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danyka-fendyr · 5 years

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Absence of Good

Chapter 3: Everybody Has a Hometown

Okay, so it’s a little late, but like I said last week, I decided not to release a chapter of this last week because I was putting out so many one-shots. I think I should be able to keep up a mostly consistent upload schedule but probably not a specific day. Oh well. Can’t have everything I guess. This chapter is particularly dark for a number of reasons, so I would suggest the faint of heart skip it. Also I’ve been watching a lot of horror movies lately, and so even though I haven’t seen Midsommar yet, I know it’s about a cult so that concept kind of inspired this chapter a little. Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy.

Additional Note: Timeline wise I wanted to keep this pretty vague so while Reid’s self-proclaimed age in this chapter would make this circa season 6, you can imagine him in whatever season you like.

Permanent Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake @prettyboyspenerrr

Wordcount: 3365

Warnings: Death. Child predators. Child death. Violence. Mentions of sexual assault. Pedophilia. Bad relationship with parents. Mentions of cults.

“Loneliness does not come from having no people around one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”

-Carl Jung

“I’m sorry sir, you said we’re going where?” you said.

“Is there a problem, Y/L/N?”

Hotch’s face never moved past ambivalence, but if it did, he would have been raising an eyebrow at you right now. He probably didn’t think that was workplace appropriate. Rossi, from across the table, had no such scruples and was openly making a face. The perks of seniority.

“No, sir. My apologies.”

“Alright then. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said,

Spencer gave you a questioning look as you headed for your go bag, but all you offered in return was a noncommittal smile. The less everyone knew about this, the better. The last thing you needed was a big fuss.

You boarded the plane with the same mindset, hoping that your earlier surprise and commentary had blown over. Even if it hadn’t though, Hotch was not one to waste time on trivialities. Before anyone could ask you anything, Hotch was talking about the case.

“Three children, all in 3 weeks. Our unsub’s cooling-off period is basically non-existant.”

“That’s not characteristic of a preferential offender. They usually don’t have a big enough victim pool for that kind of speed,” you said.

“True. The victims cross gender lines as well. One girl, two boys. No way our guy is a preferential offender,” Morgan said.

“Assuming it is a guy,” Emily chimed in.

“You think it’s a woman?” you asked.

“It’s possible. Anything is on the table with an unsub that crosses the gender line,” she replied.

“It could be a woman, but statistically it’s far more likely to be a man. Men committed 89.5% of homicides in the United States of America between the years of 1980 and 2008, so while I certainly don’t think we should rule out the possibility, I wouldn’t put any concrete gender on our offender yet,” Spencer said.

“Alright, so we’ve got a guy with no cooling-off period who’s killing kids. Why? Is there any evidence of sexual assault?” JJ asked.

“The M.E.’s report doesn’t mention any on the victim’s examined so far,” Rossi said.

“Maybe it is a woman,” you theorized. “Children would be small enough to overpower, and the lack of sexual assault suggests a female unsub.”

“You may be right,” Hotch said. “We’ll know more when we get there and can examine the bodies firsthand. Spencer and Y/N, you can work with the M.E. on this one. Morgan, Prentiss, you head to the last dumpsite. Rossi, you’re with JJ. You two head to the previous two dumpsites, see if there’s anything left you might be able to find. We should be landing soon.”

As soon as your feet hit the tarmac, you felt a sense of dread. Part of it was, of course, your impending trip to the M.E. You weren’t a fan at the best of times, but kids...kids were hard. Very, very hard. It went beyond that though.

The smell of the air, the wind tugging softly at your hair, the feeling of the ground underneath your feet. The sad truth was that there was nothing you hated more than being home.

You were quiet as you got in the car, keeping your eyes on your phone. Your parents knew you were here by now, and they wanted you to come over for dinner when your case was finished. That was the last thing you wanted. You put your phone away, deciding to stare out the window at the too-familiar scenery instead.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked.

He was driving and you were in the passenger seat on the way to the M.E., which unfortunately gave him an uninhibited view of your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just not looking forward to this.” Excuses, excuses.

“Yeah, me neither. This is going to be a rough case,” Spencer admitted.

“You’re telling me.”

“I wish I could say it gets easier, but...”

“When this job gets easier, they won’t need us anymore.” you sighed.

“Yeah. Something like that. I wouldn’t mind a world that doesn’t need the BAU though. Would you?”

“No. No, I suppose I wouldn’t. What would you do, if you weren’t in the BAU?” you asked.

“Me? Well...it’s kind of stupid.”

“No such thing.” you turned in your seat, facing your body towards him.

“When I was a kid, I had this dream...I wanted to be a magician, you know?”

“Wait, you can do magic tricks?” A grin curved across your face, utterly delighted.

“Uh, yeah. When the occasion calls for it.” Spencer lifted a hand off the wheel to rub the back of his neck.

“That’s amazing! Will you do one for me sometime?”

Spencer glanced over at you, alert and smiling, looking happier than you had since boarding the plane.

“...Sure.”

He smiled softly at you, and it was your turn to be embarrassed.

“So, what about you. If not the FBI, then what?” He asked.

Oh boy. This case was just going to be a walk down memory lane, wasn’t it?

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a psychologist or something.”

“That’s what you wanted to be growing up? A psychologist?”

You knew it was bad when Spencer Reid was judging you for your goals being too serious and academic.

“I mean, not as a kid, obviously, but when I was in college I thought about it,” you deflected.

“So what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“It’s dumb,” you said.

“No such thing.”

“I hate it when you use my own words against me, Dr. Reid.”

He just waited, grinning rather cheekily.

“Okay, mister, you want to know what I wanted to be when I was a kid? I wanted to be a singer, alright? I wanted to learn how to play guitar and write my own songs and play sold-out stadiums. Like I said, dumb kid’s dream.”

“That’s not dumb. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not exactly up to date on music or...pop culture in general, I guess, but that’s not dumb. It sounds awesome, actually. I didn’t know you could play the guitar.”

“I can’t,” you said. “I said I wanted to learn, not that I did.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “Parents didn’t think it was a good idea. I got piano lessons instead. They were...educational.”

Fun would have been the wrong word.

“So your parents were strict?”

“Not exactly. They would like you though,” you said, steering the conversation away from yourself.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I have dinner with them this week probably and I kind of wish I could download even half the information in your brain so I could generate some truly impressive dinner table conversation.”

“I could make you some flashcards if you like.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Spence. I don’t think it would be as good as the real deal though.”

“Well, I could always come. The entire team could show. Make it a party,” he joked.

You went silent, thinking about it. “Gosh, there would be nothing I would love more than that. Sadly, you guys won’t even be in town anymore.”

“Anymore? I thought you were planning on flying out to see your parents?” Spencer asked, confused.

“Why would I when they’re right here?”

“This is your hometown?”

“Sure is. It kind of sucks, right? One too many serial killers for my taste, if I’m honest with you.”

“Yeah. You may have a point there,” Spencer agreed, parking the car.

“So what are we looking at here?” You asked the M.E.

“This is a bit unorthodox, all things considered. You probably get that a lot though.” You waited patiently for him to continue. “It looks like there are no signs of sexual assault, but there is some..unique physical mutilation.”

“Unique how?” Spencer asked.

The M.E. moved towards the bodies. “See these cuts here? The marks make up a pattern. These weren’t done to kill. They’re more ritualistic in nature. The cause of death was actually a stab wound to the chest with acute pericardial tamponade. Or in other words, they were stabbed in the heart with a very long, very sharp knife.”

“What is this here, on the left shoulderblade?” Spencer asked, looking up from where he was bent over the body of the newest victim.

“It looks like...a tattoo of a turtle. Do the other victims have these?”

You examined the other two bodies, finding the same markings. They were surprisingly artistic, all things considered.

“These weren’t done by an amateur,” you mumbled.

“No. These were definitely ritualistic killings. We should have been called in sooner.”

You headed back to the team with your information, Know that you knew more about the bodies, it was becoming very clear what kind of unsub you were dealing with. Now there was a new question.

“Is it possible we’re dealing with multiple unsubs here?” Morgan asked.

“It could be. Given the ritualistic nature of these killings, this could be some kind of cult. Reid, what do you think the significance of the turtle is?” Hotch asked.

“Well, turtles popularly represent longevity, given their own lifespans, so it’s entirely possible that our unsub or unsubs think that they can achieve immortality with these killings.”

“What about the cuts on the body? You said those were in a pattern?” Emily asked.

“Yeah. Nothing decipherable, but we’re still working on it,” you said.

“Well, keep working. Morgan, I want you and JJ to work with Garcia and see what you can come up with on the tattoo angle. See if you can find anyway who would be able to do work like this. Garcia, I also want you looking into any local cults or societies. Anything you find that sends up red flags, send it to Prentiss. Prentiss, Rossi, you two can check out whatever Garcia sends you. Got it?”

Everyone hummed their assent, and you had the unfortunate job of getting to go back to the pictures sent from the M.E. It had been hours of staring at the carvings on the children’s stomach and backs and several cups of coffee before you started to get an idea. Concerned it might be half-hallucination, you called Spencer over from his own space.

“Is it just me, or do these marks kind of look like a tree? Long and straight on the bottom and then they curve up and out, like branches. Are you seeing that too?”

Spencer tilted his head, staring at them. “Actually...that might make sense. On the one hand, there’s a correlation to the tree of life. But on the other hand, turtles were also historically a symbol of mother nature. Which means...”

“Which means we might not be dealing with a bunch of Nicolas Flamel groupies after all. This could be the work of a group of eco-terrorists.”

“We have to tell Hotch.”

You made short work of the case once you realized the people you were actually after. Between the tattoo artist connection and the fact that your town did not have that many cults (though definitely more than you would have liked), it didn’t take you long to find your group. Apparently, they thought that if they sacrificed 8 people, children specifically for their purity, they could cleanse the Earth and...eliminate global warming or something. You had sort of stopped listening after the, “Yeah, we definitely did it,” part.

“Is Y/N not coming?” JJ asked, slinging her go-bag over her shoulder.

“Nope, afraid not. I have to have a family dinner.” you shrugged, hoping that if you played casual they would just...forget about it.

“You forgot to tell everyone?” Spencer spoke up, and you froze. “Y/N told me she wanted everyone to come to dinner tonight. Figured it would be fun to have a team dinner and a family dinner all at once.”

“Awww, little mama, you shouldn’t have.”

Derek smiled, and you mustered a smile back. On the one hand, you were grateful to Spencer. You had certainly not been looking forward to dinner with your family. However...you also weren’t sure you wanted your family anywhere near the team.

“Well, I know the best places to eat in town, so whoever is down...”

“Count me in,” Rossi said.

“I’m always available for good food.” That was Prentiss, giving you a knowing look that you would probably have to deal with later.

“Will and the boys weren’t actually expecting me home until tomorrow, and I just can’t miss a one time opportunity like this.” JJ smiled at you.

“Looks like you have the whole team.”

“Awesome!” Oh, this could go so badly for you.

On the way to the restaurant, you texted your parents to let them know there would be company. The place you had chosen to eat was a little hole in the wall diner with great burgers and a cute 50′s theme, and lucky for you, it was never very busy. You might have to push a few tables together, but there would be space for you.

You had all stopped off at the hotel beforehand, and you were nervous now that someone would comment on your appearance like they had all obviously wanted to when they first saw you. You didn’t look like your normal self. You looked...muted. Like someone had washed out all the color and replaced it with a solid layer of the most boring shade of beige. Rossi had saved you though with an elegant compliment, saying that you looked as lovely as ever. The man certainly had tact.

Hotch held the door open as you all entered the diner, and it didn’t take you long to find your parents. 2 people sitting at a table for 9. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Sweetheart!”

Your mother smiled warmly, getting up to hug you. You father followed shortly after, and you introduced your team.

“It’s nice to meet all of you. Y/N talks about you a lot,” your father said.

“When she calls.”

There was a hint of sincere bitterness to your mother’s joke, and you forced a brighter smile in an effort to fight it off.

“Oh, Mom, you know how it is. Busy all the time,” you said, letting Spencer pull out your chair for you before you both sat down.

The poor boy had, of course, no idea what he’d done. Now your Dad was staring at him skeptically, like Spencer was trying to get into your pants. Heaven forbid he have manners.

“So, Mr. Reid, what’s your role on the team?” your Dad asked.

“He’s a Dr., Dad. It’s Dr. Reid. And he’s our resident genius.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t mean to speak over Spencer like that, and you knew it was rude, but the urge to defend him had risen up so strong that it had just come out. You hoped he would forgive you, and you guessed by the soft smile he gave you that he did.

“What are you a doctor in, then?” your Dad grumbled.

“I actually have 3 PhD’s, sir. In mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

Maybe you had no right to look so proud, but you did anyway.

Your mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Impressive! And how old are you?”

You nearly groaned. In sharp contrast to your father, your mother was now trying to play the matchmaker. Joy.

“I’m 29.”

“Our boy wonder here is pretty impressive.” Morgan looked just as proud as you when he said it, giving you a smirk you didn’t understand.

Your Dad did not look happy about this development, so you spoke before he could.

“I mean, the whole team is impressive really. It’s crazy getting to work with all of you.” You laughed a little bit.

The conversation continued easier after that, steering away from work and into more mundane things like your childhood. In fact, everything was going fine. Or it was until your dear old Dad brought up your brother.

“You know, my only regret is that your brother couldn’t be here tonight. It’s a shame he’s away on business. He works hard though. Does important work.”

You did your best fake of a pleasant smile. “Of course.”

Your brother’s work was far from important. He worked as an insurance guy, for Pete’s sake. Your parents would never forgive you for being absent so often, but your brother? Oh, he could do no wrong.

“What? Do you disagree, Y/N?” The confrontation in your father’s tone was thinly veiled.

“No, of course not,” you said blandly. “I’m sure whatever he’s doing tonight is important. Pass the ketchup?”

Your mother gave it to you, leaving your father free to engage in his favorite activity. Picking a fight.

“I mean, can’t really get mad at him, can we? He calls home all the time, comes by for dinner frequently. He’s a good kid. Very successful.” You could practically taste the implication that you weren’t.

You refused to rise to the bait.

“Yeah, yeah. He’s definitely got the time for all that.” You nodded, unable to resist a subtle dig.

“Oh, and you don’t? Not 5 minutes to phone your mother?”

You kept your voice tranquil and cool. “I called her last week, Dad.”

“Didn’t call to let us know you were in town. Had to find out from that friend of yours, what was her name? The blonde?”

Gosh, did he have to do this now?

“Sorry. I’ll try to give you a better heads-up next time. This case was-”

“Oh, forget the case.” Your Dad rolled his eyes. “It’s always about the cases with you. Are your cases more important than your family?”

You grit your teeth. Fine then, if you were going to do this...

“No more important, I’m sure, then whatever the golden child is up to tonight.” You kept your tone even, but your voice was icy cool.

“Don’t give me that lip young lady! Your brother is a man, doing important work to provide-”

“Provide for who, Dad?” You interrupted, letting some of your frustration through. “He doesn’t have a wife or kids or a girlfriend. He’s certainly not sending money home to you. So tell me, Dad, who is providing for himself such a noble pursuit? Or was the more notable part of that statement that he’s a man? Which means it’s okay that he’s married to his work?”

“You know what? You’re not exactly getting hitched either, so don’t criticize your brother’s relationships. You have no right. And secondly, he’s a man doing good, honest work, and that’s the more notable part. If he’s married to his work right now, so what? He has time.”

“Oh yes, all the time in the world. Me, on the other hand, I should count my days. Sucks to be the oldest, huh? You just waste away before everyone’s eyes.” You sighed dramatically.

“Listen here-”

“Darling, please. We have guests.” Finally, your mother interrupted.

Your Dad gave you a glare that said this wasn’t over but settled back down, going back to his french fries.

The rest of dinner was awkward, to say the least. The conversation never quite returned to what it was, and you were glad when they brought the check. You were also glad when, under the table, Spencer squeezed your hand. A comforting gesture, a moment to say that he was with you, even if he wasn’t about to openly get involved in your family business without your consent. You appreciated that.

You were all more than relieved when the night was over, bidding your parents goodbye and watching them get into their car and drive away. You gave them a final wave as a send-off, despite your Dad only affording you a stormy glare.

JJ broke the silence. “So...your Dad’s kind of sexist, huh?”

You snorted. “Yeah, something like that. You guys want ice cream? I know an awesome place, and we still have time...”

“Pretty girl, when am I ever going to turn down an ice cream cone?” Derek grinned at you.

“Sweet. Let’s go!”

The rest of the night had a much different tone than the one you’d started with, and you had to admit it. You just might have to thank Spencer Reid for this night after all. He could be a bit of a genius.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”

-Harper Lee

#tw:sexual assault #tw:pedophila #tw:death #tw:rape #tw:harm to children #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #tw:cult #tw:sexism #tw:family problems

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onewhoturns · 6 years

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6-1

So. Chapter 6 (7 on AO3) is going to have a lot of technical stuff. I’m a sucker for the imagery of magic control so... it may be wordy and potentially clunky... Though that’s mostly 6-2. A little in this section too, though, so if you’ve got feedback on if/how to clean it up and make it more concise, lemme know. Always looking for comments. ^^ Previously: Prelude, 1-1, 1-2, 1-3, 2-1, 2-2, 2-3, 2-4, 3-1, 3-2, 3-3, 4-1, 4-2, 4-3, 5-1, 5-2, 5-3. Elsewhere: AO3, FFnet, ko-fi (for 6-2 preview).

“The key to resisting enchantment is an unwavering surety in one’s own self.”

They’d paused mid-afternoon by a stream Emily had never been aware of before. Then again, they’d been traveling far from any path she’d known, the forest parting to let them pass. While she’d taken a moment to rest, the Outsider had slipped silently into the trees, melting down to shadow again, and returned a few minutes later with an update about the witches’ progress in their search. Satisfied that they had a substantial lead, with the witches searching west instead of east, he’d initiated her first lesson.

“Doubt is both necessary and disastrous. You cannot doubt the tenets of your will, but you must doubt what you are being asked to do.”

She found his direct attention a little off-putting, especially while he stood, unfazed, knee-deep in water she’d considered almost too cold to rinse her face with.

“The most successful enchantments are not presented merely as orders but as suggestions, complete with reasoning. Unfortunately, while slightly easier to cast, those are also harder to resist.”

It was a relief to break eye contact as he stepped a few careful steps toward the side of the stream where she sat with legs dangling off the edge of an overhanging rock, but that relief was quickly gone once he was only a few feet away, almost perfectly eye level with her.

“So we will start with the more clear-cut, less elegant enchantments.”

One moment she was staring into those golden eyes...

...And the next she was watching him frown.

“What-”

It came to her in a rush, even as she looked with surprise to a hand she hadn’t chosen to raise. She snatched it from the air, an unpleasant shock clanging at the base of her spine. Her skin crawled just knowing that it had happened. That he’d asked her to do something, even something as trivial as lifting her hand into the air, and her body - her mind, even - had done it without a second thought.

She stared at her hand like it belonged to someone else, feeling her pulse stutter. Her chest felt tight, strained, and she swallowed hard.

“Emily.”

Brown eyes were wide as she met his gaze, unable to hide that touch of fear that had seized her, squeezing tighter and tighter. Deep breaths. Calm down.

But before she could calm herself it happened again. Another skip and rush of memory, this time the simple motion of closing her hand, turning it over--

She yelped, scrambling to her feet, blood rushing in her ears. “Stop it--” Her voice was too loud, but she couldn’t turn it down. “Stop, I changed my mind-”

Fingers trembled, her whole body shaking - too hot, too cold - and she clenched her hands into fists, letting her brain gradually assimilate what could have only been a few seconds of time out of her own control. Her mouth was dry, throat tight. She must’ve stood still for a solid two minutes, staring at the ground, before she forced herself back to the present.

When she finally looked back to the stream, she realized the Outsider hadn’t moved an inch. He was watching, brow ever so slightly furrowed, with that expression that was becoming almost familiar: something between concern and curiosity.

Counting her breaths, Emily stared down at her hands, flexing them experimentally. She could feel how red her face was, and instead of being embarrassed just felt angry. No, not quite angry… frustrated. Frustrated with herself, and him, and magic in general-

“I apologize.”

His voice was so smooth, moving like the water he stood in but with none of its chill, his tone instead subdued. Still standing in place, his palms were turned toward her in a manner that immediately reminded her of approaching a skittish animal. Was that how she seemed to him? Thinking through her own actions… perhaps.

“I haven’t tried to teach anyone in-” His eyes flicked aside for a moment, as though racking his memory for the answer, before he inclined his head slightly. “It’s been a very long time.”

Emily sighed, glancing down at her own clenched hands and letting some of the tension leave her body. “I’m sorry.”

When she looked back up, she saw the smallest of smiles on his lips. “No you’re not. And you have no reason to be.”

Admittedly taken aback by his words, she gradually felt her mouth curving ruefully. “...Fair enough.” He still hadn’t moved, and she took a few slow steps back toward the bank.

There was a moment of hesitation as he watched her, seeming to weigh words on his tongue before he spoke. “...If you would rather, charms work far more efficiently. I just thought… Well, unless the curse is suspended…”

Brown eyes narrowed and Emily’s lips pursed.

“I could not continue suppressing the symptoms if you wore a charm to counteract the spell.” It wasn’t voiced with the intonation of a warning, yet it clearly was one.

Scarcely did anyone hold her gaze so brazenly. Too often eyes were lowered courteously, or she would give a gracious nod and avert her own eyes - but he so rarely looked away. And more often then not when he did it was more for her sake than his own. Now he watched her with something she thought might be forced casualness - a bizarre expression to see on him - and she very briefly wondered why.

“Or we can set aside resisting enchantment entirely.”

She shook her head, glancing down at her feet for a moment. “No, no, I still want to learn. I was just… shaken.” Gradually she returned to where she’d been perched, but made no attempt to sit again. It felt more secure making him look up to meet her eyes. Having the upper ground. “I don’t suppose there’s some other way to start?” The question was straightforward, no wheedling or whining on her part. It wasn’t even particularly hopeful. If there wasn’t… well, there wasn’t. She’d figure out a way to handle it.

He nodded, though it seemed it was more in consideration than confirmation. “We may be able to come up with some alternative.” He stepped through the water slowly, watching his steps, and leaned his elbows against the rock shelf once he reached it. Again, it was markedly odd to see something so regal behave so casually. She glanced down at him, the way his chin rested on clasped hands as he watched her, but she made no move to retreat. “First, though, I think we need to discuss boundaries.”

She scuffed a boot against the rock absently, considering. “How so?”

He raised an eyebrow, but seemed to take a moment to choose his words, folding his hands before him as the casual demeanor melted away. “Do you trust me, Your Majesty?”

Mirroring his expression, she stopped herself from answering with the first thing that popped into her head. Yes… and no. Her life was valuable to him, he’d proven that. But he’d also stated quite plainly that he… how had he worded it… “I only have so much time I can invest in you.” Yet this whole endeavor seemed quite an investment of time. It very clearly wasn’t going to be easy. She very clearly wasn’t going to be an easy person to work with. But he still offered. Still intended to put in the time.

“I caution you to think before you answer.”

Doubt trickled into the back of her mind. She was leaning toward yes. Why would he steer her away from that answer?

“Consider your admission earlier, Majesty.”

It was such a clear warning. She didn’t try to hide her confusion at the statement, but she heeded his advice.

Earlier...

As they’d ridden. When she’d voiced her unintended question. Words had left her mouth before she’d chosen to speak.

And in the palace. (That familiar creeping prickle along her spine returned, but she forced herself to set it aside.) In the palace she’d been mindless, compliant. And when he’d arrived and questioned her she’d been confused. Because he asked her to do things she thought were wrong -- but not wrong to her, wrong to the enchantment. And all she’d wanted to do in that moment was to make him happy. To do what he’d wanted. To do what he asked.

Oh.

“Will you swear your service?”

She would’ve said yes. In that state? She wouldn’t have hesitated.

Emily’s stomach rolled. “Ah.” A muscle in her jaw tightened.

“I ask you again, Your Majesty: Do you trust me?” There was an edge to his voice.

She couldn’t help it; she stared, utterly perplexed. “...You want me to say no.”

He stared right back, but remained silent.

“Do you want me to say no?” It wasn’t quite a demand, but it was close.

His reply was quiet, and she was once more reminded of how one might approach a particularly wild animal. “A smart woman might.”

She had no subject-granted titles. She wasn’t Emily the Wise, or Emily the Cunning. She was just Queen Emily. And at this point, with Delilah on her throne, some may not even consider her that.

Her eyes were sharp, though not quite a glare, more an expression bordering on exasperation as she crouched before him, bringing her face mere inches from his. “Do you promise not to make me agree to the contract under enchantment? Not to swear my service not of my own free will?”

There was a long pause. His look was cool. He didn’t seem angry per se, but he didn’t look particularly happy about the direction this conversation was going. He seemed to answer grudgingly. “...Yes.”

They were awfully close, weren’t they? She watched the slight frown on his lips for a moment before she spoke, her words softer than she’d intended. “Then I trust you.”

If she were to lean just the slightest bit forward… if she were to lay her hands flat on the stone and move just an inch or two toward him…

How had it felt, her lips against his? How would it feel again? If she let herself explore him, would he taste the same? The ideas floated through her head lazily as she stared. When she spoke it was a quiet murmur, politely inquisitive. “Are you affecting me right now?” She hadn’t taken her gaze from his mouth.

After a moment of hesitation, his response was just as soft. “No.”

Her eyes flicked to his, in an instant reading a wariness in them. Wariness and something else… something she wanted to believe was restraint and not regret. For a second neither breathed. Finally, with a distant interest, she let out a contemplative, “Hm.” Another pause. “You wanted to discuss boundaries?”

#dishonored fanfic #iron and gold #fae au #faeU #fae #dishonored fae au #dishonored fairy au #emsider #my writing #fanfic #fic #wip

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cherry-kirsch · 6 years

Text

i like the way you look at me (when you look at me like that)

nozachiyo || 4379 words || sfw || fluff

Staying over to help Nozaki turns out to be the best thing that’s happened to her in a while.

[ AO3 ]

There's something oddly comforting, Chiyo realises, about Nozaki's presence.

For such a large man, he hardly seems to take up much space at all, at least, in a social point of view. He reserves himself to quiet observation and single sentences answers that are direct and to the point, and Chiyo can hardly see any fault in that, indirectness can often leave to unfortunate misunderstandings; after all, she of all people would know. Even now, hunched over the desk and wearing clothes seemingly so unfitting for his personality, Chiyo doesn't much notice him as she does see him, and as she pads into the room, she startles at the way he instantly notices her.

She offers him a smile. "Thank you for letting me stay over," she tells him softly. "And for letting me use your bathroom."

Nozaki just nods and turns back to his work. "It's no problem."

Chiyo takes her place on the pink cushion in front of the table, her legs tucked underneath her, and picks up her pen. She's long since given up on being discouraged by Nozaki's lack of enthusiastic response — he's not a particularly enthusiastic person, not in trivial moments such as these. She uncaps the brush pen and turns to the paper in front of her, leaning over it in her effort to concentrate on the intricately fine details of the background, and, when she looks up, she tries not to stare at how intently Nozaki is staring at her.

She offers him a shaky, nervous smile, and his brows furrow slightly. "Is…" She begins, her voice no more than a mumble. "Is something the matter?" She asks.

"No," Nozaki says matter-of-factly. "Would you like something to eat?" He asks.

"But… We just ate dinner…" Chiyo replies feebly, not wanting to feel rude.

Nozaki shrugs. "You can have something if you like."

Chiyo blinks at him before she nods carefully. "Oh, uh… Sure I guess…" She replies, watching Nozaki as he pushes his chair away from his desk and pads into the kitchen, switching on the light as he goes. She opens his mouth to tell him that she'll just have whatever is easiest, maybe a cookie or something, but in an instant Nozaki is back and in his hands is a plate of strawberry cheesecake. With wide eyes, she watches as he sets it down on the table in front of her, placing down a fork a moment later, and reassumes his position at his desk. "Nozaki… How…" She can barely manage to get a word out.

"Cheesecake is your favourite, right?" He asks, half-turning to her as she nods, staring down at the cheesecake.

"Yes, it is." She replies, pulling the china plate and fork towards her as she looks up at Nozaki. "But how did you know?"

Nozaki pauses for a moment and then shrugs. "Lucky guess." He says.

Chiyo nods and looks back down at the cheesecake, and then she pickup the fork and digs in. The first forkful is heaven on her tongue; the creaminess of the cheesecake and the tanginess of the strawberries compliment each other in such an utterly perfect way that Chiyo can help but squeeze her eyes shut and squeal quietly in delight. When she opens her eyes, cheeks flushed and a grin spread across her lips, she isn't surprised to see Nozaki watching her with a soft, almost amused smile.

"It's good! The strawberry is amazing, and it's so creamy!" She tell him enthusiastically, and without thinking she digs into the cheesecake again, lifting a forkful up to Nozaki. "Here! Try some!"

For a moment, the fork hangs wordlessly between them and Chiyo realises what kind of a position she has put herself in, because now Nozaki has three options. Option 1) Nozaki takes the fork from her and eats the bite like that, Option 2) Nozaki refuses and turns back to his work, or, Option 3) (arguably the worst option in Chiyo's opinion) Nozaki eats the cheesecake directly off the fork while she's still holding it. And, unfortunately for Chiyo, Nozaki decides to go against everything Chiyo thought she knew about him and leans forward to eat the cheesecake directly off the fork, successfully completing Option 3; Chiyo's worst nightmare.

Chiyo flushes bright red as Nozaki pulls away, nodding appreciatively, covering her eyes with her hands as she tries desperately to think of anything beside the fact that she and Nozaki technically just shared an indirect kiss via cheesecake fork. For a moment she feels like she’s going to cry.

"You're right," Nozaki says. "The cheesecake is good. I'll have to get more of it some time." Chiyo lets out a squeak of agreement and quickly shovels the rest of the cheesecake in her mouth before she turns back to her work, trying to ignore the way her stomach churns excitedly at the thought of Nozaki. "Are you alright? You look a bit red…"

Laughing nervously, Chiyo shakes her head furiously. "No-No! I'm fine!"

Nozaki frowns at her. "You look hot."

If possible, Chiyo flushes even redder, her eyes going as wide as saucers as she stares Nozaki down. "E-Excuse me?" She squeaks.

"I said you look a bit hot, would you like me to open a window?" Nozaki repeats.

Of course, Chiyo says to herself (slightly disappointed) as she breathes an imaginary sigh of relief, that’s what he meant.

“Don’t worry about it, Nozaki-kun,” She tells him with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Don’t bother yourself over me.”

Nozaki just stares at her a moment longer before he nods once and turns back to his desk, gathering his papers, Chiyo watches him before she turns back to the papers in front of her, once again momentarily distracted when she senses someone settling across from her, and feeling extremely confused when she notices that the person across from her is Nozaki.

She blinks at him as he settles comfortably on his cushion, laying his pens neatly beside his drawing board. “What are you doing?” Chiyo asks, though it comes out more of a statement than a question.

“Joining you,” Nozaki replies easily, hardly glancing up at her.

“I know that,” She replies. “I mean; what are you doing joining me?” She clarifies.

Nozaki finally meets her gaze. “I thought it may have been a little lonely for you, sitting down here alone now that everyone else had gone,” he looks almost nervous now. “So I was thinking I would join you… If you wanted.”

“Yes!” Chiyo replies, quickly swiping her arm across the table to push all of her pencils across to her side and create a space for Nozaki. Upon noticing Nozaki’s stare she flushes and stares down at her paper. “I mean… It’s nice that you joined me. Thank you.”

Nozaki gives her a small smile, a tiny upturn of his lips. “No problem.”

Chiyo smiles shakily back and turns back to her paper.

The words and lines are swimming in front of her eyes, turning into a swirl of black and white ink and fading pencil lines, and she suddenly regrets eating that cheesecake because of the wild churning of her stomach due to having Nozaki so close to her.

Her chest squeezes whenever she looks up at him, and she gets butterflies just thinking about him. When she had told Mikorin, who had remained blasé despite his usual tendency to run his mouth about news such as this, he had just smiled and told her, “You’re in love, Chiyo.”

Love? She wasn’t in love.

That’s what she used to tell herself, at least. She had never even thought of her feelings for Nozaki outside of a school-girl crush, let alone love. She couldn’t even think of the word without going bright pink and hiding her face in her hands, completely embarrassed.

And that’s what she was doing now, hiding her head in her hands because she thought about the fact she was most definitely, truly, irrevocably in love with Nozaki Umetarou.

And the worst part is that he doesn't love her back.

She stands abruptly. “I should probably get going!” She says shakily, beginning to shove her pencils haphazardly into her pencil box.

“Oh,” Nozaki replies, sounding only the slightest bit disappointed. “Weren’t you staying over?”

Chiyo flushes red in embarrassment. “I meant I should get going to bed.” She hastily corrects herself and Nozaki nods.

“Okay,” he says, standing up. “You can take my bed—”

“NO!” Chiyo cries and Nozaki stops to stare at her halfway through turning down his bed. “I-It’s alright! I… I’ll just… sleep on the sofa…” She says, already grabbing the cushion she was sitting on from beneath her and clutching it to her chest.

Nozaki shook his head. “No, Chiyo, I insist.” He says, gesturing to the bed. “It’s only right that you take the bed. You’re the guest.”

Chiyo hesitates, shuffling nervously on the balls of her feet, dithering. Finally, she sighs and drops the cushion onto the floor. “Okay…” She says. “If you insist… But, at least let me help you make the bed on the sofa.”

Nozaki nods, pleased, and pulls a duvet and two pillows out from the storage under his bed. He passes the pillows to Chiyo and she follows him into the living room, allowing him to spread the duvet over the sofa and turn it down before she places the pillows at the top of the sofa.

Honestly, Chiyo thought this would take longer.

“Well,” she begins, a nervous smile on her face as she turns to Nozaki. “Goodnight.” She says, and, before she can even think, she leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his lips.

She pulls back and meets Nozaki’s surprised gaze, his hands rested on top of hers, and she goes as red as her ribbons, immediately dissolving into a puddle of stuttering and embarrassment.

“Nozaki!” She cries, hardly listening when he starts to speak. “I’m so so so so so so sorry! I… I didn’t mean to do that, I swear. Look, I’m just going to leave, we can forget that I did that; please forget that I did that. Oh my God.”

Chiyo is silenced by Nozaki’s hands on either side of her face, pulling it up so his eyes can meet hers. He looks so serious that Chiyo can’t help but whimper slightly, her eyes welling up with tears. “Chiyo,” he says. “I love you.”

This time, she does cry. “D-Don’t… say that just to make me feel better,” she says, already trying to dry her tears with her hands. “You don’t have to. It’s alright, I’ll just—”

“Chiyo,” Nozaki repeats. “I love you.”

Chiyo groans in frustration, stamping her foot. “Why do you keep repeating that?” She asks throwing her hands in the air. “Are you trying to get back at me for kissing you? Honestly I didn’t take you for that kind of person but—”

“I keep repeating it because it’s true,” Nozaki says quietly. “I love you Sakura Chiyo. Really.”

Chiyo stops, her eyes widening. “You… love me?” She asks softly, tears still dripping gently down her cheeks. “Are… you sure?”

Nozaki laughs at that, brushing a few tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Yes, I love you. And yes, I’m sure.” He tells her, and Chiyo laughs back, leaning into his touch. “Would you like a tissue?” He asks.

“Yes,” Chiyo hiccups. “That would be nice.”

She lets Nozaki sit her on the sofa and thrusts a few tissues into her hands, and she dries her eyes carefully for a moment, trying not to think about how Nozaki has his arm around her.

“How…” She begins, unsure of how to phrase her question as she turns to him. “How did you realize that you… loved me?”

Nozaki considers this for a moment. “I think it must have been the fireworks festival,” he says, nodding. “Yes. When we were sitting on the climbing frame, watching the fireworks, I looked at you and thought that if I could choose a moment to get stuck in forever, I’d choose that one. With you.”

“I confessed to you then,” Chiyo says sharply and Nozaki’s eyebrows shoot up. “While we were watching the fireworks. You misheard me, but you smiled and I thought that maybe just staying friends would you wouldn’t be so bad. I didn’t want to sacrifice our friendship by repeating what I said.”

Nozaki moves closer to Chiyo, wrapping her tightly in his arms and resting his head on top of hers. “You should have.” He says. “At least I would have known.”

Chiyo laughs, wiping the last of the tears away with her fingers. “I think I was better off with you not knowing.” Nozaki pauses before he leans back and shifts Chiyo so she’s facing him and he has his hands on her shoulders. Chiyo stares at him. “Nozaki…?”

“Chiyo, can I kiss you?” he asks and Chiyo squeals loudly, slapping a hand across her mouth.

“I… I… Nozaki!” she manages to squeeze out before she sighs, pushes her hair back from her face and nods, looking up at him. “O-Okay…”

Carefully, he moves his hand up to cup her cheek. “Is this okay?” He asks, and when she nods furiously he moves his other hand to her hip. “This too?” She nods again and he leans in closer, stops and locks eyes with hers. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says softly. “Okay?”

Chiyo is almost buzzing beneath his fingers, running off nervousness. “Okay,” she agrees, nodding again as her breath hitches when he leans closer. “Wait.” She says and he does as she pushes hair away from her mouth. “I’m ready now. You can kiss me.”

Nozaki chuckles and nuzzles his nose gently against hers. “You’re just so cute.” He tells her, and she can hardly suppress a squeak when Nozaki leans in to capture her lips in a kiss.

The kiss isn’t how she imagined it would be. It’s not toe-curling, or eyelash-fluttering, or breath-taking, and it doesn’t taste like strawberry chapstick. His lips are firm on hers, slightly chapped and warm, and he holds her like she’s about to break, his fingers brushing the curve of her cheekbones and the pink blush of her cheeks.

If she had to put a sensation to the kiss, she’d say it was like a favorite sweater—warm, comforting, and something alike to what you’d wrap around yourself after coming home from a long day of work. The feeling of Nozaki seems to be all around her now, she can smell the tangerine scent of his shampoo and taste the cheesecake on his lips, and she melts into his hands and embrace like she’s belonged there all along.

When he leans back, scanning Chiyo’s face, she’s dazed, her eyes half-lidded and fixed on his lips.

“Chiyo?” Nozaki asks carefully, his hands dropping from her face to caress her arm in a way that leaves her skin tingling. “Are you alright?” He adds.

Chiyo nods and looks up lazily, finally meet his eyes. “You can kiss me again,” She says softly. “If you’d like.”

Nozaki smiles, mischievous and brilliantly bright. She wants to lean up and kiss that delicious smile from his lips. “Hmm… I’m not sure…” He says, and Chiyo seizes the front of her shirt, pulling herself up until they’re face to face—her eyes peering into his with such innocence sincerity that he wants to blush and hide his face from her.

“I am.” She says, and Nozaki doesn’t think there is anything more brilliant that Chiyo demanding what she wants. “I want you to kiss me again, please.” She asks breathlessly and Nozaki complies. He pulls away and she grips his sweatshirt tighter. “Again?” She asks and he does. “Again?”

“Again?” He repeats, faking confusion with a smile that steadily crawls across his lips. “But I just kissed you again times three. How many more ‘again’s do you want?” He asks her.

Chiyo thinks for a moment, releasing his sweatshirt as she falls back into her seat, before she smiles up at him and opens her arms wide. “The word ‘again’ is relative—If I had it my way, I’d have every ‘again’ with you until the end of time.”

Nozaki crooks an eyebrow and looks down at her. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend Chiyo?” He asks, and, for the split-second she looks dumbfounded, Nozaki thinks he might’ve gone too far.

But she smiles, crosses her legs and smiles up at him, offering him her hand. “And what if I was? Would you say yes?” She asks, and the question is so simply said, that Nozaki takes her hand, brings it to his lips and kisses each finger individually before he lets his lips linger on the back of her hand.

“Of course,” He says, and he loves the way she flushes at the words, her hand still resting in his. “Then I’ll get to call you my girlfriend.”

She snatches her hand back and hides her flushed face behind them, wiggling her toes as she brings her knees to her chest. “Dork.” She tells him, but the word is muffled through where she’s buried her face into her shirt. “You’re too cute.”

Nozaki carefully peels her hands from her face and smiles. “If anything you’re too cute.” He says, and Chiyo feels fifty degrees hotter and just assumes the position of resident tomato-impersonator.

“Stop!” She says, though she’s giggling, her nose scrunched up and a wide grin curling her lips.

“I love you Sakura Chiyo.” He says and she giggles again, smiling brightly with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Stop!”

He smiles. “I love you!” He declares.

“I love you too!” She says back loudly, happily, and though she looks startled when she realizes what she’s said, she doesn’t clap her hand over her mouth, she just moves one to her cheek and smiles serenely. “That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud… I’ve thought it, but it’s different saying it."

Nozaki nods seriously, understanding. “Then say it.” He says and Chiyo peers at him curiously. “Say it until it sounds natural.”

Chiyo nods and steels herself, putting on a serious expression that just makes her look ten times cuter. “I love you Nozaki Umetarou!” She declares and Nozaki nods.

“Again!” He says.

“I love Nozaki Umetarou!” She repeats, giggling as she topples back a little, looking overjoyed with the entire ordeal.

“Again!” he says.

Chiyo laughs and pushes her hair from her face. “How many more ‘again’s do you want?” She asks.

Nozaki takes both of her hands in his. “As many as you’ll let me have.” He tells her and she doesn’t know what else to do but stare at him. “I want every ‘again’ with you as many times as you’ll let me.”

“You can have all of them,” Chiyo blurts. “You can have every single ‘again’ I have.”

Nozaki nods. “And you can have all of mine too.”

Chiyo thinks for a moment. “You know, all of our ‘again’s together equal one forever.”

“That,” Nozaki says with a small smile, his thumb brushing gently over Chiyo’s knuckles. “I think we can share.”

Chiyo smiles right back. “I think I’d like that.”

They sit like that for a moment, comfortable in their silence, until Nozaki gets an idea. It springs to his mind seemingly out of nowhere, his mind scanning the codex he keeps in his brain of all the cute romantic gestures he has memorized for his manga, and, before Chiyo can say anything, he has peeled off his sweatshirt and handed it to Chiyo.

“For you.” He says seriously, and though Chiyo takes it, she blinks down at it in confusion.

She looks back up at him. “What for?”

“A gesture.” Nozaki says, and he begins to doubt the decision. “Girlfriends like wearing their boyfriend’s clothes, right? So, you can wear my sweater. Unless… you don’t want to…”

Chiyo is already shaking her head furiously before he can finish his last sentence. “No, no! I want to!” She insists quickly, and she pulls it over her head, standing up to adjust it around her body.

It goes down to her knees and her arms barely make it halfway through the sleeves, but she smiles as if she just been bestowed with diamonds and pulls the hood up over her head, laughing when it flops over her eyes and obscures Nozaki from view. He chuckles and pushes the hood back so her eyes aren’t covered at absent mindedly pats her head. She smiles and tucks her hands into the pocket, grinning at him as she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Well?” She asks, giving him a spin. “How do I look? Does it suit me?”

Nozaki looks her up at down. “You look small.” He says.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m small anyway.”

“But… you look cute,” He adds and Chiyo falls silent, her cheeks going pink. “My clothes suit you.”

Chiyo smiles and brings the neck of the hoodie up to her nose, hiding the bottom half of her face in it. “You’re sweet,” she tells him. “In a sort of shoujo-manga kinda way.”

Nozaki has the tack to look sheepish. “I… may have taken tips on how to confess to you from shoujo manga.” He admits and though Chiyo sighs, she’s still smiling; Nozaki’s awkwardness in anything that isn’t romance manga is endearing. “But it worked. So, who says that manga is entirely inaccurate?”

Chiyo laughs and smothers the sound with the sleeve of Nozaki’s sweatshirt. “I guess you’re right.” She says, sitting back beside him on the sofa, swinging her legs idly. “How did you know that strawberry cheesecake was my favorite?” She asks him.

“You mentioned it to me,” Nozaki tells her. “We were sitting doing work and talking about your birthday. You were complaining about how the bakery had ran out of your favorite cheesecake so you couldn’t get a slice after school.” He quickly explains after noticing Chiyo’s look of confusion. “I… remembered.”

She blinks up at him, her heart fluttering in her chest. “I… don’t even remember that,” she admits quietly. “Why did you remember that? I mean! It was a lovely surprise, I’m just curious.”

Nozaki shrugs a little and leans back on the sofa. “I love you,” he says, and it never ceases to make her heart squeeze a little in her chest and leave a smile curling on her lips. “I remember things about the people I love.”

Chiyo nods and makes a noise of acknowledgement, smiling happily to herself. She glances at Nozaki and the way he’s casually leaning against the arm of the sofa and thinks fleetingly about leaning into his arms and curling up on top of his body, but the thought quickly leaves her as he glances down at her and she looks away, cheeks on fire.

Nozaki looks at her a moment and then opens him arms towards her wordlessly. She looks at him. “Do you want me to get something for you?” She asks nervously, unsure of what Nozaki was trying to tell her.

“No.” He says, and he opens his arms a little wider, turning his body towards her.

“Are you cold?” She asks, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are your arms open like that?”

Nozaki looks at her. “You want to cuddle, don’t you?” He asks and Chiyo stares at him gob smacked, her mouth hanging open.

Chiyo can’t even begin to describe how… strange it sounds to have a stoic and blunt man such as Nozaki say a word like ‘cuddle’. He stares down at her with the same expression he uses when looking at everything, his arms open for her to fall into, and Chiyo stares right back, feeling so suddenly out of her depth.

Despite her initial shock, she nods. “Yes.” She says, and when she shuffles closer to Nozaki awkwardly and rests her head on his chest, his arms curl around her and she lets out an involuntary sigh, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his shirt. “You’re warm.” She tells him softly.

“Are you cold?” He asks her.

Chiyo considers this. “A little.” She admits and Nozaki immediately wraps the duvet around them both, leaving Chiyo in his arms and being careful that she wasn’t being jostled.

“Better?” He asks her, his arms squeezing her softly.

Chiyo nods and curls closer to the heat of Nozaki’s body, her cheek smooshed against his chest and the warm weight of the duvet against her as Nozaki shuffles into a position where she’s practically curled up on top of him.

She lets out a warm sigh. “Yeah.” She says, allowing her eyes to close.

She feels Nozaki’s hands carding through her hair, fiddling with it gently, and she lets out another sigh. When he chuckles, she feels it in her bones as a warm, shaky feeling, and his chest barely moves. Then his fingers are brushing her cheek, pushing hair from her face and petting her absently.

“Are you falling asleep, Chiyo?” Nozaki asks in bemusement.

Chiyo makes an indignant noise. “No.” She grumbles.

She can almost feel him smiling. “You sound sleepy to me.” He says, letting out an amused puff of air when she makes a non-committal noise. “It’s okay if you are. You can fall asleep if you want.”

“Okay.” She whispers quietly, her hand curling gently over the fabric of his shirt. “Then I will.”

Nozaki hums lowly. “You look so cute when you’re sleepy. You know that?” He asks and Chiyo is so tired out from the evening that she can’t even manage to make a noise as Nozaki gently strokes her cheek. “Sleep tight, I’m right here for you.”

Before Chiyo drifts into the land of dreams she feels the faint weight of Nozaki’s lips on her forehead and the sound of a quiet, whispered ‘I love you’.

She wakes with Nozaki’s arms around her, fast asleep, as his head rests atop hers, and as a smile crosses her lips, she can’t help but lean up and leave a soft kiss against his cheek.

After all, being with Nozaki like this is everything she’s ever dreamed.

#my writing #gekkan shojo #gekkan shojo nozaki-kun #gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun #nozaki umetarou #umetarou nozaki #sakura chiyo #chiyo sakura #nozachiyo #nozaki x chiyo #fluff #gsnk #gsnk fic #gekkan shojo nozaki -kun fic #gekkan shojo nozaki kun #gekkan shojo nozaki kun fic #nozachiyo fic #fanfiction

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gorlkpop · 6 years

Text

Good Love {2jae} Chapter Six

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics (including self-lubrication, heats, ruts, marking, mating, knotting, pack dynamics), boyxboy

pairings: im jaebum x choi youngjae, other pairings

In Youngjae’s eyes, Jaebum was the perfect alpha- handsome, protective, grounded, and took care of his small pack very well. But too bad Jaebum doesn’t think he’s the perfect omega- or any omega, for that matter

or, the one where Jaebum thinks a mate will just be a distraction rather than a blessing

**five**six**seven**

Jaebum didn’t think he could hate himself more than he did at this moment. He went against every promise and oath he had made within himself, completely disregarded who he was and why he was it.

It didn’t make the least bit of sense to him. How could this one omega make him turn against the grain so easily? And, yea, Jaebum could pick up from this predicament that Youngjae, obviously, wasn’t just some omega. He couldn’t explain how, but he knew. Youngjae couldn’t be some omega- it wouldn’t be logical if he wasn’t. No other omega had ever had such a tempting heat. No other omega had broken Jaebum out of his routine. No other person has made Jaebum red in the face with happiness. It was sappy and weird and definitely not who Jaebum saw himself to be.

When his knot had finally shrunk enough for him to pull out of the omega without waking him, he awkwardly did so. He had hurried and put on his clothes and stealthy walked out of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

As he carefully made his way towards the front door, he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Jaebum closed his eyes, cursing to himself. He prayed the omega hadn’t woken up and caught him. That would be awkward. It could’ve only been one person- whom Jaebum knew, probably, wasn’t very fond of him right about now.

“Where are you going?” Mark’s voice cut through the silence. Jaebum let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t that much better that it was Mark, but it really was.

“Home.” Jaebum was still facing the door.

He hears Mark sigh. “We should... talk.”

“About what? There’s nothing t-“

“You and I both know there is,” Mark sounded irritated and like he wasn’t going to let Jaebum leave that easily. Jaebum turned to face the beta. “He’s too… easy when it comes to you. You know that right?”

Jaebum just looked at him, face unmoving and emotionless. What did he mean by that?

“Come with me.” Mark stated walking towards the living room, opening the sliding door that led to the balcony. Jaebum followed, reluctantly. He wanted to go home. To the safety of his own pack- where he knew he was wanted.

The beta was leaning against the railing, looking toward the city. Jaebum stood next to him.

“He’s had the biggest crush on you since forever,” Mark started. “He had complete heart eyes for you. I never understood why.”

“He doesn’t now?” Jaebum’s heart felt a little heavy at that thought.

“Oh, please, of course he does,” Mark scoffed. “It sickens me how head over heels he is for you. It’s not fair to him.”

“Why… How is not fair?”

“Because you don’t care.”

Jaebum was ready to defend himself. How dare Mark say that? Who was he? He didn’t know anything. He had no right to say Jaebum didn’t care. He opened his mouth to protest, but Mark quickly spoke up. “He’s spent his whole college career with his eyes on you 24/7. He’s looked at no one else for affection but you. And it’s absolutely ridiculous. He’s such a beautiful omega, a sweetheart, the sun that shines when nothing else does. He deserves everything. But he doesn’t want everything. He’s always only wanted you.”

Jaebum didn’t know how to feel. If his heart was heavy before, it weighs a thousand tons now. There was lump in his throat, and it’s not that he wanted to cry; but because, in some weird way, Mark’s word had too much weight to them that Jaebum wasn’t ready to carry. He wanted to say something, but closed his mouth when he realized there was nothing for him to say.

“I say you don’t care because that what it looks and feels like- at least to me. He means alot to me. We’ve always been there for each other. And you probably don’t care, but he… he, at one point, really was the sun when the sky was dark, for me.” Mark paused. Jaebum turned his head to look at him, but the beta was turned the other way. Jaebum looked back forward.

“You never even glanced his way. You were always wrapped up in your own head- too oblivious. It was the little things he did for you. He would always come home and go on and on about you smiling at the note he left on the piano in the practice room. Or how whenever he brought desserts for the music classes, he’d make sure the teacher gave you the strawberry shortcake. And then he’d complain about how that one time he brought peach cobbler and you hadn’t eaten any by the end of the day. How ironic,” Jaebum smiled sourly. “But he alway, always, did something for you. And you never as so much gave him a look. He looked pathetic to everyone for you. And I told him to stop so many times. But he was so happy whenever you reacted to his… gifts. I shouldn’t have let him continue.”

It was silent. The air wasn’t tense, but something else. Whatever it was, was putting Jaebum in a somber mood. He couldn’t understand why Mark was telling him these things, confiding in him about this.

“If you want me to leave him alone… then I will.” Jaebum didn’t realize what had poured out his mouth before it was too late.

Mark looked at him with alert eyes. “Don’t you dare do that. I have almost enough nerve to push you back into his room and help him with rest of his heat.”

Jaebum’s could feel the blood rushing to his face. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Do you… do you think you imprinted on him?”

“That doesn’t happen nowadays. We’re not like our ancestors.”

“Just because it doesn’t happen often doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen at all. Whenever I think about why he would vie after you so strongly, I can only think that he imprinted on you or vice versa. If it was just a crush he would’ve out grown it by now.”

“I don’t know much about imprinting. I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel.”

“No one does,” Mark sighs, resting his head against the palm of his hand. “I don’t hate you, Jaebum. But you make it hard to like you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

Jaebum sighed. He looked down at all the people walking on the sidewalk. “I don’t want to ruin him. I don’t know why I don’t like to admit it, but… Youngjae means more to me than I can comprehend. I wish he didn’t.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It is, but it’s the truth. Like you said, he deserves everything and some. I don’t thi-“

“If you’re planning to say you can’t give him that, you are utterly mistaken, young sire. What he wants is what he deserves. He’s been a good enough person to have that; he been more than a good person.”

It was Jaebum’s turn to look away. This all sucked. This weird, deep conversation he was having with Mark was the last thing he expected to happen. He didn’t even know Mark all that well, and it threw Jaebum off that he trusted Mark so easily. Maybe it was because the beta had trusted him. Mark told him things that gave Jaebum a new perspective- one from an outsider looking in. One who knew Youngjae better than Youngjae knew himself. If anyone knew what would be best for Youngjae, Jaebum was sure it was Mark, if it wasn’t the omegas parents themselves.

And Jaebum cherished this conversation with Mark. The older man was more introspective than Jaebum thought- and for that, he was silently grateful. He told him things Youngjae would probably never dare to disclose or acknowledge. Jaebum found himself finding it a little unfair to Youngjae that he now knew more about the younger than Youngjae knew about Jaebum. In all their shared conversations, they had shared equal amounts of information about themselves. Their conversations had all been safe and, for the most part, trivial. But now Jaebum was ahead and that was freaky. Jaebum didn’t want to feel like Youngjae wasn’t on the same level as him. He couldn’t explain it.

Maybe because, now, he knows that in more ways than one, he had been unfair to Youngjae longer than he hasn’t.

“I’m not… Just because he wants and deserves me doesn’t mean I deserve him.” Jaebum confessed.

“Who hurt you?” Mark turned his body fully towards Jaebum. “I don’t know your story, and I don’t really care for it right now, but if it’s you Youngjae wants, then it’s you Youngjae deserves. You have flaws and demons just like the rest of us. I may seem to put Youngjae on a high perch as the sun and whatnot, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely unscathed. He has his baggage. I’m sure you do, too. If you want him, and he wants you… then have him. And take care of him.”

Mark walked away, leaving the sliding door open. Before he went to far, he turned back and gazed at Jaebum. An emotion shined in his eyes for a long second, but Jaebum couldn’t make out what exactly Mark was conveying. That frustrated him a bit.

“If you decide to leave, come back. Care about him a little more.”

Jaebum left their apartment. He promised himself he’d come back. Besides, if he didn’t promise himself, Jaebum knew he’d come eventually.

Youngjae’s heat went by faster than he thought. It was considerably harder not having a companion to fuck him through it, but the easy part was over.

Youngjae wasn’t one to be embarrassed by the fact that he was completely heartbroken. He wore his heart halfway showing on his sleeve, but with Jaebum, it was always on full display.

The omega had enough sense to admit to himself that, Yes, he was sorely hurt by Jaebum’s absence when he woke up. He could admit that the thought of Jaebum knotting him over and over was what got him through his heat. He could, also, admit that he was mad at himself for thinking about Jaebum every waking moment after.

It was his natural, and first, reaction to be angry and lonely. And, yea, it did occur to him that Jaebum’s mind was clouded by his heat just as much as his own; but Jaebum got to leave with no repercussions to his part in Youngjae’s hurt. A malicious part of Youngjae wanted to hate the alpha. That part of him wanted Youngjae to show up at Jaebum’s door step and just give Jaebum a taste of his own medicine. But, the better part of him couldn’t, wouldn’t do that.

So, he toughed out the trip to the school in Nevada with a smile on his face. He helped present the sister school program to the American school easily as if he did it everyday. No one on the trip had said anything about him seeming off, so Youngjae counted it as a win for not letting Jaebum ruin the trip for him.

Youngjae didn’t want Jaebum to be the one ruin things.

School would be resuming two weeks after Youngjae returned from America. He and Mark put in their temporary resignation for working at the cafe for the season, which was routine for the past couple of years. Only thing different this time was that Mark wouldn’t be returning to work at the cafe. It was his last year at the university; at least of what his scholarship paid for.

When Youngjae and Mark had left their bosses office, Youngjae couldn’t help but look at the schedule on the wall. Jaebum was clocked in, probably working with the dogs in the back right now. It was a fact that Youngjae missed Jaebum. He wanted to go and talk to him. He wasn’t angry anymore. He’s learned from their past falling outs that it was always easily resolved when they just talked to each other. It irritated Youngjae how big the whole in his heart felt because Jaebum wasn’t around. Did Jaebum feel the same? Was he having a hard time? Probably not. If he was hurting, he would’ve came to Youngjae by now. But Youngjae hadn’t gone to Jaebum, either.

The omega was tempted to go and show face. He wanted to see Jaebum.

Mark tugged his arm before he could entertain the idea anymore.

It was a week and half before school started when he talked to Jaebum again.

Youngjae was at the park that was placed in the middle of his apartment complex. It was spacious enough for kids to play and dogs, too. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it was just enough for the residents living in the apartments.

He was just sitting with his precious Coco, enjoying the nice weather. Youngjae felt bad the past couple of days for leaving the puppy inside the house often lately. He and Mark both have been busy getting their schedules and such ready for school that they neither of them have had a moment to spend some quality time with Coco. It probably looked and sounded silly for Youngjae to attach such lively emotions like loneliness to the dog, but that’s who Youngjae was. He had been feeling lonely lately, himself; and who better to cheer him up (besides Mark) than Coco, herself?

Youngjae layed on his back, looking up at the bright, cloudy sky. Coco was sprawled out by his side, bathing in the sun. Youngjae had taken a few photos of her and uploaded them on his sns accounts. Of course, they received tons of love.

The omega felt peaceful. The background noise of kids playing on the big toy, wind lightly breezing by, the mumble of traffic on the street- it was all soothing. The sky was pretty, too. Youngjae had been looking up at it for maybe half an hour now and he had found all sorts of shapes and faces and words. It distracted from the hurt he felt in his heart. Youngjae felt good.

Then, Youngjae smelled something different in the air. Something familiar. The scent grew closer. Youngjae was too lazy to turn his head and look for who the particular scent could belong to; so he closed his eyes instead to focus on recognizing the scent. And by the time the owner of the scent had sat down next to him, Youngjae finally pinpointed who the scent belonged to.

Fucking Im Jaebum. Youngjae let out the deepest sigh in his life.

“I… How have you been?” Jaebum began after a silent greeting passed by them. Youngjae didn’t respond verbally, but he opened his eyes and made eye contact with the alpha.

Jaebum got the message. “Stupid question, I know. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Youngjae sat up, crossing his legs.He was facing the opposite way of Jaebum, still having a clear view of his face. They were facing each other. “I hope you realize that you have quite a lot of apologizing to do.”

“I do,” Jaebum looked down at his lap. “I know I probably hurt you in more ways than one-”

“You didn’t physically hurt me, if that’s what you were afraid-”

“That’s not what I meant.” the older of the two said with frustrations laced in his voice, cheeks tinted at what the omega had implied. “I just need you to let me talk right now. I’ve been listening to everyone else lately and I just need to let you know what’s going on. You deserve that much and some. And I want to talk- to you. I want you to know.”

Youngjae looked at him for long moment. Youngjae had planned to be the one talking the next time he saw Jaebum. But, Youngjae wanted to know. Jaebum left him with a lot of unanswered questions that he was dying to have answered. Youngjae decided that maybe Jaebum would answer these questions. Youngjae decided to listen.

“Okay. I’ll listen.”

Jaebum looked up at the younger in surprise. “Really?”

“Did you expect me to say ‘no’?”

“No, I just- I thought… nevermind. It’s not important.” Jaebum shook his head. He breathed in and out before he started to talk. “You mean alot to me, Youngjae. It sounds silly and ridiculous, but it’s true. I don’t know how to explain it or how to feel about it, really. It’s really… new for me. I don’t know how to handle all these new feelings or how to handle you.”

“I’m too much?”

Jaebum widened his eyes. “No! That’s not what I meant,” he calmed himself. “I don’t want to fuck it up, for a lack of better terms. I’ve been in a relationship before but none of them started from feelings like the ones I have for you. It doesn’t make sense when I say them out loud, but it’s true.” Jaebum could sit here for hours and talk about how he didn’t understand his own newfound feelings for the omega next to him, but he had another reason for being here, he reminded himself.

“I’m sorry, Youngjae. For leaving you… and not coming back.”

Youngjae wasn’t expecting this. He didn’t think Jaebum was going to apologize; or bare his feelings so easily.

“You did come back.”

“Not soon enough.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Youngjae huffed. Of course he’d go against the devil on his shoulder telling him to stay to his true feelings. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to not have heard from you after you, uhm, helped me. It broke my heart. I won’t lie.”

“I figured as much. I didn’t expect it to, but, it hurt me, too.”

“I can find it in my heart to forgive you- just a small, little bit. But I don’t trust you anymore.”

That hurt more than anything to hear, for Jaebum.

“I want… I want to try. I won’t understand this on my own- us, I mean. Can we try?”

Youngjae had a small smile on his face. “We can.”

“Bammie, you’ll be alright.” Jinyoung petted the young omegas hair, comfortingly. Bambam currently had his face stuffed in Jinyoung’s chest, eyes red and puffy, and nose runny. There was a wet patch where he was laying, and Jinyoung would complain about it if it weren’t for the vulnerable state Bambam was in.

At first, after Bambam’s last heat, it seemed like things could only go up. The omega was back to his normal self, if not, surprisingly, happier. He was back to causing trouble with his one and only partner-in-crime, Yugyeom (of course, they made up after the whole heat debacle. they also died each other’s hair. Bambam a bright red, Yugyeom a bright yellow. Ketchup and Mustard, respectively.). No one in the pack really thought twice about Bambam’s switch that seemed to flip; except for Jinyoung.

He ignored his own inner voice telling him that it was abnormal for Bambam to jump from A to Z so quickly. He was always very skeptical and cynical about everything, so Jinyoung dismissed himself. Obviously, his gut was telling him right- that he should have been worried about Bambam’s abrupt change in behavior.

Because here they were: Bambam suddenly feeling… sad, again. About what? Jinyoung didn’t know. He’d been gone all day. And when he came home, asked Jackson where Bambam was and got the reply “he’s been in his room all day”, Jinyoung was perplexed. Then he knocked on the omegas door. He got no response, so he welcomed himself in and found Bambam sitting on the floor, head against the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, tears silently falling down his face. Jinyoung called his name and got no response. Out of instinct, the older bent down and cuddled the omega, who quietly burst into tears.

And that’s how they ended up here, for the last hour.

Jinyoung didn’t ask any questions. Although he had a million and one, it wasn’t appropriate. He stayed silent the whole time, theorizing in his head way could possibly be going on with the red headed omega in his arms. He had some conclusions that seemed mostly, possibly right- but he wouldn’t assume anything. He needed to talk to Bambam, but he was too sensitive right now.

Every time he’d ask Bambam the simplest of questions, he’d get either a sniffle or silence as an answer. He wanted to be frustrated with the boy, but Jinyoung was too empathetic for that right now.

“Bambam-ah,” Jinyoung cooed. “Have you eaten today?”

Bambam shook his head after letting out a couple of sniffles. Jinyoung sighed. It had to be past five by now. “We should go eat.”

Bambam shook his head.

“Why not? You’ve been dormant and in this room for quite awhile. You must be starving.”

Bambam didn’t respond at all. Jinyoung sighed, again.

Jinyoung retreated back to rubbing the omegas back and shoulders as they cuddled, noting to ask again in another twenty minutes.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. Jinyoung let them know it was okay to come in. He could smell the familiar alpha peppermint smell coming from behind the door.

“Hey,” Jaebum smiled, peeking into the dark room. “How are you guys doing? What’s going on?” The alpha didn’t sound intrusive. His voice was soft and curious. Jackson must’ve told him that something was very wrong.

Jinyoung gave a tired smile. “Bambam is.. not feeling so well. I’ve been with him for awhile now.” Jinyoung was tired. Not of Bambam, but just in general. His butt was numb from laying in one spot on the bed for so long, his eyes kept drooping closed, but he’d open them when he caught himself dozing off. Jinyoung wanted to be awake and there for Bambam if in the case he needed something.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaebum approached the bed. He sat down next to where Bambam’s legs were resting. The alpha hesitated to rub his hands over the omegas legs for comfort. He looked up at Jinyoung, mouthing “is he nesting?”

Jinyoung shook his head. It didn’t seem like he was nesting, at least.

“Bambam-ah… it’s Jaebum-hyung.” Jaebum whispered. Bambam shifted just the slightest bit to get a better view of the new person in the room. “What’s going on, Bammie?”

Bambam just stared at him. Jinyoung sighed for the hundredth time.

“I don’t know.”

Jinyoung and Jaebum both looked at Bambam, surprised. Jinyoung was surprised because he’s been here a whole hour poking for a verbal response from the omega; and he responded to Jaebum’s one, simple question? Hell no. Completely not fair.

Jinyoung cleared his throat, which was extremely dry, and nodded toward Jaebum- a silent plea to continue coaxing Bambam into talking. Jaebum nodded back.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I wanna go home, b-but I don’t wanna leave…” Bambam started to hiccup toward the end of his sentence. Jinyoung smoothed his hand down his back.

“Do you wanna go visit your mom?”

“...Maybe?” Bambam sniffled into Jinyoung's neck, looking desperately for the familiar rosey scent. He and Jinyoung both had earthy scents, so naturally, Bambam found comfort in Jinyoung’s arms.

“Okay,” Jaebum nodded. “Let’s get you something to eat, run a bath, then sleep, Yeah? We can go visit her first thing tomorrow.” Jaebum patted Bambam’s leg in encouragement.

Jinyoung sat up, lifting the red head with him. Bambam curled more into Jinyoung, but he didn’t protest him sitting up.

Jinyoung mouthed to Jaebum to go get him something to eat and that he could handle it from here. Jaebum left the room soon after, leaving Jinyoung alone with Bambam. He looked down at where the omega had stuffed his face in the crook of Jinyoung’s shoulder, taking deep breaths, hiccuping every now and then. Jinyoung let him collect himself, keeping his arms around him, rubbing up and down, leaving small kisses on the top of his head. It took maybe a few minutes for Bambam to rise and show his face, which was puffy and red and wet all over. Jinyoung brushed his hands over the youngest face to rid some of the lone tears on his face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Jinyoung’s heart ached a bit to see Bambam so sad. He wanted to take whatever pain he had away. But he couldn’t; not if he didn’t know what was going on in the young omegas head. The unknown of such worries the older the more he thought about it.

Jinyoung ran a bath for Bambam, and sat outside the door, per Bambam’s request. He helped him get dressed and make his way to the kitchen, keeping an arm around Bambam’s shoulders. Jinyoung’s motherly, omega instincts wanted him to feed the grown pup in front of him, but he sat on his hands to resist. He reminded himself that Bambam could very well feed himself and wasn’t completely broken.

It was obvious Bambam had little to no appetite; by the time they had been sitting at the table for twenty minutes, Bambam had only eaten two full spoonfuls of the stew Jaebum warmed up for him. Jinyoung was progressively becoming more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know what was happening or how to help the omega. He didn’t want to poke and prod or force Bambam to give him answers, so he all he could do was worry.

“Bambam-ah,” Jinyoung cleared his throat. Bambam looked up at him. “I… I love you and I’ll always be here for you. We all will. I’ll never judge you or shun you. I’ll always support you, no matter what. Come to me, whenever. Okay?” Jinyoung hoped the reassurance would reach Bambam.

Bambam nodded his head, and looked back down at his still full bowl.

“Say it out loud.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

Bambam looked into Jinyoung’s eyes. “Okay. I know and I understand.”

Jinyoung cuddled Bambam to sleep that night. Bambam was grateful he did.

“... so, yeah, I guess we’re cool now.” Youngjae finished explaining to Mark how his day went, of course skipping everything else and told him straight away that he and Jaebum talked today.

Mark looked at Youngjae, saying a million words in his expression. Three of them being “are you serious?”. They were sitting on the floor in their small living room, eating take out on their coffee table, some French movie playing in the background (which didn’t make sense because neither of them spoke French. Whatever).

Mark only let out a deep sigh and tossed his food around with his chopsticks a bit, acting as if Youngjae hadn’t just told him a whole story. Youngjae knew what Mark was doing.

“Hey,” Youngjae smacked the betas arm, “What’s wrong?”

Mark made a noise, “Nothin.”

“Hyung, it’s obviously something.”

“Yeah,” Mark sighed, “It is something- but it’s nothing haven’t told you before. You’ll do what you wanna do anyways.” Mark slouched back against the couch. He sounded dejected at the end of his sentence and Youngjae wouldn’t let him end the conversation that early.

“Then tell me what’s wrong. Do you not like him or something? I thought you guys got along, but if that’s not the case, we can all-“

“That’s not it, Youngjae-yah.” Mark slammed his chopsticks down, causing Youngjae to flinch at the sudden outburst.

“What is it?” Youngjae’s small voice cut through the silence, shaking near the end.

Mark took a deep breath. He was starting to turn the very lightest shade of pink. Mark seldom got angry, so Youngjae was understandably a little worried on what was making the beta so upset.

“You two are so… I’m not saying to not be together or whatever but your feelings and attitude towards him is so… so malleable. It’s scary.” Mark looked back up at Youngjae. Youngjae looked away.

“It’s not healthy, Youngjae-yah. It’s not. I know he’s all you’ve ever wanted and I’ve told you before to be careful- and every time, you said that you would be. And now that he’s here, in you life or whatever, you’re not being careful. You’re acting desperate.”

“I am not desperate,” Youngjae whipped back.

Seeming desperate was Youngjae’s number one insecurity. He grew up looking for subtle praise from everybody. It was a low point about himself that only few understood about him. Mark was one of them.

“How dare you say I’m desperate? That’s so mean, hyung.” The omega swallowed a lump in his throat. It hurt for one of his favorite people in the world to take such a low blow.

Mark widened his eyes in realization. “Youngjae-yah, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize wha-“

“No, I know exactly what you were saying,” Youngjae huffed. Mark was making him mad. “Instead of just opening my legs for him, should I have multiple coming in and out the door, like a certain somebody? That way I don’t seem thirst for only his attention? Huh?”

Youngjae had no idea where that came from. He didn’t think he was that angry or defensive.

Youngjae felt stupid. Now he was the one taking low blows. He took the lowest blow.

The omega slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide and staring at the beta next to him. Mark was staring back, eyes slowly glazing over, lips shaking. They both couldn’t believe what had come out the youngers mouth. The room was dead silent, the french movie playing silent credits, both boys breathing heavily. Youngjae’s heart was pounding with how scared he was. Of what? Nothing particular, besides the fact that this feeling between the two, the tension and disbelief, had never existed before.

None of their arguments had ever escalated so quickly. Or been so personal.

Mark was the first one to move. He stood up and turned to walk towards the door. Youngjae followed him, muttering “I’m sorry”’s to the older, but they fell on deaf ears. Mark slipped his shoes on, said “don’t bother calling”, and left Youngjae staring at the door he had just exited through.

Youngjae had never felt a heartbreak so crushing like this. His best friend, his brother, had just walked out on him. This was different from the other times. The other times were planned and with the promise that he’d come back. That promise didn’t exist here. Mark left because Youngjae didn’t think before he spoke. Because he was so defensive when all Mark was doing was what he was supposed to do; be there for Youngjae. All Mark did was care. And what did Youngjae do? He said “fuck you” to Marks face and now Mark was gone- all because of Youngjae.

Youngjae didn’t bother calling the beta. He did cry himself to sleep, in front of their door. He did wake up the next morning to Coco licking his face. He didn’t smile. He was sad. He wanted Mark to come back.

sooo... whatcha think?? :))

#2jae #2jae fanfic #2jae fic #2jae smut #im jaebum #choi youngjae #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #got7 #good love #mark tuan #park jinyoung #jackson wang #bambam #kim yugyeom

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toushindai · 7 years

Text

Inches Apart and Far Away

Fermet stops by one of Huey’s labs to visit him unexpectedly. This is fine.

(cn: dissociation, and Fermet thinks boundaries only exist to be crossed)

[ Read on AO3 ]

The game is familiar enough by now to be almost meaningless. Fermet drops by Huey’s laboratory, unannounced but somehow managing to pinpoint a day that Huey is here in person. In the space of a millisecond, anything Huey might have felt about his sudden appearance is gone, subsumed behind the empty smile of a puppet. Fermet, too, displays nothing but a smile, and if he’s ever disappointed that he fails to break Huey’s composure, Huey has never been able to tell.

“Have you made any progress on the homunculi?” Fermet asks cordially, after greetings are exchanged.

“Considerable progress,” Huey answers in the same easy tone. “It seems that Szilard has a tendency to get bogged down in focusing on our immortality and its implications rather than considering other paths to his goals, and I don’t find myself similarly limited. That said, his research provided an invaluable starting point, so I thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome! I was eager to see what you could do with it. In fact, I brought you some updated information.”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a handful of papers, which Huey accepts. A simple skim of the handwritten notes reveals that little of it is particularly noteworthy or new. Fermet must know this as well; and so the goal of his visit must lie elsewhere. Huey flips the first page back into place and turns his empty smile to Fermet once more. “I appreciate it. Would you like to see what I’ve been doing? It seems only fair to share the fruits of my labor with you. And I’ve encountered a puzzle that I would like your help in addressing.”

The last statement is practical and utterly honest; Fermet’s mind works faster than his in some ways, and his insights into Huey’s alchemical research have proven helpful before. And so, as they walk together down the hall, Huey explains the roadblock he’s run into. Fermet ponders for only a moment before he taps his lower lip with one finger and tells Huey what he’s overlooked. It sounds painfully obvious when he says it. But Huey is already too busy figuring out how to incorporate this insight to waste any time in embarrassment.

The first time their hands brush against each other, Huey only apologizes demurely and keeps walking, shifting his course slightly to put a few more inches between them. The second time, it occurs to him that the physical contact may be deliberate. The third time, Fermet’s hand lingers against his for longer than can possibly be accidental. Huey glances over. Fermet’s smile only widens.

Huey’s head creaks to the side like an automaton’s. “What are you scheming this time, Fermet?”

With the accusation in the air, Fermet confirms it by taking Huey’s hand properly. He laces their fingers together, his skin surprisingly cool in the muggy air of the hallway. To Huey’s credit, he does not freeze. He refuses the rage and revulsion he could have felt; he stifles whatever it is that rises in his throat as a thick, sour lump. His smile remains, as though his question and Fermet’s response are both trivial things. He reminds himself: compared to the one thing that matters, they are trivial.

Fermet’s lips curve in a gentle smile. “I’m not scheming,” he says serenely, his thumb tracing over Huey’s. “I’m just very happy to be here and see you again. I really do like you, you know—I don’t think I tell you that often enough.”

And Huey believes most of his answer—that Fermet enjoys coming here and taxing Huey’s composure, that he is taking a wicked pleasure in trapping Huey against the wall, that the smile on his face is utterly genuine.

“You’re always scheming something,” is what he says, disregarding the rest. Disregarding the feel of the wall against his back, the protest rising in his mind. His smile stays. He does not flinch, even as Fermet lifts a hand to his cheek. A flash of memory passes through his mind and he closes it out of the way, refusing to let the past associate itself with the present. He doesn’t push Fermet away. He won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not scheming,” Fermet lies again. His voice is soft, but still edged with the unholy delight that defines him. He trails soft fingertips down Huey’s jawbone. “Do my affections bother you, Huey?”

Huey answers with a shrug. “I admit I find myself confused,” he answers. “I’m not unaware that you still like to toy with me, but I did think I had ceased to be your ‘type’ a long time ago. Surely you realize that I intend to abuse and twist whatever life I manage to create. Don’t you prefer innocents?”

“I don’t mind. I just think of the sweet little boy you used to be.” Fermet’s smile widens. “Besides, am I not allowed to appreciate your work? No one else will.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“No?” Fermet’s fingers trace Huey’s thin throat. He is leaning closer than Huey wants him to be, as close as he must have been on that day one hundred years ago, and leering. “Are you really as disaffected as you pretend, Huey? What do you think of me? Am I just a lab rat gone rogue?”

“Rogue?” Huey answers, his voice comfortably mechanical and strangely far away. “Do you really think this is enough of a surprise to qualify for that?”

“Ooh, you mean you expected this?”

A shrug, again. “I ought to have, perhaps.”

“And have you ever wanted it?” Fermet tilts his head, his eyes visible through his bangs for just a moment as his hair shifts. They’re predatory and malicious. But when his hair settles back into place, the shape of his smile looks gentle. “You’re lonely, aren’t you, Huey?”

Huey lets him talk.

“With Monica dead and that disgusting Smile Junkie off doing god knows what, I’m the only one who knows what you really care about. The only one who can sympathize with you, who can meet you at your intellectual level.”

He isn’t wrong, not really; Huey’s known that since that morning at the docks.

“Hm.” Fermet’s smile grows tender and his hand slips around the back of Huey’s neck to pull him forward. Suddenly Huey’s pulse is beating against Fermet’s palm and the blood is pounding in his ears and before Fermet’s smile can come any closer his hand rushes up and snatches Fermet’s jaw, wrenching it aside. Fermet’s jaw dislocates with a hollow pop and Huey shoves him backwards.

And then he is in control of himself again. He takes a shallow breath, then a deep one, and a rueful smile decorates his lips. “I suppose I lose,” he confesses, slowing his heart by sheer force of will.

Fermet only laughs, rubbing his jaw as it shifts back into place. He’s gotten a rise out of Huey, and that’s what he wanted. That’s what he’s been after the whole time. “You’re such a tease, Huey. I thought you might honestly let me kiss you.”

“So sorry to disappoint.”

“Liar.”

“I suppose we suit each other in that regard.”

It’s not the wisest thing to say right now, no matter how true it is; Fermet bares his teeth like an animal that’s cornered its prey, all pretense of gentleness gone. He doesn’t reach for Huey again, but he doesn’t need to. Even without seeing his eyes, Huey knows that they must be bright and possessive and as inescapable as time itself.

But he hasn’t made any effort to trap Huey against the wall again, so it is a simple matter to slip away from him and proceed down the hallway. Fermet’s gaze does not really touch his back like a physical thing, he knows; it only feels that way.

“Did you still want to see the homunculi?” he asks.

“They aren’t finished, you said?” Fermet asks in return, nominally accepting the change of subject.

“Regrettably, no.” Huey shakes his head. “None of them have awakened to consciousness just yet.”

“If they aren’t conscious, why on earth would I have any interest in them?” Fermet points out. His voice is tinged with delight and malice again.

“Ah, of course. I’ll show you to the exit, then.”

Huey only needs to give his empty smile, and all the non-feeling that accompanies it returns effortlessly. Distantly, or from somewhere deep within himself, he realizes anew how disgusting this personality is and how disgusting he is for slipping so easily back into it. Evil is the word. To speak to Fermet at all, to permit his existence when he wants nothing but to cause suffering to all that he touches, is evil. Huey causes the same suffering, with a more pointed purpose but just as indiscriminately; he is evil even without bringing Fermet into it. These are simple facts. There is no need to feel any emotion about simple facts.

Huey feels nothing at all, which is just as it should be. A century of practice has made it easy.

Fermet hovers for a little longer, keeping Huey from his work. He gossips: about the Dormentaires, about Szilard, about Begg. Huey finds that his mouth moves to ask about Czeslaw, and that Fermet’s reply doesn’t stick in his mind save for the gleam of his teeth as he speaks. That’s fine; he’s only making conversation, anyway.

Finally, Fermet begins to find his non-responsiveness boring. His tone grows more brusque as Huey’s answers grow more disinterested and monosyllabic, and at last he seems to decide that the conversation isn’t worth the effort after all. His smile never wavers, but Huey wonders if it has shifted into a false one.

He does not dwell on the thought, not now.

“Sorry to take up so much of your time,” Fermet says, lying once more.

“Not at all. Your help with the homunculi will surely prove fruitful,” Huey answers, not lying at all.

When Fermet’s hand reaches for his face again, he does not flinch; he only lifts his own hand and pushes it away before it can reach its mark. It is a calmer response than before, but Fermet still seems to count it as a victory for himself. His smile widens.

“I’ll come by again sometime, Huey.”

It is a promise and a threat and a curse all at once. It requires no specially formulated response. Huey’s smile remains painted across his face, like a doll’s.

“Until then, farewell.”

#baccano!#huey laforet #lebreau fermet viralesque #baccano #tou wrote a thing #inches apart and far away #I warned you. I told you I'd try to write something like this and here we are.#fermet february continues WHOOPS #cursed dynamic

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