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duskandstarlight · 3 years

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Embers & Light: Chapter 43.5

Notes: So when I posted last week I realised a few hours later that I hadn’t posted the whole chapter! So, here you go. An early, albeit short, update. Thanks as usual to my beta @noirshadow, who is incredibly patient with all my E&L ramblings and makes sure my writing actually makes sense!

Chapter 43.5

Nesta

Cold air snapped at Nesta’s body as Sala flew her to Lorrian and Frawley’s. Cassian travelled behind her, trailing her path, the beat of his wings grating on her until she wanted to scream.

Of course, he hadn’t let her fly alone. He’d had to make sure that she was safe. That bond again, dictating his desires. Nesta didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that.

By the time she landed, Nesta had whipped herself into a fury that was frantic in its making—quivering with an energy that made her want to roar and sob until she was consumed with it.

“You’ve done your job,” she spat at Cassian, as he landed softly on his feet beside her with a neat retraction of his wings. “Now leave me alone.

They had landed just before the pine trees of the Eastern Steppes, where the forest decided to part for its witch and her home. The pine needles blocked out the sparkling stars above, casting the forest into smudgy shadows that made it near impossible for Nesta to pick her way across the ground, despite her fae eyesight.

When she stumbled, Cassian flared his magic to light the way but, thankfully, he did not dare reach for her. Loose roots and fallen branches created obstacles underfoot, but Nesta let her body tackle them blindly until she cleared the tree line and suddenly she could see again.

Nesta picked up her pace, storming along the paddock fence as the cottage came into view. The building’s shape was blanketed by a coal-night hue, save for the buttery light that fogged around Lorrian and Frawley’s bedroom window. Besides the smoke puffing from the chimney, the night was alarmingly still, as if had taken in a gasping breath in anticipation of what was to unfold beneath it.

The absence of Illyria’s fierce wind in Nesta’s anger felt foreign and infuriating, so Nesta walked faster, creating her own breeze. But the soft caress against her cheeks rather than the hurricane she longed for only served to sharpen the blade of her anger until it was lethal.

“Running away again,” Cassian growled from close behind her, his resolve to stay silent clearly breaking as Nesta stormed past the paddock entrance. He caught her wrist with a leather-clad hand and Nesta’s body jerked backwards as she was pulled towards him.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked as she snarled at him with such savagery it sounded like a wild animal. His voice cracked like ice over a river. “Why are you fighting something that I know makes you happy. I can make you happy, Nesta.”

“Stop it,” Nesta cut back, the slash in her voice a warning just as much as her words. Because Cassian sounded so agonisingly sad it bruised her lungs, every breath coiled with pain.

“I’m not letting go,” Cassian told her, and they both knew the meaning was figurative as well as literal as he searched her face for something that would tell him to stay. “You can shout and scream and bite all you want, but you are not running away from me again. Not this time.”

Go home, Cassian.

“I don’t need someone to make me happy,” Nesta spat. “I can be happy independently of you.”

“You can have both.”

A cold, cruel laugh bubbled out of her. “Is that what you tell yourself every day when you pretend you can wear me down? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That you’re hoping I’ll give in and accept a bond I have explicitly told you I do not want?”

Cassian didn’t let go of her. Instead, he pushed her hand back to her as if it disgusted him to hold onto her. Nesta caught how his black hair sifted, the strands shining in the starlight, just before she turned her back to him.

It wasn’t too late to catch the curl of his lip and the way hurt seized the green and brown of his eyes. “You think I lie to myself? Nesta, you pull the wool over your eyes every damn day!” The last three words were staccato, thudding after her as she all but spirited away from him on a storm wind. “You have wanted me since you met me. Admit it. You want me and I want you. It’s simple. It’s all simple if you’d just stop fighting—”

The audacity to insinuate that Nesta’s feelings were inconsequential was too much. It hurt more than anything else Cassian had ever said, the rest of his barbs merely needles to this blade. Because none of what was between them was simple. It was a tangled web of terror and confusion and a desperate need Nesta did not understand.

The ignorance—the implied slight at her intelligence—had Nesta whirling, cutting Cassian off mid-sentence. Magic thundered through her veins, her power barrelling to her palms. She had to expel it—had to let it out like a curdling scream. Without thinking, she flung out her hands.

Nesta’s magic flew, roaring silver flames closing the distance between them. All she cared about was making Cassian recoil when her fire sizzled into nothing millimetres from his face. All she needed to see was the froth of his anger as it finally boiled over and met hers.

But Cassian moved quicker than Nesta had ever seen him. Red light shot from his siphons but this time there was no shield like there had been all of those months ago. Magic barrelled from his chest, his shoulders, his knees, the backs of his hands to meet hers—all of that magnificent power channelled towards her.

Scarlet and silver lit up the clearing, bathing their surroundings like glistening blood. Nesta braced herself for the slamming impact, expected for them to both be thrown backwards, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her body was seized with a sudden vigour—like a wonderful, gasping breath. And their magic… it didn’t clash. No, their jets of power melded together, silver meeting red until it formed a smooth running stream. It glimmered, quiet and calm in contrast, like the calm and tranquil night sky.

It felt right and wonderful and infuriating. Even Nesta’s magic was betraying her. Even her power couldn’t help but want him, even when she was incandescent with rage for the warrior before her.

Unleashing a growl of anger, Nesta dropped her hands in defeat. They hung at her sides, a useless deadweight. She was panting hard, even though what she’d just done hadn’t exerted her—it had been easy and right and thrilling, as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep.

For a moment, there was only silence. Cassian’s chest was heaving, his hair as wild as hers. His hands were still outstretched towards her, each and every one of his siphons activated and glowing. Like her, he was staring wide-eyed at the magic that hung overhead like a mist, their very own canvas of stars.

When his eyes flicked to hers, the shock in them was still stark. In fact, Nesta could have sworn she spied terror in them. He stepped forward—her Cassian—but Nesta stepped back. A disgruntled growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and then he was striding towards her before she could even think about moving away from him. Stopped when he was a breath away from her.

Pine and musk wound around her body in an invisible embrace and Nesta’s face crumpled at the familiarity of it. She wished she was curled up beside Cassian in bed, her limbs tangled in his, her nose buried in his neck. She wished she’d never challenged him for answers in the bedroom earlier. Wished she was still living in blissful ignorance.

Two calloused hands came to frame her face and Nesta couldn’t find the will to shake them off. Couldn’t.

“Nesta,” Cassian rasped.

Nesta managed to shake her head. Go away. Please.

Cassian’s expression broke even as it remained still. Nesta didn’t understand how, but it did. It was something behind his eyes—the faint flicker of his eyebrows as they dipped in and out of a frown.

But Cassian didn’t drop his hands from her cheeks, as if he knew she didn’t really want him to leave her. Brushed his thumbs over her cheeks—wiping away the tracks of fury that had fallen from the corners of her eyes.

“Do you want me or not?” Cassian asked quietly, after a long while. His eyes searched into her silver eyes—pierced her soul. Flames danced in the reflection of his irises. And Nesta knew that this was taking everything for him to ask it out loud. “Do you want me, Nesta?”

Run, run, run, the Cauldron mused in Nesta’s head, as it cast that sleepy eye on her.

Nesta shrugged out of Cassian’s embrace. Her movements were syrupy, as if the air around her had thickened, but still she managed to turn. Her entire body was shaking—whether it was from that leftover rage, or because her heart was breaking, Nesta wasn’t sure.

A sob heaved through her body but Nesta caught it before she made a sound. She couldn’t let Cassian see it. Couldn’t let him know how much she was affected by him.

Slowly, Nesta walked to the cottage. She was still coated in Cassian’s magic, his scent on her tongue both divine and hellish. And that alone made her want to cry even more. It served as a reminder that she was constantly at war with herself. This battle that had been thrust upon her, chaining her free will and making her question everything.

“Leave me alone,” Nesta ordered flatly, without looking behind her.

Nesta didn’t know why she expected Cassian to stay. To fight. But the sound of beating wings filled Nesta’s ears just as she reached the backdoor. It felt as if someone had closed a fist around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until the blood ran dry and veins popped under the pressure.

Frawley was waiting at the threshold, her expression grim. The witch held the door open in invitation.

But Nesta paused. Turned back to the paddock.

Cassian was gone.

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#acosf #acotar #nessian #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #embersandlightfic #nessianfic #acomaf #acowar #duskandstarlightwrites #nessian fic #nessian angst

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muertawrites · 4 years

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The Dark of the Moon (Zuko x Reader)

Summary: Late night insomnia turns into a conversation about love, and Zuko makes an interesting discovery about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2,100

Author’s Note: You can thank Avatar being on Netflix and rekindling my childhood obsession for this one. I wrote this mostly as a dialogue / pacing exercise, but it’s also a bit therapeutic since I can actually relate to Zuko more than I realized or could have ever foreseen watching this show as a ten year old. Enjoy a little emotional romantic fantasy on behalf of a preteen crush and all the toxic friends I’ve ever had. ✌

~ Muerta

Zuko usually slept with you. It started one late night during a mutual bout of insomnia, in which you ran into him as you both wandered the halls of the Western Air Temple. You hardly knew him, but he sat with you and talked about everything that night - anything that wasn’t related to the war or either of your pasts that had been torn apart by it. He surprised you with his dry, even-toned sense of humor, as well as with his intelligence in not only combat but literature and philosophy as well; being a healer and a fortune teller by trade, you found a lot to talk about with him.

As the nights awake became more common, you and Zuko spent more of them together; sometimes you’d wait until you happened upon him in the halls, others one of you would designate a place to meet. Eventually, one of you would go directly to the other’s room and you’d sit, sharing whatever light or heavy thoughts happened to plague your minds. You learned a lot about him in those nights, and grew to feel proud of how far he’d come in such a short time - you often helped others, those much older than yourselves, over months to scale the internal struggles he had, and he’d managed to do so on his own. The more you gave to him, the more he gave back, and it soon became commonplace to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing as he lay in his sleeping bag on the other end of your room.

And that’s exactly what woke you up - the strange, still energy of your bedroom that indicated his resting place was empty. You rolled over, unable to spy his silhouette under the moonlit windowsill, and you rose, your feet carrying you to where you were certain he would be.

It was a gorgeous night, with a gentle breeze ruffling the crisp air. You found Zuko in the courtyard, gazing out over the fog veiled landscape under the swell of the full moon. Without a word, you sat beside him, watching the clouds roll by like ships on a silent ocean. His chest churned in turmoil, so intensely you could feel it in your own.

“Apparently, I can’t sleep without you anymore,” you said. “How selfish of you to have problems that keep you up at night.”

Zuko huffed out a soft chuckle, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift. He leaned back onto his palms, craning his neck backward and allowing the wind to tousle his ash-black hair.

“You didn’t need to come out here,” he told you gently. “It’s not your job to help me fix myself.”

“It never has been,” you replied. “I’ve never fixed anyone. All I ever do is listen and recite a few proverbs; everyone comes to their own conclusions in the end.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko retorted. “I’ve seen you heal. You can do things not even Katara can do, just with whatever happens to be growing nearby. It’s incredible.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Physical healing and emotional healing are two super different things,” you told him. “Emotional wounds can only really be healed by the people who have them. I mean, unless you want me to crack open your chest and poke around at your heart for a little while.”

Zuko chuckled again, the tenseness of his muscles easing up just slightly. He opened his palm and spawned a softly glowing flame, both of you watching it flicker in the cool night air.

“I wish I’d been born a water bender,” he mused. “Something that would do good for others. All fire does is destroy.”

You were silent for a moment, watching the thoughts swirl, tormented, behind his eyes. You thought of all the times you’d seen him smile, how his happiness made his handsome features all the more radiant and caused your stomach to bubble with joy. The memory shot a spike through your chest.

“... You know, we only ever see one part of the moon,” you commented, breaking the quiet. “Everything behind that - the dark side - we don’t really consider, even though it’s always there and is as much a part of the moon as the side that’s in front of us.”

Zuko smirked at you, distinguishing the flame in his hand.

“Reciting a proverb at me?” he teased.

You grinned.

“This one’s more like a metaphor,” you admitted cheekily. “That tea I make, the one that tastes awful but makes pain completely disappear?”

Zuko nodded.

“I need fire to make it,” you continued. “I have to roast the ingredients over an open flame before boiling them. Without fire, I couldn’t do most of my healing; it would be too painful without the tea to help.”

Zuko said nothing, but you could sense your words sinking into the cracks in his troubled thinking.

“Fire is heat and light,” you added. “It’s just as important to life as water or earth or air. Every element is capable of destruction or creation - there isn’t a single one that’s inherently good or bad. The person that controls them is the only one who determines that.”

There was another long pause, in which you busied yourself noting the different wild plants growing between the stones that paved the courtyard. You listed the different medicines you could make with each, the process calming you.

“I’ve done some pretty shitty things to people I care about in order to embrace my goodness,” Zuko finally spat. The bitterness in his tone stung you. You turned to him, and for a split second you caught a familiar, rageful glimmer in his eye; the sight made your own temper flare.

“Zuko, don’t do that to yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t just your father who hurt you and you know that.”

“I know,” he snapped, cutting off the end of your words. “I still care about her, though. I don’t even know if she really ever cared about me, but I still… I still miss her.”

Your ribs seemed to cave in, crushing your heart and lungs. He’d told you about Mai many times, and all you ever saw was that the darkness in her drew out the darkness in him; it even hung over you, clouding out the comfort you felt with Zuko and replacing it with unease and doubt. You feared there was no place in his heart for you - not while Mai still remained in it, no matter how badly her memory made him bleed.

“It’s hard,” you choked out. “I still miss some of the people who hurt me, too.”

That was all you could manage to say. You pulled your knees to your chest, half-burying your face in the fabric of your night dress as you forced the tears welling in the corners of your eyes not to flow.

This is what you get, you scolded yourself. This is what you get for feeling things for people you know could never feel the same about you.

A sensation of warmth curling around your shoulders made you jolt. Instinctively, you inched away, glancing in Zuko’s direction as he retracted the arm that had draped around you. You expected him to look away, but he didn’t - his pale amber eyes instead locked with yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You hold your head so high… I forget sometimes that you’re trying to heal, too.”

His words caused your tears to spill, though you didn’t cry; your face remained stony, and no sobs shook you. Your tears fell as easily as water from a cliff’s edge, impeded by nothing but the will of gravity.

“... The cards you lent me,” Zuko said after a pause, almost blurting the words. “I’ve been reading them, to help me let go of everything I left behind. I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

A few weeks ago, you’d given him a deck of cards you used for fortune telling. Each card depicted a different object, element, or scene, and were laid out in combinations that gave insight into a person’s spiritual path. You liked them more than other forms of fortune telling, as it encouraged its readers to make their own assumptions and drive their own fates instead of having it simply told to them. You gave your deck to Zuko so he could reflect on something finite, instead of getting consumed by his own thoughts. It was exactly what you used them for, and you knew they would help.

“Why?” you asked softly.

“I drew a card that didn’t make sense,” he told you. “I laid down the Tides, then the Crossed Blades, and then… I pulled the Badger Mole. The other two I understand - one is for movement and change, the other is for strength in allies, but I… can’t figure out what the Badger Mole is supposed to mean.”

“Badger moles are strong, powerful,” you explained, speaking dispassionately from memory, “but they’re gentle. The card represents the duality of both. They mate for life, too, so it also represents love and companionship.”

As you spoke, you felt a meteor crash between you and Zuko. His face fell, dumbfounded, as he looked at you, his eyes darting minutely back and forth as you watched the pieces mend together in his head.

“What do you feel?” you whispered, part of you terrified of his answer.

“... I feel like I’m fighting the tide,” Zuko replied, his tone awestruck. “It’s pushing me to shore, but I keep trying to swim back out to sea.”

The corners of your lips curled upwards slightly, your cheeks still sticky with tears.

“It’s really scary, huh?” you said. “Loving another person.”

“Yeah... especially when you’ve never known what it feels like before,” Zuko added softly.

You reached out, tentatively resting your palm against his cheek. His hand rose to close over yours, the sensation trembling you to your core.

“How many times have you pulled the Badger Mole?” you asked.

“Every time,” Zuko breathed. “I’m so stupid for not realizing. You make me feel wild and calm all at once. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I see you or even think of you, and I thought it was just fear or sadness. But… you don’t make me want to lash out like I used to, with my father and Azula and Mai… just the thought of you makes me want to be the best person I can be. Even though I know you already accept me for not being that person.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat defeatedly, your knees falling away from your chest and crossing in front of you. Your body was heavy, but your head felt light.

“I love you, Zuko,” you murmured. “But I’m afraid.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his eyes closing as he steadied his erratic breathing.

“If you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I think lovers are supposed to do.”

The word made every organ in your body jump to your throat. Lovers. Your limbs felt weak, but your heart felt strong with Zuko holding you.

Without thinking, you took his face in your hands and kissed him. It wasn’t hard and passionate like you expected, but firm, gentle, his lips pressing to yours like two palms grasped in an assuring embrace. He lay one of his large, able hands on the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin.

When you finally broke apart, Zuko gazed at you with a soft, forlorn expression. His fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much,” he said. “It must kill you.”

You shook your head, a soft smile forming on your lips, still red from where Zuko had kissed them.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “I know some people from my past you’d happily drive a knife into.”

Zuko chuckled, the light, airy smile you saw when he was truly happy spreading to each of his cheeks. The spike that drove itself through your heart when you thought of it earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet warmth of a low flame on a cold night. With him, you were safe.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Zuko suggested, taking your arm to help you stand.

His hand slipped easily into yours, your fingers twining together. He leaned forward and kissed you again, his lips only grazing yours, causing your skin to buzz with the sensation.

“... Do you think we’ll have to talk to Aang about this?” you asked as you walked back to your room.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at you, confused.

“He is your great-grandfather,” you elaborated with jest. “I should probably do the chivalrous thing and ask for his blessing or something.”

Zuko laughed, nudging you with his shoulder so that you stumbled over your feet. You shoved him back, to which he took you by the waist and wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing your cheek.

“He probably won’t care,” he replied. “But my uncle will love you.”

#muerta's works #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfic #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #lmao when you don't know how to end a fic

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blu-joons · 3 years

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The Making Of ‘You Calling My Name’ ~ Im Jaebum

Tears spilled onto the paper as he wrote down the lyrics, only hating himself further for ever making you cry. His mistakes had left him with heartbreak, and a catalogue of lyrics to put together to create his next masterpiece. It was the last thing that he wanted to write about, he never imagined he’d be left with the lyrical scars of you leaving.

As he sat at his desk, as he often did, he expected to hear you walk through the door. It became a habit for you both whenever you came home from work, you’d call out his name and let him know you were home and have a look at what he’d been working on.

“Jaebum!” You yelled, closing the door behind you as you stepped into the apartment. You followed the sound of his murmur back at you, opening up his studio door to see him slumped at his computer. “How’s it all going?”

“It will get better,” he mused, tapping his lap for you to sit in. “My inspiration is back with me now so I should be able to get back on with things.

Your eyes lit up, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “So, who might that be then?”

“You of course, silly.”

The silence killed him as he looked back at his laptop, the inspiration had left him now, the only memory he had of that inspiration was the fatal mistake he made that tore his life apart. The studio felt like it was closing in, the pressure of trying to come up with something.

As he began to think about all the things he done, he managed to scribble down page after page of regrets, plenty of comments of wishing that he’d never done what he had done.

“Y/N, please,” he mumbled, following you down the stairs as your suitcase crashed down behind you. “Where are you even thinking of going?”

You spun back around on your heels to face him, “I’m going anywhere away from you Jaebum, I’m fed up with being here and crying again and again. I’m worth more than this, you don’t deserve to treat me like this Im Jaebum.”

The last time he heard his name come from your lips still haunted him. He always held onto the fact that you’d come back to him and that it would be the last time he heard you call his name, but the anguish and torment was just a small price to pay for breaking your heart.

After hours sat at his desk, the lyrics all finally pieced together, completed, unlike the state he currently found himself. He never imagined missing his partner would hurt so bad, he wished and hoped that you’d come back and piece him back together again, but even he knew that you weren’t going to cave that easily.

With the song finally complete, the day finally came for the boys to debut the song on Music Bank. The list of artists performing was given to the boys as they made their entrance, JB’s eyes darted through it, spotting one familiar one at the bottom.

“She’s here,” he mumbled under his breath causing Jinyoung to turn back at him.

He reached out and pulled the piece of paper out of his hand, “she’s performing her song, don’t cause any trouble for her today,” Jinyoung warned him.

“I don’t want to cause trouble, I just want to hear her call my name,” JB sighed, snatching the list back, brushing his thumb over where your name was written before pressing the paper against his heart.

The corridors and the stage were places he’d walked several times before, he still remembered the last time he was at Music Bank, supporting you for your comeback, living the dream. He had the clearest memories of that day, and best of all, being with you at the moment you won.

For the rest of the day, his eyes had been hoping to fall on you, but you were nowhere to be seen. You’d also caught onto the rumour that the boys were performing, making sure to keep your distance so that you didn’t bump into him.

You crept around backstage as you noticed that the boys were next on stage, you looked next to the name of their song. ‘You Calling My Name.’ hit you like a tonne of bricks, as you glanced up at the stage and saw him for the first time, you paid close attention.

Throughout the entire performance, JB’s mind was only filled with thoughts of you, how bright the days used to be with you, the smile you always had whenever you heard him perform, how he wished that he’d be able to hear you call his name for one last time.

Your heart pounded as the song came to an end, quickly wiping under your eyes before anyone around you caught onto the fact that you were tearing. Your eyes focussed on Jaebum as he walked off the stage, completely unaware that you’d been at the other side all along.

Your head and your heart were still conflicted even once the show had come to an end, you were the first to admit that your performance wasn’t quite as you hoped, fogged by the vision of JB being in front of you for the first time in months.

As you closed your dressing room door, you glanced up the side of the corridor, spotting all seven of the members of Got7 leaving the dressing room just three doors down from you. Just as you tried to turn away, your eyes locked with Youngjae’s, noticing his eyes widen the second he saw you there.

Your body froze as he stepped aside so that JB was in your vision. You closed your eyes momentarily before looking across, staring at the back of his head.

“Im Jaebum,” you called out.

His body tensed up the moment he heard the familiar voice calling out his name. It took a moment before he turned around, feeling his eyes meet yours as soon as he spotted your figure down the corridor. Slowly, he began to step towards you, cautiously placing one foot in front of the other.

“Y/N,” he whispered once the boys were out of earshot.

Your head shook at how shy he had become, “I liked the song you guys performed, I could tell that you were into it.”

“Well, that’s all down to you,” he sighed, brushing his hands through the back of his mullet, “you’re the reason behind the song after all. You’re still a part of me, and somehow even thought you’re not around you’re still the biggest inspiration of my life.”

Your head nodded, leaning against the wall as you tried to keep your composure. “Are you really as regretful about what happened as the song suggests?”

“Even more so,” he assured you, finally bringing himself to meet your eyes. “You and me, we’re still one, we always will be, whatever happens won’t change that. You’re my reason Y/N, somehow even when you’re not a part of my life, you’re still there.”

You sighed gently, noticing the empathy that was in his eyes, a quality that you missed so much in him when he first decided to break your heart. Your body was pulling you in two different ways, he was still Jaebum, but still the one that had torn you apart.

“I want to hear you call my name again Y/N,” he confessed before you even had the chance to speak again. “I didn’t think I’d miss you this much, but all I’m asking is for one more chance to be able to prove myself to you.”

“You really think you can change my mind with one more chance?” You asked him.

His head nodded back at you, “say my name and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Im Jaebum,” you giggled, taking a step closer towards him.

“I’ll never make the same mistake again, just please come back to me Y/N.”

---

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predictable-affairs · 3 years

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I ✯A flip of the coin, but both sides are the same...✯

They would have never thought, never expected for something like this to happen. Never, especially from a bride...

Oh, but how beautiful the doomed bride was, falling into the hands of those sadistic boys... And she didn't even last a month, what an unlucky soul she was.

Yet nor her beauty, nor her grace shocked those boys to their core, it was what she left behind. Whilst cleaning, throwing and burning belongings of the deceased bride, the brothers found something rather unsual.

In the midst of a pile of clothes, that Reiji detested every time he saw it, going as far as to threatning the poor bride to clean it. "It's uterlly deplorable and unladylike!" he'd say in his usal stoic voice. "Alright, I'll clean it, thank you Reiji." agreed the deceased girl, always closing the door right in his face. Reiji did threaten to clean it himself, which always got the bride to insist not to, appereantly it didin't seem to bother the other boys. It seems that his threats weren't empty, since he did end up, after all, cleaning it himself.

Oh an what did he, what did they find in tha pile of clothes?

A small, chuby baby girl.

A child of the bride.

She was quite little, but still, perhaps could crawl? Nevertheless, she stared up, with dusty pink cheeks and innocence that only a child could hold, right at the boys around her, who surrounded her like flies on a rotting fruit. No talking, no crying, no whining, no protesting. Silence and a simple baby stare.

"How did she manage this?", "How did we not notice?!" were the question spinning like pretty ballet dancers in the heads of the vampires, but the most important one - "What should we do?".

A simultaneous question that popped like a red ballon realeasing acusations, opinions and confusion in everyones heads.

What should they do?

"I say we keep it!"

Is the first harsh voice of the fiery Ayato, whose hair could compete with his attitudes ego.

"No way!" next protests Subaru.

"I don't know what you will do, but I will not let... it... grow up among, or become like any of us." continues reasioning the white haired boy.

"Oh, but it doesn't have to grow up a monster, dear brother." interjects another triplet - Laito.

" Yet sadly, I have to agree with you, we do not need to keep another mere human." shrugs the playful boy with an unusual statment, even shocking some of the brothers, but they'd never let their face betray them like that...

He's usually the one who always wants more toys to play with, like a greedy child or an overworked bee.

"No! You are all wrong!" a fitty contradiction could be heard, almost from afar, or maybe right up close?

"We should keep it. I want to keep it!" the strict tone of voice comes from Kanato or perhaps his bear.

"Why? So you can torture it and turn it into another one of your dolls?" mocks Subaru, his pose getting a bit more uncomfortable.

The purple haired boy is in shock. Gripping his little brown bear, waiting to start a fight. How dare he say something like that?!

"If we are going to keep it, it will not be given to only one of us." interrupts a puzzeled, musing Reiji; like cold midnight water, extinguishing the growing new years flame, whose smoke was creating a violent atmosphere, so thick, that even honey would seem brethable enough to not drown in.

"So you agree, we should keep it?" harshly questions the flaming Ayato boy, his patience wearing thin; though insisde he was quite surprised. Does someone as stoic and stuck up as Reiji really agree to keeping a human and even a baby no less?

"No, of course not." offers no other words the mannered vampire, yet telling nothing new or surprising. Now with his gloved hand, which's white didin't differ too much from the pale of his hands, up to the chin, soothingly or maybe even camingly, carresing the face, helping to dose off deeper into his batteling thoughts of the situation he was put in just now.

"What about Shu?" continues questioning hopefully Ayato, for his prior hope just crumbled to calm ash.

Oh, the indifferent, lazy vampire Shu. The blond one of the group of brothers, the only one not in the circle, the only one peacefully resting on the pink covers of the many deceased brides bed, floating in a dream only accompanied by his music.

Or maybe it's something else, something more that he's listening to?

Lazily opening one eye, hardly letting the piercing blue thats holds the whole of the ocean and it's destructive tides in it, peak through, quietly resting on the palms of his hands. Just as lazily as he opened his eye, just as slowly did he close it.

"I do not care." in an indefrent tone that rainly mirrors his mood, is the anwser that he bearly pushes out in a rusty, raspy voice, slowly qiueting down like an echo or a shadow in the back of a throat with every simple word. Indefrence - as predictable as Reijis opposition.

And so the question stands unanswered - what will they do?

Oh, the tension is growing thick, thicker than fog, thicker than otmeal.

Though the atmosphere of violence was quickly put out, a one of verbal fighting is about to break down.

Oh, and a fight did ensue.

So much yelling, from Subaru, opposing, not wanting to raise anything among them; from Kanato, wanting company for his bear - Teddy, and someone to dress up; from Ayato, emptily reasoning with Laito and Subaru on why they should keep them; and quiet giggles, yet as strong as others arguments; Reiji kept quiet, still deep in his thoughts.

The fight kept getting louder, like a shopping mall with big sales or a cafeteria with good food, yet it didn't seem to bother Shu, how unusual...

"We are not going to keep them!" like punches, harsh words are thrown around the room, a ball, bouncing off the soothing pink walls.

"So where do you suggest we leave them?!" more questions coming from blank faces with yeling mouths.

"Kill them!" another shout.

"We are not keeping them!" the final word, stern voice of Reiji, slowly quieting everyone down.

Was it confusion that suddenly struck the aura of the room or pure shock, nobody knew, but it did engrain a moment of peace, silence to the room. It's pink walls suddenly started to feel like matresses.

One, two, three... that's the count of a rich waltz, and that's how long silence ruled the room.

A waltz, a single waltz.

Yelling, again, crueller words and oppositions, it's good that the baby can't talk, or else their vocabulary would be that of a sailor.

So much commotion such a war between the brothers, it seemed that the rosy baby no longer exsisted.

And so through the yelling, through the war of unpieced words and calmless attitudes, for better or worse, for against or by Reijis last words - it was decided.

They will keep her. They will keep the rosy cheeked baby.

And so, her adventure began.

"What... is it?" comes a small, tiny question from a unknown asker in a quiet little voice.

Everyone is silent, no one seems to have considered that question.

,,It's... a girl..." comes an equally akward anwser also from an unknown source.

Well, now her adventure can definetly start.

And so she grew up amongst the six boys, each one slowly, but surely taking a liking to her.

Whether it was the messy baths that Reiji gave the baby girl (which infurated him to no end; "A bath is supposed to be clean! How does one manage to make it so messy!" - a frequent phrase circling his brain like a dark taxi), the calming naps, that Shu took with her (annoying him when she cried waking up, to the point where he gave her a nickname to soothe her that sticked to this day), or maybe the play sessions with Kanato (which always seemed to put a giggly smile on her face, except when he got angry, then they'd both have a screaming, crying fit), the reading lessons with Laito (effectivelly putting her to sleep, yet he woke her up everytime and even in the midst of tired crying - he'd continue teaching her to read), perhaps the physical fun with Ayato (not once letting her win any games, even the one where he tought her how to walk. But that doesn't mean that there weren't any, though who is he to ever admit that?) and possibly the gentle feeding of Subaru (who had more trouble with it than he'd like to admit), that made them slowly grow accustomed to her, they will never know.

It seemed that each brothers compliance helped the others in return, like a mirror or an open letter passed around in a circle, each one slowly grew a soft spot, and even, dare I say, some attachment to her.

Such unusual behavior for a vampire (was it something in her or just them growing weak? - no one pondered), maybe thats why they never said a word to their father?

There was one thing the boys forgot to do - give her a name.

When this point was made, another fight almost ensued. Who should get to name the baby and what will they name them - the two mischievous questions that almost started a fight as if it was a race. Yet, just before the whistle was blown for words and saliva to start flying, a name issued, suggested by Laito, caught the attention of many, especially, since Ayato got very insisting on it and with a hiding blush - Subaru quietly agreed on.

The decesion was made, and the vampires named her (y/n).

They watched her grow up, always keeping her company, playing games and teaching what they wanted to. But they weren't the only ones who watched her. She also observed them.

As she learned to walk and speak, as she started writing her name in better hand writing, getting older with each and every birthday, she saw all the brides come and go, the way they were treated and how they never lasted (yet she stayed obliviuos to that she too, was a child of a bride long lost).

Obviuosly not just one or two brides tried to make friends with the girl; sometimes in the hopes of escape or sometimes just in hopes of finding a friend, someone "normal", someone to vent to.

At first (y/n) felt sorry for the brides, consoled them even.

But as time went on, as she kept getting older the reoccurences started to anger her.

She began despising the brides, how dare they speak the most attrocious lies, talk such foul things about the boys?! They would never do things that they vent of! And insulting them that way, it made her want for them to leave faster.

She hated how with each bride she'd get less attention, than when she was alone with the boys. She hated the brides, their lies and pesuasion of escape. Where would she go? And more importantly - why would she go? They were kind to her, good, they took care of her why would she ever want to run. And after one particular incident, an escape in which she was dragged in and almost lost the mansion, her... family, forever! (Y/n) completely stopped interacting with the brides.

That was the childhood of a lost brides child, but her fate, history, was yet to be made.

↢ What time is it? | II o’clock ↣

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thecitythatdoesntsleep · 3 years

Note

I’m the same anon who requested that collar whump and 🙌 it was so good!!!! if you want to go more whumpy I encourage it!!! The only limit I have is please no explicit smut. I’m fine with implied/referenced just not explicit. Otherwise you can go wild!!! I’d totally love to see it!!! thank you so much!! 💞💞💞

Awwh! I'm so super happy that you liked it, that pleases me greatly to know that it was enjoyable! I insist, for your kind words let me treat you to something extra whumpy!

Limits understood! Let's crank up the whump button and keep that 'too familiar' with Whumpee going. Mind if I add a pinch of obsession into that intimate whumper? You know, as a treat because you deserve it anon! Rewinding time a bit, this is before the first post.

(Tags/TW: Collar whump, Intimate Male Whumper, Female Whumpee, Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsession whump, Choking, Hanging, Swinging by neck, Neck whump, Broken bones, Noncon touching, referenced/implied noncon, Hot/Cold Whumper, Hair pulling, Drugging, Cursing/strong language, Vampire whump. )

"You were too naive, you know that?" Whumper stated, hand gripping a flawless face and watching pretty, gemstone eyes roll in their sockets. "You never saw me, all this time, watching you from afar."

"I hoped you'd notice, I really did. I was so messy a couple of times, I ran right into you and somehow you never even saw me." It almost sounded pained, the way Whumper said it. Thick with emotion as his grip on her jaw became more violent and drew her out of the haze.

"I don't know if I should be insulted... Or happy you're so oblivious to the world around you."

As soon as Whumpee made it through the fog, her features pinched in a grimace and the sight before her wasn't one she'd expected. She recognized him but couldn't place him anywhere, her mind telling her she'd definitely seen him before.

"But you're here now... and you're going to be my pet now. No one will ever know I didn't buy you, I made sure of it." The more he rambled, the more infatuated he became with touching her. First her shoulder, now he was holding her hand, bringing it to his lips for a clammy, tacky kiss.

"Y-You're all mine," He was frantic, panicked as if he was both excited and terrified for what he was actually doing. Having kidnapped and tranquilized her thus far.

"Like.. hell I am.." She rasped, watching him fight off a chuckle and lose almost instantly.

"Hah- You're not going to have a choice. I'm your Master and pets obey their masters." Whumper insisted, reaching for a collar that had been already chained up to a pipe in the basement ceiling. "I'm going to teach you how to behave down here first, then w-wh-when you're broken in, yeah? Then.. Then I'll let you upstairs like a real pet."

He grabbed her up by the hair and she flew into fight or flight as soon as she was lifted off the ground. He was big, she'd give him that. Tall, probably 6'4 and he definitely worked out and enjoyed his carbs at the same time.

She was on the shorter side, but she knew how to use her weight and no matter the tension on her hair; she wormed her whole body to wrench away from him. The force was messy, her system still getting used to the hazy, limpness in her limbs.

"Bad!" He growled in resonating anger, using the grip on her scalp to slam her head into the wall. The first obviously dazed her and the second left her stilling. "You're gonna wear your fucking collar! L-Like a good pet!"

She looked at him with stars in her vision and pain seeping from the back of her head, features cracking with lines of hatred. She could smell it, her skin had split open on the poorly constructed brick wall and it stung when it started fusing back together from her healing speed.

She couldn't let him know just how her body worked or she feared the worst of his wrath. He really seemed like a horror movie villain at this point, the way he stuttered and looked at her with such blatant, scrutinizing attention.

"T-Thats too high, take it down and I'll wear it." She tried to reason, feeling one of his hands grab around the front of her neck while the other repositioned in her hair.

"It's not training if it's not painful.. what would you learn from just wearing a collar?" He questioned, tone acidic like she was a moron for even thinking of suggesting such a thing.

Those damned drugs did her in, if only she'd been at full strength when he tried again to wrestle her over and up to the collar he had waiting on her. She could have thrown him across the room, easily, if he hadn't somehow managed to subdue her. Now it was a struggle to keep herself on the ground as the muscular human kept taking her footing away from her.

She kicked and kicked and even when she landed contact with his legs, she knew it wasn't strong enough to even pull a reaction from him. He eventually won, hoisting her up and latching the thick, chain collar around her neck to entrap her with her own weight. It was just in distance to let the tips of her outstretched toes barely brush the ground.

"There, now you can squirm all you want, you'll just go swinging." He mused, giving her a push by her hips and watching her uselessly grip above her in the swing.

She felt like at any moment, her neck would snap, a grinding sound in her bones giving a warning creak when she reached the highest point. Her vocal chords were ruthlessly crushed against the curvature of the chain and she couldn't stop the faux spasms she felt in long-deadened lungs. It felt like she was a human again, drowning or being smothered, only she hadn't needed real air in decades.

Choking gurgles of begging barely registered past how hard he'd started laughing. She was like a chandelier in a living room that a mischievous housemate knocked into. Swinging in whatever pattern or direction gravity took her until she learned that she'd only stop if she went still.

Finally whumper stopped her and grabbed her backside to lift her up against him, holding her face to face with a devious smile across his face. "You're l-like a piñata. It's kind of cute."

Her hands flew up and in a sound clap, cupped his ears in a deafening impact. Immediately his head started to ring and he dropped her with such force she nearly slammed into him again on the downswing.

Whumper covered his ears and shoved fingers in them, anxiously feeling for blood and unable to hear anything but an ambient whine. He was furious and the stunning pain left him staggering back a few paces to let her endure the remaining momentum. The faintest of garbled blubbering could be heard and it was his only hope that he hadn't been completely deafened.

"You stupid bitch.." He roared, louder than he'd realized in his current state. "Y-You just lost your fucking hands!"

A vicious latch onto one of her arms and his opposite hand grabbed her wrist, twisting and wrenching it beyond it's natural pivot. She grabbed onto his wrists, nails dug in but couldn't stop the force he'd held her with.

The crack was agonizing, it popped so many times and she would have vomited if not for the noose around her neck. The limb instantly radiated pain and fell limp, unable to hold upright on the destroyed joint. Muffled cries were distant to him and even though he was looking her in the face, she sounded soft.

She'd stopped swinging when he grabbed her second arm and gave the faintest of tugs back from his menacing grip. Begging, pleading without shaking her head or making a single noise.

He ignored it. Snapping the second joint in a long twist and the satisfaction that he had with the feeling of breaking a bone was maddening. He savored it, giving an extra roll this time and really feeling the damage he'd done inside her skin.

"I bet you'll behave for me now, wont you?" He picked her up once more, this time leaving space between their upper halves in hesitation. When she left her hands at her sides, he was pleased with the progress they'd already made.

"God, even when you're in pain and have spit all down your face, you're still pretty." Whumper praised, taking his hold on her a bit easier now, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs and encouraging them to wrap around his waist for reprieve.

They did, as disgusting as it felt it relieved the tension on her neck and she was almost grateful in just that short time alone.

He pet her head fondly now, pushing down the strands he'd frizzed and upset and he pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe her mouth. Her lips hung open like she was panting but no breath escaped her, throat desperately trying to clear with small growls and hacks.

"I've never seen you blush until now, I feel special." Whumper pushed her bangs back and returned down her face with a loving sweep while holding her; thumb tracing her lower lip.

"I can't believe you're finally all mine. I get to keep you forever and ever and... You can't escape me anymore." As if his mind was looping through all the times he'd thought about her or thought about kidnapping her, he stared into her eyes blankly.

Even if she didn't remember, he certainly did. Every encounter, every time he'd sent her a drink at the bar and been to shy to say something. When she flat out rejected him for a dance. The time she'd gotten in a taxi with him and he didn't say anything to her. The week he'd paid for her coffee in the drive thru, strategically, every day getting ahead of her in line.

It had all been worth it.

"You can't reject me anymore. You can't hide.. or brush me off or ignore the gifts I get you." The more he rambled, he less he was looking at her and the more he was looking through her. He framed her body, wrapped along her curves with a curious hand. He abandoned the hold and let her support herself when he couldn't handle not touching her with both of them.

"Now.. I can finally love you how you deserve.."

Sorry it took me so long to get to this anon! I hope this is respectful of your wishes and not too much towards the descriptive side. I also tried to go with the same tropes you'd requested but just make it more miserable. ; ^ ;

I know there is a very thin border to intimate whump and it can transition beyond the boundaries very easily. So if you have any critiquing or things to avoid that could help in the future, I'd love to know so I can gain some more versatility. I would (ideally) love to be able to cater to all requests in all forms and insight will only help me with that goal.

Another apology for the wait. Had some personal life stuff come up and wasn't in the feelings to write much. But I'm back on the rise and I'm hoping to get to everyone's messages and requests within the next few days.

I will not be doing first come first serve, I'm just doing whatever inspires me with this batch. Sorry if anyone thinks that's unfair, it's just how it is for me as a writer. This is 1 out of 7 asks and I don't even remember which ones came first because I immediately convert them into drafts. : ( But thank you so much for the req! Hope you enjoyed. <3

#whump #whump prompts #lady whump #female whumpee #pet whump #pet whump prompts #collar whump #intimate whumper #tw whump #tw broken bones #tw hanging #tw choking #tw abuse #tw implied noncon #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #tw noncon touching #tw obsession #long post

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yoontopia · 4 years

Text

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: detective au; fluff, a smidgen of angst, childhood friends to lovers

rating: 18+ (mentions of assault, domestic abuse and suicide; minor character death, serial killers are mentioned, minor mention of alcohol and weapons, most likely an inaccurate portrayal of policework)

word count: 7.7k

summary: when a case forces you to re-visit your hometown, you’re also forced to re-visit your past and one particular jeon jungkook, your childhood friend, and the man you’d fallen in love with -- while he’d been been engaged to someone else.

author’s note: whew this is me coming back to writing for the first time in a WHILE. happy (belated) birthday jungkook! I’m sorry for being 8 days late T_T

The first thing you do when you get into work is make coffee. The lieutenant has recently invested in a rather pricey looking coffee machine after giving the entire team a loud and exasperated lecture about “leaving the precinct to take too many coffee breaks”. You can’t say that you complain about this new arrangement.

The second thing you do when you get into work is check the files on your desk. It is when you’re rifling through these, a mug of steaming black liquid next to you, that your partner slaps another folder on your desk.

“What is this?” you ask, looking up at his tired demeanour. Min Yoongi is an excellent detective, but talent and success come at a price. You don’t think the man has ever gotten a good night’s rest.

“A 16-year old girl found murdered by the piers in Busan,” Yoongi says, pulling the chair from the empty desk next to you and subsequently collapsing in it. “The fishermen found her early this morning.”

“Busan?” you ask, the name of your hometown heavy on your tongue. “What business does that have with the Seoul Major Crimes Unit?”

“It becomes our business when you see how she was killed.” Yoongi states, leaning forward and flipping open the file for you. You look down at the medical examiner’s report, light finally shedding on your situation.

“Legs and hands tied with plastic cable ties, throat slashed, face carved into a permanent mangled grin – its Him. The age and description of the girl match with his previous victims and Busan PD asked us to come down since we’re handling The Joker’s case.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “What did I tell you about enabling him?” Yoongi shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

You stare back down at the photos of the crime scene, your brain trying to piece together the information. This particular serial killer – nicknamed The Joker by the general public for the way he dismembered his victims’ faces – had been at large for a couple years now and had murdered five young girls. Well, you muse, the count is up to six now.

“He’s never struck outside Seoul before,” you murmur. In your periphery, Yoongi nods, taking a sip out of his own coffee. “This is so out of his way. Are we sure its not a copycat?”

“I considered that,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “The lead detectives in charge of this case want us to check it out and see if we can figure out of it’s the real deal. If it is The Joker, the case is ours anyway.”

“I know some cops in Busan,” you say, closing the file. You had grown up there and worked there before transferring. “Who’s in charge?” Yoongi stares at you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper with names scribbled on it.

“Let’s see—the man who called this morning – a Kim Taehyung – do you know him?” You blink.

“Yeah, we-we went to college together,” you say, your voice suddenly hushed.

“Aw that’s cute, a little reunion,” Yoongi grins but then studies your expression. “Is it not a happy occasion?”

“No no,” you laugh weakly. “Taehyung is fine – great actually! He’s good at what he does too. I’m grateful he’s in charge of this one.”

“Great, we leave tomorrow first thing,” Yoongi says, electing to ignore your high voice and nervousness. “I got us KTX tickets for the first train out.”

You nod, swallowing. Kim Taehyung isn’t the problem, it’s who he’s partners with that has your stomach in knots.

Your train pulls into Busan at a very early hour that even coffee can’t fix. You heave your duffel bag over your shoulder and wait for Yoongi to grab his before stepping off onto the platform. Yawning, you look around.

The dawn has left behind a slight fog around the city and the morning October air has a slight chill in it. You haven’t been back in Busan since the day you left, some two years ago. Your parents had moved to Seoul recently, taking with them the only reason you’d ever have to visit this seaside city.

Yoongi hops off the train next to you and looks around. He’s a Daegu native, but knows this city like the back of his hand.

“I booked us a hotel near the crime scene,” is the first thing he says.

“That’s not morbid at all,” you chuckle, and he rolls his eyes. “But first I’m guessing we head straight to the precinct?” Yoongi nods and the two of you opt to share a cab instead of taking the public transport.

Before you know it, you’re getting off at the police department. Two officers at the entrance have been alerted of your arrival and show you the way. Yoongi shoots you a surprised look, but you grin back. Busan has always been known for its friendly and amicable citizens.

When you enter what is obviously the homicide department, Taehyung is the first person you see. He shouts your name from across the room, turning several heads, and bounces towards you like a golden retriever reunited with its long-lost owner.

“That is Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed.

“Its so good to see you!” he says, a boxy grin painting his face. You take him in. Taehyung hasn’t changed much since college, but the dyed blonde hair he used to sport when he was younger has now been swapped for his natural black curls, which bounce every time he walks. “And you must be Detective Min, we spoke on the phone”

“Ah—yes,” Yoongi utters, thoroughly thrown off. You hide a smile.

“Come in, come in! Ah you can leave your bags by my desk for now.” The two of you do as you’re told, and Taehyung then leads you to a small conference room which holds a projector screen, a small round table, and a few chairs.

“I assume you’ve read the case file?” he asks and when you nod, he continues. “We haven’t had anything quite like this before – at least not during my career. I realize the two of you are the leads on The Joker right now, so any help you’re willing to provide is appreciated really.”

“Any new developments?” you ask, pulling out the file from your backpack. Taehyung hums before sitting down across from you.

“The toxicology report came back right as you arrived, I got a text from my partner,” Taehyung says, and you try to keep a straight face. “He’s over there right now he should be here soon, by the way,” You’re thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic for too long, most likely out of respect for you. “They found morphine in her system, so we’re inclined to believe that she was drugged before being tied up and killed. Your raise your eyebrows at this piece of information.

“The Joker doesn’t drug his victims.” You state. “They’re all very much awake when he ties them up and slashes their throats. The carved smile is always scratched in post-mortem.”

“Well there are inconsistencies then,” Taehyung says, running a hand through his hair. “All the wounds here were caused after he actually killed her – and that includes… whatever he did to her face.”

“So, we’re looking at a copycat.” You state.

“Or he’s changed his MO.” Yoongi adds.

“He hasn’t changed it for his first five victims what was special about this one that he had to drug her to knock her out first? No, this sounds like someone plotting murder and covering it up. Either way let’s explore all avenues.” You say.

“I agree,” comes a voice from behind you and you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to see the very person you’d been dreading running into since stepping foot on the platform this morning. Jeon Jungkook walks in, two cups in his hands, setting one down in front of Taehyung. He leans over to shake hands with Yoongi, giving you a mere side-glance. He sits down across from the two of you and takes a sip of his drink. Distractedly, you wonder if its coffee – as far as you know he was never a big fan.

The again, you muse, you’re not sure you really know him anymore.

There’s an awkward sort of silence and Yoongi’s body language tells you he’s noticed something’s off. Taehyung clears his throat.

“I’m assuming the two of you will want to check the crime scene out?”

“And the body.” You add. Taehyung nods and stands up.

“Do you want to split up or do both together?” You look at Yoongi.

“Together,” the two of you say at the same time. Yoongi’s smiling. You smile back.

Getting into the back of Taehyung’s sleek black SUV, you watch Yoongi jump in from the other side, dark hair slightly tousled from trying to get some sleep on the train. He’d been your partner for the entirety of your career with the Seoul PD. The two of you had started as rookie cops and had spent the first few months catching small-time criminals. Yoongi was easy to work with, and you’d found a fast friend in him, being alone in a big, unfamiliar city. You closed cases like no one else and before you knew it, the two of you were promoted to Major Crimes as detectives. The Joker was one of your first cases and it was a real thorn in your side that you hadn’t managed to catch the bastard yet.

Jungkook gets in the passenger seat next to Taehyung. He hasn’t so much as addressed you yet, except for agreeing with your previous statement. You had expected as much. He’s still sipping on his drink. Taehyung is talking to one of the officers by the main gate and you take this time to really take in Jungkook’s appearance.

He hasn’t changed – gotten broader maybe. His hair is slightly longer, falling into his eyes. His ears are still pierced in multiple places, although right now he’s only wearing simple rings in both ears. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt, which you recognize is from the Busan Police Academy as you own the same one. His right hand is littered with tattoos you can’t make out, and they disappear into his arm. That is new and you wonder when he got them done. Unable to help yourself, your eyes travel to his left hand, his ring finger. You’re surprised to find it empty. The last time you saw him, there was definitely a ring there. It was the last time you were in Busan. You haven’t returned since.

“Did Namjoon text you?” Yoongi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look at your partner distractedly. “He said he was going to.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” You mutter, before pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. There is an unread message, surely enough from your co-worker.

“Yeah he says Holly’s fine,” You tell Yoongi, scrolling through the message. “He was a little shy last night but seems to have taken a liking to Joon.” Yoongi heaves a sigh of relief. Yoongi was also your roommate back home, and his dog meant more to him more than anything else. You secretly were also extremely fond of the little brown poodle. “He says he’ll send pictures later.” Yoongi scoffs at that.

“He better, I do not trust that man with our dog.” Yoongi says and you smile at his wording. Holly was definitely Yoongi’s dog, you had just moved into his apartment when he was in need of a roommate to help cover the rent. It was so easy to be platonically domestic with Min Yoongi.

“Why didn’t you just leave him with your brother?” you ask, putting your phone away, looking out through the window to see if Taehyung is done.

“Geumjae’s in Daegu for my Mom’s birthday.” you turn to Yoongi in surprise.

“It’s your Mom’s birthday and you’re here?” you ask in surprise. Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe we should stop in Daegu on the way back.”

“I considered it,” he says. “If we have time.”

“I’d like to meet her.” You say warmly.

Jungkook clears his throat and you look at him, having forgotten he’s in the car too. He’s about to say something when Taehyung opens the door and gets in on the driver’s side.

“Sorry,” he says. “We have another ongoing case.”

“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi says. “You could’ve just left us to go do all this by ourselves.”

“No this case takes precedent for us too,” Taehyung says, starting up the car. “Plus, we’re here to help you if you ever need anything.”

The rest of the drive is silent, but its an almost-comfortable type of silence. You look out the window, taking in the familiar streets from your younger years. Nothing really has changed but then again, two years isn’t a long time at all. Or maybe it is. You’re not sure anymore.

“You say she was found near Haeundae?”

“Near the Haeundae market, yes.” Jungkook answers, surprising you. “She hadn’t been in the water and no water was found in her lungs, so she wasn’t drowned. No blood or signs of struggle in the surrounding area meaning she was killed elsewhere and brought to the market. We aren’t sure why this particular location was chosen--”

“The killer wanted her to be found,” you say, your voice soft, cutting him off. “The markets open before anything else. Everyone who lives here knows that.” Jungkook turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he’d walked into the conference room.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think so too.”

“ID?” Yoongi asks, and either he’s pretending not to feel the tension in the car, or he doesn’t notice it. Knowing Yoongi, it’s probably the former.

“16-year-old Park Sohee,” Jungkook says, turning back to look at the little black notebook he has open. “Attended high school in Haeundae, grew up in the area too.”

“Have you spoken to the parents?” You ask.

“Yesterday,” he replies. “She was on the swim and dive team at school. Had excellent grades and many friends. A popular kid. Parents say she had no enemies, and no boyfriend, and wasn’t involved in anything ‘bad’.”

“Yeah well a parent is always going to say that,” you muse. “Have you spoken with her school? Friends? Swim coach?”

“Not yet. We waited for you.” You nod at that.

“I’d like to see the body after this if that’s okay. Yoongi can go talk to the school.” Yoongi nods beside you.

“Sure, one of us can go with you and the other can go with Detective Min.” Taehyung says, pulling up near the fish markets. You step out of the car, the smell of fish immediately overpowering you. You wrinkle your nose and look around. The market is exactly the same as you remember it. The familiar stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood to small trinkets and jewelry. It isn’t too busy right now considering it’s a weekday, which means you can look around easily.

“Nostalgic?” Jungkook asks stepping in beside you. You smile slightly.

“Only a little,” you answer him. “We used to come here a lot.”

“I still do to be honest,” he jokes. “The naengmyeon here is unrivalled.”

“Still?” you ask surprised, and he nods.

“Have some while you’re here,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the nearby trashcan. “I know you like it.” He’s looking at you once again looking like he wants to say something. You understand, there are so many words left unsaid between you after all. You’re not sure you want to open that door though. Jungkook has always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“Over here,” Taehyung motions from some distance away and the two of you make your way to him. Yoongi is already standing there and he hands you a pair of gloves. Pulling them on, you lift the yellow police tape to make your way to the scene.

“They found her in front of this stall, on her back.”

“On display,” you say, kneeling near the chalk outline of the body. “Killer wanted us to see her face and neck.” You looked up at Jungkook and Taehyung, who were looking at you in confusion.

“It’s another inconsistency,” you say, standing up. “The Joker’s victims are all found face down. This guy totally didn’t do his research considering he was trying to be a copycat.”

“He wanted us to see the slashed throat,” Yoongi says. “He’s an amateur at this.” You nod.

“The cause of death was the morphine, I’m guessing. The wounds were all inflicted post-mortem”

“She had no other inflictions,” Jungkook says. “You can look at the tox screen when we go see the body and talk to the M.E. too.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple fishermen,” Taehyung reads off his notes. “Time of death is approximately 3-4 AM and both their alibis check out, they were out on the docks ready to head out.”

“I say we tell the press we’re convinced it’s the Joker,” you say, taking off your gloves and pocketing them.

“I agree,” pipes up Jungkook.

“Detective Min, if you can come with me to go talk to the family,” Taehyung says to Yoongi and then turns to you. “Go with Jungkook to see the body,” he says. You nod hesitantly, half-hoping it would’ve been the other way around. “We’ll drop you off on our way.”

Before you know it, you’re standing next to Jungkook outside the medical examiner’s office. Jungkook pushes the door open, letting you go through first.

“Hey Jin, I’m back,” he says and you hear a crash and a man appears from behind some shelves. He’s wearing a lab coat, dark hair disheveled. He looks at you.

“Oh, the detective from Seoul I’m guessing!” he says, his voice oddly melodious. “Kim Seokjin, MD.” You shake his hand, grinning and introducing yourself. You already like him.

“She wants to take a look at the body.”

“Of course, of course,” Seokjin says rushing around to the many shelves in the wall, popping one open and pulling out the body of Park Sohee.

You and Jungkook make your way towards it. You peer down at the young girl.

“The morphine is likely what killed her,” Seokjin says, watching you.

“She has bruises,” you say softly, staring at her abdomen. “Post-mortem?”

“No.” Seokjin replies. “She got those when she was alive. The coloring indicates they’re old.”

“Swimming and diving aren’t high contact sports,” you say. “Where did she get these bruises on her arms and chest?”

“You thinking domestic abuse?” Jungkook asks from behind you

“The parents said she didn’t have a partner. How did the parents seem?”

“Upset,” Jungkook starts, then stops. “You think the parents did this?”

“Just considering all options. Her team coach is also a possibility. I won’t know until we’ve checked all of them.” You look down at her again. “A pretty girl.” You say. “Can I have copies of the tox screen?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, walking over to his desk to print out a copy. “There isn’t much other than the morphine. An overwhelming amount.”

“Where would they get access to so much morphine?”

“No idea,” he says walking over and handing you the toxicology report, which you subsequently put in your bag. “But it was way over the lethal amount. The killer isn’t an expert on dosage. My guess? Someone who has no idea how killing works.”

You and Jungkook walk out of the building. The afternoon sun is peaking out, making you shed your jacket.

“You hungry?” he asks, and you realize you are. All you’ve had since arriving in Busan is coffee. “There’s a galbi place around here.”

He leads you around the corner into a small restaurant and you enter behind him.

“Jungkookie!” comes an excited voice and you see an elderly woman wearing a flowery apron making her way towards you. “It’s been a while!”

Jungkook grins at the woman and greets her politely and she ushers you over to a small table by the window facing the busy street. Handing you a menu, she smiles kindly at you.

“You’re a regular?” you ask.

“I used to be. It’s been a while honestly.”

You scan the menu, your mouth immediately watering.

“The dak-galbi here is unreal,” he tells you and you pretend to throw the menu away.

“Well how dare I eat anything else then!” Jungkook laughs, high and melodic. Its been a while since you’ve heard that laugh. “Let us split the dak-galbi. I also want rice.”

Jungkook gets up and walks over to the counter himself to give your order. You watch him, a small smile on your face. He collapses back in his seat, bringing over two glasses of water.

“So,” he says.

“What’s with the tattoos.” You blurt out, eyeing his hand. He stares down at it too.

“Wanted a change, I guess,” he says slowly. “Life was getting pretty dull around here.”

“So, you got inked,” you say grinning. He grins back.

“I’m happy this isn’t awkward,” he says after a while and you freeze. “I’m glad we can sit and talk like this still.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

“About back then—” he starts, and you sigh. You want desperately to avoid this conversation but Jungkook, ever the straight arrow, has never liked underlying tension, and prefers everything laid out on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you tell him, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“No, I am sorry,” his tone is firm. “I ruined our friendship, made everything weird and drove you away. I know I’m the reason you’ve avoided this place until now and even now you’re only here because you have to be—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, and he halts mid-rant, his doe-like eyes wide. “Stop talking. I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted immature and it was me who ruined everything, not you. I didn’t come back because-because it hurt at first and then I didn’t come back because I thought you’d be happier without having to deal with me.”

“How could you think that?” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. It makes the ink on his hand stand out even more. You see a sketch of a small rose, about an inch tall, right below his index finger, and bite your lip. “You were my best friend.”

“It’s different now,” you assure him, still staring at the rose. It’s staring back at you, a silent taunt. It brings up repressed memories you rather not face. “Things are different. I’m happy—in Seoul. Please don’t blame yourself for everything that happened. I wasn’t angry to see you, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I’m happy now and I’ve moved on from all that.”

“With Yoongi.” Jungkook says, and you’re not sure why he sounds so bitter.

“With Yoongi, yes,” you say. Yoongi’s your work partner and a steady shoulder when you need one. He’s your roommate and best friend. Seoul is lonely and even after two years of living there, he’s one of your only friends. But as soon as you say it, something in Jungkook’s expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He sits back. “He’s the best partner anyone can ask for, and a damn good detective.”

Jungkook nods once, jaw clenched. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, your food arrives and you’re too hungry to think of much else.

After that, the two of you only make polite small talk. There’s no tension but you can’t help but feel like the wall that was crumbling has somehow repaired itself. Jungkook’s phone rings as he’s finishing his rice.

“Tae, hey,” he says, phone in his left hand as he eats with his right. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t wear his ring anymore. “Okay sounds good. No, we can just walk to the station its only a couple blocks. Yeah man see you there.”

“They done talking to the school?”

“Yeah they’ll fill us in when we get there.”

“So, what’s the deal?” Yoongi asks, his lithe body curled up on the hotel armchair in your room. His room is next door, but the two of you had ordered room service for dinner. Empty bowls of jajangmyeon lie littered on the small side table next to him.

“The deal with what?”

“Detective Jeon,” You turn to Yoongi and fix him with a stare. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” you reply.

“You two have a history? It got seriously weird at times today.”

“No history—it’s the same as Taehyung, we attended the police academy together. Taehyung was a couple years ahead of us though.”

“And?”

“And I’ve also attended middle school and high school with Jungkook. He was my neighbour growing up.”

“Ah childhood friends,” Yoongi hums. “But what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Because you left behind a perfectly good life here when you moved to Seoul? Because you never talk about these people? Before today I didn’t even know of them. And also, because you were absolutely dreading coming here.” You sigh, hating Yoongi’s astute personality.

“Jungkook found out how I felt,” You say quietly. “About him.”

“Oh.”

“While he had a girlfriend.”

“…Oh.”

“Who he was engaged to.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi’s tone makes you giggle, relieving the pain a little.

“Obviously, he never felt the same way, but then things got so weird. It was like we could never go back to what was. Jungkook skirted around me, his girlfriend hated my guts, I had to avoid our whole friend-group because all of his friends were my friends. It felt claustrophobic.”

“So, you left.”

“Not exactly,” you say. “I wasn’t actively looking to run away, but when the option to move was presented to me, I hesitated way less than I originally would have.”

“And are you still in love with him?” Yoongi asks, voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you reply, thinking of the small rose tattooed on Jungkook’s hand. It’s easier to deny. “It’s been two years and as far as I know he could be married by now.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Yoongi answers, like the detective he is. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He was head over heels for Jangmi.”

“What a delicate name,” Yoongi muses.

“She was the delicate kind,” you agree. “Kind, pretty, gentle – just like her name—like a rose.”

“Every rose has its thorns though,” Yoongi says wisely. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Detective Jeon. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You’re such a romantic at heart Min,” You tease. Yoongi only smiles softly in return. “It doesn’t matter. Jungkook’s life is here and mine is in Seoul. After we wrap this case up, I probably won’t see him again. I’m happy with my life right now.”

“Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it’ll one day become the truth.”

“Anyway, go over what you saw with the victim’s school again.” You sit on your bed cross-legged, your go-to posture when you’re trying to focus.

“Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Her swim coach is a well-respected man. Usually men in power take advantage of multiple people under them but none of the other girls in the team seemed out of sorts to me. Her teachers all spoke highly of her—she really did have excellent grades. It seemed she was friendly with everyone in her class and on her team. I’ve hit a block.”

“That’s frustrating.”

“The bruises you mentioned are bothering me,” Yoongi adds. “They don’t seem to have an explanation and the parents seemed surprised when we asked them about it.”

“Alibis for the parents?”

“Asleep at home,” he hums. “No way for us to check that. Sohee was on her way back from swim practice and when she didn’t show up at home at the regular time by 10pm her mother started worrying. They claimed they would call the police the next day, but of course it was too late.”

“They didn’t think their daughter not showing up at home was a cause for panic?” You ask. “It’s weird to me. She wasn’t the rebellious type, so this must not have been normal behaviour.”

“You’re set on the parents, aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, stretching his legs out.

“It’s just this feeling, I don’t even have an explanation for it.”

“A hunch.”

“Yes but no proof,” You grit your teeth in frustration.

It rains on your second day in Busan. You roll out of bed to the sound of the tell-tale pitter patter and groan. Getting ready and putting on the jeans from yesterday along with a black dress shirt, you hop around trying to tuck it into the waistband. There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Jungkook.

“Oh—hey,” he is not who you expected to be at your door so early in the morning.

“Your partner left your hotel info with Tae.” He says, curious eyes peering around your hotel room. You quirk a small smile and let him in. He sits down on the chair Yoongi was occupying last night.

“So, what’s up?”

“We found a suspiciously large amount of money in a savings account under Park Sohee’s name,” Jungkook is still looking around your room curiously and you don’t know why.

“Suspicious?”

“She was sixteen,” he says. “What’s a 16 year old doing with fifty million won?” Your eyes widen at the amount.

“Do her parents know?”

“We’re going down to see them now that’s why I’m here.” Jungkook stands up. “Where’s Min?”

“In his room probably. He’s not a morning person.” Jungkook blinks down at you.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?”

“Huh?” You pause mid-way of packing your backpack for the day. “Why would we?”

“Because… you’re together—wait what,” Jungkook looks so confused you almost find it adorable.

“What the fuck Jeon, we’re not together – not like that.” You say.

“B-but yesterday you said you’d moved on with him—”

“Yes, as partners – you know? The thing we do for work.” You’re trying not to laugh.

“B-but you own a dog together and live together.”

“We’re cops, Jeon, not billionaires. Rent in Seoul is atrocious, he’s my roommate. Also, Holly is Yoongi’s dog, not mine.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook hides his face behind his hands and sits back down. You’re laughing. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You know—you should ask Yoongi how Jung Hoseok is doing.” You say, grinning.

“Who?” Jungkook looks up.

“His boyfriend,” you’re trying hard not to burst back into giggles. “Lives in Gwangju on a temporary assignment. The guy whose room I’m technically renting out. They were roommates before getting together. When he had to move out for work, Yoongi needed someone to help cover the rent.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, hiding behind his hands again. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say laughing. “Easy mistake to make… I think?” Jungkook is looking at you from in-between his fingers.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?” His direct tone throws you off. You turn to fully look at him, but a knock on the door interrupts you both.

It’s Yoongi, and he doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook in your room.

“Taehyung texted me,” he says. “Detective Jeon,” he adds in greeting.

“Please,” Jungkook smiles, “call me Jungkook.” Yoongi raises both his eyebrows and looks at you in question and you’re trying to fight laughter once again.

The ride to the victim’s parents’ house is quiet. Taehyung drives and you spend the time pondering over Jungkook’s words from earlier. He’d been angry yesterday because he’d assumed you and Yoongi were together. You frown to yourself because nothing makes sense. Had he fallen out with Jangmi? But it’s not like Jungkook had ever thought about you as anything other than a friend. You remember his words from back then, loud and clear, and they come back to you now.

“I’m sorry.”

You remember his apologetic eyes, the glint of his wedding band; he had looked like a child who’d been told off. You hate that look, the pity staring down at you. But most of all you hate the fact that you’d been rejected before you’d even had a chance to explain. A mutual friend had let the cat out of the bag at a party, and Jungkook being Jungkook had confronted you right away. None of it had been on your own terms.

You’d brushed it off as a small crush, defence mechanisms kicking in, but things had never been the same afterwards. Jungkook had always been good at seeing right through you and he could tell you’d been lying about the depth of your feelings.

You clench your fist. Moving to Seoul had meant burying all this behind you, pretending none of it had happened, forgetting about Jungkook and how madly in love you’d been with him. You’d always been good at compartmentalizing, it’s what made you a good cop. You’d ignored everything for two years. Until now.

Yoongi calls your name, breaking you out of your reverie. You’re at Park Sohee’s home, but you can see from your seat in the car that the main door is ajar. Jungkook is already tossing you a vest which you hastily put on. He pulls out his gun and exits out the car. The three of you follow suit.

“Stand guard at the back, we’ll clear the house.” Taehyung tells you and you and Yoongi nod. The two of you position yourself near the backdoor. After about 10 minutes you hear Jungkook shout. The backdoor opens, and his head peeks out.

“Father missing, but we found his wife,” at your expression, he continues, “Dead, in the bathtub. Overdosed, it seems, in an apparent suicide. She left a note.” He holds up a piece of paper.

“Her husband, a nasty man, is our guy.”

“Where is he?”

“Taehyung is putting a trace on his credit cards and cellphone as we speak.”

You’re reading the note, disgust piling up inside you. Sohee’s father had been an abusive man, and she was planning on running away and going to the police. She sold some of her clothes and other belongs to earn money through the years. The mother, an abused woman herself was complicit in the crime but had been unable to handle the guilt.

“This man killed his daughter and is directly responsible for another woman’s death. We better find him.”

At that moment, Taehyung appears at the door.

“Got him, let’s go.”

“When we said he was amateur at this, I didn’t mean this amateur.” You say, staring at the balding man through the one-sided mirror.

“He panicked when his daughter threatened to go to the police and killed her in a fit of rage. Then he tried to cover it up.”

“Only a psychopath tries to copy other psychopaths.” Yoongi says behind you. Jungkook is in the interrogation room, dark jeans and a dark t-shirt on, looking like he’s going to strangle the living daylights out of Park Sohee’s killer. His arms are bare for the first time since you’ve been back, and you can see the black ink swirling all the way up and disappearing into his sleeve. They’re all little designs, instead of a cohesive piece, as though he got them done separately.

“When are you guys heading out?” Taehyung asks. “We should at least grab a drink before you go.”

“We managed to get in on a train this evening,” Yoongi says apologetically. “Duty calls back home.”

“We’re still going to stop in Daegu for the night to wish Yoongi’s mother a happy birthday.” You tell Taehyung. “Early morning tomorrow, we head back to Seoul.”

“That’s too bad,” Taehyung nudges you playfully. “We barely had time to catch up.” You smile slightly, still staring at Jungkook, who’s coaxing a confession out of the man. You can’t deny that you want to leave Busan as soon as possible, but somewhere deep inside your heart breaks.

Park Sohee’s father confesses not too shortly after that and the case is officially closed. Taehyung suggests a late lunch at a nearby restaurant as a final get-together before you and Yoongi have to leave in the evening. Jungkook doesn’t say much throughout the meal, only offering a distracted smile every now and then.

When the four of you are heading out Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Can we talk?” he asks and you look over at Yoongi who gives you a small smile.

“I’ll meet you at the train station tonight then,” is all he says before pulling Taehyung away towards his car. Jungkook is still looking at you.

“Walk with me,” he says, and you do, falling into step beside him. “I think we need to clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“I broke up with Jangmi,” he starts and you’re genuinely surprised to hear that. “Actually—she broke up with me. It’s been over a year since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say carefully, hating yourself for the selfish happiness that blooms inside you. “What happened?”

“She left me for someone else,” Jungkook says, smiling lightly. He doesn’t look hurt. “Someone who can love her way more than I ever could.”

“That’s so not true,” you argue back. “You loved her.”

“I did,” he agrees, and you try not to wince. It’s harder to hear it than say it. “To an extent. When she left, I didn’t cry. In fact, I was barely upset, and I hated myself even more for that. But then Jangmi pointed something out that made me see things very clearly.”

“What was that?” you whisper. The two of you are standing beside Nakdong river now, cyclists and runners passing by you in the blink of an eye. The air smells fresh and cold, the rain having left behind a chill and bright blue sky.

“She pointed out that I was more upset when you moved away than I was when she told me there was someone else for her.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Oh.” Is all you say.

“When I apologized yesterday, for ruining everything, I meant that I was sorry that I was so confused. My confusion and indecisiveness ruined everything. When everything became clear to me, you were already gone.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” you ask, your voice still hushed.

“I tried,” he is being earnest now. “Your parents had already moved to Seoul, and I contacted Kim Jooyoung from school to see if she knew of your contact information, she was your best friend in college after all. All she had was a cellphone and a landline phone number, but it was worth a shot. When I called, your old roommate picked up and said you’d moved in with some guy. When I tried your cellphone, it was dead.”

“Oh I-I changed my number,” you say, your voice shaky. “I don’t even remember why now—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook’s voice is urgent. “Before today I’d made peace with the fact that you were the one that got away. I could look you up using my connections but until today I was under the assumption you’d moved on. But you’re here now, by some miracle, if I can even call it that given the circumstances, but to me its too big of a coincidence to just pass up.”

You watch him quietly. He’s slightly out of breath and the wind ruffles through his dark hair.

“You never got to answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“N-no I’m not but—” You never get to finish your sentence because Jungkook is leaning in and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders, then your neck and then your cheeks, which he grazes with his thumbs. Once you get over your initial shock, you reach up to tentatively grasp his t-shirt on both sides. He tastes like the hot chocolate he had with his lunch. You feel his tongue tentatively swiping at you and you open yourself up to him. Immediately, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like both, and eternity and a few short seconds, he pulls away. His lips are glistening and swollen and he’s out of breath.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, hands still cupping your cheeks. “Stay here.” Slowly, you pull away, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” you start. “My entire life is in Seoul, Jungkook, I can’t just up and leave—”

“You just up and left Busan,” he says, and you freeze. Studying your sudden shift in expression, he hastily corrects himself, “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”

“Jungkook,” you say, hoping you sound more patient than you feel. “Things are different now; I’m almost settled down in Seoul. I love Busan, I do, but I have no intention of moving back here. My family lives in Seoul now too and my lease with Yoongi isn’t even up, and I love my job, I wouldn’t dream to leave it.” Jungkook abruptly pulls away. “And I won’t ask you to leave Busan, I know how much you love it here.”

“Then what now,” he asks, a small smile on his face. “That’s it? You leave tonight and I never hear from you again?”

“I never said that,” you say softly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” he mumbles, and you giggle. “Do you at least feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do,” you say. “Otherwise I’d have pushed you into the river by now for your advances. Give me some time to think things through alright?”

“But—”

“We have a case back home that needs us, I really do have to go back today. Yoongi’s visiting his family tonight and I’ve made him a promise to come along and they’re expecting me. I won’t go back on that.”

Jungkook is now silent, staring wordlessly at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He answers. There’s no hesitation in his voice. You smile.

Six Months Later

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks. The party is in full swing, loud music almost drowning out his voice. He’s holding a cup of clear liquid in his hands and you doubt it’s water.

“Yeah it’s not a problem, I can watch Holly for the weekend.”

“I’ll drop him off on Friday then,”

“That’s fine! You and Hobi deserve the weekend away.”

“But it’s not a hassle for you? It’s your weekend off too,”

“Yoongi I’m not going to try and convince you to let me take care of your dog in the middle of Hoseok’s welcome-back-bash.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Hoseok slithers in next to you, tossing an arm around your neck.

“Yoongi’s worried about his dog,” you roll your eyes. “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not worried,” Yoongi seethes, making you and Hoseok laugh. “I just don’t want my dog being neglected because you and Jeon are copulating like rabbits all weekend.” Blood rushes to your ears and you grit your teeth.

“Jungkook’s going to be too busy this weekend for that, I promise you.”

“Oh yeah, has he found an apartment yet?” Hoseok asks conversationally.

“Yeah, he’s signing the lease on Friday, and then moving here over the weekend.”

“And he starts work on Monday?” You nod.

“The Organized Crime boys are gonna love him,” Yoongi grins. “Man will fit right in. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since you two arrived.”

“Right here Min,” Jungkook pops out of nowhere, a wide grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi thinks we aren’t responsible enough to take care of his precious dog.”

“I believe the phrase he used was, ‘copulating like rabbits’” Hoseok chimes in unhelpfully. You elbow him in the stomach. Jungkook eyes you, grin fading a little and you recognize the dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Well he’s not wrong—” he starts, but is met by loud interruptions from you, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Too much information!” Yoongi yells, downing his drink. “You two are disgusting! Lets go Hobi.”

Jungkook comes up to you, still grinning slyly and you automatically slip your arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, looking up at him. Jungkook has an arm around your shoulder as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Bit too late to ask me that, don’t you think babe?” You pinch his waist and he yells out loud. “I didn’t move to Seoul for you, I moved here for the job.”

“Ha. Ha,” you roll your eyes, but a part of you knows it’s partially true anyway. Long distance between Busan and Seoul hadn’t treated you too badly and things had been going surprisingly well. You were a good five months into your newfound relationship when there had been a sudden opening in the Organized Crime unit, a real step-up for Jungkook’s career. Jungkook had told you once he’d applied for the job that he’d have applied anyway regardless if you were in the picture or not, and you appreciated his honesty. Both of you had always been the type to put your careers first, but you couldn’t believe your luck that things had just fallen into place like this. You’re happy for him.

“Although having you here is a pretty sweet bonus,” Jungkook adds, making you smile. The two of you stand there in silence, arm-in-arm, enjoying the celebrations from afar.

#kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fluff #jungkook au #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts au #jungkook #writings #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook scenario #jjk

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yanderedbdimagines · 3 years

Note

How about a NSFW scenario where a yandere Plague keeps a male reader to satisfy her craving for physical affection. (I love your writing! Thank you for your time)

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

Thank you! I’m glad that you like my work so far! :D And no problem at all! Thank you for taking your time to post a request instead.

I did make it that the male reader’s her s/o here or else it’d pretty much go in against one of my own rules. In other words, he’s willing. It isn’t as NSFW as you probably would have liked, though... But the hints are there.

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

WARNING: NSFW-ish below!

The Plague

Adiris is the oldest among the Entity’s many pawns and she’s done a great deal of things for the spider-like god ever since she was taken by the black mists.

With untattered loyalty and devotion throughout many, many years, she managed to gain an unbreakable bond with it. She receives favors other killers could only dream of and her items and offerings are often of good quality at the very least.

But she eventually met you. Throughout her lifetime, she has seen lots of survivors and killers come and go. Through them, she’s seen how time, culture, language and scientific advancements moved on…

How these… worlds outside of this realm leaves everything here in the dust. How it leaves her in the dust…

You are a survivor from a modern era. A man who seemingly acquired his thrills through exciting trips and adventures in foreign countries whenever you had the time and money for it.

You intrigued her. Intrigued her enough to force her to jump through loops for you in order to capture your attention. And after some trial and error, all in the lapse of a few months, she somehow succeeded.

The soft moans you drag from her mouth are obscene and it only motivates you to continue as you delicately run your fingers over the patches of skin which are least affected by the terrible disease.

You feel the muscles pulsate from underneath your touch as you caress a sensitive spot at the very base of her upper leg, a small smirk already tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Touch starved,” you muse, the smirk only widening ever so slightly in size as her good eye glances at you from underneath her lashes. She still can’t fully understand you yet, but that’s what makes it all the more adorable as puzzlement breaks through the euphoria that’s currently portraying on her entire face.

One of the Entity’s pawns… Reduced to mush from underneath your fingertips…

There’s a false sense of power in that. Even if it’s short-lived during these very rare moments. It’s the exact same feeling which ended up roping you in and fastening you into place besides the former High Priestess of Babylon. The feeling that you’re in control. Control which could turn on you at any second and in any other possible way…

Still, certain benefits still keeps you coming back for more, even though these acts that concurred aren’t exactly based on love. They are more so based on cheap pleasure and a futile escape from the reality which is the Fog.

She believes otherwise. It has to be adoration which has been keeping you by her side for so long, right?

To her, you’re unpredictable. But as long as these moments keep on coming, she doesn’t care in the slightest that you are.

She gasps loudly as your hands run upward before stopping al so suddenly, a frown plastering itself upon your face. A nasty scar close to her private parts has reopened recently…

She notices what your attention’s been turned to before her own face drops…

She wants to apologize to you. Apologize for the state of her body. She tries to care for it as best as she can with the washcloth, clean water and some mysterious medicine(antibiotics) you had given her. But in the Fog, it seems to have little to no effect at all lately. It did at the very beginning… But it seems the Entity disapproves of whatever you were trying to do and intervened in some way.

She opens her mouth in order to tell you that she’s sorry in the mother tongue that you speak, but a moan escapes her as your hands suddenly caress her clothed chest instead.

She is well aware that it’s difficult for you to physically advance on her any further at the moment. Even within the realm of the Entity, it’s unknown if the plague could affect you or not if you’d remain in contact with her for even a second too long. Therefore, a level of caution is strongly advised and she’s too far in to ever let her own desires jeopardize your good health.

All in all, this strange dance of necessity for your love and attention…

It’s her precious gift…

But it’s also her deepest curse…

#dbd #dead by daylight #yandere #plague #reader #insert #dbd x reader #adiris

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madmythologist · 3 years

Text

Drink Play Pt. 1 (Vore Warning)

“Is it him again?” One asked.

“Yep, same kid,” another replied.

“Well, who wants to host him today?” The first questioned.

“I’ll do it,” a third answered without a beat passing the owner of the casual voice’s lips. A woman in the middle of securing a disposable frill beneath her short skirt, a thin mesh laced with herbs and spices.

“Aren’t you clocking out in… what, fifteen minutes?” The second speaker cocked her head.

“Yeah,” the volunteer nodded, “I’ll just see if he’ll take me home.” She shrugged, pointing to the original subject of the conversation to indicate who she was referring too. Said subject was a young man standing in line, keeping his eyes down, hand holding the opposing arm and obviously looking to make himself as unnoticed as possible. A funny thought, his soon-to-be-hostess mused, seeing as he was supposed to be a predator.

“Are you sure?” The first speaker asked, looking at her cautiously.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” the hostess assured her with a dismissive wave of her hand.

A moment of pause followed that. “Alright, I’ll take care of your punches.” The woman, who was apparently the volunteer’s manager, assured her.

The young man, a regular at the cafe, went about his usual order. One camomile tea with one host. It was so routine by this point that the man’s hostess already put on the appropriately flavored clothing beforehand. It took no time at all, a simple task of pouring the carefully measured hot water into a teacup and his hostess vaulting over the rim in a practiced motion.

Effortlessly, the young woman came to rest on a seat of glass- a shelf protruding from the inside of the cup designed for someone her size to sit on. Her back arched a moment as her skin adjusted to the practical hottub she hopped into. She was used to the sensation, but it always sent a wave of heat through her frame no matter how many times. Steam floated about the surface as the herbs embedded in her clothes began to tinge the water a pollen yellow.

With that, she looked up to see her last customer of the night. Not that he was looking at her. No, he was looking at the handle like it was the most curious of features in the world. Not the person scarcely the size of his own finger sitting in his cup, but the fact the cup was left-handed. There was but a second his eyes glanced over her, immediately flicking to a small detail of the saucer her makeshift tub was resting on the moment he realized she was actually looking back. He towered over her like a skyscraper, stretching innumerable feet into the air, even with her being on a countertop. How was it that he was the nervous one?

“Thank you for your time.” Even with his massive, booming voice, it still came out as a tepid, stuttering utterance. Then again, that was all she’d ever heard out of him. Quiet, timid words. The statement itself was a simple courtesy that seemed to pop up with these establishments, a small thanks to the host for their time and company.

“No problem, big guy.” She replied casually, leaning back into the curve of the cup as he nodded, lifting his hands to the small dish and glass.

Being lifted was far from a new sensation, enough so that she could note the subtleties, rather than focusing on bracing herself. For example, this man’s hands were shaking. Not unbearable, but the slight vibrations alongside the ripples rolling to the center of the water was a dead give away. The trip was short, of course, the gentle- if not jittery swaying carrying her to one of the empty tables near the corner of the building. Same spot, every time.

An audible “klink” signaled that she was back on relatively solid ground. A tabletop- but solid ground as far as she was concerned. Her customer sat down a second after, back to the corner and facing the rest of the room. He looked far from relaxed, but at least didn’t have his hands trembling now that he wasn’t holding her. While he got situated, the girl simply ran her hands through the water, stirring the tea part of the drink around and getting some more of her own flavor mixed in. That was what she was doing sitting in a giant’s cup, after all.

This young man, despite his recluce demeanor, was supposed to be a predator. Her predator. Thus he, and giants like him needed to sate a craving of theirs long since ingrained into their instincts. And a person like hers flavor steeped into a drink seems to suffice, if drunk often enough.

The first few minutes of this interaction were awkward, to say the least. The man didn’t say much of anything beyond a “pardon” to warn that he was lifting the glass, and a “sorry” upon finishing with that sip. She pondered, for a moment, how to break the silence. She had decided to jump into this position to get to know this giant, after all.

“Pardon,” he uttered for the fourth time or so, prompting a smirk as the repeated motion of his left hand lifting the glass was carried out. Once again he wasn’t looking at her, like he was ashamed of this whole thing, couldn’t look at her outside of his peripherals. So, with a simple movement she decided to fix that.

Once brought before the awaiting maw that barely dared to open even a crack to let the warm liquid pass between his lips, his hostess simply let herself fall forward. Easily she caught herself on her hands, laying along the wall of the cup, water rushing past as she peered into his mouth like she was looking under a bed. He, however, didn’t take this so casually, shoulders hiking up and lips pursing shut as he tried not to jump.

“A-are you alright?” The first time she’d ever heard his voice with any air of urgency, a hissed whisper as he tilted the cup back a bit. She simply smiled at her accomplishment, those wide eyes nearly crossing to focus entirely on her minute readjustment.

“I’m fine, just wanted a closer look.” She offered coyly, prompting a raised brow from the young predator as his face was spattered red.

“Wha… what do you mean?” He asked, eyes only daring to glance away this time to make sure no one else was watching. Then they were right back on the occupant of his drink.

“I wanted a better look in your mouth. Go ahead and drink, I won’t slip.” She offered, not making any move to get back to her seat. He just looked at her for seconds that felt like minutes, instinctively wetting his lips as his mouth suddenly felt dryer than before he’d just taken a drink.

“I don’t… I can’t-” he stuttered.

“I promise,” she interrupted, “it will be fine.” He swallowed dryly, eyes scanning the room once again.

“If,” he paused, eyes landing back on her. “If you’re sure.”

A simple nod was all she offered in response, butterflies fluttering in her stomach this time as she felt the cup shift, water sloshing gently over and around her. The faintest tremble rocked her spot, the first time since he only needed to use his left hand. Just like before, the rim rested on his lower lip, the upper separating to let a crevice open up before her. A sigh from the goliath’s nose passed by her as he finally tipped the cup back. Water began trying to pull her into that warm abyss. She wasn’t sure she would have minded that, but she did make a promise. Thus she pressed her hands into the glass, doing her best to look inside while her subject tried not to blush harder. That attempt, however, went out the window when he felt miniscule, curious fingers rest on his upper lip. A chill ran up his spine, sparking something euphoric in the back of his mind. And to his surprise, he didn’t pull away.

“Open up.” She breathed, taking a turn of whispering while she gently pushed his lip up. Another sigh, this one shuddering as it passed his lips and fogged the glass all around her. Tentatively he followed instruction, lip twitching as he allowed her a better look into the cavern of velvet and ivory. It was dark, warm, and damp. A lively muscle of pink gingerly guiding the tea to the back of his throat, massive teeth framing it with their interlocking counterparts hanging overhead. Curious as those were, her eyes wandered back to his throat, ring of muscle opening briefly to close once again and gulp down the liquid laced with her flavor.

Slowly, the tinted water came to a stand-still, cup tilting back, and fingers sliding off the sensitive skin of the giant. She wasn’t sure which of them were more speechless from the exchange, both looking at one another and nothing else for a moment.

“Good?” He asked, not bothering to lower the glass this time. Inches from his face she remained, finally pushing off the rim and settling back into her seat that was above the water level now. Even with the surface being warm from the drink, compared to the threshold she was just on the precipice of, she had to fight the urge to shiver.

“Good?” He repeated tentatively, this time getting her to look up into the massive pools of his eyes.

I could get a better look.

“Do you like this stuff?” She dodged the question, kicking her feet lightly in the water to show what she was asking about. “You get it everytime.”

“I, uh… not exactly.” He admitted, brow raising questioningly again. “I just get it because…” he trailed off.

“Cause it’s supposed to be calming, right?” She guessed, “The camomile?” He nodded.

“Not… for you, though?” She continued, sounding more like an accusation than a question.

“Ah,” he smiled sheepishly, “no. Just don’t want… you, for example, to be nervous.” It was about what she expected, it was clear as day this guy didn’t express these urges of his easily, nor did he seem to be proud of them.

The girl took all of this in, alongside the fact the man was left handed and simply never bothered correcting the fact he was always given the wrong handed cup, and two simple questions began to form in her mind. Both of which, she was quite sure she knew the answers to.

“Have you ever…” She trailed off, her own nerves getting the better of her. Taking the opportunity of heat rising to her cheeks, she took the opportunity to once again play coy.

“Have you ever actually… sated that craving of yours? Properly- I mean.” She mused, damp-tipped hair shifting as she cocked her head. The question, alongside the consciously cute body language made the shy man avert his eyes downward once again, face shading darker once more as his lips pressed into a strained line.

“I-I ah- no,” He stuttered, fingers trembling on the delicate handle, “no I haven’t.” She nodded thoughtfully, fully expecting that answer and making sure to avoid a strong reaction. After all, she knew that if that question wracked his nerves that badly, this next one she was going to have to be very careful with.

That train of thought was interrupted when her seat began to shift once again, lifting closer to that ashamed expression as he took an unconscious sip to try and calm his nerves. With a small smile, she shifted back off of her seat, coming to rest sitting in the curve of the cup, legs splayed out to her side as she simply watched this everyday action on a scale and angle that no one her customer’s size could dream of seeing. She bit back a giggle at the realization his mouth was open just a hair more than when he first started drinking. She’d gotten somewhere.

“And, would you like to?” She asked as casually as she could manage, watching his widen for but a second before hardening harshly as he held back his reaction. That was, until he went stock still, feeling that miniscule hand placed firmly on the cupid’s bow of his upper lip.

“Easy,” she crooned, “I can help, if you’d like.” She breathed, hand tracing down and beneath his lip, fingers massaging into the tepid tip of his tongue, fascinated by the sight of his eyelids fluttering at the sensation.

“I’m off for the evening, so I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to walk me home.” She explained with mocking formality, retracting her hand to rest in her lap.

“Will a detour or two, of course.” She added, a sly wink looking up to those massive eyes of his, baring something she’d never seen in him before. Something exciting, something that set her nerves on end and a shiver up her spine.

Hunger.

#safe vore #soft vore #implied vore #vore writing #gt #Giant/tiny #GT writing #myth posts

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yeochikin · 3 years

Text

your wish. | k. hongjoong

a/n: happy birthday to kim hongjoong, thank you so much for all of your hardwork and efforts! we love you so much ✨💖

word count: 1.1k

main focus: kim hongjoong x fem. reader

warning(s): none!

with both arms stretched above his head, kim hongjoong released a low groan as soon as he felt the tight knots in his lower back loosen up due to the hours of sitting all hunched in front of his laptop and his notebook filled with scribbles of lyrics and ideas whenever some would come to mind. his irises trained over to the clock hanging on the wall briefly, wondering just how many hours he had already spent inside his studio.

had he not checked the time he wouldn’t even realised that he had spent all afternoon stuck inside the studio, and now it was already the early hours into the evening.

turning back to his laptop, hongjoong made sure to save his progress for the day. a little break surely won’t hurt. hongjoong also made sure to double check each time he saved his work, before gathering his notes to neatly tuck them into his bag.

it was time to go home.

it was time to go where he knew his love was waiting for his arrival. with the way her eyes held a certain cheekiness in them as she kissed him goodbye during the morning earlier when he left for the company, hongjoong knew that something was up in his lover’s sleeve. what it could possibly be, he had no idea whatsoever.

and that curiosity fogged his mind throughout the whole day managed to keep him on his toes ever since he stepped out of their little home as if thinking a certain beloved would walk in any time. though the curiosity wasn’t all that bad, it managed to give him a little inspiration along the way.

but the gnawing feeling in his mind will soon go away if he stepped through the doors of their humble abode. he was, and still is, thankful that the trip back home wasn’t that long, so hongjoong was hopeful that he hadn’t been making her wait for his arrival for too long, no matter how many times he was greeted with his lover throwing her arms around his neck, her own way of welcoming him home, each time he walked through the door without failing to do so.

it was no wonder hongjoong felt a little confused for not receiving the action as soon as he closed the door to their home behind him. what’s adding the fuel to his confusion would be how he was greeted by darkness.

“little muse? i’m home.” he called out, walking in further into the house after removing his shoes.

his hands blindly reached out, caressing the wall in search for the light switch, promptly switching them on as soon as he found them. his eyes squinted ever so slightly from the sudden brightness flashing in his eyes, blinking them rapidly in order to get used to the lights. however, hongjoong’s shoulder flinched when he heard a sudden ‘pop’ going off.

“happy birthday, my heart!” came a familiar voice reaching his ears.

there, standing in the middle of their living room, stood his beloved with a joyful beam hanging over her brims, hands holding onto what seems to be a party popper. that would have to explain the loud sound he had heard earlier. his wide eyes trained down from her to the little coffee table in front of their television, filled with his favourite dishes. and in the middle of it all, was a little cake with a few candles being stuck on.

he must have been so busy working many hours in his studio that he had forgotten his own birthday.

to say that hongjoong was touched would be an understatement, for how he felt was absolutely unexplainable in his own words. but he knew that one thing was certain:

she never fails to make him fall in love with all the little things she did for him, over and over again.

“i’m sorry it is nothing special, my heart. but i hope that this will-”

without even letting her finish her sentence, hongjoong immediately cut her off by walking up to him and like how she would always greet him home, the male wrapped his arms tightly around the young woman’s frame, his lips planting fleeting kisses all over her face as he spoke word after word.

“you. are. so. endearing.”

the giggles she let out along with her lips trying so hard to catch all of the kisses were enough to set his heart rate to pick up its pace, it was only from that thought alone would already let hongjoong know that he is undeniably smitten over his lover, his little muse.

he felt her hands gently tapping both of his shoulder blades for attention, pulling his face away to look down, a soft smile playing over his lips as his eyes took note of how her cheeks were tinted a faint crimson, no doubt flustered at the sudden act of affection she had received from the male.

“i promise we can get to cuddling later, but for now, let’s eat! i know how hungry you could get after a day of schedules.” hongjoong heard her say, him sending a sheepish smile as if he was a child being caught sticking his into the jar of cookies.

“how you know that, i would never know.” he retorted, to which the young woman simply scrunched her nose mockingly in return.

and with that, the both of them started to dig in, hongjoong playfully making exaggerated remarks with every spoonful of food being fed, loving to see how his lover would laugh and gently push his shoulder upon receiving his reactions. the two spent a few more lingering moments, just savouring the dishes, and enjoying each other’s company.

before they knew it, it was time for her to light the candles on the cake, giving hongjoong a plastic cake knife before clapping her hands to sing the familiar tune he heard. a shy smile made its way on his features, hands clapping along to his lover’s tune.

“don’t forget to make a wish, my heart.” she reminded him, sitting back down next to him.

she watched as her beloved clasped his hands together, eyelids fluttering shut as a few seconds of silence embraced the two. soon after, hongjoong leaned in to blow out the candles, the other cheering as he did so.

“what did you wish for?” he heard her ask, turning in his place on the couch to grab her hand into his own, fingers interlacing with each other’s.

“it’s…” he leaned in, lips close to his ear while she leaned in to listen to whatever he was about to say next.

“a secret.” he kissed her cheek and pulled back swiftly before his lover could retaliate with a gentle smack on his shoulder, laughing at the sight of her playful glare.

why would he need a wish when he was completely content with what he has now? what more could he possibly ask for? sure, he may have encountered the number of times where he would be stuck in a rut at times. but hongjoong knew, he has the people around him who will give him all of the support he needed.

especially from her, his little muse.

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eternaltm · 2 years

Note

Are you at all concerned you are a rebound god for lucifer, since the first one abandoned him? His daddy issues may just be showing.

ask my muse prying questions about relationships. || accepting. someone just pushed the nono button in regards to @mcrningstar.

there is a moment where honest anger flares --- where the scar on his forehead seems to hurt worse than when he received it. hands clench into fists at his sides and he breathes slowly through his nose, jaw tight. a light flickers and the wine in his glass bubbles but it doesn’t last. no. it comes and it goes. an ugly thing, his own relationship with the god in question --- but colin finds an eerie calm in this insult, chin lifting with defiance not unlike lucifer’s own. learned behavior. mirroring --- a sign of affection, even now without him here. colin turns. too calm. it’s worse when he’s like this, when his voice is even. it’s worse when his head is free of fog, when he speaks gospel.

“the only concerns i have in regards to lucifer and his father are ones involving my insistent desire to rip him from the clouds with my own teeth for how he’s treated him. my love for lucifer has no comparison, especially against the one who cast him out.” a bitter taste in his mouth, he moves to pull wine from the glass --- to exhale, to search his heart for words rather than a wish to break the glass in his fist. it’s difficult. but he manages. “rebound.” a word he’s decided he hates. “how magnificently you’ve managed to belittle what we’ve become. a rebound? do you really think he would use me for anything --- or that i would not fall to my knees, willing, if he ever chose to do so? 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐝.” bold. four words he’s never spoken aloud. “and yet i stand in awe at the way lucifer makes me feel. at what i would be willing to do, if he so much as hinted at anything. it takes real work to not create a universe in which he is loved in the way he deserves --- it takes everything in me to not burn the tongues out of those who would demean what was a great betrayal by using words like ‘daddy issues.’ i’ll let you keep it so you can use it to warn others about speaking this way in my presence. i’ll let you keep it because i, a rebound, am better than the original source of pain that he will heal from.”

#(sits here)

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

The Assasin and the Caretaker Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Warnings: car crash, stitching wounds, gunshots, starvation, injury description, death treat(non verbal) and death mention, alcohol

Caretaker felt a lurch as Assasin suddenly made a sharp U-turn right in the dead center of the highway. Car horns blared and a small pileup formed in the other lane. Caretaker peeked out the window and saw that the SUV was amongst the pileup. They breathed a sigh of relief.

"You 'kay back there?" Assasin asked quickly.

"Fine!" Caretaker said back and turned their attention back to Villain. Gosh, they looked horrible with pale, nearly transparent, skin and sunken in eyes. Like a corpse, Caretaker realized. Maybe they were. Maybe they were in that stage between life and death. Caretaker's breath hitched in their throat. This was their fault. If they did not turn Villain in, they would've healed just fine. It would've taken a month at most to recover. But now? Now it would take several months, even years to fully recover. The physical recovery would be brutal and the mental recovery? Caretaker's brow creased. Who knows what Supervillain did to them. Their body wounds could only show so much...

Caretaker did not realize that their hand was softly holding Villain's lifeless one until they felt a weak pressure on it.

"V-villain?" Caretaker murmured and reached their free hand over to feel for a pulse. It was faint, but there and steady.

"Mm," Villain mumbled. Their face twitched and they squirmed weakly around.

"What's going on back there?" Assasin asked, their voice tense.

"Villain is waking up, I think," Caretaker replied and put a tentative hand out to steady Villain.

"No, no, no, no..." Villain murmured, barely above a whisper as they started struggling even stronger. Some of their barely healed wounds begun to bled.

"Hey, hey," Caretaker soothed. They reached over for their first aid kit and grabbed a cloth and gauze pad. Softly, they dabbed at the trickles of blood.

"Wha-wha you," Villain breathed hoarsely. Caretaker's gaze shot to Villain's sickly face. Their eyes were wide open and staring at Caretaker in fear.

Caretaker stopped what they were doing and met Villain's gaze. They hoped their eyes showed kindness, or mercy, anything. Anything that would make Villain believe that they were on their side. That it wasn't their fault. But it is my fault, Caretaker reminded themselves bluntly.

It must've been something in their demeanor or eyes because Villain jerked their head upwards so that their neck was arched. Their chest heaved as fear settled. Caretaker sighed.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Caretaker whispered and rubbed Villain's shoulder which only caused them to erupt into a terrified frenzy.

The sudden fast movement seemed to exhaust Villain. They slumped back onto the floor of the car, silent and staring upwards. Caretaker gently lifted their head and readjusted it to relieve the tension.

"Why-" Villain stopped, opening and closing their mouth as if they had more to say but couldn't get it out. Their hand slowly went to their bruised throat. The second their fingers brushed against the injured skin, they gasped and white electricity shot out of their hands.

"Villain!" Caretaker screeched. They froze. What do they do? They had no magic whatsoever to stop the flood of power.

"Assasin!" Caretaker yelled next. "They are-"

"I know, I know!" Assasin yelled back. "Grab their wrists, make sure not to get in the way of the electricity, and press them into their body. Okay? I'ma pull over..."

Caretaker, without hesitation, carefully grabbed Villain's wrists (which brought more struggling). They slid their hands down to the elbows and pressed them into Villain's chest.

A few scary seconds ticked by. Caretaker felt a strange tingling feeling through their veins, but they ignored it. Soon, Villain's stressed struggles ceased and their body went lax. Caretaker slowly let go off their arms, noting the white and red pattern that their fingers left.

Villain sniffled. "I wanna... wanna..." their voice trailed off as their head lolled to the side. "I... Hero..."

"Hero is... okay," Caretaker assured them, internally punishing themselves for lying. But it was for their own good. If they found out that Hero was so concussed that they were acting like a child... Caretaker didn't want to have to deal with that.

"Supervillain," Villain whispered, their eyes watery. "Don't..."

Caretaker furrowed their forehead and places the back of their head on Villain's forhead. Warm, but not hot enough to be a fever.

The back door suddenly opened. Caretaker didn't even realize that they parked.

"Hand them to me," Assasin said, half-way leaning into the car. Caretaker picked up Villain's body and gave them to the waiting Assasin.

"Hmm thanks," Assasin said. Suddenly their hand shot to their belt and they revealed a gun.

Caretaker swore their heart stopped beating for a second or two. Their eyes took in the situation. Assasin had Villain and was keeping Caretaker away with a gun. A gun, Caretaker said to themselves. They slowly raised their hands.

"I can't trust anyone," Assasin explained. Their voice was taut with pride and releif. But there was something else, regret maybe? Caretaker wanted to sink into the ground. Gosh, they felt betrayed. How could Assasin do this? Without them, they wouldn't have Villain in their evil, manipulating grasp to begin with. They wanted to retort, say something nasty, but their voice only croaked.

"Then why?" Caretaker managed, their voice shaky. A single motion of Assasin's finger and they would be dead. That wasn't really a nice thought...

"I'm sorry," Assasin said, with something in their tone. Caretaker just hoped it was sincerity.

And they pressed the trigger.

Three months earlier:

Assasin watched the rebels in fear. There were seven of them sitting around a fire, drinking alcohol to their heart's content.

"You know the rules Assasin," Supervillain's voice boomed in their ears. "You get rid of who I tell, when I want it, and without any question."

"Yes," Assasin whispered out loud.

"Then why won't you do it?" Supervillain asked next.

"That's my business," Assasin had answered. Why did they ever think they could sass Supervillain? Why couldn't they be mature and hold their tongue? Why did things have to be this way?

Assasin slammed the ground a little to loudly, causing the rebels to look their direction. They froze. It was now or never.

Assasin stepped out of their hiding spot and faced the rebels, gun in hand.

"Who are you?" One of them asked, possibly the leader. He had a black patch over his right eye that completed his pirate look of a long gray beard and thick hair to top it with. His face was unnaturally tanned compared to his pale hands.

"Put your hands up!" Assasin ordered. It sounded ridiculous, given the circumstances. The rebels must've thought so too because they laughed.

"You aren't the only one with a gun, Assasin," the leader spat. In one fluid motion, Assasin was on the ground with a bleeding torso.

"Hmph," Pirate-guy loomed over Assasin's fallen figure. "Pity..."

"Leave," Assasin mustered all their strength and aimed it at Pirate-guy. They felt themselves making their way into the guys head, but it was quickly blocked by an experienced person's will.

Pirate-guy's face contorted into something like... realization? Assasin couldn't tell through the fog of pain.

"Healer!" Pirate-guy yelled suddenly. Healer? Assasin asked themselves. Healer, like a doctor? Don't hope yet Assasin, don't bring your hopes up yet...

Suddenly, a woman was looming over them now. This time, the rebel was pressing against their stomach. Assasin tensed, waiting for the pain, but only gentleness came.

Assasin watched as blue light streamed from the lady's hands and into the gunshot wound. They squirmed and bit back a scream as the ripped flesh melted itself back together.

"Gah, stop," Assasin gasped the same second that the lady stopped her magic.

Assasin looked down and saw that the bleeding out wound was now a white scar. They looked up in confusion at the lady and Pirate-guy.

"You are one of us," the lady said, slightly breathless.

"I'm not a rebel," Assasin pointed out, immediately regretting it. They flinched, awaiting the next damage inflicting blow. They thought of the last time they sassed someone. It cost them a week being drugged with a power suppressor and locked in a frigid cell.

"Not yet," Pirate-guy mused and helped Assasin to their feet.

The day before the rescue:

The lady, Healer, stood in front of Assasin with Pirate-guy by her side.

"Bring this Villain to me," Healer ordered. Assasin nodded and turned around ready to break both Villain and Hero out of Supervillain's torture center.

"Oh yeah, and Assasin?" Pirate-guy spoke up.

"Yes?"

"Just Villain. No one else."

That's fine, Assasin thought. That's why I have Caretaker.

"Because," Healer said, repeating her infamous quote, "Don't trust anyone."

Don't trust anyone non-magical.

#villain whumpee #betrayed #caretaker #injured hero #injured villain #gun tw

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thegeneralguy · 3 years

Text

The Champion of Olympus - Prologue

This is the first series I´ve ever worked on. I remember I saw a post about the gift of the gods from @absqrst in the past, so I worked a bit around that general idea. It´s gonna be long, but I hope the patience makes it worth your while. I want to clarify all the characters in the stories are adults.

The flaming chariot sped over the clouds as thunder roared through the night sky. The vessel of the sun had its usual flames dimmed, but there was no doubt who was commanding it.

“He must be really mad to be throwing such a tantrum.”

Said Apollo to himself as he drove through the dark clouds. He was in the middle of a particularly erotic composing session with Terpsichore, muse of music, when the message from his father blasted through the roof of the mansion and engraved the urgent message on the floor. His presence was being requested for an extraordinary session of the twelve. Apollo couldn´t even remember the last time he saw his family together, but it usually meant bad news for everyone.

The last time his father and Poseidon argued, a massive tidal wave ravaged the land of the rising sun down on earth. The celestial plane wasn´t always indifferent towards mortal matters, and Apollo made sure to keep inspiring those beautiful human minds in order to create both beauty and a form of expression that eased up tension in difficult times. The fact that his family was meeting again could only mean disaster, both for mortals and for gods.

The sky grew increasingly stormy the more the chariot approached the thunder palace. Zeus´s residence was directly on top of Mytikas peak in Mount Olympus. The home of the gods was on an entirely different plane than earth, but vaster and richer. It existed both parallel to the terrestrial plane, but above it in hierarchy, and was ruled by the will of the deities that inhabited it. Each Olympian had its dominion, but Zeus ruled above all.

The chariot slowed down as the imposing marble columns of the palace became visible. It stopped on one of the gardens, and Apollo rushed to the nearest entrance heading to the meeting. The door to the throne room was guarded by celestial Sentinels, the latest invention from his brother Hephaestus. The automatons had the shape of the pinnacle of the masculine physique and were made of gold with a tiny bit of ichor, the blood of the gods. They served mainly as guardians, although he had made use of a couple of them for more personal matters, like an extra boost for the sexual soirees he usually hosted.

Apollo could hear the heated discussion from outside the room. The Sentinels opened the doors and suddenly twelve pairs of eyes were instantly focused on him.

“Apollo. So glad you decided to grace us with your presence. Take a seat.”

Said Zeus with a sour scowl. He was indeed the last one to arrive. Even Hades was there, so it must be serious. He took his seat next to his brother Dionysius, who gave him a knowing look.

“How many were there this time?”

Asked Dionysius with a cheeky smile. Apollo remained with his sight to the center of the room, trying his best to ignore the provocations of his brother.

“Come on I´m dying for a little excitement. Things have been rather grim around here, and I´m dying for a little spark of *hic* entertainment.”

Apollo gave his brother an irritated look. The God of wine was looking as disheveled as ever. His muscular body was partially covered by a glowing white cloak, with some grape vines hanging from his belt and decorating one side of his head. He was holding his everlasting wine cup with one hand, while his face rested on the other.

“I was with Terpsichore. We were looking for some inspiration.”

“Right, right. Maybe next time I can join you both. I could use some inspiration too you know. Remember the parties we used to throw with the muses and the nymphs? I´m pretty sure you got more inspiration than you bargained for back then…”

A lightning bolt stroke right before Dionysus, who sighed and diverted his attention to Zeus.

“I apologize father. Please do continue to illustrate us with your crucial monologue.”

He said disinterested as he took a big swig from his golden wine cup.

“This is no joke Dionysus. It is the first time since the Titanomachy that we´ve faced a situation like this.”

Apollo had heard legends about the epic war against the titans, an event that changed the course of the world. His aunts and uncles fought alongside Zeus for ten years in order to dethrone Cronus and other titans loyal to the Golden Age regime. He tried his best to focus on the near future, but he couldn´t get past the next few days. He felt like a thick fog over him interrupting his vision of the future. It was unusual for the god the sun to have his gift of prophecy clouded, specially in an event of such magnitude like his father was describing. His curiosity started to turn into genuine worry, and he focused his attention on Zeus once again.

“The Fates contacted me recently with news from the underworld. It seems that the king of the monsters found a way to break through the veil separating his prison in Tartarus from the rest of the infernal plane.”

“That’s impossible. The abyss in Tartarus is inescapable. Not even Typhon is capable of gathering enough power.”

Said Poseidon skeptically whilst stroking his magnificent beard.

“It is a different kind of problem brother. Typhon is trying to seep some of his energy into the terrestrial plane. We´ve grown disconnected from humanity in the last century, and Typhon is trying to take advantage so he can gain some adepts of his own in order to amass divine energy to break free. I already consulted with Hades, and it seems a breach in Tartarus´s security is not impossible.”

“But what would that mean for us father? We still have enough divine power to launch a counterattack if he does manage to escape, we will be ready for battle.”

Said the mighty Ares. The god of war was known for taking aggressive decisions that lead to confrontation. His mighty physique was a testament for his strength and his prowess in combat.

“Not if he gains some divinity himself. The monster already possesses enough strength on his own to blow up half of Olympus. If he acquires some power from human devotion, not even I will be able to stop him.”

It wasn´t fitting of Zeus to admit inadequacy of any kind, and Apollo knew it. He grew only increasingly uncomfortable imagining the possible outcomes of a monster invasion. In any scenario, Earth would face the biggest catastrophe.

“What do you suggest we do now father? Humanity isn´t what it used to be. The facilitated communication of humans has bred doubt and paranoia. It won´t be hard for Typhon to appeal to humanity´s loss of self in order to succeed.”

Said Athena who out of her siblings seemed the most invested in the problem at hand. Hades who had been cautiously quiet listening to the conversation raised from his seat to answer the wisdom goddesses’ question.

“It seems we got time on our side, my honorable niece. Infusing earth with energy direct from Tartarus will take time. And the first thing Typhon will try to gain are champions. Without some avatars directly on earth he is still powerless”

“Don´t be ridiculous Hades. There hasn´t been a champion on earth since ancient times. Let alone a hellish spawn from the original monster himself.”

Exclaimed Poseidon with a booming laugh whilst slamming his gigantic trident on the floor.

“Hades is right brother. A champion serving as a recruiter is the only way of gaining direct adoration. The negative energy coming from Typhon will take care of the rest. It´s only fair we do the same.”

Zeus´ stern face showed a glimpse of amusement, his muscular body almost twitching with excitement.

“It is time we choose a new Champion of Olympus.”

Everyone went completely quiet for a second. The incredulous eyes of the twelve Olympians were staring at the god of thunder. Then the room was immediately filled with chatter and discussion. Apollo looked around as his brothers and sisters talked aggressively between themselves. The idea of gifting divinity to a mortal hasn´t been touched in eons, so it was only natural for the godly unrest to take place. The ritual was long, complex and it required the cooperation of all the Olympians.

“But why father? What makes you think a new champion will do anything to stop the monster from breaking out? Last time we tried to make one divinity rejected him.”

Said Ares slamming his powerful fist on the armrest. The main reason the gods didn´t get celestial conduits on the terrestrial plane was because few humans were eligible for the gift. And even after getting one who was compatible with divinity, all Olympians had to agree on the candidate, and there was always someone who chose differently. If the will of one god was against the chosen one, the ritual backfired and the person would be consumed by the divine power.

“A champion will help us connect with humans again. Times have changed, and we won´t be able to amass enough power to retaliate against Typhon if we don´t gain adoration again. Besides, we are going to do things differently this time. Each of you will have the possibility of choosing one eligible candidate. Afterwards we will put the chosen ones through three heroic tests. The one that manages to complete the tasks will get our blessing, and so divinity will be achieved. If we all agree on these terms, we won´t kill the candidate during the sacred ritual. And we will be sure the best choice was taken.”

“It seems you already had this planned out brother.”

Said Poseidon in a slightly suspicious tone. It wasn´t unusual for his brother to come up with grandiose plans that required thorough cleaning afterwards. The god of the sea laid back his heavily muscled back on the chair and wondered about what Zeus was really planning.

“This is madness father. And even if the plan worked, we are not sure divinity won´t corrupt the champion. It has happened before. And I´m sure some of us won´t have Olympus´ best interest in mind when choosing a candidate.”

Said Athena whilst eying the god of wine, who was in-between drinking and undressing the Sentinels with his eyes.

“Of course, it would be you who started judgement sister. Perhaps if you sought interaction with other one than your precious little owl, you wouldn´t be practically embodying neurosis instead of wisdom.”

Said Aphrodite clearly in odds with her sister´s self-perceived moral high ground.

The room exploded in a cacophony of displeased voices. Apollo sighed as he looked at his family once again imploding on its own. He knew that deep inside everyone was excited with the idea of gifting a mortal with divine powers, it was a fascinating process. It allowed the gods to mold a person according to their needs, and of course desires. The trip down to the terrestrial plane could be a hassle, but nothing none of the twelve Olympians could handle. He was particularly keen on seeing what his normally silent brother Hephaestus and his hermit twin sister Artemis would come up with.

Suddenly Zeus slammed his hand on the giant round table on the center and thunder flashed all across the room and resonated with a deafening sound that completely drowned the gods´ anxious voices.

“The decision is made. According to Hades we got exactly until the next lunar cycle for Typhon´s energy to start leaking out of Tartarus. Until then the champion has to be chosen and ready with his task so we can avoid the most corruption possible. Each Olympian must have their candidate ready by the next full moon and present him before the celestial gateway on the base of Mount Olympus. That is an order.”

Zeus´s eyes flashed excitedly with the glow of golden lightning.

“Meeting adjourned.”

The king of the gods then disappeared with blinding thunder. Each god made their way out of the palace to get ready for the task at hand. Apollo got on his chariot and smiled. Apparently, a new form of inspiration was presenting itself to him, and he was going to enjoy every second of it. It was fitting for his father to turn a crisis situation into a competition, but this time Apollo was excited to participate. The chariot of the sun then departed hastily into the night sky as the thunder clouds dissipated and a dark moon adorned the firmament.

#olympic gods #transformation #musclegrowth

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gayleftistlukeskywalker · 3 years

Text

the stars pale beside your might ch1

ch1

words: 2k

a/n: can i offer you some nice bobin fic in this trying time? this will be a multi-chapter fic with angst, mandalorian diaspora, and lots of slow-burn. upates will most likely be sporadic, but let me know if you would like to be tagged!

cw: drunk din, spoilers for season 2 finale

ao3 link

The whir of the ship shifting into hyperdrive barely registered on Din’s mind, and neither did the ache of bruises forming underneath his beskar armor. A ghost of a feeling, a soft hand on his cheek, and a deep wrenching in his chest, rolled over and over again in his mind. He had not asked Shand or Fett where the Slave I was going before they departed, and with Shand co-piloting in the cockpit, Din was left alone in the cabin with only his thoughts to keep him occupied. Bounty hunters were not usually the type to understand companionship, or the loss of it; but Mando’ade were more than just mere bounty hunters.

------

When Boba’s ship had docked at the star cruiser, he had been surprised to see the sordid looks on the faces of the ragtag group that Din had assembled. When Boba looked to Din, he saw no child in his arms, nor clinging to his leg.

“The child?” He asked, addressing no one in particular.

Din merely shook his head, as his companions looked on, their eyes shining with compassion. Boba gave a somber nod in response, not prodding for details, but assuming things had taken a turn for the worst.

------

A bump on the shoulder startled Din, and he breathed in sharply, as if the sheer pressure of his thoughts had threatened to drown him. He hadn’t noticed the ship’s landing, or the cabin doors opening. Boba Fett, in full armor, stood on the ground below, and Din noted the bright light of harsh sun, and the dry heat now sweeping into the hold, palpable even through layers of armor.

“Fennec, with me,” Boba directed, gesturing to his side. Fennec nodded, and stepped off the ramp and onto the ochre-colored sand, her signature sniper rifle in tow.

“Shand and I have some unfinished business to attend to. You can either stay with the ship or we can part ways, but as far as I’m concerned, my debt to you is now paid.”

Din’s mind flicked through the events of the past few days; his foundling gone, his ship destroyed, his face. It felt as if his boots were welded to the metal of the ship's cargo ramp, and in the end all he could manage was a nod to Fett. Boba returned the gesture, and their heavy footfalls in the sand slowly faded into nothingness, leaving Din alone with his thoughts once again. He sank slowly back into the seating of the cabin, and let the door close, leaving him with only the glow of the overhead light.

It was over half a rotation by the time the door opened again, flooding the hold with fresh air, scented with dry earth. Fennec stood in the doorway, her eyes widening slightly with surprise at seeing the Mandalorian, his armor reflecting the glow of the moonlight on the sand.

“So, you’re still here after all, huh? Looks like I owe Boba some credits” she mused. When all she received was a blank stare from Din, she shrugged. “I’m here to move the ship, Boba wants to speak with you when we land.”

The first thing Din saw upon stepping out onto the desert was the warmth of lights shining out from a large, regal looking tower. Din breathed in the dry air, and glanced overhead at the sky, its moonlight casting long shadows onto the sand. He recognized the triple moons of Tatooine, though the structure perched on the cliff before him, it’s towers stretching overhead, was not familiar to him. As Din stepped into the throne room, trailing along Shand, he noticed how punctuated their footsteps were in the silence.

Jabba’s palace, usually a hive of activity, bounty hunters blowing off steam with their newly earned credits, or else getting into scuffs and negotiations ending in blaster fire, now lay quiet. There was only one figure Din saw upon entering the vacant throne room. Boba’s moss green armor decorated the sand-colored throne he now sat upon, like a jewel beset in a royal crown. Boba stood to greet the bounty hunters, his arms outstretched in welcome.

“Ah, you’re just in time for the celebrations,” he bellowed, casually walking over to the bar and removing his helmet, which he set down next to the various bottles of liquid.

“Spotchka?” he asked, offering a small glass of glowing liquid to Din. The mandalorian was quick to accept, raising his helmet just enough to down the liquid in one go. Boba nodded with approval before seating himself at the bar, and gestured to the space next to him. Din obliged, straddling the stool and propping his elbows up on the counter.

“I thought you said your debt to me was paid,” Din questioned, his head turning towards Boba, who was reaching across the bar to grab the spotchka bottle.

Boba chuckled, “I’m simply celebrating a victory with a fellow warrior.” He downed another shot of the glowing liquid, and promptly poured another for his drinking companion. It was only now that Din noticed the absence of Shand, who had apparently vacated the throne room without Din noticing. He and Fett were completely alone. Had Boba requested to speak with Din alone?

“This little hideout is going to be the base of my operations. Soon I will have work for every bounty hunter from here to the Inner Rim,” he mused, the throaty rasp in his voice giving a sharp edge to his words. “Plenty of high-paying jobs for a man of your skillset.”

Din considered this for a moment. Years of experience in this line of work had made him accustomed to people with ulterior motives, although he could not think of an angle that Fett might be trying to work from him.

“Thank you, Fett.” Boba reached to fill up both their glasses with his gloved hands. The air was comfortably still as they both drank.

“I expect you’ll be needing a new ship. Some weaponry,” Fett began, casually swirling the leftover liquid in his glass. “As it happens, I’ve recently come into some assets that would be of use to you.”

“I can’t accept charity like that,” Din responded. Truthfully, he was quite low on credits, having not been able to take many paying jobs the past few weeks. He could get a ship, he thought, but scraping up the credits planet-side on Tatooine would be quite an undertaking.

“Don’t think of it as charity, think of it as an advance. I get you up and running, you do some work for me until it’s paid off.”

Din exhaled, fixing his attention to his empty spotchka glass.

“It’ll be hard work,” Boba continued. “I’m not in the business of giving anything away for free.” He let his words hang in Din’s mind while the helmeted man worked his jaw, considering his options. Bounty hunting was a solitary occupation, it was every man for himself, and if you slipped up, the consequences were yours alone to deal with. But here Fett was offering him a hand, an easy way out. Fett had no real reason to put trust in Din, and for that matter, Din had no reason to trust Fett, so why take such a risk?

“Ok,” Din grunted, “I accept.”

“There’s a good lad. You’ll be richer than you ever were taking jobs from the Guild,” Boba exclaimed, clinking his glass to Din’s.

There was an easy silence as both men drank their fill, the cool night air was sweet against the scent of dank earth and booze.

“Fennec told me what happened on the star cruiser,” Boba said, breaking the silence, his voice suddenly low, and almost gentle. Though perhaps that was just the spotchka addling Din’s perception.

Din swallowed, Shand must have told him everything.

Boba continued, “It’s no easy thing, to defeat an imperial commander like that in single combat. You should be proud.” He turned to Din now, fixing his gaze into the dark eyesight of Din’s helmet.

“I don’t feel proud,” Din blurted out, almost taken aback by his sudden honesty. The spotchka was settling in his blood quicker than he realized.

“That sword you’re carrying is no mere battle trophy, as I’m sure you realize. What I would have given to see the look on the princess’s face when you strode in wielding that,” he chuckled darkly.

“I have a feeling she’ll be back for it sooner or later. Probably sooner.” Din paused, licked his lips. “I just- I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he muttered, averting his gaze from Fett’s bare eyes, which now felt as though they were piercing through his armor.

Boba poured Din another generous glass of the glowing liquid in response, and Din was quick to toss it back.

“Perhaps not, but such is the way of the galaxy, Mand’alor,” Boba teased. Din swung his head to face Boba, the lines of Din’s face creasing with exasperation underneath his helmet. Fett only shot him a sly smirk in response, shifting himself in his seat, his arms coming to rest casually on his thighs.

“I’m not-” Din started, but his sentence only ended in a groan. All he had ever known was his covert, his bounties, his ship; that was all that had mattered, until the kid.

Din shook his head, suddenly feeling as though his body was made of lead. “The foundling,” he started, his lips struggling to form the proper words, “He was… reunited with his own kind, with the jedi.”

Boba’s stomach twisted at the mention of the jedi, his blood suddenly running hot in his veins. If Din noticed the quick flash of anger on Boba’s face, it was gone just as suddenly as it had come, and Din did not give it any thought.

The bald man nodded, exhaling through his nose. “I see.” He grabbed for the spotchka bottle once again, filling up both of their glasses to the brim. Boba raised his glass above his head. “Then, may he grow strong, and make his father proud,” he pronounced, and drank deeply from his glass. Din quickly followed suit, and the two men sat for a moment in silence, letting the effects of the drink wash over them like a fog.

“I don’t know if.... If I did the right thing,” Din breathed. With his defenses down, there was nothing to stop the grief from bubbling up from deep within his chest. A strange feeling seemed to grip Din from the inside, as if he might confess all his sins to this man he barely knew. He felt so alone without his covert, adrift in the vast galaxy without hands to guide him. Caring for the child had all but consumed his waking thoughts. What had once been “return the foundling”, had unwittingly become, “care for the foundling”. Din had not thought about any kind of after.

Boba chewed over his words for a moment. He was not accustomed to people seeking sage wisdom from him, unless it was about the most effective way to fire a blaster through someone’s heart from half a klick away.

“You followed the path that was set for you, that’s all there is to it,” the scarred man said quietly.

Din looked deeply into his glass. “What would you have done?”

Boba exhaled through his nose, “My path is different from yours.”

Another glass deep and Din found himself suddenly choking on nothing but thin air, the events from the past few days suddenly catching up to him all at once, crowding his lungs. Images of his early childhood flashed through his mind, his birth father, looking down at him, silhouetted by the sky. His buir, lifting him above the rising flames and smoke. Din hardly even glanced at the glass being offered to him before he downed it. His head was swimming, and he lacked feeling in his face. Heat pricked the corner of his eyes, and hot tears began trailing down his cheeks completely unwillingly. He was far too drunk to consider being ashamed.

#bobin #bobadin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #my stuff #tspbym

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