#It’s tough when your form is just controlled by how you feel your vessel should be

[nomsfaultau]

Prototype dad

[angelkurenai]

Beautifully reckless - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Beautifully reckless

Pairing: Michael!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: lately i just felt like reading a michael!dean fic, and since you're an amazing writer, I'd love to see you write a one shot/imagine with him. so here you go, reader is sam's and dean's friend who is a psychic, and after michael possesses dean, he starts feeling something for her that he never felt before? just some soft michael!dean, please? i love ur fics, they are truly unique and awesome to read

“Took you long enough, you bastard.”

The voice tone, to some extent, took Michael by surprise, to the point he jumped on the spot. Though he would never admit to that. He was used to respect, well, fear actually and he was used to hearing calculated and careful words. It wasn't like he had not been called that many more times before, but that was mostly in his face, and not behind his back (literally) and in such a tone. Not when everyone around him knew better than to push their luck. The fact that he really wasn't still around the people who used to tremble in fear when he was facing them, or not actually, and that he, Michael himself, wasn't entirely the same person as when he was in the Apocalypse world.

“I- Excuse me?” he couldn't stop the words from leaving his lips before he stopped in his steps and turned around to face the source of the voice that was so bold.

Within barely the span of a minute, he found himself being stunned twice... or maybe thrice, but there was barely any time to duel on that. Not in those first few seconds. Not when the sudden giddiness overwhelmed him and his breath came out shakily, as if somebody had just knocked it out of him. What was it that had just happened to him made him frown but his attention was instantly back on you.

The smile on the face of the person standing before him was not a surprise on it's own, seeing how much the sparkling and warm eyes told him that smiling was not a rare occurrence, but rather the fact that he had not expected such a friendly and caring, if the words were even enough to explain it, smile on your face after the way the words had sounded. Or perhaps it had indeed been all him and there had not been a real threat behind those words. He, after all, still kept forgetting that things had changed drastically.

“Let me guess-” the smile turned into a smirk, the teasing kind, the friendly and familiar kind of teasing he had truthfully never been on the receiving end and that sent him off balance “This is payback for those three weeks I stood you up in a row huh? Fair enough, fair enough. You had the right to not show up today either so I suppose I should be grateful you're here. And we're perfectly timed too.”

“Perfectly timed?” he repeated “I actually-” but before he could get to complete his sentence, he felt a pair of arms wrapping around him in what could clearly and very easily be described as a quick hug. It wasn't the long, tight and longing one he might have expected, probably because it hadn't been long since you had last been in touch, however that was not what he really dueled on at that moment. Not something he could duel on that is, not when he had to stop himself from returning the hug himself.

It was an impulse which he could again easily recognize, and even more easily blame on you. Because you had to be the one to blame, there was no other explanation. There was no other way to describe the way his body had just straight up frozen, not in shock but rather eager no less than a puppy (he could never admit to that) to turn to face you, eager to close the distance and eager to take everything in, whether it be by just getting to look at you or by, hopefully (why really?), getting to have you melt in his arms. Though shockingly enough he found himself doing the latter, feelings his muscles relax and a soft breath leave his lips when you were wrapped around him. It was strange, in a frightening way, and he had to push back all those feelings despite how he realized that it was easier to breathe with you there, without any weight resting on his chest. It was you who was responsible, that was easy to understand. What wasn't easy was the why. Why all of a sudden he felt this way with you?

“Gosh, Winchester-” ah yes, how did he not realize it? He was indeed the reason why and Michael hadn't even given his vessel a second thought, not until your eyes locked with his and his heart skipped a beat or two “I'll be able to see an angel's true form before you ever get rid of the green plaid huh?”

“I-” he looked down at himself, well aware that he hadn't had the chance to change Dean's clothes just yet “Funny enough, it was exactly what I had in mind too. Was actually planning on it.”

“Oh finally ready to dress to impress? Hm I wonder how I will be able to spot you next in the crowd. Was lucky this time I suppose.” you pulled away, playful smile ever present.

His eyes narrowed slightly in a way that must have scared his enemies in the past but that held no real threat this time, and maybe that was the most scary part: that he didn't meant it to be, especially to you “And... what makes you think I was actually heading this way?”

“Oh I see.” you placed your hand on your hips, nodding your head with a growing smirk “Feeling bold today. We haven't seen each other in quiet some time and here you come, ready to take me by surprise. I must warn you, though you already know, so I better say remind you-” you took a step closer to him and although he didn't let it show on his face, well, on Dean's face (or so he hoped) that didn't mean he didn't feel the flutter in his chest and the sudden weakness of his knees “You-” you poked his chest with your pointer and he could swear he felt the skin of his vessel start burning there, as if a fire was there that was only spreading “Would find it hard to surprise me, Dean. Not many people can, it's a tough challenge.”

“Well, you might have just done it there. It's time you finally found the right person because I was never one to say no to a challenge.” he felt his own lips form into a smirk, even though he was unable to believe how much he enjoyed seeing the sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Soon followed by the very familiar playfulness he could grow used to. And why shouldn't he? He had his sword, his perfect vessel, and nobody could take that away. He was in full control over Deans body and you clearly had not realized any difference, because apparently for what it mattered, maybe he was a lot like Dean after all- or at least could be, and that was more than enough.

“Bold of you to assume-” you pulled away and he had to stop himself- his vessel from taking a step forward to still be close with you “That it's a game with only one player. Let's see just how easily surprise you can be, Winchester. Feels like after years of friendship I might still be able to learn something new about you.”

“Then it would only be right to warn you I am not that easily taken by su-”

His words would have certainly held more value and determination, if not a chance at convincing you, if his voice had not wavered and, halfway through the sentence, they hadn't been cut off by a far-from-manly yelp that broke through his lips.

Well, if that wasn't a first. Again.

“Yeah, I get it. I get it. You macho man.” you scoffed, but the smirk on your lips was so playful that it almost made him forget what had just happened. Almost. Or maybe just for the moment, because he was sure he had a lot of thinking to do afterwards and maybe a much-needed conversation with his vessel about it.

“I- I didn't-” he blinked, more stunned with himself for reacting this way than anything else.

“'S alright-” you grinned at him in the end “Just, enough talking. Come on, this is no place for that kind of stuff.” you giggled and he got the impression that this wasn't a first for you, so really he ought to be prepared to be surprised in more ways than he could ever imagine.

“Wha- what a-are you-” it was so unlike him but everything about this situation was unlike anything he'd experienced before, he didn't really know what he should consider a normal reaction at this point.

“Wha- what?” you teased, mimicking him “Cat got your tongue, Winchester? Come on, move your pretty ass before they give our table away if we keep talking here.”

And just because he was such a fool for you already, or perhaps out of some inexplicable fear that your table would indeed be given away and you would have to part ways before he got enough of it, he didn't need to be told twice. He followed after you no better than a lost puppy, even if he'd deny it for the rest of his existence, not paying an ounce of attention as he should to the rest of his surroundings. And so, he didn't know what should alarm him more out of the two. The fact that it was easy to let go and relax so easily around you or the fact that he couldn't bring himself to be too far away from you.

Michael was confused. And whenever he was confused, as with anything in his entire existence ever since he was in heaven, he was intrigued. And whenever he was intrigued, he followed the one that interested him. Admittedly it had been centuries, if not ever before in his life, since the one to interest him in this way had been a person, and no less a woman like you.

“Feels like forever, doesn't it?” you breathed out as you both settled into your seats “I shouldn't tell you this but gosh... You're making me so sentimental and weak, Winchester, I'll have to change that somehow. But I have no idea how you do it in the first place, so...” you huffed with, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Good to know.” the easy smile on his lips felt both like his own and not “So I have to keep it up then.” and when he realized he too too much pleasure in your being playful with him, rolling your eyes, he didn't feel like questioning whose pleasure it was.

Your lips parted, and truth was he would have loved nothing more than to hear you tease him again, but he was also thankful for the interruption from the waitress and the moment of silence that followed afterwards, because at least then he had some time to gather his own thoughts, replay any moments that should have struck more than how beautiful your smile was or the way you looked at him.

Well, not him, Dean. But maybe-

“You said...” he started just as you'd given your orders, though he had barely cared about that when the thought crossed his mind “See an angel's true form?”

“Wha- Oh that.” you laughed, shaking your head “I'm not even close to that yet, I'm afraid. Not as much as I'd like but that's only because you're to blame, Winchester. I'm being as careful as I can so as expected things are going slow.”

“You've been... trying?” the confusion, if not the worry, was evident on his face much as he tried to hide it.

“If you say one more time that us psychics are too curious for our own good then I will kick you.” you said and proceeded to do just that under the table with your foot, managing to earn a small groan followed by a warm laugh from Dean.

“You said if. But I didn't say a damn thing!” he protested, still laughing and enjoying (far too much) the innocent shrug you gave him.

“Just taking precautions.” you grinned before you paused for a second too long and looked back up at him again with a softer smile, if he could even call it that, because it didn't reach your eyes not the way it should as he had observed the past couple minutes “I just...” you let a soft sigh “I'm sorry. I've- I know I've made you worry far too many times in the past. Scared you even. And well, you're no better sure, but I'm supposed to be the friend who has the functioning brain cells here and I haven't really lived up to that. I know-” another sigh and he was really starting to feel bothered by how much this seemed to stress you out, more than it stressed him out to keep up the act “I know how much you worry you. I really do. So I promise, even if it's hard for me, that I will hold back if I see things getting out of hand and I'm in danger again.”

The words rang in his ears louder than actual sirens ever could.

“Again?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. He knew he probably looking more accusing than concerned, if not what he felt even more deep down: terrified. And he didn't even know what was more alarming anymore. The way his heart squeezed inside his chest or his palms clenched in order for his body to cope with the fact that his blood had ran cold and the shivers were far too unpleasant.

He didn't like it, he didn't like it one bit and he knew something had to be done about it.

“Figure of speech, I promise. There haven't been any close calls. At least- You know, ever since we last saw each other that is. But that too has been quiet some time. Speaking of which-” the smile returned on your lips and he had almost not realized it was not there until he understood how the uneasiness in his chest was also due to how you looked so distraught “How have things been for you hm? I haven't the slightest idea about what my two idiots have been up to lately. Is Sam alright?”

“Well, he's been... keeping busy, to say the least. Same goes for me. I wouldn't even know where to begin. Think of it as... a multiverse of madness being out there that needs the Winchesters to deal with.” he forced a small smile on his lips but he barely felt it to begin with, even if you were trying to stir the conversation away from any dangerous endeavors you might's recently had. And, truth be told, he couldn't even begin to think of all the times you might've gotten in trouble that weren't because of your own actions. The mere realization of that fact brought another unpleasant shiver down his spine.

“Ah, makes sense. We've been meeting up in this place at least once every week. 'S good though, I suppose, to take a break once in a while.” you gave a soft shrug, resting your chin on your palm and looked at him through your lashes “I am afraid we were both turning into two very sentimental fools, after all. Coming here, in the place we first met, after all these years.” a small laugh escaped your lips but he could hear the nervousness behind it, see how shy you were about it and deep down he loved seeing this side of you as well, if not wonder what else he could possibly do to evoke it “What are we anyway?”

The question did something to him and he soon realized it wasn't really him, but Dean. He couldn't always tell the difference, what with the Winchester being his perfect vessel, but in that moment he could, crystal clear. And once again it piqued his interest.

“Well, I don't know about you but I for one-” he paused to look into your eyes, to try and read some sort of emotion on your eyes that he might miss otherwise “Don't think I mind so much. Hell, I'll take pride in being always a fool for you.”

To see the way your eyes widened and your back straightened in surprise. Surprise that the words were said out loud or that they were said and were straight to the point, he couldn't tell. What he could tell was that you were not used to this and it was a good thing because things were changing and in a way this should too.

“Ah Dean, whatever happened to you these past months?” you looked away from him when you snapped out of the shock you were in, not that the small forced laugh was any indicator but the fact that you still felt stunned if not shy. You shook your head “Have some mercy on my poor heart, will you? Don't say things like that so carelessly.”

“I'm not being careless. If anything... I'm being honest.” and doing an incredible job at not showing how much that scares me but he couldn't really say that out loud and he knew “Besides, you were the one who started it.”

“Well, yes but actually no. This is what we do, Dean, you can't just go and- and be so... open about it. We-” a nervous laugh that he found too adorable for his poor heart's sake, well Dean's actually but it felt all the same at that moment “What was it that Sam called it? Uh yes, we're both too emotionally constipated to function like proper humans.”

“We don't talk about it remember?” you added in almost a whisper voice, making Michael wonder what was really there more than your playful banter and the way his vessel's heart couldn't rest for a minute “Besides, I know you're not as cool about it as you'd like to think. I can see it all over your face, so stop pretending Winchester.” you huffed, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest, and he realized maybe he had underestimated you.

“And that is supposed to mean... what exactly?” he couldn't help the edge his voice took, too many years, centuries that felt an eternity, had taken their toll on him.

“Well, many things actually. But what matters most right now is one...” you tilted your head to the side, a soft expression on your face which stunned him momentarily “There's something on your mind.” it was a statement the left no room for debate “Wanna talk about it?”

The mere sincerity and care in your words were too much to believe in this entirely unprecedented event, and so it was no surprise when the words got stuck in his throat and his mind went entirely bank. Despite the lump that was stuck in his throat, despite how hard it was to swallow it over, the words in the very end formed before he could even comprehend it. And they were some of the most honest ones he'd spoke in a long time “Do I?” he questioned, mostly himself without any expectations for an answer “Funny...”

“What's funny about it?” naturally, though, you didn't hold back. It was clear that no matter how well you could read him, no matter how he was an open book to you, you wanted to know more of him. But which him was the real question.

Michael couldn't even remember when it was the last time that someone cared to know about him. Him, and not whoever had granted him access to wear around. Him, and not whatever face he had. Him, and how he felt. Him, and how he he thought. Him, and why he had done everything he did, what had led him to it and how he felt about it. It was a scary thought and feeling. Scary to hope there could be someone that would look past all of those layers, all that the eyes could see, and try to understand him. Scary that he wanted it, even more. Scary that after all this time, at the most tumultuous time and as he was in the right path to his goals, he felt the need for something so deep. Scary that it could lead him away from said path.

Who was even that reckless to try any of it though? Who could so carelessly approach him and-

“Nothing.” the question answered itself “It's just amusing how... strange it sounds to hear someone ask me if I wanna talk about what troubles me, after all this time. But-” he said as fast as he could, the second he saw you frown in worry “We have plenty of time to talk about that and I promise we will. Later. For now-” he grinned, leaning back in his seat “Seeing an angel's true form huh? That's quiet reckless, you know. If not stupid and careless...”

“Yeah, I know, I was just throwing out the idea that I might-”

“But also fun.” he added before you could get to complete your sentence, enjoying the way that after your frown a smile light up your face once he added with a smirk “Want any help with that?”

[catboylupin]

I was curious what is it about Remus that draws yourself and others in? I ask this as someone who identifies so much with him and it’s endlessly fascinating to me what drew him to people and others interpretations of him. How do you see him?

you see, remus is my little meow meow. also:

i think the werewolf thing is endlessly generative and can be analogous to many things. he is basically a vessel for exploring what it means to be human, wrestling the beast within, i am the thing? is the thing me? am i seperate from the thing? etc. you can use lycanthropy as a conduit to interrogate gender and shame and disability and assimilation and liberation. basically this post and this post and this

feels like some ungodly evil thing. sometimes he is ok with that.

he wants nothing more than to be loved/ have friends but at the same time he could be incredibly antisocial. in one way or another everything to remus is a sort of performance (part of this is rooted in his need to come off as a Good Werewolf/ general self loathing)

basically, for people whose every social interaction feels like a performance, “maybe i should stop pretending to be a person” is a relatable sentiment. (that is cringe, i know!! but it’s how i feel) 

has bursts of anger/ brashness. emotionally unpredictable. people around him are never exactly sure how he’ll react to a given situation.

being offered unconditional love is scary for him because it feels temporary/ like he doesn’t deserve it. however when he allows himself to be loved he can form these very close and deep relationships in which he is more authentically himself. 

lies constantly. and can be closed off emotionally/ uncommunicative and then expect other people to read his mind and understand what he needs 

basically he has a No One Understands Me complex yet makes little effort to be understood  

condescending. will give you unsolicited advice that he himself will not follow. also has a superiority complex (modern day remus would’ve regularly browsed /mu/. ‘oh you’ve never heard mbv? normie....’)

aloof but makes an effort to be kind. as a student i think he was considered friendly/ would help you with your homework if you asked 

has a tendency to see relationships as transactional 

has the same vibe as the band talking heads. i know this is a cringe thing 2 say but he matches their ‘cerebral awkward art students meet the nyc punk scene’ energy. they were his favorite band too.

stoner. at hogwarts he was The guy to go to for illicit substances 

enjoys the presence of women… outside of the marauders most of his friends r gals. mama’s boy etc.  

very cognizant of the fact that he is friends with two best friends, i.e. if the sidewalk was too small for three people he would be the one to walk behind them. he is okay with this but if he thinks about it for too long it might start to sting a bit. 

enjoys being choked in bed lol 

has little interest in controlling people/ has a healthy distrust of authority. as a prefect he would let most things slide, as a teacher he would let you retake tests as many times as you wanted. said voldemort, not youknowwho. all of these things r canon btw 

chronic pain. pure projection here, but he also has hearing loss. 

turned homework in late and i cannot decide if he was a very attentive question asking note taking student or just did not pay attention at all and then went to the library at night and tried to teach himself everything he was supposed to learn in class. 

the early 80s were uhhh tough for him. drugs as a coping mechanism/ substance abuse etc. never stayed in one place too long/ travelled a lot. 

will never apologize and acts completely irrationally to avoid confronting his insecurities. 

smart but not as naturally gifted and talented at everything the same way s and j were. he actually had to try in school, and doing well was important/ high stakes for him because he couldn’t just live off his family’s money for his entire life

very much a pisces in that at times he liked to sort of marinate in his sadness…… because when you are the one being victimized you cannot be a monster, right?  

dirt under his fingernails. holes in his socks. 

likes to do things that makes him feel in control of his life and his body. 

doesn’t kill bugs. catch n release. will hold a spider in his bare hands. sirius it’s okay it won’t hurt you. sirius please don’t kill it. pls.

likes being alone but not as much as he likes being around his friends :)

and basically everything @wolfbuck has ever said about him being welsh.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)

ao3 link

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

           It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”

           Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”

           “Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”

           “Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”

           “You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”

           “But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.

           “Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”

           “Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”

           “It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”

           Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“

           “Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”

           “This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”

           “And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“

           “Go to hell.”

           “I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”

           “You should be.”

           “Beg pardon?”

           Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”

           “Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“

           “Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”

           “This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”

           Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.

           “Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”

           He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”

           “I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”

           “Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”

           “The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”

           “You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”

           “Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“

           “It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”

           He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”

           “I guess something has to.”

           “You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”

           “Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”

           He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“

           “I love you too, dad.”

           “That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”

           Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”

           “No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”

           Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.

           It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.

           Like Castiel.

           Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”

           “Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.

           “What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”

           “Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”

           “You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“

           “Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”

           Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”

           “Dean –“

           “No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.

           “When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”

           Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”

           It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.

           Disgusting.

           He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”

           Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“

           “You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”

           Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”

[bau-rookie]

a close examination of Hotch and Foyet

in which Hotch’s greatest strength becomes his fatal flaw.

(a/n: super long essay, because i don’t know how else to consume media apparently lol. i’ve been sitting on this since “100″ because it is really sad and I just wanted to make sure I get all my thoughts in order. It is, to my discovery, Aaron Hotchner’s birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by explaining all the ways the Foyet arc reads like a Greek tragedy and how Hotch is an amazingly well-written character. Sorry the only way I can think about paying tribute is by making myself sad. Oh there’s GIFs too! I made them and that’s neat :D)

I. Ingredients for a Greek tragedy.

Greek tragedies stem from classical plays, usually about the nobility, and is centered around their struggle against the Gods/Fate. The noble character has a hamartia, or a fatal flaw, usually their own arrogance, that brings upon their own downfall.

Technically, Criminal Minds would fall under the category of modern tragedy which focuses more on common people and everyday problems. (Though you could argue that being a BAU profiler isn’t your typical career, which makes our characters noble not by blood, but in spirit.)

In modern tragedy, there is less of an emphasis on the involvement of a higher power or Fate. Every bad thing that happens is of mankind’s own making, and this is something that CM discusses often, that evil isn’t necessarily brought upon by a higher power. It’s brought upon by ordinary people choosing to do terrible things. 

And Foyet is no different. He chose to kill all these people because he wanted to, but his fascination with Hotch and how his plans for him play out, entrap Hotch in a tragedy more Greek in nature.

What Foyet ultimately does is take Hotch’s greatest strength—his stoic resolve to serve justice—and uses it to hold him personally responsible for the death of his ex-wife, all while bending the hand of Fate to his will.

II. Hotch as a noble character.

In “Omnivore” we are introduced to the Reaper and the many ways he tries to exert control and power over his victims. After killing so many times loses its appeal, the Reaper decides to toy with detective Tom Shaunessey by offering him a deal—if you stop hunting me, I will stop hunting them. 

While we sympathize with Shaunessey simply trying to save lives, he does so with the knowledge that he is deliberately letting a serial killer go free. The fear and the guilt eats away at him until his death.

Hotch, on the other hand, quickly establishes himself to be a resolute pursuer of justice. We don’t get to make those decisions. We don’t let them get away with it. He holds onto the idea that they have no right to decide who lives or dies and that the victims that unsubs like the Reaper takes, are not something he, or anyone in his line of work, should feel responsible for. Their sole responsibility is to stop them. 

This isn’t to say that Hotch is unaffected by the increasing number of bodies. When he turns down the deal and the Reaper attacks the bus full of people, he is visibly shaken by this, so much so that we see Hotch cry for the first time. It takes Rossi delivering some tough love to remind him of what’s important.

Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head—it’s not your conscience. It’s your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. It’s about the bad guys. That why we profile them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it someone else will.

Hotch and the team in general, are faced with constant reminders that they are only human. They are fallible and cannot control every outcome. 

Not everyone can handle the stresses of being a profiler. Despite the horrors, the chance of failing, Hotch’s greatest strength is his stoic resolve. He’s become our beloved Unit Chief, the person on the team who takes on the most pressure, takes it upon himself to, at times, shield the rest of the team from the greater burdens. Personally, he’s arguably also the one who sacrificed the most to have this job, having lost his marriage.

Yet despite the horrors, despite the toll, Hotch shows up for the job anyway. Because he can’t imagine letting the bad guys get away with it.

III. Foyet as a representation of Fate

“The Eye of Providence. A symbol adopted by the U.S. Government with the words: Annuit Coeptis. Latin for “Providence or fate has favored our undertakings.” The Reaper seems to see himself as the personification of Fate.”  — Dr. Spencer Reid, “Omnivore”

From the beginning Foyet is shown to have a flair for theatrics. He leaves markings of the Eye of Providence, writes Fate in blood, calls himself the The Reaper. He has delusions of grandeur and posits himself as a higher power, one who gets to decide the course of other people’s lives. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with the Reaper, becomes another chess piece in his twisted game of Fate.

In another life, Hotch would never cross paths with Foyet. But because he did, Foyet acts as Fate, bringing down divine intervention in the form of driving Hotch into a tragedy of his own making.

Foyet acting as Fate is, paradoxically, also an argument against the actual existence of Fate. Everything that happens is a result of Foyet’s choices. It is him, a man, and not Fate who is choosing to kill, maim and be cruel.

When it came to Shaunessy, Foyet also emphasized pinning the blame of the death of innocent lives on the failure of law enforcement. It isn’t Fate when there’s something you could do to stop it. Shaunessy took the deal because he felt personally responsible for the possible loss of lives, an outcome that Foyet pretty much predicted, but one that doesn’t really affect him. Shaunessy agrees, he gets off on controlling the police. If he doesn’t, well, he can just keep on killing.

Foyet repeats the deal with Hotch. Offers him the deal, which Hotch refuses then immediately murders 7 people on the bus, setting a chain of cause and effect that makes it seems like Hotch’s actions led to this gruesome outcome. Again, placing the blame personally, on Hotch. And Hotch does blame himself, if momentarily.

Later, once Foyet escapes and corners Hotch in his own apartment, he makes it clear, you should have made a deal. Foyet acts as a vessel for Fate, a vehicle through which the consequences of Hotch’s actions are served. 

Foyet takes it a step further, when he puts Haley and Jack in witness protection. Left all the usual clues, to simply say your wife and child are in danger because you never took the deal. I hold all the cards here, your fate will come for you eventually.

Then Foyet disappears, and waits. Leaving Hotch filled with guilt over endangering his ex-wife and child, at the mercy of Foyet’s arbitration of Fate.

IV. Dominoes and fatal flaws

By the time “100″ rolls around, you’re so captivated by the action happening on screen that it’s easy to overlook how we got there. When I first watched this season, I had assumed that Foyet would be put on the back burner until the end of the season. His quicker-than-expected return seems to be happenstance, the writers behind-the-scenes doing some plot magic, but if you reexamine the events that lead up to “100″ we see Foyet’s greater machinations at play.

On the surface, the preceding episode “Outfoxed” seems to be a straight forward throwback to an earlier case. Faced with a family annihilator, Hotch and Emily visit the original Fox in prison, believing the current unsub might be a copycat. The episode seems to be about the mental toll being a profiler brings, with Emily contending with a sense of disgust at having to get intimate with a serial killer (post-”Lauren” this reads very differently, but I digress). Until right at the end, when they reveal the admirer letters were actually from Foyet, and the one being outfoxed is Hotch.

When the events of “100″ go down, we hear Foyet repeatedly blame Hotch for what happens with Haley, calls out what we see as a noble resolve to instead be Hotch’s fatal flaw. It was the same thing that led Haley to leave him, a failing borne from Hotch’s own ego, the part of him that insists that it be him who catches the bad guys, that it be him who risks it all. And Foyet uses that to his advantage, uses Hotch’s resolve to trick him into thinking that maybe he did cause all of this tragedy to happen.

One small detail that caught my attention, and set me on this Greek tragedy path, is when they try to track down Foyet in “100″, Garcia notes that he had set an internet search alert for the name “Peter Rhea.”

At this point, Foyet was ready to go after Haley and Jack. He already had pictures and surveillance of the U.S. Marshall in charge of them. He could’ve gone and killed them anytime, but that’s not how Foyet operates. He needs Hotch to feel personally responsible for things ending badly. He set the bait with the letters and simply had to wait for Hotch and the team to get close enough, to find Peter Rhea. This is, of course, incredibly risky. The team could catch him before Foyet gets anywhere close to Haley and Jack, but Foyet is sure of himself and is an extensive planner. He made sure he was always two steps ahead.

The irony is that Foyet would never have gone after Haley and Jack if Hotch and the team didn’t get close to tracking him down. There’s an added layer of Spencer figuring out Foyet’s alias using his genius anagram deciphering brain and Garcia’s expert tech analyst skills. Foyet managed to hurt Hotch because this specific BAU team are just too damn good at their jobs.

Foyet set up dominoes that only Aaron Hotchner could tip to fall. He does it so well it almost feels like Fate.

V. The inevitability of fate

“Men heap together the mistakes of their lives and create a monster called destiny.”  — John Hobbes, “Omnivore” closing quote.

A key aspect of Greek tragedy, is that Fate is often the result of divine intervention. They cause certain events to happen in certain ways so as to result in the most tragic outcome, usually death. It’s designed so that the audience is aware of what’s to come, and can see no other way for the story to end. The tragedy is supposed to feel inevitable.

One could argue, that there is no such thing as Fate. Life is simply a sequence of random happenstance, but our need to prescribe meaning to the chaos cobbles up stories of predetermined destinies. Especially when the idea of owning up to our mistakes and their consequences is too much.

All of this was the result of one sick man, George Foyet, choosing to be so cruel. And Hotch was simply a victim of circumstance because if Foyet wasn’t going after Hotch, he’d be going after someone else.

But what are the odds that Hotch’s first case as lead profiler happens to be The Boston Reaper? It was from that moment that Hotch’s fate was really sealed, he and Foyet would be forever intertwined. 

Hotch, being who he is, had inadvertently, made the Reaper personal. Even when his BAU team was sent away, his resolve wouldn’t let the Reaper simply disappear. It led him to build his profile, alone and over many years. Any other person might’ve just let the case go, but not Hotch.

So when Shaunessy died and the Reaper resurfaced, the only person in the world who knows enough about the Reaper to track him down, is Hotch. It’s what leads him to George Foyet, a victim at first glance, and Hotch comes to him unaware that he is promising The Reaper a new, worthy adversary, one a decade in the making. And everything, from his prison escape, to his attack on Hotch in his apartment, plays out exactly as Foyet expects it to, because as much as Hotch can read him, Foyet can read his behavior too.

At the end of 5x03, “Reckoner”, Rossi talks about what could have been when it comes to his childhood sweetheart to Hotch. About how he was too obsessed with his job, with the hunt that he gave up his chance of having a family. Rossi warns Hotch, don’t make my mistakes, kid.

You have a family. When all this is over, what are you gonna do to make sure you’re not a lonely guy wondering why you let the purest thing in your life get away?

My initial reaction was that they were setting up for Hotch to leave the BAU for good. The man who hung on to the job so much that it cost him his marriage, for the first time, actually considers leaving it all behind him. Because what Rossi says to him, driven by the circumstances that Foyet has created, is too profound for him to ignore. Foyet is too big of a thing to just move on from once its over.

Of course, my hopes of Hotch riding off into sunset to live a quieter life and watch his son grow up were optimistic at best. It’s a fantasy that purposely ignores the reality of who Hotch is, simply because I want the alternative to be possible. By the time Haley is buried, and Strauss offers Hotch retirement, we already know what his answer is going to be. Because everything we know about this man can only lead us to one conclusion.

Aaron Hotchner is the man who goes after the bad guys, the man who doesn’t let them get away with it. No matter how much I yell at my screen about how Hotch should just retire and spend all his time with Jack, deep down I knew that was never going to happen. Him losing Haley and still going back to work, seems like the only logical outcome. It’s almost feels inevitable.

VI. Catharsis

The point of tragedy is, according to Aristotle, to achieve catharsis. The purging of emotion through the telling of another person’s suffering. And that’s what “100″ does (unless your heart is made of stone and you somehow did not tear up even once).

Others would say that tragedy is meant to teach us a lesson. Meant to teach us the limits of our mortal abilities, to warn against hubris and arrogance; to remind us that they are higher powers and unseen forces beyond our understanding or control.

Criminal Minds doesn’t try to give us that lesson. Like in so many previous cases, the premise of a crime procedural is really a way of examining human nature. Why do people do bad things? More often than not, though our profilers can figure out how an unsub goes from doing thing A to thing B, they don’t have a satisfying answer for why. 

In Foyet’s case, he does all of this to Hotch because he can, because he enjoys making him suffer. It is evil, unnecessarily cruel. There is no sense to be found in what happened.

But “100″ does not deliver pure tragedy. It ended in the death of Haley but it also provided hope in the survival of Jack. Hotch finally rids the world of Foyet, though the way it went down, you can’t help but wonder about the price of justice, if the cost is too much for this one man to pay. But then the show reminds the audience, that this one man isn’t bearing that cost alone.

Aaron Hotchner has his team, his family, and with their support, a chance to recover from the tragedy that Foyet wrought.

I used to think that, despite being dead, George Foyet still won. He set out to hurt Hotch, and that’s exactly what he did. We’ve only seen Hotch openly cry twice at this point, and they both were directly caused by Foyet. And I suppose that’s still partly true. It’s hard to really tell with our stone-faced unit chief, but it’s hard to see how Foyet wouldn’t linger.

But that victory isn’t absolute. Foyet is gone, and he loses every time Jack gets to spend another day happy and alive. Foyet loses, every time Hotch shows up for the job and doesn’t let another unsub like him get away with it.

And maybe that’s the lesson. That though good doesn’t always triumph over evil, there is a way to move past tragedy. And that path lies not in solitude, in carrying the burden alone, but in the solace of our friends and family who can bear witness to all that we must face.

For all all my waxing poetic about how Hotch is a noble hero, this entire ordeal just shows how human he is. Yet despite his flaws and the tragedy, the core unassailable truth of who he is, the values he represents, remain unchanged.

He is Aaron Hotchner. The guy who hunts down guys like Foyet. The guy who doesn’t let the bad guys get away with it. The guy who, despite everything, managed to save his son. The guy who will keep his promise to the woman he was once married to, to teach their son that love is the most important thing. The guy who makes sure that his son knows that good people do exist.

Aaron Hotchner is the guy who, despite all the hurt, the pain and the loss, chooses to be the hero. And that’s the farthest thing from tragic.

[kyber-kisses]

The Catalyst

Michael!Dean x Reader

Warnings: Soft!Michael, fluff

Summary: When injured on a solo case, y/n finds herself being saved by the last person she expected- if she could even call him that. . . human.

A/n: I hate myself for loving Michael so much, but like- he was an interesting character and a good villain. This is also probably shit, so ye be warned.

Being a hunter for most of your life, you should have learned by now that solo hunts rarely ever ran smoothly. You should have called up a friend for back up- but instead you were stubborn and chose not to do that.

And that’s how you found yourself slowly bleeding out in an old abandon brewery in Kentucky. One werewolf had turned to three and before you knew it, there were claws and teeth digging into you. Somehow you managed to take them down before falling to the ground yourself, chest feeling like it had been torn to ribbons.

Your breathing was shallow as you tired to keep yourself awake, clutching at another wound on your neck. This was it. You were going to die. All alone. Taken out by werewolves. Fucking werewolves.

At least you could die knowing you helped save people. Hell, you’d helped save people from another world. When the Winchesters asked for your help, you had jumped immediately at the chance. You liked helping people. You were good at it.

You could feel yourself falling quickly into darkness as you sucked in one more shallow breath. As your lids closed, you swore you could hear the faint flutter of wings, but the dark took you before you could process.

And you knew no more.

*. *. *. *. *. *

Michael took slow strides across the cement floor of the brewery, electric blue eyes flashing as he found you. You were surrounded by bodies and covered in blood, making him tilt his head, slightly intrigued by the sight.

He had seen you before, when you were helping the Winchesters. From the moment he laid his celestial eyes on you, he found you incredibly interesting. He didn’t know why, but he just did. Ever since then, he had been keeping tabs on you, observing the way you worked, keep you out of harms way when he could.

“You have quite a knack for getting yourself into these situations.” He mused, kneeling down next to your form. “Let’s fix you up, shall we?”

Moving a hand to your head, he gently placed two fingers against your temple, allowing his grace to flow through your body, healing you quickly, erasing all gashes from your skin. The place of contact glowing blue as he did.

You remained unconscious as he finally pulled away, still looking at you with the same intrigued expression. He couldn’t just leave you here. It wasn’t safe.

Wrapping his arms around you, he hoisted your limp figure into his arms, holding you firmly to his chest. As he did, he felt the heartbeat in his chest quicken. Why was this happening? It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t anger. This was something else. Dean was locked away deep inside his own mind, so it couldn’t have been him. This was Michael himself causing this to happen.

“Interesting. . .” He hummed, and with that he took off with you in his arms. Leaving the brewery behind. In a matter of seconds his feet were hitting the wooden floors of the penthouse in Chicago he had been residing in the past few days.

Your body felt so light in his arms, so delicate. His steps were soft as he crossed the room, easing you onto the bed. He allowed himself another moment to observe you. The curve of your lips, the shape of your nose- even the lashes that fluttered lightly in your unconscious state.

No. This wasn’t right. The normal hate he felt for humans didn’t exist when he looked at you. He was supposed to be tearing this world to the ground. Wiping out the vermin that crawled across the earth like a plague. Yet here he stood, transfixed by everything about you.

“I do not understand. Why don’t I hate you?” He questioned himself, lowering himself into the chair nearest to the bed, his eyes never leaving you. He needed answers- ones that you may have. “Perhaps it’s time to wake you up.”

With a snap of his fingers, you jolted in consciousness, wide eyed and breathless. Your pupils crossed the dark room, settling on the well dressed figure across from you, the light from the bustling city beyond the window illuminating his features.

Even if he had the face of your friend, you knew quickly that it’s wasn’t Dean. He was too calm and there was a foreignness in his eyes.

“Michael.” You swallowed, shifting across the covers to swing your legs over the side of the bed. You wished you could say you felt scared. That you felt threatened. But there was none of that. You were calm and for some odd reason you felt safe.

“You’re an interesting little thing y/n. Quite tough too.” He spoke. Hell, he didn’t even speak like Dean. He spoke low and deep, taking his time with each word.

Your mind flashed back to the brewery and the wounds that had been inflicted on your body. How did you get here? How were you alive? You shifted again to quickly pull up the hem of your shirt, only to find bare skin. No gashes or bruises. The same went for your neck, which your hand flew to quickly.

“How did I survive?” You questioned. It couldn’t have been Michael. His whole purpose was wiping out humanity.

“You almost didn’t.” He frowned, pushing up from the chair and striding closer to you, still giving you your space though. “I healed you.”

“Why?”

“I could not let you die. There’s something about you-.”

You hated that you felt so calm around him. So safe. He came to a rest next to you, the mattress dipping under the added weight. He was possessing Dean. You should hate him- you should hate him with every fiber in your being.

But you didn’t.

And you hated that even more.

“Thank you- for saving my life. . . And not hurting me.” You swallowed, feeling your skin tingle under his gaze. It was soft though- no anger and no violence burned within his irises.

He was not expecting a thanks. He had never been thanked before. He didn’t do things that people should thank him for. He blinked, slightly taken back by your words.

“There is no need to thank me. I would never cause any harm you.” He promised, though still conflicted by the words themselves. He should be harming you. You were human. You were vermin. You should be dead.

But the thought of you being dead had his insides turning- or his vessels insides at least. He couldn’t let that happen. He needed to protect you. He needed to keep you safe. The world was cruel and he did not want you falling victim to it.

“I know I should be terrified of you- but for some odd reason, I’m not.” You admitted, silently surrendering your thoughts to the Angel. “I feel safe.”

“Wait, you’re not afraid of me?”

“No.”

You should have flinched, should have ducked away when he moved a calloused hand to to the side of your face. But you didn’t. Your body reacted before your mind did, and you found yourself leaning in to the archangels touch. The grace flowing through his body made your skin buzz at the contact. He was like a magnet, pulling you in.

And you let it happen. There was something about Michael that you couldn’t let go of. He was being so gentle, and the way he was looking at you had your heart skipping beats. It was like he had never seen anything like you. Anyone like you.

“I don’t know why, but when I look at you- I can’t control the rapid beats of my vessels heart. It’s not Dean. But I should have full control over everything.”

You tilted your head, taken back by his words. And then your mind pieces it all together. Him saving you, taking you somewhere safe, the looks, the gentle demeanor, the touches.

The Archangel cared for you. Cared for you in a very real way that even he did not fully understand.

“You like me, don’t you?”

Michael's eyes widened, ever so slightly as he moved to shake his head, but didn’t. Him liking a human? Liking. . . no- this was stronger. He’d been watching over you for months. He was fascinated by the way you carried yourself, how kind you were, how fierce.

“I’m not familiar with this feeling.”

If you could have seen yourself, you probably would have slapped yourself. Slowly you raised as hand, tracing his jawline. Michael held your soul in his hands and had valued your worth. And you found yourself doing the same to him.

And then you were kissing him.

You shouldn’t have- but you did. Once, twice- quickly becoming addicted to the the grace tingling your lips. He smelled like vanilla and cloves and tasted even better.

The first kiss froze him. He didn’t understand it, therefore he didn’t kiss back, but he quickly decided he liked it. He wanted more, and so when you came back he followed your actions, molding his vessels lips against your own.

Once he had a taste, he realized he couldn’t get enough. He was everywhere; hands running down your back and over your shoulders, and suddenly he’s kissing you harder, deeper, with an urgent need like neither of you had ever known.

The Archangel fell for you, and right then and there he decided he was going to hand this universe to you on a silver platter.

(A/n: like always thank you for reading! I hope y’all liked it! Kinda interested in writing a part 2 so be on the look out!)

[vannahfanfics]

The Path to Happiness

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Ventus, Terra, Aqua

Terra awoke with a strangled gasp, fisting the damp sheets as he bolted upright in bed. Ragged, strangled gasps tumbled from his lungs, and cold sweat poured down his pallid, clammy skin. Slowly, the visions of darkness and icy rush of fear melted from his system, making him bonelessly flop against the headboard. He drew his palm across his face, catching the sweat in the ridges of his hand; he then dropped his arm against the mattress and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling with an exhausted sigh. He traced the patterns of the rafters through lidded eyes, trying to occupy his addled mind with meaningless drivel as the fear and doubt and guilt tried to creep back in from the shadows. 

The sharp claws of nausea pawed at his belly, making bile bubble up into his throat. Reconciling with the fact that sleep would not find him for quite some time, he tossed the covers off himself and slipped out of bed. The tiled floor was cold against the soles of his feet as he shambled barefoot out of the room, allowing muscle memory to guide him through the gilded halls of the castle situated at the center of the Land of Departure. He couldn’t find his way consciously, as his mind was too spent from struggling with phantasms of past mistakes. 

Moonlight streamed in from the stained-glass windows to dapple across his broad shoulders and throw dark shadows up in odd places. In a moment of lapsing mind, the darkness seemed to bulge up behind him in a hostile mass, latching onto his shoulders like a parasite ready to suck all the light left within him. With a strangled cry, Terra whirled around, unconsciously drawing his Keyblade. The hairs on the back of his neck rose to catch the sweat rolling down from his dampened brown tresses as he searched the darkness warily, terrified to find the glint of golden eyes lurking within. Only the pale starlight and the empty air of the long hall greeted him.

Terra groaned, rubbing at the clammy flesh at the back of his neck as he sheathed his weapon with a faint sparkle of light. He rubbed his face again, struggling to retain a shred of sanity. Ever since finally ridding himself of Xehanort’s parasitic presence, Terra had grappled with paranoia and night terrors. It was just so hard to believe that the nefarious pariah was truly no longer plaguing the worlds; Terra would see visions of him, stalking in the dark corners of his vision and melting out of the shadows. He’d have to convince himself that it was only a trick of the mind, a mere ghost that couldn’t hurt him. 

The guilt was harder to reconcile with. If Terra hadn’t been so reckless, so weak to the beguile of the darkness within him, maybe things would’ve gone differently. 

“Ugh. Stop that, Terra,” he chastised himself as he mushed the skin of his face with his palms. He teased into the fronds of his chocolate-colored hair and grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation of the sweat clinging to the strands. Suddenly finding the wide hall stifling, he renewed his pace to quickly exit the castle, stepping out into the starry night sky’s wide, welcoming arms. The glittering pinpricks of the stars and the endless expanse of indigo blue brought a weary smile to his face. Anytime things got tough, he’d recall that promise the three of them made to each other beneath those same stars, an oath that took much too long to fulfill. 

Terra strode out into the nighttime tranquility, the long grasses kissing the fabric of his pants. The starlight enveloped him like an old friend, bathing him in pale whiteness. Terra inhaled deeply, and as the cool air flooded his nostrils, he almost imagined that he was inhaling the celestial light itself, the stardust nourishing his bones and blood to lull him into a sense of peace. A gentle smile worked onto his face as he finally felt the tension melt from his shoulders. 

Just as Terra made it to the iron-wrought fencing, leaning against it to gaze into the Land of Departure stretching on before him, he heard a sleepy, “Terra…?” He glanced behind him to see Ventus shambling tiredly down the sloped grassy hill, rubbing at his eye as a yawn split his face. “What’re you doing up so early?” Aqua strolled behind him; her blue eyes narrowed in an acute sense of worry. Terra found himself chuckling. He’d escaped the castle to find some sense of solitude, but it seemed the universe had other plans. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Ah, Aqua, perceptive as always. Terra smiled defeatedly at the tall, lithe woman as she strode up, head cocked to the side in curiosity. There was no point in lying to her, so he just nodded. Aqua smiled sympathetically and leaned her side against the iron railing. The somber look in her sea-blue eyes told him that Aqua herself was no stranger to the night’s unnerving terrors. Terra exhaled deeply and pressed down against the railing, pushing his weight down onto his outstretched legs as he balanced his crossed arms and torso onto the metal structure. His eyes reflected the glittering landscape of the stars, hollowly, like opaque glass. 

“Ten years. Ten years I wasted as that man’s slave,” he breathed. His voice fogged in the air as if metamorphosizing into the ghost that his soul was that long, dark decade. “All because I wasn’t strong enough.” His head dropped as he uttered the sentence, chin thumping against his sternum. 

“Terra!” Ventus interjected, jumping forward to grab onto the hem of his form-fitted shirt. Terra had to smile; spending ten years asleep as a fractured heart didn’t make him any less childish. Ventus’ blue eyes regarded him worriedly as he pawed at the shirt. “It’s not your fault. It’s Xehanort’s.” 

“Yeah. I know, Ven,” Terra chuckled and reached out to affectionately ruffle the younger boy’s hair. Ventus’ giddy smile was infectious, curling Terra’s lips upwards subconsciously. However, the hollow shadow of doubt pulsed in Terra’s chest. So how many times he tried to convince himself that the decades-long sequence of events resulted from forces out of his control. Then, he’d think back to the Mark of Mastery examination, to the flicker of darkness that intrigued Xehanort and made the old man zero in on his newest pawn. 

Even if Terra had been pure and rejected the darkness completely, the guilt would have stayed. He failed to stop Xehanort, dooming a new generation of children to take up the mantle and shattering dozens of hearts in the process. If it had just ended there, the Organization would have never been created, nor all those souls twisted to darkness. If it had just ended there, Sora’s world never would have fallen into ruin to plunge him into a harrowing and dangerous journey spanning the worlds. If it had just ended there, so much heartbreak could have been avoided. 

I should have been stronger. No one else should’ve had to clean up after us! 

“Terra.” Aqua’s voice called to him like the shining light of a lighthouse to a vessel traversing a perilous sea. His head swiveled in search of her soft voice, her pale face, finding her sparkling blue eyes regarding him warmly. Her hand slipped up the meat of his muscular arms to rest just at the base of his deltoid, the gentle touch soothing him in ways words never could. “No one blames you. Please stop blaming yourself.” His eyes narrowed sadly as Aqua gazed intently at him. “If these long years have proved anything, it is that we cannot shoulder these burdens alone. It was always meant for us to come together to stop his great evil. The path to happiness is often paved with mistakes and heartbreak.” 

Damn. Aqua was always so poetic. 

“Yeah!” Ventus grinned, shoving his head underneath Terra’s arm to flash him a toothy smile. “So many cool things woulda never happened if things went differently. We never would’ve traveled the world and experienced all those things. Sure, Xehanort made the organization and split himself into two. If his Heartless was never created, Sora wouldn’t have gone on his journey and met all his wonderful friends. If the Nobodies were never made, Lea never woulda met his friends! Roxas and Naminé and Xion wouldn’t even exist. All of these connections and friendships that we can enjoy now would never have been made in the first place,” he pointed out. As always, Terra found himself cheered by the boy’s boundless optimism. Ventus giggled as Terra slung his beefy arm around the back of his neck and hugged him into his chest. 

“Man, you’re so right. You’d be stuck with us boring grown-ups instead of all the kids your age, huh, Ven?” The blond laughed mirthfully as he wriggled in Terra’s grip. 

“But I like you guys! You’re my best friends!” 

“It’s okay, Ven. You don’t have to make us feel better,” Terra joked. Ventus pushed on Terra’s ribs to pry himself free, head popping up to display his pout and the more-poofy-than-usual tufts of honey-blond hair sticking up at odd angles thanks to Terra’s manhandling. 

“I mean it! Anyway, why are you derailing from the conversation?” Terra snorted and resumed leaning against the railing, shaking his head. When he looked back up at the starry sky, the light had returned to his eyes, making his blue irises shine like the waves of the sea. 

“I’m not. I’m just feeling better, I guess.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Aqua offered appreciatively. Terra only hummed in response, appreciating the brilliance of the celestial bodies flickering above. All those words contained within the stars, traversed by generations of Keyblade wielders in a chronicle far from over. He wondered what the next stage of their journey held, what chapter would unfold in the coming days. He supposed it didn’t matter; as Aqua said, they were all tied by destiny, and their fates would unfurl soon enough. 

Terra could now face the future bravely, bolstered by his two dearest friends in all the many, many worlds.

Tag List: @deliazeedork​

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[etherian-affairs]

Gorgeous

This one's a more evil/amoral Entrapta. Centered around a dissection. So steer clear if you're not into that stuff.

===========

There really was a lot of yelling and violence when they boarded the Horde starship. Not that Entrapta didn't expect that. It just really is a lot and it made it hard to take notes at first. There was a lot of very fascinating tech aboard the Horde vessel that needed cataloguing. Especially since Hordak confirmed that it was a research vessel of some kind! The most dangerous kind of vessel! Though all of Entrapta's recording and prodding at everything she saw fell by the wayside when Entrapta layed eyes on her her.

The pilot.

Hordak called it a Nero ship. A specific subclass of vessels with a very special kind of control and piloting system. One of Hordak's own species modified and hooked into the ships computers to control it like there own body. Sure enough in a recessed alcove on the bridge the pilot was hooked in.

She was gorgeous.

Tech all across her body. Data cables attached to her head and spine. It made Entrapta giddy. As the Etherian Horde and Princess Alliance forces battled for control she caught Hordak yelling something about being careful not to disconnect the pilot, that doing so would send her into shock and make her useless, but it was too late. Adora had slammed into something and sure enough the pilot was forced out of her link.

And she was enraged.

Entrapta was absolutely giddy.

"Don't worry I'll take care of her!" The Princess of Dryl loudly declares as she launches herself into the fray proper for the first time. Moving quickly to restrain and bind the angry pilot. It is difficult of course, she's very strong. Threatening to tear at Entrapta's hair!

"Hordak!" Entrapta yells as she's swung around. "If I promise to figure out how she works can I stop her permanently?!"

Hordak scowls, likely because the pilot is already lost to them. "You will have to. Be done with her!"

Entrapta barely hears Adora scream at her to stop over the rush of excitement. She does catch the 'Entrapta why?!' after the scalpel is buried into the pilots neck though.

Rather hypocritical of Adora, Entrapta can't help but think. Adora just killed a bunch of Horde Marines with that sword! Entrapta only killed one pilot!

And it's done anyway! Why ask about it? Entrapta just looks at Adora with a smile. "We had to! We need to get her back to a lab so I can examine her!"

Before Adora can interject Hordak speaks. "There will be one aboard the we need to take anyway." He nods.

...

Sure enough the ship had its own lab. Which makes sense since it's a research vessel. But it means Entrapta didn't have to bring the Pilot back down to Etheria so how much sense it makes is secondary to how convenient it is. As Entrapta and Hordak enter the biolab the Princess can only smile as the scientist stationed within tries to charge them without even having any weapons.

Hordak's armor performs wonderfully as he grabs the scientist and crushes her throat. Entrapta finds herself quite proud of the speed and power to weight ratio she's accomplished with her further tweaking! Still there's improvements that could be made. She'll have to take some time to tune it further later. Maybe add a supplemental power supply for even more powerful short bursts of speed and strength?

That's irrelevant. Pilot first.

"Entrapta whatever you're about to do you can't do!" She hears Adora say from the doorway as the traitor warriors walks through it behind Entrapta and Hordak. "Oh... Oh Etheria." she adds as she sees Hordak throw the scientists corpse aside.

"Oh I can though Adora! That's why I'm about to do it! Besides we need to know how this works so we can replicate it and control the ship!" Entrapta smiles back. "Plus you're fine killing the guards on the ship!"

"I- I am not FINE with it! We have to!"

"And we have to do this." Hordak interjects. "Or do you forget the gravity of our situation?" he turns to Adora.

She falters, stammering. Wanting to hold to her silly convictions no doubt. Entrapta just smiles, she'll thank Hordak for shutting Adora down later. "You should probably leave Adora!" Entrapta says with a smile as she pulls the body of the pilot up onto a table. "Taking apart meat can get messy and you wear a lot of white!"

Adora stammers, backing away and shaking her head. Then she turns to march off. Entrapta simply smiles and gets to work.

It is simply invigorating.

That's the best description of the current work for Entrapta. Simply invigorating.

The pilot is layed out on the work bench, belly down. Her bodysuit stripped off of her with cold efficiency. Hordak had taken to securing the lab and sealing it for Entrapta while she preparea, he's so helpful. So supportive of her research whatever form it takes.

It takes the Princess a moment to determine the best course, the most effective place to begin cutting. Along the artificial spine is what she decides. Her scalpel slides in, sharp and polished. It slides through the joining of flesh and metal as if it was cutting through butter.

Entrapta's breath quickens. Feeling her tool scrape against metal makes it catch for a moment. What secrets will this hold for her? What all will she learn? It's all so fascinating. It's all so gorgeous.

Impatience overcomes her and her hair extends out, blades and saws being pulled from both within her pigtails and from her own proper toolbag.

The skin looks to have some sort of tech weave integrated into it. So that should definitely come off for examination as well. Luckily her spinal incisions give her a good place to begin the full skinning process...

cutting and peeling away the skin reveals so much. It was without a doubt a great decision. Also oddly satisfying in a tactile way. The underlying musculature is woven with sensors and what seem to be artificial strands as well.

Cutting away muscle reveals that the spine seems to be completely artificial, going all the way in and fused to the rest of the skeletal structure.

Perhaps the entire nervous system is modified? Or at least being tapped in to. Thoughts like these occupy Entrapta's mind constantly as she works, as time gets away from her and minutes turn to hours.

Hordak likely has some answer but he is busy outside dealing with the Princesses by this point. He often goes to do other things when Entrapta is doing work like this, and keeping the princesses away from her right now is very useful indeed.

"Oooh..." Entrapta catches herself cooing in delight. "Hour six. It appears I will indeed need to cut open the skull in order to fully remove the artificial nervous system. These early stages of exploration continue to confirm my theory that the interface used here and Hordak's own for his armor are not dissimilar..."

So very fascinating. She could likely make numerous upgrades to Hordak by salvaging parts from this pilot! It is no secret that Hordak's own modifications, even with her own upgrades, are rather adhoc.

The saw slices around metal and through bone with relative ease. This specimens skeletal structure is quite tough but it's nothing Entrapta's tools can't handle. She honestly expected this. Though she's gotten to work with Hordak's body numerous times having full reign over this one is a new experience. It lets her gain access to areas she can't risk with Hordak.

The skull is removed, the brain exposed. It's gorgeous. So foreign. Entrapta has worked with Etherians before. The dead from Dryl taken to her lab for study. This is unlike anything on Etheria. It's streamlined in areas, expanded in others. There's an entire secondary sub brain in the back beneath what horde medical data has led her to conclude is the visual cortex. The sub brain appears to have heavy connections to both the visual cortex and audio centers.

Fascinating.

And all throughout it there is the machines. Artificial neural pathways spidering through the pilots brain. Entrapta had to be careful as she cuts. Removing lobes and making sure to leave the machinery as intact as she can.

The implants are a direct integration and bypass of certain other systems. It looks almost like some areas have been previously cut out to make room for tech. Is that required for piloting? She'll have to dig up more information from other sources.

As the sections of brain are carefully set aside the door opens and Hordak steps in.

"How goes your work?"

"Very well!" Entrapta declares happily. "I'm learning so much! And it's so easy when they start dead!"

Hordak walks up behind her, then leans down and around her hair to kiss her on the cheek. "You should take a break."

Entrapta murmurs in surprise and happiness. "But there's still so much to learn!"

"It won't go anywhere." Hordak notes. "All of the unique parts of the Pilot are non perishable, and there are other members of my kind here to study as well." He pauses for a moment. Then tilts Entrapta's mask up, she turns to look at him. "The princesses would surely like to hear about what you have learned, so they can believe you are not simply in here because you enjoy this kind of work."

"I do enjoy this work though." She replies.

"I know, and I find it beautiful." He leans in to kiss her. She kisses back. Then they break and he continues. "They however, do not. It is best to make them more comfortable while we work together."

Entrapta ponders that for a moment before nodding. "Okay! I'll take a break! I should eat something anyway!"

Hordak just smirks and nods as he stands back up to his full height. "A good plan. We should also get some of the blood off of you before you see the princesses. At least some of it."

Entrapta glances down at herself and giggles. "Yeah probably!"

[thinkyoureholy]

The Phoenix [1]

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Pairing : Park Chanyeol / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Future Smut, Character Death?, Fantasy! AU

Words : 2.2k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I ran to where my mother was, knowing she could put an end to this before anyone got hurt, “Mother!”

I froze when I saw her just staring at the chaos going on below. My father was putting his life on the line, fighting to keep us all safe and she was just watching? I stomped over to her and grabbed onto her forearm, turning her to face me forcefully.

“What are you doing?! Why are you just standing there?!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision as the light of the fire from outside glowing brighter caught my eye.

“Y/N-”

“You’re the queen! Do something! Why do you even have your powers if you’re not going to use them?!” I yelled, the tears now streaming down my face , “Father will die at this rate...mother please.”

At hearing me beg like that she finally broke down, falling to her knees. She sobbed into her hands in front of me, I didn’t know what to do.

“Y/N you feel it too don’t you? Y-You feel the darkness taking people. I know you can feel that it’s not done taking people...no matter what I do it’ll still take them!” She cried out, “Your father-”

“No. Don’t--Don’t say it. Father will be fine, he always is.” I said, stumbling back into the wall behind me.

“A war with a Phoenix will only end one way Y/N! Your father started a war he can not win and now…”

“No! F-Father will stay alive I-” I cut myself off at hearing an ominous laugh coming from behind me.

No.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I turned to face the wall, seeing a shadow the size of what looked like a fully grown adult, “G-Go away.”

You can’t get rid of me sweetheart, I am a part of you. Right now I’m in charge of who goes, you’ll be able to control me when you’re older.

“Shut up.”

Can’t do that either. I’ve got a mind of my own...well not a full mind but a part--you get what I mean. Anyway, tough luck kid but I’ll be taking many lives today.

“N-No at least spare my father...please.” I begged, the tears still steadily streaming down my face.

No can do. Everyone goes today, even mother dearest there. I’m sorry kid but the only one you’ll have left is that twin brother of yours.

“Please.”

You can’t cheat death. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do.

I reached out to stop it but my hands just grabbed onto air, the shadow now gone. I turned to my mother in a panic, placing my hands on her shoulders.

“Mother please! Do something!” I cried out in frustration.

I was frustrated that I wasn’t in complete control of my powers yet. I was frustrated that I couldn't save anyone. I was frustrated that I was forced to watch as everyone died. 

“Y/N...you can’t stop this, no one can.” She said, not even bothering to look me in the eyes.

I grit my teeth angrily, rising to my feet and running out of the room. I had to find him. It said he was the only one I would have left, I’ve got to make sure he stays safe.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Kyungsoo.”

-

My eyes flew open as I sat up, “Kyungsoo!”

I looked around in a panic, letting out a sigh when I realized it was only a dream, a memory from years ago replaying in my mind. I brought a hand up to clutch the fabric that laid over my chest, the pain lingering. I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again when the door to my room swung open.

“What? What happened?!” Kyungsoo asked, stumbling into the room.

I had to stifle a laugh at his appearance. His clothes were barely on as his hair was so disheveled I wondered how it even got that crazy. I stifled the laugh but I couldn’t stop the smile that played at my lips, watching as realization dawned on him.

“You were dreaming again weren’t you?” He asked with a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair as he leaned back against the wall behind him.

“Sorry.” I said, grinning sheepishly.

He bowed his head for a moment before pushing himself off the wall, “Well since we’re both up we should go tend to the gardens, you’ve been slacking off for the past few weeks.”

I nodded, “I’ll go out after I get ready.”

He gave a nod of his own, beginning to walk out of my room but he stopped just as he was about to close the door behind him, “You know what happened that day...it wasn’t your fault.”

My lips formed a thin line, all traces of a smile gone now as I bowed my head, staring down at my open hand. A moment of silence passed through us and in that moment a mist as black as the night sky, no it was darker, the mist was a straight up onyx color. All light that hit it was swallowed whole, the mist now covered my entire hand, my eyes darkening as I stared at it.

“No...it’s not. It’s his fault. And I’ll personally be the one that makes him pay for his sins.”

Kyungsoo said nothing for a second before speaking up in a soft voice, “Hurry and get ready. I’ll be waiting outside,” And with that he left, closing the door behind him.

The black mist that covered my hand now dripped onto the bed before falling to the floor. It moved as if it had a mind of its own until it covered the door, its shape the same as it was all those years ago.

“Why must you keep reminding me of that day?” I asked, watching a grin spread across its face.

‘I don’t want to say it’s fun watching you suffer a bit but then I’d be lying.’

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

‘You mustn’t forget those who hurt you and your family. You must take revenge.’

I scoffed, throwing my blankets off of me and climbed out of bed, grabbing my robe, “You think making me relive that day will make me angrier don’t you? Well...how much angrier do you want me to get?”

As soon as I finished my sentence the wind blew through the windows, water swirled around my feet as shards of ice formed over my head, “How much more do you want?”

The shadow grinned again, a chuckle falling from it’s lips, ‘Enough to swallow a whole empire. You need to eradicate them from existence, killing the current Phoenix isn’t enough, it’ll just choose a new vessel. You need to kill them all, that entire empire needs to fall.’

I rolled my eyes at its words making the wind, water, and ice disappear, “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to kill hundreds for the sins of their king. He’s the only one I want, everyone else is none of my concern.”

I went to take a step forward but froze when I felt pressure around my throat. A reached a hand up to my throat to get it off but there was nothing there. That’s when I knew it was responsible for this. I glared over at the shadow that was still on the wall, watching it’s smile grow.

‘You'll kill them all...whether you want to or not, I don’t care. I gave you the reigns five years ago and I can easily take them back. Don’t test me, kid, you don’t want to get on my bad side.’

And with that it gave one final squeeze before letting me go. I inhaled sharply, rubbing my neck to soothe the pain. Now I’m starting to understand why the previous owner of this darkness never lived past twenty-five, it was a living nightmare.

……

I hooked my arm with Kyungsoo’s as we walked through the garden, “Do we really have to do this? You know we have servants for this right?”

“Father taught us to do things on our own and not rely on the servants.” Kyungsoo said, his voice soft, reaching out a hand to brush against one of the roses, “Besides, it’s been awhile since you had time to walk through these gardens and relax.”

“Yeah well we all can’t be king of the earth now can we?” I said with a smile tugging at the corners of my lips for a second before it vanished, “While you’re out here dealing with the land and animals I’ve got to make sure the Hannan empire stays afloat, even if I have to do so by instilling fear into our people.”

“They don’t fear you they just…”

“They just don’t enjoy being in my presence. It’s fine Soo, I know what they really think of me. I mean I wouldn’t enjoy it either if I had to look into my own eyes. My appearance makes me look like I’m hardly alive…”

“Y/N-”

“Anyway I think I’ve been out here long enough. There are some documents I have to read through and some papers to sign as well.” I said quickly, cutting him off.

I let go of his arm and quickened my pace but before I could get to far I turned back to face him, forcing a smile on my face, “Say hello to Hayi for me, I know she hates it when I can’t see her often. Keep her spirits up for me will you? Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on between my own brother and best friend.”

I chuckled softly at seeing a blush rise to his face, turning on my heel and walking away before he could say anything. I let my smile fall, a shadow casting over my eyes. Just as I reached the palace doors he stepped out from behind a pillar, bowing quickly before falling into step with me.

“What did you find?” 

“Same as usual, your highness. He’s not showing signs of movement but our people are ready to move as soon as anything happens.” 

I nodded, casting a glance at the guards that lined the walls, “I take it you have this many men guarding my brother as well?”

“Yes, your highness. He’s ordered us to keep our distance but we’re always watching him, making sure he stays safe.”

I let out a hum of approval, looking down at the throne before taking a seat, “Thank you, general, you may leave.”

He hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth to say something but closed it immediately. I gave a tilt of my head, raising a brow and waited for him to say what was on his mind. When he didn’t I spoke up.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if it’s even worth bringing up.”

“I’ll be the judge of whether it’s worth it or not. Now say it.”

He averted his gaze for a second, my patience wearing thin, “Junmyeon.”

“His brother, Jongin, he’s--he’s been teleporting more often these days. We don’t know where he goes off to.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, “We can’t do anything about him when he’s teleporting, we’re at a disadvantage against him. Next time bring me a report on the both of them. I thought that Phoenix was the only one we had to worry about…” I trailed, annoyed with that pair of brothers.

With that Junmyeon nodded, bowing deeply and turned on his heel, walking away. Before he could get too far I called out to him.

“And Junmyeon,” He turned at the sound of his name, “Don’t hesitate telling me something in the future, anything you say is worth listening to.”

He smiled softly at my words, an emotion I didn’t recognize in his eyes, “I’ll keep that in mind...Y/N.”

I nodded, not bothered by him calling me by my name instead of ‘Your Highness’. Junmyeon had been close with my brother and I when we were younger, we were childhood friends. He was one of the few I allowed to call me so informally. He gave a bow of his head and left, leaving me in the room with his men guarding me.

“All of you but four step outside and guard the door.” I ordered, grabbing a stack of papers I had put off to the side since yesterday.

-Chanyeol’s P.O.V-

I sank further into the water, leaning my head back and closed my eyes. My moment of peace didn’t last long, hearing footsteps approaching me.

“Can’t I get a minute to myself, brother?” I asked without opening my eyes, already knowing it was him.

“Sorry but it’s the only time I can talk to you without others overhearing.” He said.

I let out a sigh and opened my eyes, staring up into his onyx eyes, that single gray streak in his jet black hair catching my eyes for a moment, “What is it?”

“You know she’s watching you, right?” He asked, sitting down, taking his shoes off and dipping his feet into the water but he quickly pulled them out, “Fuck, the water is freezing!”

I snickered at the look on his face, a smirk settling on my lips, “Of course I know she’s watching us, I’m not an idiot. But let her believe she has the upper hand...she’ll never beat me, I am a Phoenix after all,” I said, my smirk growing into a full blown grin, my crimson eyes glowing.

[misharuu]

All You Had To Do Was Ask ; Part One/Four

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden (you only need basic knowledge of the fandom to enjoy this story; only the subplot mentions the canon!)

Pairing: Jiraiya x Naruto

Warnings/Tags: NSFW ; yaoi in future chapters, sickfic, emeto, depression, mental illness, self harm/suicide attempt in future chapters.

Summary:  Naruto and Jiraiya have set out on another training journey together. Jiraiya returns from a recon mission to find Naruto sick and injured, slipping deep into the grasps of depression. Emotions are kindled and their dynamic begins to shift and change; can Jiraiya save Naruto before it's too late?

Word Count: 11,218

A/N: so this fic follows the canon storyline up until when Naruto begins training with Jiraiya for the second time, before learning sage mode. rather than having a second, shorter spurt of training they set off on another two year long journey. Naruto is 19 and Orochimaru took on a different vessel which gave them more time to prepare while the Akatsuki focused on the other tailed beasts. Naruto is being tormented by the Nine Tailed Fox and slowly falls into a pit of crippling depression. he stops taking care of himself and has to deal with the consequences once Jiraiya comes back from a 'research' session. drama ensues and eventually Jiraiya and Naruto realize they might need each other more than they had ever expected.

please like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy this fic c:

AO3. FF.

PART ONE: BLOOD

"You're weak. You're a monster. No one could ever love you. Not after what you've done. Not with what you are. You're a fucking disgrace. Jiraiya is just using you. He wants your power. Why do you think he's always off 'researching'? You disgust him. He can't stand being in the same room as you. You killed his prized student. You're a murderer," the Fox snickered, chakra glowing a deep dark crimson. Naruto sat in the shallow water, his hands pressed over his ears. He wouldn't listen. He wanted to tear out his eardrums so he couldn't listen. Even now he knew he was dreaming, but it stung the same because he knew the words were true.

———————

Naruto's eyes snapped open, waking with a start. A dull throb formed behind his eyes and he let out a shaky breath. A cold sweat coated his body and a chill seeped up his spine. He shivered and pulled the covers closer to his neck, wrapping himself up tight. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pressure in his head away. Suddenly a sharp pain spread throughout his stomach like a wildfire, deep and twisting. He winced and rolled onto his side, but the sudden movement caused his vision to swim. He groaned and fought back the bile rising in his throat, swallowing hard. Just as he thought he was about to lose control the door slammed open. Jiraiya cheerily walked into the room, loudly dropping his pack next to the door. He stomped through the room and stopped at the window next to Naruto's resting spot. He flung the blinds opens and spun on his heels to face his student. "Rise and shine, kid! It's nearly noon!" he beamed, giving Naruto a light shake with his foot. Naruto pulled the covers over his face as the sunlight assaulted his eyes.

"S-Sensei -" he started but his voice betrayed him. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Sensei, I don't think I can train today."

Jiraiya let out a hearty laugh, "come on kid! I didn't think you'd quit that easily!" he made his way to their closet and pulled out Naruto's clothes, spreading them on the bedspread over his feet. "You've been resting all night, time to get a move on!" he smirked, looking at the lump under the blanket. "Plus!" he added happily, "my research is done for now. I'll tell ya what; I'll watch you train," if that's what it'll take to get you out of bed, he finished in his head.

Naruto perked up at this. He'd been begging Jiraiya to watch him train for weeks. Months, even. Before he even started his sage training. Truth be told he was starting to feel hurt. He'd been alone his entire life; shunned and outcast like trash due to the fact that he was the Nine Tailed Fox’ vessel. That wasn't anything new. But Jiraiya filled a spot in his heart that had been missing. He made Naruto feel like he wasn't so alone. But as soon as they left to train for the second time Naruto felt like Jiraiya quickly grew tired of him. Naruto wound up spending most of his time training alone, and Jiraiya was usually off ‘researching’. Sometimes he'd train so hard that he'd pass out and his teacher wouldn't even notice, leaving him out overnight in the cold and rain. Naruto was beginning to feel more alone than ever. His heart constantly ached, but he kept pushing himself. He wouldn't stop until he was strong enough to bring Sasuke home. But the current pressure and stress was taking it's toll. The Nine Tailed Fox chakra was healing him slower and slower; at this point he felt like he was healing even slower than a normal person would. And his mental health was struggling. He felt himself slipping into the void of depression and anxiety, desperate for some real human interaction. He wasn't going to let a stupid headache ruin his chance to make Jiraiya proud.

Jiraiya watched as a puff of yellow hair began to emerge from the blanket. His smile faded slowly as he got a full view of Naruto. He was as pale as a ghost; his hair was limp and stuck to his forehead with sweat. His red rimmed eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and he looked much too thin.

"Really? You mean it?" he asked weakly, pulling himself up. He staggered a bit but was able to steady himself. He couldn't let himself ruin this. Not now. Not for some stupid cold. Jiraiya was prepared to tell Naruto to get back into bed, but with the way he cheered up at the mention of watching him train he knew he couldn't pull the rug out from under the kid. Jiraiya huffed, tossing the clothes on the bedspread into Naruto's hands.

"Yeah, I mean it. But first we're going to get some food. With all the growing you've been doing you're starting to get a bit thin, you look like a twig," Jiraiya masked the worry in his voice with a joke. Naruto let a small smile grow on his face as he gripped his clothes in his hands.

Jiraiya looked around the room nonchalantly. He admittedly had been quite busy lately; he told Naruto he was 'researching,' but in reality he was trying to gain intel on the Akatsuki. It had been at least a week since he'd slept in on actual mattress, let alone checked up on Naruto. He knew the boy always pushed himself to the limit but his optimistic nature and sticktoitiveness kept him going, and tough love was Jiraiya's signature teaching method. He was starting to think that method wouldn't be as effective for someone like Naruto, but the kid needed to grow up. He was almost twenty and was still constantly seeking approval from anyone who would give him the time of day. He had to learn how to satisfy his own needs. But as Jiraiya looked around the room he didn't see the usual litter of snack wrappers and ramen containers that he'd become accustomed to. All he saw were scrolls, blood stained clothing soaking in a soapy basin, and... was that sake?

Jiraiya let out a heaving sigh, "c'mon kid, lets get some food into you."

The thought of food made Naruto's stomach turn. He had to fight down a gag that threatened to escape his lips. He covered it up by clearing his throat and plastering on a hollow smile. He gripped the clothes in his hands tightly and made his way to the bathroom to clean up. He let the door click behind him as he gingerly lifted his night shirt over his head, wincing as the dried blood on his ribs stuck to the fabric of his shirt. He knew he was training too hard, pushing himself to the limit every day. Each day he seemed to have less and less energy, and it took less and less time for him to become exhausted. He had started to become sloppy, getting injured more often than not. He let out a shaky sigh as he turned to face the sink. Naruto almost jumped when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He had dark bags under his eyes that were accentuated by the pale sheen of his skin and he could see his ribs beginning to poke out. He frowned at himself, looking away with shame. Naruto discarded his shirt into the corner and pulled on his fresh one, zippering his jacket slowly. As he bent down to pull up his pants a sudden wave of dizziness threatened to knock him on his ass so he quickly leaned against the wall and slid down, allowing his head to rest on his knees. He took a few shuddering breaths, trying to steady the clenching pain in his stomach. 'Useless. Dirty. Unclean. Monster,' the voice in his head teased, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. Naruto bit his lip in an attempt to stop the tears. He was sick and weak. Usually he could keep the intrusive thoughts in his head at bay, but in his weakened state he was having a hard time suppressing them. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled himself up using the bathroom counter, turning on the cold tap. He splashed his face with water, allowing his mask to slip back on, cementing his mental walls firmly in place.

While Naruto was in the bathroom Jiraiya took a moment to do a more thorough search of the room. He couldn't find any evidence of food wrappers or take out boxes, but he tried to humor himself by thinking that his student was just eating out a lot. The scrolls spread across the floor detailed some advanced techniques; additional chakra natures and expert chakra control. Techniques Naruto should have waited for Jiraiya's help with. The older man frowned as his eyes slid over the sake bottle. He quietly picked up the bottle and gave it a gentle shake; empty. As he stood in the empty room curiosity got the better of him. He sneakily padded over to the bathroom door, hovering his ear against the cool painted wood. At first he only heard silence, but suddenly he heard short, shallow, uneven breaths followed by what sounded like a choked off sob. Jiraiya's heart jumped into his throat and he raised his hand to knock on the door to check on Naruto. Just as his knuckles were about to rap against the door he heard the sink turn on. He leapt back from the door in time for it to swing open, having just enough time to spin on his heels and act as if he was thumbing over a scroll.

Naruto glared at Jiraiya suspiciously before slipping on his sandals.

"Alright, kid, lets go," Jiraiya swung the door open and held it for Naruto as he exited. Naruto looked up at his teacher and gave him one of his trademark boyish grins. Jiraiya felt taken aback about the fact that Naruto was able to hide his emotions as well as he could; after he cleaned himself up he almost looked normal, if not for his puffy eyes and lean physique. Normally he'd brush that off as a long night of training, but today, this time, he knew that thinking that would be wrong. Something was up, and he wasn't going to give up until he got to the bottom of it.

———————

Lunch was uneventful. Naruto tried to act normal but with his watchful eye Jiraiya noticed him expertly pushing his food around on his plate to make it look like he'd eaten most of it. 'How often has he done that without me realizing?' the guilt and worry were eating away at him inside, 'and when did I start to care so much?' So lost in his deep introspection Jiraiya didn't notice Naruto sneaking into the bathroom until a few moments had passed. Naruto's plate was already gone and his utensils sat neatly on his folded napkin. Jiraiya narrowed his eyes and waited a minute before trailing him, trying to be sleek. He pushed the door open slowly and was greeted by the sound of Naruto coughing; a dry, deep nagging cough that sounded painful.

"You alright in there?" Jiraiya asked from outside the stall, trying to hide the concern in his voice.

Naruto cleared his throat and forced out a nonchalant laugh, "y-yeah, just allergies! You know me, sensei, nothing can keep me down for long."

He flushed the toilet and staggered out of the stall, joining Jiraiya at the sinks as they both washed their hands. As much as he wanted to take the kid back to their room and drill him about his odd behavior, he wanted to give Naruto a chance to come to him on his own. He didn't want to pry; in reality it was none of his business. He was Naruto's teacher, not his dad and not his best friend. But something about this was different and Jiraiya couldn't quite place his finger on it; all he knew was that the sudden concern he had for Naruto made him unseasy. He wasn't one to invest so much into his student's personal lives, let alone their mental health. But the alarm bells were going off in his head and he couldn't quiet them. He needed to get to the bottom of this; whether Naruto wanted to do this the easy way or the hard way was up to him.

"Lets get a move on! We only have so much sunlight left," Jiraiya placed a hand on Naruto's shoulder as they headed towards their training spot.

———————

Naruto had certainly been training hard. By the amount of fallen trees, scuff marks, and rasengan impact points in the area Naruto had certainly been training hard in Jiraiya's absence.

"Been busy I see! Happy to see you haven't just been slacking off while I've been away," he jokingly elbowed Naruto in the ribs, gauging his reaction.

Naruto winced but tried to play it off as a chuckle, "well yeah sensei, I couldn't just sit around waiting for you to get back. Besides, I'm used to training alone since you seem to have little interest in helping me train anyway!" he glared up at his teacher with a smirk on his face, "plus, Ero-sennin, I've been doing just fine without you!"

It was Jiraiya's turn to glare at Naruto, "I thought I told you not to call me that. And I'm here now, aren't I? So show me what you've been working so hard on." Jiraiya dropped his pack onto the ground by a tree and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to feel for himself just where Naruto's skills had increased to, and what a better way to do that than sparing?

Naruto rolled his eyes as he jumped into position, "you sure you really want that old man? I don't want to hurt you," he giggled childishly, reaching into his pouch for a kunai.

"Just come at me," Jiraiya chided, watching for Naruto's move, his patience wearing thin.

As usual Naruto didn't try to make a calculated move, he ran straight for Jiraiya while pulling the kunai from his pouch, throwing the knife as a distraction while raising his leg for a kick. Jiraiya easily dodged the kunai and grabbed his foot, giving it a light twist to throw off Naruto's center of gravity. He noted the ease at which he was able to dodge him and throw him off balance, something which was usually quite hard with Naruto. The twisting of his leg made Naruto divert his attention, but he took advantage of the movement by reaching out his hands towards the ground. He used his palms to redirect his energy, pushing up off the ground and aiming a kick straight at the back of Jiraiya's head. Jiraiya bent forward a bit, causing Naruto's foot to just barely graze his mane of silvery hair, and he reached out his arm and gently pushed Naruto's hip while he was still upside down trying to regain his footing. The move made Naruto stumble a bit, giving Jiraiya time to spin around and grab his student by both arms, getting him in a headlock.

"C'mon kid, is this really the best you got? If this is how you've been training then I really haven't been missing much," he teased, trying to rile his student up enough to bring out the fight in him. That pissed Naruto off. The first time his sensei comes to watch him train in weeks and this was the best he could do? The pain in his head slowed him down and made him see double, while the unending stomach cramps made it difficult for him to stand up straight.

He took a moment to catch his breath and will his stomach to settle. He smirked, "I was just warming up!" Naruto jumped back and prepared his hand signs.

"Shadow clone jutsu!" he called out, spawning ten clones of himself. A few ran forward to engage Jiraiya in combat while he hung back with the rest, preparing a rasengan. He focused his chakra on his palm, finding it exceedingly difficult to draw enough out to make an adequately sized ball. The change in chakra form was enough to almost completely exhaust him. The feeling of disappointment rose up and crashed over him in waves. Talentless. A waste of space. A waste of air. A waste of life. He growled and sprung into action, launching himself into the air to gain some speed and momentum. "Rasengan!" he snarled, aiming straight for Jiraiya who was able to easily dodge Naruto's attack. Naruto landed on the ground and felt the shock waves of pain ricochet up his arm as his hand collided with the ground, a deep indent scarring the earth. The pain seemed to go straight up to his temples, the dull roar of his headache spiking up to a splitting pain. He winced and rested on his knee for a moment while Jiraiya grinned down at him.

"Come on Naruto, how do you plan to get Sasuke back with that crap? You can't even put a scratch on me! When did you get so weak?"

Weak. The word bounced around his head like a boomerang. You're weak. Naruto's face scrunched up into a sneer. He got up to his feet so quickly that all Jiraiya saw was a blur. The only still image he was able to catch was Naruto's eyes slitting dangerously. In his state Jiraiya knew Naruto couldn't handle a surge of the Fox's chakra - he was trying to avoid hurting the boy but he needed to put a stop to this. Naruto snarled as he launched himself into the air and quickly descended upon Jiraiya, a harsh blow landing across his teacher's face. Jiraiya slid back a few feet and had just enough time to block his head before Naruto landed another blow. Before he could get a defensive hit in of his own Naruto was already spinning around, dodging Jiraiya's first while also aiming a hit of his own at the older man's ribs. Jiraiya jumped up and dipped behind Naruto's back, moving quickly enough to slide Naruto's feet out from under him. The younger man hit the ground with a thud, all the air in his lungs painfully rushing out in a whoosh. He gasped as the pain shot through his body like lightning, setting every nerve ending ablaze. He managed to turn onto his side as he fought to regain the ability to breathe, coughing and spluttering. Jiraiya narrowed his eyes, 'he should have recovered from that by now; I've seen him get flung halfway across a forest and get up as if nothing happened. This isn't good.' He sighed as he reached down to offer Naruto a hand, but quickly jumped back when he saw clawed fingers swat his hand away. 'Shit, the transformation has started, I need to end this before he takes on the Nine Tail's cloak.' Jiraiya balled his hands into fists and watched as Naruto struggled to his feet, pausing for a moment with his hands on his knees.

"You alright over there?" Jiraiya asked cautiously. All he got in response was an animalistic growl, red cat eyes meeting his gaze.

"Stop going easy on me, old man. I'm not a fucking child!" Naruto snapped, jumping into action.

The two spared for a moment, hands and feet flying in a blur. Naruto caught Jiraiya in the jaw, sending his teacher gliding back. Jiraiya spat out blood that was gushing from his bottom lip as he waited for Naruto to make his next move. The boy dashed towards him with a snarl, clawed hand raised and ready to strike. 'This needs to end. Now!' Jiraiya balled his fist and hit Naruto full force in the stomach as soon as he was about to get slashed. The blow sent Naruto flying back, a crack echoing around the clearing as his back connected with a tree. Jiraiya held his position as the dust settled, waving his hand back and forth in front of his face as he attempted to get a glimpse of Naruto. He took a few hasty steps as Naruto's silhouette began to come into his line of vision. He saw Naruto struggling to stand, using the tree trunk to steady himself. Once the dust settled and Jiraiya was able to get a real look at his student he noticed that he was shaking all over, strong tremors rocking his whole body. He back was pressed against the tree and his hands rested on his knees, his face blocked by hair and shadows. His claws and fangs had retracted so Jiraiya felt comfortable getting closer.

"... Naruto?" Jiraiya asked gently once he was about halfway across the clearing. Naruto's face slowly turned up towards his teacher, a stupid grin plastered onto his face, but the tremors revealed his true pain.

"I-I'm fine, sensei; that was a good hit you got in but it won't happen again!" He reached up and brushed a hand through his hair, freezing when his fingers reached the back of his head. Something slick was coating his fingertips; something warm and sticky. Blood. He shakily pulled his hand away from his head and stared at the blood dripping from his fingers, snaking it's way down to his elbow.

"Naruto!" Jiraiya sprang into action as his student's eyes went wide with shock before rolling into the back of his head. He reached his arms out just in time to catch Naruto's limp body before he landed in a heap on the ground.

———————

Inky darkness spread around him, swirling like smoke. He felt the uncomfortably warm waist deep water surrounding him; caressing his skin, it's putrid odor making his stomach turn. Somewhere close behind him he heard an insidious chuckle and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

'Weak. You're still so weak,' the voice boomed. Naruto shuttered as a rotting smell reached him; a smell of death and decay. The air was thick with it, assaulting his nostrils whenever the voice spoke. 'You're pathetic. Why do you even try? Just give up. Give in to me. I can make you strong.' A cold chill ran up his spine as he pushed himself up onto unsteady feet. He looked around frightfully as he tried to get his bearings. He reached his hands up to try to wipe the sweat off his forehead but somehow it made his skin feel slicker, stickier, warm... Naruto looked down at his hands and gasped, falling backwards into the water as he realized his hands were covered in blood. He desperately tried to scrub the blood off his hands as another snicker exploded into his eardrums, 'see what you've done? See what you've become? You're a monster, whether you give in to me or not. I will overcome you. I will wipe out your village; I'll kill each and every friend you've ever known while wearing your face. You'll feel their bones break beneath your fingers. You'll taste their blood.'  Images of death and chaos flashed before his eyes; The Hidden Leaf Village burning to the ground, all of his friend's bodies scatted over rubble, Kakashi's decapitated head on a stake. Naruto sobbed and squeezed his palms onto his eyes.

"No! That won't happen! I won't let you!" he cried, whipping his head back and forth trying to find the source of the voice. Finally he saw an ominous crimson smoke billowing from the darkness, a pair of gigantic red eyes peering at him from the void. The voice laughed heartily, causing the walls and ground to shake. 'Don't you see, you stupid boy, you already have.' Naruto plunged his hands back into the water, struggling to see through the tears in his eyes.The blood wouldn't budge; each time he tried to wash it off it just grew and multiplied, coating his arms up to the elbows. And then he saw it; the water he was sitting in was a river of blood. Fresh and hot. Naruto sobbed, broken in half and hollow. 'Why am I alive?'

'Naruto. Naruto!' A voice was calling out to him from the darkness, a pinprick of light appearing above him. He stood, wanting to reach out and grab it, follow it out of this Hell. But he couldn't move, those eyes had him paralyzed. 'Naruto!' The voice called out again as the beam of light grew. Naruto reached up his hands, jumping into the beam of light and letting it envelop him. The ominous voice screeched ferociously and Naruto felt a clawed hand try to grab him, but the darkness was already receding and he was pulled fully into the light.

———————

Naruto awoke from his nightmare, colors and sounds rushing back to him in a blur. He felt hands on his face, rough and calloused, pushing back his hair and gently slapping his cheek.

"Fuck, you're burning up!" a voice growled as he felt his body being shaken. "Naruto, wake the fuck up!" the familiar voice barked. Naruto seemed to come back down into reality as he heard his name. The voice was Jiraiya sensei! A sick groan escaped Naruto's lips as he attempted to roll on his side, but he found himself firmly held in Jiraiya's lap. "Naruto! Stay with me now," Jiraiya exclaimed, his forehead creased and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Naruto went to rub his eyes but caught a whiff of something metallic - blood! His eyes flew open and he stared at the blood coating his hand. He wriggled free from Jiraiya's grasp just in time to roll to his side off his lap, landing on the ground hard, a pain surging through his chest from the impact. His fingers clenched into the dirt as he gagged, a rush of stomach acid burning his throat. A wave of vomit splashed onto the ground as Naruto choked and retched, involuntary tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Suddenly he felt a hand on his back, rubbing in circles. 

Jiraiya helped Naruto to his knees so he wasn't laying in a puddle of his own vomit, leaving a strong hand on the boy's shoulder to help hold him steady. Naruto hissed in pain as his body betrayed him, spluttering and heaving over the ground as his stomach refused to settle. He coughed up a dribble of bile, a long string of saliva hanging from his lips. Jiraiya pushed back Naruto's hair, hushing him and gently whispering reassurances and encouragement; you're good, I've got you, I'm so sorry. Jiraiya's heart broke in two as he watched his student struggling. The back of  his head was coated in blood and dirt, 'because of me,' and Naruto was puking in a field - 'even though I knew something was up and decided to push him to his limits instead of forcing him to take it easy,'  Jiraiya thought to himself bitterly. He wasn't used to the feelings he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he should stick to his old ways or model and change his tactics to Naruto's needs... to his own needs. He felt Naruto's breathing change below his grip; quick and unsteady, gasping, hyperventilating. He gripped Naruto's shoulder and smoothed the boy's hair back. "Breathe, kid, you need to breathe. Steady, now. You're okay. I'm here," Jiraiya murmured, letting his fingers linger over the back of Naruto's head, trying to gauge how bad his injury was.

The gash was deep with ragged edges but the bone was undisturbed. Naruto dry heaved one last time before sliding his feet underneath him, settling his ass on the ground, arms cradling his head against his knees. He broke down into tears, gasping for breath between sobs, his chest clenched tight. "It's all my fault!" he finally managed to choke out. Jiraiya scrunched his eyebrows together and reached out to wrap an arm around Naruto's shoulders, but the boy quickly flinched away. His head whipped up as he held an arm in front of him, "g-get away from me! I-I'll only hurt you!" he sobbed, delirious with fever.

"Naruto... what are you talking about?" the older man murmured as he tried to approach Naruto again, letting a hand rest on the boy's knee.

Naruto hiccuped and coughed, shrinking away from Jiraiya's touch, tears streaking his face. "Their blood," Naruto cried, holding up his hands as if to prove his point, "the blood of The Village is on my hands. I'm a monster - there's a monster inside me. If you don't get away - i-if you stay here... I'll kill you." Naruto pitched forward involuntarily as his stomach clenched, forcing up a painful dry cough. He struggled as he dry heaved repeatedly, his entire body shaking violently.

"Easy, easy..." Jiraiya soothed, slipping behind Naruto and placing a hand on his back, rubbing in light circles. Naruto's body was utterly exhausted; nothing left to throw up and no energy to resist the unending sickness in his stomach. Once he was done Jiraiya pulled the boy closer to him to examine his wound. His powers of healing were rudimentary, but he had picked up a few pointers from Tsunade over the years. He concentrated his chakra and held his hand over Naruto's wound. The healing was slow and painful, the Fox clearly wasn't even attempting to heal Naruto this time around. 'That explains why he's so sick. In all my years of training with Naruto I've never seen him have more than a slight sniffle. The Fox isn't healing him; whether he's unable to or just rebelling is something I'll need to figure out,'  he thought to himself as Naruto's gash finally started to knit back together.

The boy sat in his lap, sniffling and coughing, shaking miserably from the pain coursing through his body. As soon as the cut was healed Naruto slumped backwards into Jiraiya's chest. Jiraiya sighed and scooted Naruto fully into his lap, using his sleeve to wipe off his face. A move like that would usually have Naruto calling him a pervert, but for now it brought him comfort. Naruto's hands clutched onto the front of Jiraiya's vestments, snuggling his face into the fabric. 'He must be sick to be acting like this,' he frowned, sighing as he began to push himself up, cradling Naruto to his chest. The sudden movement made it feel like he had the spins, wincing as he squeezed his eyes tight. "Just hang on," Jiraiya adjusted the heap of a boy in his arms before leaping off into action, rushing them back to their room.

———————

Jiraiya placed Naruto onto the couch, keeping one hand firmly planted on his student’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over. Naruto was slipping in and out of consciousness; his high fever intermingling with his concussion, creating a deadly combination. Jiraiya unzipped Naruto’s jacket and gently slid the sleeves over his shoulders and down his arms. He slid his pants down and then removed his undershirt, leaves his boxers for dignity’s sake.

“Alright, up ya go,” he muttered as he picked Naruto up from under his arms, carrying him into the bathroom so he could get him in a cool bath. Even without being a medical ninja Jiraiya could tell Naruto's fever was reaching the danger zone. He flipped on the taps and then settled onto the floor, cradling Naruto’s broken frame in his hands. Other than his blatant sickness and concussion Jiraiya was able to detect multiple cracked ribs in various states of repair, multiple strained muscles, a snapped ligament in his left knee, and a litany of bruises and cuts. How Naruto even managed to pull himself out of bed that morning was a miracle.

Once the tub was full Jiraiya turned off the taps and gently placed Naruto into the tub. As soon as he was in the water his eyes flashed open.

“C-cold! L-let me out of here!” he struggled to get out of the tub but was too weak to put up much of a fight. Jiraiya grabbed both of Naruto’s wrists and tried to hold them down, so Naruto used his feet as leverage to try to slide out of the tub.

“Damn it Naruto, stay still! If I don’t cool you down your brain’s gonna fry!” Jiraiya exclaimed, struggling against Naruto’s constant wriggling. Finally he heaved a sigh, “shit, you owe me one, kid,” he glared at the boy as he stood up and stepped into the tub, a quick shiver making its way up his spine as the lower part of his pants got soaked. He slid down into the lukewarm water, wrapping his arms around Naruto’s chest, forcing the boy’s arms still as he straddled his back to keep him from bucking out of the tub. For a moment he just held him, waiting for the harsh shivers to stop shaking Naruto’s thin frame, and especially for him to stop resisting.

As soon as Naruto relaxed Jiraiya took the washcloth from the towel rack and wet it, squeezing out the excess water. He wiped the dirt and blood off of Naruto’s body and neck, pressing gently as to avoid hurting him (even more than he already had). Naruto’s head lolled back into the crook of Jiraiya’s neck, snuggling his face into the crazy mane of silvery hair, seeking warmth. Once Jiraiya was done with the washcloth he rinsed it, squeezed it, and folded it in half, laying it over Naruto’s forehead and eyes. Jiraiya grabbed a cup from the side of the tub and filled it with water before dumping it over Naruto’s hair, gently massaging the dried blood and dirt from it. As he massaged his scalp he couldn’t help but notice Naruto’s toes curling, a barely audible moan deep in his throat. The older man couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“You’re never gonna live this down, and you’re never gonna call me a pervert again,” he smiled to himself as he washed the last of the blood away. It was the first time in weeks that he’d seen Naruto actually relaxed and he felt guilty taking it away so soon, especially after he’d injured him so badly, so he kept massaging his scalp. He grabbed the shampoo from the rack above him and squirted some into his hand before lathering it in Naruto’s honey yellow hair. He noticed Naruto begin to shake again and he stopped, reaching to grab for the cup so he could wash the shampoo away and get them into some warm, dry clothes.

But as Naruto spoke he froze in place; “p-please don’t stop.” He wasn’t shivering, he was crying. Naruto had never been shown this amount of affection. He didn’t have parents to take care of him as a child, having to rely on trial and error, mostly error at that. The most he’d get was a side hug from Sakura every now and then, a ruffle of his hair from Kakashi, maybe an arm around his shoulder. Whenever he was injured or sick he’d be healed and that would be the end of it - once his physical problems were gone no one was there to clean up the rest of the mess; no one to comfort him or make sure he was coping well. He was always the one being relied on for the comforting. It was taxing, Naruto constantly was the one who needed to swoop in and save the day. No one ever considered that he was the one breaking apart and needed saving. To be honest, Naruto had never felt this sort of closeness with someone; he’d barely had any physical interactions with people period.

Jiraiya frowned deeply, his heart breaking for the boy. “I won’t,” he whispered, continuing to rub the shampoo gently into Naruto’s scalp. Naruto tried to pull himself together as his fever broke and he was pulled back down into consciousness, but he was overwhelmed with anxiety and gratitude. No one had even attempted to show him this amount of kindness. It had been so long since he’d even imagined being this close with someone; he’d blocked even the possibility of feeling this way out of his mind. Now that it was actually happening he was stuck in a stunned stupor, not even attempting to fight back the tears on his cheeks. He wanted to thank Jiraiya but a part of him was terrified that speaking would break the spell; that Jiraiya would realize what he was doing, who he was doing it to, and leave him again just like all those months ago after their first training session when he wouldn’t even give Naruto the time of day. So much had changed since then. No matter how much he felt like he pushed himself he felt like he’d just wind up taking two steps back. He perfected the rasenshuriken and then had it banned from his repertoire due to the collateral damage. He was quickly running out of time to get Sasuke back, only a few months remaining until they’d set out again, and he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror. He knew he’d fail. Jiraiya must have known too considering the fact he wouldn’t even be in the same room as him.

Jiraiya rinsed Naruto’s hair and placed the cup on the floor, pausing for a second as he waited for Naruto to move. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This might be the last time he’d feel like this again. At that thought Naruto broke. He ripped the washcloth off his face and replaced it with his hands, sitting up in the tub in a feeble attempt to distance himself from Jiraiya. He couldn’t handle being rejected again so he figured it would hurt less if he did the rejecting. But he was too weak to run and his attempt to get up ended in him slipping back down into Jiraiya’s strong hands.

“Naruto, stop,” he demanded a bit harder than he meant to, “you’re going to get hurt,” he added more gently, getting a grip on Naruto’s upper arms to hold him firmly in place. Naruto gave up his struggle and pressed his palms into his eye sockets.

“It already does hurt,” he cried, allowing himself to collapse upon Jiraiya’s chest. Jiraiya stayed silent for a moment, letting Naruto cry, fighting the urge to soothe him because he needed the kid to talk. He could feel how tense he was, it hung in the air like an all consuming smoke.

“You need to talk to me, I need to know what’s going on,” Jiraiya pressed, hugging the boy close to him. It took Naruto a minute to regain his composure.

“I-I can’t, you’ll just leave... You’ll just leave like everyone else...”

“I’m not going anywhere. But we do need to get out of this tub. I’m turning into a prune,” he joked, trying to lighten the tension.

Jiraiya helped Naruto up, wrapping a towel around his shoulders before guiding him back into their room, sitting him on the couch as he went to retrieve their clothes. They both dressed in silence - Jiraiya contemplating his next move as Naruto just wished he could disappear; get as far away as he could before he was rejected. Naruto sat on the couch sniffling, trying to ignore the pain exploding in his temples, exacerbated by his stuffy nose and tears. Jiraiya grabbed the blanket from his futon before wrapping it around Naruto’s shoulders.

“You’re my comrade; we eat together, fight together, live together, train together... I need to know what’s going on with you. You need to let me help you,” Jiraiya took a seat next to Naruto, staring at him patiently. Naruto just shook his head, hiding himself beneath the covers. He couldn’t face him; not while he was bearing his soul.

“If I’m honest you’ll just leave... N-no, you’ll leave regardless... just like everyone else. I’ll serve whatever purpose you have for me, and then I’ll be discarded with all the other things that have lose their usefulness,” he started, “I’m just a tool. Just a stepping stone in everyone’s journey. Once I serve my purpose I’m thrown aside. I save the girl, then she’s gone. I train with Sasuke and then he leaves to pursue power I can’t offer. I make promises and can’t keep them,” Naruto cried, shoulders shaking, stomach twisting into knots. "I-I'm a monster, people just use me for the power that I have and then they leave. I'm disgusting. A reminder of a past that everyone just wants to forget. A reminder of death," Naruto felt anger starting to bubble up in his chest. "I took so much from everyone... from you... the Fourth Hokage... All I do is cause pain... I shouldn't be alive," the last part of his sentence was said in a whisper so quiet that it was barely audible, but Jiraiya felt as if it was screamed directly into his ears.

"Don't say that. That isn't true. You aren't a monster. And you didn't take anything from anyone. You saved the village. The Fourth Hokage did what he needed to do to protect the Village and he was damn proud to do it. Don't tarnish his name by saying that he was murdered; he sacrificed himself to save his people. To save you also, Naruto," Jiraiya clapped a hand down on Naruto's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "Fuck what anyone else says, what anyone else does, I need you and that isn't going to change. I need you to be alive. You're my student and I'm going to protect you with both arms. I'm not going anywhere, and that's a promise. You're the strongest, hardest working, most incredible shinobi I have ever had the honor to train. Even stronger than the Fourth," Jiraiya tried to get a peek at Naruto's face but he was so tightly wound up in the blankets that all he could see was yellow hair. "Fuck those girls, fuck Sakura, fuck the Village, and honestly, fuck Sasuke," Jiraiya spat angerly, "what matters is you. You're incredible, and you're going to be hokage one say. I swear on my life. I will help you reach that dream. You aren't a tool and you aren't worthless. The village needs you. I need you," Jiraiya started to pull the blankets away. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, finally finding Naruto's face among the duvet. Naruto looked up at him with his tear stained face, all puffy and red, but he could see the hope glimmering in his eyes for the first time in weeks. Naruto couldn't find the words to speak, he just threw his arms around Jiraiya's neck and allowed his teacher to hold him as he cried, short bursts of anguish and anxiety purging from his body. He sniffled weakly as the tears finally stopped, allowing himself to rest against Jiraiya. He wouldn't admit it, but Jiraiya's arms felt safe - they felt right.  He didn't want to move, not yet. He needed to relish this moment as long as he could because he knew he'd likely never feel this safe again.

Jiraiya just sat there, thoughts zipping through his mind too quickly to really hold on to any of them. He'd never let anyone bring out this side of him, let alone one of his students. Not even his old girlfriends had seen this side of him. But something about Naruto was different, especially when he was in such a state. For someone so optimistic and strong to fall this hard, something must seriously be wrong and it broke Jiraiya's heart. He needed to do whatever he could to help Naruto. He wasn't surprised that he'd pushed himself hard enough to break his own ribs, but he'd never expect a mental breakdown of this magnitude. However, with the way Naruto had been treated his whole life, he knew it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew he should have been helping him train mentally as well as physically, and he cursed himself for not noticing the signs sooner. 'And now he wants to die,' he thought to himself bitterly, subconsciously gripping the boy to him even harder. 'That won't happen, not to him, not while I'm around,' Jiraiya promised himself, allowing his eyes to close for some much needed rest.

They sat that way for a while before Naruto started to stir, swinging his legs over the side of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Suddenly he groaned, shivers traveling along his spine, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

"Naruto...? You alright, kiddo?" Jiraiya asked lightly, placing a hand on Naruto's shoulder. Naruto groaned again, an arm wrapping around his abdomen defensively.

"I-I’m so nauseous," he choked out, wincing as his stomach felt like it was being stabbed by white hot stakes. Naruto had never really been sick like this due to the Nine Tailed Fox's healing abilities, so he wasn't coping well. The pounding pain in his head was blinding and he didn't know how to handle it, his stomach joining the revolt. He didn't know how to ease the pain, how to help himself to make it end. Naruto fought back the tears forming in his eyes, astonished that he even had any tears left to cry. Another searing cramp shot through his stomach and he gasped, bending forward into his knees over the edge of the couch to try to subdue the pain.

"It's alright, I've gotcha," Jiraiya soothed, gently rubbing Naruto's back.

"M-Make it go away," Naruto cried, fingernails digging into his side, trying to claw the pain away.

"I would if I could, kid. You just need to ride it out. I'll get you some water," Jiraiya offered, getting up from the couch to fill a glass with water from the bathroom tap. Naruto took the glass from his hand but just held it for a moment, contemplating.

"If I drink it I'll just throw up again," he muttered.

Jiraiya frowned and sighed, "that may be true but you need to try. You're definitely dehydrated and that'll make the pain worse," he plopped back down on the couch beside Naruto. The boy eyed the water suspiciously before taking a small sip. The water soothed his abused, dry throat and he started chugging large mouthfuls. "Not too much!" Jiraiya exclaimed, grabbing the cup from Naruto before he downed the whole thing. Naruto jumped a bit when Jiraiya took the cup from him, but he quickly understood what he meant. He felt the water flow into his empty stomach which promptly clenched, sending a torrent of pain through is abdomen. Naruto winced, folding back down into his knees in an attempt to squeeze the pain away. "Told ya," Jiraiya said sadly, pulling the blanket up around Naruto's shoulders to try to ease his shaking. Naruto felt a cold sweat breaking out over his body, his mouth filling with saliva.

“Ugh, I’m gonna puke,” a hand flew to his mouth before he gagged emptily over the ground between his knees.

“Shit,” Jiraiya sprung into action, grabbing the metal garbage can in the corner of the room with lightning speed, shoving it into Naruto’s hands as he dry heaved. Naruto swallowed compulsively, fighting the bile attempting to crawl up his throat. He groaned sickly, trying to avoid the unavoidable. “Don’t fight it, you’ll only make it worse,” Jiraiya coached, “just let it out.” Naruto coughed and gagged, holding the can in a death grip as a stream of water and bile splashed into the can, the unmistakable sound of liquid hitting metal. “There ya go, I’ve gotcha,” Jiraiya soothed, brushing Naruto’s hair out of his eyes. Naruto’s stomach kept twisting, seemingly unending dry heaves wracking his body. He retched before burping up another wave of water, gasping for air between gags. Jiraiya waited a few moments for Naruto to calm down before reaching out for the can, “think you’re done?” Naruto spit into the can and then reached up and wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling miserably.

“N-No,” he choked out before retching painfully.

“You’re all cleaned out, there’s nothing left. Sitting over it won’t help; I’ll wash this out, the smell is definitely not helping,” Jiraiya stated as he took the can from Naruto, carrying it into the bathroom. He emptied the can into the toilet and then washed it out in the sink. He reached for a washcloth and wet it with cool water, squeezing out the excess water so it wouldn’t drip. He placed the can next to Naruto on the couch just in case he needed it again and took back his spot on the couch. Jiraiya pushed Naruto’s hair off his forehead, sticky with sweat, and placed the washcloth on his fever-hot skin. Naruto signed in relief, allowing himself to sink into Jiraiya’s lap as he tried to rest his exhausted body. Naruto fell asleep in Jiraiya's arms, nestled in his lap on the couch. 

Jiraiya held Naruto for an hour, trying to last as long as he could before his shoulders ached and his legs were cramping. His body was begging to move but he didn't want to disturb Naruto. He held his breathe as he started to lift himself up off the couch, sliding the boy onto the cushions. Thankfully Naruto didn't wake up and he was able to replace his lap with a pillow. Jiraiya sighed as he made his way over to his futon, grabbing the blanket from Naruto's half of the room as the boy was currently cuddled up with his. He laid down and began to let his mind wander. The way that Naruto was talking shook him to his core. The last person he knew who was talking like that wound up sacrificing themselves on a mission. 'Over my dead body,' Jiraiya hissed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try to make the thoughts stop. 'I need to do something about this, I need to help him.' With that he started drifting into a dreamless sleep.

———————

Jiraiya woke up some time later with a start, his eyes snapping open as some unknown noise awoke him. Something was wrong, alarm bells were going off in his head. He laid silently as he scanned the room for any danger. They were still alone but something was clearly amiss. “Naruto...?” he whispered sleepily as he glanced at the couch he’d left the younger man on; it was empty and the blanket and pillow were gone. He looked to Naruto’s futon and saw that empty as well. Instantly on high alert Jiraiya jumped up, prepared to put his shoes on to go looking for the boy. Just as he was about to throw his scroll onto his back he noticed the shine of light under the bathroom door. He padded over to the door silently, gently knocking against the wood. All he got in return was a series of violent dry coughs; deep and hacking, tearing and searing. “I’m coming in,” he announced as he turned the knob, taking in the scene in front of him. 

Naruto had made a makeshift bed on the bathroom floor, his pillow and blanket sitting on a few laid out towels. Naruto was on the ground in front of the toilet - his legs were bent on either side of him, sitting on his feet for leverage, one arm draped over the toilet seat as the other clutched his stomach. His head hung over the bowl as he struggled, so exhausted he could barely hold himself up. Jiraiya’s heart jumped into his throat as he stared down at the boy, wishing he could take away his pain. Just then Naruto let out a choked off sob, grimacing as a tearing pain ripped across his abdomen. He subconsciously pressed down a hand over the pain, crying out as the pain increased. Red flags were waving in front of Jiraiya’s eyes; ‘a regular upset stomach shouldn’t be this painful. I’ve seen him break almost every bone in his body and still pull himself up, this isn’t right.’  Naruto glanced up at Jiraiya, his big deep blue eyes were glassy and filled with tears, his pupils slit like cat eyes, desperation obvious on his face as he clenched his fanged teeth. ‘The Fox is clearly trying to heal him but it doesn’t seem to be working, this isn’t good,’ Jiraiya thought as he knelt down next to Naruto, one hand pressing back the sweaty hair on his forehead to gauge his fever as the other went to his stomach. As soon as his fingers pressed down on Naruto’s stomach the boy cried out in pain, rolling up onto his side to escape Jiraiya’s hand.

”Where does it hurt?” Jiraiya pried, letting his hand linger over Naruto’s too hot forehead, trying to comfort him however he could. Naruto groaned, struggling to straighten out his legs, his hand lingering over his left side.

“M-My stomach,” he hissed.

Jiraiya’s brows furrowed as he examined Naruto, concentrating chakra in his palm to prepare his basic medical ninjutsu, “that’s not your stomach, that’s your rib cage.”  Jiraiya hovered his hand over the lower left side of Naruto’s ribs, quickly pulling his hand back. ‘All that coughing and puking must have disturbed his healing ribs; the bone is fractured and piercing his stomach,’ he thought to himself, the situation instantly becoming dire. “Naruto, this is going to hurt like a bitch. Please try to stay still, I’ve gotcha,” Jiraiya murmured, concentrating his chakra to his hand again. His medical ninjutsu skills weren’t advanced enough to fix all of the damage that had been done but he could at least try to correct the bone fragment piercing Naruto’s stomach. As soon as he laid his hand down on Naruto’s rib the younger man yelped in pain, shaking violently as he tried to restrain from moving away from Jiraiya’s hand. Jiraiya cursed to himself as he healed Naruto; it was taking way too long. Normally it would take only a few quick moments to heal Naruto due to his natural healing abilities but now he was healing even slower than the usual person would, slower even than a person without any chakra control at all. “I’m so sorry, Naruto, just a little longer,” he promised, gripping his free hand down on Naruto’s shoulder to try to help hold him still. The pain was blinding, like his ribs were being shattered with a hammer as his stomach twisted into knots, it felt like his entire abdomen was being filled with liquid fire. ‘The bone is back in place and the hole is closed but I can’t do more. The bone is still broken and I can’t heal viral illness or heal the damage that has been done to his stomach other than repairing the tear, he’ll need to heal in his own time,’ Jiraiya sighed with exasperation as he pulled his hand away.

As soon as Jiraiya removed his hand Naruto quickly shot up from his spot on the floor, grabbing the toilet seat with both hands. He retched violently and then followed it up with a painful fit of coughing. His stomach rebelled and clenched, forcing Naruto to gag up a dribble of bile. He sobbed silently as he clung onto the toilet seat, waiting for the next round of dry heaving. Jiraiya stood and grabbed a cup from the counter, filling it with cool water from the sink. He knelt down next to Naruto, placing the cup beside him as Naruto got sick. He rubbed the boys back gently. “I know you’re going to hate me for this, but you need to drink this water. It’ll hurt less to have water in your stomach when you get sick rather than  leaving your stomach empty. You’re going to hurt your ribs,” Jiraiya said seriously, picking up the glass and holding it out for Naruto. The boy reached out a trembling hand, carefully taking the glass. He held it to his lips and slowly took a few sips before setting it down on the floor. He laid his head down on his arm over the toilet seat, waiting for the inevitable. His body allowed him to have a few moments to rest before it forced him to pitch forward, violently vomiting up the water. “You’re okay, I’ve gotcha,” Jiraiya encouraged for the nth time. Naruto coughed and retched miserably, feeling like his stomach was being torn to shreds, a string of saliva clinging to his lips. He heaved forward as another rush of liquid splashed into the toilet. Naruto coughed harshly as the heaving started to ebb. He spit into the bowl and then reached up to wipe off his mouth and stared at his sleeve with shock; blood. “Fuck,” Jiraiya spat out as he glanced between the blood on Naruto’s sleeve and the bright crimson liquid in the bowl.

Naruto stared at his sleeve, unable to move his gaze, his eyes frozen wide. “Naruto? You with me?” Jiraiya asked at the boys sudden silence.

Blood. Blood on his hands. Everyone’s blood on his hands. All the people he couldn’t save, all the people he lost, all the people he killed. Visions of death and destruction flashed before his eyes; the Nine Tailed Fox taking over his body, absolute chaos, killing everyone he had ever cared about, chewing on a dismembered arm. Naruto screamed, hyperventilating, eyes wide with panic. Everything went red, drowning in the metallic liquid.

———————

The next thing he knew he was laying on his futon, a cool washcloth over his forehead and eyes. He groaned as he reached up to remove the cloth from his head but his hand was quickly swatted away. He shifted the cloth higher up so he could see, immediately coming face to face with Jiraiya who was sitting on his bedside. “You scared me there, kid,” he forced a smile, “you had internal bleeding from your rib piercing your stomach. I’ve fixed you up as best as I could but you need to stop puking so much; you’re gonna kill yourself!” Jiraiya tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Naruto didn’t find it funny. He winced as he rolled onto his side away from Jiraiya.

“Yeah I wish,” he muttered, closing his eyes, wishing himself asleep.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jiraiya spat, gripping Naruto’s upper arm and forcing him to face him.

Naruto looked down ashamedly, “nothing. Just forget it, it doesn’t matter...” he whispered, ripping his arm out of Jiraiya’s grasp.

“What are you talking about? Of course it matters. We’re going to talk about this. Now,” Jiraiya demanded, moving to the other side of Naruto’s bed to force the boy to face him.

Naruto sat up with a wince, “no, it doesn’t matter. What do you care? All you care about is me doing my job. Well I’m done doing what other people want me to do. Just leave me alone,” he hissed, wrapping his arms around himself defensively.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why do I care? Why do I care?!” he said harshly, anger boiling inside of his chest. “If I didn’t care would I have been sitting here all day playing nurse? Does that seem like a role I’d usually play? I’ve been up here all day taking care of your sorry ass. Look at the position you’ve put yourself into; you need to take better care of yourself. You need to get your shit together. After everything we’ve worked so hard on you want to just give up? Throw everything away?” Jiraiya noticed his voice rising but he was too angry to control it. “And what about Sasuke? Let me guess, fuck that too, right? The Akatsuki? You’re just going to ignore them and let them take all the other Jinchuriki? Like Gaara? You’re just gonna drop everything so you can wallow in your shit? Not gonna happen. Not while I’m around. When did you get so weak?” Jiraiya hissed, seething with rage.

Naruto laid back down, pulling the covers high up around his neck. “Yeah, fuck Sasuke. Fuck the Akatsuki. Fuck you,” Naruto growled, hiding beneath his covers. Jiraiya couldn’t help but scoff, a sneer spreading across his lips.

“Alright, fuck me. Without me here you’d probably be dead, bleeding out in the bathroom, or puking yourself to death. No rasenshuriken. No sage training. No work on becoming hokage. No nothing,” Jiraiya felt his hackles rising, his hands balled into fists. At this point he was standing, towering over Naruto’s small frame. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What happened? When did you become like this? What happened to that optimistic, energetic, head strong kid I used to know?” Jiraiya asked sadly.

“He grew up,” Naruto stated blankly.

“Yeah well if this is what growing up means to you I don’t like it. Since when have you been fine sitting by as people died? What about Sasuke? You’re just done trying to save him?! You’ll let Orochimaru use him as a vessel?! And what about the Akatsuki!” Jiraiya growled, “and you’re just done with your dreams of becoming hokage? You make me sick.” Jiraiya turned on his heels and plopped onto the couch with a huff, crossing his arms with anger.

“Join the club,” Naruto’s voice was muffled by the blankets. His complete lack of emotion and nonchalance really pissed Jiraiya off. He stood back up, face red with rage.

“I can’t with you. I’m done. I can’t speak to you when you’re like this. I... I just don’t get what happened to you,” Jiraiya scrubbed a hand over his face, preparing to grab his pack and leave the room.

“What happened to me? What happened to me?! What happened is that I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. Why do I need to stop the Akatsuki? Why do I need to save Sasuke? Why do I need to save everyone? Why does no one give a fuck about me - ?” Naruto’s voice cracked as he choked back a sob, curling up under his blanket. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I just... I’m just so tired... I-I can’t do it... I can’t save Sasuke. I can’t stop the Akatsuki. I’m too weak. I’m useless. The Fox... the Fox is just going to wind up taking control of me anyway. He told me - “ Naruto sobbed, sniffling, “he told me he was going to take over my body and kill everyone I’ve ever cared about... he’d kill you while wearing my face, making me watch... he said he’d make me feel your bones crack.” The confession had Jiraiya floored and he felt guilt sweep over his body. “If I d-died... if I died he wouldn’t be able to... it would be on my terms. I can’t deal with the constant nightmares and flashbacks.. I-I can’t do it anymore,” at that Naruto broke, squeezing his eyes closed to try to stop the tears. He quietly sobbed, digging his nails into his palms. He was uncomfortable; he didn’t want to talk about this with anyone. It was his own issues, it no one else’s job to fix him. He didn’t want pity. He’d had enough pity growing up. He just wanted to be left alone. Jiraiya was stuck in a stunned silence; he felt like a complete piece of shit for what he had said. He had no idea how deep the issues went. All he knew was that something had to be done about the Fox. He knew the seal was weakening, but for the Fox to have this much control the seal must have been at its breaking point.

Naruto’s sobs quickly devolved into a round of lung burning coughing, his ribs feeling like they were set ablaze. His hand flew to his mouth as his coughing turned to gagging and Jiraiya quickly crouched beside him, “let me help you,” he urged but Naruto was too upset. Naruto jumped up and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it before falling to his knees in front of the toilet. Jiraiya just sat on the floor stunned, his heart aching and racing. He stood up and followed Naruto to the bathroom, frowning when he found the door locked. He knocked gently, “Naruto, please, let me help you,” Jiraiya urged, talking about both his current illness and also with the torment he was dealing with inside. The only answer he got in return was an awful, painful sounding retch followed by the sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the toilet. “Naruto, if you don’t answer me I’m going to assume you need help and kick this door down,” Jiraiya warned, anxiety spiking high. He heard Naruto sniffling before flushing the toilet.

“J-Just... just l-leave me alone...” Naruto’s voice wavered, unsteady from the tears threatening to stain his cheeks.

“Naruto...” Jiraiya started gently, but he was quickly cut off.

“No! J-Just leave me alone! Just get the fuck out!” he spat angrily before hissing as the pain flared up his side. He scooted backward and leaned against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut against his racing thoughts.

”Fine,” Jiraiya stated, turning on his heels as he reached for his pack and scroll. Just as he was about to leave he heard the bathroom door creak open. He turned around as Naruto stumbled out of the bathroom on shaky legs. He couldn’t hold up his weight anymore so he sunk to the ground, feeling like a helpless child. He stared up at Jiraiya, his face red and his eyes puffy, hair sweaty and disheveled, but all Jiraiya could see was his sad deep blue eyes, making Jiraiya's heart skip a beat. Jiraiya dropped his pack and stood next to Naruto to offer him a hand, but instead Naruto reached out and clung to his shirt.

"P-Please don’t leave me,” Naruto squeaked out, staring up at Jiraiya desperately, “not you too.”

Those eyes staring up at him, so sad and tormented, searching his own for some sense of comfort; craving a connection and love. That was it. That was all it took. Jiraiya knew in that instant that his heart belonged to Naruto. He vowed to himself to never let Naruto hurt like this again. He was going to take care of him regardless of the cost; they would get Sasuke back, they would defeat the Akatsuki, and Naruto would become hokage regardless of the sacrifices he'd have to make along the way. A sad smile spread across Jiraiya’s lips as he hugged the boy to his chest.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Jiraiya took Naruto’s hand and helped him to his feet, guiding him to his mattress. Naruto slid under his covers, shivering violently as he pressed his face into his pillow. He wanted to apologize but he couldn’t muster the words. He felt the mattress dip next to him, turning his face up to see what Jiraiya wanted. Jiraiya slid under the blankets next to Naruto, wrapping his arm around the younger man’s waist. Naruto bit his lip and froze, afraid to move.

”I’m not going anywhere,” Jiraiya whispered into Naruto’s hair, holding him close as they drifted to sleep.

part two.

[razorblade180]

Can we have more of Kairi talking to Sora in the first game. I want to see her reactions to Riku stealing the key along with Donald and Goofy abandoning Sora.

*Let’s be real, I was gonna do this anyways lol*

[Nerverland, Big Ben]

Sora:*Watching the stars*

Kairi:Well that’s another world saved by you and your big heart.

Sora:Yeah, too bad it cost me catching up to Riku again. I can’t believe he found your body; I was looking for it everywhere.

Kairi:Yep, he always seems to be ahead of you. What’s the score between you now? Like seven to thirteen; you have some catching up to do.

Sora:*sulking*.....

Kairi:....hey I was only joking around. You’re doing just fine; so what if things look bad? I’ll put my faith in you every time Sora.

Sora:Why’s that?

Kairi:Because you always keep going no matter what you lazy bum. *cheesy grin*

Sora:....*smiles* Thanks Kairi, you’re right. *Jumps off the ledge and flies* If I can believe in flying then I can believe in saving you; both of you.

Kairi:That’s the spirit!

Sora:Donald, Goofy, let’s get going! Our adventure together is just getting started.

Goofy:Garwsh, Sora seems ready to go. I wonder what’s gotten into him.

Donald:Who knows with him.

[Hollow Bastion]

Sora*on his hands and knees, staring at a wooden sword*......

*the rushing water drowning out the sound of three pairs of foot steps leaving*

Kairi:Sora? It’ll be alright..... things just got a bit more challenging than we-

Sora:You should go with them....

Kairi:Sora.....

Sora:It only makes sense. Your body is somewhere in here, Riku has the keyblade now with Donald and Goofy; I....*tears hit the ground* I can’t protect you without-

Kairi:*squats down, try’s to see his face*Sora, you don’t honestly believe the keyblade got you this far do you?

Sora:......

Kairi:Before you even knew it was special I have watched you face anything that tried to stop you because that’s who you are; that’s who you’ve always been. A stick could’ve appeared in your hand and I bet you’d defend our home just the same.

Sora:*wiping his eyes* But....

Kairi:No buts! *trying to hold his hand* I didn’t put my hopes in you because of the keyblade or because my heart so happened to find it’s way to you. I did it because I’m always gonna believe in you. *red*

Sora:*taking a deep breath* You know....Riku has every advantage right now over me?

Kairi:*chuckles* what else is new? Never stopped you from trying before; I guess right now he had fourteen wins to your seven. I wonder if you can catch up. Only one way to find out.

*Beast walks by him before falling*

Sora:*runs to him* Hey you shouldn’t be moving; you’re hurt.

Kairi:(Already thinking of another’s again)

Beast:*gets up* Belle’s here somewhere. I refuse leave until I get her back; what about you?

Sora:Me?.....*grabs wooden sword* I’m....I’m here to get somebody who’s very important to me too. No way I can stop now.

Kairi:There’s the Sora I know.

•

Riku:Quit while you can.

Sora:No way, not without Kairi.

Riku:The darkness will destroy *dark suit forms over him*

Kairi:Watch out Sora *sees a looming darkness presence behind Riku* I don’t know how to explain it but I don’t think he’s alone. I feel something, sinister.

*tension rises in the room*

Riku:You know I thought you of all people would’ve rushed to help get her back; yet every time you actively went against me. Not only that, you never seemed too surprised about anything I said regarding Kairi.

Sora:.......

Riku:You know where her heart is don’t you?

Sora:*biting his lip* I.....

Riku:I knew it *channeling fire in his hand* I bet you were having a good old laugh watching me search aimlessly huh!? Why keep it a secret?

Sora:You didn’t make it easy to tell you! Kidnapping princesses, working with Maleficent, controlling heartless.....! You’re going about this all wrong.

Riku:Where is she? I’m not gonna ask again.

Sora:........don’t do this. *shaking his head*

Riku:Too late *chucks a dark fireball at him*

*Donald and Goofy both block it*

Sora:Guys?

Goofy:You didn’t think we’d just stand there and let you get hit did ya!

Donald:Yeah! Orders or no orders, you’re still our friend.

Riku:So you would betray your king?

Donald:Not in a million years!

Goofy:But we’re not gonna betray Sora either hyuck.

Riku:*agitated* Ugh so what Sora? You may have them by your side but you still don’t have a real weapon.

Sora:Doesn’t matter; I don’t care if I have a keyblade, wooden sword, stick, or even my bare hands. I’ll never give up as long as I have friends to protect; friends that stand by my side no matter what. They’re the only power I need *readies the wooden sword*

......

Riku:Huh....woah! *kingdom key pulling away* tsk oh no you don’t! *holding on*

*keyblade warps to Sora*

Kairi:looks like we called it too early; the score is actually eight to thirteen.

Riku:*summons soul eater in a fit or rage* Like I need a thing like that!

Sora:Now I’ve done it; let’s see if I can get to nine.

Kairi:I bet you can. *touches kingdom key, it glows and transforms into Destiny’s Embrace* let’s knock some sense into him.

Sora:Yeah!!!!

•

*Riku banged up and bruised, dark suit fading*

Riku:*huff* *huff* Tsk...*runs off*

Sora:Guess I’m up to nine now. *desummons keyblade* let’s just see how far I go.

•

*the dark chapel*

Maleficent:This is how far as you go child.

Sora:It’s you, what did you do to Riku?

Maleficent:Do not take such a tone with me boy. I have done nothing to Riku; I’ve only helped him realize how much he can be when he abandons meaningless ties like friendship. Look how far he’s come; the door to darkness is almost mine!

Sora:Tsk! *everyone draws their weapon* We’ll stop it; we’ll stop you! Then everything can go back to normal.

Maleficent:You dare defy me? ME, THE MISTRESS OF ALL EVIL!? *green flames erupt*

Kairi:She looks tough. Nothing you can’t handle though; after all the creatures you’ve beaten.

Sora:Right, let’s do this.

•

Maleficent:*limping out of a portal*

Riku:Do you need some help?

Sora:*running out of portal* Get back here! Huh, Riku? *notices keyblade*

Donald:Is that...?

Riku:Yes, a keyblade. This one however has the power to unlock people’s hearts. Behold!!! *stabs Maleficent*

Sora:Wow!

Kairi:What goes around comes around...*sees shadow figure get more prominent* (what is...who is that?)

Riku:Open your heart...let it become one with darkness itself! *vanishes*

Maleficent:*laughing* This is it....darkness; true darkness! *explodes into a pillar of darkness and flames.*

Kairi:This might be bad....

*a dragon appears from the fire*

Kairi:This might be really bad!!!!!

Sora:You draw the line at dragons? I’ve fought sea monsters, genies, tons of heartless. This isn’t too bad. *dodges fireballs*

Kairi:Sora....this is a dragon!

Sora:I was more afraid of the jaguar. I got this; just watch!

•

*Maleficent fading away*

Sora:*Burns and smoke on his clothes* Okay.... that was a little tough. Luckily....*smiles*

*a light flies around him and fixes his injuries*

Sora:Thanks Tink!

Tinker Bell:*pokes his nose and vanishes*

Sora:Well? What do you think about that?

Kairi:*amazed* I think.....I think that should count as win number ten against Riku.

Sora:*rubs his nose* Hehe I’ll take that.

•

*Sora walking into the final room, princesses in capsules*

Kairi:*chills* I guess if we’re gonna find my body then this is the place. I can’t believe someone would do such a thing, starring at.

*sora notices the stairs*

Sora:I guess we go futher in. *walks away*

Goofy: *knocked away by a barrier*

Kairi:Uhhh Sora I think-

Sora:Kairi! *running and picks up her body* I found it! I got your-

Riku*sitting on top heart emblem* Took you long enough Sora.

Kairi:Sora what’s going- *gasp* *sees the silhouette as Riku* That’s not Riku anymore.

Sora:Not Riku? Then who is this...!?

Riku:Judging by your response you are aware the princess’s heart rest within you.

Sora:Princess? Kairi’s a princess!?

Riku:Since birth *looks right her* How are doing princess?

Kairi:He can see me!?

Riku:I can hear you too. You’re completely visible to me unlike your friend.*jumps down* Who would’ve thought casting you out from your world would’ve bore such fruitful discovery. A vessel and a keyblade; I’m quite fortunate...

Kairi:You’re....your’re the reason I was found on the islands? *stepping back* Alright that’s enough; just who are you!? You’re obviously not Riku.

Ansem:I’m the one who’s gonna open the door. The man who’ll dive as deep as can to seek the the darkness within; my name is Ansem. Now give me what I want... *points keyblade at him*

Sora:What are you- *grabs his chest in pain, falling to his knees*

Kairi:Sora!!! *slightly fading* Stay strong!

Donald:*Jumps at him* That’s it!

*Ansem hits him out of bounds*

Ansem:You got far but now it’s over. Surrender the princess’s heart or.....oh? *smirking*

Sora:*rising up* You....You didn’t think I was gonna make it easy for ya fight? *points his keyblade at him*

Ansem:Fine.....have it your way! *swings*

Sora:*Blocking it immediately. Sparks start to fly*

Kairi:Sora this guy is dangerous! You gotta....

Sora:I promised I’d protect you now matter what. *pushes him away* That’s what I’m going to do!

Kairi:....please.......don’t go off and die on me you hear!!? *glowing*

Sora:Got it! *teaming with light*

Ansem:Hmph, foolish boy. If you’re gonna struggle though please do your best to entertain me.....

•

*ansem drops his keyblade and fades away*

Sora:*huff* hey we’re not done here!

Donald:Sora close the keyhole, quick!!!!

*Sora tries to but nothing happens*

Kairi:It’s not gonna work; without me I don’t think it’s complete.

Sora:Sigh, guys without Kairi I can’t close it. We need her to free her heart.

Goofy:How do you suppose we do that?

*Sora looking at Riku’s blade*

Sora:(A key to unlock hearts, maybe....) *walks to it*

Kairi:What are you doing?

Sora:*grabs it and points it at his chest*

Kairi:Sora stop!!! Wait just a second here; you don’t have to go this far for me. We can figure something out right? *tears welling up* maybe if we look through Ansem’s reports again we might be able to-

Sora:It’s okay Kairi. A promise is a promise right?

Kairi:*crying* Not if this is the price of keeping it. Who knows what could happen; I’m fine being like this. If it means your safe then I will stay like this forever! *breathing rapidly*

Sora:...It’s funny how things work. I haven’t been able to see you this whole time but can picture exactly what you look like. But now that I’m ready to say goodbye *looks to his left* I can see you as bright as day. *smiling* beating Riku and saving you; twelve at of thirteen ain’t bad. *stabs himself* cause I still feel like a winner...

Kairi:SORA!!!!

[Traverse Town, secret tunnel]

Kairi:Hey Sora...

Sora:*walking in* Kairi? Didn’t think I’d find you in- ow!

Kairi:*eyes puffy as she hits him* I can’t believe you’d do something so....so reckless! You scared me half to death. *hugging him*

Sora:*frowning* I’m....sorry *hugs her back*

Kairi:Promise me you won’t do something like that again?

Sora:Sorry, that’s a promise I wouldn’t be able to keep. When you’re in danger I’m always gonna do what ever takes . *red* you’re....precious to me.

Kairi:That goes both ways you idiot. I.....*grabs his hand* I want to always stand by you......

Sora........

Kairi:You’re going back to Hollow Bastion aren’t you?

Sora:I still have a job to do. Riku is out there and I still have to lock the keyhole. Kairi I need you to sta-

Kairi:Don’t say it...*holding his hand tighter* we got this far sticking together. Why can’t I be there for the end? *looking down*

Sora:*holds her hand* Just because we’re separated doesn’t mean we’re apart. No matter what I’m gonna hear you rooting for me; keeping me going. You’ll be in my heart every step of the way.

Kairi:.......you’re so unfair *holds up her lucky charm*

Sora:What’s this?

Kairi:If you can’t promise me you won’t do something dangerous, then at least promise me you’ll always come back like you did this time? This lucky charm took forever to make and I expect it to give it back to me.

Sora:*takes it* I promise. Hey, maybe when I get back I can finally say I tied with Riku hehe.

Kairi:You’re already tied with him...

Sora:Huh? But the score is twelve to thir- *kairi kisses his cheek*

Kairi:*blushing and pushes her hair behind her ear* Looks like you’re all tied up..... pull ahead of him for once okay?

Sora:*red*......pr....promise.

*You’ve obtained Oathkeeper*

[The End of the World]

*Kingdom Hearts closing and Sora running to Kairi*

Sora:Kairi!

Kairi:Sora? How did I end up here? Did you beat Ans-woah! *platform being pulled away*

Sora:*Grabbing her hand* He’s gone; the worlds are safe now.

Kairi:Then what are you waiting for!? Jump over here! Wait where’s Riku?

Sora:Somewhere......and we’re still kind of tied so... *looking down with guilt, trying to find the words to say*

*platforms pulling apart*

Kairi:Sigh......*smiles* I understand, can’t have that now can we?

Sora:*looks up in shock*

Kairi:I can wait for the charm to come back. *hand shaking* Just be safe okay?.

Sora:*tearing up* I’ll come back to you, I promise!

Kairi:I know you will....

*lets go of his hand*

[mdelpin]

To Kill A Dragon - Chapter 10

Previous: Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Next: Ch 11

Chapter 10: First Steps

Igneel stirred in the part of Natsu's consciousness where his soul resided. He looked around in confusion, trying to determine what had caused him to wake. There was something, it felt like another presence hovering near him. Not quite defined, but powerful and definitely there.

"Is someone there?" Igneel called out softly.

"I'm here," The presence answered in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a youngling.

"Who are you?" Igneel's curiosity was growing in leaps and bounds. How had this presence made its way inside of Natsu?

"I don't know. I wasn't, and then I was," It replied simply.

"How did you get here?" Natsu's body was certainly getting very crowded these days. Dragon seed, demon seed, dragon soul and now this, whatever it was.

"How did you?"

"I arrived here by casting a spell called Dragon Soul."

"Where is here?" The voice asked, its voice trembling a bit.

"We're inside my son's body."

"Does he know we're here?"

"No, but we're safe," Igneel tried to make his voice sound comforting, but it was still a bit rough around the edges.

"That's good. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be here. I'm waiting for something to grow."

"Grow?"

"Yes, my vessel is not yet ready to house me. Can I see what you look like?" The presence asked nervously. It was still weak, not much more than an idea or a dream at the moment.

Once it became aware, it had felt lonely and had gravitated towards the strong presence it had sensed sharing this space. It had been surprised to be detected at all.

Igneel projected an image of himself for the presence to see. He made sure to make it look non-threatening.

The presence didn't know why, but it felt warm and safe as it looked at the image of the red dragon. Was the dragon here to protect it until it was stronger?

"What about you?" Igneel asked curiously.

"I'm not sure. I think I'll have more than one form. I'm still mostly potential, but I think I'll look something like this." The presence projected an image of a small pink haired boy with slightly droopy dark blue eyes.

Igneel gasped, excepting the eyes, its features looked very much like Natsu as a child. He thought he was beginning to understand who the presence was.

He held back his anger not wanting to scare it. Igneel was going to have to tread very carefully, but if it was still mostly potential, maybe he could help mold it into something unlike the goddess that had created it.

"What other form do you think you'll have?" Igneel asked with interest.

"I will also be a dragon, but my form is not yet certain. The one I see the most clearly has five heads, but I also see the possibility of one strong red one."

The presence had felt the dragon's distress to the form he had shown it, and it was curious about what it meant. "Why did you react like that when I showed you my form?"

Igneel thought about Natsu as a child. A small child with pink hair appeared before them. He had olive colored eyes that exuded warmth and a big smile that made the presence feel instantly happy. The child chased after a big red dragon.

"Who is that? He looks like me," The presence asked in wonder. It felt instantly drawn to this image, like the boy was somehow a part of it.

"That's my son Natsu when he was a child. I think he might be your father."

The presence absorbed that information greedily. It had a father!

"Does that mean you're my grandfather?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"Is my father strong?" It asked, and Igneel smiled at the concern he heard in the creature's voice.

"Your father is a dragon slayer. He flies with the dragons." Igneel said proudly. He showed it images of Natsu riding atop himself as well as Atlas Flame. He also showed it images of Natsu using his Fire Dragon Slayer magic.

The presence watched the pictures of its father fighting in awe. Strength, power. These were things it instinctively wanted. It thought it liked its father very much. If its grandfather had taught all these things to its father, maybe he would do the same for it.

"Can you make me strong like him?" It asked with hope.

"I will make you even stronger so that you can fight at his side some day," Igneel purred at him.

"I'd like that. Can I stay here with you, Grandfather?"

"You can stay for as long as you like, youngling."

Igneel had already decided he would train this being into a force for good. He refused to let Tiamat bring any more destruction to this world.

xxx

Natsu woke up to the sound of screams vibrating in his ears. His body was covered in sweat, and his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his body any minute.

It took him a second to realize the screams were coming from him. He'd been trapped in a horrible nightmare. Tiamat had come to the guild to return him to his cell, and no one from Fairy Tail had been able to stop her.

Like some kind of sick parlor trick, she'd copied all of his Nakama and used them to torture and humiliate him. His friends had laughed and yelled out requests as to who Tiamat should be next.

Not a single one of them had tried to help him. Then Tiamat had morphed into that freaky five headed figure and roughly taken him over and over until he couldn't scream anymore and he wanted to die.

He shuddered, and the meager contents of his stomach tried to fight their way back up his digestive system. He looked around the room and tried to convince himself he was safe. He wasn't in his cell anymore, he was back in the guild.

"Holy fuck, Salamander! What the hell was that?" Gajeel stared at him with mounting concern. He'd fallen asleep while sitting with the Salamander in the infirmary, and he sure as hell hoped to never wake up to something like that again. His heart was still pounding.

"I'm sorry, I had a nightmare," Natsu's eyes looked around the room wildly. Gajeel saw that Natsu kept looking at him nervously like he couldn't entirely trust that Gajeel was there. "Can you just talk to me for a bit?"

And maybe get someone else to come in here with you?, Natsu thought to himself while trying to get his racing heart under control.

He was still having trouble relaxing when there was only one person with him. It made him question whether he was in the infirmary at Fairy Tail or back in his cell, especially if he was just waking up. He couldn't even rely on his senses to help him tell the difference, Tiamat had been able to imitate people's scents. The one thing he did know was that if there were multiple people around, he was safe. He had taken to asking people to show him their magic if he was left alone with them.

"It might help if you talked about what happened," Gajeel said in the most pleasant tone he was capable of, "You've always been too stubborn to back down from a fight. Why start now?"

"I'm not ready yet."

"You've been saying that for days. You're never going to be ready, Salamander. The longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be. Just talk to them already. This is hard on them too, you know."

Makarov was still keeping most everyone away from Natsu. The dragon slayers had taken it upon themselves to guard his room, and at least two of them could usually be found in the infirmary at any given moment.

Without Natsu's cheerful countenance or his capacity for getting up to mischief, the guild was but a ghost of itself, and it was very unsettling. A lot of the members had been taking more jobs of late to avoid the gloominess that had taken hold of the guild hall.

Others had joined the research efforts in the guild library. Natsu's team, however, could not be convinced to leave at all. They hadn't taken a job since he'd been returned a week earlier, and Lucy had not mentioned the word rent once in that time. They just sat around waiting for the moment they would be allowed to see their friend.

Gajeel and Natsu could only stare when the door to the infirmary burst open and Gray and Erza ran in. Erza was wielding a sword and looking around the room, trying to find the enemy that must be lurking within. Gray took a defensive position in front of Natsu's bed.

"Natsu are you okay? " Erza yelled at him with urgency, "Where are they?"

"He's fine, Red. He just had a nightmare," Gajeel sighed as he looked at Natsu. His hands had started shaking when Gray and Erza entered the room. Gajeel was getting very tired of this. Some tough love was clearly required. He braced himself for what he was about to do and sent a silent apology to the boy in the bed.

Erza looked at him in disbelief. "Those screams were from a nightmare?" Her expression softened as she looked at Natsu huddled in the bed.

Gajeel got up and stretched. "Well, I'm done babysitting this asshole. I'm going to go downstairs to eat something and let the others know Salamander's fine. You two mind taking over? Great."

He left the room before Natsu had a chance to protest. He knew the Salamander was going to be furious with him for abandoning him with those two, but he needed to talk to them at some point. Might as well do it now.

They stood in uncomfortable silence as Natsu steadfastly refused to look at either of them. Erza requipped into her nurse's outfit and began to try to make him comfortable while Gray chose to sit in the chair that Gajeel had just vacated. Natsu relaxed a little when he saw Erza use her magic, Tiamat had never used his friends magic.

Gray stole a look at Natsu. He looked better than the first time he'd seen him, but he was still in rough shape. Those screams! That must have been one hell of a nightmare. From downstairs it had sounded like someone was being murdered in cold blood. Gray had been afraid of what they'd find when they burst into the infirmary.

He'd had his share of nightmares over the years, you couldn't be a survivor of a terrible event and not have them, but nothing like that.

"I'm sorry."

Was he talking to him? Natsu looked up at Gray in confusion. "What are you sorry about?"

The pain he saw in Gray's features made him look back down with great speed.

"I was there. I saw you leave the guild, and I followed you. I wanted to have a fight, but then I saw you with Erza, well I know now it wasn't Erza, and I didn't want to interrupt. By the time I realized what was happening, I wasn't able to keep her from taking you." The regret in his voice was very raw. It made Natsu uncomfortable.

Great. So if I'd just waited a few more minutes at the guild, none of this would have ever happened. Thanks for telling me that, Ice Bastard, Natsu thought sarcastically. Ugh, his emotions were all over the place lately.

What exactly had Gray seen? Natsu wondered, embarrassed as he remembered some of the things that Erza had been doing. He cringed at anyone seeing that, but Gray most of all.

"Don't worry about it, Ice Block. There was nothing you could've done. I still don't know what she did, everything just went black."

Erza noticed his discomfort and changed the subject. "Everyone's been worried about you," She said warmly.

"They would really like to see you," She moved to get a towel and some water and set about wiping the sweat and hair off his face, trying to ignore the way he flinched at her touch. "Are you hungry? I could ask Mira to make you some food."

This was the first time Erza had been able to see him, and even though she'd been warned of his injuries, she was still surprised that it was taking Natsu so long to recover.

He'd always been able to bounce back from his injuries swiftly, usually while waging a full out war on Porlyusica in the process. It was unsettling to see him like this, it somehow made what he had been through more real to her.

Natsu didn't know what was worse, watching his teammates tiptoe around him like he was an injured animal or feeling like said animal. These were his friends, they would never hurt him.

That's it! He fumed.

Natsu refused to let that bitch have control over him any longer. Gajeel was right, he'd never backed away from anything before, and he wasn't about to start now.

He would heal, he would recover, and when the time came, he would be ready to fight. His first battle began right now, and he would win it by doing what he did best. Attacking it head on. He would tell them what had happened. Maybe then, they could all start going back to normal.

"Erza, can you please go get Lucy and Happy?"

Preferably before I chicken out, Natsu thought to himself grimly.

The requip mage nodded and hurried out of the room. Gray sat quietly, waiting for the others to arrive. He tried to keep his expression neutral. There were a lot of things he wanted to talk to Natsu about, but he didn't want to be interrupted or overheard.

"Happy told me you've been taking care of him, thank you," Natsu conversed awkwardly.

"It's no problem, the little guy was devastated when Porlyusica told him he couldn't stay with you. It's actually been kind of nice having him around."

They sat in silence, and Natsu began to get antsy. "Can you mold something for me?" He asked. Now that he was alone with Gray of all people, he felt the panic begin to gnaw at him. Gray had been nice before too until he wasn't.

Gray looked at him strangely until he remembered they were alone. He'd heard about this from the others. That must be why Erza had made a point of requipping into her nurse's outfit.

He thought for a moment and then brought his hands together and molded a small figure of a young Natsu riding a dragon. He handed it over and saw Natsu relax almost immediately.

"I'm sorry, I get nervous when there's only one person with me." Natsu held the figure in his hands, admiring Gray's usual attention to detail before placing it on the nightstand by the bed. It made him feel wistful for the child he'd once been. "I just needed to make sure."

"Don't be, I should've thought of it myself. I imagine it's even worse when it's me," Gray said with a sad look on his face. "I really hate that you thought it was me doing those things to you."

"They weren't all bad," Natsu tried to reassure Gray.

What the hell did you just say? Natsu yelled at himself.

'What does he mean by that?' Gray thought in surprise.

Their conversation was thankfully interrupted by Erza returning with Lucy and Happy. Makarov and Porlyusica had tagged along as well. He was relieved that he would only have to go through this once. Happy immediately flew to the bed and cuddled up to Natsu.

He petted his Exceed absently as he started his story. He saw the concern on Gramp's face and tried to keep all emotion out of his voice, he couldn't let himself feel any of it. He hoped they'd let him get through it without any interruptions.

"I left the guild that morning to walk around the city. I was bored, and there was no one around to brawl with. That's when Erza found me and started acting strangely. She kept trying to touch me, and she was saying weird things."

He paused as he decided what was relevant, "I thought that someone must have given her something to make her act that way, so I tried to bring her back to the guild. Next thing I knew I was in a cell with magic sealing cuffs on my wrists and ankles. Erza came in, and I asked her to help me get the cuffs off so we could escape, and that's when she told me she'd put me there herself."

"I finally figured out it wasn't really Erza sometime later. She wanted me to give her some information. Since I wouldn't tell her what she wanted, she took out a dagger and worked me over with it until I passed out. The last thing I remember was her covering herself in my blood."

He really hoped to someday rid himself of that image or at the very least have it not affect him as much. He purposefully didn't look at Erza, not wanting to see her reaction.

"I woke up sometime later and smelled Gray in the room with me, but I was so weak from the pain that I fell back asleep thinking I'd imagined it. The next time I awoke, it was to Lucy whipping me. She was acting weird too, so I knew right away it wasn't her. She kept whipping me and then she left."

Natsu heard Lucy's intake of breath as he described her actions. He quickly decided that the only way he was going to get through the telling of his capture was by not looking at anyone and ignoring all of their responses. This was hard enough without worrying about how they would react.

"I was out again, and this time, I woke up to Gray cleaning up my wounds. He told me that he'd come to rescue me, but he'd gotten captured instead. He stayed in the cell with me and took care of me."

Makarov noticed that whenever Natsu mentioned anything to do with Gray, his voice automatically flattened in a way that he didn't do when talking about Erza or Lucy. He looked at his brat sadly.

Tiamat was sadistic and cunning. She'd hedged her bets by using all of Natsu's team members against him, sensing that one of them would be the one she needed to further her plans. Her methods were despicable but making Natsu think that Gray was real was the worst of all.

"The next morning Gray gave me something to drink and then...he left," He said hurriedly. No way in hell was he telling them that part or anything that happened after.

"A woman I'd never seen before walked into the room. She was wearing a cloak that had the symbol of the Penta Dragons on it. She told me her name was Tiamat and then launched into a story about Igneel. She said she'd tried to make him her mate, but he'd rejected her.

She blamed him for the dragons dying out saying he'd betrayed dragon kind and that she wanted to punish him through me. The last thing I remember was Gray coming back and beating me until my body gave out. Then I was here."

He'd done it! He'd gotten through most of it, and he did feel a little better. He looked at the faces of the people that had just listened to his story, and his heart sank.

Erza looked angrier than he'd ever seen her look before.

Lucy was trying to hold back her tears but was failing. Big, fat tears were running down her cheeks.

Gray was the worst. He'd made his face as smooth as his ice, his eyes unreadable, but Natsu could almost feel the blast of the ice mage's emotions slamming into him in waves. He really hoped Gray never found out about the part he'd left out because he didn't think the ice mage could take any more.

Makarov cleared his throat to get their attention. "I need to ask Natsu some questions. I know that this is a lot for you all to take in and he can probably use some time as well. Why don't the three of you take Happy downstairs for a while? You can talk to Natsu later if he's feeling up to it."

He personally thought that Natsu should have waited longer for this, but he was proud of his courage and desire to move forward. He expected nothing less from the Fire Dragon Slayer.

He waited for them to leave and saw Laxus standing outside the infirmary. He nodded at him to let him know to stand guard and keep everyone else away from the room. He gave Natsu a few minutes to regroup before he began questioning him.

"Gray was the one who gave you the solution wasn't he?" Makarov asked gently. He knew the questions would need to get more intrusive from this point onward, but he would start slowly.

Natsu gazed at him, dreading the questions he knew were coming.

"Yeah, I trusted him, so I didn't even think to smell it. It wouldn't have mattered, Tiamat would have found another way to force me to take it."

"I'm sure you're right," Makarov said, his voice soothing, "Did Gray do anything else before Tiamat came in the room?"

"He told me we would get out together, and then he kissed me," Natsu mumbled.

"What was that?"

"He kissed me," Natsu repeated a little louder.

"Was that something you wanted?"

Natsu didn't answer, and Makarov didn't push.

"Did she tell you why she wanted you to drink that solution?"

"She said it was to induce my first heat. She was going to make me her mate to punish Igneel for rejecting her."

"Did you have sex with her?"

"Yeah, Tiamat said that since it was my first time, she'd let me pretend to be with my true mate, but I had to cooperate. Otherwise, she would use one of her avatars to claim me. She said it was a one time only offer. That was the only time she shapeshifted in front of me," Natsu couldn't meet Makarov's gaze, "I knew it wasn't the real Gray, but I went along with it anyway."

"Natsu, I will say this as many times as you need to hear it. That woman raped you. She forced you to do something you didn't want and tricked you into thinking you wanted it because it was the better of two horrible choices. She might have been able to get your magic that way, but that's still rape in my book."

Natsu frowned, he had a hard time accepting that. Hadn't he let it happen? And he couldn't deny he'd enjoyed it, a part of him hadn't wanted it to end.

"Gray is your true mate ?"

Natsu hugged himself and refused to look at him.

"Natsu, look at me." He waited until the fire mage finally met his gaze. "You don't need to be ashamed. It doesn't matter to me that your mate is a man. Do you think you're the only one who's ever felt that way?" Makarov said kindly, he wanted to touch him, to offer him comfort in some way, but he knew it was a bad idea.

"All I've ever wanted for any of you is for you to be happy." He peered at the boy in front of him who suddenly looked very young to his eyes.

"Does he return your feelings?" Makarov pried gently.

"I don't think so, Gramps," Natsu replied truthfully.

Makarov thought back to the way Gray had been acting since Natsu had disappeared and came to the conclusion that it was very likely that he did indeed feel the same way about the fire mage, but they'd need to figure that out on their own.

"I understand why you kept some things to yourself, but someday, when you're ready, you should tell Gray the rest of it," Makarov advised quietly.

Natsu tensed up immediately, and Makarov frowned. He knew it would be difficult, but he firmly believed Natsu and Gray needed to discuss the full extent of what had happened if they stood any chance of reclaiming their friendship or if things worked out like he thought, becoming mates.

Still, he knew better than to push, this had been a big step after all. He smiled at Natsu and changed the subject.

"So, now that you told them what happened, how do you feel?"

"A little better."

Makarov smiled at him. "Shall I tell them they can visit you later?"

Natsu nodded and smiled. "I think I'd like that."

xxx

A/N: So rather than do a typical mpreg I think I'm going to go with this instead. Hopefully, people will find it interesting. Natsu made his first big step to his mental recovery (yay!). I hope you liked it. Let me know if you did. 

[fanficksandimagines]

“Guardian Angel.”- G.D.

Grayson Dolan x reader

Warnings: some bad language. That’s about it.

Word count: 6159

A/n I saw this writing prompt and kind off fell in love with the idea. I hope you guys enjoy this one, I really worked hard on it. It holds my love for mythical and supernatural beings and my interpretation oh Heaven and Hell.

Prompt from @writing-prompt-s :  -Hell is getting kind of full, and honestly, you’re getting tired of managing it all by yourself. You hire an angel to convert some of Hell’s denizens into proper god-fearing entities so they can be moved to Heaven and become someone else’s problem.-

Every human knows at least the slightest bit about Hell and Heaven, at least in theory; what they don't know is, that it's real. But, let me tell you; Hell is not just a pit of fire burning up the souls of sinners and spitting out demons, with a huge throne in the middle where the devil himself sits and enjoys the chaos; and Heaven isn't a shiny, clean sea of clouds where angels guide around souls whilst they wait to meet God himself. It's all a bit more complicated, you know? Just like the human world, there's rules you have to follow and jobs you have to do. Well, not you, you're already dead, if you're in one of both places. Demons and Angels also have responsibilities and jobs. Trust me, it's disappointing that, we Demons, don't just go around haunting your houses and possessing humans. Of course there are Demons doing just that, but that's because the gates of hell have been locked to them. It's a life sentence set for something they've done without the kings approval. Oh, and did I mention that the devil has no word here? Yeah, Lucy is kind off locked up, and the throne of Hell is taken by a self-proclaimed king, whose name shall not be spoken. I, as a Demon, won't tell you too much about Heaven, but God isn't there. I think that's worth knowing. He shows up there twice a year, just like your beloved Santa or The father of Christmas 'checks you twice a year'. He shows up, gives the Angels a speech, collect your unanswered prayers and then disappears for another half a year. That's all I'm going to tell you, thought. I'll be as honest as a Demon could be, this place is boring for a 17 year old like me. Since, Demons take their immortal form after they turn 18, I've never been outside Hell. I guess it's worth mentioning that time here is way slower than in the world humans live in, besides we don't sleep. I've been 17 for the past 4 human years and I'll turn 18 in 2 more. For my age and confusing/ complicated past, the king trust me with a pretty important job. I'm the Hells Soul keeper. I can't decide whether it's like babysitting a bunch of toddlers, or being a storekeeper in a magical castle where everything in store floats around on its own creating a chaos. Except storage wouldn't be crying or shouting 'Where the Hell am I?' every three seconds. My job as a Soul keeper isn't boring, sometimes the unfortunate souls just need someone to talk to; and again, as honest as a Demon could be, I explain to them, that they have died and now are in Hell. Doesn't work out, as you would expect, but hey, their reactions can be pretty priceless. We used to be two Soul keepers. Mars was older so he would do the collecting part in the human world. He was the only Demon I dared to call a friend. It was like having an older brother with who you actually had a good relationship. It didn't last long, though. There was an incident and he showed up at the wrong place and wrong time, and ended up dead. Even immortal beings can be killed, you just need the right weapons. You see, a Soul keeper gathers the souls in the human world, then brings them down to the 'waiting room', which is a huge hall with the capacity of 600 thousand souls. Then all of the souls have to be divided in smaller sections and guided in specific halls depending on their sins. Soul keeper watches over those as well, until Demons that watch over the specific sins collect them and guide them further through the ten layers of Hell. Soul keeper is the most important Demon in Hell, otherwise some souls would pay for crimes they never did, and believe me, you wouldn't want to be tortured by the highest standards just because you licked some frosting off of that birthday cake in your grannies fridge, even though your mom told you not to. Also, how else would lost souls find their way to hell? Someone needs to collect them. Something wasn't going as it should in the Hells system. The souls that were already sectioned, weren't being collected and the waiting room was filled with more souls than it should. I had to collect souls above the ground today, and looking at the stack of papers filled with names of dead sinners, there was a good hundred thousand of them. I was so tired of having to babysit over a 800 thousand souls every day, might need to remind you that I don't sleep, and neither do they. There's someone crying all of the time, there's someone screaming all of the time, because of those two groups- there's everyone else complaining, and taking in all of this can get kind of heavy on my shoulders. Since no one in the lower layers of Hell wasn't showing up or answering, I sent a letter to Heaven asking to send someone to help. I didn't get an answer, so I'm kind off hopeless at this point. I snapped my fingers teleporting myself into the break room. I changed out of my all black working uniform, putting some casual clothes on. I grabbed a cd and went to the control panel playing 'Harry Potter' on the TVs in the waiting rooms and sections to distract the souls whilst I'm away. After the movie started playing, I walked over to the weapon section and took a small knife with which I cut a line in my left palm. As the black blood like liquid showed through the cut, I drew a symbol that opened the Hells gate for me. Grabbing my tablet that had all of the collectable souls listed, I left through the gate, the portal closing behind me. "Alright, let's do this!" I said to myself as I showed up in a dark alley located in Kansas. Collecting souls was pretty easy. I teleported from place to place showing up near the graveyards or spots where someone was killed and found the wandering orbs flying around  searching for its human vessel. I guess I could compare collecting the souls to humans catching lightning bugs in jars. Except, I don't catch them in a jar, I catch them in a crystal. After I had collected about the third part of all the sinner spirits on my list, I decided to enjoy a bit of human life. Walking in a small café in Paris, I took a seat next to a window that had a clear view on the Eiffel tower. A waiter came around asking for my order, even if I can't taste anything besides atoms, I still ordered a muffin and a cup of coffee. Whilst I was enjoying the view and waiting for my order a young boy walked inside the café only to be soon followed by someone who looked a lot like him. It was clear as day that they were twins, the only thing off was that they weren't talking to each other. The boy with slightly longer hair took out his phone and started scrolling away, whilst the other one just sat besides him, clearly bored out of his mind. The waiter came around with my order. I thanked her and payed right away with some money that I 'borrowed' from a rich business man, who, I know for sure, will be sent to Hell after his death. I'd say I enjoyed my meal, but the only thing I tasted was atoms. I had to get back to work, so I stood up to leave when the black Soul crystal fell out of my pocket. "Crap!" I whispered to myself reaching down for it. Apparently it caught the attention of the few people that were at the café, since they all looked my way. I took the crystal in my hand and showed my hands in my pockets, quickly walking out of the place. The next soul I had to collect wasn't too far away, so I figured I'd walk there. Walking down the street I felt like someone was following me, and I wasn't wrong. One of the twins was running after me, so I turned the next corner in a small empty street, making myself invisible to the human eye by snapping my fingers. He walked in the street his eyes set on me. "How is this possible?" I tough to myself. "You're Y/N, right? The Soul keeper of Hell?" he questioned still standing there. I guess he figured out, that I had no clue of who he was and why he could still see me, so he showed his wings. It was the most beautiful set of Angel wings I had ever seen. They were clear and white with a hint of blue in the glow, meaning that he was supposed to be a human, but something went wrong. "Yes, I am the Soul keeper." I finally answered his question. "You asked for help." he reminded me of my letter. "Uh, yeah. I wanted to hire an Angel to purify some souls." "I'll be honest, this is the first time I'm out of Heaven, but I was assigned to help you, so here I am." "What about your brother?" "He's a human." "Oh, I'm so sorry." "You're a Demon, you don't feel anything… but It's alright." He was right, Demons don't feel sorry; at least most of them. "Alright. Have you ever collected souls?" "No, I've collected prayers." "Well, then you're in for a treat before we go downstairs. What's your name?" I asked as we made our way to the next soul. "My parents were going to name me Grayson, so I guess that's it." "Well, nice to meet you, Grayson. I'd tell you my name, but you already know it. So, the next soul we have to collect is Frank Hudgens, a twenty year old man who is being rejected by Heaven, because he robbed his aunt and stabbed a policeman." I informed Grayson. Grayson was quiet, for the biggest part of the whole collecting experience, by the end he seemed to ease off and started to talk to me. He told me the slightest bits he knew about his own life, and soon after we were finished with our job. "Well that was the last one." I said after my crystal sucked in the last orb of soul. "We're going to Hell now?" "Absolutely." I took his hand in mine and snapped my fingers, teleporting us back to the gate in Kansas. I opened up the gate and lead us inside, never letting his hand go. After we finally showed up in Hell, I showed him into the break room. I put my stuff down on a table, and quickly checked the cameras to make sure the movie was only now ending. I turned  the next part of the franchise on, so I could finish up all of my works before I had to turn all of my attention back to the whining souls. "Alright, here comes the uncomfortable part." I announced to Grayson walking over to cabinet to take a empty grace jar. "And that would be?" he questioned before sitting down on the couch. "I'll need to take your grace." I took a silver feather that had fallen out of Lucifers' wings and turned back to him. His eyes grew bigger in shock "My what?" "Your Angel grace. Don't worry, not all of it. There will be enough left for you to remain as an Angel." I walked up to him and motioned with the sharp feather to stand up. "Will it hurt?" Grayson stood up, making me slightly stumble back as he was taller than me. "No, it'll just be the worst pain of your never ending life." I quickly mumbled holding eye contact with him, before I cut a line over where his heart should've been. He screamed in pain whilst I held the opened jar next to the cut and let his grace fall inside of it. Once half of his grace was in the jar, I put the lid on and touched the cut with my hand healing it instantly. "Why was that necessary?" "Did they tell you anything about what you will have to go trough?" "No?" "Wow, Angels really are dicks, aren't they?" "That's offensive, kind off." "You'll thank me later." "For cutting my chest open and taking my Angel grace?" "Well, maybe not." "I thought you were going to rip my heart out." "Hate to break it to you, but you don't have one. Now stop talking and rest a little. You're half human now." "I'm what now?" "Half human. And what did I say about talking?" "I'm half human?" "Can you shut up?" I asked now standing by the counter and placing the jar in the storage. Grayson actually shut up and I turned to my next job, which is releasing the souls from the crystal into the waiting room. "Whatever you do, stay in this room." I instructed Grayson just to turn around and see him sleeping. I went to release the souls in the waiting room, then went back to the break room and filled in all the papers before sending them to Marcus, managing to slip in a note asking about the belated collecting. When I was done with all of my jobs, I went to all of the souls giving somewhat of a guidance to the 'newcomers'. I just went with my usual agenda, until Grayson woke up. Making my way back to the waiting room I ran into Marcus, who apparently was searching for me. We walked to the door of the break room together before he started talking. "I got your note." he stated, resting against the wall opposed from the door. "Great, and?" Am I really about to get some answers? "Hell is over populated, that's why it's taking so long. The king is trying to search through the imprisoned souls to turn them into demons." "Don't they need vessels for the souls, to turn them into demons?" "That's why it's taking so long. By the way, Kings assistant asked to tell you that you should hire some help from 'up there', maybe they'll agree to make some exceptions and agree on taking some sinners up there. At least until we have some free space." "Already did it. They sent an angel to purify at least some souls." "You have an angel down here?" "Yes?" "I've never seen a pure angel. Did she show you her wings? Were they golden?" "It's a he, and the wings are white with a blue glow." I whispered with a hint of annoyance. "But that means-" Did I mention that Marcus is a bit of a nerd? "He's not a pure angel. I know." "Then how is he gonna be able to purify any souls?" "With his grace." "You need to drain it from him." "I already did that." "You didn't turn him into a human, did you?" "I took only half of it." "You do know that a guardian angels grace is less powerful than a pure ones, right?" "We'll have to do with what we got." I shrugged knowing well enough that he was right. "There are some stuff that could make it more powerful, even if it's just a little bit, but I need to see the grace before I get the ingredients." Marcus suggested, pushing away from the wall. "I didn't know you have purified souls before." My arms were now crossed on my chest. "I'm older than you think and I've done more than you know." I sighed unfolding my arms and opening the door to the break room; revealing a pretty tired looking Grayson standing next to the screens where all the crying souls were shown. "Do they ever shut up?" He questioned me annoyed, as I walked into the room, Marcus following behind me. "No, but if you press that blue button on under the screens, the sound will turn off." He pressed the button, muting the sound. "Man, those are crying souls. What kind of an angel are you?" Marcus was obviously surprised by the lack of manners. "A regular one?" Grayson questioned his own answer. By just that one question, he made it clear that he doesn't know that he's a guardian angel. Marcus also catched the unsure answer, before looking at Grayson with his eyes slightly squinted in confusion. "What's your job 'upstairs'?" "Up until now, I had to collect all the prayers from the listeners and delivered them to the next office." Grayson answered sitting down on the couch again. "So, you're like the postman of prayers?" "I guess. Why are you so interested in that?" "He's going to help us with some stuff we need for purifying the souls, Marcus just wanted to know have you ever done anything like this before, that's why he asked." I spoke before Marcus could say a thing. Something in my head was telling me that Grayson was clueless for a reason. "No I was-" "Being a curious demon? That's nothing new." I cut him off. I guess he finally understood me, he changed the topic. "Yeah, anyways. Show me the grace?" He gestured for me to move. I took the jar with Graysons grace and gave it to him. He put the jar close to his face inspecting it and seemingly thinking about something, before he took a look at Grayson, then at me and then back at the glowing light. "Alright. I'll go get the needed stuff and we'll make the serum." "How long are you gonna take?" "Depends if Cassandra is gonna show up. She might not be happy that you brought an angel to hell without telling her." "She did say that I should hire some help." Marcus nodded my way before leaving the room. I turned my attention to Grayson. "Your family is from America, right? Why was your brother in Paris?" "They're on a vacation." "Oh. How about we go and collect some souls that have a potential to go to heaven and section them into a separate room, to pass the time?" I suggested. "Can I get something to eat before we do that? I'm pretty hungry." "Oh, right. You're half human again." After we found something for Grayson to eat, we went through a list of all of the souls that were under my responsibility at the moment, picking out the ones with the smallest sins. We then transferred them into a separate room where we would purify them, once Marcus was done making the serum. Marcus took way longer than expected. By way longer I mean a month. It was a long enough time for Grayson to become used to my working agenda. He helped out every single day, in return I brought him food from the human world. We became something that humans would refer to as best friends, and I will remind you- the only person I ever called a friend was Mars. The fact that he was half human, doesn't mean that Grayson was just hungry and tired from time to time. He also started feeling things. Things he never felt before. As an angel or a demon, you're not completely immune to feelings. We feel the basic emotions that humans have- sadness and happiness, just in an easier form, since our anatomical system barley holds any nerves. But during the time Grayson had to spend with his grace partly missing, in Hell, made his body grow a nervous system in a fast speed. The feelings he felt were ones that I've heard of a lot about, like sadness and misery. But he told me about this weird feeling, he couldn't explain, that stood out for me. I had heard about it from some souls, but wasn't sure how real it was. "It's like, I want to smile all of the time, when I'm around you and my stomach starts turning when you smile. It's the weirdest thing ever." "Maybe you're just so disgusted of me that you want to puke." I chuckled. "But I'm not. It's like the feeling is unpleasant, but good at the same time. God, it's so confusing." He shook his head before taking a bite from the sandwich I got him for lunch as we sat on the couch. "Yeah, we don't mention that guy down here." "Sorry, I just don't understand so much and it's making me sick at this point. Life without feelings was easier." "Don't worry, once we get to purify those souls, you'll be able to go back to Heaven and your grace will be given back to you." "Is it weird that I don't want to go back?" I was used to his questions by now, but this one kind of took me off guard. "Why don't you?" "Up there I'm nothing more than someone who delivers prayers from one office to another. Everyone there is so obsessed with their jobs and themselves, that they don't even talk to one and other. No one explains to you what you have to do or why things are the way they are. I feel like I don't fit there." "And how exactly is Hell better?" "You talk to me. You answer my questions even if they are stupid." I bit my lip as I listened to him speaking, "It's like you care. Like you're a human too, at least partly." "Yeah, I'm not. I've just picked up human like habits." "You know I was talking to some of the souls we selected for purifying. There was this soul of an old lady. I explained that strange feeling. The one I feel only around you. She said that it sounds exactly like love. I didn't get to ask what 'love' is, but I think it's a good feeling." I shook my head letting a laugh past my lips, "You need a heart to feel 'love' and you don't have one, Gray. It's probably something else." The room went quiet for a second before Marcus stormed in. "Guys it's ready, but we kind off have a small problem," he seemed out of breath, "There's not enough grace." "How is that possible?" I asked knowing that I took enough. "It's not strong enough to work. Otherwise it's all good." "Well then, Y/N, take some more." Grayson shrugged like it was nothing. "If I'll take more you'll die." My voice grew unexpectedly loud, making me shout that at Grayson. "I know we’re in Hell and it tends to get hot in here, but could you not shout and chill out." Marcus said. "I'm not taking any more of your grace." I stated, my voice lower than previously. Grayson looked at me for a second and then at Marcus, "You won't, but he will." I looked from Grayson to Marcus who stood there unaffected. "I can do it." Marcus gave Gray a look, agreeing. "What? No! Marcus, can you leave us alone for a minute?" I pushed him out the door. "Why not? So what I'll die. You might be holding it a secret from me, but Hell is going to break loose if we don't clear it out. And then shit is gonna go down. No one wants that." "How the fuck do you know about that?" "I heard you and Cassandra talking the other day. If something will go wrong, they'll put it on your shoulders and the king will cage you up with Lucifer." "Don't you understand it? If we take any more of your grace, you will die. If you'll die then I'll have problems with Heaven because I hired you. I was the one who signed underneath that deal! If I'll fail Hell, I'll get tortured and I can deal with that. I can't fail Heaven, I  can't fail God! Not again." "Again?" "Your minute is over!" Marcus stormed in. "Get out for another one!" Grayson yelled. It was a side of him I hadn't seen yet. Marcus looked taken back, but still left closing the door behind him. "What are you hiding?" Grayson asked. I was quiet. I couldn't believe that after all this time I so easily slipped up. And because of what? A weird painful pinch in my chest that holds me back from killing Grayson? Pathetic. "Y/N, what did you mean by that? What are you hiding?" "Nothing, I just- just chose the wrong words. We- uhm- we should go to Marcus and figure out what we can do about this." I was weirdly lost in the situation. "Marcus can wait." "For another minute? Seriously guys? Maybe I should give you another month, I'm starting to get annoyed by this." Marcus peeked through the door. "No, let's go to the hall and figure out what we can do with the purifying." My voice was unusually shaky as I walked past Grayson, pushing the door more open to slip by Marcus and make my way to the next room. Marcus and Grayson soon followed. "So what are we going to do about the serum?" Marcus asked once we all walked into the hall. "How can we make it stronger, without taking the rest of Graysons grace?" I asked. "Y/N, I tried everything. That's why it took so long. There is no other way." "That can't be possible." "It is. Maybe next time you hire an angel to help, look for it to be a pure one, not a guardian." "Guardian?" Grayson suddenly questioned. "Why did you-" "Why didn't you tell him? The guy's been living in Hell for the past month and you don't even care to tell him that he's not fully an angel. For fucks sake, Y/N!" "Marcus, just take my grace and let's get this over with." "No!" I shouted again, rage was pumping through my body. Or was it fear mixed with pain? "What's the point? I don't fit in Heaven, turns out I'm not even a real angel. Just let me do at least one useful thing in my life and save you from being tortured!" Before I could say a thing Marcus pushed Grayson to the wall and cut open his chest over the heart area, making every last bit of grace out of his body. Grayson grew weak in matter of seconds as all of his energy was put out in painful screams. There was something off about the whole situation. It made me feel pain. Pain that only grew. Marcus collected all of Graysons grace and poured in the mixture he had been preparing for the past month. Grayson sat on the floor, weak and almost lifeless. The worst part about an angel being drained from its grace was the slow and painful death. I stood frozen, for some reason not being able to move. "Alright, now, Y/N, take this," Marcus gave me the serum "I'll help Grayson to get to the purgatory." He went over to Grayson picking his limp body from the ground. Grayson hissed in pain. We teleported to the purgatory, where all the souls, that were going to go to Heaven, were. Marcus sat Grayson on the ground on the side of the room. "Alright, Grayson, you'll need to spread your wings, okay. Gather all of your strength and do it. We'll do the rest of it. It was nice knowing ya, buddy." Marcus instructed him, "Let's go, Y/N. We need to get the serum into the system, and set the room on fire." I didn't move. My eyes were set on Grayson who was trying to pull together all of his last strength just to spread his wings. He was in obvious pain. Tears rolling down his cheeks. "Y/N! We have to go. We need to start the purifying before he dies!" Marcus came closer to me snatching the serum out of my hands. "We have to go!" he shouted, "We still have to start the system and set this room on fire, stop acting human and move!" "I'll set the fire." I whispered not moving. "Then move! Otherwise he'll die and this will all be just wasted time!" Marcus shouted at me before walking to the door. "Lock the door behind you." My request was simple. "What now? Seriously, Y/N. Stop acting like a goddamn human!" "Lock the fucking door." "You'll die-" "Lock the fucking door!" I shouted at him, requesting one more time. Marcus mumbled something underneath his breath, before walking out and locking the door. "What are you doing?" Grayson questioned, his voice barely audible. "You're too weak to spread your wings. It won't work without the presence of angel wings." "I would've died either way, right?" "No. If you'd have enough grace in your vessel, you'd be able to take it. You'd survive." I kneeled down next to his body. "But how you staying here will help? We'll both die now." there was blood spilling past his lips as he spoke, coughing in-between his words. I wiped the tears from his cheeks and blood off of his chin. "You'll survive." I felt my own tears rolling over my cheeks as his weak gaze was staring into my eyes. I reached to the back of my neck untying a necklace that I always had but never took off. In it was tied up a small, snuggly bottle. It was so dirty that you couldn't see through it. "You see, Gray. Even the biggest monsters have at least the slightest bit of humanity in them. And not everyone in hell is a demon.” I said whilst rubbing the little bottle with my fingers. Soon enough the secret, I had hidden my whole life in hell, started to glow in all of it's bright blue glory. "What is that?" he questioned but I didn't answer. I opened up the bottle and poured its content onto Graysons cut, afterward touching the cut to heal it. Judging by the amount of time that had passed, the system was going to start running any moment. I stood up, ready to set the fire. There was a slight creaking noise and the sprinklers on the ceiling went off. "That was my angel grace." I explained to Grayson before spreading my own blue angel wings.

They weren't as beautiful as his. My wings were missing feathers and had blood splashed all over them. One wing was cricked. "You weren't supposed to be an angel, Grayson. That's why you didn't fit in Heaven." I snapped my fingers and fire instantly spread throughout the room exploding, burning up all of the sins of the souls. ~~~ "Hey, Grayson! Wake up, dude!" Ethan said shaking his twin brothers shivering body awake. Grayson sat up in his bed, cold sweat running over his hot body. Ethan sat down on the bed besides his brother. "You alright?" "Just a nightmare." Grayson breathed out. "Just a nightmare or-" "I keep seeing the same thing. Like every time… and it always goes the same. I die, the doctors don't save me on time, I go to heaven, then I meet her, then go to hell-" "The same dream over and over again." Ethan nodded, upset at the tough that his own twin brother almost didn't make it. At the thought that Graysons heart stopped for almost a whole minute. "But always a day before our birthday… just then." Grayson stood up from the bed, "It always feels so real too, you know? Like, I always feel the pain. The fucking feather cutting open my chest and the fire burning me up. It used to be just the pain, but now since last year I feel way more than that. I feel her taking my hand when she brings me to hell. I feel her hand on the right side of my chest when she's collecting the grace. I feel her hand on my cheek when she wipes my tears away and the blood on my chin. And her touch whilst she heals up the cut. I feel every single little thing. It's like she's real. Like, I'll just meet her one day." Grayson didn't care that he sounded crazy and that his brother probably didn't even believe him. He cared about the fact that Y/N saved him and he couldn't even say 'thank you' to her. ~~~ Grayson and his family were celebrating his and Ethans 18th birthday when Grayson suddenly felt dizzy. He excused himself from the dinner table and said that he'll go for a short walk outside to get some air. Grayson walked around the backyard, crossing the small frozen river and walking into the forest he knew all too well. The twilight sky making it harder to see, he decided to just stay on spot. He sat down on the snowy ground by his thinking tree and looked up, seeing some stars between the naked branches of the trees. "It's a bit cold to sit on the ground, Grayson." A female voice said, it sounded familiar yet unknown. He looked around, his heart slightly racing. The owner of the voice came closer, but Grayson couldn't recognize the person until she sat on the ground right in front of him. "Hey! It's been a while." She greeted a small smile plastered on her lips. Grayson went slightly pale, recognizing the girl in front of him. "Y/n?" "Yes?" "You, you're-" "I'm real." "Wha- How?" "You remember everything, don't you?" "I keep seeing nightmares." "It's your memory, not nightmares. See, when you were in hell, throughout that time when you became more and more human, a heart developed in your body.

When I gave you my grace it went straight to your heart; which then caused a ripple in time. It went to the moment you died, and it saved you.

My grace is the reason you see the nightmares, it carries it all as a memory set in your heart."

Y/N explained answering all the questions Grayson was dying to ask… except for one. "So you're an angel now?" that wasn't the question. "I always was." "Then how did you end up in hell?" neither is this one. "I was your guardian angel. I failed my job to save you, so God sent me down to hell. In order for us to never meet." "But we met after all… and you still saved me. Are you still living in hell?" "Grayson, that's not the question you want to ask. But I do live in hell, only in the one up there, it's practically the same." Y/N knew there was something else aching to be asked. "Is it possible- Is it possible that I fell in love with you?" His heart sped up again, the pulsing noise so loud, he thought the whole world could hear it. "You're the only one who can answer that, Grayson. I don't even know if I, myself, have a heart." "You definitely stole my heart." "I don't steal hearts, I collect souls." "Well then you accidentally have taken my heart." "If I would've, it wouldn't be beating in your chest right now." "No. You own my heart, you're the reason it keeps beating, and you will always be the reason." "Happy birthday, Grayson." Y/n stood up, spreading her wings that had been cleaned and healed. They looked exactly like Graysons set of wings when he was an angel. Grayson stood up, understanding that Y/n was about to leave. "Oh, a little message from Heaven; you're still Ethans guardian angel. Look after him!" "That's it? You're just going to leave?" "Grayson, this is the last time you’re going to see me. Hopefully the last." "What? Why?" "I'm here to take my grace back. You're 18 now." "But how will I remember that you saved me then?" Y/n stepped closer to Grayson taking his face in her hands. She placed her lips on his kissing him softly and taking the memory of her, hell and heaven away from his mind. The moment they lips parted she was gone and Grayson, all alone, standing in the forest forgot what he was doing there. The only memory left was just the pure fact of him having weird crazy dreams in the past, but in his heart Grayson still knew that there was an angel always looking after him.

[goldenscript]

touch of silver

↳ prompt: witch!seokjin 

pairing: kim seokjin | reader genre: witch au / fluff word count: 1,715 description: Kim Seokjin only wants the best for you — little does he know that it’s all part of fate’s grand design.

He was like you once.

Magic is like wine—made divine by the greater powers and just as dangerous in excess. Still, there is freedom in the craft.

The mundane world does not understand the camaraderie that takes place between the ground they stand on and their very presence. How easily the elements can be coerced into doing their bidding, how the mind is nothing more than just another portal to explore, and how their bodies are vessels are more than just spaces on Mother Earth. It is nothing more than just self-actualization.

But, for people like you and him, where the very act of listening to the Earth’s calling and coaxing the world around you to listen, it is simple to comprehend. And not everyone can complete such a feat. Some are still learning, some may never know, and some can be stripped of their abilities.

Seokjin remembers what it’s like to materialize simple things in front of him, because he refused to go to the closet for his broom. He remembers the very wisps of cyan that would take him to places he never would’ve spent more than twenty dollars to get to. Pressed even deeper to his memory are the clouds of viridescent hues, sometimes scarlet, and most definitely chartreuse that permeated from the steel caulderon passed on from his grandmother. He could feel the power of each ingredient as a potion or a charm came out of the concoction, and his pride swelled knowing that he could create miracles.

He was on top of the world, knowing everything that he did and doing what he could, but then came exam season, where knowledge and effort overpowers natural genius. His own natural talents were nothing compared to what Fate had planned for him. And a part of him knew that he wasn’t destined for more than just running his family shop, that his life was entwined and engraved with the testament of his family, but he sure as hell tried to defy it all. He wanted more. He wanted freedom.

Instead of moving on toward Elder training, he was stuck with a frivolous store to his name; his pride having died out somewhere along the way. And born in the ashes of those burnt dreams came a vehemence for recklessness and carelessness, because he knows what it’s like to be so close, yet still be so far from a dream that might’ve been his if he had only tried harder or if someone had pushed in the right direction.

He sees so much of that in you. From that day you stumbled into his shop with wide, curious eyes, nothing so much as a caulderon to your name before you were spouting out more questions than that damn exam his way. You thirsted for knowledge and for control of these abilities you hadn’t realized were yours up until a few months ago. You weren’t much younger than him, but he saw potential encasing you from the very start. He didn’t know why he was helping you or what made him accept this mentorship, but the universe coerced him through his conscious with memories of him lost at eighteen, seeking for guidance and coming up short because his families could only offer up so much before they fell short, and his heart thrumming with the sound of your voice and clenched at the dejection that threatened your visage. He had to help you—he knew that much.

And he pities his parents who once watched his journey, though they could only do so much as humans, he sees how much they fretted over his recklessness. All those nights they pleaded with him to be careful and to do the best that he could but not to lose sight on what he was striving for. He thought they were being silly to gray their hairs over him, but now he knows with you. he has to pray that you're not off gallivanting with the shapeshifters because you mastered one spell at how to do it or blowing off your studies just to master more of those advanced spells that were way out of your league. 

“What were you thinking?”

The sharp octave is enough to elicit a wince, but it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen from you. Although this isn’t the first time, the two of you both seem to wish it were the last scolding. Today just isn’t that day.

There’s a cut on your cheek with remnants of dried blood smeared toward your ear, your clothes are crumpled and frayed so much that it has his heart beating more out of anxiety than actual anger, because he doesn’t know what happened but he can’t bear to stomach any of the possibilities. He knows the lycans of the shapeshifters are harmless, a little rough but for the most part they aren’t horrendous creatures like modern-day media likes to paint them. Really, it just looks like you had a small altercation with one but just that thought makes his stomach flip around in ways that would put a gymnast to shame.

“Jin, l-look,” you try, looking at him with upturned brows. The look he gives you makes a small frown form on the corners of your lips. Another thing that has his heart feeling a little despondent. “I’m sorry. I was getting something from one of my friends and we were roughhousing a little.”

He lets out a deep sigh, patting the cushioned stool by the counter. Instead of saying anything else, he disappears behind the lavender strands of beads for an old-fashioned first-aid kit from beneath the sink. It’s old, but his mother always said they would be useful even if a simple spell could fix any bruise, cut, or broken bone.

He sets the clear plastic container onto the marble counter, standing in front of you. Your eyes flicker to the antiseptic and the cotton ball in his hands before your brows furrow.

“You’re not going to use magic?”

He shakes his head, meeting your eyes with a soft look in his eyes and a much softer voice than earlier, “No. It’s just a cut, so some of this and band-aid won’t hurt you.”

You nod slowly, fiddling with something in hand but he still can’t find himself to ask about it. Instead, he asks as soon as you release a sharp hiss of pain, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile a little. “I know that stuff hurts, and that thing with the lycan was literally just a scratch. You know how pups can get.”

He hums an affirmation as he sets down the burgundy-stained cotton ball, unwrapping a small rectangular band-aid before smoothing it over your minor wound.

“There, good as new.” He adds, “Try to be careful next time you go and neglect your studies.”

He knows that this is that sort of phase that’ll die out with time. You’ve grown more than he’s probably given you credit for, and now that his head has cleared up he does wonder what it was that you fought with a pup for.

You open your mouth before he can ask, with a devilish grin now perched on your elated visage, “Congrats.”

You open up your hand, pressing the small, unmistakably steel ring into the palm of his open hand and his heart flares not only because of the contact but because this can’t be what he thinks it is—!

“You passed!” You meet his wide eyes, drinking in the way his lips have probably fallen open and the shock rolling off his body in waves.

“H-how?” He manages to say, staring at the dark steel that he’s yearned for God only seems to know how long. “I failed though.”

You shake your head, “It was a test. Elders have to be resilient, and in the face of what you thought was failure was just another opportunity to redeem yourself—”

“—Teaching you?”

“And the first-aid kit.”

Seokjin lets out a breathy laugh, leaning his back against the counter for support. He never would’ve imagined that’s how the process went, and when he looks back up to you, he doesn’t regret it either.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “And I’m sorry for being so hard on you.”

You wave him off, “I’m sorry for being such a tough student to deal with.”

He blinks, “Are you…?”

“Getting there, but my test won’t be like yours I don’t think. We’ll see.” As he nods, you watch him expectantly, “Well, aren’t you gonna put it on?”

“Oh—uh, yeah, I should huh?” You laugh, rising from your spot to stand in front of him. The back of his foot hits one of the cabinets, but you pretend not to notice in favor of slipping the small token of his hard work onto his ring finger. It’s lighter than it was in his hand, but he feels content that maybe he was fated to more than just this shop after all.

You rise onto your tiptoes to give his cheek a peck, smiling up at him as you remain standing before him. A different air washes over you as the world around him seems to get a little clearer and a little calmer. Though the pounding in his chest might beg to differ, because those feelings haven’t changed. Not even a little bit.  

“Tomorrow, usual time?” You ask, taking a step back and clipping your thigh against the corner of the stool.

He laughs, “Yeah, try not to be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply with a small wink. It’s an unsaid fondness, the sort that is patient and forgiving, the kind that warms the two of you with hope for tomorrow and for days to come.

Just as you’re about to walk through the velvet curtains, he calls out to you and watches you turn, tilting your head at him. “Thank you, seriously. You helped me learn a lot.”

“I’m glad, because you helped me too, Jin. Have a good night, okay?”

“Okay, good night.”

His heart is full even as you walk out, because there’s hope for the two of you, for the late bloomers, for the geniuses, for the strugglers, for everyone. And with that small ring, he can help out more than just you now.