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darkhymns-fic · 9 months ago

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A Show of Strength

When Seles challenges one of her brother's companions in the coliseum, she only has one goal in mind: To achieve victory and earn Zelos' respect.

But Colette, the current Champion of the coliseum, has a put a little dent in her plans. Why offer kindness during a fight?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Seles Wilder, Tokunaga, Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder (mentioned) Rating: G Word Count: 5866 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Finished up a fic I started last year for @unsungtalesweek! Initially came up with the idea because I did the Seles fight with Colette and it made me think of their unexplored dynamic.

Seles was already out of breath.

The lobbies were oddly cramped here, she noticed. Despite its size to house several waiting fighters for their chance at glory, there were too many of them, along with the weapons that took up spaces in the corners, and the beds on the right wall to hold the injured as they waited to be healed. The smell of polished metal and leather, the unsettling way the floor seemed to wobble at her feet, and the shouts of the crowd just outside those walls—it was…

Overwhelming.

“Ma’am? Are you well?”

Still, Seles felt the age-old frustration. She resented the pity she saw in the nurse’s eyes. Her gaze flicked to the blood-soaked bandages the woman held. “I think you should have more pressing matters to attend to. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I just wanted to check if you needed any aid—”

“I said ,” Seles spoke again, knowing how petulant she must have sounded. “Leave me alone.”

“It’s quite alright.” Tokunaga appeared from the side of the room, as if from thin air. He shooed away the nurse with a gloved hand. “I will see to her, thank you.”

Seles perhaps was a little ashamed at the relief she felt, like a child grateful that their parent intervened. Tokunaga wasted little time, already pulling out a chair from a hidden corner, brushing away dust and whatever debris that had been left over the years.

She took the opportunity to seat herself, keeping her gratitude silent. Tokunaga would know how she felt regardless. “Where have you been?” she asked instead.

“Perusing who’s fighting for the Champion title,” Tokunaga explained. He provided a handkerchief succinctly, Seles taking it to wipe away the cold sweat at her brow. “The last match is currently underway. It is one of the Chosen’s companions.”

She made sure to keep her face expressionless, though she knew such a thing to be useless. Tokunaga could read her like a beloved novel, perhaps already knowing how she went through all the faces of those companions in her head. From that witch from Mizuho, to that loud boy in red, to even the president of the Lezareno Company. Her brother had such an odd array of attendants helping him on the journey.

“So this all depends if they win.” She fiddled with the handle of her bag. “If only I had challenged my brother when he had been competing.”

But of course, she had been too fatigued, barely making it in time to watch his matches. And even then, she had been content to simply see him there, fighting skillfully with sword and shield. Of course he may have ruined the imagery of him being a skilled warrior whenever he opened his mouth to brag after every fight, she still wanted to see all that he did.

All that she had missed by being shut away in the Abbey.

But for these matches, she ensured she would arrive earlier, no matter who was taking place in the row of battles. I won’t let my weakness take over again.

“This will still be a good opportunity. Zelos will have no choice but to accept you, I am sure of it.” Tokunaga tried to appear complacent, but she could hear the tremble in his voice. “And if he somehow doesn’t, I will make him see reason.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself, Tokunaga. This is up to me now.” Still, she felt touched. Tokunaga had been one of the very few to not let her wallow alone in her feelings.

He had been the one to come up with this plan, after all.

Soon, the cheering within the coliseum got even louder, so much that it pierced through the stone walls of the lobby. It seemed that perhaps the battle was close to its end.

Her legs were no longer shaking, and she found it easier to breathe. She felt the Exsphere press against her cuff, its luster hidden away underneath her clothes. Its effects were finally working again…or maybe it was simply the chair that provided her a brief respite.

“I want to see it,” she said, making the effort to stand. Her footing was firm. “Show me.”

“Of course. Right this way.” Tokunaga knew how to be efficient when necessary. He lent her the crook of his elbow, and she took hold without comment. To others, it would look just as a lady holding onto the arm of a polite gentleman—and not the stability that she relied on just in case her health once again gave out.

Even so, she couldn’t afford that now.

Tokunaga led her to an alcove, a hidden door near to the side that was meant for the coliseum employees. Over here, there was also a small open window, showcasing the very center of the structure, along with a section of the crowd, their faces numerous and their waving arms like that of a multi-legged creature. It was only then she could finally understand their excitement.

The first thing Seles noticed was the brilliant light that flashed inside the coliseum. At first, she thought it belonged to the enemy, and it was a great thing indeed—a fierce dragon warrior that had been tamed just enough to battle inside Meltokio's walls, and to, maybe, halt its own killing blow. But anyone could very well trip into the end of its axe by mistake and split open their head.

It almost seemed like that girl might very well do so.

Seles had only met Colette once. Sylvarant's very own Chosen. She had said very little then, seeming to sink into the background as Zelos, in his constant smile, asked for his crystal. There wasn't much she could glean from that one meeting alone. Just another one of big brother's attendants, she had thought. Then, with even more ire, Or is she just one of his stupid floozies?

The girl hadn't shown off her wings, but now they were on display, uplifting her away from the swing of that weapon. And even when it seemed she would trip again in the very air, it seemed to be done in safety. A flash of pink, followed by white, and it seemed the very wrath of heaven rained down from above.

Quick, yet awe-inspiring. The great dragon fell on its backs, its own wings outstretched uselessly. Axe and shield dropped from its claws, while the girl—Colette—held onto her chakrams with a worried expression.

"Oh whoops! Did I hurt it too much?"

Seles thought she could hear the girl's name being shouted. The crowd? No. To the side of her somewhere within the lobby, she could see one boy in that garish red waving his arms from another window, cheering her on. All while Colette dusted away her dress, giving that same boy a cheerful wave back.

The air still hummed from the angelic arte. Seles could feel it on her skin, even in here, electric and terrifying. "So, this is the true power of the Chosen…" she heard Tokunaga whisper beside her. Perhaps he was reconsidering their mission. She gripped the handle of her bag tightly in both hands.

"Let's go. They'll be done congratulating her soon."

That seemed to shock some life back in her servant. His lips pressed into a thin line, then he gave a nod. He held out his hand. "I will lead you then."

But already, she reached for the door handle. The sunlight beamed down at her as she opened it to a wave of incredible sound and heat. “You told me before. I need to issue her the challenge myself.”

And if big brother will ever respect me, I need to finally prove myself to him.

Seles had always been so small, even as a child. The kind of smallness where even adults would have trouble seeing her until she was already at their feet. No matter her bright red hair, or even when she cried. Once, she had collapsed onto the stone stairs, breaking her nose, and it had taken nearly an hour for someone to find her.

In the Abbey, she was seen even less. The Papal Knights avoided staring at her when they could, their helmets turned to the side whenever she passed them. Other church members would barely speak with her, ensuring only that she would have food and clothing. For much of her days, Seles would simply sit outside to watch the ocean lap at the shore, a book in her hands to read through. She had re-read her books several times over, enough that their bindings began to fall apart.

It was why Zelos’ visits had meant so much to her. For at least, for a very brief time, someone was seeing her. Acknowledging her. Speaking to her. Only him and Tokunaga, and even those attendants of his, who gawked at her like she was up on display. But it was better than being flat-out ignored. Better than being forgotten completely.

Her boots trampled along the dirt of the coliseum, eyes set on her goal. The girl’s wings were like a beacon almost, beckoning her to move forward despite the rapid beating of her heart and her shortened breath from exertion.

“And for her victory, let’s give a big congratulations to Super Girl!” yelled the announcer, though his voice petered out once he saw Seles marching forward.

Out there, in the middle of the coliseum pit, Seles suddenly got the complete reaction that she had been wanting for all her life. All eyes were now on her, noticing her as she made her way to the center. All eyes saw her exist.

And that included the strange Chosen from Sylvarant, who turned to her with bright, confused eyes.

Suddenly, Seles was struck and forgot all that she had been about to say. So once again, Tokunaga had to go to her rescue.

“Wait just a moment!” Her butler, her one confidant in all that she wanted and feared for, stepped forward with a steady voice. She envied that, noting how he didn’t sound at all weakened. “Your next opponent is…Seles!”

The announcer was looking at a piece of paper that he pulled from his pocket. “Uh, isn’t the surprise team for next week…?”

“Oh! Seles!” Colette fluttered her wings, moving slightly closer. Though her hair was just a bit tangled from her fights, and there was a bit of dirt on her clothes, she rarely looked worse for wear. She hardly seemed tired out at all. “Are you here to see Zelos?”

And at the mention of her brother’s name, it was as if something clicked. If he was here, he would be watching the fight. He would see her. She straightened, taking a step past Tokunaga, ignoring the cheers from the crowd, the hundreds of mouths hungry for another fight.

“You’re the Chosen of the declining world, correct? A Chosen like my brother. And since you serve him, you must have confidence in your skill.”

The girl blinked at the observation, as if she had no idea she had just been fighting teams of warriors and monsters, including a giant dragon. “Ah, I am! A Chosen, I mean. I don’t know about serving…”

A small shout from the side, cutting through all the cheering. The voice was incredibly loud to be heard past the multitudes of others. “We’re not his servants! Stop calling us that!”

Seles narrowed her eyes. She had her resolve. Maybe it was the cheers of the crowd, urging her on. So different from the secret training sessions she had endured, where all she heard was the clang of steel and her own labored breaths.

“As Tokunaga already stated, I’m your next opponent.” Then, with demand in her voice, “Now, fight me!”

Another great cheer, and even the announcer decided to go along with it, raising up his hand to gesture to Seles. “So, we have Seles fighting against our Super Girl champion! An unexpected turn of events!”

Colette's hands didn't seem to know where to go at first. They fidgeted with each other, then clasped tightly as the Chosen, savior of the dying world of Sylvarant, stuttered. "Ah, um-um, do…do we really have to fight?"

Seles felt a sharp stinging in her head at that, a shortness of breath in her lungs. Was this a strategy of the other girl's? To make her weak?

Or was what happened with the dragon had just been a fluke?

"..Silence!" Seles shouted back. She gritted her teeth, already frustrated beyond belief. "I’ll prove that I’m stronger than you!"

If such a girl like this can be a Chosen, then so could she!

The announcer took that as his cue to officially start the fight, cutting his arm in between the two girls and then effectively leaping back to avoid any flying sharp objects. “Begin!”

“Ah, wait!” Colette still hadn’t taken out her weapons, which Seles knew she still held somewhere on her person. “If you wanted to just talk with your brother, we could—”

“That is not what I asked of you!” How stubborn was this girl? Seles gripped the handle of her bag tightly, recalling to her mind an arte. If this girl refused to fight, then she would just have to force her.

And she knew how few would expect her to know any of the skills she had tirelessly learned over the years.

For a moment, it looked like Colette would protest again. But Seles raised her hand, a shining flare hovering just above the girl’s head.

Light magic had been one of the first things she learned, ever since she was a child. It was her mother who had taught her the Ray arte specifically.

She had hoped that the glaring light would prompt Colette to move, to accidentally rush right into a beam of magic that circled around her spot. But the girl, still with her wings out, remained still, watching the magic take place, and then raised her arms above her head.

The light hit something transparent that surrounded her for a moment, glittering with a green tint before fading away completely. Colette then raised her head. Her weapons, rings of metals that were as brilliant as her golden hair, were already clutched in her hands.

“If…if you want to fight, then okay! But just so you know, I’m going to try really, really hard!”

Seles wavered just then. She was befuddled, looking towards Colette who just had her eyebrows slightly lowered, her mouth barely in a frown. Was this girl making fun of her?

For a moment, it felt like the gleeful shouts of the crowd around her turned to jeers.

“Argh, then just fight me already!”

Not a spell this time, but she reached into her bag. The item was another gift from her mother, it’s magical properties giving her the ability to house what she needed, and to summon them at will. The star-stitched pattern on it glowed as it gave her what she seeked.

The staff of the wand was nearly as large as her body, and the star atop it kept growing and growing, until it seemed impossible for someone such as her to wield it.

But her Exsphere made so many things possible for her. It gave her strength when she needed it, it let her breathe in the air more easily, and it let her move her legs when before, on her worse days, she’d have to rest on her knees.

Even if the Exsphere could not cure her, it gave her the appearance of someone who could hold her own. She had to make such a thing real.

She swung the wand right in front of her, stars falling all around her in a terrific storm, until it engulfed the girl in front of her. Just a flash of her violet wings, the shine of her weapons against the light of Seles’ wand. The stars were just a distraction, and her wand grazed Colette’s arm, prompting a surprised shout from her.

She took a quick glance. There was a tear in Colette’s sleeve, but no sign of a full injury. Seles huffed in frustration, putting the wand away back in her bag.

Colette watched the motion, somehow completely forgetting about the near scuffle from before. “Oh wow! That’s amazing! How does it fit in there?”

“Wh—That’s none of your business!” Why did this girl keep asking so many stupid questions!?

Seles needed to fight better, be more aggressive, lean more into what she had been training for. That was all there was to it.

She could hear the crowd’s shouts growing louder when she reached back into her bag. There was clear excitement in the air, the people already catching onto her abilities. Even Colette seemed to stare, which did instill a bit of nervousness within Seles. It doesn’t matter! I just have to beat her! The weapon she pulled out emitted a metallic sound, the blade scraping against its magical hold.

Her sword’s hilt had been specially designed to fit her own hands—one of the few benefits of being part of the Mana Lineage, even for one who was banished to an island in the southern seas. She only lingered for a moment, getting used to the weight of the blade.

With a lunge, Seles aimed her strike at Colette, and yet, the girl already seemed to block it so easily? The chakrams may have been weapons, but they paled in comparison to the giant sword Seles wielded. They looked as frail as gold foil, and should have bent underneath her strength.

Because Seles knew she was strong—from her Exsphere, from her training, from her own will. Even the swordsmen Tokunaga had hired to train her had trouble deflecting her blows when she sparred with them. But instead, Colette knocked aside her attack, nearly upending her balance. It was those wings, bright and distracting, filling the air with trails of stardust in their wake.

“I’m so sorry,” Colette was saying. She still held fast to her chakrams, arms up in defense. “Are you hurt?”

Incredible words from her, when she had just been fighting a dragon, when her overcoat was still slightly frayed from Seles’ earlier attacks. But otherwise, this seemed to be a walk in the park for her.

Seles felt a strange wave of jealousy run through her, directed at this girl who probably didn’t feel her lungs burn. With a quick sheathe of the sword, Seles commanded the mana to store within her hands again. “Don’t you dare go easy on me!”

Pillars of ice erupted from where Colette stood. Sharp and tall, refracting the sunlight to blind the eyes. Seles felt the chill within her throat, controlling herself from coughing. For a moment, wings flickered away from existence.

But it was only because Colette tripped away from the spell.

This has to be a joke, Seles thought with disbelief.

Yet instead, the girl quickly got to her feet, brushing away the dirt from her dress. As if she had just fallen over a bend in the road instead of fighting for her life in battle.

She wasn’t taking Seles seriously!

“That was so quick!” Colette was now complimenting—complimenting!!—on her spellwork, still not using her chakrams to actually take the offense. “How did you—?”

“No! That’s enough!” Seles shouted, already calling forth another arte. “Stop asking me questions during our fight! You didn’t do this for anyone else!”

Colette paused. She still hovered above the ground, wings fluttering before her. The unforgiving sunlight made her golden hair burn.

“If you truly don’t want to fight me, then forfeit right now, instead of trying to so clearly stall it.” Seles clutched her bag handle so tightly that it hurt, that it made her palm ache so much. “Don’t treat my challenge as something so trivial.”

Her whole existence has been both trivial and troublesome to many. In the coliseum, it shouldn’t have no longer mattered. The only importance was knowing who was stronger, and that was it.

Even with the crowd still cheering, some of them chanting for Colette, the other for Seles, (though some must have not known who Seles truly was, or they would never cheer for her in the first place) both girls stood their ground, facing the other. The arte was ready on Seles’ tongue, her right hand held up to the sky, waiting.

Then, after an eternity, Colette nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.” She held out her weapons, and in that moment, there was something different in her eyes, a resolve that didn’t feel unfamiliar. “I’ll fight you if it’s the only way.”

Seles didn’t answer her. She already had the chant for Prism Sword, circling over and over in her mind. The arte descended onto Colette almost immediately, but she had seen the Sylvaranti Chosen endure much more than that.

She still needed to win.

But soon, Seles understood what it meant to fight against true angelic strength.

It was what the dragon had faced before with Colette, and now Seles had taken the dragon’s place. The forceful barrage of chakram thrusts, and the occasional spell of light that rained down from the sky kept Seles on her toes, kept her rushing across the field of the coliseum, dirt staining her dress, her hair already matted with sweat beneath her hat.

The Sylvaranti Chosen still said the occasional ‘Oops!’ and ‘Uh oh’ throughout their battle, but fought with more precision now. She was relentless, her wings framing her as she met Seles’ sword strikes with her circular blades. Seles noticed how the girl’s arms didn’t tremble, even as blood leaked from her palms from where the chakrams bit at her skin.

Occasionally, Seles would switch to her other weapons; her wand, her giant hammer, the shape of a planet as its head, but her sword was the most reliable. She met Colette’s strikes, and quickly put it away when she would revert to her spellcasting.

But the problem was that Seles’ endurance, even with her Exsphere, had never been that strong. She was getting exhausted.

“Looks like Super Girl has her opponent on the ropes!” The announcer’s voice was unexpected, surprising Seles out of her stance and aiming her Freeze Lancer to the wrong side. She groaned in frustration and restarted her spell.

The noise was getting to be too much, and that annoying host was not helping at all!

Just keep going. Another arte…then I can catch her off guard!

Then, she heard someone call out to her.

“...eles! Seles!!”

What? Seles couldn’t help but turn to the right, to the seats that faced them and the people waving, eager to see the pandemonium that was occurring. On one of those seats, she saw a familiar face, the figure wearing an awful red coat, his brown hair unkempt as he was watching the scene and cheering. Was that not one of her brother’s attendants? He must have left the lobby to get a better view of the fight. But then who was—

“Hey! Seles!”

Another quick glance to the right, near the bottom of the circular row of seats, and she saw Zelos. He was gripping the edge of the coliseum wall, his red hair tumbling past his face. “What are you doing?!”

He looked worried. He looked frightened for her. Seeing him in the crowd, that look froze her in place, made her forget the words to her arte.

Zelos looked at her as if she would break apart at any moment.

“Judgment!”

The call for the spell was the only thing that brought Seles back to the battlefield, even if for a second too late. As beams of light rained down, she quickly pulled out another item from her bag; a giant shield with a star engraved in the center, and wings fanning out at the sides. It was as large as her entire body, and she lifted the metal over her head to withstand the magic attacks that rained down from the skies, like the wrath of heaven. The force of it was intense, enough to blow away the hat off her head and flutter off in an unseen direction.

And then, before the spell was even finished, she saw Colette fly towards her to attack.

Seles was going to lose.

Still, with shaking arms, she placed the shield back in front of her to block the girl’s chakram blows. They felt as heavy as iron sledges against her shield, and she saw how the weapons glowed with angelic power. This really is the power of the Chosen, she thought to herself in both awe and fear. I can’t fight against it.

And with that thought, the ache in her arms became nigh overwhelming. Another attack from Colette, a thrust from her chakram to leave a cut against the star design of her shield, and Seles crumpled to the ground. She let go of both the shield and bag, the latter spilling out her sword up to middle part of the blade from its opening. The bag’s insides were full of dazzling colors, the magic still trying to work but with no wielder to guide it.

“No! Not…not yet, I…” Seles could only lift herself to her knees, but couldn’t push herself further. Colette was still a bit of distance away, her weapons held before her, and her wings still shining so brilliantly.

Seles shut her eyes to the sight and her ears to the crowd. She didn’t want to hear the referee announce her defeat, and simply knelt there to wait. It’s over. I didn’t win. She pressed her hands to her knees, crumpling the dress in her fingers. Zelos won’t ever accept me now.

“Seles?” Another call for her name, but this was time, it was calm. It was sincere. A mixture of shadow and light fell over her. “Are you okay?”

A hand reached out to her, the palms slightly callused, with a sharp cut drawn across. The red was almost blinding.

“No! Just…leave me alone. You won.” You’re stronger than me…better than me. It was no wonder then that this girl was the Chosen in her own right.

Seles’ hands were hurting. They ached, and they stung. Her palms felt raw, as if the skin would break at any moment. Except… Colette’s hands are already bleeding.

“Seles! This…this must be some kind of mistake.” Tokuaga was already by her side, kneeling in the dirt with her. A hand gently pressed on her shoulder.

The man had so much faith in her that she could not live up to. For a moment, she couldn’t even look at him. “I wasn’t strong enough. That’s all.” With shaking knees, Seles got to her feet, making sure to grab both her bag, all items pushed inside it, and her hat. She was already out of breath. The crowd around her was too much now, making her want to hide.

Colette was still looking at her, the hand she had offered now lowered. But she didn’t move away.

“Maybe… we can talk now? Since we’re done fighting?” Colette quickly sheathed her chakrams, both her hands already empty though they must have ached terribly.

Seles tried to steady her voice even as her lungs struggled. That and the crowd’s constant yelling was giving her a headache. “I don’t want to talk! You’ve gotten your victory. Is that not enough?”

She was further weakening herself this way, so she rushed back to the walls of the coliseum. She didn’t hear Tokunaga go after her. Perhaps he realized this plan was foolish now that she couldn’t fulfill her part no matter what.

“Please, understand Seles’ feelings…”

Already she was through the door, rushing past some badgering guards, past the nurse who had been looking at her like she would fall apart at the seams. But at some point, she must have stopped to catch her breath, placing a hand over her chest and waiting for her body to finally calm down.

Instead, it only worsened, her body shaking from the strain of all the fighting. She had pushed herself beyond what she was used to, and even her Exsphere wasn’t enough to keep her from feeling the effects. If just one fight was enough to get her this winded, then how could she think she would be able to travel with her brother?

“Seles?”

It wasn’t Tokunaga’s voice that called out to her, like she expected. It wasn’t even Zelos’ voice, even though he had called out to her in the coliseum.

She turned to see Colette rushing up to her. Her wings had vanished, leaving just a girl in her white overcoat, and her hair a little frayed from the fight.

Apparently, challenging this girl had been her poorest decision yet.

“Why are you… Go away!” Seles snapped before Colette could even reach her. She felt so sick and lightheaded. She needed to close her eyes. “What more do you want? Can’t you see I can barely even stand now?”

Just a weak girl that everyone just wanted to shut away in the Abbey. Out of sight, out of mind.

When someone clasped her hand, she flinched, but she didn’t pull away. The hand had a roughness to it, and she felt the fresh cut over her own palm. Opening her eyes, Colette was holding her hand with a smile on her face.

“There was a time, not long ago, that I was barely able to walk on my own. I felt like I was letting everyone down.” Colette’s voice was gentle, held with patience that Seles had trouble understanding just why. “I’m sorry you’re feeling the same… But, in our fight, you were strong. And I think a lot of people can see that.”

The way the Chosen drove to the core of Seles’ fears unnerved her. But she no longer felt as sick as before, though her head still occasionally pounded. She didn’t even feel in danger of falling anymore, somehow more calm than what she felt just minutes before.

“Tokunaga told me why you’re here. And that you wanted to join Zelos on our journey. I think that would be amazing if you could!” Colette gripped her hand warmly, and the grin she had on her face didn’t seem to be false.

“But…why would you care about that? You barely know me.”

Colette blinked, but she seemed to consider her answer, going by the soft ‘um’ sound she uttered. “Well, it’s fun to make new friends. And I’ve made so many on this journey. Maybe you can, too.”

Seles had no idea what Colette meant by all this. She wondered then what Zelos really thought about this girl.

She shook her head. “I doubt big brother would want me to join…especially after I lost.” The plan was for me to win, so he would have to accept me. But since Colette beat me, there’s no way that—

“I can ask him if you can join!”

Seles raised her head. “What?”

“I can ask him!” Colette nodded. “And maybe Lloyd can, too. And Genis, and everyone else! I’m sure Zelos is just worried about your health, but if we all look out for each other like we always do, then it should be okay.”

“Do you really think it would be that easy?” Seles asked pointedly. She didn’t want false hope, after a life of denial. “If there’s one thing I know about my big brother, it’s that he’s stubborn.”

“Hm, but he might change his mind on something if a girl asks him to? At least, that’s what he’s said before!”

“...He said that?” Seles seethed inwardly. So she IS a floozie!

“Yes! Or he might have been joking. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.” Colette still hadn’t let go of her hand, seemingly so insistent on staying connected.

“I don’t… I’m not sure.” But she was feeling better, somehow. Just talking about this seemed to lift away the weight from her chest. A question soon nagged at her, demanding an answer. “How did you get better? If you were also weak?”

“It took…a while,” Colette answered. The color in her eyes seemed muted then, at the mention of a past Seles didn’t know of. “And, not everything has been fixed, if that’s what you mean. The noises of the crowds here are actually a lot for me still. And I still get ill sometimes whenever I push myself. It’s…a balancing act, almost.”

Something about that made Seles a little saddened. Maybe this weakness was not something one could fully escape from.

“But that’s why I think I can convince Zelos to let you come along! He knows I get this way too, and that I’m still trying my best. He’ll understand that you’re doing the same!”

“Are you sure?” Seles had to ask once more, but the hope was strong. “I shouldn’t let others talk for me. I need to ask him myself.”

“Would it still be okay if I was with you when you ask him?”

Colette was looking at her like some eager puppy, with her constant questions and encouragement. Seles was not used to such a thing. “I…I suppose so! Also, you can let go of my hand now.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Colette immediately let go with a nervous giggle. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

“...How did you not—Never mind.” Seles flexed the hand Colette had been holding. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had held her hand for such a time, except for when she was a child.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so kind to me,” she said without meaning to. Instantly, she regretted it. The words made her sound so petulant and young.

But Colette answered her with sincerity, still.

“I think it’s important to be kind. More than anything.” Colette turned slightly to her left, down back to the lobby where Seles had initially waited. “I think I heard Zelos and Lloyd just now. They’re looking for you.”

Seles noted how Colette didn’t mention how they were searching for the both of them. It would make sense they would seek out their companion. But for Seles?

Maybe she could do this.

“Okay, let’s go talk to them before I change my mind about this,” she said with quickness. “And… I would appreciate if you were there with me.”

“Of course! I’m so glad we’re friends now.”

Seles didn’t exactly admit to that, but she couldn’t deny that the idea was a bit tempting. She never had another friend her age…

Before she knew it, Colette linked her arm with Seles, and with a strength that belied her appearance, she guided the other girl back to the lobby. “Let’s go then!”

“I… Is this what friends do?!” she asked, already being dragged away.

But she didn’t pull out of the hold, or refuse Colette’s help when she felt her own steps begin to falter.

Perhaps asking for aid wasn’t as much of a weakness as she once feared.

#tales of symphonia #seles wilder #colette brunel #tokunaga symphonia #zelos wilder #fanfiction #one shot

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kaiqarker · 3 years ago

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the watchtower’s lighthouse | stan vogel

pairing: stan vogel x reader

warnings: smut, swearing

summary: months after a disasterous first date with stan vogel, your paths cross once more when you’re lost within the depths of kern canyon national park during a thunderstorm and stan happens to have inherited a shift patrolling from the watchtower.

a/n: back from the dead because of this man. hope y’all enjoy :)

THE SKY EMULATED STAN VOGEL'S morals, consisting of gray unpredictability. If he was within the familiar walls of his assigned cabin, located along the grounds of Kern Canyon National Park, it would be an indication he wouldn't have to do much patrolling. Campers usually stayed put if there was rainfall, sticking to their own site and not off doing God knows what to the land Stan takes pride in preserving. Cascading a thick husk of superiority and knowledge was his favorite thing about the job, which is why he was disappointed he was stuck maintaining the watchtower for tonight.

The surveillance for the watchtower was run by a tight knit schedule of volunteers and the occasional firefighter that needed a change of scenery for a couple days. Needless to say with all the strange occurrences and sightings, there have been less and less people willing to take on the task. And now the duty was bestowed upon the park ranger— at least for tonight. He swore to himself that at sunrise he would be out of there and back to being the persistent, vexing gum stuck to the bottom of everyone's shoe.

Stan now sat in a wobbly chair, feet propped up on the desk and his trusty binoculars in hand. His surroundings were darkening, quicker than they would at his cabin because of the parade of trees towering over the area. He could mostly only see shadows and the outlines of the forest. His paranoia kept him on the lookout, knowing all too well what kind of perilous entities the park harbored, dark secrets he was trusted in keeping.

It was why his body jolted and he nearly fell out of his seat at a sign of movement. His hands itched to drop the binoculars and reunite with the shotgun propped up in the corner. His burst of anxiety was halted, however, once the lenses revealed a person. A wandering, soaked person clearly becoming victim to the thunderstorm that had been periodically easing and worsening for the past two hours.

Stan stood, walking over to the window with his binoculars hanging from the strap around his neck. He easily pried it open and stuck out his head. The drizzle of rain didn't reach him because of the roof stretching out along the perimeter of the watchtower, but he still felt the dip in the temperature. He estimated that it had dropped at least fifteen degrees since the start of the storm, the disappearance of the sun only escalating the drafty change.

He was about to shout down at what is most certainly a woman who had strayed too far from her campsite but then she twisted around, finally noticing the light emitting from up above. Recognization crumbles both of their attentive expressions. She becomes more than a drenched, carmine tank top, huddled body, and ropes of wet hair. He transforms into the exact opposite of a saving grace when his beige uniform and ironically angelic face are perceived.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Stalking your ex, eh?" Stan called down to her. The pattern of swift and drawned out words, swirled into a provoking and often mocking Australian accent, reached her ears over the light patter of rainfall.

She sighed, dramatically enough for Stan to see the rise and fall of her diaphragm. She considered turning around and braving the unknown of the wilderness again. If it wasn't for her sore feet and her prediction that she would develop some sort of hyperthermia if she stayed out in the cold, then she would've already been on her way.

"We went out on one date. You don't count as an ex," she clarified, craning her neck up at him. His smirk from knowing she was in a miserable condition and that he was the only one that could do anything about it ignited the first sense of heat she had felt in awhile. Her fists clenched against her crossed arms. "And you're the one with the pervy binoculars. On the prowel for half-naked campers, are you?"

He scoffed, winding his head to the side for a moment. "Enough with the bullshit. Are you coming up or not?"

In any other situation, he probably would've dragged their reunion out, teased her for being so helpless and naive. But she was shivering and looked so small curling into herself; it was a sight that played his heartstrings like a mystical harp. Even after a date gone wrong and the resentment that followed, he couldn't bare to see her like this.

She, on the other hand, still clung to some hesitation. Cozying up in a small, confined space with Stan where there were no other people around to ground her into the realms of sanity wasn't a compelling option. The both of them simply didn't get along. The nightmare of their date was very vivid in her mind, too, and she didn't want tonight to be a repeat of that.

Almost like nature could sense her doubts, thunder crackled and reverberated around the forest. Lightning flashed, incandescent and forbiding. The rain intensified, hitting her bare skin with a harsh force. Muddy shoes stumble forward a few steps but still don't gravitate towards the ladder.

"Better move your ass, sweetheart! Unless you'd prefer to get struck by lightning? Not to mention all the dangerous things lurking around that you haven't the slightest idea about."

Undeniable complacency was weaved into his taunt. However, it did get her moving. If she would've bothered to look up or if there wasn't such vast distance between them from their differing heights, she might've seen the concern nestled into glimmering, cobalt eyes.

Suffering through a climb where her wobbly legs and white knuckles were put the use, she eventually made it to top. Stan already had the latch swung open, bent down in the center of the room and waiting for her with an outstretched arm. Reluctantly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her inside the watchtower.

"Crickey, you're freezing," he murmured. There was a softness to his features and the low timber of his voice. He'd even began rubbing over her fingers with his own, attempting to summon some warmth back into him, before he realized what he was doing and backed away.

"That's what happens when you get lost and separated from your friends and then get caught up in a storm," she summed up, monotonous.

"Your friends are idiots," Stan muttered.

She was about to deter the insults back his way until she suddenly felt a subtle weight on her shoulders. The scent combination of spearmint gum and lingering campfire smoke was sensed with a mere sniffle, and soon her hands were reaching up to pull on the sage green trim of his coat.

"You don't even know them," she settled for saying.

"They let you get lost, didn't they?" Stan's eyes found her wide ones, squinting slightly in familiar anger, but she could tell—this time at least—it wasn't directed towards her. "Yeah, bunch of mates, they are."

It was her turn to break the intimacy blossoming between them. She disconnects their stare that was inevitably going to convey all the unspoken feelings that still flourished inside of her to spare a glance over his shoulder. The furnace filled with a burning stack of dry wood lures her away from Stan, and she kneels down in front of it.

His hands go to his belt, elbows bent outward like he was posing as a chicken. He was unsettled by how consumed he was by his emotions. He wanted to give her space but then he finds himself reaching for her. He wanted to remain civil but the distaste in her tone and her infuriating, unreasonable glare casted towards him causes him to delve into his own hostile urges. The confusion of what to do and how to deal with her presence was boardering on insufferable.

But facing her, watching her beneath the firelight, the strain of his internal compass ebbed. He was no longer directionless or purposeless. The orange glare enducing a riveting shine to her hair and her tranquil countenance she upheld gazing into the flames had him feeling certain in just about every single thing that made the universe, the universe.

"You're staring," she whispers, a tremble in her reply she blames on recovering from the weather.

"And you won't even look over at me for a second." His observation coaxes her into peering at him, finding that he enclosed the distance between them by a few steps. A playful smile twitches across his lips. "What? Don't like a man in uniform?"

"I wouldn't be bragging about your outfit, Stan. You're a glorified Boy Scout," she remarks, rising from her position on her knees. Her thumb and pointer finger pinch the small, golden slate pinned to his shirt. "Even have badges and everything,"

"Get your grubby little hands away from my name tag. You're gonna smudge it," he grumbles, smacking her hand away; she lets out a humorless, short-lived laugh at his overreaction.

"Still an uptight asshole, I see."

"Still a mouthy brat, then?"

His retort makes her face harden. "Being honest doesn't make me a mouthy brat."

"Just inconsiderate?"

"You're preaching to me about being inconsiderate? You live off of ridiculing people. On our date, you insulted and humiliated our waiter because he didn't know the exact species of deer mounted to the wall."

"I was just taking a moment to educate him!"

"You called him a fumbling idiot who didn't know the basic fundamentals of biology!"

"Oh, like you were any better! Shoving your tits into the bartender's face to get free drinks!" He throws his hands up, easily overtaken by frustration and unresolved jealously.

"I know how much you make, Stan. You should be thanking me for that," she says slowly, deliberately, bringing up the one thing she knows will push him over the edge. He takes the bait, but she doesn't expect what he throws back at her.

"You're right. Thank you, sweetheart, for acting like such a slut on our first date that all anyone had to do for dessert was crouch down between your open legs."

Her mouth dropped at his statement. His exasperation dissolves to shock at processing his own harsh comment. He isn't able to focus on it for long, though, because she properly acts by allowing her palm to connect to his cheek.

Head snapped to the side, he can begin to taste a droplet of blood on his tongue, emitting from where his incisor pinched his bottom lip. He licks over the minor wound thoughtfully, heaving out a breath of false amusement. When he looks at her again, his face is dark and full of cruel intentions of revenge.

Stan surges forward and doesn't stop until her body crashes against the wall like she was just a bag of dismantled bones. His coat falls from her shoulders and slumps against the hardwood floor during the journey. His towering height and weight pin her in place, leaving her at the mercy of splayed hands and the relentless motions of his mouth against hers.

The awakening, leftover flavor of gum he must've chewed eariler just sinks in when he bites down hard on her lip. A whimper, the first sound she makes besides the ejection of a surprised gasp, is forced out her from the harsh gesture. A metallic taste replaces the one prior, one eager swipe of his tongue rolling past her parted lips.

The instinct to shoot her hands up and enmesh them in the soft, chestnut strands of his cropped hair is interrupted by an action of his own. He eases the intensity of the kiss, allowing her to breathe through languid, desperate puckers she reciprocates, but his fingers hook around both her bra and tank top straps, yanking them down her arms. She lifts herself out of them only to have him grasp the collar of her shirt and pull it down, her bra in tow, until they were just bundled material around her midriff.

Calloused hands fondled her breasts while his mouth diverts to her neck, sucking and nipping until her skin resembled the colorful patches of a quilt. She throws her head back against the wall, leaning into his touch and letting out the most delicate moans that had all of his blood gushing to the apex of his legs; she felt proof of it when he rutted himself against her.

Her forearms are squeezed between their bodies so she can reach the buttons of his shirt, manicured fingers working hastily and with not as much care she knew Stan would've liked, but he seemed to be too preoccupied by kissing her all over. Soon her hands were tugging up the white t-shirt he always wore underneath his uniform, and he helped her out by shifting it over his head and discarding it to the growing pile of clothes.

His chest was warm and inviting compared to hers. Her skin felt like cool marble underneath his fingertips, keeping her nipples pebbled and sweat from the heated exchange at bay. It was quite a contrast as their bodies continued to press together, her hands sliding along the expanse of his taut back while he concentrated on undoing her shorts.

"All mine," he mumbled against her jaw; it was certainly hard to disagree with him and all his handsy clutches and kisses that left her craving more.

"All yours," she confirmed softly.

The words barely left her mouth before she felt the heart-jolting sensation that was his hand sliding past her unzipped shorts and underwear. His fingers ran up and down down her folds, taking his time, ever the explorer. He often grazed her clit, encouraging her hips to arch into him for more direct contact, but he was careful to only give her a slight, fleeting amount.

"Stan." His name parted from her in a low whine—somewhat shamefully because she never thought she'd be in this circumstance, begging a hardass park ranger with a major superiority complex for a release.

"So wet for me. Awful naughty of you to get this soaked from one arguement with me, don't you think?"

She nuzzled her face into the side of his, nose brushing along his chiseled cheekbone. "Please."

"Aw, look at you. So sweet. You'd never think that you live to slander me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am nothing but nice to you."

"Oh?" He inserts his middle finger into her, curling it precisely, while the heel of his hand grinds against her clit with every deliberate pump.

"Yes," she gasps.

Shallow pants gradually rack through her torso, and the ache of his throbbing cock becomes unbearable at the sight of her defenseless against his advances. He adds another finger, the grip and warmth of her slick walls causing him to shudder in anticipation.

"Such a little liar," he groans out after a particularly provocative contraction around his digits, one that rids him of whatever patience he had left.

He abruptly removes his hand from her shorts, something that makes her closed eyes flicker open. Her mouth immediately morphs into a pout and she squeezes his biceps in protest.

She isn't left waiting for long, hands on her hips guiding her away from the wall until the underside of her knees hit the edge of a cot. His mouth parts from hers once more, a sweet dragging of overlapped lips exchanged during the slow steps, so he can pull back the blanket. She looks over her shoulder at the neatly presented cot, which Stan must've brought with him along with his own fitted bedspread. She was now appreciative that he always came prepared.

Without having to be told, she crawled underneath the covers after ridding herself of the remainder of her clothing. Stan did the same once she was settled, becoming the final layer that draped over her body. The blanket and the crisp white of a top sheet stopped at the dimples of his back, and she was trapped in warmth, intensified by the glorious weight of his bare body on hers. Arms on either side of her head latch the cage as he leans down for another kiss.

"Don't mistake me keeping you warm as forgiveness. I'm still very mad at you. You drive me crazy," he sighs against her jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against the apple of her cheek.

"Don't mistake me moaning for you as an apology. You don't deserve one." Her strokes at the nape of his neck never faltered. Her thighs spread, legs winding around his, desperate for him to do something with his cock that laid twitching and swollen on her navel. "Well, you might if you fuck me hard enough."

"Shut up already."

Long fingers brick over her parted mouth in time with the repositioning of his hips, muffling the cries of consumption that came from him sinking inside of her. Eyes roll to the back of her head, almost completely sated by just the feeling of being filled. The head of his shaft glided against her most sensitive spot like a brush of shoulders, and her thighs tightening around his waist was her turning around, ready to chase shattering gratification.

Although slow, his thrusts into her were brutal. They held onto to each other like you would to ropes of a ruinous bridge connecting two cliffs, like they would be faced with a plummeting death if they were to let go. And yet, they were fighting along the wobbly planks, the semicircles of hip bones clashing together like medieval swords. It was all extremes, but neither of them would have it any other way.

He was making the most beautiful sounds above her. Through his ruthless motions, were breathy moans and whines of her name, the occasional praise intertwined into his enticing responses. Eventually, he allowed his hand to stop sealing her lips, sliding it down to clutch the flesh of her thigh with the promise of bruises. Her soft pleas and moans of euphoria joined his to create a symphony worthy of a ballet orchestra.

Strings of saliva conntected rouge lips to the marked skin of his neck, where she continued to suckle and playfully nip. The roll of their bodies picked up speed, both becoming impatient by the delicious ache they kept provoking, daring one another to spasm out of control. They craved for their muscles to become a tightrope and for the most intimate parts of them to pulsate from the finality of release.

"You've never looked prettier than you do right now. Your cunt squeezing me so tight, your mouth only able to form breathless whispers... completely wrecked. I love it."

"Please," she cannot help but beg, flickering eyes undecided on whether to shut her continue their hazy, half-lidded stare into his own.

"You want to come?" The inward pull of his eyebrows and the slight curl of his parted mouth way as well have been a mocking pout. "I know you do. I shouldn't even let you, though. You've been intolerable. I should just come all over your writhing body and leave you here without any satisfaction. Even if you were to finish yourself off, it wouldn't be enough. It would only feel subpar, and you know that, don't you?" His breath fans her face like the furnace had moments ago, and she can only whimper in reply. "Only I can sate you, sweetheart."

Her hands, whose nails had already inflicted damage to the freckled canvas of his back, sweep over his shoulders to cup his jaw. Her thumb strokes his jawline while the other ventures down the column of his throat, feeling the bob of his adam's apple with every constristing swallow he took. She could tell he was close, too, and decided to nod her head gently in agreement to his words, to wave her white flag.

Her surrender is reassured by fingertips dragging down her torso to her enlarged clit, granting bone-vanishing swipes that causes stuttered gasps and limbs going slack. It only takes a few seconds of coaxing rubbing for her release to erupt, the molten lava bursting from the pit of her stomach to electrify just about every nerve in her body. Her encompassing walls clutch around him so tightly that it summons a delirious climax from him.

His strenuous pace wavers, his hold on the cot becoming prudent, as if it was a buoy keeping him afloat through the thrashing waves of pleasure. White, sticky ribbons coat the inside of her thighs, and it's only when his heartbeat ebbs from his eardrums that he cracks his eyes open and collaspes into the small remaining space between her and the wall.

Stan speaks after catching his breath, remaining pants interwoven into his declaration. "This should've happened sooner."

"It would've if you weren't such a prick," she noted, sparing him a quick glance.

"Okay, maybe... I wasn't on my best behavior. But I was nervous. I liked you a lot. I wanted to impress you."

"And you thought bragging about how you're a know-it-all when it comes to plants and wildlife and the park's terrain was going to the trick?"She questioned, snorting at his logic. His nose twitch, an indicator of embarrassment, and she grabs his arm and tucks herself into his side. "You're such a dork."

He smiled at the gesture before she continued, "I'm sorry that I flirted with the bartender. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were second best or anything. Honest to God, I just wanted free stuff."

"Well, the cream puffs you got out of it were actually delicious," Stan admitted, tilting his head in her direction.

She smiled back at him. "I know, right?"

Stan may not be a prime example of a good guy but he had always took glory in being good at his job. That's what kept him going, that's what fueled him all these years. Now, he was considering what life entailed outside of that. Outside of the stressful responsibilities and government conspiracies and the never-ending studious tendencies. She came to him for refuge tonight, but, the truth is, he had been relying on her for a long time. To fascinate him, to stand up to him, to guide him back to where he belonged.

He felt like he was finally pursuing something that was more important than his duties here, than anything else he's ever experienced. He was an off-bound ship, cruising blind into the dead of the night, and she was a lighthouse, promising purpose and salvation from every bad thing that ever tried to sink him.

// idk who to tag but i think @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme & @instinctsxbaby might be interested (you’re all so talented)!

#ahs #cody fern #american horror story #american horror stories #stan vogel #stan vogel smut #cody fern smut #xavier plympton smut #ahs stories #stan vogel x reader

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akaashisupremacy · 4 years ago

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A Little in Love

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with him, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo begin as friends again, he wonders if he ever fell out of love for you. Has he?

Notes: Gojo Satoru is good-looking, all powerful and beyond good at his job. I’ve always wanted to explore something he struggles with

Gojo Satoru x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol (wc: 1.3k) tw: mention of blood, infedelity-ish

“Are you sure you’re not in love with them?”

That question wipes the smile off Gojo Satorou’s face.

Tonight’s dinner was unexpected. You ran into Shoko Ieri, Jujutsu Kaisen’s resident doctor and Gojo Satoru just as your work day ended. One thing led to another and the three of you ended up in a soba place not too far from Jujutsu Tech. When you excused yourself to use the washroom Ieri-san grabs the chance to ask the burning question on her mind.

“So what’s the answer? You’re awfully quiet.”

“We’re not engaged anymore. That ship has sailed.” he waves his hand dismissively.

Ieri rolls her eyes. All throughout dinner, Gojo was teasing you, offering you food, playing light pranks at you just like he was when you were teenagers. The way he looked at you was enough to tick any off about how he feels.

She retorts, “You can try again now that you’re adults. You’re allowed to make a go at a love match.”

Gojo’s relationship with you is…complicated. You two were arranged to be married when you were children, but had broken up as teenagers.

Gojo looks contemplative, his hands clasped together.

“I’ve thought about it.” he sighs, “And I think about it every time we meet, but—I don’t think I’m the type to commit and they need a commitment type. It’s not a match.” Ieri scowls on your behalf.

During your time at Jujutsu Tech, he simultaneously wanted to give your relationship a shot but hated the restrictions set on him. In the end, it was all too much. Both of you begged your families to break off the engagement.

Your teenage years with him were confusing. Were you really in love or those feelings fabricated by the arranged marriage? If the marriage wasn’t a love match anyway, why did it hurt to see Gojo flirt with someone else?

Gojo remembered one of your early confrontations when you were 16 and he was 17.

“It’s difficult to be engaged to you.” you expressed, exasperated.

When you started school at Jujutsu Tech however, something changed. Gojo didn’t want to be seen around you. He was always flirting with others behind your back. You can’t even have a proper conversation with him alone.

During your second year, you finally stood up to him.

“No, it’s not.” he rolled his eyes, “You don’t even have to pretend that you like me.”

It worried you that he definitely couldn’t be faithful and it hurt you that he couldn’t even spare time to properly talk with you.

You sighed and looked left and right. It’s had been ten minutes. You were still standing outside his dorm room and he has not intention of letting you in.

“It’s not about that!” you exclaimed, annoyed, “I know you don’t like being engaged to me, which is fine—“

“It doesn’t sound fine,” he snorts, crossing his arms. He tries to drown the sound of your voice from the surrounding cicadas.

“—if you weren’t such an asshole,” you continued, “But can you at least treat me with more respect. Everybody knows we’re engaged. Neither of us want to be in arranged marriage so all I’m begging you to do is to —“

He shrugs, “No promises.”

He could see anger light beneath your eyes. Out of the darkness of the night, a silver flicker brushes by his side. You were seething, despite being barely illuminated by the light of the corridor bulbs.

You had drawn out a dagger at him. You! His kind, patient fiancee. It happened so fast he almost didn’t dodge.

“I missed on purpose. Don’t you get complacent.” you muttered, turning away.

Gojo was surprised to see tears running down your face. You’ve never looked so upset. It catches him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” was all he had to utter. He wasn’t even sure you heard him because you had already begun walking away. You had drawn the blade, but in reality it was you that was hurting and he the trespasser.

He shakes his head at Ieri and continues, “I don’t want to hurt them again. It was bad enough when our engagement fell apart.”

He didn’t mean to hurt you then of course. It was harsh to expect commitment out of a teenager who wasn’t ready, but you were still in pain.

Ieri sizes him up in the dim lighting of the diner. Gojo likes to be in control. He likes to be the one to set traps. It’s interesting to see him be the captive for once.

“You haven’t answered my question.” she presses.

Gojo’s fingers tense up.he gives in just a bit, “I’ll always be a little in love with them. Maybe because I was obligated to for so long.”

“And that’s not enough though, because they deserve more” he quickly adds.

“Can’t you change? Sounds like you’re afraid to try.” she sighs.

Gojo is quiet once again.

“Don’t wait for them to be in love with someone else before you realize that you want to be with them. I’d hate for you to be too late.” she warns, glancing towards you as you walk back to the table.

He looks away from Ieri. You sit back down in front of him.

He feels his heart swell and hurt at the same time. You’ve always represented a jumble of contradictions for him: someone to love and someone who represents traditions he hates.

“Did I miss something?” you ask, sensing the tension.

“No, nothing.” he denies, his voice purposely lightening to cover his mood.

“Well, why does everyone look so serious?” you perkily ask.

Gojo briefly glances at you. His shoulders relax and he sits back into his seat. After all these years, it’s still so easy to be swayed by your bright eyes.

“I was just about to call for another drink.” Ieri clears her throat.

“Me, too.” he adds.

You look at him carefully, a tinge of worry in your eyes. You don’t say anything though. Not now. This is between you and him. It’s a matter outside of your friendship with Ieri.

“You can have my drink.” you offer to him, eyes locked onto his.

Sensing your stare, he turns back at you, glad that his bandages cover his vulnerability. He’s not sure he can take it if you saw how deeply conflicted he was about his feelings. As he continues to look, recognition dawns on him.

In another universe, you could be married right now. You’d be having dinner, just the two of you, sitting across each other like this. In another world, maybe you wouldn’t have known each other at all. This moment feels like purgatory. He’s somewhat in love, just a little and you’re not his in a way that feels real.

You push your drink into his hands. Ieri looks away to give you a semblance of privacy. Gojo finally takes the drink.

It feels strange for the man who has everything, to know he only has a little bit of you.

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

General taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan@kaizumi@holaaaf@glxar@francxsca

Series Taglist: @kageyamakock @gucci-froggy @cherryonigiri

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check it here. This is 2/4 so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the rest of the releases! 😊

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines

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minor-solemnity · 4 years ago

Text

To Be a Seer pt.5

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @empath-bunny

You’re not naive enough to believe that Tom doesn’t have his own motivations, that he isn’t pulling the strings of public opinion for his own ends, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re interested. The mystery he presents, the truth of who and what he is… And maybe this is naive of you, but everything you’ve Seen has related to him and you refuse to believe that that doesn’t matter. Your finely honed instincts for self-preservation have well and truly flown out of the window when it comes to Tom.

He is, quite literally, your dream boy. Of course, you’re going to throw caution to the wind

There have been no new petrifications in the three weeks since you ran into Riddle outside the Prefects’ bathroom. You would have hoped that the lack of new attacks would do something to calm the student populace down a little, but it seems the opposite is true. The atmosphere in the corridors and the Great Hall is tense and uncomfortable. It’s as though everyone is waiting on tenterhooks for something to happen. Even the professors, who are all trying to put on a brave facade, are concerned. Your Heads of Houses have taken to sitting in on prefect meetings, reminding you all that it’s your job to make sure the rest of the students are safe. Despite the vastness of the castle and grounds, Hogwarts feels claustrophobic.

It’s at one of these meetings, on an otherwise nondescript Monday evening, that Dumbledore asks you to stay behind. You can’t quite hide the mix of surprise and reluctance that crosses your face at his request, though Dumbledore just continues to smile in that slightly unsettling way of his. You think of the way he’s looked at you in the past, as though he can see through all your defences and knows that you’re hiding something. He looks at you as though he doesn’t trust you. You’ve never liked being looked at like that, especially by someone for who you’ve never given any reason to doubt your integrity.

Next to you, Riddle stiffens slightly in his chair and you don’t like that either. Because this is real. Everything up until this point, you could minimise and justify. You’ve been tricking yourself into complacency for weeks, months even, why both telling the professors your suspicions about Tom when you don’t have proof?

You nod mutely and stay behind whilst everyone else files out of the room. Once you’re alone, Dumbledore smiles. “Please, take a seat, I wouldn’t want you to get sore feet, heaven knows that is an ailment that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” You sit down and he stays standing, and, whilst his posture is casual, hands clasped in front of him, the height difference makes you feel anxious, like a small child about to be chastised. “Now, I imagine you’re wondering why I wanted to talk with you?” You nod and he smiles, “An easy question to answer, I’m glad to say. I’m wondering how you’ve been since the day we found poor Miss Wheatley. I apologise for not checking in on you sooner, though I daresay, young Mr Riddle has been making his shoulder available to cry on, should you need it.” You don’t miss the way his gaze sharpens at the mention of Riddle’s name.

Whatever he might say, you’re certain that Dumbledore doesn’t care about how you’re holding up. He suspects something, and his mention of Riddle makes you worry that he suspects that the two of you are in cahoots. The thought would be laughable except… Well, you’ve been keeping his secret for him, haven’t you? You could have gone to Dumbledore at any point and told him what you know. He’d believe you. He’s probably the only member of staff that isn’t fooled by the act that Riddle puts on.

This is your chance. Your chance to come clean and stop all this madness.

“Tom’s been very helpful,” Is what you end up saying. You don’t meet his gaze but your voice doesn’t waver either. “He’s, ahh, really made me feel quite looked after.” And the thing is, you’re not lying. Even if his motivations are suspicious, he has looked after you and made you feel oddly safe. You’re not sure what to think of it. Judging by the darkness that flashes ever so briefly across Dumbledore’s expression, he isn’t either.

There’s something about the way that he watches you - congenial and sympathetic - that you neither like nor trust. “Trust is a wonderful and strange thing - it can help build even the most difficult of bridges. You two have grown quite close, haven’t you?” You frown at the question and have half a mind to tell him that it is entirely inappropriate to ask about one’s students’ dating habits. More than that, it feels like he’s speaking in innuendo, every word out of his mouth has a double meaning and whilst you can’t figure out what he’s trying to tell you, you’re fairly certain that it’s nothing good.

“I guess you could say that, Professor.” You try to keep your answer as vague as possible because you know what people are saying, you know that the rumour mill has gone into overdrive regarding you and Riddle. There are plenty of girls in Hogwarts who would try anything to snag a date with him but until now, Riddle has shown little interest in anyone. The fact that he is displaying such outward devotion to you speaks volumes to anyone paying attention. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make your pulse quicken, didn’t send a fission of fire - too fierce and feral to be considered innocent, down your spine. You’d be lying if you said that there isn’t a part of you that enjoys the attention, enjoys the way he looks at you like he doesn’t quite understand you but wants to.

He is, quite literally, your dream boy. Of course, you’re going to throw caution to the wind.

Your brevity doesn’t seem to bother him and you’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. You don’t have time to overthink the issue though, because Dumbledore asks, “Before I bid you goodnight, is there anything else you wish to talk with me about?” He lowers his head slightly as he talks like he’s trying to catch your gaze, and you’re not sure why but you feel goosebumps prick your skin and the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You keep your eyes averted, directed just beyond his left shoulder, counting the cracks in the stone walls as you attempt to keep your nerves in check.

You push yourself up from your chair and turn to walk towards the door. “No, Professor. Like I said, I’ve been doing alright and Tom is just looking out for me.” It feels foreign and strange, though not necessarily unwelcome, to refer to him by his first name. It feels like another one of your carefully erected barriers, designed to keep you safe, is in the process of being demolished with all the grace of a mountain troll on a rampage.

You’re half expecting Tom to be waiting for you, but he’s isn’t and relief wells in your chest. You have some soul-searching to do and you’re not sure if you’d be able to face him right now. It’s only once you’re back in the safety of your dorm that you finally allow yourself to fully comprehend what has just happened. Students are being attacked and you’re fairly certain you’ve just aligned yourself with their attacker.

***

Three days later, at seven o’clock in the evening, you enter the entrance hall in a hurry. You’d been caught up in a lengthy conversation with Lucas about whether or not he should ask Deliah Bowers on a date and now you’re running slightly late for your prefect rounds. As you skid into the entrance hall, you see that Tom is already waiting for you. He’s sitting on one of the benches by the entrance to the dungeons, head bowed over a small book which he’s writing in, his legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and you take a moment to admire the lean line of his body, the elegant curve of his neck, the way he taps the end of his fountain pen in thought when he pauses in his writing. You’re reminded of why he has the reputation that he does; sitting there he looks like the embodiment of a perfect student: smart, quiet and, dedicated.

If only they all knew.

He looks up sharply at the sound of your approaching footsteps and snaps the book shut. “Evening,” You say and promptly flush at the way your voice comes out a little higher than usual, a little uncertain. It’s ridiculous, Tom has treated you the same since your impromptu meeting with Dumbledore, hasn’t asked you about it at all, but you still feel nervous around him, as though you’ve given him a reason to distrust you, as though you’ve let him down somehow. You offer him a small smile, your gaze sliding to his hands and his slender fingers which are capping his pen with deft precision. It’s really quite unfair that he can make even the most mundane of actions look so refined. “What were you writing?” His expression shifts slightly, becomes perfectly clear and smooth and you wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary when he shakes his head and raises the book to the light.

It’s a small, thin diary, bound in black leather with his name monogrammed on the cover. It looks well-used but cared for, much like the rest of his belongings you realise. Now that you think of it, his robes and textbooks all share the same tell-tale traits of hand-me-downs, but he hasn’t any siblings. For the first time since you’ve known him, you begin to wonder who Tom is exactly, who his parents are, what his history is. You’ve been so focused on uncovering his future that you’ve quite forgotten to pay attention to his past.

The diary looks fairly expensive though and you wonder if it was a gift or if he had saved up to buy himself something he could be proud of owning. “My diary,” He says at last, his voice shaking you from your train of thought. “I bought it over the summer and have grown rather fond of it.” He pauses and then adds, “I suppose you could say it’s the only thing I’ve ever bared my soul to.”

Something in the way he smiles suggests he’s thought of something rather amusing, but you’re stuck on his choice of words. Without knowing why dread coils tight in your stomach. You shake the feeling off as the pair of you begin patrolling the corridors. For twenty minutes or so, you make idle chit-chat, discussing the lessons you share and the finer points on an ongoing debate between two Ancient Runes academics.

“Why the fountain pen?” You’re honestly surprised to see him use one. Quills are standard practice in the wizarding world, and whilst you have your own thoughts on their practicality, you’re shocked that Tom might feel the same way. Given his feelings towards muggleborns, you’re a little confused that he would willingly use something so muggle.

He hums in response to the question and casts you a sideways glance, amusement writ clear on his features. You get the distinct impression that he knows what you’re thinking and finds the whole thing rather droll. “Do you take issue with my using one?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just surprised.”

“That I would prefer to use an instrument far more practical than a quill simply because the person who invented it was a muggle? I wouldn’t have taken you for a blood purist.” You bristle at his words and he raises an eyebrow, evidently having fun toying with you.

“I’m not.” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Honestly, the nerve of him to accuse you of being a blood purist when he’s the one attacking muggle-borns. (You carefully don’t think about the fact that you are essentially condoning his behaviour by not stepping in when you have been given every opportunity to do so.) “I’m surprised that you’d see it that way because you’re the one who’s—”

“The one who has been what?” He cuts you off, and though his tone remains friendly, there’s a sharpness in his gaze and a tightness around the corners of his mouth that immediately puts you on edge. You swallow roughly, and the sudden desire to run away is almost overwhelming. When you don’t say anything, he stops walking and turns to face you fully. In the dim light, shadows dance along the dagger’s edge of his jawline. He is beautiful and terrifying and you can see the cracks in his visage where the boy becomes a man and the man becomes a monster. It probably says something about you that in this light, you find him all the more alluring.

He takes a single step towards you, graceful and predacious and you find yourself tensing as some primordial instinct overtakes you. Fight or flight except for the part of you that wants to run is diminishing by the second and the reckless desire to hook your fingers into the hollows of his collarbones and crack him open until you can see every part of him grows.

One thing is for certain: Tom is bad for your health.

“Don’t you think it’s time we stop this charade?” You lift your head to meet his impossibly dark eyes. You’re afraid but you’re past caring. “We both know what you’ve been up to. Why pretend that we don’t?” Something twists in his eyes, heat and anger and maybe a little bit of fear, but there’s also something else… Something bright and curious and pleased. You find that the most unsettling thing of all.

“You haven’t told Dumbledore.” It’s not a question, just a statement of fact and one that he obviously enjoys saying out loud. He stares down at you, smiling in a way that is not at all friendly. You’re reminded of the way Dumbledore had tried so hard to catch your gaze, though unlike with your transfiguration professor, you don’t look away from Tom. “Why is that I wonder? And, more importantly, how did you figure it out?” He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of breath fan across your cheeks, sending a bright spark of… something down your spine.

You don’t particularly want to answer either of his questions, but you know that he won’t let it go. He’s been being patient with you, you realise, waiting until a moment like this, when you’re alone and unguarded to interrogate you. The question is why? Actually, the question is how do you avoid answering him? It’s a little hard to think clearly with him so close to you and, judging by the small smirk that plays on his lips, you’re fairly certain he knows it too. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.” Which is the truth. It’s just not the whole truth. “As for your other question, well, I guess you’re not as difficult to read as you think you are.” Again, it’s not technically a lie, though how likely Tom is to agree with you is up for debate.

Tom’s stance grows stiff, a long line of barely contained anger and his eyes narrow. You wonder if it’s because you won’t tell him everything, or if it’s because the thought of being known and seen scares him. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither. Regardless, you feel as though you’re breathing water with how thick and heavy the air has grown around the two of you. “You don’t know anything,” He whispers, his voice is soft and low and you might describe it as sensuous if it weren’t for the way that he’s looking at you. Anger and fear coalescing and colliding in the dark pits of his pupils.

Something inside of you breaks. Tom is bad for your health. He makes you reckless and brave and that is sure to spell disaster. You laugh, and it’s not friendly. You’re not happy. You laugh and the sound is a bell toll, a chime of hysteria and disbelief. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t know anything.” And that… That is a lie. The more you find out about Tom the more you want to uncover. It’s a feral kind of hunger that overtakes and consumes you without you wanting it to. Just as he had ten minutes earlier, you take a step towards him and you’re so close that you can practically feel the tension that is rolling off of him. Your eyes trace the taught tendons in his neck, and clench of his fists, the pinched line of his lips. Something that could be glee flares deep inside you when his expression cracks, just a little, just enough for you to see surprise flit through his eyes.

He takes a step back. It feels like a victory. He looks wrong-footed, as though he is entirely unprepared for you to turn aggressor in this situation and you realise that Tom is probably aware of the effect that he has on people, has probably learnt how to wield his beauty and his intimidating personality in equal measure to get what he wants. You’re pretty sure that no one has ever called him on his bluff before. Because he was bluffing, you’re certain of that now. You can see the way nervousness plays in the barely-there shifting of his weight and in the way he’s leaning back ever so slightly. It makes you feel powerful. It makes you want to reach out and take and hold until you’re imprinted on his skin.

You don’t do any of those things. You let the tension simmer and you smile, something bitter and cynical and maybe a little taunting and then you push past him. You still have half a castle to patrol but you’re not sure you can stand to be near him right now, not until you’ve calmed down enough to sort your thoughts out. “I’ll meet you at the library,” You call over your shoulder and you’re only a little disappointed when he doesn’t follow.

***

Outside, the night air is cool against your flushed skin and you feel calmer before you’ve even lit your cigarette. You sit at the top of the steps that lead up to the castle and thumb your lighter impatiently, breathing in tobacco and nicotine and smoke. You’re not expecting to See anything in the smoke tonight - the inner eye doesn’t do well with an agitated mind and you’re too worked up to meditate. Which is why it’s all the more surprising when the smoke hangs in the air, unnaturally thick and still.

Tom is bad for your health. But you already knew that.

The phantom boy emerges from the smoke and this time, he’s clearer, more defined, a smokey apparition of bad omens to come. You watch in a trancelike state as the familiar scene plays out and the boy grows gaunt and haunted, breaking into seven until all that remains is a shade of a man, more ghoul than human. Each of the seven splinters begins to shake and you imagine that if smoke could make noise you’d hear screaming.

You’re startled from your reverie by Tom, who sits down next to you. The smoke collapses and you blink yourself back into reality. When you finally drag your gaze towards him you’re unsurprised to find that the full weight of his attention is focussed on you. He watches you with an intensity that makes the back of your neck prickle and your stomach drop to your knees. You see the instant that he puts it all together, you have a feeling he’s suspected for a while. And isn’t that a funny thing? You’ve been so focused on Seeing him, that you didn’t notice that he’s been seeing you the whole time too.

When he touches you though, his hands are tentative, like he’s unsure if he should, if he can, if he’s allowed. His fingers barely graze your skin, skittish and hesitant. But his touch is warm and human and you want him like this always. Whatever his future might be, you want him warm and human and whole.

“What did you See?”

(part1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle story #minific #harry potter #harry potter fic

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drxwsyni · 4 years ago

Text

Pumpkin Pie

Pairing: Yandere Dabi x f!Reader

Summary: With the fall season upon you, a longing settles as you yearn for the seasonal festivities. Unable to let you go, Dabi decides to bring the autumn warmth to you from the safety of his apartment.

a/n: I really can’t excuse my unhealthy obsession for fall and soft!yan dabi, this is just a byproduct of that.

Here’s the pumpkin pie recipe I referenced, along with the string lights I had in mind. Also feel free to listen to a soft yan dabi playlist I made while reading!

4.5k words

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, captivity, stockholm syndrome

_____

If you pressed your hand to the glass of the window, you’d be able to feel the chill of fall seeping through it. Cold to the touch, letting you know that the visual of warm reds, oranges and yellows against the trees were accompanied by the drop in temperature.

Whether you were thankful for it or not, such a frigidness did not occupy your space, fought off by the heat that Dabi provided. Nestled into the window seat, you were curled up under a blanket in his apartment. A small and discrete complex, nothing shabby in the slightest, nestled on the edge of town.

Eyes following the movements of nature outside, you could see the rustle of the trees, wind blowing and stirring fallen leaves on the ground. Perhaps you would open a window, listen to the howling against it’s frame, hear the tumbling of foliage below you. But, you knew the window was locked, the glass not pure and fragile, instead being clear acrylic that wouldn’t break no matter what you did.

How you longed to feel that fall breeze on your skin, the goosebumps it would bring only a welcomed sensation. To have the leaves crinkle underneath your feet, breaking apart and scattering along the pavement. Sure, from where you sat, you could take in the view of the autumnal changes for as long as you wanted, ease the ache with it’s scenery from one spot.

Only, that’s not what you wanted.

Seeing was nothing like feeling. And right now, all you felt was the stagnant air of your shared bedroom. It was warm, unmoving. No sounds of outside life carried through the apartment, such a thing completely shut out by locked doors and sealed windows.

The smell, however―it wasn’t exactly one of desired freedom, but you couldn’t deny that it was strangely fitting for the season. Like burnt wood, smokey and subduing. Dabi always carried a certain scent that honestly wasn’t quite one you minded. Even his cologne complimented the natural air of something distinctly smouldered. Not overpowering, and not something to be hated.

But right now, the way it went hand in hand with the fall aura―it only shot a pang of sadness through your heart. The worst part about it was that you couldn’t quite place where such a sensation came from.

Because even after everything that happened between you and Dabi, what he’d done to you, you couldn’t bring yourself to detest the man.

Dabi never hurts you, he loves you wholeheartedly, a passion reserved to be put on full display in your presence. He’d do anything for you, if it meant you’d be safe―if it meant you’d feel loved (by him, of course). His unwavering gentleness he used on you, and only you was the sole reason you found it difficult to explain why you felt such distress.

That painful seed planted in your being had been growing for weeks now, you none the wiser as to how to get it to pass. It didn’t do anything to make you want to abandon Dabi, to have you seeking an escape from his fortified protection.

What it did do was slowly overtake your mind, drowning you in its suffocating disquietness, leaving you less responsive with each passing day.

You’d been with Dabi since the end of last winter, and not seeing much point in denying the comfort he brought, or rather not being able to, it didn’t take long to adopt a certain complacency. That didn’t mean you were overjoyed to be stuck in his apartment though. Not even close, in fact. By now you were just used to it, existing in its space because it was the only thing you could do.

And yet in these few passing weeks, the small routine you’d formed had slipped into the dark cloudiness of the back of your mind, your once somewhat lively behaviour dulled down in the presence of an invisible weight.

You let yourself go to the unsettling and energy leeching feeling, not even noticing it was sapping all of your motivation to do much of anything.

Naturally though, Dabi was keenly aware of the change in your behaviour.

When you started sleeping in a little longer, he didn’t think twice about it. Thought maybe you needed the extra shut eye, hoping it would make you feel better. Each day you stayed in bed a little longer, and eventually he realized you weren’t even sleeping―just mindlessly staring out the window.

You gave a noncommittal response when he questioned you on it. Something stirred inside of you at the worried look in his eyes, the knit in his brows as he sat on the edge of the bed, you still under the heavy covers.

In that moment, the two of you were polar opposites.

Confused at the way his concern made you feel, but quickly moving on once he left you to your devices. And Dabi, remaining fixated on your lack of response, knowing exactly what was wrong despite the few words you offered him.

Since that day, he never bothered to ask you what in particular seemed to be getting you down. Instead, he did what he could to be there for you. Praising you for any small accomplishments, helping you take care of yourself. And, of course, giving you all the affection you could possibly need.

But even then, no amount of reassurances and gentle embraces altered your quieted mood.

While you felt less and less with each day, only the indescribably pit in your stomach a tangible emotion, Dabi grew more conflicted.

He couldn’t let you go out.

It pained him to no ends seeing you like this―suddenly a dull shell of a human that you used to be. And he was trying everything he could think of to make you feel better, yet still it was all for naught. He knew that you wanted to go outside, the one thing he couldn’t give you. Even though you’d been exceptionally good for him, it still wasn’t time for that to happen.

You weren’t stepping foot outside of his apartment anytime soon, which meant that there was no chance you’d be able to seek the environment that was causing you such anguish.

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring the fall festivities to you.

_____

Right now, it seemed your only routine consisted of getting lost in the passing day outside, curled up on the window seat as usual. Nothing was ever out of the ordinary like this.

So when the aroma of fresh baked goods wafted into the room, it stood out like a sore thumb.

The sounds of clinking utensils and shuffling in the kitchen normally faded into the background in your mind of wandering thoughts. Only now, the sound held a distinct forefront in your senses, sparking curiosity inside you.

Body moving on its own, your sock clad feet landed on the floorboards as you rose from your seat, abandoning the view from the window in favour of seeking that of the kitchen. You felt a little hesitant, more unsure of whether you really cared enough to find out what was happening, when you could just as easily resume your long houred and mindless behaviour.

However, whatever was baking in the oven had a stronger hold on you than the outside world at the moment.

Creaking at the hinges, the bedroom door opened as you pushed past it, following the strangely comforting scent. Padding down the hallway, you soon met your destination, now coming face to face with whatever commotion had prompted you to venture this far.

Your curious eyes landed upon Dabi’s figure, rummaging through a brown paper grocery bag, pulling out the items and setting them on the countertop. Likely heading for the drawer behind him, he turned only to find you, standing just a small distance away.

Examining your face, he found that even just slightly, it held a peak of interest―the most you’d shown in nearly a month.

“Well hey there, sweets. What brings you around these parts?”

Wordless, your gaze drifted to the oven, a warm and low light shining through the glass panel of the door. A little nervously, your hands fiddled in front of you, not really knowing what to say.

That you forgot what fresh baked goods smelled like, and whatever was in the oven was literally making your mouth water?

In that low and raspy voice of his, Dabi chuckled a little to himself, resuming the task at hand. “Smell good? Hope it does―I haven’t got a single goddamn clue if I made the pie crust right.” Speaking through his actions, he grabbed a few measuring cups and spoons, shutting the drawer and making his way back to the counter with ingredients splayed across it haphazardly.

Once again, your curiosity got the better of you. “You’re making pie?”

Without looking at you, Dabi smoothly replied in a teasing tone. “Pumpkin pie―for my pumpkin.” At that he shot you a cheeky wink, the unanticipated comment causing your cheeks to heat up.

Seeing how just that brief sentiment already had you speechless for the moment, he continued.

“Come help me, make sure I don’t fuck this up, yeah?” Waiting for a response, he rested a hand on the counter, a small smile quirked on his lips.

It could’ve been how the pie crust’s aroma was quite literally tantalizing, or just that you didn’t want to deal with trying to negotiate your way out of this―but something inside of you didn’t want to let this strange chance for a heartwarming fall festivity go.

“Yeah, okay...I guess.”

Looking satisfied at your words, but not too much (he did have to try and contain his excitement after all), Dabi simply gave you a nod. “Good, go wash your hands then, squirt.”

Without another word, he began rooting through the ingredients and utensils once again, expecting you to heed his words.

And heed his words you did, making your way to the sink and soaking your hands in the warm water and soap. Drying yourself off, you stepped up to the counter where he was at, seeing all the things on display and at the ready.

Dabi had a printed out recipe propped up against a bag of flour, visible smudges of the substance lingering on the paper’s edges. Looking down, you saw that the pumpkin puree was already in a mixing bowl, the cans they came in nowhere to be seen.

“Think you can crack some eggs for me?” Reaching for the open carton, he handed you said eggs in question.

One at a time, you cracked three of them open against the edge of the bowl, doing your best not to get any shells in the mixture. While you were at it, Dabi got the brown sugar ready, a pleased smile threatening to grow as he watched you comply, you even behaving quite eagerly with night he’d set up for the both of you.

Just as if everything in the world was right, and the circumstances for you being there with him wasn’t as dark as you once recalled it out to be, the two of you settled into a comfortable air. You, relaxed as Dabi helped you measure out ingredients, a certain light in your eyes as you completed each step. And of course, the bubbling adoration he felt continued to simmer in his chest as you became more engrossed with something as simple as baking a pumpkin pie with each passing second.

The ingredients were slowly added to the bowl, Dabi laughing a little when you fussed over making sure you put in the proper amount of cinnamon, shooting down his idea to just eyeball it instead. When everything was finally in, the counter dusted with spices and cornstarch, you started whisking it together.

Or, well...you tried to, at least.

You huffed as the bowl kept sliding across the counter, you unable to hold it in place and stir at the same time.

Of course, Dabi found your little frustrated pout downright adorable. But for fear of you giving up and retiring to your room, he managed to find it in himself to help you.

As he sidled up behind your struggling form, you tensed slightly, only because you weren’t expecting the contact. Semi-scarred arms wrapped around you, Dabi peering over your shoulder with your back pressed into his chest. He gripped the bowl with both hands, pressing a quick light and chaste kiss onto the side of your head.

“Try it now.”

Once again following his instructions, you stirred the bowl’s contents in a circular motion, Dabi’s assistance greatly appreciated as you whisked it all together with ease. Not too much time later, the wet and dry ingredients were perfectly incorporated, creating a thick and reddish-brown, spice speckled mixture. You finished up your work with a tired but satisfied sigh, earning a proud “Atta girl,” from behind you.

Right in time for the oven to go off, Dabi reluctantly pulled away from you, taking his unique sense of heat with him. In oven mitt clad hands, he pulled out the halfway baked pie crust and set it upon the towel lined counter.

“Alright, scooch―don’t need you burning yourself.”

Not really knowing what else to do, you let Dabi take the reins as he poured the pumpkin filling into the pan, inserting it back into the oven and setting the timer for an hour. With that, he dusted his hands off on his black sweatpants, regrettably eying the mess the two of you had made.

For the first time that night, you spoke up before he did. “I guess...we should probably clean up a little?”

Dabi smiled, “...Guess we should.”

Falling into an unconscious routine you once knew, one you’d go through in a time before meeting Dabi, you moved about the kitchen and tidied up after yourself. You wiped down the counter and put everything away as he cleaned and rinsed the bowls and measuring cups, setting them on the drying rack. When the two of you were done, there was still roughly thirty or so minutes of time left for the pie to bake.

Hanging up a cup towel, you just barely got it on a hook before a set of hands spun you around by your hips. In the same motion, Dabi pushed you towards the counter’s edge, hoisting you up on its surface. Before you could get a word out, he was peppering your face in ghosted kisses, hands creeping up underneath your shirt and squeezing playfully at your waist.

A quiet fit of pleasantly confused giggles erupted from you, squirming in his grasp. You could feel the grin on Dabi’s face against your skin as he remained unrelenting with the sudden wave of affection, not budging as you not so seriously pushed against his broad chest. His body now slotted in between your legs, a hand left your waist in favour of cupping your cheek, before bringing you into a deep and passionate kiss.

Being so caught up in putting all your effort into sporadically baking pie on this dreary autumn evening, you didn’t even realize that the strange inexplicable feeling that had gripped you for weeks on end was slipping. Losing its hold on you more and more as Dabi’s lips moved against yours, arm circling around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

When he finally did part from you, a hint of a blush could be made out on his cheeks, you feeling a similar warmth in yours at the sudden intimacy displayed by the cremation user.

Noticing your mildly shocked expression, he let out a breathy exhale that could almost be excused as a laugh. “Sorry―couldn’t resist…”

You stayed where you were, only looking to the side, a little embarrassed yourself. “S’fine, I didn’t mind.” It wasn’t like he’d never done something like that before after all, it in fact paling in comparison to some of the other things you’d done with him during the dead of night.

He knew that just as much as you, but even after all this time, feeling you against him never failed to send a surge of yearning emotions through him. Such a sensation he found himself unable to replicate anywhere else, that not mattering when he would ever want to experience it if it wasn’t with you.

In an attempt to diffuse your clear sheepishness, Dabi slinked away, headed for the other side of the kitchen. “Got something for you,” he said matter of factly. Returning to your form perched on the countertop, he settled a grey and weighted plastic bag on your lap.

You gave him an inquisitive look, finding a spark of confidence deep inside you to poke at his intentions. “What’s the occasion?” Fingers carefully delving into the bag, you tore your eyes from his strikingly blue ones.

He took his place back in between your legs, leaning against the counter while observing you closely. “Didn’t know I needed a reason to give you a gift.”

Peering into the bag, you spoke while reaching for its contents. “Well...I guess you don’t, s’just kinda sudden is all.”

Dabi let out a low hum in response, the noise reverberating in his chest. “Just―hurry up and take a look, would’ya?”

Finding humour in his insistence, you softly shook your head, the corner of your lip drawing upwards. Not wanting to leave either of you waiting any longer, you pulled out a small cardboard box, about the size of your hand. Studying it a little more closely, you came to realize what it contained―string lights.

Looking through the sheer plastic panel, you could see the ropes of wires, all adorned with tiny LED lights encased in clear plastic maple leaves. Reds, oranges and yellows shone back at you when you pressed the test button on the outside of the box, its light illuminating both of your faces.

With a slight change in tone, leaning more towards a gentle reassurance, Dabi spoke when the silence continued to linger. “Figured you could put them around the window in our bedroom, or something…”

For a moment, you let the warm light cascade across the both of your features, eyes sparkling at the wonderful display of ambiance. You quickly got lost in its glow, a foreign object pulling you in and keeping you entranced.

Dabi however was growing a tad bit antsy, not being able to fully read your reaction. Always one to take matters into his own hands, at least when it came to you, he gently prompted you to hop off the counter. “C’mon, doll―why don’t you go hang ‘em up?”

Deep down, you could feel the stirring of appreciation building inside of you, genuinely moved at this little gift. So, you made no actions to stop him as Dabi helped you down, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom. You watched patiently, if not quite enraptured as he pulled out the string lights from the box, unraveling them carefully. He set the cardboard container aside on the nightstand, motioning with a wave of his hand for you to join him near the window.

Hands slightly shaky, you worked to pin up the lights around the window’s frame. Dabi snickered to himself behind you when you jumped as he tried to steady you, hands suddenly grasping your hips as you stood on the seat trying to reach the top of the window. A little irked at his shameless actions, you sent him a tiny, unserious glare over your shoulder, only earning a knowing grin from him.

When everything was said and done, you stood back and flicked the switch, letting the mostly dimmed room be bathed in the comfortable glow it emitted. The illuminated leaves bounced off the reflective window, speckling it with even more light.

Oddly, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, the sight resonated nicely inside of you. Standing in its view, you didn’t even realize that a small smile had overtaken your expression. No words needed to be said to tell him that you were more pleased than you thought you’d be with the gift―not when the look on your face, how your eyes roamed over the decorations in awe told him all he needed to know.

Just as he was about to unleash a cheesy but loving sentiment upon you, the timer for the oven rang out, the both of you turning your heads with the sound.

From where you stood, the scent of the freshly baked dessert smelled amazing.

...If only it looked just as good.

It was your turn to laugh this time, Dabi sighing as he took the pie from the oven. To be honest, you weren’t entirely surprised to find that the crust was burnt to a degree that wouldn’t likely be edible.

Although, it would seem Dabi wasn’t very much shocked at the sight either. After setting the pan down on the counter, he walked over to the fridge, running a hand through his dark locks at the same time. “Kinda figured I’d find a way to fuck it up―I thought you were supposed to keep that from happening?”

You swung your legs as they failed to touch the floor from your seat, “I think it would’ve ended like that regardless…”

In any case, he certainly wasn’t going to let the high spirits die down, especially now that he had you acting a little more like yourself. So, he pulled Plan B from the fridge.

Another pumpkin pie was set down in front of you, pre-made, with a can of whipped cream on the side.

“Well, I hope you’ll take a store bought one. Probably better than anything I could come up with anyways.”

_____

The pie he picked up on the way home turned out to be just fine, and Dabi was glad that he took that precaution. Especially now that you were back to being curled up on the window seat, because this time you weren’t alone.

You let him join you, pulling you into his lap and wrapping you in a soft blanket. It had started to rain outside, and what would normally bring a dreary atmosphere only made him want to hold you closer.

Yes, maybe Dabi did turn down the heat in the apartment just so you’d gravitate towards him, but you didn’t need to know that. Not when you were so perfectly wrapped in his arms, the warm hues of the string lights surrounding you, a comforting lingering of the pumpkin aroma hanging in the air.

He would've loved for you to start a conversation, but Dabi knew that was unlikely to happen. Ever since he found you coming to terms with your situation with him, you grew considerably quiet. Painfully so in these past few weeks, not many words graced your lips. It was why the events of this afternoon meant so much to him.

For the first time in a long time, his actions seemed to be getting through to you. Even just this morning, the fleeting kiss he pressed into your cheek didn’t do all that much to earn a reaction. And yet, here you were now practically melting into his embrace.

As much as he wanted to bask in the ways you were coming around to him once again in such a short matter of time, the returned silence between the two of you was unsettling on his part. He could tell there was a still remaining sense of happiness inside you from the night's activities, and you were likely satisfied with what had unfolded.

But Dabi wasn’t―not quite yet.

“...You know I love you, right?”

The seconds that ticked by without a reply from you felt like hours in his mind. Though eventually you did respond, offering a small nod in understanding to his question.

Dabi brought a hand to the crown of your head, smoothing down your hair in soothing motions as he continued. “You asked what the occasion was...s’cause I just wanna see you happy.”

He hadn’t brought up his concerns with you since you more or less shut down in front of his eyes, for fear that pushing you would only make you resent him more. Yet now, in the comfort of feeling you lean into him, patiently letting him unload his worries upon you, his will to contain such feelings weakened.

“I wanna make you feel loved, but it’s hard when you shut me out.”

Something painful tugged in your chest as you heard him let out a shaky breath, the arm around you tightening its hold.

“I know I can’t give you what you really want, but I’m not just gonna watch you disappear on me either.”

Despite his words notioning to a past that would normally bring about anguish, the unbridled adoration laced into his tone made you look past all of that. It sounded strange, such promises coming from someone so harsh and gravely, but it only made it all the more sweeter. Because you knew he was only like that with you, telling you in ways that words could never describe just how much you meant to him.

In truth, you found it hard to decide on what to say―what he wanted to hear, while also being your truth at the same time. For reasons you couldn’t quite comprehend, the words on your tongue that you wanted to repeat back at him, those he’d told you countless times before―you couldn’t force them out. Call it shyness, but in the end it didn’t matter.

For now, you could only say what you were confident in. “Thank you for tonight, I-I had a lot of fun…”

If you looked hard enough, you’d be able to see how his features softened at your bashfully spoken admittance, his face illuminated by the string lights and reflecting in the window panes. Only, the fact that you were shyly burrowing your face into his chest ruined that chance, you bringing the blanket further up your body.

Even if he did want to hear more of your voice, Dabi was now more than satisfied with what he was given. He knew of the words you couldn’t tell him, reading it in the way you let him hold you, how you sought out a warmth that only he could provide. And really, there was more than enough time for you to work up the courage you lacked at the moment.

You weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he. While although the seasons outside continued to change, his love for you would always remain the same. Unfaltering, never withering as you only made those feelings grow more, if that was even possible.

Dabi made a note that he’d try to bring to you all the things you longed for from the safety of his home. Hopefully, that would be enough. And judging by how well tonight's festivities were received, he could take a guess that it was only a matter of time until you’d make it out of this seasonal funk you were in.

Choosing now to simply enjoy having you so close, Dabi resolved that his efforts were a success. He joined you in gazing out the window, the rain falling in steady streams and washing away the fallen leaves of the day.

“Anytime, doll.”

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha x reader #yandere x you #yandere writing #tw stockholm syndrome #tw unhealthy relationship #tw captivity

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black-streak · 4 years ago

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Little Pistol - The Investigation

Chapter 14

First Previous Next

I'm really trying to continue this, I promise. I know the updates are rare and spaced, but I promise this isn't being abandoned. Please let me know of any changed usernames so I can update the taglist, assuming you still want to be tagged. Song by Sugarcult.

Highly recommend listening to the song, it's so fitting for the inner turmoil here.

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-alice-of-hearts @vixen-uchiha @changelinggarden @unrepentantgeek

LP Taglist

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~---~

Jason's hesitance in the doorway was noticeable as Tim led the silent lady into the living room of their safehouse in the Coventry. This particular location chosen for its proximity not only to their base of operations, but the rooftop he'd originally pinned their guest to. Their guest truly was silent too, not only from lack of speaking, but the movement of her clothing, her steps, her shifting weight all completely muted into nothingness. Had he not felt her solid wrist within his grip, Tim could easily pass her off as a ghost. Even still, the life form trailing him felt haunting. A sense of foreboding laying like a thick blanket over the room.

Coming to a stop in front of an armchair, he pressed down on her shoulder, watching as she complied, body lowering into the chair while maintaining perfect eye contact. The whisper of what wanted to be a smile stayed on her lips as she settled, as though they were old friends meeting over afternoon tea. It put him on edge.

She shouldn't feel so comfortable with both of them closed in on her, anonymity on the verge of collapse as they scrutinized her every move.

Tim waved Jason off as the other reached for a set of ropes.

"Don't bother, she can escape them."

He seemed to mull the words over before narrowing them down to their based meaning, "You're saying she chose to be captured."

"Yes."

Their guest's eyes flashed in mild amusement before settling back into the blank void of almost smiling. It was creepy, like a porcelain doll come to life for a flicker of a second only to make you second guess if it ever happened at all the next.

"Why isn't she talking? She seemed to have plenty to say before," Jason squinted at her, keeping a reasonable distance, one hand hovering over his left holster.

Tim shook his head, "She responded to one question, then ignored the rest."

"Huh. So like a puzzle then."

"What." Tim deadpanned.

"No no, hear me out," Jason waved his hands about, seemingly catching the lady's attention as she followed the motion, "she answered one question, right?"

"Yes?" He folded his arms, waiting to see where Jay was going with this.

"So it's not that she won't respond to anything. Only to things she decides are worth answering. Whether that means things she sees as important or just too noteworthy to pass up, I'm not sure, but she seemed pretty quick to jump on Bat-wannabe and demon spawn's case, so I'm hedging towards the latter here."

A startled giggle makes both men snap their head towards the cause.

"Demon Spawn," she mumbles, earning a grin from Jason and an eye roll from Tim. Jason was just grateful he'd forgone the helmet tonight so she could see the positive reaction.

"Definitely the latter then," Tim sighed, reaching to rub his eyes, only to drop his hand back down at the reminder of the mask pressed to his fingers.

"Easy peasy then," Jason sat on a crate normally used as a makeshift table in the barren apartment, unbothered by the way it made his knees knock into the lady's.

"Sure. Easy."

"Yeah, all we gotta do is intrigue her enough to want to talk to us. And that can't be too difficult, otherwise she wouldn'ta bothered talking to begin with, isn't that right, sweetheart?" He leaned towards her with a friendly smile. One that wasn't returned.

"Yeah, seems to be working wonders," Tim mocked.

"Just give me a sec, I haven't even tried," he waved Tim off, focusing on the figure before him, "so, you seem pretty calm considering the circumstances. That got more to do with your confidence in your abilities to escape or more an interest in being captured?"

Silence.

"Were you hoping we'd use the ropes? I could bring them back if you're into that kind of thing."

More silence.

"What's got you tongue tied anyhow? See something you like?"

Dead silence only this one came with a delicately raised eyebrow and a glance in Tim's direction, as if to say, 'He always this cocksure?'

Jason lept on the action even still.

"Oh, he got your interest back there? I guess that makes sense since you talked to him first. That reminds me, how'd you react so fast when that lowlife got that lucky swipe in, anyhow? Unless you were already there?"

Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him at the lack of speech from the other, not reacting even to the callout.

"Feel free to dazzle us at any time," Tim called over.

Her lips twitched up.

"Oh, I see. Only willing to interact with little red then?"

A head tilt.

"What about demon spawn? Anything to say about him? Or what about big brother pretender?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, narrowed and... calculating?

"Think I struck a chord?" He turned towards Tim who only shrugged only to be wrenched back to focus as a tiny hand gripped his arm tightly, the previously complacent figure now tilted forward and staring him down with a hard look, flickering over his face as though the mask wasn't even there. Before he could even twist her arm away, she murmured out, "You're the second Robin, aren't you?"

Oh. Maybe calling Dick their big brother even jokingly was a mistake. Oh well, too late now, and what did it really matter if she knew? Not as though it connected back to his civilian form.

"Yeah. You figured that out pretty quickly."

"Faked your death? To get away?" She asked, voice gruff and heavily accented.

"Died and brought back. Weird magic shit. Almost lost a bit of me on the way back."

"Should you be telling her that?" Tim bit out.

"What's it matter if I do? What's she going to do with that? She's not even from this country. Besides, you want her to trust us enough to talk, might as well instill a little trust in return, ya know? Not like we're interrogating her, otherwise you woulda taken over by now," Jason eased Tim again, his own words sparking his own thoughts back into motion, "Which reminds me, you travel here the normal way? Cause it'll be pretty easy to look up young women who've traveled here from France."

"Weird magic shit," was the deadened response.

"Touché."

"Why's your voice so hoarse?" Tim asked, finally moving forward to rejoin the conversation fully, only to watch her rub her throat.

"Not much of a talker?" Tim continued, meeting her eyes, "how long since you held a full conversation with someone then? Days? Weeks? Months?" Her eyes flickered, "Months then? Why? Why not talk? Why talk to us now?"

Her entire figure seemed to droop, caving into itself and finally she responded to him directly, "I'm alone."

While Jason seemed confused, it's like she struck something deep within Tim. Something that understood. That wanted to reach out and contradict her just so they could both be wrong.

And right as he reached out to do just that, the seat beneath her opened up in a pool of black ink that dragged her under only to close back up, leaving his hand outstretched towards an empty chair.

"Fuck, now I'm even more confused," Jason groused, standing up and kicking away the crate as he went.

"Yeah…"

#ml x dc #maribat #timinette #timari #Dark!Timinette

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alistair-blackwood · 4 years ago

Text

MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #2)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can–

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

A knock startled Martin from his troubled doze. A lone ray of light had managed to break through the storm, cutting through the lingering shadows of his room. The winds shrieked. The snow roiled and bellowed and pounded the windows. The white wall stood firm.

Nothing had changed. Martin curled in on himself, fighting the urge to tug at the wisps of his hair as his heart thundered against his ribs.

We share tea every morning and dinner every night. He’s back. We’re talking. I’m not lonely. I am not lonely.

So why had nothing changed? What was he doing wrong?

“Martin?”

Martin jumped. Jon’s face was peeking out from behind the door, and when their eyes met, he held up two cups of tea.

Martin had overslept.

“Shit,” he breathed, moving to scramble out of bed. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Remain where you are, please.”

Head buzzing with exhaustion and grief, Martin settled back down. No point pitching a fit now when he’d probably just tip over. Jon would probably just push him back down again.

“You seem unwell,” Jon said as he sat at Martin’s feet, handing him his cup. Martin’s reflection stared up at him from the hot, dark liquid, blurred and unfathomable.

“I look that bad, then?”

“You look as if you slept poorly, yes. Maybe a change of pillows is in order?”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just ... one of those nights, I guess.” He sipped at his tea, desperate to leech any glimmer of warmth and comfort offered to him. And yet, the jasmine tasted acrid in his mouth.

Why are you lounging about like this, sucking on tea? a voice whispered. You should be figuring out a way out of here. There must be a way, and you need to find it.

“So,” Martin said. “Still no change in this storm, then, huh?”

“… That would appear to be the case, yes.”

“Yeah. I just, it seemed like …” Martin swirled the tea until the liquid nearly sloshed over the rim. “I mean, now that we’re talking again and everything, I assumed things would … get better?”

Cup half raised to his lips, Jon paused, his eyes unreadable. “You … assumed if we resumed communication, the storm would clear?”

Well, when Jon said it like that, the whole thing sounded silly. Martin’s cheeks heated. “I mean, this is all because of that one, isn’t it?” His hands tightened on the cup. “The Lonely? That’s what’s causing this, right?”

“I don’t remember insinuating as much.”

“What else could it be, though?”

Jon’s thumb traced the handle of his cup, silent, and Martin took that as his answer.

“So, we’re talking again, yeah? So shouldn’t it just … go?”

“I couldn’t tell you how the entities choose to manifest themselves,” Jon said, a new, hard edge threading his words. “To act like I could would be deceitful. I’m sorry to say, but I don’t think your plan will come to fruition.”

Martin’s chest panged at his tone. Plan? It hadn’t been a plan; that made it sound like Martin was … using Jon in some way. Martin had merely thought it was a bygone conclusion. And why wouldn’t it be? Want to get rid of an entity of loneliness keeping you trapped somewhere? Spend more time chatting up your beautiful host! Why wouldn’t that sort of logic work?

But of course it hadn’t been that simple. He was a fool for thinking it could be.

He just wanted Jon to give him an answer. To tell him to have hope, to tell him it was okay to have hope, despite everything terrible about their situation. He just wanted him to understand, and Martin was running out of time.

“Today’s the day,” Martin said, desperation thick on his tongue. “When I’d send my letter back to my Mum. I meant to tell you that before, but I … I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to jinx it or something.”

Jon pressed his lips together, and his eyes were so sad and pitying that Martin wanted to be sick. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have done something before now. Made a plan or …” Martin’s eyes returned to the safe murkiness of his tea. “But instead I’ve just been sitting around here and …” -drinking tea, reading useless books, making moon eyes at- “Do you think anyone would have told her by now? That I’m gone?”

“I-”

“No, God, why would you know a thing like that? Sorry, I just …” Martin sucked in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. “I can’t decide which is worse; if someone’s told her already, or if she’'ll just be stuck wondering what happened to me.”

Christ, stop. This whining was only making Jon shift uncomfortably in his seat. But the image of his mother, alone in a too-small cottage she hated, that was too drafty and smelled like damp, waiting for his letter to arrive in the post- waiting, and waiting, and waiting-

“I should have been doing more. What was I even thinking? I thought things would just work out and I’ve just been sitting here-”

“You can hardly be expected to know-”

“I could have tried in the first place,” Martin said, aware his voice was creeping in volume and helpless to stop it.

And then, it hit him.

“What if I tried just ... leaving?"

“… I beg your pardon?”

A burst of impassioned energy welled up in his chest, chasing away the chilling emptiness. “What if I tried just leaving? Muscling my way through the storm?”

Confused laughter escaped Jon’s lips, trailing away under the hard weight of Martin’s stare. A crease diveted Jon’s eyebrows. “Martin, t-that ... That would be absurd-”

But Martin wasn’t listening, adrenaline sweeping through his limbs until he thought he could run. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? That was a plan. “I could do it. The storm doesn’t have to be gone and so long as I’m dressed for it- If I leave now, I could make it to the post office before-”

“Are you hearing to yourself right now?” The ferocity of Jon’s tone snapped Martin out of his racing thoughts. “The only thing you’ll accomplish is getting lost. You don’t know the way, and you’ll freeze before you get anywhere useful. Martin, please, I understand your situation is-”

“You don’t.”

The sharp words lingered heavy. Jon pulled away, eyes wide, but Martin didn’t retract, or let himself feel guilty about his sudden volume. Jon needed to know; he needed to understand this was important. Important enough to try anything.

Taking a deep breath, a touch of steel hardened Jon’s jaw once more. “Then what of Phillipa, hm? Have you even considered her well being in this grand plan of yours? You’d force her through this blizzard carrying you on her back?”

Martin’s stomach sank, guilt twisting in such fierce knots that his anger was strangled in its own crib. No. No, he hadn’t considered Phillipa in this slapdash plan of his. She’d never make it through the storm, no matter how careful Martin was.

But without her, Martin didn’t stand a chance.

This is what happens, the voice said, louder now, when you get complacent.

Something brushed his arm. Martin flinched, but Jon’s expression remained steady and calm; it almost made Martin angrier, the sore, wounded cavity in his chest desperate to snap and argue until they were gasping for breath. So long as they argued, Martin still had a chance to be right- there was a way out of here they just weren’t seeing, and they could figure it out together if they just kept-

“It’s not your fault,” Jon said, and the shame that swept over Martin nearly choked him. He drained the last of his cup, trying to collect himself. The tea had gone cold.

“Thank you for the tea,” he said. Jon stretched out his hand for Martin’s cup, their fingers brushing, and Martin had to beat back a shiver. “I … I think I'm going to lie down for a little while. If that’s okay. Probably won’t be up for cleaning out the study later.”

“Martin, please, I’d hardly expect you to clean. Take your time.”

There was no judgment in his tone, no sneer to his lips, even with how brusque his words were. Of course Jon would understand. He’d understand how Martin was feeling better than anyone. Trapped. Helpless.

And Martin had gone and yelled at him for it.

Curling up under the sheets, Martin let the shrieking wind carry him back to a troubled sleep.

#tha magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #preview #momm #starting to feel kinda sorta good with how everything's falling together #still so much work to do AGH #everyone be extra nice to be please ;w;

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aquaquadrant · 4 years ago

Text

the little things

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

~*~

Ben’s been reunited with the other campers, and seems to have come out the other end of his experience stronger than ever before. But as he slowly finds his place back within the group, a bigger picture starts to emerge, piece by piece.

Rated T for: mental illness, mild language, panic attacks, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, eating disorder (not in a traditional sense, but definitely not a healthy relationship with food)

A/N: Hey Camp Cretaceous fandom, y’all mind if I uhhhh write six-thousand words about Ben’s trauma?? Basically, Netflix kept recommending the show to me so I watched the first ep out of curiosity and then ended up binging the whole thing in like two days, and now here I am.

(Dear sweet, patient, regular readers of mine: I’m so sorry my main fic’s been delayed but I promise it’s getting updated next week, I just had to get some feelings out about Sad Dino Boy)

Hope you enjoy, please reblog and leave a comment if you do! - Aqua

Click here to read on A03 (with more complete tags)

~*~

the little things

~*~

Ben Pincus has returned from the dead, and he’s never been better.

The other campers are amazed. What he’s been through must have been horrible. He thought he was the only one left, that there was no one to help him and no hope of rescue because he was presumed dead. It would’ve been enough to drive anyone into despair, or off of the deep end.

But Ben shows no signs of this.

They didn’t find him holed up somewhere, near starvation and waiting to die, like one might’ve expected. They didn’t find him at all, really. He found them, and by coming to their rescue, no less. And when he did, he wasn’t a trembling mess, he wasn’t a half-mad ball of paranoia, and he wasn’t a hollow-eyed skeleton fueled solely by desperation.

He’s an all new and improved Ben, the best version of himself.

He hasn’t just survived, he’s flourished. He’s brave, he’s confident, he’s capable. He gives his opinions freely and without second-guessing himself, suggesting things the old Ben would’ve recoiled at. He fits seamlessly into the team like he never left. He faces problems head-on with determination and grit and not a trace of fear.

The turnaround is unbelievable. But even more important is that while he’s a new and improved Ben, he’s retained all the best parts of his old self.

Ben is easy smiles and meticulous organization of a leather waist bag and doting affection for a four-ton armored lizard. He’s sensitive and soft-spoken and accepts hugs from his friends gratefully. He still can’t quite pull off coolness, with a voice that sounds as gangly as his limbs look and an awkwardness he hasn’t grown out of.

And it’s perhaps because of this that no one thinks to look closer. This image is an easy thing to accept because it’s what they all want to believe, that Ben is okay- in fact, better than okay. But the truth is not always big and obvious upon first glance.

It’s the little things, as they soon find out.

~*~

That first evening after Ben’s return, after Mitch and Tiff and everything else, they don’t eat dinner.

They all ate their fill at the campsite and, after a month of scarcity, it was more than enough to sate their appetites. It’s Darius who thinks to ask Ben if he’s hungry, remembering that the boy hadn’t had the chance to eat with them. They have a good stockpile of food at the moment and he figures Ben must’ve been struggling.

But Ben shakes his head with an easy smile, and says, “Nah, I ate earlier.”

Darius leaves it at that, because there’s still so much catching up to do. They show Ben around their clubhouse, make plans for where to build a bunk for him (he insists he’d be just fine sleeping on the ground next to Bumpy, but they all veto that immediately). They talk well into the night about the day’s crazy events, filling each other in on their own sides of the story, and everything that’s happened since Ben got separated.

There are some more tears, some more hugs. But ultimately, the mood in the clubhouse is ecstatic. They never thought Ben had survived the fall so to have him back is better than a dream come true, it’s a miracle.

Darius thought he knew what it was to experience a miracle when they first saw that bonfire smoke on the horizon. But if he had to chose between the miracle of them finally leaving the island or the miracle of getting Ben back, it’s not even a competition.

Eventually the exhaustion catches up with everyone, and they turn in for the night. Bumpy parks herself underneath the clubhouse, her presence incredibly reassuring. Ben ends up sharing Kenji’s bunk because it’s bigger than Darius’s even when occupied by two, and the older teen had insisted in a very faux-casual way, to which Ben had rolled his eyes but nonetheless seemed touched by the gesture.

Darius takes the first night watch shift and gets to see all his friends sleeping peacefully. And even though Tiff sailed away with their only means for escaping, he feels a lot more hopeful than he has in a long time.

~*~

It’s canned peaches for breakfast.

A far cry from yesterday’s buffet. But no one’s complaining because the meticulous rationing of their food, courtesy of Darius, means they’re all starving by meal time and couldn’t care less what it tastes like. Darius is in the process of separating the food out into bowls, half a can for each of them, when he realizes Ben has yet to take a seat. He’s lingering at the edge of the room, watching.

“Hey,” Darius calls, “you coming or what?”

Ben shakes his head. “Thanks, but I already got my own breakfast.”

Before Darius can respond, Brooklynn shoots Ben a look. “What? Where?” she demands. “You holding out on us, jungle boy?”

Darius shoots her a look, but Ben just gives an easy smile and unzips the leather pouch that’s reclaimed its spot around his waist. He withdraws a small handful of bright red berries, no bigger than blueberries. It’s not even a fraction of the half-can of peaches the rest of them are settling for, and Darius sees his own unease reflected in the others’ eyes.

Brooklynn glances away. “Oh. Um, sorry. You don’t… you can have some of ours, you know?”

“I’m good.” Ben tosses a couple berries into his mouth. “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go check on Bumpy.”

“O- oh, okay…” Sammy murmurs, watching Ben go with uncertain eyes. “If you’re sure…”

They’re silent for a moment.

Kenji inhales quietly through his teeth. “So… that’s weird, right?”

Yaz leans forward in her seat. “What do you think, Darius?” she asks lowly.

Darius bites his lip. Even though dinosaurs are his specific topic of interest, he’s gained a lot of second-hand knowledge about general biology and psychology. After all, he has to understand the processes behind behavior in order to identify patterns and deviations.

And right now, he has to admit that Ben is displaying a very concerning behavior.

“I’ll talk to him,” Darius decides.

There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table, and the others start eating. It takes Darius longer than usual to finish his serving.

~*~

“So, uh, bottom line is… you don’t need to feel bad about eating our food. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else, and we’re happy to share.”

After a couple tense days, Darius is finally talking to Ben about the food situation. Or rather, talking at him. Because Ben’s not looking at Darius- his eyes are tracking the small spider that’s crawling along the railing next to them. Normally, Darius would take it as a sign of boredom and inattentiveness. But there’s an intensity in Ben’s eye that’s a little unsettling-

Quick as a flash, Ben shoots out an arm. He crushes the spider under his thumb and swipes it into his mouth. And then, untroubled as can be, he returns his focus to Darius as if nothing had happened.

Darius has overheard Kenji teasing Ben about eating bugs, and Ben has admitted as much in the stories of his time alone. Berries and grubs were what he lived on. Darius, for one, can’t imagine being hungry and desperate enough to snatch a bug off the ground and eat it.

But it’s even harder to imagine having access to real food, good food, and still choosing to eat bugs.

“Don’t worry so much,” Ben says lightly, patting Darius on the shoulder as he turns to go. “I can take care of myself.”

That does it. “You can’t keep living off berries and grubs!” Darius finally snaps.

Ben whirls around. “Says who?”

“Basic human biology!” Darius retorts.

Ben glares at him, but there’s something shaky behind it. “Darius, I told you it’s fine,” he says evenly, though he doesn’t fully meet Darius’s gaze. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Please? If I’m hungry, I’ll eat.”

Darius hesitates. “You promise?”

Ben breaks into an easy smile. “I promise.”

Darius sighs. It’ll have to be good enough, for now.

“Okay.”

~*~

Darius knows he isn’t the only one still concerned by Ben’s lack of appetite.

Right from the start, Ben was the scrawniest one among them, and it’s only gotten worse. But surely he’ll have to eat at some point, right? Basic survival instincts will win out over whatever stubborn mindset is holding him back. Plus, it’s clear that he’s got enough energy to run and climb and stuff with no problem.

Maybe it’s not as serious as Darius thinks. Maybe Ben just needs time.

~*~

Ben doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He just- he can’t take their food! Why don’t they get that?

And it’s not because he’s stubborn, it’s not- no matter what Darius thinks. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you (as long as you don’t let it make you soft, of course). After all, he relies on Bumpy. He just… when he looks at the food, and imagines eating it, he just knows it’ll sit in his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down.

Plus, plus, if he gets used to eating like that, it’ll just- it’ll be harder to cope once it runs out. He’s already gotten used to roughing it and it was hard enough the first time, he can’t let himself slip back into complacency. And- and really, how long do they think it’s going to last? They’ve searched all the previously inhabited areas of the island and there’s no more food for them to scavenge.

Do they think they’ll be rescued before it runs out? No one is coming to save them. They know it as much as Ben does- they wouldn’t be bothering with rafts if they didn’t. Do they think they’ll escape, then? Sure, because their current attempts have been going so well.

No, they just aren’t thinking long term. Ben is.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

~*~

It’s the sixth day in a row where Ben eats nothing but berries.

He wants to search around some more, see if there’s anything more substantial. That would require him to leave Bumpy, though. And he can’t leave Bumpy. But the hunger is excruciating. It gnaws at him every waking moment, keeps him up at night. He’s never felt such hunger in his life, not even close. He can’t keep going like this, can he?

But there’s nothing else.

Except… something’s crawling up his arm. Something small, and leggy. Ben turns his head, squinting to focus his eyes in the dark. It’s some kind of beetle, with a shiny shell that catches stray shafts of moonlight poking through the roof of his lean-to.

Ben stares at it for a moment. Then, before he can think, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. He barely registers any taste, mostly just the crunchy texture. And even though it wasn’t any bigger than a quarter, after he swallows, he feels… fuller. Even if it’s purely imagined, it’s a comfort.

Berries and grubs. It’ll have to be enough.

There’s nothing else.

~*~

Ben continues to decline their offers of food.

~*~

A few weeks after the reunion, Kenji is starting to get antsy.

As the self-designated ‘pro-fun police’ (a clever play on ‘no-fun police,’ if Kenji does say so himself), he’s made it his responsibility to make sure none of his friends just keel over and die from stress one day. That means it’s his job- no, his duty- to lighten the mood with copious amounts of joking, goofing off, and, of course, pranking.

Jumping out to scare his friends while they’re trapped on a dino-infested island might, on paper, sound like a bad idea. But it keeps everyone on their toes, and the relief of realizing they aren’t facing a dino attack, just Kenji pulling a prank, helps keep any real anger at bay. It’s typically an exasperated annoyance, which Kenji will gladly take. His main targets are Brooklynn and Darius, because he can’t fathom doing that to Sammy, and Yaz is- while perhaps in the most need of lightening up- super freaking scary.

But now that Ben’s back, Kenji knows what he has to do.

Before, back when they were just campers and not survivors, Ben was easily the most frightened of them. The kid was scared of dirt. And his over-the-top hysterics always managed to, somehow, put everyone else at ease. Because if Ben was scared of something, that didn’t really mean anything. Again; scared of dirt.

(Now, if Yaz is scared of something, that’s a different story).

Since Ben’s, uh… departure, they’ve been sorely lacking that energy in the group. Kenji would wager he’s not the only one who misses it. He used to have so much fun riling Ben up with just a couple words (none of the others are so easily baited). And whenever Ben would freak out and instantly cling to him, like some kind of scrawny spider monkey, it made Kenji feel… capable, in a way.

Like, if Ben was trusting Kenji to protect him, maybe he wasn’t so useless after all (which was becoming an all too frequent feeling as the others continued to adapt and grow, leaving Kenji struggling to keep up).

Problem is, Ben’s really hard to scare now.

It’s not always obvious, like when he’s bragging about taking down Toro or itching to blow things up. Sometimes it’s the little things. Whenever they’re out in a group, foraging or gathering supplies, and there’s a sound in the distance that makes them all freeze, Ben’s frozen in readiness, not fear. He looks more like Yaz, tense and waiting with his fists up and eyes narrowed.

Sometimes, when they aren’t occupied by any particular task or imminent threat, and have the chance to enjoy some downtime, Ben drifts off to the side and just… watches, all tense, silent, and anxious. He’ll watch the tree line, or Bumpy on the ground below, or even just the rest of them as they go about their business. Kenji is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed but none of them bring it up.

It’s… unsettling, seeing Ben like this. Kenji figured he just needed a couple weeks to fall back into the rhythm of the group, to see that he didn’t have to be this loner Rambo type of guy anymore. But even though he talks with them easy enough, seems to enjoy their company, and has a good handle on teamwork, it’s like there’s a part of him that can’t fully shake that mentality.

At least, not without help.

~*~

Kenji’s plan is- in his humble opinion- pretty dang brilliant.

He waits for a time when it’s just him and Ben in the main level of the clubhouse (Yaz is running laps around their perimeter, Darius is in his bunk writing in his nerd book, Brooklynn and Sammy are upstairs going over inventory) and then announces he’s going for a shower. His daily showers are common knowledge at this point, so Ben just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to leaning against the railing, watching Bumpy graze down below in that tense-silent-anxious way of his.

Kenji sets up the shower and lets it run (he’ll go down to the river later and get more water to make up for the waste, because even though he tries to avoid manual labor whenever possible, it’s totally worth it in this case). And then, being more careful and silent than he’s ever been (except maybe in cases where he’s being hunted by dinos), he slowly creeps up behind Ben before leaping forward with a shriek, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Ben doesn’t just jump and scream. He jumps, screams, then spins around and swings a fist into Kenji’s jaw in one smooth motion.

Kenji’s laughing even as he staggers back, his jaw stinging (because at the end of the day, even though Ben’s kind of a badass now, he’s still Ben and his arms are pretty much chicken wings so there’s no real harm done, just a bruise at most). Plus that’s a valid reaction, considering everything, and he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Oh man, I totally got you!” Kenji says anyways, to rub it in. “You should see your… face...”

And Kenji trails off because now he’s seeing Ben’s face.

What Kenji expected is this:

Once Ben realized it was just him pulling a prank, he would get mad. In that totally non-threatening dorky Ben way, where he scrunches his nose and puffs out his cheeks, his little fists clenched at his side like an irate toddler. Maybe he’d stomp off but it’d be worth it because being mad is better than being tense-silent-anxious and it’d give him the chance to be annoyed with Kenji. And maybe Ben being annoyed with Kenji would help everything feel a little more normal, a little more like before.

What Kenji gets is this:

Once Ben realizes it was just him pulling a prank, he doesn’t get mad. He starts shaking. Violently, uncontrollably. Like he’s suddenly come down with hypothermia despite being in a tropical jungle, staring at Kenji all the while and not saying a word. His chest rises and falls rapidly in little panicky breaths and the kind of fear in his eyes isn’t the kind that’s funny. It’s glassy-eyed with shrunken pupils that dart around Kenji’s face, frightened and searching, as if he isn’t fully seeing it.

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

Kenji hasn’t heard Ben’s voice sound that small since before, and it doesn’t feel like a victory.

By now, of course, the others have noticed the commotion and it doesn’t take more than a second for them to piece together what happened. Yaz rounds on Kenji with a furious snarl and whisper-screams a lecture about how stupid and irresponsible he is. Darius is immediately trying to mediate the situation while Sammy frantically asks Ben if he’s okay, to which he doesn’t respond. Brooklynn steps in, citing an unboxing video about dealing with shock, and when she goes to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he lets her.

And now Kenji realizes where he miscalculated. Ben never showed discomfort with physical contact before because he’d never been surprised by it before (because Ben has gotten scary good at being alert, always keeping an eye and an ear out on his surroundings even in the middle of a conversation). And when it came to his friends, it wasn’t unexpected for Sammy to rush in with a hug or Darius to pat his shoulder or Brooklynn to playfully knock elbows.

But Kenji snuck up on him, so Ben’s first thought wasn’t that it was a friend. It was that he was going to have to run for his life, like he has countless times since being stranded on this island.

Kenji apologizes over and over again as Darius gently leads him away by the elbow and Brooklynn talks to Ben in low tones while Sammy squeezes his hand and Yaz takes up a lookout position because they can’t afford for all of them to be distracted even though she occasionally cuts a glare at Kenji out of the corner of her eye so it’s really debatable how vigilant she’s actually being.

Throughout it all, Ben doesn’t get mad, but he doesn’t stop shaking.

~*~

Darius explains it, later.

“The sudden fear reaction signaled a bunch of adrenaline to be released into his bloodstream, to give him the energy needed for running. And then, when he didn’t, there was nowhere for that energy to go. It’s like, even though his mind knew there wasn’t any danger, his body wasn’t convinced.” Then, a sympathetic look. “You didn’t know, man.”

Kenji only nods. But knowing doesn’t make it better because even though Ben’s stopped shaking he doesn’t turn his back on Kenji anymore and somehow that’s a million times worse than if he’d gotten mad.

~*~

There are claws wrapped around Ben’s shoulders and shrieks in his ears.

Wind whips his face and his stomach lurches as he’s carried through the air, weightless, at the mercy of the Pteranodon. He’s never felt so small and utterly helpless before, not once in his life. Even his screams aren’t big enough to carry, snatched away by the wind and deafened by the roars of the terror-birds fighting over the right to tear him limb from limb.

And then he’s falling and has other things to worry about.

~*~

Ben stops sharing Kenji’s bunk.

~*~

In a rare moment of downtime, Yasmina is curled up with Darius’s field guide, adding a few more illustrations, when she feels Ben staring at her.

It’s not the first time she’s felt him staring at her. It is the first time, however, that she decides to stare back.

She means it to be playful, at first. She meets his eyes, one brow quirked as if to say, ‘What, is there something on my face?’ But instead of glancing away in sheepish embarrassment or jolting out of a daze, Ben just stares back. There’s no emotion in his expression at all except intense focus.

The faint smile drops from Yasmina’s face as she stares back in surprise. Then, with ever-growing confusion and a fair amount of alarm, she realizes that Ben’s shoulders are rising, tense and hunched like he’s trying to make himself look bigger.

Like an animal.

Yasmina knows what it is to stare down a wild animal. She’s felt predatory eyes on her before and either bolted or turned to face the challenge. And that’s what it is, for some of the dinos- a challenge. Sometimes they’re testing your mettle, and standing your ground is enough to make them back off.

Ben must’ve learned that, too. And for whatever reason, he’s slipping into that behavior now.

It’s a ridiculous thought. This is Ben, her friend. Her very scrawny friend who can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and prefers a diet of berries and grubs. And yet, here he is, staring her down like she’s a particularly bold pack of Compies that’s decided to threaten him.

Yasmina gives a slow, deliberate blink. “Ben?” she calls. “What’s up?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. Ben gives a violent start, blinking and shaking his head. Yasmina sees confusion flash across his face, and then realization. And now the embarrassment comes, but it’s darkened by something like horror.

Without a word, Ben turns and darts away, scrambling down the ladder to the alcove underneath the house where Bumpy’s napping.

Yasmina lets him go, too baffled and unsettled to form words.

~*~

Eventually, Yasmina tells Darius about it.

His expression is troubled as she runs through the incident. But in the end, there’s nothing more he can tell her than what she’s already worked out on her own. It’s just another side effect of the mindset Ben has adopted throughout his isolation. Those habits were what he relied on to survive, and it’ll take time for him to realize he doesn’t have to constantly be on edge now that he’s got a team to look out for him.

Though privately, Yasmina wonders if maybe the rest of them should take a page out of Ben’s book. Seems like he’s got a better handle on survival than they do.

(And then she thinks how Sammy would react, if Yasmina started acting like a wary animal around her, and she realizes Ben’s methods come with a price.)

~*~

After Ben runs the Compies off for the first time, staring becomes a defense tactic.

It’s not always the Compies, who are slowly but surely learning not to mess with him. Sometimes it’s the Parasaurolophus in the river, or the lone Pteranodon perched in a tree, or the group of Edmontosauruses grazing on the hilltop. As soon as he feels their eyes on him, he knows his best chance is to stare back, to show that he’s willing to put up a fight, that chasing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Obviously, there are some dinosaurs that doesn’t work on. But if Ben can drastically cut down the amount of time spent running for his life by standing his ground, then he’ll take it.

All he has to do is not back down.

~*~

Ben avoids Yasmina for the next few days.

~*~

Brooklynn wakes up in the middle of the night with an unshakeable feeling that something is wrong.

Her bad feeling is confirmed when she gets a look at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she should’ve been woken up by Ben to take her night watch shift at least an hour ago. This practice, established by Darius months ago who insisted they should always have at least one person awake, has already become routine within the group. Brooklynn couldn’t sleep fully through the night if she tried.

Ben’s only just recently become a part of the routine. Immediately after his return, Darius thought it best just to let Ben settle in and get as much rest as he could, now that he had the security to do so, and everyone agreed. Ben had insisted he didn’t mind, but Darius stood firm, so it’s only been within the last few days that Ben took part.

But this is the first time he hasn’t woken Brooklynn up and her heart is in her throat as she rushes to the lookout point-

Only to find Ben sitting right where he’s supposed to be, looking out over their compound as a small candle burns next to him.

As soon as Brooklynn’s relief passes, it’s replaced with anger. “What are you doing?” she whispers furiously.

Ben, not at all surprised by her presence, gives her a sidelong look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You were supposed to wake me up, so I could do night watch.” Brooklynn struggles to keep her voice low, so as not to alert the others. “What gives?”

Ben shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight, so I figured I’d just take the whole watch myself.”

“That’s not how this works,” Brooklynn hisses, crossing her arms. “Even if you can’t fall asleep- and I’ve totally been there- you have to lay down and close your eyes and rest. You need to rest.”

Ben breaks into an easy smile, but Brooklynn can see the annoyed creases at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know,” Brooklynn interrupts, hating how frustrated she sounds but unable to help it. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team. We can take care of you too, alright?”

Ben stares at her for a moment. “I know that,” he says, sounding uncertain.

Brooklynn softens. When she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, he lets her. “Then… why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben admits. The muscles beneath Brooklynn’s hand are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. “I don’t know.”

They finish the night watch together.

~*~

Brooklynn almost hates to bring it up to Darius.

Dude’s stressing almost nonstop about everything, all the time. And it really isn’t fair for him to be responsible for the rest of them, including Ben. But Darius is the only one who seems to have the… what’s it called, emotional intelligence, she supposes, to weigh in on the situation.

(Sammy is a close second, but her brand of caring is a little more touchy-feely, and this doesn’t seem like the right time for that.)

Darius is immediately worried, pointing out that Ben might accidentally fall asleep on watch if he keeps this up (something Brooklynn hadn’t even thought about). He promises to talk to Ben about it, and that’s that.

Brooklynn is only slightly relieved because she knows if Darius had a real fix for the problem, he would’ve said so. And if Darius doesn’t have a fix for it, maybe there isn’t one.

~*~

Those first several nights, Ben doesn’t sleep at all.

And it’s not for lack of trying. But how can he sleep, when it’s pitch black and the jungle is full of unfamiliar sounds and he’s got no one but a baby Ankylosaurus by his side? He soon finds it’s even worse without Bumpy, though, because at least he trusted that Bumpy would wake up if there was any danger, as her senses are more powerful than his.

On his own, there’s no one to wake him up. So he has to stay up, and settle for catching short scattered naps throughout the day (if he can find a tree to hide up in).

It’s hard, but he’d rather be tired than dead.

~*~

Ben is taken off night watch, but still ends up awake more often than not.

~*~

Pyromaniac is a word no one ever expected to become synonymous with Ben, and yet here they are.

It’s one of the first things he always suggests as an answer to a problem; blow something up. Darius has a million reasons for them not to do that; they could get hurt, they could start a wildfire and burn the jungle down, they could attract unwanted attention from predators.

But that doesn’t stop Ben from cataloguing everything on the island that can be used as an explosive, memorizing their locations or creating hidden stashes. It doesn’t stop him from using the candles that came with the scavenged emergency kits. He’ll light them for no reason, just to watch the small flame flicker back and forth.

(Someday, months later, they’ll encounter a horrific hybrid dinosaur that is drawn to flames, and they’ll all think about how unsettling it is that Ben shares this trait, but none of them will say it.)

~*~

It’s been one week since Bumpy left, and Ben is starting a fire.

Just a small one. It rained all day and he’s soaked to the bone, which normally wouldn’t be a huge problem considering the jungle climate. But now that it’s nighttime, there’s a chill in the air and he can’t afford to get sick. It’s risky, because at night he knows the light could draw attention to him, but his teeth are starting to chatter so there’s no helping it.

When a Stegosaurus stumbles upon him, baying low and angry at finding another creature in its territory, it’s the fire that makes it balk. Rumbling displeasure, it retreats back into the dark jungle. Ben quickly adds torches to his arsenal, using the rest of his shirt as tinder.

Fire is safety.

~*~

Ben lights his candles in silence.

~*~

“You can’t just run off like that,” Kenji says, deadly serious.

Ben scoffs. “I think you’re forgetting who defeated Toro,” he says with an easy smile.

“You’re not invincible, Ben!” Kenji snaps. The anger churning inside him is deceptively hollow, like it’s masking something else. “And I can’t lose you again.”

Ben isn’t smiling anymore. “You won’t,” he mutters, pushing past Kenji. “I can take care of myself, now. I don’t need you to play the hero and protect me.”

Kenji wants to protest that’s not what this is about, and that’s never been what this is about, but Ben is already gone.

~*~

Ben still lives off berries and grubs.

~*~

“… and so I was thinking, berries have seeds in them, right? So if we plant some, we’ll have our own berry bushes at the clubhouse. It’ll cut down our foraging time in the mornings for sure, and-”

“Uh, who are you talking to, Ben?”

Ben blinks at Yasmina’s voice, the girl having only just entered the room.

“Um, Bumpy?” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Yasmina glances out at the compound, where Bumpy is fast asleep and well out of earshot.

“… right.”

~*~

Ben can’t sleep, even when he’s actually trying.

~*~

“Alright,” Darius says, “so we need to get the T-Rex out of Main Street so we can do another sweep for supplies. Any ideas?”

Ben’s hand goes up.

“For the hundredth time, Ben, we aren’t going to feed the T-Rex to the Mosasaurus.”

Ben’s hand goes down.

~*~

Ben feels more at home with Bumpy than the other campers.

~*~

“You know we didn’t mean to leave you, right? We would’ve come back for you if we’d known…”

~*~

Ben never talks about getting off the island.

~*~

“You have to tell us where you’re going, Ben, you can’t just disappear-”

~*~

Ben keeps slipping away.

~*~

“Blowing stuff up isn’t the answer to everything!”

~*~

Ben keeps saying he’s okay.

~*~

“We’re a team, we have to work together-”

~*~

Ben keeps smiling.

~*~

“Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

~*~

Ben doesn’t know.

~*~

Sammy finds Ben sitting on the roof of the clubhouse one day.

Her footsteps are loud and obvious as she approaches him. No chance of sneaking up. She knows he’s noticed her, from the subtle shift in his body. He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, continuing to stare off over the jungle and into the horizon, his skinny legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the edge.

The sun’s about to set, a few stars already twinkling in the purple edges of the sky. Sammy can remember another night, months ago, where Ben wasn’t here but everyone else was and they spotted bonfire smoke in the distance. She remembers the way her heart raced, the overwhelming joy and relief flooding through her. And yet, there had been undeniable heartache, because the realization that they’d made it out only meant it was more unfair that Ben hadn’t.

Sammy breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, but she can see the easy smile that slants across his face, dying sunlight reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Sammy sees the lie for what it is. None of them are okay. No one who’s been through what they have would be. But there’s a certain danger that comes with not being willing to admit it, and an even greater danger that comes with not being able to see it.

“Y’know, it’d be fine if you weren’t.”

Ben doesn’t answer.

Sammy sits with him until the sky turns dark.

~*~

It’s the way he struggles to eat anything he hasn’t obtained by himself.

It’s the way he sometimes goes off on his own without telling anyone.

It’s the way he talks to himself when he thinks no one else is around.

It’s the way he takes any concern for his safety as a personal attack.

It’s the way he leaps at the chance to blow something up.

It’s the way he can stare silently for hours.

It’s the way he smiles a little too easily.

~*~

It’s not jumping at every unexpected movement, or screaming awake from night terrors, or flinching away from the slightest touch. It’s not loud meltdowns or hysterical sobbing or uncontrollable fits of rage.

(Even though those will come, someday, when the island is just a memory.)

It’s the little things, that- once you notice them- keep piling up.

And suddenly, they don’t seem so little anymore.

~*~

#jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #jwcc #jwcc fanfic #my writing

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emilia3546 · 4 years ago

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Shadowsinger Part 12 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

*****

Azriel ignored the lingering pain in his ribs, and insisted that he was fine when Gwyn offered to help, he wasn't completely fine, but she'd just worry unnecessarily if he told her. Besides, she was rubbing her shoulder, he didn't want her to make it worse, whatever she'd done to it last night. Where was his jacket? He glanced around, it wasn't in his wardrobe, or tossed aside anywhere,

"Oh!" Gwyn chuckled to herself as she ran out, returning moments later with his jacket, "I've been wearing it," she muttered, only just loud enough for him to hear, and she looked down at the floor, her head snapping up at his soft laugh,

"You've been wearing it?"

"It smelled like you," she mumbled, and he laughed again, gods she didn't even realize what she was doing to him. She shrugged, trying to pass it off, but he noticed the glimmer of relief in her eyes when he didn't complain that she had taken it,

"Now it smells like you." She started, but didn't complain when he wound an arm around her waist, "I'm sorry, is that okay?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't expecting it."

"You weren't?" He mentally kicked himself for the disappointment in his voice,

"No, Az, it's not that I don't want it, I just wasn't expecting you to, that's all, I like being close to you, really." She twisted to look up at him, and relief swelled inside him at the sincerity on her face,

Talk to her. Ask her what she wants.

He knew he should listen to them, should ask her what she wanted from him, but the words froze on his lips, and he just guided her out of the room,

"We should get to the River House." Still, his mind, even his shadows were roaring at him to talk to her properly, to stop being a coward, she had come to find him. She had found him, she had saved his life, she had gotten him out, and now she was here, in his arms as he flew, humming softly to herself, an arm around his neck, playing with the hair at the back of his head. She was so calm, so relaxed, he couldn't fathom why she had chosen him to trust, but he would not let her down. He cradled her head against his chest, she smiled up at him, and he found himself staring into her eyes, only just avoiding flying straight into a bird as he started to spiral downwards to the River House.

Cassian and Nesta were already there when they landed, someone must have gone to fetch them from Madja's house already. Cassian looked fine, but at the same time he didn't, he was smiling, seated on a couch, with Nesta perched on the arm beside him, an arm around his shoulders. His wings were still bandaged, but he didn't look like he was in much pain, although he was a bit quieter than normal, but that was probably just a pain-numbing drug that Madja had given him. His eyes lit up when he saw Azriel, but there was still a hollowness in them, and he was paler than usual, paler than he'd been in a very long time. Azriel squeezed Nesta's shoulder as he passed, and she shot him a grateful glance,

"Feyre just went to settle Nyx, and Rhysand is getting Cass a cup of tea."

"I'm fine," Cassian muttered, "I don't need looking after." Nesta just shot him a glare,

"You're not fine, and that's allowed, I'm looking after you, whether you like it or not." He huffed again, but didn't argue any more, and Azriel raised an eyebrow, usually Cassian enjoyed verbal sparring with Nesta, he never gave up like that. Before he could question it, Feyre walked in, and collapsed on a couch, rolling her eyes, but grinned when she realized that Azriel and Gwyn had arrived, jumping up to hug him,

"How are you feeling?" she muttered when she released him, "You hurt your ribs, right?" She glanced across at Gwyn, who nodded,

"And his leg, but he wasn't limping this morning, and he's not complaining, but it's Az, so who knows." Azriel poked her in the side, setting her off into a fit of giggles,

"My ribs are fine, stop worrying."

"I think we all know that's a lie, but so long as they're not hurting too much." She laughed,

"Really, Gwyn, I'm just a bit sore, but fine." She narrowed her eyes, and forced him to sit down, staying pressed against his side, an arm slipping around his waist. The action didn't go unnoticed, nor did Azriel's arm around her, but no-one commented, and the mood darkened once Rhys had fussed about Cassian as well as Nesta, and was forced to get on with the reason they were meeting properly.

"We know who was responsible now, but what we don't know is his motivation, or where he's gone now. I sent Nuala and Cerridwen to check on the keep after we got home last night, it's empty, completely empty." Azriel winced, if only he had made sure not to lose him, then they'd have a source of information, but he'd failed, again. Gwyn rubbed his side, and his shadows rushed to her, almost hiding her from sight, completely unbidden. She stayed tucked into his side for the whole meeting, and actually let out a squeak of outrage when he mentioned that his brother had wanted to steal the shadows, to gain an advantage in the case of a civil war.

Once Rhys had winnowed Cassian and Nesta back up to the House, Azriel made to scoop Gwyn up, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him,

"Tell me what you're thinking," she murmured,

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"It does. Az, please, something's bothering you, tell me how I can help."

"You can't, it doesn't matter," he insisted, there was no point in explaining himself, she didn't need his burdens as well. Gwyn squeezed his hand,

"Let me help you. Tell me what's bothering you." Azriel lifted a hand to her face, then trailed it across her shoulder, squeezing gently, and she winced.

"That. That's bothering me."

"How did you-"

"You were rubbing it this morning. You got hurt because of me, Gwyn. How can I be okay with that? I let you get hurt, I fucked up, and you and Cass got hurt because of it."

"It was my choice. I came to get you because I chose to, Rhysand asked me to stay behind, I made him let me come with him." Azriel huffed, while that may have been true, his point was that she shouldn't have had to come and get him, he'd gotten complacent, he should have heard them the moment they entered his room, not only once there was a dagger at his throat. "Az?" He'd gone quiet again, and Gwyn ducked under his arm to wrap her arms around his waist, "Talk to me."

"You shouldn't have had to come in the first place, I failed, and you had to come fix it. I won't fail you again, I swear." She looked up at him, her mouth dropping open in disbelief,

"You have never failed me, or anyone else." That wasn't true, but he appreciated the sentiment, and he leaned into her touch when Gwyn reached up to cup his face, "I will always help you if you need me." Azriel didn't speak for a few moments, letting Gwyn's presence ground him, and she stayed in his arms, pressed tightly against him,

"What do you want with me?" He breathed, and Gwyn froze for a moment, "Tell me what you want."

"I-I don't know exactly." She cringed away for a moment, then rushed back to him, "I don't know what I'll be okay with, but I know that I want you, just you, my Az." Oh gods, he could hardly breathe as he beheld her in that moment, he was so deep in with her, but he wasn't scared, not anymore, no, he welcomed it, welcomed the new feeling coursing though him. She was here, and he wasn't afraid, she wanted him, not for sex, just him, and he wasn't afraid, he was falling in love with her, and he wasn't afraid. She closed her eyes when he leaned down to gently kiss her again,

"Then you have me," he whispered and finally lifted her into his arms to fly back up to the House.

*****

Azriel held her tightly as he flew, and Gwyn buried her face in his neck, you have me, he had said, she had him, she had him, and she wasn't letting go, not now, not ever.

She did have to let go once they'd landed, she wasn't going to follow him to the bathroom, he could do that on his own. Still, she couldn't stand still to wait for him, her heart was still pounding, she was sure he must have heard it on the way back. She slipped out into the corridor, his scent following her, but any thoughts of Azriel vanished at the sight of Nesta leaning against her door. Her face was buried in her hands, and she slowly sank to the floor, leaning against the wall, and Gwyn could hear her attempts at deep breaths from down the corridor,

"Nes?" Nesta's head shot up, and Gwyn rushed towards her at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes, "Nesta, what happened?" She breathed as she she dropped to the floor beside her, and pulled her into a tight embrace,

"I don't know what to do." She whispered,

"About what?"

"Cass. He won't let Madja give him any pain numbing drugs, and he doesn't want to worry me, but he's still in pain, and I don't know how to stop it." She sniffed, and rubbed at her eyes, "He's such an idiot, and he won't even admit it."

"Have you explained to him why you're worried?" Nesta nodded, and closed her eyes,

"I've tried, but doesn't want to talk about it, he just tries to kiss me every time I ask if he's really feeling okay, but he's not, and I don't know how to fix it. I can't get him to talk about it, but he's hurting." Gwyn squeezed Nesta's hands,

"Breathe," she murmured as Nesta's breaths sped up, and she sobbed quietly, "Breathe in," Nesta drew in a wobbly breath, "Now breathe out," Gwyn held her hands until Nesta had calmed a little, "Is there a reason he wants you to think he's okay?"

"He's got this idea that there'll be some unrest in Illyria, and he's probably right, but he wants to be able to go and fight if there is, and he'll just hurt himself if he does. I can't watch him get hurt, Gwyn, I can't." Tears brimmed in Nesta's eyes again, and Gwyn gently wiped them away,

"Have you told him that?"

"No. I don't want him to think I'm babying him."

"He won't, you're allowed to be worried about him, he's injured, and it's Cassian, he needs someone to keep him from being reckless. Tell him that's why you're particularly worried. We'll figure it out. We'll figure it all out." Gwyn held Nesta against her, and Nesta clung on to Gwyn as if the world might vanish if she let go. Her breathing slowed, and her sobs quietened until she had calmed down a bit, enough to really think straight. Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but snapped her head sideways at a soft noise from inside the room, Gwyn turned her head to listen, footsteps. Nesta wiped her eyes as the door opened, and Cassian knelt beside her.

"Did you hear all that?" She whispered, and Cassian nodded, devastation marring his face, Nesta never cried, except perhaps over a book, but almost never about real life. Cassian cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the last of her tears,

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, holding Nesta against him, "I didn't want to worry you, that's all," Nesta sniffed again, but threw her arms around his neck, careful to avoid his wings,

"You're an idiot,"

"I know. I promise I won't do anything stupid, even if Illyria is restless at the moment,"

"You'll wait until you're fully healed?"

"Yeah, I'll even let you ban me from fighting until then if you like." Nesta laughed softly,

"Then you're banned from fighting." She said as Gwyn slipped away, leaving them alone, and went to find Azriel. He wasn't in his room, nor in hers, and he certainly wouldn't have gone to the training pitch. Maybe he wanted some space to think, she certainly needed that.

She wasn't sure where she was going, but her legs were moving, following some invisible path. With each step, swords flashed in her mind, with each step she saw Azriel standing alone in that dungeon, she saw Cassian bleeding out, heard Nesta's crying as she tried to save him. With each step she saw what could have happened if she had been mere minutes later, she saw the light in Cassian's eyes fail, she saw Nesta scream, she saw Azriel fall. No. No, she had gotten there on time, she had gotten them all out, they were safe now. She kept walking until she reached a familiar door, not quite realizing how she had gotten there.

The sun was radiant over the streets of Velaris when Gwyn stepped out onto the roof, she gazed at it's rays shining onto the Sidra, the water almost dancing in the light, storefronts filled with people. She froze at the edge of the roof, watching, just watching people go in and out of shops, safe and happy, they were safe and happy, she was safe, and maybe, just maybe, she could work on being happy. The shadow that had stayed with her was lingering by her side, but floating off along the rooftop occasionally,

"What?" Gwyn asked, holding out her hand for it to come back to her. It did, it always did, but it still wanted to go that way, Gwyn followed it, and it danced with joy when she found Azriel sitting with his back to her, shadows around him, blocking out the world. She scuffed her feet a little, just to let him know that she was there, and perched on the edge beside him. Almost, immediately, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her away from the edge,

"You'll fall."

"You'd catch me if I did." She leaned her head against him, and the shadows moved to accommodate her, "I never thanked you for this one," she gestured to the shadow that had followed her around, "It said that you told it to look after me." Azriel smiled,

"It likes you, I didn't even need to ask, I just suggested it."

"Do you want it back?"

"No, I like knowing that you always have something to help you, and it likes you, more than it likes me."

"But I can't talk to it."

"Then how did it tell you that I wanted it to keep you safe?"

"Yes and no questions, it took a while." Azriel chuckled, and cradled Gwyn's head against his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head. Silence reigned across the roof, but Gwyn didn't mind, this was a good silence, a comfortable silence, a safe silence, it was Azriel, her Az, she had always felt safe with him.

"You see that garden there?"Gwyn nodded, "It's always really quiet after dark, it's one of the few places in the city that's ever silent, even at night most of the city is still alive, but there, it's calm, still, I'll take you there at some point if you like." Gwyn grinned, she couldn't help herself,

"It's lovely, what about that?" She pointed at an empty building,

"Oh that's Rita's, it's a club, so it's not even open at this time of day, but it's always really busy, I'm sure that Mor will wan to take you there soon, but I can tell her to leave you alone if you want." Gwyn laughed softly, and shook her head,

"Maybe not yet, with loud music and lots of people, I don't know." Gwyn almost cried at the gentleness as Azriel kissed the top of her head,

"Just tell me the kind of place you want to go, I want to take you everywhere, I want you to see the whole city, but on your terms." Gwyn lifted her head from his chest and gazed into his eyes, she had never looked before, not properly, she knew they were hazel, but now, now she really looked, losing herself in the way the greens and browns flowed over each other, melted into one another.

"Azriel,"

"Mhhhm?"

"Kiss me." He did, gently, briefly, nothing more than a quick brush of his lips against hers, but she didn't want quick, she wanted him. "No. Kiss me." Surprise flickered in Azriel's eyes before he dipped his head again, and wound a hand into Gwyn's hair. She rose up slightly, pressing herself against him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Gwyn's heart was pounding in her chest, so loud that he must have heard it, he must have. It didn't matter anymore, and she opened for him, practically melting into his arms when he carefully squeezed around her waist a little tighter.

She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, not with Azriel beside her, kissing her, his tongue lazily exploring her mouth. She panted for breath when he pulled back, dropping her face into Azriel's shoulder,

"I'd kiss you all day if you let me," he murmured, she wanted to let him, gods damn her she wanted to let him, but she couldn't face racing into whatever this was between them, she could wait. She relaxed into his arms, leaning back against him, and he flopped backwards on the roof tiles, his wings splayed out beneath him. He kept one arm around Gwyn's waist, pulling her down with him, and she nestled into his side, all but falling asleep beside him.

She lost track of how long they stayed there like that, holding each other, at peace, safe and happy. The sun had begun its descent when Gwyn finally moved, rolling over onto Azriel's chest to look him in the eyes. She loved this, but she couldn't ignore everything forever,

"Az?" He opened his eyes, "Nesta thinks there's going to be trouble, Cassian wants to be able to fight soon, Rhysand looked worried earlier, Mor is off at the Hewn City all the time at the moment." He sighed, and pushed himself up to a sitting position, "Is there going to be a war?"

"Yes. I think so."

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn #gwyn acosf #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azwyn #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian x azriel

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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A Dangerous Game

part 27

masterlist

“Mr. Tuan.” She breathed out in surprise eyes wide as she took in the sight of the man before her. “I was under the impression that you were no longer allowed inside the estate.” She raised a brow but continued snipping flowers from the bush. She’d taken to helping in the garden in to alleviate the boredom found by her newfound lack of babysitters.

Namjoon had been on cloud nine ever since the wedding. It had been a peaceful few weeks. With Namjoon having everything he wanted he had even eased up on the security directly surrounding her. With his new legal hold over her and the chip in her neck, he found no reason to keep her constantly surrounded. But that was not to say that security around the estate had gotten lax. Security around the wall of the estate had been increased. Even if she had no guard with her, she was well guarded.

“I was supposed to be smoothing things over with RM after Jackson caused a scene at the wedding. Your husband wasn’t happy with us you know.” Mark shrugged flashing her a charming smile as he leaned against the wall of the house.

“I would think that you would try talking to him at his office. He’s not at the house today.” She laughed as she stared him down. “And as far as I’m aware you’re not allowed to be here.”

“I’m not.” He grinned. “But Jackson wanted to know if you were doing alright.”

“I’m fine.” She huffed clipping a flower more aggressively than she needed to. “You can tell him that.”

He shrugged pushing off the wall and taking the shears from her, setting them down on the patio table. “You’re really fine? Because last time I talked to you, you were asking me to sneak you out of here.”

She had to stifle a laugh at that. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d asked the stranger in the garden to help spirit her away. “Haven’t you heard? It’s in your best interest that I stay here.”

“Is it in your best interest?” He asked offering her an arm which she took as he began to lead her into the garden. She was sure the walk wouldn’t last long though. One of the maids would have reported their visitor to Miss In by now, and Miss In would tell security if not Namjoon himself.

“I don’t think I get a say in that anymore.” She sighed staring up at the leaves. They were just beginning to change. “I’m married now. He won.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He mused. “From what Jackson says, you’re far too tenacious to give up without a fight.”

“Marriage seems a little final, unless you’re telling me to murder my husband.” He made a face as if saying, ‘well are you?’. “He keeps all the weapons locked away, especially after I accidentally stabbed him.”

“Highlight of my year.” He laughed leading up the bridge over the koi pond. “So how long do we have until the cavalry comes to kick me out of here?” He whispered conspiratorially.

“I would think about two minutes.” She nodded laughing as they both settled to lean against the railing looking down at the koi. “You’re crew isn’t very popular around here.”

“What about you?” She looked to him in confusion. “Am I popular with you?” He clarified waggling his eyebrows at her.

“I don’t really know you, but you’re friends with Jackson, and I don’t really like him right now. That being considered, I’m going to have to say no. So sorry.”

“I can’t blame you for that. You know he really did want to get you out of here. JB had other plans though.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a liar.”

“I guess it doesn’t.” He sighed running a hand through his hair. “I am sorry about it, you know. But you have a pretty sweet set up here.”

“Yes, because the inability to leave the house is every girl’s dream.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

“Still not allowed out?” He asked surprise coloring his tone. “I would have thought he’d have eased up on the house arrest after the wedding. Doesn’t he have guards with you all the time?”

“No babysitter anymore, but house arrest is still in full swing.”

“Y/N.” Hoseok called storming over to them his eyes narrowed dangerously and zoned in on Mark.

“Hoseok.” She greeted smile turning strained as the man reached them.

“Tuan.” He growled. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m going.” He backed away raising his hands in surrender though there was a Cheshire grin on his lips. “I’ll see you around, Mrs. Kim.”

Hoseok watched him go remaining stoically at her side watching the other man like a hawk until he disappeared from sight. “Namjoon wants you to join him for dinner tonight.” He told her once he was sure Mark was gone.

“I join him for dinner every night.” She pointed out confused by why tonight it had to be requested.

Hoseok sighed clearly annoyed by her lack of understanding combined with finding her fraternizing with the enemy. “He wants you to join him at a restaurant.”

She froze, her face the picture of shock. Namjoon wanted her to leave the estate to go to dinner? It didn’t seem possible. He never wanted her to leave her gilded cage. “You’re sure we’re talking about the same Namjoon?” She questioned brows furrowed.

“He asked for you to join him. Do you want me to tell him you refuse?” He asked quirking a brow at her.

“Am I allowed to refuse?”

“Not really.” He shrugged unbothered by the obvious lack of choice she had in her marriage. Namjoon was happy, and that was what mattered to Hoseok even if that happiness cost the freedom of someone else.

“Well then I suppose I should get ready then.”

Leaving the estate was slightly surreal. It was the first time she had been somewhere other than on the run or to Namjoon’s headquarters. He was far too paranoid to let her out of the house when she’d proven herself to be a flight risk on more than one occasion. Granted her odds of escape were slim to none when Hoseok was with her. The man wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in her leg if it meant keeping her by Namjoon’s side.

But it was a relief to be outside the walls of the estate. She had begun to get a little stir crazy especially with no Jungkook to keep her distracted, Yoongi to play piano with, or Jin to play narts with. There were only so many activities to keep her occupied in the estate. She was almost beginning to miss having babysitters, which was worrying on so many more levels than she was willing to analyze at that moment. But she was thrilled to be outside of the estate, and that was what she was choosing to focus on.

Of course Namjoon had thought ahead, and she wasn’t going to be in the presence of anyone she could ask for help. Hoseok had led her directly to a private room when they’d arrived at a restaurant that was much fancier than she was used to going to, but she shouldn’t have expected anything less than excellence when it came to Namjoon.

He was sitting there waiting for her when Hoseok ushered her in.

“Y/N.” He smiled standing from his seat to come greet her placing a light kiss on her lips. “You look lovely, jagi.” He removed her coat handing it to Hoseok before leading her to her seat and pushing her chair in. Always the gentleman.

“What’s the occasion?” She asked unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap before turning her gaze back to him.

“We’ve been married for a month, jagi.” He grinned happy as a clam. “I thought we should celebrate.”

A month. It had been a month since the wedding, and she hadn’t even realized. “I see.” She gave him a shaky smile trying to keep the peace though her fingers were nervously plucking at the napkin on her lap.

How could a whole month have gone by without her realizing it? Had she become that complacent with her situation? A whole month of mindless married life had gone by, and she hadn’t even noticed. Every day was the same as it had been for months with the exception of now Namjoon had a free pass for affection and sex, and oh was the man insatiable.

It was like someone had opened the floodgates. It sometimes came to the point where she didn’t get any sleep. She didn’t know where he got all the energy between making her life hell and running his criminal empire. The saving grace of it was that Namjoon was an exceptionally good lover. He always had her seeing stars. The worst part was that she couldn’t even pretend that she didn’t enjoy the sex, and his self-satisfied smirk didn’t help quell her fury.

“I honestly didn’t think I would be allowed outside the estate.” She chuckled nervously trying to look anywhere but at his eyes. This all felt far too similar to their first meeting with the exception of this time she was wearing actual clothing instead of being shoeless in a nightgown. But the dinner, the ambiance, it was all so similar to that first night.

“You’re not a prisoner, jagi.” He scolded lightly. “You’re my wife, and I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“I haven’t left the house in weeks,” She pointed out. “And the last time I did so was for a meeting with GOT7. And before that I hadn’t left the house since you kidnapped me.” She chose to ignore the way that Namjoon’s jaw tensed in annoyance. “There’s not another word for it. It was kidnapping.”

“When you’ve proven you’re not a flight risk, you’ll be allowed to leave the house, with supervision of course.”

“Of course.” She agreed keeping the brittle smile fixed to her face.

Namjoon sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. While he was pleased she was more like herself again, he had to admit he had not missed her barbs and false smiles. He’d enjoyed the weeks of her softer demeanor. She wasn’t quite as firey as she had been, but she had regained a fair bit of her former self, enough to argue with him again at least.

“I don’t want you to be unhappy, jagi.”

She sighed adjusting her smile so that it was a little brighter. “I never said I was unhappy.”

“But you’re not happy.”

Her smile dropped. “I’m trying.” She whispered shifting her gaze back down to her lap. “I’m trying to make the best of this, but you know this isn’t what I wanted from life. You aren’t what I wanted.”

“I know you’re trying.” He sighed leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry, jagi. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t. Forgive me?” He asked eyes softening as he looked at her. “I can make you happy. All you have to do is give me the chance.” She quirked a brow as if challenging the statement but said nothing else though it did elicit another sigh from Namjoon. “I heard you had a visitor today.” He said changing the subject.

“I did.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the staff about keeping the riff raff out.”

“He didn’t mean any harm.” She sighed. “And at least it wasn’t Jackson.”

“Jackson will be shot without hesitation the next time he steps within a hundred feet of the estate.” Namjoon growled fingers clenched tightly around the stem of his wine glass.

“What about your alliance?” She asked carefully. Talking business was Namjoon would be moving into dangerous territory. He knew full well she had no loyalty to him, and telling her anything about the business would be a mistake on his part unless he succeeded in brainwashing her or she came down with a case of Stockholm syndrome.

He paused staring at her with distrustful eyes. He didn’t want her anywhere near his business. He loved her, of course he did, but he didn’t trust her, not with this. “Jaebum is fully aware that if Jackson comes anywhere near you again, I won’t be lenient.” She didn’t need to know that the alliance meant very little to him though. He would get rid of them as soon as he had the opportunity.

“Don’t.” She whispered staring down at her place, her eyebrows scrunched together as though she was contemplating something serious.

“What?” He asked almost disbelieving.

“Don’t shoot him. I may not like him right now, but I don’t want him dead.” She explained. “I owe him a lot.”

Namjoon bit his cheek trying to tamp down his annoyance. Jackson would definitely have to go. He didn’t like the thought of her caring for another man so much, or the fact that she cared for him so much after he betrayed her. The only one she should care for so much should be him, and he had every intention of ensuring that he would be. She was coming around, slowly, but she was coming around.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you.” He smiled, wiping away his sour look. “I have something for you.” She looked at his cautiously. She very seldom enjoyed his gifts. Namjoon pulled a black velvet box out of his jacket pocket placing it on the table in front of her. It was too big to be earrings and not the right shape to be a bracelet. “It’s not going to bite you.” He encouraged amused by her hesitance.

She opened the box to reveal a necklace, simple but beautiful in design. It was a delicate silver chain that trialed down to a small diamond. From that point two far smaller chains descended to connect the first diamond to a second larger diamond though it to was delicate and understated in nature, and she had to begrudgingly admit that it was beautiful and that she loved it.

“It’s beautiful.” She murmured staring down at the piece of jewelry.

“I thought you might like it. May I?” He asked gesturing towards the box, and she nodded. Namjoon stood moving to stand behind her delicately moving her hair away from her shoulder before reaching for the necklace and clasping it around her neck. “Beautiful.” He whispered into her ear before placing a soft kiss just below it. “Just like you. Happy anniversary, my love.”

part 28

#bts #yandere bts #bts fic #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #yandere #soft yandere #rm x reader #rm #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #a dangerous game #fanfic

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sincerelyella · 3 years ago

Text

RAMifications Prologue - Breakaway

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella); Ella x OC

Song Inspiration: Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks and Ethan belongs to me

Summary: How Liam met Ella and their love story.

A/N: This entire idea came from Burnsy and her unBEARable series featuring her OTP Drake x Alyssa Devereaux. This is Ella’s backstory and how she met the love of her life King Liam of Cordonia. This doesn’t follow much of TRR books, there is still a social season but not all of the players are present. Throw canon out the window! If you have not read unBEARable by @burnsoslow (catch up here) I suggest you go and read that first. There are SPOILERS in this series!

Warnings: Except cursing? Not much.

Words: 1129

Ella Brooks was sick of school.

At 25 years-old, she had already busted her ass and gotten her bachelor’s degree in history and political science.. Her parents, however, were less than thrilled about her choice in majors. She agreed to go back to school and was almost done with her bachelor’s degree in nursing at the University of California in Los Angeles, just needing a semester of an internship for graduation. Ella had already told all of her professors that she wasn’t doing an internship abroad before graduation. It was the sudden break up with her long time boyfriend that made her change her mind and want to get the hell out of California.

A week ago

As Ella walked to her car from campus - she had put in a study session at the library - Ella heard loud laughter echoing from the outdoor bar next to where she parked. That sounds an awful lot like … she narrowed her eyes just as she saw that it was her boyfriend Ethan. He was laughing with a blonde haired woman, his arm around her shoulders, face close to hers as they held onto their drinks.

Unable to contain her anger she stalked over to the oblivious pair and tapped Ethan on the shoulder. He turned and the smile he had on his face immediately fell, his eyes widened in shock.

“Uh … Ella, hey! Wh-what are you doing here?”

Ella grit her teeth and tried to compose herself. “Ethan. I was studying, as you know since you were supposed to meet me.”

“W-well, something came up after the meeting.”

Ella’s arms were folded in front of her, her brow arched. There was an awkward silence and the blonde couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hi! I’m Madeleine. Can we help you?” she said, with an oblivious smile on her face.

Ella looked at Madeleine, then back to Ethan. “Actually no, Madeleine. I think I’m done here.” Ella turned and walked towards her car.

Ethan scrambled to stand up, leaving Madeleine at the bar with a perplexed look on her face. “Ella! Wait!”

She kept walking, absolutely seething and determined to get to her car before Ethan caught up with her.

“Ella!” Ethan grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “I’m so sorry, that’s not what it looked like. W-we’re just … friends, me and Madeleine.”

“This is why you flaked out on the study session and had me sit in the library alone for hours? She was your ‘quick meeting at work?’”

“I DID have a meeting!”

“Your meeting consisted of sitting at a bar with your arm around her? Your face was right next to hers! Oh my God, Ethan! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?!”

“S-she had asked me out for a drink and -”

Ella couldn’t stand there and listen to his bullshit anymore. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and walked to her car. “We’re done Ethan,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m sick of all your excuses about all these different women being ‘just your friend’. I’m throwing out all your shit in my apartment if you don’t come get them tomorrow.” She got in her car, turned the ignition and sped off, leaving Ethan standing in the street.

Present-day

Ella dragged her carry on suitcase and personal items past TSA and customs in the Los Angeles International Airport. She stood in line for an hour just for them to wave her throug; she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her long dark hair in two braids, she sported a plain black baseball hat, a plain grey t-shirt, black leggings and Nike sneakers.

Once Ella made it to her terminal she saw people already lining up to board. She presented her boarding pass and went through to the walkway to find her seat. The flight finally took off after a couple stragglers hurried onto the plane and sat down. Ella’s noise-cancelling headphones were a game changer. Damn these were so worth the money.

Ella thought about her life in Los Angeles and how much things have changed. That was two years of my life I’ll never get back. She knew Ethan was never devoted to her, yet she stayed with him out of … familiarity? Complacency?

Time for a new beginning. Ella settled into her seat, waited for the snacks and drinks to be distributed before she fell asleep.

15 hours later

Ella walked through Cordonia International Airport and went into the customs line.

“Miss Ella Brooks?” the customs agent asked while looking at her passport and paperwork.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You’re here for a study abroad internship?

“Yes sir, I’m with the International Medical Aid program with UCLA. I’ll be a nurse intern in the Children’s Hospital at the capitol.”

The customs agent nodded. “Okay and how long will you be here for?”

“Six weeks.”

“Alright,” he stamped her passport and wrote down the dates on her paperwork. “Just know that if you plan on staying longer than that you’ll need to be employed in Cordonia. You either need to extend the dates or file for Cordonian citizenship. ”

Ella chewed on her bottom lip. Stay? “Right, thank you.”

The agent handed Ella back her documents and she was shuffled off into a van with her classmates from the study abroad program.

Five weeks later

In the last five weeks, Ella fell head over heels in love with the little country called Cordonia. The people were friendly, they loved to hear about where she came from and were in awe that she volunteered at a busy ER five days a week. Ella had contacted her university in Los Angeles and requested all her transcripts be sent to Cordonia University. She still had a couple more classes to finish plus her licensing exam to take; she couldn’t begin working as a nurse until those were complete. According to the U.S. embassy, she would need to find a job in Cordonia that was at least two days a week. After six months of steady work, she could file for Cordonian citizenship.

Ella walked outside the Emergency Room of the Children’s Hospital on her lunch break. She loved walking around the capitol exploring the architecture and little shops in the area. There was even a large library next to a fountain of a naked ... person that she sat in for hours. The historical books on Queen Kendra Rys were so interesting, she found herself wondering what it was like to be royalty. The small country was one of the few that was still governed by a monarchy and her political science degree made her even more excited to read the stories.

Ella’s eyes stopped at a shop that sold cronuts and quirked her brow. What exactly is a cronut? She saw two men and a woman sitting inside at a corner table that had what looked like a dozen or more cronuts in front of them. One man had on a black t-shirt with dark jeans and scowl on his face; he was sitting next to a beautiful woman with dark hair and wore a Chicago Bears jersey with jeans. Nice, someone here that knows American football. The other man had on a blue shirt with squids all over it and dark jeans as well. The man with the squid shirt was chattering away with the woman, both seemingly oblivious to the other man’s glowering. Are they going to eat all of that? She shrugged and walked in to try one. Ten minutes later she had eaten two cronuts and had a to-go cup of coffee in her hands.

Time to head back. Ella crossed the street and started towards the hospital. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a small flower truck parked on the curb. A long line had formed right outside the window and whoever was working there looked frantic. She caught a sign on the window that said Help Wanted. Ella arched her brow and stood there thinking for a moment. Oh, why not? She walked over to the window.

“Excuse me! Are you looking to hire someone?”

#RAMifications #Liam x MC #Liam x Ella #Ella x OC #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices trr #trr au #trr #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance au #choices liam x mc #choices trr au #choices liam #pixelberry #play choices

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ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen From Grace Part 2. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Click here for part one!

Luxury surrounds you at every turn, and tonight is so different.

The dish that’s sitting in front of you for tonight is bruschetta, a dish warm and inviting in contrast with its desolate surroundings. Bread grilled in a brick oven with fine, expensive cheese melted onto it, hints of garlic and olive oil mixing in to create a drool inducing image. On top lays a light garnish of parsley, bright green contrasting the deep reds of the tomato.

Every one of your meals is similar in this refined quality. It felt jarring at first, having every need of yours attended to with utmost care. Not only because it’s unusual to be treated with this regard, but because of those who carry the actions out themselves.

They scurry around you, gaze cowering to the ground and voice meeker than a mouse. On the scarce occasion they find it absolutely necessary to ask you a question related to your preferences, their eyes never dare to meet your own. A sudden interest in the top of their shoes develops, or fiddling with any objects in hand. Your premature conclusion was that they were too guilt ridden to even look at you.

Now, lips pressing against a glass and taking in sips of cool water, you know the lamentable truth.

It isn’t that the servants of this villa feel remorse for standing by and enabling your isolation, failing to assist at any opportunity. No, money can soothe any scathing concerns in that regard. It’s a different poison, far more venomous than all consuming guilt. It’s a primal fear of Italy’s most powerful don that drives their complacency, in sight of immoral actions.

Spineless cowards. Every single one of them.

You return the cup to its original place on the long, wooden table. The muted sound is the only one in the grand dining room, aside from occasional silverware hitting a plate across from you. Since the beginning of dinner, you’ve made it a point to ignore him. Too many troubles to count plague your mind, the man on the other side of the table being the source.

Uneasy silence does not last as long as you wish it would. He gently clears his throat, a signal that shouldn’t go ignored. Looking up now, you’re unsurprised to see Giorno’s ever watchful gaze meeting you back. Pale skin is illuminated by flickering candlelight, golden hair framing his mature face.

There’s a closed mouth smile on his face, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Unsettling.

“Do you still not feel hungry?”

Giorno’s voice startles you, fingers twitching by your side. Time is an elusive thing, minutes always seeming to blur together, creating an incoherent mess. How long have the two of you been sitting here? Ten or so minutes, is your guess. Judging from his plate being almost finished, you realize just how long your thoughts were holding you captive.

Swallowing back the bile that creeps into your throat, your eyelids flutter shut. “Ah… something like that. You don’t need to wait for me, I’m sure you’re busy.”

It’s Giorno’s turn now to take a sip from a wine glass, swirling the white liquid before raising it to his mouth. It’s rare that he drinks, a distaste for heavy alcohol consumption a moral code embedded in his person. Moscato d’Asti if you recall correctly, which you declined an offer for earlier. From the bottle alone you surmise it cost a fortune.

“You’ve hardly eaten anything today,” Giorno points out to you, voice leaving little room for argument. He looks at your untouched plate, frowning at the undesirable sight. “Should I have something else prepared for you…?”

Exhaling shakily, you accentuate your disinterest in the subject by avoiding eye contact. It’s been like this lately, always placed under a magnifying glass. A tense exchange between supposed lovers, neither cluing the other of their true agendas. In this twisted parody of a dance, Giorno claims a clear upper hand. He leads you according to his own tempo, never once stopping to let you regain your breath.

Even with him out of your vision, you still feel the crushing weight of his stare. You swallow despite the dryness of your mouth, reaching once more for the soothing glass of water. Panic has long since settled in, disrupting any logical way of thinking and successfully shaking you up. How long can you hide your secrets from him? At this rate, you won’t last much longer.

It all started four, excruciatingly long days ago.

Marco, a guard who you have grown fond of, seemingly vanished into thin air. Along with all the other workers. No explanation, no clues, nothing. The days that followed left you littered with doubts and soul crushing anxiety, taking your every thought hostage. Did something happen to him? If so, what? Did Giorno learn of your secret interactions with him? And if he did, how the hell is he remaining so composed?

“You’ve been zoning out often.”

It’s unfair how he can pick up on your behavior without even trying. Being picked apart and analyzed in real time has never been your favorite, yet it feels even more dreadful now. When you first arrived in this golden barred cage, you had nothing to hide. Now, the burdens of your sins against Giorno threaten to swallow you entirely.

Nails threaten to puncture the soft skin of your palm, hands balled into tight fists on your lap. Every little poke and prod of Giorno’s comments further torments you, sending you into a spiral of never ending despair. Controlling your outward reactions is the bare minimum you can offer at the moment, too skittish to do anything else. Even the sight of delicious food in front of you sends your stomach churning, the scent of it bringing nausea rooted in crippling anxiety.

He has to know, right? Everything would make so much more sense if he did. It would explain this surreal, benevolent streak that emerged from him seemingly unprompted. It’s not that Giorno was ever outright cruel to you, until this point, you were given your space. No longer is that a luxury you can experience.

The past few days he’s been practically glued to your side, giving you no time to get your bearings. An unrelenting attack from all angles. It’s an impossible feat to maintain a facade of cluelessness like you were able to before.

Giorno tilts his head, still awaiting a proper answer. Gathering what remnants of strength that remain, you hurriedly utter to half the truth. “I-I haven’t been feeling well.”

This disclosure earns you a worried glance. He looks at you a moment longer -- as if searching for something -- before pulling back his chair. It groans against the wooden floor in protest, steady footsteps approaching you. Now by your side, he bends down to inspect you further. A tentative hand is placed to your forehead, assessing your condition from a closer perspective.

“You don’t feel warm.” he murmurs while retracting his hand, the action giving you a chance to breathe normally again. Does that mean he thinks you’re lying? Not giving you any further hints at his inner thoughts, Giorno stands by your seated form in silence. In hopes of avoiding suspicion, you come up with a rushed explanation.

“I’m tired, that’s all,” you scratch your cheek, finding difficulty in maintaining your composure. “It’s really nothing to worry about, Giorno. A few restless nights won’t do me in.”

If a physical ailment was bothering you, Giorno’s ability could serve to aid you. There isn’t anything his Stand can do for exhaustion though, not to your knowledge. He blinks, long eyelashes fluttering in the process. Whether he believes you or not is in the air. The topic is left to the wayside for now, much to your inner relief.

You had gotten sick once in the past. Even more freedoms were stolen from you, health professionals sworn to Passione monitoring you around the clock. Privacy was nonexistent, a true nightmare of an experience. It was only a mild fever, nothing that could cause any true harm. Giorno took it seriously, acting in an abundance of over protection until you recovered.

It won’t be ideal for you if that happens again. For almost a week you were forced to the confines of your bed, taking bitter medicines and eating only bland, nutritious food. That period of time made you go borderline stir crazy, having nothing to do aside from entertaining your malicious thoughts. If he’s thinking about putting you through that again, you’re unable to tell.

Composed and serene as ever, he takes your hand up from your lap with tender affection.

“[First]...” your name rolls off his tongue in a low tone, his deep voice and close proximity causing your pulse to quicken. “If there’s anything on your mind, know that you can come to me.”

Your breath hitches, all hairs on the back of your neck standing. So he has noticed, or believes your anguish is related to something other than physical illness. It makes more sense why he’s insisted on having you in his presence, to keep you in his sight. To make sure you’re not misbehaving.

The coarse pad of his thumb rubs over your hand in slow, methodical circles. Involuntarily, your hand begins to tremble. There’s not an opportunity to state your case against his words before he speaks up again, words intent on placating you.

“There must be something I can do for you. I hate seeing you troubled like this.”

You need to think of a diversion. Fast. He’s eroding your defenses, goading you into spilling the hideous truth of your disobedience. A small voice in your head pleads with you, whispering that maybe he’ll forgive you if you confess now. For you to beg for amnesty, claiming the depths of loneliness you’ve felt all this time. Would that cause him to take pity on you?

Or would you suffer greater lengths than before for your misdeeds?

Pushing down the temptation, a hopeful idea comes to mind. Deft fingers wrap around his hand, a tired smile on your lips. “You’re very considerate. It really isn’t anything bad, I’ve just had a few rough nights. I’ll try sleeping earlier tonight and seeing if that helps.”

Giorno gives your hand a final squeeze before pulling away. “Ah, of course. Whatever you feel is best.”

It’s a small victory, holding purpose to you. You can’t make any moves under his scrutinizing presence, the threat of alerting him by acting suspicious constant. He can’t be around like this forever, Giorno’s position requires constant attention. Even a few days into him not leaving the premises, you’re having trouble adjusting. It has to be a temporary arrangement, he won’t always be able to monitor you. When the opportunity presents itself, you’ll learn the truth about Marco.

You swear this to yourself.

“I’ve read that relaxing before going to bed helps with sleeping problems. Let’s walk around the gardens together, and see if that helps.” he phrases it like a suggestion, but you know better. It looks like you won’t be escaping Giorno’s presence anytime soon, an oasis of sleep slipping through your fingers like sand. Offering a meek nod instead of utilizing your voice, you mimic his previous actions and get up from your seat.

Giorno extends an arm to you, which you accept. It’s not that you want to, per se, it’s that you need to maintain the charade from before. Marco suggested to you that if you act less combative to your husband, he might grant you more freedoms. Which you desperately want to attain. In light of his sudden disappearance, it would be suspicious to stop acting like this. Reverting to your former harsh behavior won’t do anything good.

The new disposition worked in your favor. Instead of ignoring Giorno or cursing him like before, you acted tamer. And, as Marco predicted, some embargoes on your freedoms were steadily lifted. Acting like a loving wife to a man you feel nothing about animosity for isn’t an easy task. It’s a survival tactic.

You catch a whiff of Giorno’s light cologne, the scent dotting your skin with goosebumps. He’s always been a man of fine taste, you must confess. Once at his side, he begins to walk in the familiar direction of his outdoor gardens. The spot is a grandiose one, awe-inspiring flowers from all over the world appearing in full bloom. Even out of season plants are capable of flourishing, which you suspect is due to Giorno’s Stand.

For such a reprehensible person, he sure has a beautiful ability.

He looks lost in his own thoughts for most of the walk, and finally speaks up often a prolonged silence. “I’ve noticed how you enjoy your time in the gardens.”

Struggling to keep up with his pace and balance your rapid thoughts, you take a moment before responding. “Gardening is something I always wanted to try. When I first looked into it, I never realized how expensive a hobby it is.”

He hums in response, offering a moment of reprieve from stressful conversation.

When the two of you walk outdoors, you’re greeted by the crisp evening air. The sun is just beginning to set in the sky, warm colors embracing the expansive greenery. A main path leads up to an outdoor fountain, which emits a noise of rushing water. On either side of you are a variety of shrubs, pink and blue hydrangeas in bloom. A cicada beats its wings in the distance, a telltale time of summer.

The openness the outdoors brings with it a false sense of solace. You prefer this to the confining walls of inside Giorno’s mansion, which bring with them melancholic memories. A single aspect of this area has earned your ire, the large window above that is attached to his office. You’ve looked up to see Giorno watching over you for a few seconds. Further cementing the idea that you’re never truly alone.

Silence settles in between the two of you, weaving through winding paths and mossy stone arches. This is a part of the garden you don’t come to as often, you notice. Rounding a final corner around some hedges, you spot a stunning collection of flowers that must be new. From a dark center, pointed petals emerge, jet black in color with hints of crimson on the edges.

Giorno pauses to observe the mesmerizing blossoms as well, reaching out to inspect a petal. As soon as he touches it, his lips curl into a frown, almost like he’s remembering something. “A few days ago, I decided I wanted this addition. I got what I needed to grow it this morning.”

You thought that Gold Experience could create life from anything, so it doesn’t make sense to you why he needed to wait for the arrival of something. Maybe even Stands have limits? Any desire to ask about it is stifled by the fact that you’re talking to Giorno, curiosity fizzling out as fast as it sparked.

He pulls a handkerchief out from a pocket within his suit, and wipes off his fingers that had touched the flower.

“Black dahlias. It isn’t a flower most people would associate with summer, but I found myself interested in them.” he offers a look into his inner thoughts, a rare occurrence. You wait patiently, sensing he has more to say.

“All plants have different meanings, some even having their own folklore. Tell me, [First], what do you believe black dahlias represent?”

A perplexing question. Not wanting to offer a halfhearted answer in fear of being reprimanded, you give it some thought. Darker colors typically symbolize negative feelings, at least in literature. It’s possible the same logic applies here. In the distant past, you’d read online about an unsolved murder case in America by the name of The Black Dahlia. It seems anything with the name can’t be a good omen.

Humming in thought, you offer the best guess you can concoct. “I’m not the best with stuff like this… if I had to guess, I’d say it means suffering. Or something to that effect.”

“Very close. Not quite,” Giorno’s eyes betray the calm delivery of his words, a hidden storm within. “What black dahlias symbolize… is betrayal.”

You’d swallow if you could.

In a single instance, it feels like all the air has been forcibly punched from your lungs, body going numb and blood running cold as ice. Every ounce of strength that hasn’t been sapped from you goes to keeping your knees from buckling, mouth dry and tongue like sandpaper. He doesn’t blink, waiting patiently to see what your next move will be.

He knows. You don’t know how, but he knows. Similar to how a predator toys with its prey before devouring it, he’s testing you. Gauging for a reaction, savouring the guilt that rolls off you in palpable waves. Options and time are limited, both a dry well as he expects a response.

Your resolve begins to wilt, perishing under the harsh conditions it's been placed. Roots crumbling and petals falling to the ground, it’s a competition within your mind to see what thought will win. Marco risked his own livelihood in order to give you companionship, to make you feel human again. Can you stay afloat under this immense pressure?

With unexpected speed, you decide. There’s no backing down now. You’ll see this treacherous charade through until the bitter end. It’s what you owe to him, what you owe to yourself. If it’s games that Giorno wants to play, then so be it.

“My guess was close then, wasn’t it?” you force a light laugh at the end of your sentence, straightening your posture and giving him your best smile. Within the depths of his countenance is an unidentifiable emotion, his jaw tight and eyes studying. All intensity melts away within an instant, the Giorno you’re used to seeing reappearing in front of you.

“Yes, yes it was.”

Without his prompting to do so, you wrap your arms around his arm once again. Letting out a soft exhale, you speak up, hoping to rid yourself of this tense atmosphere. “A walk was just the thing I needed. I feel better already, still a little tired though…”

It isn’t a regular occurrence that you touch Giorno of your own will. You can’t remember the last time you’d done it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He subtly leans into your touch, welcoming the warmth it brings. Hope erupts within your chest, that you can still play innocent and get away with your grievances.

Now that you’ve been removed from the moment, your mind is clearer. Capable of reasoning with itself, instead of scrambling to react. It’s a possibility that Giorno has an inkling of suspicion, and nothing solid to grasp it. Giving yourself up and playing right into his hand is exactly what he wants, and you adamantly refuse to do it. It’s shameful that you even thought about giving up, even if it was only for a brief moment.

It could be the fried nerves, that you find yourself rambling more than you normally do. “I never asked, but how was your day? You always ask me about mine, so it seems right that I’d return the favor.”

“Busy, not much more than usual though. I regret not being able to join you for breakfast. I had... something to attend to.” Giorno reminisces back to this morning, tone lighter than before. It looks like your hunch of him not knowing anything concrete could be true. A passing breeze ruffles through your hair, cool air serving to calm you down more.

You can do this. You’ll make it through the storm, and find out the truth on your own terms.

“There’s always tomorrow,” you gently tug at his arm, back in the direction of the house. “Can we… can we head back? I still want to try and sleep, even if it’s early.”

Never one to deny you anything, he starts the walk back, and you follow suit. “I’ve never seen you this talkative before, [First].”

You’ve never felt the need to talk this much until now. Rambling about nonsensical topics gives your overwhelmed brain a much needed reprieve. If there’s anything good you have to say about Giorno, it’s that he’s an excellent listener. Never interrupting, always offering his full attention. He never offers his input more than he sees necessary.

The comment doesn’t feel like a pointed one, rather a truthful observation. You let out a sigh.

“I’ve always had a lot to say,” you start with a purse of your lips, mindful of yourself. But I hate you. “Once you get me talking, you’ll miss the days I was quiet.”

He doesn’t buy into the self derogatory statement, and shakes his head. “I could never tire of hearing your voice.”

You open your mouth, only to close it again. Warmth erupts onto your face, the genuine delivery of a line only Giorno could deliver properly. Displays of heartfelt fondness leave you taken aback, never allowing you to understand the man by your side. How can he say in good conscience that he loves you, while taking you from everything you’ve ever known?

Giorno Giovanna, who you’ve spent a little over a year with, is still an enigma to you.

When you spoke with Marco, rarely did either of you bring him up. Out of respect for your feelings, you guess. On the rare occasion you did ask a question about Giorno, there weren’t any clear answers. All he knows is that Giorno took over Passione at a young age, and issued wide reform of the gang that extends worldwide.

The fact is an intimidating one, since he’s so close to you.

Now back inside, evening has settled in. Long halls are deserted of any life, only you and Giorno occupying them. It’s off putting, you can’t think of the last time you’ve seen this home so empty. There must be someone here, if your meals were made. Other than that, the only human being you’ve seen is Giorno.

Your shared master bedroom is on the second floor, and after an uneventful trip, he holds the large doors open for you to enter first.

Lavish and not obnoxious in its designs, this room is where you spent all your time when you first arrived. Not of your own will, since you were antagonistic. Looking at the custom glass windows, it brings back memories of desperately trying to break them with different furniture. Then the noise of doing so getting you in even more trouble.

Next was an iron shackle against your ankle, metal cold against your skin and uncomfortable.

Compared to that, you should feel like your current condition is better. Now it’s mental strain instead of physical. There never is rest for the weary.

Hands of the grandfather clock in your room read 8:24 PM. Your guess is that Giorno will dismiss himself any moment now, heading to his office and giving you much needed space. It’s an unspoken routine that you’ve fallen into. Though you ultimately sleep in the same bed at night, Giorno doesn’t join you until much later, if at all. Being in charge of Passione is a full time commitment.

With a muted thud, the door closes behind you. Giorno draws the curtains over the windows shut, cutting off what little sunlight shone through. Fully mesmerized with his graceful actions, you find yourself staring. It’s when he starts unzipping the top of his royal blue suit that you realize he isn’t intending to leave anytime soon.

Looking for something to preoccupy yourself with, you get ready for bed yourself. The marble ground of the master bathroom feels cold against your bare feet, causing you to shiver and mutter a quiet curse. After brushing your teeth, you open the door to see Giorno still getting changed, bare back facing towards you. Why is he still here?

Reading your thoughts, he turns around, white pajama shirt in hand. “Is something wrong, [First]? You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

He can be teasing when he wants, much to your chagrin. Sucking in a deep breath, you give your honest thoughts in a strained voice. “It’s just, I thought you’d have work to do.”

“I’ve taken care of what I need to today,” he lifts the plain shirt over his head while he speaks, the material stretching against his defined muscles. “So, I’ll spend time with mi cara. It’s been a trying week.”

Well, that makes two of us.

His last comment makes you curious. Giorno isn’t the type to complain, if he sees a problem he dedicates himself to fixing it. What is it that managed to earn an admission like that? You’ll test your luck and press further, seeing if you learn anything. It could be related to Marco’s disappearance.

“Trying…?” you repeat back, testing the word on your tongue. Giorno pulls his braid over his shoulder, and you recognize what that means. Before he gets the opportunity to fiddle with the restraints himself, you walk over to his side and start on it. He allows you to do so, shoulders relaxing as you pull the hair tie out.

“I shouldn’t burden you unnecessarily.”

His golden hair is like silk between your fingers, having a light floral scent. You furrow your eyebrows while working through undoing the braid, combing through it. He subtly leans into your touch, eyelids fluttering close at your soothing maneuvers. Prying the truth from him will take more effort.

“It’s not a burden.” you reassure, pulse quickening at the anticipation his silence brings. Worst case scenario, he’ll deflect again and you’ll drop the subject. Feeling inquisitive leaves you unsatisfied, Giorno opting to leave you in the dark about most matters.

“There was a plot uncovered, relating to you.”

Your actions cease, body frozen on the spot.

“It was a threat on your life to weaken me. This morning, everything was taken care of, so you have nothing to worry about. That’s the reason I’ve been working from home the past few days,” he runs a hand through his hair, and turns to face your stunned form. “I’d never allow any harm to befall you. New staff will be replacing the previous one, there’s nothing to disprove that they weren’t all involved.”

“A few workers were going to get close to you, and draw out information about me. Then... ah, well. It doesn’t matter now.”

What he’s saying makes logical sense. You’re the wife of a powerful man, who has more enemies than you could ever hope to count. Your mind drifts to Marco, and the time that you had spent with him. A seed of doubt is planted within you, knowing that Giorno distrusted his former staff enough to get rid of all of them. Those men and women were tested vigorously, so for him to now distrust them...

That leaves a single, haunting question that you don’t want to entertain. Was Marco getting close to you, with the sole purpose of murdering you at the best opportunity? It… it can’t be like that. You spent hours by his side, laughing and reminiscing over snacks and games. He told you about his family, the misfortune that befell his sweet sister, his inner conflict of working for Giorno at your expense.

When Marco rarely spoke of Giorno, he did ask a few questions about his routine. You thought it was so the two of you could speak together with ease, and sneak around.

You had cared for him. In the deepest sentiment your broken heart could conjure, you really did. It was the highlight of your day, what you looked forward to every morning when you woke up. The reassurance he would offer, giving you that extra push to carry on your miserable parody of a life.

Mouth agape, no words can form on your dry tongue. Giorno must mistake your inner conflict for worry over the undone plot on your life, running his hands up and down your arms. He pulls you into a hug in hopes of comforting your shaking form, and you hate yourself for accepting it.

Nothing makes sense. This has to be a trick, a cruel misunderstanding. Why has the universe seen fit to toss and turn you at every chance, jostling your being to the core. Vacillating between two sides of yourself, the one that wants to believe him and the one that doesn’t.

Wetness drips down your cheeks, finally breaking down. You sniffle against his shoulder, even more upset with yourself for willingly accepting his embrace. It’s not that the thought of death bothered you, it’s what your trust was broken. Was everything Marco told you a ruse?

You don’t know. You suppose no one other than the aforementioned person knows, if he’s still alive. It’s embarrassing, truly humiliating to know you told him the secrets of yourself. All for it to amount to nothing, a dagger twisting into your side repeatedly.

Giorno hushes you, pulling you tighter against him. He coos sweet words into your ear, now rubbing the small of your back. You take all of him in, accepting him in a moment of profound weakness. There’s deep pain, first, then nothing. Emotions come to a halt, numbness settling in as you cease weeping.

What is there to feel now?

Soft lips press against your forehead, Giorno offering a chaste kiss. This amount of physical affection is the most he’s ever given you at once, now offering you all of himself. Too weak to protest, you close your eyes, wanting to sleep and never worry about anything again.

Why try anymore.

Giorno... did he speak the complete truth? That you can only trust him? He’s given you everything you could ask for, always turning the other cheek when you lashed out at him. He loves you, in his own twisted way. Even after all the rejection you spewed at him, he loves you still.

“Amore, oh amore,” he whispers into your ear, warm breath causing you to shudder. He pulls back from your amorous embrace, taking your face in his thumb and lifting it. “I’ll take care of everything. Come, let’s get you cleaned up for the night. You must be tired, hm?”

So, so tired. Of everything. Of this life you live.

Arms sneak around your shaking torso once more, and he places his head atop yours. Tears are gone for now, a well long dried up. Now, you stand and shake. Head devoid of coherent thoughts, limp against him. He holds you up, keeping you steady.

You close your eyes. Has Giorno always smelled this pleasant? It’s starting to grow on you. Your ear is against his chest, his skin pressed against your own. Listening carefully, you hear the steady thump of his heart. The one before that you thought to place a knife through, now bringing you solace.

What a joke this world is.

Giorno accepts you, always. Like he said time and time again, the words now settling in. You mutter something against his chest, voice seemingly inaudible. Even you are uncertain of what they are, yet he seems to understand nonetheless.

And he smiles, content.

#giorno #giorno giovanna x reader #yandere giorno #yandere giorno giovanna #yandere giorno giovanna x reader #yandere giorno x reader #Giorno Giovanna #giovanna giorno #giorno x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere jojo's bizzare adventure #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #commissions

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softjeon · 4 years ago

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Blood of the covenant | Pt.3

• Pairing: wolf!yoongi x jungkook • Genre: angst, fluff | Rating: mature | wolf!AU (inspired by the tv show ‘bitten’) • Words: 11k | AO3 • Disclaimer: violence, blood, death, mood swings (because: wolves, duh)

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ “The pack needs you.” It was an order, not a question and Jin didn’t even give him time to answer, when he spoke clearly, “I need you to come home right now.”

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Breakfast the next morning was just as weird. Jungkook had gotten up early and because the bed next to him had been empty he had went down into the kitchen to see if Yoongi was there. He was - together with almost everyone else.

It was absolutely quiet while they drank their coffee or inhaled their food and Jungkook wondered if he had missed something. They all looked tired, lost in their own thoughts and Jungkook stood at the door for a moment, wondering if he should say something or be as quiet as them and tiptoe over to Yoongi to get some coffee.

Namjoon took the decision from him. He came from the bathroom about to pass Jungkook to get in the kitchen when he stopped and lingered for a moment behind him. The younger froze when Namjoon picked at his neckline gingerly and pulled down his shirt until the skin was visible. “He doesn‘t bite your neck, does he?“ He whispered and yet it was clearly audible in the kitchen’s silence. There was a complacent tone in his voice and when he finally walked past him Jungkook could see his smug smirk. “Such a pity that Yoongi can‘t live out his true nature just because he chose to be with someone so...fragile.“

For the nth time, Jungkook’s cheeks darkened and he hurried over to take a seat next to his boyfriend, a little too close, feeling more than uncomfortable and exposed right now. They were still looking at him and only when Jin cleared his throat, did they all return their attention to their food. Being too tired, he hadn’t even fully taken on the breakfast table, that was richly filled with food, fruits and loads of bacon piled on a plate. Hoseok immediately reached for it, licking his lips in hunger as he filled up his own plate. “I see where you got your love for breakfast from,” Jungkook whispered towards Yoongi, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. Although his family wasn’t quite welcoming, it was nice to see where Yoongi got his habits from. “Why didn’t you wake me up? You always wake me up...” The younger leaned in a little more, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop (not aware that a wolf could hear perfectly fine without any trouble for a long distance). A pout appeared on his lips, “I looked for you last night…”

“I’m sorry, Kook. We had to talk about some family stuff, and it got way later than planned. Did you sleep well at least?” He gave Namjoon a glare when the other looked over to them, obviously still amused. There was no doubt that he was eavesdropping, laughing about the fact that Yoongi had to lie to Jungkook's face.

Jungkook shook his head softly, “I never sleep well if you’re not by my side. I got cold.” He frowned, taking one of the buns that Jimin offered him with a smile and thanked him quickly. “Is there anything else you have to do today? I thought I’d maybe want to take a walk around the grounds. It’s a really beautiful forest and last night…” His eyes began to gleam in excitement, “I saw some foxes or something. I’m not sure. I bet there's loads of bunnies and…”

“No!” Jin interrupted him before Yoongi could open his mouth. “You can’t just run around here, first it’s rude and second it’s dangerous. You might know foxes as cute little pets from TV or whatever you get your information from, but they are wild animals, not pets to cuddle.”

“I bet he can’t even tell the difference between a fox and a wolf...” Namjoon chimed in but Jin’s look made him shut up as he rather finished his porridge.

Jungkook couldn’t help but sigh. “I didn’t mean to cuddle the foxes but simply to take a stroll around.” He bit his tongue, not wanting to make it worse and simply gave Yoongi an apologetic look that told him more than a thousand words. Jungkook got up, thanking the others for the food and left the kitchen without another word, trying to ignore the scoffs coming from Yoongi’s family.

Yoongi followed shortly after. “Jungkook? Are you okay?” It was exhausting trying to keep both sides of his life from destroying each other and he wished he could just pack up his things and leave but it didn’t work like that. As a pack member you had duties to fulfill, like coming when called even if you had your own life and different views than your pack leader. Jin could have actually done much worse than just giving him a hard time, if he had insisted on his right as a leader he could have told the others to hunt him down and they would have had to obey. So, in a way Yoongi was still thankful…but seeing Jungkook hurting, hurt him too.

“You don’t have to listen to them, you know? Though... part of what Jin said is true. The grounds look beautiful, but they are actually very dangerous. It’s not all trees and moss and you could easily slip or fall - I broke my ankle a week after I came here for the first time because I underestimated how easily one can fall over roots or lose footing on the gravel. Also... there are wolves, you know.”

“I won’t go there if you don’t want me to…I just…I’m trying,” Jungkook could feel the tears burning in his eyes, the hurt and the disappointment clogging his throat and making it harder to breathe. “But they don’t even give me a chance, it’s like…they already have a set image of me, and I don’t even know what I did wrong. I want them to like me, Yoongi. They are your family and…” He blinked, turning his head to not let his boyfriend see how much it was hurting him. “I shouldn’t have come here. M-maybe I should get a hotel room? Then you can just get me when we drive home again after the funeral. It won’t be long until then, right?”

Yoongi pulled Jungkook close, aching for the younger and his attempts to still be kind towards his family. “Kook, please don’t trouble yourself with their opinions. They don’t need to like you, I know you’re gorgeous and that’s enough, right? I won’t change my mind about you just because they are coset minded idiots. You did nothing wrong! They just don’t like people... from the city. It’s all just prejudices and stereotypes. I’ve tried to prove them wrong a long time ago and it didn’t help so please don’t get your heart into this. It’s not worth it.” He gently wiped away the younger's tears, waiting until Jungkook signaled him that he was okay. “You shouldn’t get a hotel though, it’s expensive and the hotels here are not... that good and they won’t be kinder to you. All the people around here are weird, it’s a small town thing... I would understand it if you would want to go home though. I’d feel better knowing that you are okay there and don’t have to listen to all that … bullshit they say. Believe me, I only didn’t throw my breakfast at Namjoon’s face because ... getting Jin angry is bad for your health.”

There was a smile on Jungkook’s lips, when Yoongi talked about throwing his food at the others. It was always easy for him to make him smile again, to feel a little better. Jungkook nodded, taking in a deep breath as he relaxed a little more into his boyfriend’s hug. “I’ll stay until the funeral. If you need to stay here longer then, I’ll go home but I want to be there for you then. I don’t care what they say.” He placed a kiss on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi’s smile wavered a little. He had kept his words vague when Jungkook had caught him packing but now with the younger here he needed to get a little more specific - without giving too much away. Why couldn’t he be a better liar and make up stories on the spot that made more sense and wouldn’t make Jungkook more suspicious? Yoongi licked his lips, deciding he would put as much truth into this as he could without getting reprimanded by Jin, but he would only make things worse if he kept lying. He didn’t want to lose his relationship over this!

“The funeral is today... but we won’t attend it. It’s not one of ours, it’s a man from the village.” Of course, Jungkook looked surprised and so he kept going, quickly, before his boyfriend could ask too many questions. “The thing is he was found on our - on Jin’s - ground and it was a wolf that’s why... we need to find that wolf. Before the villagers come here and wreak havoc. I should have told you the truth right away, I’m sorry, I… I didn’t want you to worry. That’s why Jin and I really don’t want you to walk around here. The wolf probably won’t come close to the house, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Will you promise me to stay in? Please?”

“A…a wolf attack?” Jungkook furrowed his brows, trying to wrap his head around all of this new information. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought…I thought a family member…” He took a step away from Yoongi. There was something Yoongi didn’t tell him. “I was worried out of my mind for you. Why do they need you to find the wolf? The police should do that…”

Of course, Jungkook kept asking questions! He was too curious for his own good! And as much as Yoongi loved Jungkook for his urge to get to the bottom of things and stick to the truth right now it was making this conversation really uncomfortable. “The police and us... we’re not on good terms. Also... it kind of is our fault that it happened on our grounds, isn’t it, so it’s a thing of honor to ...make sure that never happens again. We know the grounds best and we are way better at…”

The sound of someone clearing his throat had him flinching. He had been so focused on Jungkook and trying to make this believable without telling him the actual truth that he had missed Jin coming up to them.

“Yoongi? I’d like to talk to you for a second.”

Jungkook instinctively turned away from the other, whose eyes seemed to be piercing into Yoongi. “I…I’ll be in our room.” He whispered, giving Yoongi a quick kiss, before he walked up the stairs quietly. Jungkook really didn’t like the way Jin was talking to them, as if he were bossing them around. Even if it was his house, he had no right to talk to them like this – but he also didn’t want to give Yoongi more trouble.

Jin continued to look at Yoongi with his piercing gaze until the silence stretched between them and Yoongi got nervous. "What is it?"

Jin scoffed, "Do I really have to spell it out for you? I don't believe you've forgotten our rules. 'Killing humans is only allowed in defense or to protect the pack'. The more you tell Jungkook the closer he gets to becoming a threat and I don't want to be forced to order his killing." Yoongi balled his fists, ready to snap at Jin but the other held up his hand to stop him. "Don't. I know what you want to say, and I know that you meant it when you told me you'd rather die trying to save Jungkook than following and order like that. Which we both know you would because you don't stand a chance against five of us, especially not while having to protect someone who can't protect themselves. So, let's just hope it won't come to that. I just wanted to remind you." With that Jin left him standing and torn, as Yoongi wanted both to be with Jungkook in an urge to physically shield him from harm and to go after Jin to tell him Jungkook wasn't a threat to the pack and would never be.

If he had known Taehyung was up in their room he would have probably chosen the former.

Taehyung had heard the steps on the stairs, but he still couldn't slip out of the room unnoticed so he and Jungkook were awkwardly standing in the door. Taehyung reacted quickly, "There you are. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to get a coffee or some tea...as your breakfast was cut short. We could try to break the ice a little, get to know each other..." He was a smooth liar and yet there was some truth in it. He actually was curious about the human that had stolen a werewolf's heart.

Jungkook eyed the other nervously for a second. Was it a trap to get to know more about him only to bash him in the end for their relationship again? He couldn’t tell. Taehyung hadn’t been the one talking badly about him so far, so Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to push down the doubts (and thoughts why the other had been in their room). “I wanted to take a walk into the village anyways, maybe you could show me around?” Jungkook smiled, a little too warily still - but he tried. He wanted to get to know Yoongi’s family, so even if this was a trap, maybe he could get to know a few things himself.

“The village?” Taehyung hesitated for a second but then he gave him a broad smile. “Sure, let’s get out to the village and drink some coffee there, or something sweet like a hot chocolate for you?” They went down the stairs and Taehyung held the door open for Jungkook, only remembering to take his coat when the younger one put on his own.

Taehyung had pulled him along quickly and Jungkook couldn’t quite stand a chance and so the coat had been the only thing he could grab, before heading out in the cold. “Jin won’t be mad, right? That we’re taking a walk into town...I only promised him not to take a walk in the forest, right?” They stayed on the path, but Jungkook’s eyes seemed to be drawn back into the woods. “Yoongi explained it to me. Are you scared of what they’ll say about you, too? You can’t really be at fault for a wolf’s attack, just because it happened on your grounds, right?”

“He’s not a fan of the villagers but he only told us to not go alone there. And we’re not alone, are we?” He winked at Jungkook conspiratorially but then his face turned serious again. “I’m not scared but I understand why they are. They don’t know much about us and it’s a small town with lots of rumors and then there’s someone dead... we didn’t kill him, but I do think we have some kind of fault in this. It’s our land and we are responsible for what happens in it. We should have noticed that there was a rogue wolf. It won’t happen again though. We will find it and make sure it doesn’t kill again and then guard our land even more.”

Jungkook nodded, not really sure what Taehyung had meant with guarding their land more. It sounded strange, as if they would be walking patrol to not let any wolf in. That would be insane to do. The grounds were wide, it would take ages for one human to secure it all. He kept quiet, following the other who was telling him some kinds of random stories about the village until they finally arrived at a coffee shop.

The people’s head turned around immediately and Jungkook felt awfully put on the spot, but it wasn’t him who they were looking at but Taehyung. A grip on his shoulder, made him stumble ahead and to a table in the corner. “Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asked and when Taehyung urged him on to speak, he lowered his voice. “I don’t want to sound rude, but I have only known about you guys for a couple of days now and...I feel like...there’s something that I don’t get? You don’t really seem to hate me, do you? But Jin...he pretends as if he knows me. I really don’t want to harm any of you guys. I’m just here for my boyfriend, whom I really love.”

Taehyung placed his chin in his hand and grinned at Jungkook. “You’re a smart cookie, aren’t you? I don’t mind your questions, but you shouldn’t ask Jin any, he doesn't like that. You’re totally right, though, there are things you don’t get. We’ve all been living together for ages. And... I’m not sure if Yoongi told you but we’re not related in the usual way, we’re more a chosen family kind of thing. So, the villagers think we’re creepy or Jin’s a pervert collecting boys or something and they treat us as such. So Jin’s very, very careful of other people. And you kind of snatched Yoongi from him that’s why he doesn’t like you. Not you as a person, just you as someone who made Yoongi move to the city. You really do love him, don’t you? It’s not the kind of love that’s based on desire and novelty, you’re genuinely trying to be with him, right?”

“I am with him,“ Jungkook said, a little hurt that Taehyung made it sound as if he was only fooling himself and Yoongi and he weren’t a couple. “I love him, and I’d give my life for him in a heartbeat. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for him and I know he feels the same.” His fingers were wrapped tightly around the hot chocolate that the waiter had brought but he didn’t mind the heat. “But I never wanted to snatch him away from anyone. It was Yoongi’s decision to move in with me and I couldn’t have been happier. I wish Jin could see that.”

“Big words for such a young person.” He sounded rather amused but there was also something in his face that said that he believed him. “Be careful, someone might ask you to act on them.” He nodded in thanks when the waitress placed down his coffee even though it was set down at the very end of the table and the waitress made sure to vanish as fast as she could. “Oh, he knows. Yoongi is awfully stubborn, he’d never do something he doesn’t really want to. The thing is normally we don’t date someone from outside. We’re not allowed to and we’re fine with it. No one ever challenged that rule - until you came. The thing is, Yoongi didn’t tell us a thing and then Jin found out and they fought, badly, and ... well, you know how that goes. Words are said, threats are made...We haven’t seen him since. I don’t think Jin thought that your relationship would last and he had hoped for Yoongi to come back to us on his own, that’s why he’s so pissed that not only are you still together but Yoongi actually brought you. It must have felt like a slap in Jin’s face. To be honest neither of us were very happy about it, because Yoongi didn’t just leave Jin when he went away, he left all of us. However, none of it is your fault so I’m trying to get to know you and find out who you are as a person.”

“Outside?” Jungkook shook his head in confusion, “What do you mean ‘from the outside’? Just because I’m living in the city. I’m sorry, but I really don’t get it…what’s so wrong about it?” He bit his lip. It hurt and at the same time, he felt proud to know that Yoongi had fought for them in the beginning. “You seem to have awfully lots of rules that I don’t get.” Jungkook only now understood why the villagers thought of them as crazy. “Please explain it to me. Why does Jin put up those rules and why…why do you all follow them? Why is everyone doing what he orders immediately?”

“We all went to Jin for a reason. You only chose a family if your old one doesn’t work, right? Most of us simply don’t have one any more or we suffered too much from their hands to ever go back. Jin is only trying to protect us, the p... the people he loves. We could just walk away if we wanted - but then we would be back to being alone and helpless and being hunt...” He broke off, biting his lip. He avoided Jungkook's gaze for a moment until he had managed to restore the smile on his face. “It might look extreme from your point of view, but I can promise you this is not a cult or something, it’s simply self-defense. You just have to let us be and we’ll do the same.”

“So, you mean, you want me to leave him?” Jungkook’s expression hardened. He knew Yoongi didn’t have an easy life, so he was happy for everything he told him and never tried to pressure him in any way. “Yoongi is not alone anymore.” His voice sounded small and Jungkook sipped from his chocolate, trying to calm his rapid beating heart. “Is that what you want? For me to go and let him live with you again?”

“No. Of course not.” Taehyung shook his head. “You’d break his heart if you left him and even though it would mean that Yoongi would come back to us because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go it wouldn’t necessarily make it better. If he’s happy now then I’m okay with that. I’m just... I’m trying to find out if... You’d marry him, would you? ‘In health and sickness, for better or worse’, doesn’t it go like that? What if you had to accept a great part of ‘sickness’ and ‘worse’ in your life? You said you’d die for him and I think you actually meant it so anything else that’s not ‘death’ is better, isn’t it? No matter how strange or uncomfortable it may seem at first.”

“In a heartbeat.“ Jungkook answered without hesitation, holding Taehyung’s gaze. “I’d follow him to the end of the world…and I’m not sure what you mean. Yoongi isn’t sick, right? He never really…he doesn’t even catch a cold.” He was confused and nervous and Taehyung’s even more confusing speech wasn’t helping.

“That’s all I needed to know. Don’t worry about the rest.” He reached out and placed his hand on top of Jungkook to squeeze it. “We’ll deal with the rogue wolf on our territory and then you and Yoongi can go back home. And who knows maybe you’ll start to like his strange little family, and Jin might warm up to you in return. It’s possible for things to change. All it needs is a tiny little nudge sometimes.”

Jungkook nodded, sipping on his hot chocolate in silence. Yoongi’s family was giving him a headache, so much was clear. Everything else was still a mystery to him. But he hoped what Taehyung had said was true, maybe they could change something and maybe Jin would see that he wasn’t trying to take Yoongi away from him.

There was a pull within him, something that made him yearn for his boyfriend’s closeness even more so, therefore he was glad when Taehyung suggested to walk home again.

When they arrived Yoongi was already at the door, phone in hand. He looked frantic and came over to meet them halfway. “Are you okay?” He gave Taehyung a look that said, ‘What did you do?’ as clearly as if he had spelled it out but Taehyung acted unfazed. “Don’t worry, we just went for a hot chocolate. I didn’t eat him.” His grin suggested that it was something he might have considered.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook wrapped his arm around Yoongi’s waist, giving him a quick kiss as they walked back inside. Yoongi was busy staring Taehyung down, when out of a sudden the sound of something crashing caught all of their attention. Jungkook was the first one to react, when he saw Namjoon’s half naked chest heaving heavily as he pushed against Hoseok hard who stumbled back from the open conservatory door. A vase was lying broken on the stone terrace. Without a second thought, Jungkook ran down the hallway and out in the garden, before either could throw a punch again.

“Stop!” He stretched out both arms, pushing himself in between the two men. “Whatever it is! It’s not worth it!”

Hoseok looked at him in complete shock - and then he burst into laughter. He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and it took Jungkook a while to hear what he was saying. “That kid... he thought we were fighting for real... and he thought it was a good idea... to walk right in the middle of it!” He snatched Jungkook away from where he was standing and ruffled his hair. “God, you are the cutest! How can someone be so righteous and naive and get himself in so much trouble? I kind of get what Yoongi see’s in you now, it must be good for the soul to come home after a full night out to all this innocence and honesty.”

Once more Jungkook was more than speechless from confusion. A full night out? He tried to fix his hair, while trying to get what Hoseok was saying. “What? But…what are you doing?” He looked at Namjoon, who was cracking his knuckles as if he was just waiting to go at it again.

“We’re wrestling. Play-fighting. Getting rid of too much restless energy. Training our reflexes. Whatever you want to call it. You could join us if you wanted. It might do you good.” Namjoon answered, a sparkle in his eyes. His half opened shirt showed off his muscles and Namjoon cocked his head when he caught Jungkook looking. “Do you enjoy the view? Don’t tell me Yoongi lost his form.”

Jungkook looked over his shoulder to his boyfriend, who had followed shortly after but turned back around when he deemed no danger for him or anyone else. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jungkook answered out of spite, feeling embarrassed that he couldn’t see whether they were play fighting or not. But seriously - who in the hell playfights?

Now that he was really looking at the others, standing a few feet away, he noticed how all of them were muscular. Even Jimin, who was smaller and had a thin waist, was muscled and strong, showing off his six pack easily as he was laying in the sun. Hoseok movements were fast and Namjoon easily kept up with him as they ran around the garden, catching each other and rolling on the grass as if they were predators and the other was his prey.

The words Taehyung had said replayed in his mind. We will deal with the rogue wolf on our territory. Jungkook shook his head. It was mad and yet, there was not one thing that made rational sense anymore. There was a throbbing headache forming in the back of his head and Jungkook turned around, walking back into the mansion. Not a family by blood. Jungkook rubbed the sides of his temples, trying to focus. Suddenly it seemed as if nothing made sense anymore from Yoongi’s sudden night’s out to all the things the others said. It was as if they knew. As if they knew more than they wanted to tell him. As if he couldn’t handle it. Jungkook tried to take a deep breath, but it shuddered him. What if you had to accept a great part of ‘sickness’ and ‘worse’ in your life? Taehyung’s words kept replaying in his mind. Jungkook came to a halt right in front of the hallway’s painting that was hanging at the back. He hadn’t looked at it thoroughly, yet because it showed Jin and he only thought of it as very egocentric. He was standing proudly, the forest in the back that Jungkook immediately recognized as the grounds and a dog right next to him. Furrowing his brows, Jungkook cocked his head aside. It was a rather large dog, Jungkook thought to himself, taking another step closer. It had brown fur with white spots all over and when he narrowed his eyes, Jungkook could see that it wasn’t a dog. It was too big to be one.

It was a wolf.

Jungkook’s eyes widened as he held his breath.

…

“I couldn’t believe it at first with how long you’ve been together, but he really has no clue,“ Taehyung sounded curious, Yoongi rather defeated. “At least I hope he doesn’t. I did everything I could to hide it but he‘s smart and picks up on things easily. So far he hasn‘t really confronted me...“

“And did you ever try to hint at something? Or test his opinion about the occult? Take him to a festival, or a witch or...“

Yoongi interrupted him. “No, never. Nothing like that. I didn‘t want to give him any ideas. Also, it wouldn't help me to find out how he would react because just because he likes crystals or might be intrigued by tarot cards it doesn‘t mean he wouldn‘t freak out about everything else.“

Jungkook had moved on instinct to where Yoongi’s voice came from, gulping hard against the lump in his throat as he tried to be as quiet as possible, coming to a halt in front of the kitchen door. What were they talking about? His eyes flickered over to the painting again and then back at Yoongi.

Taehyung sighed. “You‘re right. You‘d only know for sure if you told him. And then it‘s too late... You know some of us wondered if it wouldn‘t be better for him to find out here where we could do something about it. We could let him come to terms with it away from the city and if he can‘t handle the truth...“ He left the sentence open, but it was pretty clear that whatever would have been at the end of it, it wouldn‘t be pleasant for Jungkook. And yet he wasn‘t prepared for Taehyung‘s next words: “Not Jin, of course. He would rather snap Jungkook‘s neck then risk him finding out anything about us…“

A gasp fell from his lips and Jungkook pressed his hand on his mouth. There was panic rising in his chest, something clogging up his throat. Fear. Or maybe just his flight response.

Suddenly there was silence and the only thing Yoongi could hear was his own frantically beating heart. “Jungkook?“ Before he could run the door was pushed open and Yoongi stood in front of him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in the garden?”

Jungkook’s eyes searched Yoongi’s for a moment, but he couldn’t fathom it. He reeked for air painfully, before he started running.

He just ran as fast as he could.

Tears were blurring his view, but Jungkook didn’t care. He just needed air. Lots of it. He needed to think and to understand. Jungkook stumbled a little, but he didn’t stop as he ran into the forest, pushing branches out of his way. He needed to get away from all of this. From Jin. From their family. From their pack. Just so he could breathe again.

Yoongi felt hot and cold all over, his heart beating into overdrive. This was what he had been afraid of and now he would have to face the consequences. He felt sick to his stomach and yet he was determined to do whatever he had to if it meant keeping Jungkook safe. The thought of losing him in the process made his heart feel like it was ready to snap in half. Besides him Taehyung had tensed up, ready to go after Jungkook and hunt him down so Yoongi did the only thing he could to keep Taehyung from running after his boyfriend, throwing himself in Taehyung's way. Their bodies collided painfully but he held on, trying to keep Taehyung down.

"Wait! Please, wait, let me talk to him, I can fix this! This doesn't mean he knows! He might just be scared, don't hunt him! Please, Taehyung, I'm begging you, let me go after him first! I can talk him out of whatever he thinks he heard or saw!" He was desperate, so he was telling Taehyung whatever he needed to, knowing that if Jungkook knew he'd get him off the grounds instead of bringing him back, hoping that Jungkook could make it back to the city without him.

Taehyung growled low in his chest, his instincts kicking in to protect his pack no matter what. “You have five minutes, or I run after you. I might not be the only one who will notice…” Taehyung hissed through his teeth. The others were still outside and if they saw Jungkook running into the woods, Yoongi really should be the fastest one right now.

“Thank you!” He bolted out the door, right after Jungkook who brought quite the distance between them but Yoongi was fast and he had his wolf senses and he knew that he would always find Jungkook, even in a crowd of people. However, the younger made it easy for him as he had stopped only a few hundred meters in the forest. He was standing frozen at a steep hillside, staring down as if he was trying to find the answers down there. Yoongi stopped short, out of breath and scared out of his mind. The slope wasn’t steep enough to be deadly in case Jungkook fell but he could definitely injure himself and the way the younger stared down there made him shiver.

“Kook? Baby?” He carefully walked closer, holding his hands up to show that he was not a threat. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now but… it’s not as bad as it sounded, okay? Whatever you heard, don’t believe what Tae said, he exaggerates a lot and …Kook, are you listening to me?” There was absolutely no reaction coming from the younger, not even when Yoongi was close enough to reach out for him. “Jungkook?” He gently touched the other’s elbow to make him turn and look at him.

He was pale, all color gone from his face when he flinched hard at the sudden touch. “I...I…” He couldn’t utter a word and only his eyes flickered back to the slope, where there was a dead body lying on the forest grounds. Or well - what was left of it. Jungkook gulped against the lump in his throat, but it didn’t seem to help as he gasped for air. “What...what are you? Did...did you? Did...Jin?” Jungkook hadn’t seen the other after breakfast and suddenly all of the new thoughts were spiraling down on him. “What is going on?” His voice sounded sharp, when he stepped away from Yoongi but not because he was afraid, but simply because it was too much. He dry heaved, feeling drowsy as the smell of blood reached them.

“Please, get away from that...” He tried to pull Jungkook towards him but the other slipped easily out of his grip. Now that he was close the smell of blood washed over him, clogging his senses. It was already cold, the man down there long gone but still it was overwhelming. If he hadn’t been focused solely on Jungkook he would have noticed it way sooner. From behind them came an alarmed sound and Yoongi flinched. The pack members had caught on, someone must have seen them or tried to look for them and smelled the blood. Yoongi gripped Jungkook at his upper arms, keeping him still, forcing him to look at him. “Listen to me, I’m begging you to not ask questions or behave differently from before when the others arrive. I’ll explain everything to you later, just stay calm, tell them you wanted to see the woods and that you found …this by accident. Don’t tell them you’re scared, don’t say anything about...anything, please, Jungkook! You have to trust me now!”

How the hell was he supposed to stay calm, when there was a dead man lying right in front of him. His eyes were wide as he tried to follow what Yoongi was asking of him, but he nodded, reaching for his boyfriend to steady himself. He didn’t want to see the blood, nor smell it – so he buried his face in the crook of his neck. “I need to know, it’s driving me crazy, please.” Jungkook begged quietly, small whimpers leaving his lips, “I trust you, Yoongi. I always trust you.” He did. But he had to know the truth or else he couldn’t keep this going.

Yoongi opened his mouth, trying to reassure Jungkook that he would tell him everything and that it would be fine when the breath was knocked out of him. He fell to the floor while Namjoon ripped Jungkook away from him, his arm tightly against the younger’s throat. “That’s enough now. We’re taking no more risks, not with a rogue out there and another body. You should have sent him home when you still had the chance, Yoongi.”

The scream got stuck in his throat and Jungkook gasped for air, trying to push against Namjoon’s rough grip. “N-no, no, please.” The panic was written all over him and Jungkook’s fearful gaze searched for Yoongi’s. “I’m not a threat, I’m…” He coughed, “Please!”

Yoongi trembled all over as his worst fears were starting to take shape right in front of his eyes. “Namjoon.. Joonie, please! Let him go! You.. you know me I wouldn’t hurt the pack and Jungkook wouldn’t either, he’s just scared because he found the body, he knows nothing, he..”

“He thinks that it’s me.” Jin interrupted him, walking nonchalantly into the scene with the other right behind him. “Don’t insult me with lies, Yoongi, I heard him.” He stepped forward until he was right in front of Jungkook. “So, you think I’m a killer hm? What now? Will you run to the villagers and tell them I’m leading some killer cult where we have to run around naked at night and drop bodies on our grounds for fun? Is that what you think, hm?”

“No, that’s not…” The grip around his throat loosened just enough for him to talk, but Namjoon didn’t entirely let go. “I don’t think you’re a killer!” Jungkook screamed back at Seokjin, who seemed adamant on speaking over him, but he had enough. “I was confused, and I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand and it still doesn’t make much sense to me. But I trust Yoongi. You’re all capable of killing, but you’re just as afraid of it as everyone else.“ His chest was heaving heavily, trying to push against Namjoon to get him to back off. “You’re wolves, aren’t you? The sickness you were talking of…” He turned to Taehyung, “The rules, how they all follow your lead…you’re a pack, don’t you?” It sounded absolutely bat shit crazy and maybe he was going insane. But that was the only explanation he had. The full moon nights, when Yoongi left him every time, had always kept him wondering. It couldn’t just be that he was fascinated by the moon, he figured that out a long time.

Jin patted his cheek. “Smart boy!” He turned to look at each of his pack members, even Yoongi who was still on the ground too scared that Namjoon would hurt his boyfriend if he made any wrong move. “And that is exactly why we don’t let humans get too close. They might not get it at first but if we let them stick around for too long they will figure it out sooner or later. And then we have to kill them to keep our secret. No one wants that. And yet some of us thought they should still break the rules and risk all of our lives - including the humans.” He looked at Yoongi with a sad expression. “I warned you so many times. But I guess some people have to make their own mistakes. You’ll remember after you had to bury your loved one.”

Jungkook’s heart stopped when Jin talked about killing him so easily, as if he meant nothing, while he still had to process that he hadn’t deny any of his thoughts. They were a pack. And they were ready to kill him.

“No, no, you can’t…” There were tears in Jungkook’s eyes when he spoke, “I love Yoongi, I do. I always do. I would never hurt him or his family. I’ve loved him with all of his flaws before and I still do, please, Jin.” He didn’t wipe the tears away but let them flow as he begged. “What do you need me to do to prove it to you?”

“There’s nothing you can do now, sweetheart. Yoongi sealed your fate the moment he brought you here. We can’t trust humans; we’ve learned that the hard way. I won’t take any risks here.” With a sad smile Jin extended a claw. It wouldn’t take much to slit the boy’s throat, humans were so soft and fragile..

Yoongi made a choked off sound, like a wounded animal, getting up on his knees so that he could get closer while showing Jin his full surrender. He barely kept his voice stable as he begged for Jungkook‘s life. “Don‘t do this, Jin, I‘m begging you! I‘ll never break any rules again, I swear! I‘ll come back, I‘ll… I‘ll never see him again if that‘s what it takes...“ There were tears starting to roll down his face but Yoongi ignored him and kept going, scared that if he would stop talking for even one second Jin might just tell Namjoon to kill Jungkook right now in front of his eyes.”I‘ll come back here and be whatever you want me to, I‘ll be your pack enforcer, I‘ll do your dirty work, everything – anything – you want me to do but please, please don‘t hurt him! He‘s too scared to say anything anyways, he wouldn‘t… you wouldn‘t talk, right?“ Only now did he dare to look up at Jungkook at his boyfriend struggling in Namjoon‘s grip. He could see the younger‘s fear and his voice finally broke on a sob. “I‘m sorry, Jungkook, I‘m so sorry! Please Jin, don‘t kill him! I‘ll do anything, just don‘t kill him, please!“

Everything in him screamed to run, to get away, to save his own life but his heart yearned for Yoongi. “It’s...it’s okay, please…” Jungkook turned his head to look at Yoongi a little more. “I might not understand all of this, but I love you Yoongi. I will always love you and...and...it’s okay.” His voice sounded painfully choked, trying to push against the restraints against his throat that were still Namjoon’s hands. The tears came falling on their own, his heart aching hard as he tried to reassure Yoongi that it was okay, that he didn’t need to worry. Because it was the truth. He still was confused, didn’t quite get what Yoongi was or whoever his family were but he knew he loved him - more than his own life. “I don’t regret a single thing,” Jungkook whispered, sniffling quietly but he didn’t care that the others saw him like that. He only wanted Yoongi to see how much he loved him. “I would do it all over again for you. All of it. Please, don’t beat yourself up about it. Be safe and...I... I’ll wait for you, o-okay?” He tried a smile but failed miserably, but his eyes spoke the truth. He meant every single thing. Jungkook didn’t take his eyes away from his love, not even when he could hear Jin walking towards him, keeping his gaze solely focused on him. “I love you, always have, always will.” He mouthed the words more than he said them aloud, but his voice seemed to die out on him, and he wanted Yoongi to be the last thing he saw when took his last breath.

Yoongi knew his heart would shatter into a million pieces if he watched Jungkook die but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was forced to look at him, he had no choice in that matter because of his desperate need to see Jungkook alive for as long as he could, even if there were only seconds left. He whimpered, sounding barely human anymore but he didn’t care. He was the one who had gotten Jungkook into this, who had made sure that Jungkook would die on these grounds and Jungkook tried to soothe him even though he was shaking and scared. He was crying openly now but he kept still, knowing that if he tried to do anything they’d rip Jungkook's throat out before he could even reach him. Like this he hoped Jin would have mercy and make it quick and painless. Yoongi felt like he was suffocating but he forced himself to smile through the tears so that the last thing Jungkook would see was a smile. ‘I love you too’ He mouthed, voice long gone, shuddering because Jin was close now, so close, reaching out for Jungkook's throat and he couldn’t help it, he howled, yelling out his broken heart in wolf.

Jin hesitated, his claw only a hair's breadth away from Jungkook's throat. The younger was calm now, he didn’t fight, didn’t beg, didn’t yell at Yoongi. Instead, he kept his eyes on his loved one, trying to take the guilt away from him and Jin frowned. If Jungkook was willing to die like this for Yoongi then maybe his love was stronger than his fear. Maybe despite all better knowledge he should risk it, just this once to let Jungkook see. If he freaked out then he could still kill him but if he took his life now he would destroy Yoongi from the inside out and maybe take a life that he could have spared. Jin growled low in his throat before retrieving his claw. “Alright then. I’ll give you one last chance. You say you still don’t understand so I’ll let you see. If you can tell me afterwards in all honesty that you still love him and that you will keep our secret for as long as you live then I will let you stay. However, I will know when you lie, I can hear your heartbeat so if you can’t do what I asked then you don’t even have to try and lie to me. I’ll know and Yoongi will too.”

Jin gave Namjoon a sign to loosen his grip on Jungkook but stay close to catch him if he tried to run. Then he turned to Yoongi. “Change. Now. Let him see what you are.”

Jungkook couldn’t keep up on his feet, falling onto his knees from exhaustion, fear and the way his heart was aching - but he never took his eyes from Yoongi. His breath was shaky as he looked at his boyfriend, lips trembling but he didn’t shy away. He loved Yoongi and he trusted him with all of his heart, even if he might not understand everything right now, he knew these two things. Carefully, Jungkook inched a little closer to Yoongi, just until he was only an arm-length away from him.

There was a pleased smile on Jin’s face, as if it was a show he enjoyed watching and yet, his eyes turned into slits when Yoongi’s wolf was pushing out, ready to jump Jungkook any second if the younger showed any sign of fear.

Yoongi’s breath came in pants as he was fighting to talk to Jungkook while the transformation was starting. “You trust me, right? You know I’d never hurt you, no matter what form I’m in. You’ll... you’ll always be safe... with me...” He groaned in pain when his bones started to crack, shifting, and growing under his skin. He always felt it first at his spine, right in between his shoulder blades. Now he was so used to the shifting and the pain that he could lean into it but during his first changes he had been scared that his spine would be injured, and he’d end up paralyzed. However, the wolf knew what it was doing to his body and even though it was still painful he could manage to keep it down except from a few grunts and groans that escaped him during the change. His skin rippled like there was water underneath before the fur started to push through, covering him from back to front. His clothes ripped when his form changed, standing no chance against his suddenly bigger frame that was being forced inside small human clothes. He tried to keep his eyes open, to make Jungkook see that it was still him but when his skull elongated, fangs breaking through he had to shut them from the searing pain. When he opened them again his eyes were no longer chocolate brown but lighter and deeper, like smoky topaz. Yoongi shook his fur, stretching his paws until he was standing fully transformed as a wolf in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook had held his breath entirely. He didn’t dare to take in air, too scared he would do the wrong thing. Every crack, every painful groan from Yoongi hurt him too and yet, he watched with awe, how the man he loved turned into a wolf right in front of him. It took a moment to grasp it, to understand that it was true. That he wasn’t going crazy and imagining all of these things. Yoongi was a wolf.

A beautiful one.

His lips curled into a smile, tears flowing down his cheek, when Jungkook reached out for Yoongi. He didn’t hesitate, burying his fingers deep into the fur as he leaned his head against the wolf’s face, not even flinching at the size of his fangs. The sobs shook him, as he held himself close to the wolf. “You’re b-beautiful…” He nuzzled his face closer, feeling the rapid heartbeat of Yoongi’s heart underneath the wolf, the warmth that he was so used to and always thought of as inhumanly. He was his wolf. “Of course, I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you, I always did.”

The weight fell off his chest when Jungkook didn’t scream or ran from him or crouched in shock. He barely gave his mind time to register what had happened before he buried his face in Yoongi’s fur and the wolf was beside himself with joy. He yipped and whined, unable to keep his happy sounds in before he started to lick Jungkook face all over.

The younger giggled and right now in this moment nothing else mattered but Yoongi. “Why didn’t you tell me…” He sniffled quietly, soothing over Yoongi’s fur as he tried to take in the beauty of the white, grey wolf that stood tall in front of him. “We could have run together in the forest...you always told me that you didn’t like jogging...and now...we could have run!” Jungkook whined teasingly, as if Yoongi took an important part of his life when he refused to work out with him on Sunday mornings.

Jimin cooed softly, pulling Namjoon a little away from Jungkook as he wrapped his arms around his partners waist. He didn’t need to hold the young human back anymore. Jin had no reason to kill - not tonight. The soft sound had Jungkook turning his head, looking up at the leader of the pack with bloodshot-teary eyes.

Jin nodded at him. “I think we can skip the questions.” He had listened to Jungkook's heart and even though it was beating faster there was no fear in him, no hate, no disgust. He had accepted Yoongi right away as if being a mythical, potentially deadly creature was no big deal. Apparently Yoongi had been right when he had told him that Jungkook was special and that they could trust him. Without an apology or another comment he turned towards the rest of his pack. “Okay, now that this has been taken care of we’ll go hunt for that rogue! Jimin, Hoseok and Tae you try to follow the scent and give us a sign if you find anything. Namjoon and I will look at the body to try and find out if it tells us anything about the killer. Then we’ll get the body off our property and to somewhere where people can find it without asking questions.” Tae and Jimin nodded, running off to where they could change without curious eyes.

“Yoongi, you will bring Jungkook back to the mansion and show him one of the hiding spots, just to be sure, then you will come back and join us.”

Once more he held his breath, carefully getting up on his feet. His knees were still wobbly, the fear that his life would have been taken by a wolf just like the human that lied beneath them, making him shaky. He steadied himself against Yoongi easily, trusting him to take him home.

Yoongi waited until Jin and Namjoon had gone down the little hill before he changed back. It would take a toll on his body to change into wolf form twice in such a short time, but he wanted to be able to talk to Jungkook, he couldn’t just get him back and then leave without saying a single word. Another downside was because he hadn’t gotten out of his clothes before changing because he hadn’t dared to waste a minute with Jungkook in danger he had only ripped stuff. Changing back to human form was actually a little quicker than the other way round, maybe because shrinking was easier on bones and tissue than expanding. Nonetheless he was panting when he finished, kneeling on the ground completely naked.

Jungkook immediately reached down for Yoongi, soothing over his back and holding him tight against him. He was more than happy that he hadn’t lost his boyfriend, nor his life. They would go through his, he knew they would make it somehow. “I got you,” Jungkook whispered, wrapping his arm around Yoongi’s waist to pull him up easily until the other caught his breath and was steady again. “Guess I know why you loved being nude so much now.” Jungkook giggled, placing a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek. And he knew why he found Namjoon and Jimin walking around naked in the mansion all the time.

Yoongi hugged Jungkook back tightly before taking his boyfriends face in his hands and kissing him gently. “Thank you.. thank you so much!” He whispered because Jin and Namjoon were still close enough to listen in if they wanted to. “Please forgive me for getting you almost... almost killed! I’ll never lie to you again, I promise, there’ll be no more secrets between us, you deserve nothing but the truth. I’ll have to help Jin find the rogue wolf before the traces get cold but after, tonight or tomorrow morning depending on how long it takes you can ask me anything and I’ll answer honestly.” Yoongi started to move when the pain in his muscles had simmered down to a dull ache, reaching out his hand for Jungkook to take because he needed him close. There was no use in trying to get back into the pieces of cloth that had been his clothes, so he just picked them up to discard them at the house.

The younger held him tight, too scared he might lose him again. They were walking fast and Yoongi still felt stiff and tensed up next to him. “It’s okay. I…I’ll wait, I understand now.” Jungkook answered honestly. “Where will you bring me though? You won’t lock me in, right?”

“No, I’d never do that!” Yoongi looked at him with wide eyes before the insecurity crept back in “You won’t run...right? I know you love me but with Jin and what he did… he won’t harm you now, I.. I’ll make sure you’re safe, okay? Please don’t go out into the woods alone again until we caught the rogue. It’s a werewolf and as you’ve seen he doesn’t care about human lives.”

“I won’t leave you, Yoongi.” When they were inside again, Jungkook turned around, taking both of his hands in his own and looked at him. “There’s a lot of questions you need to answer me, but so many doubts I had are gone. The many times I thought you were with someone else maybe, ‘cause you were gone the night. The marks the…I wished I would have known but…I understand, I do…I really do.” Jungkook pulled his boyfriend in, not caring whether he was naked or not. “I just don’t like to be locked in, that’s all. I’ll wait wherever you want me to until you get me.”

“Oh!” Yoongi blinked. He had never thought Jungkook could interpret his behaviour as him seeing someone behind Jungkook back but now that the other had mentioned it would seem surprisingly fitting. “And you never asked me about it? Because.. you were afraid that it was true? That I’d tell you I had someone else? But.. you knew I loved you, didn’t you?”

“I knew, I always did. You showed me every day.” Jungkook took in a shuddering breath, feeling too emotional from the tumult of the day. “It never made any sense to me, but it does now.” He kissed Yoongi softly, cupping the other’s cheeks. “And you know I love you, too, right?”

Yoongi chuckled, the tension finally losing his body, “Yeah, I think you being literally ready to die for my decisions proved that once and for all,” He commented with a lopsided smile. As Jin had allowed it he led Jungkook up the stairs to show him one of the many hidden spots behind the paneling. He was glad that Jungkook would know where to hide if something happened because even though he was pretty sure the rogue wouldn’t dare to come up to their house he was better safe than sorry. “You can hide here in case something happens or if we won’t come back tonight and you feel safer to sleep in here.”

Jungkook looked around the small room, which was big enough to fit a bed and a few shelves, filled with all kinds of books and artifacts. He nodded, pulling Yoongi in for a last kiss before the wolf closed the door again, making sure the human was safely hidden.

…

In the forest Namjoon and Jin were already preparing a bag, collecting what was left of the human to get it somewhere else. Their body language was tense and none of the wolves dared to speak as they worked meticulously.

Yoongi had thrown on a random shirt and pants, not really caring as he was pretty sure would get out of them soon anyways. However, he was staying human until Jin would tell him what he wanted him to do. Yoongi was ready to do whatever he was told, showing Jin his gratefulness through obedience and submission until he would find another time and place for him to put it in words as well.

It was way past midnight when their tired limbs carried them home.

Jimin was carried in Namjoon’s hold, the younger wolf had run until the exhaustion made him slow down and he couldn’t even walk anymore. Taehyung on the other side was dirty, leaning onto Hoseok tiredly, who was helping the younger in and towards the bathroom making sure he would feel taken care of and be clean. Jin had his arms crossed in front of his chest, brows furrowed deeply as he was still in thought.

They had been running all night and hiding the body somewhere closer to the humans, making sure there was no trace left and although he made sure of every detail, he knew the police would come and ask questions again. He let out a grunt, when Namjoon asked him if he needed anything else, leaving the two (or three if one counted the sleeping Jimin in his arms) alone in the hallway. It was evident that Jin was on edge, more than before. He wanted nothing but to protect them and right now it seemed as if someone was after them, wanting to ruin everything he had worked for.

Yoongi waited at the side and when Jin didn’t address any of them and went into the kitchen he took it as a sign they could all go to bed now. Or in his case have a conversation about being a werewolf with his boyfriend. He hurried in the bathroom and grabbed a dressing gown as he couldn’t be bothered with clothes after this hunt.

Carefully he knocked onto the door of the hiding space before he opened it. A tiny part of him hoped that Jungkook was asleep and they could postpone the talk and just cuddle sleepily like they’d done so often before. He really needed that right now.

…

Jungkook had tried to wait for him, roaming around the windowless room, getting lost in his thoughts and the many questions he had but in the end he lost the fight to his tiredness. He was exhausted, mind and heart alike from the turmoil, the fear, and the chaos.

The young human was lying on the couch, halfway over the armrest with his legs pulled in. He had refused to go to the bed at the other side of the room but wanted to wait for as long as he could.

Yoongi quietly got closer until he reached the curled up figure on the couch. From this distance he knew that Jungkook was asleep from how deep his breaths were and his slowed heartbeat. He looked so delicate like this, soft and innocent and Yoongi ached with the thought of what he had brought Jungkook into. He had been so selfish, but he just couldn’t let go of Jungkook or his feelings towards him. He hoped that Jungkook would forgive him, that he wouldn’t change his mind or feel different about him now. Even though the younger had told him everything was fine he just couldn’t believe that this new discovery hadn’t shaken Jungkook.

It was as if his heart reacted first, beating a little faster when his body followed the moment as Yoongi came closer. His name was a mumbled whisper when Jungkook blinked his eyes open tiredly, reaching out to where Yoongi stood in front of him until he could get a hold of him and pull him closer.

“Did you sleep well?” He interlaced their fingers, looking fondly down and his boyfriends face. Jungkook tugged at his arm as an answer and Yoongi chuckled, all the worries of the unsuccessful hunt falling off of him. Jungkook centered him and he loved him for it. He had to shuffle around a bit before he could sit down onto the small couch with Jungkook taking up half of it but when the younger stretched out a little he managed to lay down next to him. Their faces were so close to each other that he could easily bury his nose into Jungkook's neck.

Jungkook easily molded himself against Yoongi’s body until they were intertwined from head to toe, dwelling in his warmth. “Now I know,” Jungkook whispered, placing a kiss on Yoongi’s neck, “Why you’re never cold. Why you’re so strong although you refuse to go to the gym with me. The nights you were gone…” He held Yoongi a little tighter. “Never lie to me again, please.”

Yoongi breathed Jungkook in, each inhale flooding him with relief because there was no sourness in Jungkook smell, no fear. He trusted him still, despite everything. “I won’t”, he whispered, trying to convey that he really meant it, that he was thankful for Jungkook trust and that he would never abuse it again. “I love you. I say it a lot but... I really mean it. I always meant it and now I love you even more for still...being in love with me despite what I am.”

“You’re stuck with me; didn’t I tell you that enough?” Jungkook giggled softly, letting his hands rake through Yoongi’s hair. “You’re my wolf.” He still didn’t understand a lot of things; not why Jin hated him, ready to kill him without a second thought, but then he trusted Yoongi fully. “I still have a lot of questions though, but you can answer them tomorrow.” Jungkook yawned tiredly, nuzzling his face into his neck when he began to mumble a few questions that kept burning on his tongue, “Are there other creatures, too? Mermaids? Is your jealousy also rooted in your wolf nature? Is this why you love being nude? Your sex drive…is it…a wolf thing, too?”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” He stole a kiss from Jungkook lips in between questions. “I’ve never seen a mermaid but who knows, I bet some people swear that werewolves don’t exist so who am I to say that there are no mermaids just because I’ve seen none.” He chuckled, “Yeah, a lot of things are from the wolf but the wolf is also I so it’s difficult to differentiate between ‘him’ and me - although there are a few things that are pretty obvious.”

Jungkook hummed, a smile on his lips as he closed his eyes. “You didn’t find him, right? What will happen next?” He almost didn’t dare to ask, too scared that their small visit would end up in a lot more pain than they had anticipated. “Why would someone kill those people on your grounds?” He looked up at his boyfriend, worry written all over his expression.

“I... I don’t know, Kook. We lost his trail somewhere a few miles from here when he crossed a river. Neither of us has any idea why someone would kill people and drop them here. Normally we werewolves hold together and even if there are differences between the few packs we’d never get the other one in trouble with the humans. That’s… too dangerous. If people find out we exist there would be a hunt for all of us! So, the only thing that would make sense is that this werewolf is new or stupid or has lost his mind. And yet he can play hide and seek with us.” Yoongi sighed deeply. “I really hope this will be over soon!”

Jungkook furrowed his brows in thought, cuddling a little closer again. There were still too many questions on his mind, but he couldn’t even collect them right now, so he just let it be, taking a deep breath. “Can we go back into our room? I’m scared we’ll end up on the floor tonight.”

“Yeah, that’ll be better. For the floor and our backs.” He got up and before Jungkook could try and follow him he swiftly picked him up to carry him in his arms. There was no need to hold back now, he could use his strength openly without raising questions.

Jungkook bit his lip in excitement and hid his face in Yoongi’s neck in embarrassment when he carried him so easily over the hallway. He placed a few kisses right there on the soft skin, wrapping his arm tightly around Yoongi so he couldn’t let go of him even when he dropped him on the mattress.

Jungkook clingy koala-hold almost had him toppling over and onto Jungkook himself. “Hey, what are you doing? I thought you wanted to sleep?” He teased him amused “You want to sleep with me on top of you? Are you sure you’ll be able to breathe like that?”

“Yes, I’m very sure of it,” He answered but let Yoongi slide off him just enough to lay his head on his chest. Jungkook was more than happy. It felt as if nothing had changed between them, although everything had, and he felt the love and their connection even stronger than before.

A/N: Jungkook figured it out, yay! But also...another man dead................what happens next?

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agustdef · 4 years ago

Text

Bubble

Pairing: Jin x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: None.

Rating: PG

The moment light entered the room YN let out a groan of annoyance. Her eyes were closed, but it managed to pierce the protection of her eyelids with its bright rays. It was so bright that she felt like her eyes were open and she’d stared into the sun for seconds longer than she needed to, but no that wasn’t the case at all.

When YN finally opened her eyes, she was met with the curtains that should have protected her from the sun being held open by Jin. For a moment she thought it was him doing it maliciously, but once her eyes adjusted she realized that he was facing towards the window and he couldn’t possibly have seen how it affected her.

Didn’t mean that it was okay though.

“If you do not close those curtains I will roll out of this bed and stick my foot up your behind,” she muttered, all while using the blanket to shield her eyes some.

That startled Jin who turned to look at her with wide eyes for several seconds before pulling it together and closing the curtains. Once he’d done that her eyes finally felt like they could relax, though it didn’t stop the glare she fixed him with. Not even the sheepish smile and him coming over to kiss her good morning could stop that.

“I’m sorry. You were facing the other way when I walked over and with it being so early I thought you’d be in a deeper sleep,” he said as he sat beside her on the bed.

At the mention of time YN reached over and tapped the screen of her phone to see that it was around seven in the morning. It caused a groan to tear from her lips and then whines about how she didn’t need to be up for another half an hour followed.

“You don’t even need to be up until nine, why are you awake so early?” she asked.

Jin shrugged, his eyes focused on playing with his fingers.

“We both passed out the moment we got in, which was at eight, so I was bound to wake up earlier. I tried to sleep again, but then Jungkook called about something and we talked for a bit. Now I’m just awake.”

That made YN sigh as she carefully moved to a sitting position. He wasn’t wrong by any means. They’d gotten food on the way from the airport to the hotel, which was demolished before the vans even stopped. Then they’d barely changed and prepped for bed before they’d passed out for the night. And even as she longed to go back to sleep she had to admit that she was the most refreshed she’d been in months, so she couldn’t imagine how Jin felt.

“I guess we could at least have breakfast in bed for once. We haven’t done that at all in the last few weeks of hotel hopping,” she offered.

For a moment Jin pursed his lips, but then a smile stretched onto them and he turned to place several kisses to YN's face despite her attempts at pushing him away.

“Room service!” he shouted as he moved to a desk in the room where the hotel phone sat.

There was zero need for him to ask her what she wanted because it was almost always the same and since the boys were on a tour stop in the US there was no need to make changes.

“Hi. I’d like to order room service.” There was a brief pause to listen before he continued. “Two seasonal fresh fruits, bacon, pancakes, and scrambled eggs, french toast, bacon and a poached egg, and extra bacon. Oh, also two orange juice, two waters, and a cup of green tea sugar on the side.”

Again, there was silence and then Jin was saying thank you and hanging up the phone. When he returned to the bed he had a wide smile on his face, one that told her that he was up to no good, but she wasn’t quick enough to do anything to stop him or avoid what was to come. Jin jumped onto the bed and then pulled her into a tight hold, he even threw his leg over to keep her in place.

YN squirmed but let him keep her in his death grip for the most part. She was fine with being held by him, it made her unbelievably happy to be able to wake up with him since she’d spent months not doing it. It was definitely what made the first three weeks she’d been on tour with them worth it. That and getting to do more action shots and have more freedom with her photography.

They stayed like that for a while, just cuddled up together until Jin finally tilted her head so that he was looking at her. The smile on his lips was gone, but it was still very clear in his eyes.

“Good morning, baby,” he said before leaning down to kiss her.

She returned the kiss and then the greeting. “Good morning, love.”

After that they stared at each other like weirdos, which was accurate because they both knew how much their overflowing love for each other made them a little dorky.

But then the sound of YN’s stomach rumbling broke the silence. They both laughed and pulled apart some, though they didn’t stop touching each other.

Jin’s hand moved down to her protruded stomach and gently rubbed it. The bump had grown very little in the time that Jin had been home during the break of tour, but the moment they got back out there it seemed to make up for all the time. She was becoming more self-conscious about it because some of her clothes became useless faster than she’d thought they would, but she rolled with the punches. Pregnancy wasn’t something that had a consistent way of happening.

“Ah, my bad. Good morning to you too, little one. I promise your mama will feed you real soon. She’s even going to give you extra bacon,” Jin said to her stomach.

Bacon, something YN loved, had become a craving of their unborn child over the latter months of her pregnancy. While she could devour a lot, the kid increased that craving and she needed so much to be sated. However, since it wasn’t good for either of them and could give her heartburn from hell they scaled it back as much as possible. Giving her other things she enjoyed to fight off the craving.

“Yup. And daddy is going to give me his bacon too,” YN added on.

There was intense head shaking and Jin pouting at that, but they knew that it was true. Or mostly true, because hopefully the fruit would be enough to have her complacent with her regular serving and the extra he’d gotten for her.

“Why do you always have to try to eat mine? I don’t get bacon that often and you’re stealing what little I do have? What kind of shake down is this?” Jin asked, theatrics very much in play.

He would have kept going if a knock on their door hadn’t interrupted him. He went to answer it, but fake glared at her as he did.

Upon his reentry into the hotel room with a cart of food the displeasure was gone though and he had a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth. YN sat up and was going to go the fake offended and eating without her route, but then the smell hit her and all she could do was grabby hands.

Of course, Jin denied her though, his head inclining which indicated he wanted her out of the bedroom and into the small living room that they had. She groaned and made a fuss but got out of bed nonetheless.

“I thought we were doing this in bed,” she whined.

Jin rolled his eyes. “We both know how you feel about eating in bed. And this definitely doesn’t fit in the things you deem an exception.”

He wasn’t wrong, but she refused to say that and just pouted as he ushered her to a seat on the couch that had the coffee table in front of it. He placed all the food down on it, putting his stuff in front of where he’d sit next to her. And though YN took that as a queue to dive in her hand was smacked immediately and then Jin disappeared back into their room.

She could have gone for it again when he was out of sight, but her hunger waned for a moment for her to realize why he’d stopped her.

“I could have just taken them after you know,” she called out.

“And risk throwing up your breakfast because of them? No,” he shouted back.

Again, he was right. Though she’s cycled through many prenatal vitamins all of them had something that didn’t work with her stomach. She’d had to try taking them various ways to not throw up or feel like trash after. And it turned out taking her current one before eating was the perfect set up. It didn’t matter how much time before, it just had to be before. They still agreed waiting five minutes was best though.

So, when Jin returned she already had her glass of water in hand when he gave up the pills. She downed them and drank the full glass, even opening her mouth to show him that they were gone because she felt away about having to wait to eat when it all smelled so good.

There was an attempt to make up for it by Jin waiting to eat with her and simply fiddling with the TV to get something on for them to watch. He turned to Hulu when regular stations failed them and before YN could even say anything Bob’s Burgers and English subtitles were engaged. Though his English had gotten exceptionally good it was often easier for him to follow and the same was for YN. She was deemed fluent in Korean, but sometimes things didn’t process.

The choice of one her favorite shows earned him a kiss to the cheek and less pouting. Though the true highlight of it all was watching the way his cheeks burned from the random affection. YN couldn’t help cooing about how cute he was, which was met with a stuttered response of five minutes passing. And though making him blush some more was tempting food took precedence.

They ate in silence for the most part with squabbles over food theft and laughter over something happening on screen occurring every so often. It was a nice continuation of their morning, but once all the food was finished they knew that it was time they got their lives together.

“Can I just stay in bed all day? Is that an option?” Jin asked as he rubbed his own stomach, complaints of being too full had come minutes before.

“You have a concert tonight, love.”

That both perked him up and made him groan in disapproval. Of course, he wanted to go out and perform for his fans, but clearly the idea of moving wasn’t high on his list.

But they couldn’t waste any more time if they didn’t want to feel rushed.

YN carefully stood from the couch, her hand rubbing along her own full feeling stomach.

“Well, I need to shower because you decided we needed to be close all night and I smell not great. And since I know you’re going to make sure I don’t slip you have to get up,” she said.

There was more groaning and some flailing limbs as he threw a small tantrum before he was up and following her to the bathroom. Once there he didn’t just watch her from outside the shower like a stalker, as he sometimes did, but joined her and held her steady when she wobbled.

And since shower sex was no longer something they did because there was fear on both sides of something going wrong they got clean rather quickly. After that they moved to get dressed and even that took on a fast pace seeing as neither of them needed to particularly dress up. Jin would be doing prep for the concert and resting until then so he tossed on sweatpants and a slightly oversized shirt. YN went a similar route, tossing on some joggers that almost looked like normal pants and a large shirt that she had. She also made sure to snatch one of Jin’s hoodies to bring with her when the temperature dropped.

Both of them ended up next to each other in the bathroom going through skin care and brushing their teeth. But since her skin dryness hadn’t stopped, just started terrorizing solely her face, YN spent longer layering products for moisture.

As she did each one she reminded herself that at least the weird light patches hadn’t started there, though they still plagued the rest of her skin, particularly her stomach. She couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of stomach being one base shade of brown, with dark and light stretch marks and freckle like light patches everywhere. It was as annoying as when summer came and she was forced to deal with being three different shades of brown on her arms alone.

With everything done they both ended up in the living room ensuring they had everything they needed. YN triple checked her camera bag and then did the same with the things that held her essentials. There were chargers, two fully charged power banks, some snacks, two water bottles, and some medicine just in case she or anyone else felt ill for whatever reason. There were also some compression socks in there just in case her feet started to swell, something that was both an occupational hazard and a pregnancy side effect.

By the time she finished there were knocks at the door from Yoongi and one of her fellow photographers. She slid on her bags and went to the door and slipped her shoes on. Once standing Jin was there with her frowning. It tugged at her heart, but she knew that they couldn’t stay there.

Reaching out she grasped his hands. “I don’t want to leave our bubble either, but we have to. Just remember you have a great show to put on and I’ll be there to capture all of your handsomeness.”

She knew that compliments didn’t really work on him despite his worldwide handsome talk all the time, but she thought it would be comforting. When it didn’t garner much of a reaction she sighed but maintained a soft smile.

“Tomorrow you get a break and the only work I’ll be doing is editing photos. We can stay in all day or go out to do something. But we’ll get to be back in our bubble for a little while, I promise,” she said.

Again, she didn’t get much of a change from him, but a few seconds ticked by and a smile formed. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips and then kneeled to press one to her stomach.

“Be good for mama while she’s working or you’re grounded,” he said to her stomach.

That caused a cackle like laugh to rip from her lips and she barely collected herself before he got up and opened the door.

After an elevator ride to the lobby, they said their byes one more time and then went where they were needed. When they saw each other again it was while YN pointed a camera his way mid body roll.

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