidget in her place looking for the words to say. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, she just made up her mind and decided she’ll find out what’s really happening with Lucas and his group because deep down she still wishes to have friends. “I’ll live with the stalker for a few hours. He says he has proof or something.”

“Where?” Came the silent question from the kid. Max almost didn’t hear it with Billy’s blasting music coming through the door.

“To the old junkyard.” Magnus lifted a brown and tilted his head slightly to the side. There was nothing in there other than trash and forgotten stuff. Nevertheless, he nodded, understanding that she is going there like really few other teenagers do. “Okay, then. I’ll be back.” She said, making the reference of the terminator movie even though Magnus didn’t catch it.

She turned to one of the two opened windows. The one closest to the bed. She stepped on the woodshed outside before stopping and turning to Magnus who was seating in her closet.

“Don’t talk with Billy if he doesn’t talk to you, by the way. He’s not in the mood and can get cranky.” Magnus smiled at the thought but nodded again.

Don’t talk to Billy. Copy.

Max said a soft goodbye before exiting when she heard the boy outside telling her to speed up. He even heard her commenting that whatever they were doing better be worth it.

Minutes later after she left, Magnus stayed in her closet. He was to engrossed in the Walkman she borrowed him.

The interest came when he returned from the store he likes to visit (steal from) with a cassette tape he found behind the garbage dump.

He put on the headphones and changed the tapes the way Max instructed him to. He pressed play instantly jumping in his place and accidentally trowing the headphones. The volume was too high. Even with the headphones in the floor he could hear it clearly.

He decreased the volume to the minimum before putting the headphones back on. The rhythm of the music was somewhat similar to the songs Billy hears when exercising but not as scandalous. He turned the Walkman over to see the tape through the see through cover. The letters in the side said ‘Call Me by blondie’ and something else he couldn’t read due to the blurred sharpie. He likes it though.

He bobbed his head to the rhythm of the music, not caring that he could hear Billy’s music through the headphones. He liked it. He found his taste in music.

Still moving his head to the beat, he stood up and walked to the window farthest from the bed. He sat on the window sill dangling his feet for a couple of second before jumping out. He looked at the full woodshed beside him before returning to the shed. Walkman in hand.

He’ll wait for Max in there.

It’s been a few hours and Max still hasn’t retuned. Magnus got bored since he doesn’t know where Max’s tapes are and he can’t read so well, so he decided to steal an apple from the Hargroves’ fridge.

Meanwhile, the blond teenager was done exercising, taking a shower and currently sharpening his look before his date (hook up). He sprayed hair product in the hair locks that fell on his forehead. Turning over the bottle of colon, he spread a few drops of the liquid in his wrist, even going as far as to spread a little bit in the southern area.

He turned and posed in front of the mirror, smiling with satisfaction at the result. Taking a drag from his previously lit cigarette he leaned forward and blew the smoke against his reflexión, winking. Yep, he was ready.

His smile was erased once he heard someone calling at the door. He noticed the rush in the knock even over his blasting music. “Billy?” He knew that voice. The reason for witch his father decided it was a good idea to move.

Kind of.

“Yeah, I’m a little bit busy in here, Susan.” He answered uninterestedly.

“Open the door. Right now.” He mentally cursed when he heard his father’s commanding voice in the other side. There was no way around this.

Genuinely curious he finally opened the door finding his father frowning face and the always present worried face of Susan shielding herself behind the man.

“What’s wrong?” He cut to the chase.

Neil wasn’t at all impressed by his son’s bluntness. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“Because I don’t know.” He answered with obviousness in his tone. They just appeared in his door insinuating something that he isn’t aware of and yet, he is not surprised. Everything that goes wrong for Neil is always somehow his fault. No matter what.

“We can’t find Maxine-” Said Susan.

“And her window’s open.” Interrupted the man like the boss that he believes himself. Billy faltered for a second, looking in another direction before regaining himself. Even he was surprised. She was in her room with the brat a few hours ago. “Where is she?” Commanded Neil.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Scoffed the Man like his son was the worst dumbass in the world, annoying the younger.

“Look, I’m sure she just, I don’t know, went to the arcade or something.” Explained Billy, still not finding the force in his voice, kicking himself for it, and panicking internally. To avoid looking at the rising anger in his father eyes he went to the closet to retrieve his previously selected leather jacket. “I’m sure she is fine.”

Nike wasn’t having any of it. “You were supposed to watch her.” He commented, like he was just making an obvious observation.

Billy could clearly hear the covered anger under those words. But he couldn’t stop himself from arguing. He was getting annoyed.

He sighed. “I know dad. I was. It’s just you guys were three hours late, and, well, I have a date.” He slipped on the jacket and turned towards the man ready to face it and just leave. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“So that’s why you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror like some faggot instead of watching your sister?”

That did it.

“I have been looking after her all week, dad. Okay?” He snapped. “She wants to run off, then that’s her problem, all right?” Neil licked the interior of his cheek, concealing his anger with an eerie façade. “She’s 13 years old. She shouldn’t need a full-time babysitter. And she is not my sister.” He turned to the radio. Stopping the music abruptly only to feel his heart drop to his stomach when Neil grabbed him by the colar of his shirt and slammed him against the shelves beside the closet.

“What did we talk about?” Asked Neil in a condescending tone. Practically whispering it in Billy’s face.

The teenager panted in anger and fear. He couldn’t answer fast enough when Neil slapped him in his left cheek, making him groan.

Susan, who once again couldn’t leave the scenario only looked the other way, feeling guilty for putting him in that situation but not doing anything fearing she could be in his position.

Neil grabbed Billy’s chin to force him to look at him before pointing with the same hand. “What. Did. We… talked about?” He made emphasis in each word.

“Respect and responsibility.”

“That is right.” Answered the man, pleased to have him under control once again. “Now, apologies to Susan.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Neil waiting for Billy while the blonde swallowed his pride and fear. “I’m sorry, Susan.” He said, never tacking his eyes from his father’s.

“It’s okay, Neil, really-“ she was interrupted when the man once again rises his voice.

“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about his behavior is okay. But he’s gonna make up for it.” He grumbled the last part. He finally stepped back to turn to look at Susan. “He’s gonna call whatever whore he’s seeing tonight and cancel their date.” He said as if it was the most normal thing to say. “And then he’s gonna go find his sister. Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is.” He turned once again to his son, already finished with the humiliation. “Isn’t that right, Billy?”

Billy looked at his father with watery eyes hiding all that hate and anger he harbors towards the man. If only he could make him pay or just leave.

“It’s that right?” Yelled Neil when his first answer was only silence.

“Yes, sir.” He said softly.

Neil sighted in annoyance, leaning closer to his son. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes. Sir.” He repeated. This time with more courage.

“Find max.” Demanded Neil with finality turning around and leaving the room, intimidating Susan enough for her to step away from his way.

Billy finally let the tears spill once the door was slammed close and hit the wall beside him. He hated him with all his being. He wanted to fight back, punch him or something, but the last time he tried to do it didn’t end well for him.

Sucking his feelings up and drying his tears, he left his room to the back of the house. He thanked the heavens he parked the car in the back really close to were he needs to go. The shed.

Faster than he thought, Billy reached the wooden door and gentler than he wanted to, he opened the door (still slamming it open). “Hey, brat.” He grumbled once inside.

Magnus raised his head looking at him with wide eyes. He knew it was Billy the one walking (stomping) towards the shed. But it still surprised him when the teenage barged in the shed and called for his attention, loudly.

Billy opened his mouth about to yell but stopped. He didn’t want to scare the kid that looked like a frightened rabbit ready to bolt and end up running around like a headless chicken looking for Max for scaring him, or for his father to find him hiding a kid in the shed and get his butt kicked.

Instead he took a breath before talking. “Where’s Max?”

The answer he got was the kid blinking in bewilderment hugging a comic to his chest.

“Ugh, for fucks…” he mumbled under his breath. “Do you know where is Max?” He repeated in a gentler voice, clearly containing his annoyance.

Magnus nodded his head slowly. Max told him to not talk to Billy if he didn’t speak to him first, she didn’t say anything about not telling him where she is.

Billy raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Okay, and?”

“The old junkyard.” He answered softly.

Damn. Now he is in trouble. He doesn’t know where that is. He slightly fidgeted in his place. “Do you know how to get there?”

Magnus nodded a slowly, still with the comic in his hands.

“Okay, then get in the car.”

Magnus instantly light up. He didn’t care that Billy used a commanding voice, he was just happy to get a raid again.

The kid quickly rushed out of the shed as silent as a mouse with an annoyed teenager following him.

Billy was already donde for the night, but unfortunately and unknown for him, it would be the longest and most eventful life of his entire life.

Hope you like the new rout I’m taking with this story.

#stranger things x male oc #stranger things x male reader #x male!reader #x male oc #child oc #child male reader #x child reader #billy hargrove #max mayfield #jim hopper #eleven hopper #stranger things #x male reader #stranger things x reader

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rojacatmisa · 5 months

Text

Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players?

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico

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I was already lying in my bed when I got Misa’s text. My pillow was wet and darken where the tears mixed with make-up had rolled down. Bed sheets were a mess after I vainly turned and turned around to set myself comfortable as I had planned to really take the time to think about what had happened. But the calm meditation I expected had never came, replaced by a crashing urge to let go, to loosen the vans I had kept closed for nearly four months now.

So instead, I cried.

I cried because I didn’t want to be hollow again. When I arrived at the Scuidad on my first day, I was still feeling broken by my previous relationship. My ex had dumped me like our three years together never existed, reaping of part of my self-estime with her. When I had looked at Misa that day, something had stirred in me for the first time in months. That something had grown since then, filling me again, meanwhile I constantly knew I was forbidden to feel that way.

So, I cried.

I also cried because I wanted Misa so much it hurt, my body longing for hers like I never longed for somebody. I had felt my heart fly when I had realized Misa was into me as well, barely believing it. It wasn’t making any sense to me to be desired by someone like her. Yet It was, yet it couldn’t happened. Yet It hurt. So much.

" Nicky where are you ? I thought you’ll wait for me 😞 "

After reading Misa’s message, I had another reason to let my tears flowed. I had finally succeeded at hurting her.

After we kissed and she went back to the pitch, the puffy cloud I was on had turned to a dark storm. I had been weak, letting her think that there could be something between us, letting her know that I wanted to. I had ran away, pretexting having nauseas to my boss, justifying my absence at the end of the game in the same time, as I quickly put my stuff in order and set off without telling anyone else.

My heart sunk deeper. What was I going to say now ?

"I had to packed my working stuff, sorry I’m home" I responded, tears falling down at an increasing pace.

I shortly received " I don’t understand…" followed by "In fact, I guess I do. Adios" that kept me crying half the night.

***

Days off after the Clasico passed. I was back at work. Misa and I no longer talked together. She was ignoring me during every training session. Hayley was doing the same, so I deduced Misa had told her everything. They were no longer photo lessons or endless chatting. The job I loved so much was not so great without friends, or now that I had lost them. And I knew I deserved it as much as Misa deserved an explanation. I was preparing myself to give it to her, not to expect our friendship back, but because I had hurt her and she couldn’t get a thing of what was going on, and maybe because I couldn’t bear her avoiding gaze at the beginning of each training session too. All I had to do was to find the right time and place.

My wish to tell her to truth became quite pressing during a new commercial photoshoot for a collection of sport garments. Obviously, Misa had been chosen for modeling and I was dreading to direct her without having managed to speak with her before.

The set was a corner of a gym with a bright blue bench and a few exercise items. As usual, I was helping a dedicated photographer and his light assistants. The goalkeeper came to the set, her face a mask, her brows imperceptibly frown, her eyes avoiding mine. She was wearing the promoted sport items, an orange neon sport bra and a matching short, completed with knee socks and white sneakers. Of course, she looked incredibly hot.

She sat on the bench, her elbows on her lap, waiting for pose directions.

"Hum, straighten up… turn a bit on the left and… look at the camera." I stammered.

Misa slowly took the pose, her gaze finally leveled up with mine and stay locked here. I felt my cheeks blushed. Her almond-shaped eyes showed all the emotions she was containing : hurt, want, sadness, confusion. I swallowed hard. Her lips pursing, she finally glanced at the camera.

"Ok. Get up, put your hands on your waist, your back to us, and look upon you shoulder"

Misa stood up and turned, the muscles of her tanned back capturing the grazing light of the spots. She flexed her strong arms and put her hands on the bare skin of her waist disappearing under her fuckgod-so-tight-short. Her long legs were slightly spread to give her a steady presence while her underexposed profile detached nicely against the background. She was so stunning I couldn’t do anything but stare blankly, heat rising in various parts of my body.

"Nicky, go put her hair in the front, we can’t see the bra properly" the photographer told me.

I unfroze and moved forward, each step incredibly slow. I approached Misa, still keeping the pose. Our eyes met, she frowned very slightly again and took a deep breath. I bit my lips, feeling so uncomfortable to have to touch her on the top of everything. Her sweet perfume filled my nose. My fingers tips brush the skin of her neck and ran across her shoulders as I gently gather her hair to the right. She stiffened and mutter something in Spanish. I arranged her hair better, having her rolling her eyes when I tucked a strand behind her ear. I was sure I had turned red due to embarrassment and to the cooking rays of the spotlights. I went back to my spot near the photographer. He took the shots and seemed satisfied so I moved on to the next pose.

"Face us. Take a ball in your right hand, the other down and look at the camera. " I said but the photographer corrected "Not straight at the camera, it will looked forced, tell her to look a bit on her right, at you actually".

I shut my eyes. For real ? I heard Misa stifle a sneer, indicating she had caught the corrected indications. When I opened my eyes, she was indeed looking directly at me, her gaze hard, her fading sneer still on her mouth.

"Nah it’s not working, she looks like she going to murder someone. She has to smile more frankly".

If she heard, she pretended not to. Her face harden even more.

"Er… smile please?" I asked her, mortified.

Misa bit her lips, her chest was rising up and down as she took deep breaths.

"What’s…" began the photographer.

"¡Y si no quiero!" Misa burst out. She threw the ball across the room, hitting nothing by miracle. "I’m done here!" she got off to the back room and slammed the door behind her. A heavy silence settled upon us before the photographer talked again.

"What's going on with her ? That’s really unprofessional ! I will report it !"

"Calm down, she’s not at her top right now. I’m going to talk to her".

I timidly opened the door of the changing room. Misa was putting on a jumper, the promoted kit laying on the floor. She froze when she saw me but went back at gathering her stuff without a word. I closed the door behind me.

"Misa… wait please, I… I have to talk to you…"

"About what ? No necesito hablar", she coldly reply while tiding her shoes.

"I know you’re upset because of me, I…"

"I’m not upset only because of you ! But you did put the cherry on the cake that evening !"

My heart sank again, I try to gather some courage. "There is something that you don’t know I should have told you a long time ago ! Please let me explain !" I twisted my hands nervously.

The women looked up, her hands on her laps, her glance icy. "Valé, te escucho."

"Not here, I can’t! Wait for me in my office. I have to finish the photoshoot, just give me ten minutes !" My eyes begun to sting as she narrowed her eyes. Her silence was worse than her saying she was hurt. "Please, Misa !" I begged.

She looked down and sighted. "Valé", she said, getting up and putting her bag on her shoulder.

"Will you be there for real ?" I urged her, unsure of her response.

"Te dije que si !" she shouted at the doorstep without looking back.

I breathed out in relief, still shaken. Angry Misa was really intimidating.

When I entered my office, I found the goalkeeper sat in my chair and looking at her phone. She had turned on my computer, the screen displayed a photo of Hayley, herself and I, sitting in the grass of our favorite pitch corner, the tree of us laughing hard. I ignored my prickling eyes, I had a job to get done.

Misa's gaze followed me as I searched the drawers of my desk. I put out a folder, opened it and retrieved a slack of papers clipped together. I took a second chair and placed it in front of her. I sat down, turned the pages until I found the right passage and began to read.

"Working contract. Close number 23. To prevent any conflict, the present employee accept not to engage in any kind of private relationship with the Real Madrid team members. This applies to the current players and trainers and the players and trainers to come. If the close is infringed, Real Madrid Company will immidialaty put an end to the present employment contract and the eventual working visa and lease the employee may be beneficial through Real Madrid Company. Real Madrid Company will not assist the former employee in any kind of further administrative procedure."

I put the paper aside and stared at the goalkeeper astonished face. "I’m sorry… I so so wish it would be different…"

Misa leant back in her chair, rubbed her hands across her face, and let out a forced laugh. "Que pasa en este puto club..?" She blinked and sighted. "Well, that do explains things…".

"I should have told you after the Clasico but…"

"Shh, Nicky please don’t, it’s done", she leaned towards me, only sadness remained in her eyes now. She stared at the photo of us on the screen. "I just wish I could rewind and go back to this moment. La Copa de la Reina was still up… we were having fun together…"

My eyes stung again. "We did. I miss you guys…"

"And what am I going to do without my awful teacher ?" Misa added softly with a chuckle. "Maybe we could go back at being friend ?" Her warm gaze lighted up with hope.

I looked at her fondly, passing from her brown eyes topped with her thick eyebrows, to her cute nose, and stopping on the dimples on each side of her smiling lips. "Everytime you look at me like that, I can only think of how much I want to kiss you Misa" I confessed.

She smirked shyly, closed her eyes, her cheeks lightly blushing, and bore them into mine once more "Only kiss me ?" she dared say.

I gasped at the thought of her body against mine. "Not a chance" I whispered as I leaned toward her as well. Our hands on our lap brushed. We intertwined our fingers, our breathing already fastening through our half-opened lips. Our faces came closer and closer. "What are we doing ?" I vainly asked as the tip of my nose grazed hers. "Nonsense" her mouth answered almost on mine. "I’m doomed then" I admitted and crashed my lips against the goalkeeper’s.

I kissed her intensely, feeling oddly free to do so for the first time. We both knew the trouble we were in now but we both couldn’t help it. Her tongue touched my lips and I opened them to let her in. I couldn’t suppress a whine, felt a quick worry about being over heard, before sinking in our kiss again.

Misa grasped my neck, making me so needy for more I quitted my chair and went to straddle her. I enfolded her lips with mine once more, pushing her against the back of the chair, pushing my tongue further in her mouth. Her deep breaths had me so worked up I would have screamed if my last restraint hadn't stopped me. Misa led her hands under my t-shirt, caressing my back with her large palms, setting my mind all dizzy. I buried my fingers in her hair and she kissed me harder, soft whimpers escaping from her now.

She pulled up my t-shirt, revealing my chest in my embroiled bra. The beautiful women stopped kissing me and pulled me closer, making me straighten up a bit so that her face pressed against my breast. I bit my tongue hard not to moan as she kissed the soft skin there. I was almost panting, hands and face plunged in her hair, intoxicating myself with her scent and touch all over me.

Three knocks echoed on the door.

We froze. I jumped off her in panic, lowered my t-shirt and took back my chair. Misa was quickly combing her hair with her fingers to make it flat again when the door swung opened.

Ana entered the room, a pile of folders under her arms. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her.

"Hola Nicky. Ah ! I see Miss Rodriguez is here. Did you received her to discuss her unacceptable behavior at the photoshoot ?"

Misa scratched her nose, her hand covering her mouth. I was sure she was hiding a smirk by faking embarrassment.

"Yes" I responded, perfectly happy with the made-up explanation of her presence in my office.

"And did she reprimanded you severely ?" she asked, turning to Misa.

Misa had the time to compose a serious face, thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitched twice. "She did. I apologize for my lake of professionalism. I wasn’t feeling myself. I assure you it won’t happen again."

"Therefore, considered it over, but keep in mind I expected better pressure handling from a professional athlete, Miss Rodriguez." I saw her sunk a bit in her chair before she slowly nodded. Ana turned back to me "Nicky I have lots of things to see with you."

The goalkeeper got up "I’ll leave you then", she said and Ana took her seat.

"Yes, thank you Misa. So, Nicky, let’s start with the most urgent : the travel to Paris next week for the Champions league…"

I tried hard to listen but all I could think of was how wet I was down.

***

"Hey Misa" I said, calling her in my tiny kitchen.

"Hola Nicky, como esta ?" her sweet voice was even softer through the phone.

"Estoy bien y tu ?"

"Bueno. What’s up ? Did your boss figured something out ?"

"No, not at all, don’t worry ! I… well… we were interrupted ahah… and I thought we should talk about what come next…" I began to pace back and forth in the small room.

"Si, pero… I don’t know… I don’t risk much myself but I don’t want you to loose everything because of me… We were pretty close of getting caught".

"You are probably right..." I sighted. "But how do we fix things now ? We’re not exactly behaving like friends do..."

She laughed. "Exacto. Right." she paused, I stopped pacing to gulp a glass of water. "Look Nicky, I say we wait after Paris. I need to focus. It’s not against you but I don’t think I should be distracted by anything else right now. It will be a tough game against the PSG, I have to work harder. I don’t want another Clasico…"

"I understand. Don’t be too hard on yourself though. You did your best !"

"I didn’t managed to save any penalty… not one in five."

"You know better than me it’s the hardest job for goalkeepers."

"But I want to be the best goalkeeper, the one that can stop them, the one that could make my team win."

I bit my lips, Misa was putting so much pressure on herself. In the same time, hearing her being so passionate was moving. "You will then, I believe in you."

There was another pause "I’m glad we’re talking again, Nicky"

"Me too, Misa. Friend or more, I’m here for you if you need me."

"Muchas gracias, I’ll see you tomorrow at training."

"Bye."

I hung up and gazed at the pinky sky of Madrid through the narrow window of my kitchen. I didn’t know where Misa and I were going. I didn’t want to think about it for now, to content to have earned back her trust, after the valleys and peaks we went through. I took another sip of water, feeling impatient to see her practice tomorrow at being the best goalkeeper she could be.

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Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique!

#misa rodriguez #woso #woso community #futbolista #woso imagine #woso x reader #real madrid femenino #spain wnt #woso fanfics #fanfic #woso soccer #woso imagines #misa rodriguez fanfic #misa rodriguez x reader #misa x reader

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nastylittleghouls · 9 months

Text

A Hazy Shade Of Winter

Relationship(s): Aether/Aeon, Aether/Dewdrop, implied Aether/Dewdrop/Aeon

Rating: Mature (to be safe)

Words: 2501

Summary: The first snow is always special. Aether takes it upon himself to show Aeon its joys as he knows it can hit differently for quintessence ghouls.

Warnings: brief mention of blood/death related to events before they were summoned during an anxiety episode on Aeon's side. Aether is affected too but guides them both safely out of it.

Notes: I haven't written anything in years and this was supposed to be a cute little ficlet to stick to my plans to be more creative again. Somehow, it ran away with me. I don't think it turned out too bad so, after careful consideration and battling my inner demons, I decided to share it. Please excuse my rustiness and thank you for reading! <3 The title is from a song by Simon & Garfunkel. The endearment Aether uses for Aeon is Irish Gaelic and means little bear.

AO3 LINK for the so inclined (Aeon is called Phantom there because I am STILL torn on the name. e_e)

The sun is barely kissing the horizon when Aether nuzzles Aeon awake, tells him “It’s time”, in a hushed whisper close against his ear. Aeon turns to curl into him, only to end up cuddling the lukewarm fur at the edge of the nest. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up with the smallest of winces and gives himself a moment to collect himself. Lets himself bathe in the toasty warm glow of oil lamps and the rekindled fireplace.

In Dewdrop’s presence next to him, hogging the nest and snuffling in his sleep. Unashamed and unfairly beautiful. Here, right now, Aeon feels like he is too, still riding the heights of having been welcomed between these two.

Ultimately, in Aether’s gaze. Affectionate. Appreciative. Aeon feels the urge to preen, maybe show off a little. Instead, he ends up following Aether‘s thick yet nimble fingers as they button up his shirt. How can he not?

Admittedly, he’s mourning his cozy spot tucked against Aether’s bare side already. The intoxicating scent of him and Dew mingled with his own. That he could stuff his face into his armpit and just block everything else out except for them and the ache in his body from last night. Just a bit, though. Watching Aether getting ready makes up for it, despite it being horribly distracting from his own task of getting up and giving him ideas of either pulling the other ghoul back into the nest or, even better, getting on his knees for him right then and there to continue his worship.

Both options would probably wake Dew up and ruin Aether‘s valid effort to let him sleep. Tempting but not worth the aftermath. Not today. It would probably cost him nest privileges. Dew doesn’t fuck around with that. Never mind that this isn’t even his nest. He just has Aether wrapped around his claws. All nine and a half of them.

Aether is smirking by the time Aeon finally looks up at his face again, nodding encouragingly towards the end of the nest.

There are fresh clothes already waiting for him, soft and thick and neatly laid out within reach. Even his new acquisition, a long scarf, that he had watched Cumulus and Sunshine working on in the common room quite often after the tour ended, to finish it before the first frost set in. He had not known the purpose of it back then and had called it a ribbon noodle until they had explained it all to him.

Seeing it grow, stitch row after stitch row had been fascinating. Not only had it made him want to be able to do that as well. It had made him feel like it was him that was ultimately being woven tighter into the patchwork that was this pack. His home.

Another whisper pulls him out of his musings.

„C‘mon, béirín. You‘ll need clothes for this kind of fun“

And that’s more than enough for the spark to ignite a flame of excitement inside him as well. Aether has never led him astray when it comes to introducing him to new topside things but it’s the endearment that holds the most importance to him at this moment. It makes him happily drum his fingers on his thigh before he’s rudely interrupted by the end of Dew’s tail smacking him in the face. It’s light, but he sends, an apparently now semi-awake, Dew a pout as he finally gets dressed anyway. He’s just. He has been waiting, not so patiently, for Aether to finally choose one for him. Of course, Dewdrop can’t relate.

Before they leave, Aether brushes a kiss against Dew‘s temple. It earns him a sleepy smile and a scritching for his sideburns in response. Which, in turn, elicits a low purr out of Aether. As his heart skips a few beats at the sight, Aeon can‘t decide which one of them he‘d rather be.

Snickering as if they’re doing something forbidden, they sneak through the still quiet hallways of the abbey, past the other Ghouls' rooms, towards the wooden door that leads into the courtyard. Aether stops to properly loop the scarf around Aeon’s neck, affectionately chuffing at him when he goes up on his tiptoes to bump their horns together.

Aeon relishes the moment until the very second Aether pulls away.

Heavy snowfall greets them as Aether pushes the heavy door open with his shoulder. As expected, he feels Aeon stiffen. Recoiling into the safety of Aether’s side, eyes squeezed shut. Their mental connection stutters, shuts down then reopens. Aether is prepared, a large hand placed over Aeon's lower back and his heart. Fingers splayed wide and grounding over the small frame, his quintessence beckoning Aeons and entwining with it protectively again once it found its way.

He knows what this sight does to new ghouls, first and foremost to the quintessence kin.

The sunrise painting white snow in red too similar to the blood and ash of fallen kin. The Heavenly Wars. The destruction of quintessence beings. The last scene before their eyes as the void claims back what Lucifer burrowed. If unfortunate, forever lost.

Aeon’s reaction infiltrates Aether’s vessel's nervous system like electricity and drags parts of his own long-forgotten fear to the surface again, as irrational as he knows it is. Makes his healed wounds burn anew. Gives him the illusion of putrid fumes invading his nostrils before he can reign himself back in again for both of their sakes.

Own up to his responsibility as one of the pack leaders. The blind trust Aeon extends towards him.

He’s fine. Has to be. For them.

“Timor mortis conturbat me,” Aether murmurs as he moves them forward, one of his hands seeking the outline of the pendants hanging low on his chest, buried under the thick wool of his cloak. One, unarguably the most important one, holds fragments of Dew’s horns. The before and after. A reminder of the strength and protection of a mate freely given.

He taps his next words into Aeon’s mind, not wanting to disturb the quiet around them. Maybe not trusting his voice either. It could crack and give out after all. All too weak.

“I’m here. Deep Inhale, deep exhale. I want to feel your body move with it”

He takes his advice as well. On the next exhale, synced with the smaller ghoul’s, Aether’s eyes close too, and with it, he finds his voice again. Even manages to put a smile into it.

“We’re safe. This is just snow, the very one we told you about. Listen to it fall”

His hands move up, putting the lightest pressure on the outer shell of Aeon’s ears with his thumbs, rubbing the pads over the edges. The pointed tips. They flick wildly under his ministrations before they still again and the smaller ghoul relaxes against him just slightly with an audible sigh.

It‘s the reaction that he was aiming for and again he moves his hands and tips Aeon’s face up towards the rapidly falling snow, keeping his fingerpads there to stroke light circles along his jaw.

”Feel it tickle your skin. How fluffy it is. Just like Lus’ hair”

Numerous seconds tick by before Aeon’s dulled-down quintessence aura blooms back into full force.

When Aether chances a look at the smaller ghoul, his eyes are open again as he finally takes his surroundings in without his fear overshadowing his excitement. Aether could swear he was even wearing the same awed facial expression Dew had worn, that Aether must have worn too when Omega had introduced them to this wonderful earthen spiel.

He snorts slightly, amused when Aeon goes cross-eyed at the sight of their breath fogging up in front of him, swatting at it with his hand as if he’s not sure what to make of it before letting out a curious chirp and slowly extracts himself from Aether’s side. Not without a cautious glance back to reassure himself once more that he is safe. Protected. Then he visibly shakes the remaining shadows of the past off and starts sliding through the snow, twirling carefree around himself, open-mouthed trying to catch the snow on his forked tongue.

The utter confusion when it doesn‘t pile up but melts is not lost on Aether. It reminds him of the raccoon trying to wash cotton candy that he and Rain had discovered while they were both sick and stuck in bed for a week.

It would be a shame if this wouldn’t find its way to Rain too for him to appreciate, wouldn’t it? But just as he reaches into his pocket, the younger ghoul trips over his tail while chasing it, limbs flailing in all directions, and falls into a snowbank. Face first, arms and legs starfished around him.

It’s quite deep, Aether can only see a Aeon-shaped immersion with his butt sticking out in the otherwise surprisingly pristine snow. It‘s a perfect still life, he thinks. Original oil on canvas. Aether titles it, tail as old as time' since Aeon's tail, the cause of it all, is curled like a piglet’s against his body. The Church of Satan will take your bids now.

“Fuck, that’s cold”.

Aether tries not to laugh. Attempts to look up into the falling snow, bite down on his bottom lip but it’s futile. Barks of laughter burst out of him with short, helpless sounds in between.

Aeon‘s tail swishes back and forth with them, bouncing like a coil spring, which sets Aether off even harder, tearing up a little. Until a muffled, yet high-pitched “Aeth. Help” reaches his ears and he quickly makes his way over, rolling the other ghoul onto his back.

„You okay?“

Aeon looks up at him with slitted eyes as he attempts to blow at the snow stuck on his face then his upper body shoots up, grabs, and pulls Aether down right on top of himself.

The cursed element of surprise.

They roll through the snow, their laughter and the occasional curse so loud that they’re probably waking the whole abbey up. Their tails lash playfully as they try to shove each other into the white cold - Aether‘s joints will make him pay for this later- until Aether finally realizes what Aeon is trying to accomplish. He isn’t trying to win or end up on top, he’s enjoying the way Aether’s body is pressing him down into the snow again and again. The way he covers him completely. Eyes shining brighter with every turn.

Aether boops the younger ghoul’s red nose when a higher slope forces them to a stop, about to give Aeon space to breathe when their laughter tapers off into them just grinning goofily at each other. Thinks about suggesting they make their way back inside to warm up with hot chocolate and pancakes to round this experience off. The temperature is affecting his protege by now if the shivers he’s trying to hide are anything to go by.

As soon as he realizes Aether’s intention, Aeon reaches up to pull the bigger Ghoul down into a kiss. He aims for sweet but ends up desperate. Aether allows it. Indulges him for a while by letting him lead. Humms with the wet slide of their tongues, then tips his head to a sharper angle, guiding Aeon’s enthusiasm into something slow and deep.

Aeon’s breath catches mid-moan with the intensity of it.

Slender arms wind themselves around Aether's shoulders, clinging. Keeping. Legs fall open wider in invitation, hips grinding his still sensitive cock up against Aether‘s with little gasps, boldly asking for more. For anything Aether is willing to give him. He’d let him take him right there. Wants him to. The wetness and cold that is seeping more and more into his body be damned. He just wants to feel that closeness and give himself over again.

I’m here. Please see me. Feel me. Let me be yours too.

„You could warm me up with something else,“ Aeon manages in between. It‘s cheesy, accompanied by the dorkiest eyebrow wriggle Aether has seen in his long life. A salute to Swiss influence, no doubt.

„Is that so?“

It doesn’t sound like a question. The mirth in Aether's words is a stark contrast to the heated look in his eyes. He should reprimand Aeon for mind snooping and not reward him with another kiss. But how can temptation not get the best of him when …

Fate doesn’t want him to finish that thought. A snowball hits Aether square on the back of his head, and he looks up, alarmed. A little confused.

Dew is leaning against the door frame, clad in nothing but one of Aether’s hoodies and knee-high socks that reveal a sliver of creamy skin every time he switches feet to protect them somewhat from the cold floor, regarding them with a mischievous smirk.

It’s betrayed by how his eyes are still unguarded from sleep, and the love Aether knows is always there. It‘s a look to be alluring, and it works every time. Dew knows how weak Aether is for him wearing his clothes, how stunning he looks, made obvious once more by Dew quirking a knowing eyebrow at him when their eyes meet and the demanding tug at their bond.

How long has Dew been watching them?

Aether smiles too sweetly down at Aeon when he whines, traps his still twitching hips with his thigh, and affectionately ruffles his hair. Mouths 'stay still' at him while he banters with an entirely unbothered Dewdrop. Aeon doesn‘t hear much of it, just happily gets lost in the touch, a shaky breath that he can thankfully pass off as being cold, leaving him. Aether’s attention being divided once more makes Aeon already miss having it entirely to himself. It’s rare. Too rare.

“Get the fuck back inside then. I’ll warm you up alright”.

It's the first thing he consciously hears Dew say before Aether pulls himself up. His grabby hands are not fast enough to stop Aether and he can’t stop the utterly sad sound that leaves him at the realization. “Now he acts like I’d leave him all by himself, “Aether teases with a chuckle and helps Aeon to his feet as well, patting the snow from his clothes. Aeon remembers to return the favor, subtly turning his head to look for Dew. The spot he had occupied is empty, the door closed again. Probably back in Aether’s warm nest already.

When Aether walks back towards the building, Aeon lingers, looking down at the spot they just laid in again. The indents they left are already filling back up with a fresh layer of snowflakes. 'Snow’s pretty rad', he decides as he adjusts himself in his damp pants with the heel of his hand to get at least a little bit of relief, before finally catching up with Aether, ducking under the already raised arm to let him pull him against his side. Good boys can wait.

“So, about that hot chocolate…..”

#Aether Ghoul #Phantom Ghoul #Aeon Ghoul #Dewdrop Ghoul #nameless ghouls #Dewther #Aether/Phantom #Aether/Dewdrop/Phantom #Aether/Dewdrop #Ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #Mighty Feathers

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