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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years ago

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Three Stages Short

Heyyyyyyy it's me again. Soooooo I was wondering if you could do reader who is a civilian getting attacked by a demon in her home and supposedly "dies", leaving kyojuro heartbroken not knowing that she's alive. Fluffy ending please 😊

r.kyojuro/f.reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, reassurance

warning(s): canon-typical violence, demon attacks, minor injuries/blood, big sads, kyojuro in denial+anger (five stages of grief), kyojuro kinda sorta doesn't let this demon off easy >>'''' lil sadistic revenge, y/n has her ears pierced

w.count: 3.4k

synopsis: kyojuro left, you smiled as he went off. when he came back, you weren't there, but your blood and destroyed home were. the stages of grief were cruel and merciless in your absence

-x-x-x-

a/n: haha ouchies (once again she/her used in rq so a female reader!)

-x-x-x-

Kyojuro stands outside your home's entrance with you as you step down into the genkan to come closer to him. He does not move as you reach up to straighten his top button of his black uniform and brush a bit of lint from his haori. Placing your hands on your hips, you nod in approval, an action that he mimics back to you.

"Many thanks, my Dear!"

"You're always handsome, but going to work looking your best is the best course of action."

"That is true," he agrees. "I am a hashira after all!" He gently grabs your hands from your hips and holds them tightly in his own. "I will be going now. I shall stop by as soon as this next job ends. It should not be but a day or two."

His thumbs brush against the parts of your hands he isn't holding hostage in his warm grip and you smile, nodding to him.

"Of course. Remember to be safe out there. I'll be here, waiting." Except when Kyojuro came back, you weren't there at all.

-x-x-x-

True to his word, the mission Kyojuro was sent on took him about a day to travel to, a single night to complete, and a day to travel back.

However, the travel back was a bit prolonged since he had been caught by a fellow group of demon slayers who he spoke to for a while to get a grasp on how they were fair on their missions. A way to gauge how the corps was progressing, especially since he knew there were very promising swordsmen and women among the corps itself.

He was humming to himself in thought at the idea of the corp growing in potential with each day. You weren't involved in his line of work, and he didn't fault you for it. It definitely wasn't for everyone, and he understood that. However, you did enjoy hearing all about his adventures and work whenever he comes back home.

Sitting down over tea or seeing you set aside a good book just for him to tell you about his latest mission, it made him more excited to tell you than you to hear he thinks. He appreciates how much you support and listen to him- even when his thoughts don't match that innocent smile that always stretched on his face.

He entered your little village with the same attitude as he usually did a day and a half after his departure. However, he quickly noticed an edge to the passing folk both in those he recognized and those he did not. It was nearing dusk, the sun hanging low in the late afternoon and casting golden rays that created pitch shadows.

Kyojuro diverged from the familiar path he could walk with his eyes closed that led closer to you and instead went to try and get an answer to the apprehension.

"Excuse me," he spoke clearly to a vendor he often bought from when he would have the time to accompany you to town. "Has something happened?" The vender, an older gentleman who looked frailer than he seemed, frowned. His brow dipped, adding more wrinkles to his already aged complexation.

"Perhaps," he replies, unsure. "In fact, I would like to return your question, young man." Rengoku's thick brow quirked, now less concerned and more confused. "Has something happened?"

"I am afraid I do not understand what you mean."

"Between you and miss y/n, I mean." Hearing your name laced with the slightly tense topic of how thick the air seemed left a bad taste in his mouth. He had a small think, but still came up with nothing. You sent him off with the same smile and good attitude as usual, and it wasn't like you had fought before he left. In fact, he couldn't remember the last argument you both had.

"Nothing that comes to mind. Is she alright? Did she say something while I was gone?" His mind wandered to the possibility that maybe you had vented to someone about how often he was gone. His work was nonstop and required him to leave so often he didn't have much time as he'd like with you- so maybe you were just upset about that?

"No, that is the very issue. Normally, miss y/n will come out into town just for something to do or someone to talk to; to pass time, or whatnot. Regardless, she's always here lighting up our streets." Kyojuro smiled at the compliment. "Though, we haven't seen her since the day before yesterday."

Kyojuro's brow then furrowed. The day before last, so when he departed? Had he really done something to upset you?

"That is odd," he mused, bringing his hand up to curl his fingers around his chin. He tried thinking all sorts of scenarios or possibilities of what was going on, but all seemed too impossible- improbable. Nothing would have kept you from coming out into the village market, even if you were ill you'd tell someone.

So, why the sudden radio silence?

"Once I return to the house, I shall ask her if she's well," Kyojuro tells the gentleman as he brings his hand back down to hang by his side. Kyojuro was a man to never distrust his instincts, so the fact that when his hand fell and his fingers twitched near the hilt of his sword didn't pass him by.

He felt something violent race his spine; like winter had manifested and attached itself straight to his skeleton.

"Please let us know if she is alright." The gentleman lowers his back before he starts away, Kyojuro offers a resolute 'of course!' to his turned, hunched back before he himself resumed the path back to your home. His pace was faster now, nearly gliding across the ground as his speed increased into a very brisk walk.

Something in his throat beat and throbbed as he grew closer. It was like a type of bile that had manifested some sort of heartbeat and it burned like acid at the base of his neck. It made him frown with each step until he stood in front of your door.

That bile in his throat was now burning like flame-ready coal.

His feet felt heavy and his entire being hesitated opening the door and stepping inside. However, on the contrary along with his hesitation he felt like he couldn't move fast enough if he tried, wanting to rip the door right off the hinges. He knew that if he did either, opened too cautiously or too hastily, both would make you grow uneasy so he had to pretend everything was alright.

It was alright, everything was alright. Nothing was wrong, he had no reason to feel so anxious. His gut was wrong, for once he refused to trust the feeling it was pouring into his mind. It was fine, you were fine. Kyojuro denied every cell in his body that was screaming at him that what may or may not have happened was- in fact- not fine. So, he stepped inside.

"Y/n?" His voice was quiet, for him anyway, and he stopped briefly to listen for you in the house. Rummaging in the kitchen, rustling from movement to come greet him, sloshing of bathwater if you were bathing, anything.

Nothing.

All he got was the sound of his own breathing that he hadn't noticed was growing increasingly erratic. He walked cautiously around the quiet house, ears begging to hear something aside from the creaking boards under his weight.

His heart shot into his throat with the burning when he came into the main room. Everything look the same as usual, aside from the far window that gave a clear view of a side alley that you usually kept a curtain over since the narrow passage of shadows made you nervous considering you knew what could, or could not, be in them.

The window's curtains were torn, the fabric ripped into ribbons, and hardly hanging up on the wall anymore. Pieces of the separated fabric were resting on the ground and the rest blew in the air in small flutters. The draft wafting through the room was caused due to the fact the window itself was shattered. Jagged pieces of glass still clung desperately to the frame with cracks in them and the remaining of it was littered on the floor inside. However, his eyes were solely focused on the dried blood that stained the wooden window sill and down the wall, like something- someone- was dragged outside over the broken damage.

The heart that stopped and shot up into his neck started violently throbbing there as it burned with a fierce acid when a Kasugai Crow landed in the broken window frame and opened its pitch black beak in an announcement.

"A demon is in this village! A demon was seen!"

-x-x-x-

It didn't take long for the flame hashira to be joined in your recently vacant home by two other corps members. They had been sent to aid him in the investigation and dispatch of the demon running amok among the village during the night. However, unlike his normal demeanor where he spoke and initialized the investigation and lead his juniors, he remained silent.

It took him some time to come out of the 'zone' he was stuck in while he stared at the window you must've been dragged out of. Now, he stood with his back against the wall beside the window as the other too spoke among themselves, occasionally asking simple questions that Kyojuro would answer with blunt, short answers.

His drastic change in behavior made the hair on the back of their necks stand and a chill remain on their spines. He wasn't smiling, and he wasn't speaking, and his frown was deep and the aura around him was so threatening. If someone had told them he had invisible weapons surrounding him, they would believe it.

Kyojuro was someone who was in tune with his emotions, which is why he was acting the way he was. If he acted out just a fraction or if something would snap that one remaining thread he had that connected his rationality to his rage- he'd go berserk. Kyojuro could honestly say he had never felt so much anger boiling in the pit of his stomach before. It felt like an overflowing pot and he had nothing to settle it.

He felt like was on fire and the only way to get him to simmer down was to smother the flames, or smother the demon who was responsible for the scene before him. Either option suited him well.

It was always his duty to kill and get rid of demons, but now? Now it was personal, separation between work and personal life be damned.

Kyojuro stood beside that window until the sun fully fell down below the horizon and he knew the demon would begin to roam. The other two corps members had orders to start searching around the village for anyone who may be wandering around and to usher them inside to a safe place.

The veins in his neck felt like they were going to burst with how strained he felt and with his arms crossed. The grip he had on his biceps threatened to tear right through the heavy-duty uniform he dawned with just his blunt nails. He shut his eyes, trying to get his breathing, and temperament, under control.

The wind shifted and his eyes slid open after the sun had completely descended and he finally pushed off the wall. His hand lifted him up over the ruined, blood-stained windowsill as the broken glass nicked into his palm- but he paid it no mind. The slight sting in his hand was nothing compared to what you must've gone through.

Landing outside, he turned his head down the alley before he started off. He wasn't entirely sure if he was aimlessly walking, just following in the direction his feet were taking him, or if he was subconsciously tracking the demon down since his sense were more defined than that of average people. Regardless of how, he was on the move.

And soon, the demon came to him.

Standing in front of him was a thin, all bone hardly any skin, lanky demon. It didn't appear to be a very strong demon, not even close to that of a lower moon and the aura it put out was hardly intimidating; but then again, nothing felt intimidating to Kyojuro right now.

"Are you the demon responsible for the recent disappearances in this village?" Kyojuro stands still as he faces the demon who faces him back. Its lips spread, pulling up into a smile that showed its fangs and gums. Pierced into the gums of the demon were multiple different types of what appeared to be small jewels.

"So what if I am, demon slayer?" The hashira didn't know whether this demon was cocky or foolish if he didn't even detect the thick coat of power that enveloped Kyojuro's body.

"Regardless of your answer," Kyojuro reaches across his chest, flicking his haori away from the hilt of his sword before placing his hand on it. "I intend to slay you where you stand for your crimes."

The demon chuckled, hunching over into a position that readied for it to leap into the air or make a quick dash; it's bejeweled gums shining in the minimal light of the alley. Both parties move at the same time, demon manically running at Kyojuro as the hashira comes to meet him halfway.

The demon didn't know what happened until his left arm was severed from his body, a fiery pain shot up his shoulder, and a mess of golden, red-tipped hair fluttered like fire just below his chin. Kyojuro spins quickly and just as easily as the first time, severs the demon's right arm at the shoulder- pulling yet another wail from the demon before he was sliding behind its back.

Kyojuro slices one of it's legs off at the knee, the demon falling off kilter and hitting the ground with a pathetic thud before Kyojuro was standing above it's chest, legs on either side of it's torso looking down at him.

The shadows of the alley made the hashira's form look absolutely menacing, the peeking of moonlight through the grey-nighttime clouds offering just the right amount of light to cast eerily outlines of his body and hair. It was like a giant inferno was staring straight down at the demon, and that was not far from the truth.

The demon had not yet regenerated its lost limbs as Kyojuro inspected it beneath him. His eyes return to the demon's.

"I shall ask again," Kyojuro spoke, flipping his sword in his palm into a reverse grip. The terror in the demon's eyes flicked to the blade that was now hiding halfway behind the hashira's back. "Are you the demon responsible for the disappearances in this village."

With the demon not speaking fast enough for his liking, Kyojuro lifts his arm, bringing the reverse-gripped sword up, the tip of the blade above the demon's head.

"You damn demon slay- acK!" The demon's words were cut short when the blade that threatening hung above him descends with fierce strength. Plunging straight into its open mouth, through the back of its head, and only stopping when Kyojuro felt the blade hit the dirt road under its body. It immediately starts to squirm and thrash, mouth gaping open and shut- or as shut as it could go before its lips got sliced further from the blade lodged between them.

Kyojuro kneels, his knee landing harshly on the demon's chest before his free hand that didn't keep the sword locked in place pushes the demon's head backward by his forehead. Its mouth was now practically locked open as the slayer could take a good look at the jewels in it's gums.

They appeared to be rows of earrings shoved into its mouth. He scanned the jewelry several times, but despite his thoroughness, he could recall none of the shimmering, polished, tainted, jewels to be yours.

Still, the fact he recognized none did not mean anything. His stomach felt like it was once again filling with coal that fueled a bonfire the size of a building.

He had a job to do.

Kyojuro yanks his nichirin blade out of its mouth as it gasps like a fish, still unable to properly close its mouth with the hashira still forcing its head back. When the demon's chin lifted to try and shut its mouth, it pulled the muscles in its throat tight as Kyojuro adjusted his grip once again, pushing the blade against those same tight muscles.

He felt the gasp in the demon's chest under his knee, lifting him just a fraction higher before he was slicing through it's throat with practiced ease. Before long, the demon turned to evaporated ash and Kyojuro was left kneeling in the alley alone.

His job was complete. The demon was slain and the village was now safer than before, the villagers had nothing to worry about now. The fire in his stomach felt staunched now, but in its cooling was something heavy.

It felt like he couldn't move, gravity keeping him on the ground as he stared at the collection of random earrings scattered in front of his knees that didn't get disintegrated along with the demon's body.

He would need to collect them and offer any familiar looking ones to the families of those with vanished loved ones.

"Rengoku-sama!" He could hear one of the two demon slayers who had accompanied him on this mission call out to him from behind. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move. "We found a survivor who claims to have been attacked by the demon!" Not even the semi-joyous news of a survivor made him twitch.

"Rengo-"

"Kyojuro!" The hashira stood quickly and spun on his heel, seeing the pair of demon slayers approach him with the survivor in question on one of their backs. Awake and waving at him, a small open smile of relief on your face. He felt his sword slip from his palm, clattering to the ground.

"Set me down please," you politely tell the one carrying you and he's quick to oblige as you, the best you could, run the rest of the way to your lover.

Part of him was skeptical as he stares down at you. Your kimono was torn at the legs, exposing your knees and below as they were minorly covered in cuts and dirt. Hair askew and those shimmering, familiar, earrings you had bouncing off the moonlight into his eyes.

You could see his disbelief and doubt before you reached into your kimono's front and pulled out a small charm. Covered in a beautiful shade of lavender and releasing the soft smell of wisteria you offer to him your proof that you were one: not a demon, and two: alive.

"Kyojuro," you call again, gently this time, taking his hand and lifting it to set the charm in his palm. You curl his fingers over it and then encase his large hand in both your own. "I'm okay."

Kyojuro ripped his hand from your grasp and just as quickly encased your shoulders with his arms, pulling you as close to himself as possible. Pushing his cheek on your head as he felt you chuckle into his chest. One of his hands pushed on your back, keeping you close, and he could feel your heart beating harshly in your body. It felt like safety when you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing up and down his spine under the cover of his haori.

"Are you alright?" You ask him, but he doesn't answer your question.

"I am sorry."

"For what?"

"For not being there when you really needed me." You shake your head, pushing your face further into his chest and breathing in his warm scent.

"You were there. That wisteria charm really works wonders. I'm alive because you gave that to me." Kyojuro tightened the fist that was behind your head and squeezed the charm tightly in his grip. You pulled away from him just enough to look up at him and his eyes looked wet with a glaze of tears.

You cup his cheeks, eyes glazing over just like his.

"You're always there for me, and you saved my life even when you weren't beside me." You thumb swipes over the apple of his cheek, fingertips brushing away loose strands of his hair. "Thank you so much, Kyojuro."

Kyojuro pushes his lips against your forehead, lingering in the safety you provided as he felt his entire body and mind slowly shift back to normalcy. No more fire, no more rage or hate, no more spinning in denial that you were gone.

"Thank you for staying alive."

-x-x-x-

a/n pt.2: welcome back to i got a wee bit carried away-- again

#kyojurou rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku angst #rengoku fluff #rengoku hurt/comfort #rengoku #rengoku fic #kny rengoku #demon slayer

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missskzbiased · 3 years ago

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The Things We Don’t Tell

Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.

WC: 7,5 K

Genre: Smut, Humor (?)

AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan

(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink

[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]

Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life

- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-

///

You are a superhero.

Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that��

“Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”

“Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.

— That you couldn’t show at your work.

Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.

To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…

… And speaking of which…

Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!

If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.

Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.

It also wasn’t the point right now.

The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.

Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.

He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.

The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.

Not at all.

“Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.

A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.

Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!

The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.

You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?

And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.

The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.

“What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.

The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.

It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.

Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.

As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.

“Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, ��I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.

Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.

Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.

“You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.

“Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.

“Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.

“No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.

“I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.

Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.

Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!

It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.

If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.

“Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.

You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.

“We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.

“What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.

The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.

Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.

You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.

“Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.

The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.

Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.

“It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.

You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.

“You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.

“That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.

What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.

Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…

“As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.

He was definitely trying to warn you of something.

“Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.

And now what?

“So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.

It was practically a silent threat.

In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.

Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.

The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!

That’s not the time for this, Y/N.

The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.

“The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.

“Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”

“I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.

Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!

There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.

The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.

Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.

The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.

“Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.

Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?

“I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”

“We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.

“Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.

“Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.

“Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.

“Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.

“He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.

“Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.

“N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.

“Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.

Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.

If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.

He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.

“That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.

The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…

Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.

You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.

It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.

So you grind on his leg for dear life.

“You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.

“Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.

“Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.

“Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.

There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.

For who you become when lust overcomes you.

The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.

“Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby… I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.

Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.

Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.

“W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

“Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.

“W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.

“Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.

“So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.

The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.

You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.

“Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.

Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!

And… Post.

Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?

Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?

Yeah, right… You just posted it.

Chill.

You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.

Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.

And this was priceless.

Or maybe… It was priceless.

As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!

Don’t panic, Y/N.

You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.

Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.

That’s right…

You just need to take a deep breath and rela—

The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.

Finally!

The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.

It was fun to talk to Weasel.

He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.

His fantasies.

Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.

The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…

You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.

“That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”

“You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.

“I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.

“Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.

“I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”

“First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”

“What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”

“I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.

“No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.

“But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.

“That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.

“Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.

“Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.

“If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”

“What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.

Great… He would never let you live it down.

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Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

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dadbastiandisaster · 3 years ago

Text

This was a suggestion from a lovely Amino user and I shall be posting it on here as well

Devil Town (Sebastian x Reader)

Cw for violence, strong language, and mild gore.

The desert city of Aristos in Hell was a mishmash of palaces and hovels, pubs and dens, some areas glittering with gold and polished marble, others with houses that stacked teetering on top of each other held up with splintering sticks, which would invariably be blown down and rebuilt following the sandstorms. By day the city slept under the bright, scorching heat, only a few Demons skittering through the shadows of alleyways and backstreets, but by night the city came alive. Blood and drinks were spilt across the cobbled roads, businesses usually reserved to the dark corners on earth unabashedly lined high-streets with open doors and glowing lanterns, whilst in the alleys figures gathered and whispered to exchange goods and blows.

It was dusk, and you were sat on your bed with Sebastian, sorting out his wings, knowing he was to leave soon. He had a few ‘jobs’ that day, that was what you both called them. Sebastian (though you knew him at the time as Crow) would leave, he would scare the living shit out of some Demon who owed Sebastian’s, well, Sebastian insisted you didn’t call him a boss, and to be fair most of the time you just called him an asshole. Sebastian would scare the shit out of some Demon who owed Sebastian’s not-boss (Vesper was his name, nasty piece of work) something. Sometimes it was a favour Vesper had called in that the Demon in question wouldn’t deliver on, sometimes it was some good, weapon, a table, goodness knows no slow delivery was too minor to not warrant repercussions, and sometimes all the poor Demon owed Vesper was a better apology for knocking over his drink, which tended to come in the form of missing teeth and cracked ribs. Regardless of the reason, Sebastian would go after them. You made it sound like Sebastian was some sort of professional, and you supposed he was, in some sense, but Sebastian was just as likely to get the stuffing beaten out of him by whoever he’d been sent to hound, and you’d seen him come back with all sorts of injuries: cut tendons, missing fingers, some injuries that didn’t even bear thinking about. You would shut shop, patch him up, and dependent on how badly he was injured either talk him into getting some sleep until opening hours were over, or just stay with him.

Still, he wasn’t gone quite yet, so you were making the most of it. You sat cross legged, pulling crap from the backs of Sebastian’s tattered wings. They were big, twelve feet from wingtip to wingtip you guessed, and bulging with eyes, though those were at the time closed so you wouldn’t accidentally poke them. The feathers were black, and most were nicked at least somewhere, and a lot were missing altogether, either from fights or because Sebastian would pull them out; you tried to persuade him not to, but old habits die hard you supposed.

“Who is it today?” You asked, as you pulled a few splinters from between Sebastian’s feathers.

“Possum, which is fine, Owl, and Lycana.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Who’s the last one?” Sebastian shrugged.

“I’m not sure, Vesper just said they owed him a knife, a cursed one I believe,” Sebastian stated. You ran your fingers down Sebastian’s wing to feel for anything else, but found the feathers seemingly clear of further debris, so you moved onto the other wing, starting at the end and working inwards.

“Hopefully it won’t be anything horrendous.”

“Let’s hope not,” Sebastian muttered.

“Still, someone who sells cursed knives, bit… ominous. Makes you wonder what they’ll have on them.” Sebastian just shrugged. “You have no sense of self-preservation.”

“It’s not about self-preservation. Vesper wants someone hassled, I hassle them. It’s how things work.” Sebastian shifted. “I need to get going,” he stated. You frowned, and moved your hands to scratch the bases of Sebastian’s wings, feeling his muscles relax and unwind at your touch. “No, really Y/N. I have to get going.” You carried on, feeling Sebastian struggle against leaning into you.

“And I’m not finished with your other wing,” you replied. For a few seconds you felt Sebastian’s wings drooping, his back curving from its usually straight position and you almost wondered if he was going to fall asleep, before he pushed himself off your bed and onto his feet.

“I need to get going,” Sebastian stated, before leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he only laughed. Bastard. Pretty bastard though. Your pretty bastard.

Sebastian treaded the streets of Hell, slipping through the crowds. He was going to Possum first. He wanted to spend as little of his day injured as possible, and he knew for a fact that Possum wouldn’t put up a fight. When he rapped on the door of Possum’s little den, judging by the several thumps, the sorry creature could barely make it to the door without losing their balance. It opened, and possum jumped about a foot backwards, falling once again and landing on their backside. They looked up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes ringed by almost bruised dark circles. Possum was the Demon embodiment of the word twitchy at the time, their hair unruly and their skin sickly pale and faintly yellow. Their perpetual shaking looked bad enough that Sebastian almost thought it could be used as a method of locomotion.

“Oh, of course, Crow,“ they stammered, with a faltering, terrified grin, putting both their trembling hands up in surrender. Possum was not cruel, at least by Demon standards, and Sebastian pitied them more than anything, but they had an incredible knack for landing themselves in trouble. “Now, now, I know what you’re here about,” they began, letting out a strangled laugh. Sebastian nodded. “Listen, last night… the look I gave Vesper, I knew I was out of line. I’m sorry. I-“ Sebastian slipped a knife, a regular knife, from his pocket and placed it underneath Possum’s chin, and almost instantly Possum started rambling. The words tumbled stammering and so rapid from Possum’s mouth that Sebastian couldn’t understand half of what they were saying, but judging by the sweat literally dripping from their face, Sebastian guessed Possum had got the message. “I wasn’t thinking straight, you know, and I wasn’t even meaning to look at Vesper really, and fuck knows I’m so sorry man, you know I’m sorry, don’t you Crow, you know me, I’m not-“ Sebastian put the knife away, and Possum choked back a few sobs of relief. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou. It won’t happen again, I promise it will never happen again,” Possum whimpered. It would happen again, probably only next week, but as far as Possum’s racing mind could comprehend this would be last issues they ever had with Vesper. Sebastian dreaded the day Possum finally did something to invite real wrath from some Demon and got themselves killed. Sebastian really hoped he didn’t have to be the person doing the killing.

Owl was next. In contrast to Possum’s disheveled den, Owl’s house greeted Sebastian with a glistening wood door, adorned with a brass plate simply reading ‘Abode of Owl’. Sebastian used the knocker, and waited, trying to look less bothered than he felt. The door opened a minute later, and Sebastian raised his chin and stood a little straighter. Owl eyed him disdainfully, solid black eyes glancing over him toe to head. Owl was neat, with smooth, dark skin, wings far less tattered than his, and a beak where a mouth would have usually sat. She looked at Sebastian in about the same manner someone might look at a particularly unattractive dog. “Crow,” Owl stated.

“I believe you know why I’m here,” Sebastian said.

“Vesper will not be receiving the rubies I bet because he cheated, and problematically, was caught. I believe I made myself quite clear on the matter,” Owl stated.

“It’s not up to me.”

“I think it is. I think you can go back to Vesper, explain that he shan’t be receiving his ill-gotten winnings because he cheated, and that if he wishes to pursue the matter further, he can come himself instead of sending his lap dog to snap at my ankles.” Sebastian did not particularly appreciate being referred to as a lap dog, but his anger was entirely for show. He narrowed his eyes and stepped up onto the doorstep, so he was far closer to Owl than he was comfortable with.

“Vesper won’t be taking no for an answer,” Sebastian stated, forcing a bit of edge into his tone.

“Vesper won’t, but perhaps you ought to.” Sebastian stepped back just in time to avoid the sting of the dagger, and pulled out his own knife, this one a Demon blade, just as Owl was using, as distinguished by the green, crystalline gleam of their blades.

It was over in seconds, a brief scuffle that left them both edging away from each other and bleeding. Sebastian couldn’t quite feel the wound in his leg yet, but he knew it was there, and Owl was gripping her own slit arm. They locked eyes for a few seconds, before Owl retrieved a bag full of twinkling gems. “There,” she growled, holding the bag out to Sebastian with her good arm. “Take the wretched things. See if I care.” Owl spat on the ground before slamming the door, as Sebastian lay panting on the ground, willing himself to stand up and put weight on his injured leg.

He limped back to Vesper’s palace with the rubies. It mattered little what Vesper was going to use the rubies for; maybe decoration, maybe storing souls, who knew?

Vesper’s palace rose angular and uncompromising from the sand. By then the residual warmth of the evening had faded so the desert winds carried a dry chill, ans the shadow of Vesper’s castle blocked out most of the moonlight. As Sebastian looked up at it, the word monolith came to mind.

He’d had the foresight to tighten his belt around his bleeding leg, but it didn’t make the pain much better. Every step brought a fresh stab of hurt shooting up his leg and he’d wince and hurriedly take his weight off it which only meant he had to take another step and out weight on it again. He hoped this Lycana didn’t put up much of a fight, because he doubted he would handle it.

Sebastian knocked on the door, which like every part of the palace, seemed intended for someone considerably taller than even him. He almost felt himself shrink before the tall, black door, and began to absentmindedly pick at the feathers on his wings until finally the door glided open, at which point he stood up straight again. Aries eyed him tiredly. He was big, taller than Sebastian by a foot, something exaggerated by his great, spiralling horns and mane of woollen hair, but his thin sheep’s legs never seemed quite sturdy enough to support his upper half, giving him an unbalanced appearance. “Finished hassling some poor sod?” Aries droned, eying Sebastian’s wounded leg.

“No, I was out for a drink,” Sebastian growled sarcastically, before holding the bag of rubies out to Aries. “Tell him they’re from Owl.”

“I will. Is that you done for the day? Oh no, Vesper mentioned he was waiting for something from Lycana. Do you know them?” Sebastian chewed the inside of his cheek.

“No.”

“They’re very nasty. If you think that little cut’s bad you’ve got another thing coming.” On that somber note, Aries faked a smile before shutting the door in Sebastian’s face. Prick, Sebastian thought. He didn’t think the cut from Owl was bad anyway, he’d had worse, it was just inconvenient. Simmering, he set off to find Lycana.

It took a solid to hours to find them. Their shop had no sign, save for a little open and closed card that dangled from a rusty nail above the door, and as Sebastian watched it sway, the feeling of dread was almost enough to make him nauseous. By that point it was just past midnight and the night was cold, Sebastian had his thick leather coat done up but the biting winds that scampered down Aristos’ alleyways sunk straight into his bones. The blood-loss was also making him feel faintly unwell, but he was trying to ignore it. As Airies said, it just a cut. He opened the door into a poorly lit, cramped shop, with only a counter manned by a hulking creature half way between wolf and human that Sebastian took to be Lycana. Sharp teeth spilled out from an unnaturally elongated snout, the top and bottom of which didn’t seem to quite line up, but their eyes were uncannily human. Sebastian felt every hair on his body stand on end, but he swallowed his apprehension and walked into the shop. Just this one job and then he was done. “You’re Vesper’s pet bird, aren’t you?” They asked, their voice a low growl Sebastian felt in his guts. Sebastian felt the incredible urge to leave.

“Yes,” he answered, sounding calm but feeling himself break out in a cold sweat. It was all he could do not to flee. Lycana grunted, then stood, so tall they had to stoop in their own shop, and for a second he thought Lycana was going to retrieve the desired knife and he’d been worrying about nothing, but instead in one smooth movement they leapt over the counter and at Sebastian. Sebastian lost his nerve and ran.

For a second he spread his wings to fly, knowing Lycana wouldn’t be able to follow, but instead a clawed hand closed around them and the thin bones snapped under the pressure. Sebastian gasped, feeling his knees briefly threaten to give out in shock. He managed to slip out of Lycana’s grip and now flightless ran as fast as he could down the street, hearing Lycana snapping at his heels. He ran scrambling and tripping towards the high street, where he might at least be able to lose Lycana, nearly toppling over as he hurtled round corners, his heart pounding in his ears. Just as he was about to emerge onto the main street, Lycana leapt in front of him, blocking his way, and he had to turn on his heel and run back the opposite way.

He ran for ten minutes before he fell. Whilst the adrenaline blocked the pain, his leg was bleeding harder than ever, and after ten minutes he was so dizzy it felt like the floor was swaying beneath him. He was turning a sharp corner when he lost his footing and landed hard on his side, hitting his head and knocking the air from his lungs, filling his vision with bright spots. Lycana landed on all fours on top of him. They seemed even bigger than he remembered, their limbs and neck longer, and they drew from their pocket a crystalline blade, which held a faintly purple shimmer. Sebastian was too stunned to move, paralysed with his heart thundering as he looked up at the Demon above him.

Lycana moved slowly enough that he felt the point of the dagger before they pushed it gradually into his side, so he had plenty of of time to realise what was happening. Sebastian felt like he was going to black out, as he took quick, gasping breaths, willing them not to kill him, and they didn’t. They drew the dagger back out again, and smiled as much as something with a distended wolf’s snout for a mouth could smile. “Are you going to bother me again?” They asked almost in a purr. Sebastian couldn’t speak, all that came out was a choking noise, so instead he frantically shook his head. “Good. Now you will tell Vesper when you next see him that the blade will be done when I say it is, not when he does.” Sebastian nodded, feeling blood in his throat. “Then I think we will have no further quarrel. You’ll find out what this knife does soon,” Lycana stated, almost playfully, as they waved the dagger in front of Sebastian’s face. Sebastian would have been content to not find out, but he suspected he didn’t have a choice. With that, Lycana let him go, loping away on all fours back towards their shop as he lay panting on the ground.

You heard the door to your shop open and a Sebastian staggered in, drenched in sweat and blood and looking ready to collapse. You hurried over to give him something to lean on and to put up the closed sign, before helping him up the stairs to your house. He was limping badly, and after he nearly tripped you elected to try and take it one stair at a time; ascending steps with only one functioning leg is slightly difficult. You let him down on a chair and hurried out to go and get supplies.

For someone who had been stabbed in two places, Sebastian looked calm. If the wounds hurt, and they had to, Sebastian gave little indication of it. “Well done on at least trying to stop your leg bleeding, though I would have preferred you’d come to me,” you stated.

“That was from Owl, and I knew you would be reluctant for me to finish up with Lycana afterwards,” Sebastian replied, and though there was the slightest quiver to his voice, he sounded for all the world like he was discussing the weather, but his hands betrayed him. They shook such that he couldn’t undo the fastenings on his jacket, and you had to open it for him, and pull up his trouser leg. You washed your hands with ash from the fire, then set to work. You cleaned the worst of the blood from the wounds, treated them with a paste made form the plants of Hell that you had found prevented injuries going bad, and a little from those which had a numbing effect, before stitching them up and wrapping them in gauze. You were done in five minutes, all the while Sebastian barely flinched, and you didn’t hear more than a hiss from him. When you finally looked up Sebastian’s jaw was locked and his lips were bleeding from where he’d bitten them

“Anything else I missed?” Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but what came out instead was blood, a fair amount, and a smaller amount of bile. You grabbed bucket you’d washed your hands in and handed that to Sebastian then held his hair out the way until he stopped retching. It was not the first time Sebastian had thrown up blood on your floors, and he had at least got relatively little on you.

“My apologies,” Sebastian choked out before swallowing. “No… It was… just the two. My wings were broken… but I think they’ve healed.”

“Just the two stab wounds.”

“I’ll clean-“

“No you won’t. Put on some clean clothes then get your sorry arse into bed, you pillock. I’ll help. The last thing either of us need is you fainting and knocking a tooth out, again.”

“I’ll try to pass out more gently next time,” Sebastian muttered, but let you help him to his feet.

You came in a few minutes later, having cleaned up and properly closed your shop, wielding Sebastian’s jacket, shirt and trousers now free of blood, with a needle and thread. Sebastian was sat amidst an array of plucked feathers, his wings now slightly barer, and his skin still distinctly pale. “You need to stop pulling those out.” Sebastian pulled his best kicked puppy face as you sat down next to him in bed.

“I know.” You dropped the items of clothing onto Sebastian’s lap, then handed him the needle and thread.

“Fix those instead. You’re going to run out of feathers some day.”

“We’re Demons, I don’t think that’s possible,” Sebastian replied, resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping a wing around you.

“Don’t look at me if the tops of your wings go bald.” Sebastian tried for a few seconds to thread the needle, before ultimately handing both to you, his hands still too shaky to manage. “Is the balm doing much for the pain?”

“It’s better than it would be normally,” Sebastian answered, which essentially meant he was in borderline unbearable pain but he appreciated the effort.

“I’ll try putting more houndsfoot in next time.” You reached round Sebastian, being careful of the wound on his side, and began to scratch at the base of his wings, feeling Sebastian relax.

“I should probably mention that Lycana’s dagger was cursed. They said we would find out what the curse was.” You raised an eyebrow, looking over at Sebastian, who displayed no real concern, and was mostly focusing on his jacket, his eyes already half-lidded.

“You probably should mention that. Well, if you start bleeding spiders, at least we’ll know why.” Sebastian screwed up his nose.

“I hope not. I don’t mind spiders but that is a bit much.”

“Maybe I should stop being a pharmacy and start making cursed weapons. I bet I could come up with some properly nasty ones.”

“Or you could do both. Creates demand, doesn’t it?”

“You’re cruel.”

“I know,” Sebastian replied with a hint of pride.

“Cruelest, most evil and scary Demon in Hell,” you sang. Sebastian elbowed you. All in all it was a fairly average Tuesday.

The curse on the blade was that teeth grew from Sebastian’s wounds, which whilst greatly disturbing, were removed without too much difficulty (very little like pulling teeth, thankfully), and after a week said curse wore off so really Sebastian got off fairly lightly. Your pretty, and very lucky, bastard.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #reader insert #anime #black butler fanfiction #kuroshitsuji fanfiction

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blush-and-books · 3 years ago

Text

sun's gone // but you always liked this time of day

angsty, hurt/comfort with a happy ending, juke canonverse. title from Place In Me by Luke Hemmings. special shoutout to my dear @unsaid-emily who loves this lyric as much as i do.

warnings: luke is just going through a lot and its scientifically proven that anger destroys brain cells so just be ready

----

Finding out that Rose's death day was on the same day as his mom's birthday was... Not easy, for Luke.

Him and Julie both mourning different things. Both of them felt different things surrounding their mom situations, and Luke knew that his job as Julie's "Luke" was to be there for her. He had been there for Reggie when his dad was leaving home every night to go sleep wherever his mom wasn't, and when Alex's parents turned into apathetic losers post-coming out.

He should be a master at all of this parent shit.

Unfortunately, there's a difference between losing love for or from your parents, and losing that parent to a force out of your control. Luke was used to the tension that was easy to complain about; to criticizing what his friends' families were doing wrong.

From how Julie talks about her, it doesn't sound like Rose Molina was doing anything wrong.

He can't help the way that rage smolders in a deep pit of his stomach. He hates that Julie's sad, and he hates that he didn't have a mom like Rose Molina, and he hates that the universe was cruel enough to give his favorite person such a wonderful mother and take her away before Julie was even an adult.

Sometimes, especially today, he's reminded of the hate he felt for his mom. When he was fifteen and wrote her a real song, one of his first when he started to improve his writing skills, and he could see the twitch in her eye of disdain.

That night, she told him to start looking at jobs. He was old enough, after all.

He went to the closest place he could find - a local diner - picked up an application, and cried.

She didn't care about his art; she didn't realize how his art meant more than anything he could buy with money. What was starting to sting was the fact that she probably would never care. And as he got older, she made it increasingly clear, and...

Yeah. Emily's birthdays were bitter.

Luke was bitter.

Julie was depressed.

He went to see her that day, it was a Saturday, and tried to talk to her. His hand softly ran up and down her side as she curled under the comforter, and when she invited him under the blankets he gratefully accepted the invitation.

Maybe Julie, the girl that made them whole again, could heal this little extra wound, too.

They talk. Julie cries; he avoids it.

"It's just really hard to be without her, you know? Sometimes shit just happens and it feels like a time she needs to be here, and she's not, and I don't know what to do."

Luke misses feeling like that. But it stopped about a month after he left home.

"Well, I mean, I've gone this long without a mom, and I'm fine. You can live without her. You're gonna be fine."

He says it with the same apathetic tone he always uses when he shifts into Emily-mode, and it isn't supposed to be like that, but it is.

Painfully.

And his mistake is obvious when Julie's frowning lips part open in horror, and her eyes are welling fresh with tears that illuminate the red around her irises.

Carelessly, with his eyes wide open, he's torn her apart.

Under the comforter, he feels cold. Even Julie's body next to him feels cold, and-

"Julie-"

"Get out. Please."

"I'm sor-"

"Luke, please- Leave me alone."

When Luke finally sobs, he's alone. It's dark outside and the garage is empty because the boys respect that it's a rough day for many people in this household, but the sadness and anger overcome him until he's opening his mouth to scream and nothing comes out, and when he's so dehydrated that his body is void of any tears, he sits on the couch with a damp face and plucks the chords of Emily's birthday song from 27 years ago.

He tries not to feel the numbing depression very often. But you can only push down such strong emotions for so long before they choose to ignore your fighting attempts.

Julie made it easier to battle the fury he felt towards his mom. That woman will always have a grasp on him, a place in him - probably because he never properly processed it. He's stuck with all of it now. The internal playlists of songs that remind him of how mad he is or sad he is, for him to listen to whenever his temper towards Emily seethes.

Tonight, he doesn't have a choice but to face it.

----

The next morning, there's a note for him.

Please give me the day to myself.

No author claims their identity, but the loopy "y" is a dead giveaway that Julie wrote it, let alone the content. His chest does that shitty thing where his ribs feel as though they are compressing against his lungs and breathing is hard.

He feels like that all day, but he still waits.

But he barely makes it to sunset before he is poofing to the hallway and standing before her bedroom, fist raised to knock.

The sunset was pretty tonight. He hopes she enjoyed it. Her favorite time of day is dusk, when the air only feels fresher because it carries a chill with it, and the world begins to slow down.

Luke knocks.

Julie answers.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out before she has the chance to interrupt or he has the chance to say something stupid. "What I said- That was my stupid, stupid anger at my mom. It was her birthday yesterday." Julie looks surprised to hear this, of course she didn't know, but she doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what it's like to go through what you did. I wanted to support you yesterday, and I didn't, and I know that. My feelings got the better of me, and that isn't fair. And I am so, so sorry, Julie."

She remains still in front of him, but only for a beat. Eventually, she moves aside, wordlessly, and stares at him expectantly.

He takes exactly four steps inside, and plants his feet once again.

"It's not stupid," is the first thing she says. Her voice has a piercing edge to it that he rarely hears, and he hates it, but stays quiet. "How you feel about your mom. Don't call it stupid. I don't think it's stupid."

She takes a deep breath. A tear slips through her lashes.

"But what you said was really fucking insensitive. All I needed from you was to be there and hold me and let me ride this wave, not try to relate or compare our problems. How would you feel if I tried to guilt you for running away because 'at least you had a mom'?"

Shitty. He'd feel shitty, because they are two different situations and she has no right to speak on something that she hasn't gone through.

He answers with that, verbatim. And he throws in another apology for good measure, making it clear that he understands where he went wrong.

"Good. You understand. Thank you."

Her eyebrows twist together. It's a tell that she wants to say something too.

"If you ever need to talk about your mom, you know I'm here for it. I didn't know her birthday was yesterday."

Understanding, he nods. He didn't tell her it was Emily's birthday, because the day was supposed to be about Rose, and then it wasn't.

"Thank you."

The two of them fall silent.

Luke doesn't want to leave, but feels like he should; Julie hasn't asked him to leave, but he doubts she wants him to stay.

They're just two kids with gaps in their hearts, left by the absence of their mothers.

Sometimes - all the time - Luke feels Julie filling that gap. Not as a mom, of course, but as another person; someone to love him and support him and make him happy.

Emily might not ever go away in his head. But Julie Molina, over anyone, will always have a place in his heart, in his head, and in his soul.

She's just magic like that.

So magic that she finds it in herself to step forward, and he is roped in by her gravitational pull, and they're falling into each other's arms.

Luke imagines that if he ever went to a heaven instead of coming back to the modern day, that this, Julie's arms around him, is the feeling that would greet him at that end.

Everything feels better here.

----

tags: @bluefirewrites @lydias--stiles @sylphrenas @wlwcarries @ruzek-halstead @willexx @sirena-de-lunas @babydagger28 @phantomsandsunsets

#jatp #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #juke fanfic

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years ago

Note

What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎

A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)

Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration

There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.

The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.

It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.

Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.

It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.

The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.

He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.

To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.

And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.

The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.

As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.

"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.

"No. Impressed."

"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."

He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.

"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"

It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,

"Good Morning Dr Walton."

Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.

Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.

She looked striking like she always did.

In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.

All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.

And what does one do when emotions go out of control?

Self Preservation.

Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.

Idiotic.

That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.

He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.

An asshole.

As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.

The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.

It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.

Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?

Never.

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

It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.

It's a text from Naveen.

Skipping is not an option for today night!

A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.

Flashback:

It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.

"There is no need-"

"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.

"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."

"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"

"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.

"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."

Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.

"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"

Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,

"For her too."

And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...

Flashback ends

As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.

He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.

All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.

He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,

"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."

His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.

His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.

He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.

His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.

Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.

But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?

It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.

One which he refused to commit.

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

As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.

No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.

It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.

And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.

No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.

As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.

Will she even get a reaction?

Maybe just a nod, or a look.

No words.

She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.

She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.

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

In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.

Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.

Strange, even.

It's something that will take some time to get used to.

The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.

On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.

The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.

It's magical.

Dangerous, but still, magical.

A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.

The call of his name makes him turn around.

Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...

Gratitude.

They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.

And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.

If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.

Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.

There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.

Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.

Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.

Become inseparable.

She smiles, it's faint.

It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.

And he knows.

He's the reason.

Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.

Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.

Everyone except her.

She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.

As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.

Naveen.

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

Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.

A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.

Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.

And something else (or maybe not?)

Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.

"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."

"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."

Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?

Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.

The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.

The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.

Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.

Selcouth.

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

Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.

No one could.

Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.

The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).

And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.

Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.

He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.

He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.

He missed her.

The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.

She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.

And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.

Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.

Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.

Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.

He leans back, places a hand down.

There is a lack of warmth.

Soon enough, another hand joins him.

The cold is gone.

And so is his search of moonbeams.

Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.

She was his moon.

And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.

He was her world.

In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.

Not even they themselves.

It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.

He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.

That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.

The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.

But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.

Yes, he waits for the day.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags💕 (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed) :

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @jessiembruno

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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hajimeiwaswife · 4 years ago

Note

congrats on your milestone ane! I would like yuuji itadori with these lyrics!"And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime, and I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine" . Take your time and please don't feel rushed!!

AHHHH LUNA THANK YOU SO MUCH! AND CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE, TOO! I hope this meets your expectations!

Request: yes, for the 130 followers event.

Word count: 1,2K

Warnings: none

Summary: Yuuji indulges on his desires for once.

It was the first time in months that the students at Jujutsu High had a day off, a very rare sight, indeed. The second years proposed to their juniors to go to the beach, a relaxing paradise that would bring so much needed rest to the sorcerers. Crystal clear water, bright sea shells, flamboyant swimsuits and delicious food, that was what the young adults had for themselves.

Megumi was under an umbrella, covered in sunscreen and reading a book, content with his own safe space. Nobara and Makki were toasting under the sun, thinking no one suspected anything of their small and lingering touches to each other. Playing in the water were Panda and Inumaki, the taller one running away from a wild Toge who tried to rub a fish on his back.

Meanwhile, Yuuji and you were sitting in the sand, smiling and talking about everything and anything. It had been like that ever since you met each other, finding comfort and a scape in the other's arms, easy conversation falling out of your mouths, as if you had been friends since childhood.

You always felt some kind of warmth emitting from Yuuji; at first, you thought it was his natural good aura, being the closest thing to the sun you had ever witnessed. But that was discarded the moment you decided to face your feelings for the boy. Gentle, caring, outgoing, happy-go-lucky and attractive, you didn't even know when it happened, but you fell head over heels for him.

Yuuji, on his part, felt this cold breeze of August afternoons after a really hot day at the Mediterranean Coast when he was with you, refreshing and renewing. He loved to witness your beautiful personality grow and transform as you learned new things, your illusion for your job, how you cared for those near you, how strong you were. The duality in you made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

And that is why he decided not to tell you about his feelings. He knew how his story would end being Sukuna's vessel, when he had consumed all the fingers, he would be sacrificed for a greater good. He wasn't going to lie, he was terrified of dying, losing the possibility of growing old and experimenting life to its fullest, not being able to spend more time with his lovely friends ―or, as he liked to refer to them, family―, and not being able to live a life with you. His biggest regret. How could he be so selfish of hiding his feelings for you from you? But maybe it was better that way, losing a friend is less painful than losing a soulmate, and you had already lost him once when everybody thought he was dead. You would be okay.

Still, he could do it with just a kiss, just a gentle caress of your lips on his before he had to say goodbye. He looked at your profile, relaxed and breathing the salty sea breeze, the sun kissed your skin, glowing under dusk. You were truly beautiful, so much that he was left breathless with only the sight of you.

"I was thinking of going tomorrow for some Korean noodles to the Korean restaurant next to the school," you commented, amazed watching the swinging of the waves, "and I was wondering if maybe, uh you know... if you wanted to come with me." flustered, you asked him.

However, Yuuji was still trying to get over the sweet tone of your voice to even process your words. How could a human being have such a mellow voice? He could hear you talk all day in exchange of being allowed to listen to it. But, sooner than later, you would want a reply to your question, so he made the effort to think about what you said. Once he processed you had asked him out without actually doing so, his brain stopped working. You wanted to go to have lunch with him? Alone? Just the two of you?

"I-if you don't want don't feel forced to! I was just offering..." you exclaimed, shyer than he had ever seen you.

"No! No, of course I want to!" he shouted, startling you and cursing himself for his cringy behaviour, "I meant that, well, I would love to!"

"Okay."

It was silent for a few moments, both content with the date not actually date you were going to have, both your hearts racing, but none of you brave enough to tell the other. Nobara on more than one occasion had tried to convince you ―usually in a very violent way― to confess your feelings to the pinkie-haired boy, but you had refused. You were happy being his friend, in a world like the one you all lived in there was no place for love.

But watching him under the sun, moon appearing in the sky reflecting in his perfect skin had you thinking otherwise. Exactly because of the world you lived it was worth it, you needed to enjoy the time you two had, be it a day or fifty years. Sighing, you turned fully to him and opened your mouth, saying all the things your heart felt and that Yuuji deserved to know.

"I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime," you started. Yuuji looked at you surprised.

"Really? Where have you heard that? Only once in a lifetime? That's sad. Why no more than once?" his energetic self wondered out loud, waiting for an explanation to his questions. But you decided to follow as you had planned in that very instant.

"And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine."

Yuuji, eyes wide-opened, gazed at you as the cows looked the trains pass. What had you said? You were in love with him? Was that what you meant? He was confused, glad, happy, euphoric. The girl of his dreams was in love with him of all people. Or maybe you were reciting a poem and he was getting excited for nothing.

"Wait, do you mean it? Like, you like me?" he asked, trying to assured himself.

"I mean, yes? That's what I have just told you," at this point you were a nervous wreck, fidgeting and regretting your spontaneous decision.

Yuuji was going to tell you he reciprocated your feelings, but the thoughts from before returned, darkening his expression. He was going to die, sooner or later, it was unfair for you to be gifted what you wanted and then have it taken away from you all of a sudden.

"If you feel the same just say it, Yuuji, don't think about your situation for this, be fair to yourself."

Your voice. It was it that brought him back to the world. Your welcoming eyes looking at him with so much love that he could get lost in your attention. You were right, he had to think of himself for once, he was going to fall in the pleasure of having what he wanted, which resulted to be you. He nodded, incapable of talking as he saw you approaching him and caressing his lips with yours, as he had dreamt of before.

Like that, the rest of your friends witness your kiss under the stars a Wednesday evening after having an amazing day off, completely relaxed and in love.

If he had to die, he will. But, before that happened, he was going to be your love.

#yuuji x reader #yuuji x y/n #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen #130followersevent

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botwstoriesandsuch · 3 years ago

Text

Heya!! Kip here! The @memorabiliazine preorders have just shipped, which means we can share our pieces now! I wrote this piece back in February, after theorizing about the presence of Robbie's Telescope being present in the Royal Tech Lab in Age of Calamity. So without further a do, here be my little essay/fic on some old ruins, or more specifically, its:

Cause of Destruction

The storm had come too late. Thankfully, it was all devastated.

She continued to run from the screaming.

The Sheikah woman headed for the hills, brittle trees littering the eastern side of the Lindor mountain side. If she hurried, she could meet up with the others who had—

A distant crack of thunder melded with the collapse of stone; she makes the mistake of glancing back.

In the greater horizon, the shadow of Hyrule Castle looms over a conquered dusk. A shrill cry—something between a roar and a whine—escapes from the cloudy malice beast that enshrouds the Hylian monument. But that was just the backdrop, the canvas for contrast. Closer still, in the billowing grass of North Hyrule Plain, the stormy winds cut through fog and smoke like a dagger.

In the opened wound, the faint silhouette of a building glows.

Blue.

She keeps running.

The color might have at one point been appealing—the symbol of the Royals, the pleasant hue that cloaked a perfect morning. But tonight it just haunted her...chased her...reminded her of the terrible deed that was done.

A horse came over the hills.

“HEY!” a man shouted, mounted on a grey horse. “MA’AM! HALT, PLEASE!”

Crap. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, clutched her limp, burned arm, and kept moving. I just need to reach the trees.

But the chase seemed over before it had even started. When she had first started running from the blue, some wandering captain had stopped her to ask what was wrong. There was a strange kindness in his striking eyes, a forgein concept in this land now stricken with grief, death, and paranoia. In her haste—and possibly shame of what she had done—she had just pushed the captain away and fled. Very inconspicuous…good job me.

Now it seems he had found her again. Any other day she might have commended him for his kindness in checking with some random Sheikah, during the end of the world no less.

But tonight, well...there’s a sliver of her that might have preferred death.

The woman tripped on a divet in the earth, crashing down on one of her badly burned legs, and hissed at the pain. The rain had muddied the path, and was staining her once white clothes a disgusting marron. The pounding of hooves grew closer, until they halted right next to her ears.

A pair of leather boots crashed into the mud.

“Ma’am, don’t get up. You’re injured. Please.”

The clang of metal armour accompanies the voice. Oh he was a captain alright, equipped well for the apocalypse. His metalspear and armour adorned in—

She looks up.

Blue.

A slight frown.

The man tries to help her to her feet, watching to not clutch on the wounds on her right side. “Whatcha doing all the way out here? The nearest settlement is a ways away.” The captain lifts up one of her arms, and his eyes widen just a bit. “Dammit...those burns look bad. We might getcha some aid...there’s a laboratory place nearby that I’m heading by, just due east and—”

“...Lab?” The woman can’t help but wonder aloud. No...you idiot, you can’t be serious.

The captain smiles again. “See now, that’s why I was so eager to catch your attention. You’re running in the wrong direction.” He points in the direction she was running towards. “Up where you’re going is just mountains. There’s a fancy smancy lab a bit south that could help patch you up better than—”

“If you head to that lab, you’ll die.” She lets the words linger for a moment. “Unless, of course, that was the desired plan for the evening.” The woman laughs to herself, but the sound is empty and dry.

He frowns. “...What?”

She’s silent, gears turning in her head. Goddess...how do I say this without—

She points east, the rain pattering on her outstretched sleeve. “Tell me, Captain. What do you see over there?”

The man pauses, his face contort with confusion. He follows her hand and stares at the blue.

“...North Hyrule Plain. Some building glowing blue over there…I’m assuming that’s the techno-wizz from the L—”

“Lab, yes. That would be the Royal Ancient Lab. Though I’m afraid it’s not glowing from ‘techno-wizz’ or anything of that sort, dear captain.”

She crosses her arms, turning to look away from the blue and hugging her knees. “It’s currently burning to the ground.”

An ugly pause, as the man seems to take a moment to digest this. He flickers his gaze between the Sheikah and the distant blue building.

“I-It’s...It’s raining though—”

“Blue flame, I’m afraid, is a bit more resistant. Plus, it’s been burning long before the storm came through.”

“What...I…” The captain sits next to her, plopping into the mud in disbelief. “I was really thinking that...why would…”

He turns to her, his eyes are stormy grey, with faint specks of blue, like embers. The captain’s tone is gravely serious. “Miss, why was that lab destroyed?”

The question catches her off guard. Her jaw’s clenched, but she breaks their staring contest and hides her surprise with a shrug. “Same reason as every other disaster today. Calamity Ganon destroyed it.”

There’s a crack of thunder, and the ground shudders at her lie.

“...No.” the man mumbles.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to process—”

“No, I mean,” he stands, hand reaching for his back, “that’s not what actually happened, is it ma’am?”

Crap. The Sheikah holds her hands in the air. “If this is about me shoving you earlier, I was just a bit—”

“Aw now don’tcha worry about that, I took no personal offense.” He scratches the blond stubble on his chin.

“Now the thing that I do find some mighty fine offense to, is the fact that there’s a good lick of a chance that I’m currently speaking to an arsonist traitor.”

There’s a BOOM, and in the distance, another large piece of the Royal Lab collapses into the earth. The blue grows brighter.

“Me? What in the name of Hylia are you—”

“Let’s not play dumb, ma’am. Trust me, I’m a sucker for some pleasantries and small talk, though I’m afraid addressing the fact that you burned down the nearest safe haven for miles is gonna take priority here.”

The Sheikah woman just fumes, attempting to get up in the captain’s face. “How DARE you accuse me of—”

She’s cut off by the shing of metal cutting through air. The captain twirls the spear on his back and points the end right at her neck, resting just below her chin. She scowls, but puts her hands in the air.

“You just don’t understan—”

“That’s a mighty fine torch you got there…” He clicks his tongue.

Both hands grip his spear steady, ready to pierce flesh at any moment. The captain gestures with a wink to the torch attached to her waist. It seems to still smolder slightly with faint blue embers.

The captain looks between the torch, and the blue fire in the horizon.

“Yes, a mighty fine torch indeed.” He presses the spear tip a bit further forward.

“And it’s glowing a familiar color.”

Cause of Destruction

An Analysis of the Destruction of the Royal Ancient Lab

By Dr. J Kippers

(But please, Kippers was my father, call me Kip)

So heroes are a thing, huh? Who’da thunk it! One minute, I’m continuing my travels, studying some cool rocks and bricks in Hyrule Field. Then the next, a giant malice pig appears and fights some teenage boy wielding a glowing stick. I definitely wasn’t cowering behind the ruins of a garrison bathroom while that all happened, and I definitely was doing some cool badass fighting moves with my...pen, to help that knight and save the world and stuff. Makes for a pretty cool story, yeah? HA, Traysi would kill for it…

But enough of my daring, slightly exaggerated, exploits. It’s been a few weeks since the world’s settled down from the Calamity’s defeat, which means I had prime time to settle back into my hometown, and put my years of travel and research to paper!

I spent the majority of my life studying the history of Hyrule as it fell to the Calamity 100 years ago...and with the world now revitalizing, it’s just prime time to get myself out there! Research wise, that is!

At first, I didn’t really know what to write, cause WOW there’s just so many topics to choose from. Plus there’s a lot on the line here, gotta make a good impression for whatever new kingdom that Princess Zelda’s got planned. She seems the scholarly type, yeah? I’m thinking I could snag some Hyrule history teach’ position at a rebuilt university or something… Princess has got an awful lot of focus on the reconstruction of different village ruins. Which is fair, cause who better to know how to rebuild these places than the people who were alive to see them in their prime!

And you see, that’s where my journey of knowledge began! People with first hand knowledge of the events of distant past are alive? OH a historian’s dream…my soul swells in happiness. Plus, I also got my researcher brain a-tingling. My dad’s friend’s cousin’s neighbor’s grandma’s dog’s breeder knew Dr. Robbie back in the day, so Sheikah tech is basically in my blood.

With these passions rejuvenated I had my goal! Publish some revolutionary new theory that combined my awesome knowledge for history, archeology, and tech! And what better place to see that than, (duh) the Royal Ancient Lab Ruins.

Now, there doesn’t seem to be much in these ruins…it’s absolutely barren. No weapons or treasures to be seen. Just your run-of-the-mill ruined ruins, destroyed long ago by the Calamity. And that was the end of the story.

At least that’s what I thought until I did a little more digging. See, as I was doing some additional research, I stumbled upon this old history/research book stored in the Kakariko archive. I have no idea where it came from...it’s titled...C-Caa...Creation? Creating? Creating a...Cham...it’s kinda faded and hard to read. But anyhow, this weird little history book was written by some guy named “Nine-tendons.” If someone out there has a copy feel free to hit me up, but for today’s sake title and author don’t really matter. The point is, one of the quotes in that book describes the ruins like this:

Royal Ancient Lab Ruins

It is thought that these ruins represent the ancient relic research facility that was under the direct rule of Hyrule Castle, but only the outer walls remain. There is no trace of the building’s interior, let alone any research materials.

The thoroughness of its destruction feels intentional. [Page 396, Cr_ating a Champ___, Nint__do.]

Now I’m not too familiar with the work of whoever Mr. Nin-Ten-doves is, but I strangely trust their word on the topic wholeheartedly. Call it a feeling from the divine if you must, but they’re right! It seems so much more obvious in hindsight.

My adventures into the other various ruins across Hyrule always gave me something to work with. The world is just crafted for exploration. Old treasure chests, weird rocks with a tiny talking tree fairy underneath. Hell, even a monster or two was always happy to inhabit even the smallest of ruins I’ve entered. Yet, there is absolutely nothing of prominence to be seen at the ruins of the Royal Ancient Lab. And I’ve double, triple, and quintuple-checked!

Why are there no rusted weapons...or treasures...or any records or evidence of anything, other than some crude stone walls and a rock? That kind of destruction is just unnecessarily absolute, even for the Calamity.

According to detailed drawings/notes I have in my records of Historical Works during the Age of Calamity (HW AOC for short), the Royal Ancient Lab was nearly three stories tall, with a royal blue ceiling, complete with a basement level, and an upper telescope! With even the smallest of structures (like simple ranch and village ruins) still standing today with plenty of artifacts, why is as great a structure as the Royal Lab so desolate?

Intentional, intentional, intentional...that word ran through my head for days, weeks, months even. Why would the Royal Ancient Lab be destroyed intentionally? Did the Calamity see it as that major a threat? No, that wouldn’t make sense, the movements of Calamity Ganon that day clearly show his intention to use the Sheikah power against the people of Hyrule. An Ancient Lab would be a major benefit, if anything…

So, surprising as it may be, the current prime suspect for the destruction of this lab would actually be…

The Sheikah just glares. “Well...what gave it away?

He shrugged his shoulders with a half smile. “Deductive reasoning, with a hint of some good ol’ luck perhaps.”

“Listen, I know this looks bad, but you have to understand—”

“Oh I understand quite well alright.” The captain gives a wink. “I try to be humble, but Mama always did say I was the smartest cookie she knew.”

He rests the end of his spear on her collarbone, the threat clearly still present, but it gives him the freedom to pace and wipe rain for his soaked blonde hair.

“See I know that Calamity Ganon’s corrupted every bit of Sheikah tech from here to Lurelin. I know that he’s been targeting Hylian settlements. ‘Seen it myself when some monsters and Guardians destroyed my regiment and post at Maritta Exchange, just a bit north from here. I know that the only reason the other settlements, like the Rito and Zora, are still standing is because Ganon’s focusing all his forces on finding and killing the Hylian Champion and the princess. And finally I know that because of that, there is not a Guardian or monster around for many a mile. I mean, just lookie over there.”

The woman turns her head, and sure enough, the plains are barren of all life. No movement of machine or beast or person.

“And now my assumption was—and do pardon me if my monologue is redundant to your traitor ears—that the nearest place of safety would be this royal laboratory of technology. It’s Sheikah run, so it wouldn’t be immediately targeted. Plus the last thing the Calamity would want is for his personal army of destruction to be...well, destroyed. Ifs I was them evil cloud demon thing, I woulda wanted the lab with all my corrupted techno babble soldiers to be kept in peak condition. However…”

The captain turns to the right, staring at the blazing blue building in the distance. “...That does not seem to be the case.”

The Sheikah opens her mouth to speak, but he holds up the spear again. “Now I’m thinking, the only reason someone would go about destroying that lab, would perhaps be to kill some people, no?”

“We didn’t—”

“Getting rid of the people who could possibly reverse the Guardian corruption...now I suppose that might be a good evil plan.”

“It was for the be—”

“Ma’am I’m all about looking on the bright side of things, but,” the captain flicks his head in the direction of the blue, “This ain’t exactly the light a’ hope I was wanting.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“So,who are ya? Yiga?”

“No, it’s—”

“Solo treason then. You getting revenge on someone ‘round here? A noble? The King? Or perhaps you’re just the sadistic type with the whole—”

“NO!”

The outburst surprises the both of them, and he hold the spear to ner neck firmly. Another crack of thunder reminds them of the silence that’s endured. The Sheikah finally sighs.

“Perhaps by definition I am an arsonist and a traitor, but for one thing, I wasn’t alone.”

The man’s eyes shine curiously, but she continues.

“I will gladly die alongside them, as my actions have only been for the benefit of Hyrule.”

The rain’s tempo quickens as she gets on her feet, but the captain doesn’t strike. She stares him down, eyes hidden behind strands of white hair.

“My name is Atsuko, a devoted researcher at the Royal Lab, and you may kill me if you think it just.”

Ok, now I know what you’re all thinking. You’re thinking “Kip! Why are you writing this official research paper like some drunken bar rant? How the hell are you gonna get noticed at this rate?” or “Kip! The hell are you thinking?? Sheikah destroying the Ancient Lab makes absolutely no sense?!”

So to that I say, firstly, uhhh you’re welcome for not being a boring posh, snobby lecturer.(Learned to value a personality over fancy words; lessons my granddad).

As for the latter, you are quite wrong my dear friend, quite wrong indeed. It makes an absolute butt-load of sense, and I’m gonna prove it was them, here and now! I mean that’s...kinda the whole point of an essay, yeah?

My fellow archeology, history, and tech lovers, not only do I know who is responsible for the Royal Lab’s destruction, but I know the true reason why and how! Let us start at the beginning!

What exactly is the lab, and what was its purpose? Well, as the name implies, it was a Sheikah-run laboratory under the hand of the royal family that researched and experimented with Ancient technology. Again, looking at references in HW AOC, I can place not only Guardian models and Ancient weaponry at the lab, but also the existence of blue flame lamps that seemingly powered the facility.

As we all know, it’s tough to mess around with Ancient parts without blue flame, which is the prime energy source for the Ancient Sheikah. Such are the existence of today’s Hateno and Akkala tech labs, located near blue flame furnaces. However! This brings into question exactly why the Royal Lab was constructed where it was…

There are only three places in all of Hyrule with natural blue flame deposits, or otherwise called “Ancient Furnaces.” That would be in Hateno, Akkala, and within Hyrule Castle itself. So why is the Royal Tech Lab so far from these Ancient Furnaces?

To answer this question, might I direct your attention towards explosions. That’s right folks, I’m talking bombs! (Please take this moment to imagine me creating an accompanying explosive sound effect with my mouth)

Some time ago, as I was analyzing the blue flame lamps in Deep Akkala, I ran into that hero of legend face to face! Nice guy, quiet and charming type. Smelled strangely like apples and burnt guts.

Long story short, I traded my entire supply of Hot-Footed Frogs and arrows for a chance to mess with his Sheikah Slate for a bit.

So during that brief period of research, I discovered that while Sheikah tech is usually well controlled—with bomb runes only going off on command by the push of a button—there is an exception! Bomb runes instantly react with blue flame, just one touch and they’ll instantly explode! Try it out yourself! Er, well. Ok, maybe not. Don’t do that, legally I’m not responsible. Plus, it’s not like any of you folk out there have access to bomb runes or a Sheikah Slate that you can play around and test it out for yourself like it’s some virtual game that you can switch around in your hands.

Bomb runes are giant bundles of compact Sheikah tech. When in contact with a pure blue flame, they go boom. The process with the Sheikah Slate must simplify this process with a remote button, but as I’ve discovered, the process can be hastened by chucking a torch around.

I call this phenomenon of blue flame reacting destructively with Sheikah technology a “blue combustion!” I’m creative, I know.

I imagine, any experimentation with weapons that harness, compress, or just generally mess with Sheikah tech and lasers, must be conducted in an environment that prevents blue combustion. You don’t want pure blue flame touching stuff. Otherwise you go kaboom.

Now I couldn’t get a hold of Dr. Robbie or Director Purah myself, something about how they “don’t know who the heck” I am, and “you’re trespassing please get off it’s private property,” or something of the sort, I’m not really sure. But even without their testimonies, you’ll notice that their large tech labs are constructed a distance away from the actual Ancient Furnace. They aren’t right beside it. If they were, you risk losing a limb to a blue combustion. That is also why blue flame lamps exist: to stagger the distance between the flames. And thus is why the Royal Lab isn’t nearby an Ancient Furnace.

Yet even so, the distance the Royal Lab has from an Ancient Furnace might still stump you, because even compared to the Akkala and Hateno labs, it is very very far. But here’s the kicker, my dear curious readers and poor editor, the reason for this extreme distance is because during its prime, the Royal Ancient Lab housed a large portion of the Guardian army and weaponry. It needed more distance because its contents accumulated a much larger space. I can prove this not only by descriptions shown in HW AOC, but also by notes/drawings shown in the archive called the Backgrounds of Technological Wonders, or BOTW for short.

Both these sources show that while Guardians were tested and stationed in Hyrule Castle, the number of Guardians at the castle was probably only in the one hundred mark or less. Now that may seem like a lot, but remember, hundreds of Guardians were dug up, as especially shown in the famous Sheikah tapestry of 10,000 years ago. Arguably even thousands, considering that tapestry is a simplification.

So if we can only account for only a portion of the Guardian population at Hyrule Castle, where are the rest? Scattered across different garrisons perhaps, sure. But they’d mainly be in the facility where each of the Guardians were constructed and given power, the place full of the most talented Sheikah researchers, a location that would still be in decent proximity, but still a safe distance from the castle should an emergency arise: the Royal Ancient Tech Lab. That’s where most of Guardians are.

Now, why is this important? Why did I just spend a few paragraphs talking about blue flames and Guardians and locations when this is about the lab’s destruction and demise?

It’s because this is my sure fire way to prove to you that the Calamity did not destroy the Royal Lab.

The Royal Ancient Lab was constructed specifically to create the best Guardians and technology to beat the Calamity with.

It would have been constructed specifically to avoid any fatal blue combustion accidents.

And it sure as hell wouldn’t have been purposefully destroyed by the Calamity, the one entity who would benefit from its existence.

The lab was decimated by a blue combustion, no question. There isn’t anything as powerful as it that could destroy a place so completely. And now knowing the factors surrounding the lab itself, we know that if it was destroyed by a combustion, it was not because of an accident.

It could only have been done purposefully, by the only people who would know the Royal Lab’s weaknesses.

It could only have been brought down by the Sheikah researchers.

So now, the questions of exactly how and why remain.

The captain just stands and ponders.

“Ma’am, I must confess that I don’t find the science of the destruction nearly as interesting as exactly what made you decide to do it.”

“It’s like I said,” Atsuko clutches her burned arm, “It wasn’t just me. Really, now, you’re too kind to give me so much credit.”

The spear end moves closer to her neck. “Alright alright alright, sorry, pal. Look I have no idea if you’re even believing all this right now, but you have to trust me that our actions were of the best intentions.”

The captain smirks. “Do tell?”

According to BOTW, the Ancient Arrow was developed by Dr. Robbie as one of the most powerful means of combating the Calamity itself. In fact, according to research I’ve found in that CAC book by Mint-en-do, I can place the exact time for the development of this weapon, which I can use to glean information about it’s properties.

Ancient Arrow

Perhaps forty or fifty years after the day of the Great Calamity Robbie, the lead Guardian researcher, created the first weapon that was effective against the mechanical monsters: the ancient arrow... Flames come out from the burner like bit [of the Ancient Arrow] and form a blade. [Page 388 and 178, Cr_ating a Champ___, Nint__do.]

The arrow instantly vaporizes whatever it comes into contact with, tearing apart the subject by the molecule, and sending them to non-existence. The description of the weapon implies that it is the pure energy of a blue flame, and built quite differently than other Sheikah weapons.

And the difference definitely shows. I’ve handled a few of these puppies myself, and let me tell you, they get the job done. While an Ancient sword or axe will certainly do some damage, a single Ancient Arrow can take out a Guardian, or even a Lynel in one hit. I heard that they could even do major damage to Dark Beast Ganon itself!

Now, why do I bring this up? Because this Ancient Arrow proves that the Sheikah 100 years ago knew about the dangers of blue combustion.

An Ancient Arrow is clearly the result of intensive research into blue combustion, it is literally a pure blue flame on a stick pumped up with some Ancient Tech. It vaporizes whatever matter it touches and it ceases to exist.

Hmm...would be a fine explanation as to why the nearly three stories worth of stone and ceiling in the Royal Lab no longer can be found.

And why wasn’t the Ancient Arrow developed sooner? It’s because no one thought to purposefully cause an event that would destroy everything until they were forced to on the actual day of the Calamity. It’s because it took even the most brilliant of scientists half a century to even contain a feat of destruction into a single arrowtip? Yes...when you lay out the facts like that, it seems to make sense on the timeline.

Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the question of “why?” Let me rewind to an earlier point. Where are the thousands of Guardians in Hyrule?

Yes, a good hundred or so could be found in Hyrule Castle, and the majority were in the Royal Ancient Lab. But today, where are they? Records in BOTW cite only 157 Guardian remains in all of Hyrule. 157. How? That’s impossible. Witnesses and notes in HW AOC prove that much, much more existed. And what’s more is that we know that the majority of those Guardians were at the Royal Lab, but there are no Guardians, active or otherwise, to be found there. There is nothing.

It’s almost as if all those Guardians were vaporized, they ceased to exist one day.

And you know what.

They did.

(Please take this time to imagine me winking)

There’s some theme or metaphor here about the Royal Ancient Lab, constructed in the blues of the Royal family, ironically being destroyed by the blue combustion—but what do I look like, a writer? Find your own secret to life, here’s the blunt of it.

The Sheikah knew about the dangers a blue combustion could do, but on the day of the Calamity, they used that knowledge for the better. Seeing the corrupted Guardians in the distant castle, it is my belief that the researchers there purposefully brought the blue flames—that they had so carefully separated outside in the lanterns—in contact with Ancient Technology. Things not only went kaboom, but the actual matter ceased to exist. A giant Ancient Arrow.

Thousands of Guardians, hundreds of blades and weapons, and honestly, probably even lives, were gone in an instant. The only remains of the carnage would be the aftermath of blue flames that spread across the remains of the outer walls.

The Sheikah did this because it would save the most lives. That’s hundreds and thousands of Guardians and machines that wouldn’t fall into Ganon’s clutches, hundreds of souls saved. Did you know that today Hyrule Ridge, the home of the Royal Lab, has zero Guardians? Did you know that the lands near it, Hebra and Tabantha, have the lowest Guardian sightings in all of Hyrule? Even less than the Gerudo Desert. And I cite this all based on my hours of research and facts laid out by BOTW, HW AOC, and the divine work by Mr. Nin-ten-do

But even beyond that, how do I know, in absolute 600% certainty that the Sheikah were in complete control of this destruction? How am I so sure that the Sheikah that day had fully planned the intentional obliviation of their lab?

It’s because...I lied earlier.

There is actually one relic that survived. One little monument of the Royal Ancient Lab Ruins. One object giving physical proof of this theory.

One artifact that would have been impossible to preserve if the Sheikah hadn’t planned it all. I mentioned it briefly before, if you paid attention. Yes! This object is present in both the Royal Lab, and a tech lab of today. You could see it for yourself, if you pay a visit to my dad’s friend’s cousin’s neighbor’s grandma’s dog’s breeder’s Sheikah researcher pal...

“Dr. Robbie’s telescope.” Atsuko pointed to the scattered trees in upper Lindor, “Some other scientists took it up there to preserve it. It’s the only reason we were able to see the initial Guardian corrupting in the distant castle, and how we were able to adapt to the situation and act so quickly.”

The captain glanced at the western mountain. “So you were running up there to meet with them?”

“The wilderness is pretty safe at the moment. And we’re hoping eventually we could take the telescope to another lab where we could possibly continue research. I mean just today from the combustion, Dr. Robbie had this idea for some fancy Sheikah dagger to kill Guardians.”

Silence.

“OK listen, that’s...that’s all I’ve got. You can head up there and confirm the story, or just kill me now, take your pick. Waiting for judgement here.”

More silence. The rain falls harder.

“...I’m—”

“You can call me Cian.” The captain does a little bow. “Captain Cian Kippers, at your leisure.”

Atsuko raises an eyebrow. “Like the color—?”

“Sp-Spelled differently! There’s an “i” in there, and perhaps it’s ironic to the situation, but I figured if we’re gonna be traveling up there together you should have the courtesy of knowing my name.”

She just sputters for a moment. “So...you—”

“I trust your heart—I like to think I’m good with character—and I believe you’re a good person doing your best in the world. As unfortunate as circumstances may have been.” He twirls his spear before fitting it on his back. Cian extends a hand to her which she takes. “People like that are getting rarer by the hour, so I don’t think I should be adding to the death count.”

“So…” she gets on her feet, cocking her head, “You...you believe me then?”

He chuckles. “Well, I didn’t kill you did I?”

Atsuko laughs quietly. “Your mistake…”

“...No.” Cian places a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiles, as if to say that somehow everything was gonna be alright.

“My intention.”

#Memorabilia zine #botw zine #botw theory #botw fanfiction #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw

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spectrumed · 3 years ago

Text

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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Worshipers of the Stars

Part of the Worshipers Series

➜ Words: 9.4k

➜ Genres: 90% Angst, 10% Fluff, God!AU

➜ Summary: The universe was created with four gods to rule and watch over it. But when you take the crown and become the god of all gods, what the future holds is something you never wanted to know.

The universe was once created by a woman who was awoken by her lonesome — a miracle in itself. It was an explosion that happened suddenly when all the things were slotted in the right places at the right time, a one in a billion chance encounter. But it happened and she was the first of her kind to open her eyes. She had awareness and recognition of the empty oblivion in front of her, so in an attempt to lessen her loneliness, she created a home — a sanctuary that could watch over all other places, a Heaven. And in that Heaven, she created the gods to keep her company and care for the things she made once she passes. First, she made Seokjin, God of the Sun. “That’s me!” the god exclaims with cherub cheeks and bright eyes, stirring in the woman’s arms as she reads from her large storybook. “That’s right,” she confirms with a matronly smile that exudes warmth in itself. “The one who helps nourish the living realm, who helps count the days that pass so that no one takes it for granted, that spreads the light for all to see. Also the one who is mischievous and likes to make trouble when no one’s watching.” “I don’t make that much trouble,” the child whines with a pout, making the woman laugh heartily. “Shush, Jin! Let her keep reading the story!” “Fine.” The woman continues on as her children gather closer together. “Then, the woman created Miyin, the Goddess of Dreams, to ensure her children would be able to rest well when they could, so they would not have to be restless and could have a place of peace in the chaos of the universe.” The girl in question giggles when her name is mentioned, blushing from the attention bestowed upon her. The Creator softly smiles and affectionately brushes the long strands of her dark hair away from her face before she continues reading. “With her and to help light the night when The God of Sun is asleep and unable to protect those below, the God of the Moon, Yoongi was born. He who sheds light in the darkness, to help lead those astray back to their homes…” She turns to the boy sitting across from her, a quiet expression but thoughtful underneath those cat-like eyes, and her smile only grows. “What next? What next?!” Miyin rushes, unable to handle the suspense despite having heard this same story for years now. “Be patient,” you murmur. “Then, the most important god was created.” Her voice drops into a whisper, “Y/N, Goddess of Light and Life. The source of the God of Sun and Moon’s power. The force that makes the Goddess of Dreams’ dreams come alive. The mirror of the creator, the Ruler of all Rulers, the God of all. She would someday create more gods and help the world become a prettier, better place.” This was your favourite part of the story. You loved to see the painted pictures on your page and know that you get to protect everyone else. It was an important job, one that you’re excited for, but Jin would say that it was your favourite part because it talked about you…. And that’s only a little true. “Together, the four of them would be trusted to rule. They would live forever to look after the universe that was created by the woman who was no longer so lonely…” “Live forever?” Seokjin pipes up, probably because he knows the story is ending and is trying to buy more time so he doesn’t have to sleep. Jin lolls his head back to your shoulder, looking up at the woman with the fond gaze. “Won’t that get boring?” “Well, you’ll be reborn every once in a while, so you can start fresh and learn the meaning of what time is. Being able to die makes you learn what death is. And being reborn means you won’t take things for granted. Everyone must die someday, even I have to. Gods are no exception.” “Then...when will we die?” you ask, blinking up at her. “Not for a very long time,” she assures in a murmur, caressing your hair. Then she exhales and sits up straighter. “Alright, time for bed everyone! Everyone has to sleep too! No time like the present!” “Awww,” Miyin whimpers and pouts. “Do I have to?! I’m not even tired!” “Someday, you will wish you get to sleep as much as you do now.” The Creator peels back the covers of the bed as the sky becomes darkened, sun long fallen from the horizon — something Jin does each day before story time. “What about Yoongi?” Miyin continues to sulk despite getting in right in the middle of you and Seokjin, three lumps inside the wool blanket and against the pillows. “He just woke up! That’s not fair!” “He has to sleep too. Just at a different time,” she says gently and Miyin relents. The Creator kisses the top of all your heads, wishing you a good night and she walks hand-in-hand with Yoongi, leaving the room and shutting the door. Despite Miyin’s protests, she’s snoring within the next minute. While Seokjin tries to resist the urge of slumber with you, afraid that Miyin will mess with his dreams again and make him lift a bright pink sun, he, too, soon succumbs to the urge. You, on the other hand, are still wide awake. Your eyes pin out the glass windows and terrace doors, watching the silver moon slowly lift up and how its milky luminescence billows into the room. It lights up the entire world in the darkness. If there was something that you liked more than your part in the storybook, it was the moon. Quietly, you crawl out of the covers, away from Seokjin and Miyin who don’t even stir. Once your feet touch the soft carpet of the bedroom, you’re already creeping outside, shutting the door silently. As you swiftly run along, your shadow follows you along the corridor walls. You know where he is, where he sits as he keeps the moon on the horizon. He could always leave, do other things like Jin does once the sun is already risen, but Yoongi once told you that there was nothing to do in the middle of the night, so that’s why he just sits in one spot, staring and waiting.... You sneak around the pillars of the palace, feet cold on the terrace floors, but you peek around the corner to see Yoongi bathed in the soft light. He’s glowing, skin luminous and shining. It’s moments like these you’re amazed at how pretty he is. Or what’s the word that the Creator once used? That word she used to describe the four of you…..beautiful. You’re unable to stare at Yoongi for long. Not when a little moth lands on your nose. It’s tiny, brown wings flapping and fluttering, tickling against your skin as if it were trying to kiss you. And you giggle, watching it float around your head and unable to be caught no matter how many times you jump and try to catch the creature in your hands— “You’re supposed to be in bed.” There’s a low timbre that vibrates in your ear and a grin spreads into your face. Oops. You’ve been caught. “Are you going to tell on me?” You approach with your arms behind your back, knowing full well that Yoongi would never. Seokjin and Miyin would be happy to get you in trouble, but never Yoongi. “I just wanted to keep you company. You’re lonely, right?” “No, I’m not,” he murmurs and looks away. You plop down beside him on the cold tile floor, shoulders and knees brushing, and you look out at the moon together. It made you sad that you don’t get to play with Yoongi much. The only times you get to see him are two hours after dawn and two hours after dusk — right before he goes to bed and right after he’s woken up and it’s your turn to sleep. You wish you got to spend more time with Yoongi or was awake when he was. Sometimes you wonder if he’s sad that everyone else is asleep. You’d be sad if you were him, if you didn’t have Jin or Miyin with you. Yoongi might be quieter than they are, but you like him more. You like him the best. “It’s pretty,” you whisper as you stare at the light with the pretty patterns, putting your head on his shoulder and feeling a bit sleepy. The corner of Yoongi’s mouth pulls into a smile. “It’s because of you.” “That’s not true. I need you to lift it. That’s the only way I can make it shine. Without you, there would be no moon, Yoongi.” It’s the moon that you could look at — it doesn’t burn your eyes like the sun does. The moon is simpler, quieter than the blazing sunlight — but you think it deserves just as much recognition, if not more. And it’s a little different every time you look at it. You love the moon. You love Yoongi. “You do?” he asks after you tell him all the things you love about the moon, leaving out the last little part about loving him. You told Miyin, Jin and the Creator you love them all the time. You’ve even told Yoongi before. But somehow, telling Yoongi when it’s just you and him here feels a bit different. “Yeah! The sun’s always the same and it hurts to look at.” You quickly add, “Don’t tell Jin that.” Yoongi giggles and turns to look at you resting on his shoulder. “I can change it, if you’d like.” Your eyes widen, head lifting and the Child of the Moon blinks several times towards the horizon. Suddenly, the giant sphere in front of you shifts and morphs. The luminescence is almost blinding and the moonlight wash alters, becoming golden rather than milky and pale. You gasp, sitting straight, wide awake again. “It looks like the sun now!” A giant, gummy grin spreads into Yoongi’s face and he laughs at the way your jaw has dropped in amazement. In front of the two of you, the moon shines even brighter. It sparkles in the night. // The life you’ve lived so far is short — especially if the Creator tells you that you’re going to be reborn forever. And apparently forever is a really long time. But right now, you’re really happy to know what you’re supposed to do in this chaotic universe. You’ve learnt that there are so many things, so many people you want to protect and it makes you’re glad that you have the power to. That one day you’re going to watch over everyone else. When that time comes, you’re going to make sure no one hurts Jin or Miyin or Yoongi. You’ll do your best. “And that’s all that’s important,” the Creator tells you as the two of you walk alongside each other down the hall. Her robes sweep the floor and you wonder if one day you will be as pretty and liked. “Someday you will rule all of Heaven and the universe and guide the other gods into a beautiful world.” “You will also create many more gods and goddesses,” she hums. “Perhaps a Goddess of the Sky.” Your brows furrow and your lips become lopsided. “What’s a sky?” “Why, a place where Seokjin can truly shine and help the people that will be below.” The woman smiles as her mind begins to conjure up new ideas, and you wonder if someday you will be able to be as creative as she is. “Perhaps a God for the Seasons, so the Earth may prosper, change, and alter to keep them from being bored. We should also give them more water too, so they have a way to quench their thirst. And maybe a God of the Underworld, so once people pass, they have a place of peace to stay at.” She sighs wistfully. “There are many gods yet to be created. Too little time for me.” You look up at her, feeling scared at the thought of her gone. “What happens when I don’t know what to do or who to make?” “You will know,” she tells you with such assurance. It comforts your worries and eases your fear. “When the time comes, you will know. And Seokjin, Miyin and Yoongi will always be at your side to help.” “Always?” “Always.” She smiles and stops, crouching down to delicately push a strand of hair behind your ear. “Someday, Miyin will accompany your side. Your right hand will be Seokjin, and Yoongi will be your husband. It is my plan and I plan to never leave you by your lonesome as I had been.” At your young age, you don’t truly understand what each word means, but you can comprehend the feeling of warmth she conveys. A smile spreads into your face and you nod. Right then and there, there is a sharp call of your name. You whirl your head over to see the three of them at the end of the hall, Seokjin waving you over with Miyin calling you again to come play with them. Yoongi stands by them, wearing the brightest of grins and it makes the inside of your chest tickle. You glance over your shoulder and the Creator gestures the permission you need to run off. She watches with a smile as the four of you sprint, giggles filling the spaces of Heaven. Her optimism and certainty of a beautiful world relieves the burden of her own worries. She feels at peace, knowing that you will take care of her creations.

When the world was built, four gods were made with it. They were contrived to watch over the lands and protect one another, and for the first two decades of their first lifetime, the universe was truly wonderful. It was simple, happiness spreading across the world with the innocence of the gods untainted. They had yet to learn about greed and pride, wrath and envy. Yet it was not a golden age — not when many gods were yet to be born, when Heaven was still empty and merely a foundation of what it was to become. But it was paradise. A dreamland. Only, dreams never lasted long.

There had been a shift, a change. One you knew you didn’t feel alone. The sunlight dimmed and then the moon was lifting, covering it completely — something you would one day learn to know as a solar eclipse. But it was the first time in history that the horizon was blackened during day, where you felt the light within you tremble and the universe bled with darkness. The fabric of the world was being swept from underneath you, consciousness vibrating around your mind. Time was finally running out. “What’s going on?!” Miyin’s footsteps quicken down the hall, her robes hanging loose from her frame and fluttering behind her. There was a thin ring of light from outside, an outline of where the sun wasn’t covered by the moon, but it barely provided any light. “It’s happening,” you tell her, forming an orb of light within your hands and flicking them towards the candles on the walls. They flare and gleam, dimmer than you’ve ever seen. “Get Yoongi and Seokjin.” “I’m already here.” The husky voice you’ve been waiting for sounds behind you and you find the young god already striding over with a firm gaze. His orbs are glazed over in the colour of obsidian, fluffy strands contrasting against his sharp features, cat-like eyes staring back at yours. His black robes swish behind him along with your servant girl at his heels, fear taking hold of her expression. “I didn’t lift the moon,” he says. You nod. “I know.” The two of you immediately turn down the hall towards the largest room while Miyin sprints in the other direction to call Seokjin. You dismiss the young servant girl and she takes a bow, staying behind when this was a matter pertaining to the gods alone. Once you push the doors open, you find the Creator lying in her bed. The covers are pushed to her waist as she lays with her head on her pillow, eyes barely open. Immediately, you rush to her side and grab hold of her hand. “You are unwell.” “I have been unwell for a while, child,” she wheezes with heavy breath, clasping your hand back in a weak grasp. Yet, the corner of her mouth still lifts. Her hair had gotten gray, colour lost in her features, wrinkles lined around her face. In your naiveté, you had not paid attention to these things, not when it was so gradual. “My ti..me is end...ing….” “There must be something we can do.” The doors slam open and the room fills with immediate warmth. But Seokjin’s hair isn’t as vibrantly gold as what you’re used to seeing. It doesn’t glisten and his pink lips are losing its hue. “There has to be something you can do,” Seokjin declares in distress as Miyin quickly follows behind him and shuts the doors. “You are the Goddess of Light and Life—” “I know what I am,” you snap back at him. “You need not remind me.” “Is there something you can do?” A calm voice cuts through the panic and you find Yoongi seated next to the Creator, placing a hand on her shoulder to perhaps comfort her. “I can feel her life force leaving her. I might be able to gather it and contain it with her being again, but I don’t know how much time that’ll give.” “It’s still better than nothing,” Miyin cries out, but then suddenly the Creator shakes her head and the four of you quiet down to listen to her croaking murmurs. “N...o...don’t do that and don’t argue.” Miyin sobs, her tears streaking down her face. “But—” “Death is inevitable. I provide nothing for you now and if I lived another day, I would provide nothing then. My time….is over.” She looks over to each of you gathered around her, the gods she had manifested carefully and a soft smile graces her features. “You are all grown and ….will...survive….this world will...prosper...I feel comforted over that.” Her chest heaves and she gasps shallowly. “Y/N’s...coronation will happen tomorrow—” “No,” you spit, unable to bear the thought of ruling over Heaven immediately after her death without mourning beforehand. “I can’t do something like that.” “You will,” she whispers in reassurance. “You will do as I say. Heaven...cannot be without a ruler….and Yoongi…” “Yes?” He comes closer as her gaze flickers over to him. “You will marry...Y/N...Seokjin will become the...right hand...and Miyin by her side….it is my plan,” she says, the dying wish put on her lips — one she had spoken about many times. But you know this is the last. The Goddess of Dreams beside you begins to sob harder, Seokjin looking away and unable to bear the moment. Yoongi remains in his place and your hand on her tightens, feeling her life fading. The Creator smiles for the final time. “I...harbour no...regrets…” You can see it — her soul is white. It shimmers, brighter than what you’ve ever witnessed before. More so than the sun itself or what you’ve ever manifested in your hands. It fills the room, blinding your eyes and you know you’re the only one who can see it. It floats as choked sobs break through your throat, her hand slipping out of yours. Around you, Seokjin’s warmth ceases, Yoongi’s skin doesn’t shine and Miyin’s wailing becomes deafening. Then her soul fades above her body. You don’t try to grab it — don’t try anything that was against her last will. You watch as it dissolves, vanishing after a moment like it was never there. Suddenly, a force brushes against your cheeks, kissing through your hair and robes, like a breeze manifested from nowhere. It swells throughout the universe. Seokjin’s warmth returns, his hair golden once more and lips pink. Yoongi’s skin shines again and the moon on the horizon falls, allowing the sunlight to spread across the lands once more. Your own strength restores itself, but what you’re still left with is devastation and grief. Miyin sobs within her hands. Yoongi slumps and Seokjin cries with you. It will never be the same again — and that knowledge lay heavy on your shoulders. // The sun has fallen early today, an hour or so, and you cannot blame Seokjin. But that meant Yoongi had to lift the moon over the horizon earlier. You stare out your glass window to find the moon smaller than usual, dimmer than what you’ve always known to be a bright glow. Perhaps some nights, the moon might not be needed outside — it will have to be something you discuss with Yoongi after your coronation tomorrow. “Your Highness, be at ease. The Creator always said she was happy,” your servant says as she gently brushes through your hair at the vanity. She is pretty, long hair and soft smile, even with her eyes and nose reddened from crying. She has been at your side for years now, to aid you in small matters, but she has always proven helpful and her sincerity is touching. Despite being innocent and young, her tender nurturing reminds you of the Creator. “Yes, she did.” You manage a smile, finding appreciation in her attempts to console you. “Don’t worry. I won’t grieve for long. There are many things that need to be done and I out of all the gods must remain strong. I must protect them now.” You stand on your feet and she follows you, helping you untuck the covers of your bed. “Are you worried about your coronation tomorrow?” she asks in a murmur. You hesitate, not sure if honesty is warranted. But you decide not to confide in her. You must remain steadfast and firm. You are to become the god of all gods, rulers of all rulers. There should not be a weakness within you. The foundation of the world lies in your hands and you must be strong if you are to allow this universe to prosper. “Nonsense. This is my purpose. My responsibility. Why would I fear something that I was created for.” She nods and bows her head once you’ve gotten settled. “You are wise and courageous, Your Highness. Forgive me for suggesting otherwise. Is there anything else you would like from me?” You are about to dismiss her, but then your eyes stray out the windows. There is a pull within you, a childlike urge to go see Yoongi and keep him company. But you are exhausted, grieving, and unlike your words, you do not have the strength to find him. Yet, you cannot bear the thought of Yoongi being alone on the cold terrace. “Please, go see the God of the Moon. Make sure….he is well. Keep him company.” “I understand.” She dips her head again, a promise to obey your word. Then you are left in silence, succumbing to a moment of peace through slumber with the terror of what it means to wear the crown of Heaven. And in your sleep, you are ignorant to how the moon begins to glimmer moments later and becomes that much brighter. // The preparations are finished. It was faster than you had thought was possible and now the moment has arrived. The servants and advisors are gathered in the throne room, waiting patiently for your arrival. But you linger at the entrance, unable to garner the courage that is needed to step forward. “You look stunning.” You turn around, grabbing fistfuls of your golden and white layered robes that ruffle out with sparkles that catch the sunlight high on the horizon. Your hair is fixed into place by tens of pins at the back of your hair, but still spilled over into curls. “I look better than usual, don’t I?” “You don’t look bad on the usual day.” Yoongi smiles softly, sleepiness hinted in his features. He’s dressed in black robes that fades into a milky shade at the hem that reminds you of the moon’s luminescence itself. His black hair is ruffled, shagging over his forehead. As dignified as the two of you look, it’s still a bittersweet moment knowing that this attire is only worn on such an occasion. You grin, lifting your arms with much effort. The sleeves drag with every movement. “It’s heavy.” “The ceremony won’t last long,” he promises and his voice quiets, expression becoming more solemn. “Are you nervous?” “Why would I be?” Your chin lifts and your back straightens. “I’m the Great Goddess of Light and Life. This is my sole purpose and all I’ve ever wanted.” But instead of the respect that you expect to gain, Yoongi is visibly amused. He’s silent and you quirk a brow until he finally murmurs— “You know you don’t have to lie to me.” Part of you wants to object to his claim. A Goddess like you doesn’t need to make up lies to feign bravery, but he knows you too well for you to scrape by with yet another fib. The pair of you have been together your entire lives after all. So you concede, allowing him into your mind. “None of us have had time to grieve yet. I…..don’t know what to do, Yoongi.” “I don’t know how to guide and protect everyone and rule this place. The Creator had a plan for us, but I don’t know how to follow through with it.” You turn around, unable to bear looking at his expression if it will be one of disappointment. Of all gods, you were the one who was supposed to know what to do next. You are what everyone looks to. But you are utterly lost. “You will.” A tender hand squeezes comfortingly at your shoulder and you twirl around to meet Yoongi’s earnest gaze searching yours. “We’ll be there with you, Y/N. Seokjin, Miyin and I. You aren’t alone.” “I know.” If there was one thing you were glad for, it was the fact that you aren’t by yourself and Yoongi being here at this moment was proof of that. “Thank you.” You take his arm and the God of the Moon guides you to the throne room. The two of you walk together and when the servants catch sight of you, they dip their heads and open the doors. The room is decorated for celebration, golden ribbons wrapping the marble pillars and the carpet beneath your feet rolled out. The servants are gathered together, reverent in their posture while the advisor of the late Creator, an old dwarf, is in the middle. Seokjin smiles, standing on the right side of the throne in his own golden robes and his hands folded together. Miyin is to the left, the corner of her reddened lips gently quirked at the sight of you and her brother. Rather than the rowdiness that filled the palace when the four of you were still children, the ceremony is silent, many faces watching and staring at you. You keep your head held high, eyes pinned forward, breath steady in your chest. This is what you’ve practiced for, what your sole purpose is. It is your right and your responsibility. You will serve and protect until the end of eternity itself. This universe will prosper till its dawn. Yoongi lets you go once you’ve made it to the end of the path and he moves beside his sister while you kneel. All the other servants follow suit, bowing as you are. It will be the only time a god ever kneels. “Goddess of Light and Life, mirror of the Creator who stitched this universe together and created the Sun and the Moon. Y/N, the very source of our birth and warmth, you have come today to accept the throne, to become the god among all gods, the queen among all queens, ruler of all rulers. You will protect everything beneath and above Heaven, and watch over the sinners and blessed. Do you swear to take this oath?” “I swear.” The old dwarf continues reading from the scroll. “Will you solemnly promise to never abandon your people and to the utmost of your power maintain the strength and foundation of Heaven?” “I solemnly promise to do so.” “Then with this power, you will be blessed with the gifts of clairvoyance and precognition,” he reads. It is the last present the Creator has given to you, one you had not expected. “You will take these endowments to become the carrier of all knowledge, to know past, present, and future. You will know all, what has become and what will become. Do you vow to take this and use the knowledge for your best judgment in the protection of all living creations?” “I vow to do so.” “Then stand and accept your place in this chaotic universe.” You rise to your feet, glancing at Yoongi who smiles warmly. A breath leaves your lungs and you approach the throne, swiftly turning and brushing out your robes. You take a seat and grasp the armrests — the chair is colder than you expected, but you don’t dwell. You’re close. One second more and the ceremony will be over. The aged dwarf approaches with the crown, dainty and golden. It is simple, but brightly shimmers like the sunlight yet somehow softly glows like the moonlight too. He smiles and you take it from his hands to place on your own head. And the moment it lays there, when the metal finds its place on top of your crown, the crowd erupt into cheers and song, rejoicing for their benevolent leader. But you do not hear them. Your eyes become blinded. Your breath hitches. The gifts of clairvoyance and precognition strikes you, rendering you breathless. Fire. You can see fire, hear the shrieks of mortals crying out for their families and loved ones. It is deafening — the screams of men beseeching mercy, only to be slaughtered, the sobbing of children who have their mothers assaulted in front of them. It is overwhelming. The intense smell of iron, the scent of blood. The burnt land that you stand in, the homes reduced to ash, the gray clouds covering the sun and sky and bring upon the darkness you cannot dispel away. “No, please, let me go!” — “Stop!” — “Mommy! Where are you?!” You see a boy’s head decapitated, another relishing in the death. A baby that cries until it’s silenced when a spear punctures through them. Lovers ripped apart and mutilated. The wonderful world you have sworn to protect — the green grass and flowers, rivers and rolling hills, the laughter and giggles. It doesn’t exist. You have failed. And there is nothing that can change it. The world is on fire. You see more flashes — within one millisecond, you have known past, present, and future. You see a paradise of smiles and warmth. But you also see an empty Heaven, a desolate place that has become darkened with gods who have abandoned their people. You see the people at peace and prosperity, but also see ruin and cruelty, those who are vicious without remorse. And you see an explosion. A man’s irises glazed over in the colour of obsidian, his skin bathed in the milky moonlight and making him glow. Specks of shimmer all around him as he wears an expression of guilt and pity that aches your heart. You cry aloud. Seokjin, Yoongi and Miyin at once turn at the sound and they witness you fall off your throne. // There’s a roaring crash. The servant girl pulls herself away from the God of the Moon once she hears the commotion, her eyes swimming with surprise and worry. The god is also alarmed and the two of them don’t hesitate to rush down the hall, pushing your doors open. “Y-Your Majesty!” Your servant cries out, running towards you, but you shove her away and she winces when the back of her head slams against the wall. Yoongi grabs hold of her, making sure she is uninjured, and you pay no mind to the pair of them. Objects on your vanity are shoved to the floor with the sweep of your arms, the chair thrown over on the ground, your bedroom is wrecked as you pull on the curtains. “Don’t touch me!” you scream wildly at the top of your lungs. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” “Get out!” you repeat when they remain there, blood-curdling at the back of your throat. You never once look at Yoongi in the eyes. Fire. Destruction. Crashing and burning. “What’s going on?!” A stern voice calls out at the ruckus. Miyin stands at the doorway motionlessly, eyes laying on how you’re losing your mind and she watches in horror. An explosion. Splotches in the night horizon that glitter and gleam. A love never returned. The Goddess of Dreams approaches within three strides, swiftly moving past her brother. Her expression is rigid and authoritative, but her embrace is gentle when she takes you in her arms. You protest, whimpering and sputtering, but Miyin never lets you go and with one squeeze, a mesmerizing incantation leaving her lips, you are falling asleep in her arms, rescued from your own madness. It goes quiet and she turns around, distress evident in her features. “Call Seokjin.” // They are murmuring silently as you are fast asleep in your bed, but you are not ignorant to their conversation when you know past, present, and future. Your current unconsciousness is merely a fleeting sanctuary, a place of temporary peace in the land of dreams that Miyin has stitched together. “I saw it.” Miyin muffles her sobbing behind her hand. “I saw her dreams and they were — awful. Atrocious. I….” “And these are visions of the future?” Seokjin asks, concern taking hold of him. “I don’t know.” The Goddess of Dreams shrugs hopelessly. “They might be.” “Then what did you see?” the God of Sun persists, both curious and anxious. She shakes her head. “Fire. Screaming. A—And people dying….I can’t….” Yoongi puts his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “You don’t have to say anymore.” He looks towards Seokjin. “We have more pressing issues than whatever may happen in the future.” “We need to know if this...destruction can be prevented or if it’s inevitable.” “How can you still concern yourself with that?!” Miyin’s voice is shrill, distressed. “When Y/N is going mad, the future is what your worries are about?” “Without Y/N, Heaven will fall before the destruction even comes,” he says, glancing at you in deep slumber. “It’s still forming. New gods are being created. We can’t put Y/N to sleep at every moment.” “Then what do we do?” She asks the two gods, at a complete loss. It’s clear that you are being tormented and she doesn’t know how to help. But suddenly a thought comes across her mind and she turns to her brother. “Talk to her, Yoongi,” Miyin pleads, knowing full well that you have always been closest to him. “She’s always listened to you.” “She hasn’t spoken a word to me since her coronation,” he reveals in a murmur, making the other two even more troubled at the change. It goes silent. The gods are helpless. // Their efforts are futile — akin to a tree that provides shade during a violent thunderstorm or a single blanket given during a vicious blizzard. The comfortings given do little for you, not when they are ignorant and you are cursed with this knowledge. Words do not solve wars, they only prevent them. And you cannot prevent what is to come. But there are still things you must say before time becomes too late — before you completely succumb to hysteria, so you gather yourself with your last remnants of sanity. And the door opens before Miyin can knock on it. You knew she was coming. You were waiting for her. “Good morning, Your Majesty.” The Goddess smiles at the sight of you up and about, but you can tell it is forced. The friend she has made long ago is different from the god she sees in front of her. “I wanted to ask if—” “You don’t need to tread carefully with me, Miyin.” Her parted lips close and you shut the door after she enters. “Your room is still a mess,” she quips with a smile, perhaps to lighten the tension lingering in the atmosphere that is suffocating. “Do you need me to call the servant later?” “No. I do not want to see her.” You take your seat, motioning for her to do the same. “You don’t need to preface yourself, Miyin. You came to speak to me, so do so without your hesitation.” The Goddess of Dreams swallows hard and takes your hand. “I cannot say I understand what you are going through, but I have seen it. I have seen your dreams and I have seen the horrors the universe will be put through. But there is nothing that you, Seokjin, Yoongi and I can’t overcome” “There are many things,” you murmur. “You just don’t know them yet.” “Then tell us about it and we….we will shoulder your burdens.” “If I told you, that would only bring forth more devastation. Trying to prevent the inevitable only causes the repercussions to be stronger.” “Surely there is nothing out of the power of the Goddess of Light and Life, of the God of Sun, of the God of Moon, of the Goddess of Dreams. We are meant to rule over all—” You withdraw your hand away from her, diverting your vision elsewhere. “I let you in here not for you to console me, Miyin, but for me to warn you.” “Warn me?” She is taken aback, eyes widened. “We are sisters, not my blood but by bond, so I owe you at least this much. The Creator had spoken about forging a God where those humans can lay to rest.” Your words are a prophecy, one she takes for granted. “He will come to exist someday soon. Human souls cannot wander the land forever, they must have a place to rest, but it will cost your happiness.” “Let him be born.” A tiny smile graces her features, gaze sympathetic and not at all terrified. But you already knew this would be her reaction. She’s oblivious to what will come. If she knew, she would not be so courageous. “I will survive.” “He will damn you into eternal darkness.” “Then let him,” Miyin says. “If this was the Creator’s plans, then I will follow.” “None of this was her plan,” you bitterly mutter. “She didn’t know the future, not like I do. If she did….she would’ve never made any of this. She would’ve made it all vanish with her death.” “Y/N….” “Even if I tried to avoid it, it will happen. I am helpless. As are you.” You look into her eyes. “This is my warning to you.” “I am not afraid,” Miyin tells you sternly. “Even if you tell me an unborn god will bring darkness upon me, I will not live in fear. No god should ever live in fear.” You remain silent. It makes her distressed, knowing her words have little effect. But you know that righteousness and pride will only serve the purpose of the inevitable destruction. // The God of Sun is childish, playful, and argumentative. He sulks and whines, doesn’t like to share and is haughty over petty matters. Seokjin retains his youth and a lighthearted demeanor that others are unsure if they can take sincerely. The golden-haired man in his extravagant robes enjoys making mischief, finds amusement in using his wit to underhand others, but it is never out of malice as it is for his entertainment. Out of the four of you, it seemed like Seokjin has grown up the least. Yet, you know now that underneath his immature and childlike disposition is marble yet to be sculpted. Jin is perceptive and the underestimation of others only serves to his advantage. His greed to maintain the glory of Heaven will someday be the strength to uphold it. He is intelligent, especially because he does not flaunt it and would prefer to use narcissism to hide intentions. Seokjin is many things, but he is not foolish. You come to him before he seeks you out. “Yoongi will be upset if you make the sun fall sooner than it is supposed to.” “Y/N.” He whirls around, coy smile playing at his features. Of all entities, Jin was the only one who did not treat you any differently. It reminds you of a time long ago when you did not wear the crown, when you did not know what you do now. A time of ignorance you impossibly wish you could return to. “But of course, you know that. You won’t be the one waking him up after all. You’ll call a servant.” “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed resting?” he asks, halting the movement of his hands that was bringing the sun down. “I thought I would save you the walk of having to come to me. Miyin has insisted that you spoke to me, correct?” Seokjin grins boyishly. “You really are the all knowing god now, aren’t you?” The nonchalance is a front. You know Seokjin worries silently, that his doubts lie between his sentences. He is merely persuading you to be at ease rather than confronting you directly about his numerous questions. He consoles you through indifference, as if nothing has changed. “To know isn’t to understand, Seokjin. I wouldn’t wish this upon you or anyone. You should never want to be an all knowing god.” His lips fall into a straight line and he approaches with his arms behind him, the sun piercing through his backside. The light shines but it is hardly warm. “What will happen to Heaven, Y/N?” “It will recover as all things do, but not without facing calamity and making sacrifices.” “And what will happen to you?” he asks in a softer tone, brows furrowing. “It doesn’t matter.” “Tell me what happens, Y/N.” The God of Sun’s voice is firm and demanding. “Miyin told us that there was fire and destruction. It’s a war, isn’t it? Between the mortals? Where are the gods then? Tell me everything that you know.” “If I tell you, Heaven will never find prosperity. There will never be a golden age. Not only will the mortals cease to exist, but the gods will no longer have their place in this universe.” You shake your head. “I cannot tell you what you truly want to know.” “How can that be? We are the Great Gods of this world. Nothing….nothing could destroy us.” You gaze at him, your eyes connected. You’re aware that he knows — that beneath the nonsensical dignity, it is possible. It’s possible that Heaven will be saved. “You would make a better ruler than I would,” you murmur, much to his astonishment. “Someday, you will become very wise and mature.” “I do not wish to be the ruler,” Seokjin says immediately and his face scrunches, finding the thought of responsibilities burdensome and distasteful. For the first time in a while, the corner of your mouth quirks. You reach out to him, sleeves falling back until your palms cradle his cheeks. Your touch is tender and you guide him forward until your foreheads are pressed together. Your eyes flutter shut. “With my name known, allow your soul to take this blessing of mine.” It is a symbolic gesture, one made with endearment that you both know well after the Creator has given you many blessings during her lifetime. After you draw away from him, Jin gazes at you. “What did you bless me with?” “The stars.” His plump lips become lopsided, brows knitting together into a frown. “What are the stars?” “They are suns, like you, but farther away. Glimmering specks that fill the night to keep the moon company. They cannot be reached or touched, but they can still watch over you, always.” “They sound beautiful,” he murmurs, entranced. “Will they be your first creation?” “Yes.” You look towards the sky. “They will be.” // The moon hangs in the sky, shedding light in the darkness to help lead those astray back to their homes. The silver colour lights up the entire world that is blanketed in darkness. You know you’re foolish for still cherishing this sight, for savouring this temporary serenity. But still, you wrap your arms around you and step out onto the cold terrace to bathe in the soft light. A moth with tiny, brown wings descends towards you. It flaps and flutters, tickling against your skin before floating around, right out of reach. You watch for a moment and then you feel his presence behind you. If you turned around, you would see him glow in his milky moonlight. He would be ethereal with his soft and sleepy features, ruffled black hair. His eyes would stare back into yours and you would come to realize again just how beautiful Yoongi is. But you are too scared to face him. “Don’t come.” Yoongi stops. He comes to a stand still. You don’t turn around, merely allowing a sigh to leave your lips. “Will I ever be able to look at the moon without you coming to me? Or better yet….perhaps it would be better if some nights there were no moon at all.” “Why have you been pushing me away?” His husky timbre cuts through the air, a question that you have too many answers to, but ones you never wanted to say. Still, you know what the future holds. You know you’ll have to say it, to provide him the explanation that will end up burdening him forevermore. So you shut your eyes and brace yourself, gathering the courage to turn around to face the god who has long owned your heart. “You don’t love me.” Yoongi is taken aback, eyes pierced into yours. His mouth parts, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. You already know. “You will never love me. You’ve given your affection to my servant girl and you are a fool for it, Yoongi. She will not be reborn. She will only live with you for a blink in the lifetimes we have left, but you have chosen her.” The God of the Moon does not utter a word. He is unable to deny these accusations. “But even with her gone, you will never love me while for the rest of eternity, I will.” You can see past, present, future — a responsibility you must bear. But of all the devastation you have witnessed, of all the pain you have felt, what still hurts most is knowing that your feelings for Yoongi will never be returned. The moment you were crowned and the gifts were given to you, you saw your eternity in an instant. The knowledge came barrelling at you without remorse, striking your very being. You have seen your fate and his. From this lifetime to the next — now and in twenty millenniums, even if Yoongi marries you and becomes your husband, he will see you as a companion. He will see you as a friend. And you will always want him as a lover. You will never have all of Yoongi no matter how much you wish. No matter how powerful you become. No matter what title you hold. You are eternally lonely. A mirror of the lonely Creator, but unable to fill the void that collapses your soul. You will have Yoongi’s presence, but never his mind and soul. “I still care about you.” His tone is low, calm and collected. “You are important to me, Y/N. You always will be.” “But it will never be enough!” The god doesn’t know what to say. He simply wears an expression of guilt and pity that aches your heart, one you have seen in visions, one you have grown to detest. And tears begin to shed down your cheeks. The droplets are golden lights, shimmering like beads of liquid gold or fireflies falling. They are not as bright as the moon but more numerous and they drip onto the terrace, lighting up the night. The words hiss out of you, ugly and revolting. “I will never be enough for you.” “Y/N….” Yoongi calls out and approaches. “It would be better if no one knew the future,” your voice booms across the land, wrapping around the God of the Moon, your betrothed, and your unrequited love. “It would be better if no one knew like I knew.” Your skin gleams brightly, glittering like the sunlight and glowing like the moon. The wind suddenly brushes through Yoongi’s hair and the sheer force pulls him back from getting to you. “Y/N!” You gaze at him with softened eyes, relishing in this sight. Your voice ricochets throughout the universe. “Stay on the moon, Yoongi. Be in solitude. Feel the loneliness that I would have felt for an eternity that never ends.” The man’s irises are glazed over in the colour of obsidian, his skin bathed in the milky moonlight and making him glow. You stare at him and then to the darkened horizon, knowing the days that are yet to come, the years of misery and where the world will turn to ruin, the helplessness that will drive you insane. And you succumb to weakness. The lights seem to spill from inside of you. It pierces through your skin. It tears it apart. It overflows at the seams. “Y/N!” Yoongi screams in terror and a smile lifts on your features. You are not Y/N, the Goddess of Light and Life, ruler of all rulers, god of all gods. You are Y/N, the Goddess of Stars and Loneliness. “Please,” the god begs, head shaking, hands trembling — he is the God of Moon you will always adore and keep close to your heart. “Don’t go.” “Let me go,” you murmur gently and begin disintegrating into specks of lights that shimmer all around him. Yoongi falls onto his knees, grasping at the small particles to no avail. Seokjin and Miyin run out from inside, awoken by the shaking of the ground, by the stirring they feel inside of them. But they can’t look at you. The night is seared with light as if the sun itself had risen. “Take the crown, Seokjin.” You smile at him and look towards the sky, taking the gifts of clairvoyance and precognition with you to spare those from the future. Your power of life begins to bleed into the world as well, morphing into a natural force. “I do not wish to be reborn.” “Y/N!” The God of Sun shields his eyes away. The Goddess of Dreams is sobbing, trying to reach you. And Yoongi stays in his spot motionlessly, on his knees, ignoring the pain of your radiant aura. His eyes connect to yours and you smile at him before imploding into a million lights. Yoongi watches as the lights float upwards, becoming splotches in the night horizon that glitter and gleam.

[Present Day] He looks up at the sky — it’s a clear night where he can see the infinite void of darkness and wonder. But while the inky canopy is an endless abyss, it is decorated with tiny freckles of sparkles. The longer he stares, the more that appears. They are twinkling pinpricks of light in the sky, some golden and others silver. They cannot be reached or touched, but always watch over the rest of the universe. The stars accompany the moon, so that it isn’t so lonely. The man with dark hair and obsidian eyes leans against the terrace railings of his empty palace. His pupils connect the constellations together, drawing lines between them to see the shapes. But then a little moth serves as his distraction. It’s a tiny thing with brown wings flapping and fluttering. It floats in front of him and he watches before extending his arms to capture the creature in his hand. But then the God of the Moon uncurls his fingers, letting it go. “What do the stars say today?” A familiar voice sounds behind him, one he has known for eleven lifetimes now. A smooth timbre that has made many decisions and spoken to many great beings. Seokjin joins his side, looking out at the sky with a small smile. His question is still unanswered, but it is not uncommon for the God of Sun to ask him about this. After all, in the entire universe, Yoongi has become the best at reading the stars. “The constellations are shifting. There will be challenges ahead.” Yoongi continues, “The stars are always melancholic. History doesn’t repeat but it rhymes. There will always be pain and suffering.” “But there is also hope.” Seokjin stares at his old friend’s profile, lips graced with a small smile. “And the sun always rises after the night.” There have been many changes since the birth of the four original gods. More gods have come about and the mortals have multiplied even more so. The world is still chaotic — the fire and destruction you had spoken about, like a prophecy, had been fulfilled. The calamity was indeed brought upon Heaven but it had survived. He’s not sure how long peace will be kept, but Yoongi has learnt that it is within the moment that matters most. The two of them have gotten old, or at least it feels that way. But Yoongi is glad he is able to be reborn and refresh himself, allowing sorrow and wrath to fade away in cycles. And while you have become a distant memory for him after nearly a millennium, Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever forget about you. Not the way you used to hold his hand when you kept him company on nights he brought the moon out. Not the way you always took to his side. Not the warmth that you gave to him. Yoongi lets the guilt sit upon his shoulders. The bittersweet memories of you keep him grounded. “Do you think she’s watching us?” “Yeah.” Seokjin sighs wistfully. “I do.” The corners of his mouth quirk. “She must think we’re still idiots, huh?” The warm god chuckles, hands behind his back. “Probably. I don’t think she’s ever stopped watching over us, Yoongi.” The two gods smile, bantering back and forth noisily. It’s the loudest Yoongi’s palace ever gets considering the God of Sun is always rowdy and boisterous. He often ruins the calm atmosphere that the God of the Moon creates, but the occasional company isn’t undesired. It reminds Yoongi of the olden days, during simpler times. Except they have become more mature and wise, just like you have said. Seokjin yawns, stretching his arms over his head. He bids farewell and turns to return to his extravagant palace. But Yoongi stops him before he can vanish back to Heaven. “Do you think...she knows?” Yoongi asks while staring out at the stars, wondering if you know about his regret. His remorse, about how he still cares, about how he remembers you the most out of the three of them that are left. The God of Sun smiles. “I do.” Yoongi is left at his lonesome, gazing at the constellations. The moth floats and flutters in front of him. After a moment, it lies on his cheek as if it were giving a soft kiss and then it flies away into the bright night.

#bts fanfic #bts angst #bts scenario #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction

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pyrewriter · 3 years ago

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Short Medical leave

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Eliksni name pronunciation: Sovrreik (Sov-rr-ike)

Uncle was ecstatic to see that we had not only made it through the night but managed to save all those that would have otherwise been left to their fate. The Dregs who assisted me in the trench were to be promoted for valiance as well as their display of loyalty and ability. Similarly to how my brother and I these Dregs would skip the rank of Wretch but they would not yet be vandals, moving directly to Marauders was a significant honor nonetheless. Ogethres had been thinking of rewarding them and my report gave him more than enough to use as justification. The fellow Vandal would not become a Captain but would be honored for their role in assisting defend the wounded.

Deliberately I did not mention the Wretch who had earlier attempted to strike a defeated Risen's tiny machine. During the flight back in the Skiffs of a morning crew they approached me and expressed their regret, I scolded them but felt that was enough. There was no sign of deception in their words ,if there was they could not hide it from me, so reporting would be demeaning. I left them with wisdom uncle once told me once "An enemy defeated, be watched, but left well alone".

Uncle sent me to the infirmary just to be sure that I was not internally injured from prolonged combat. The medical staff asked me to lay down so they could properly examine me but when I tried my body refused to relax fully. While I was checked over I couldn't help but chuckle at the hilarity of how I most likely looked like one the old stone likenesses of humans often found in city remnants. Once the medical machines came up as normal the medics told me to avoid combat for a while just to make sure I wasn't on the brink of collapsing.

Normally I would have simply thanked them for their care and advice before charging headlong into the next mission but I decided to listen to our medical experts for once. Fortunately there was always more than enough work that needed to be done, with my engineering skills I favored more hand on jobs. Sometimes younger Dregs that had heard of or seen my work in the field would murmur in curious clicks whenever I would dive for maintenance on submerged areas of our home. I always thought it sobering for the younger in the guild and humbling for myself as it kept me from discounting the effort of others or believing myself greater because of my station.

Brykis had similar sentiments but if one were to ask him he would tell them that he simply didn't like the thought of his brother being left out. I would often find him helping process collected salvage or teaching fresh Vandals how to use and maintain their equipment. Father Pyrrhaks was always busy with political squabbles as our uncle Ogethres trusted few others with such delicate responsibilities but they rather enjoyed more menial tasks. Often in luling times both Ogethres and Pyrrhaks would wear simple robes and chat casually or help with small unofficial tasks around the coast.

A few days into our off time ,before Brykis or myself had even fully woken, our door opened, uncle's unhelmed face greeted us with a smile. "Come, relax today, little responsibility, Pyrrhaks join soon" he said nodding for us to follow him once we were dressed. During our medically required break, uncle seemed to realize just how long it had been since all five of us had been present at one time at the coast with little to keep us busy. Brother left first after wrapping himself in more relaxed cloth than our usual armor, I was still feeding on my morning Ether from Sekos-4 after wrapping myself. When I followed Brykis father was already with them so I was last but with all of us gathered now uncle revealed his intent.

"Long time since had much free-time, wanted to spend with family" he clicked with almost excited vigor, I smiled beneath my wraps and chuckled slightly. In my many years of life I had heard many recounts of the ferocity of Arkons, their amazing strength, how Risen struggled with an all but unguarded priest reclaimed from the Prison of Elders. All these stories are true yet they never tell of their lives off the battlefield or how they were as leaders. Sometimes I wondered if they were anything like uncle but from what I know of the times before House Dusk I doubted it.

Following Ogethres we waved and warmly said hello to those we passed as we walked, the casual nature of our guild on full display. I've heard from wandering gangs and our usual traders that we are strange because of our lax attitude with a thriving gathering of Eliksni so close to the Great Machine. Whenever they remarked on such things I always compared us to when our people first met humanity, perhaps weak at a glance behind our walls but every maw hides teeth. Often such words would get me sideways looks and in truth I couldn't blame them, it was a human saying.

Uncle had walked us down near one the end of the wall that bordered our home where it met the waters edge. It was a rather quiet area while still having line of sight across everything to the opposite end of the wall. There were a small number of Dregs and Vandals milling about moving aquatic animals of all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors that they had caught. Ogethres called with a loud clack that got the attention of a more round looking Captain who raised an arm in greeting before lumbering over to us.

"Greetings my Arkon, how been, long time no talk" she clicked with a flemish voice.

Ogethres waved a hand "Been well, busy and well, apologies for little talk, much happened" he chuckled "should know, you part of that".

"Bahg, so much movement, difficult move so much so quickly, thankful for you, Ogethres my Arkon" the Captain replied with clear gratitude in her voice. Bowing her head she turned with a wave for us to follow as she showed us a spot among other workers casually chatting or humming tunes. "Four sets, as requested, told other to treat same as any" the Captain listed, adding with a chuckle under her breath "Hehe, can't stop all though" she joked

"Your effort enough, thank you friend, Great Machine bless" Ogethres told them with a low chitter and a hand over his heart. Pyrrhaks, Brykis, and myself bowed our heads slightly and rasped in thanks for the Captains effort to coalesce as well as allowing us to use their equipment for recreation. The Captain echoed the blessing before heading off to direct idle dregs to what needed to be cleaned or stuffed with coolant. "Come, let us 'fish' as it is called" uncle stated as he strode across the sand toward a set of poles with string dangling from them. I recognized such poles from movies I had stored in Sekos-4.

All four of us were absolutely terrible at using the poles which led one of us ,often uncle, getting a sharp metal hook caught on themselves. Despite this however we continued to learn both through trial and error as well as tips from fellow Eliksni around us fishing around us. Once everyone was able to get their hooks into the water with relative consistency we were fishing as a family, it felt nice, a calm that I hadn't known for quite some time. We caught a fair amount of aquatic life but nothing astonishing, patience, luck, and knowledge were what made one good at catching water dwelling creatures.

Time felt like it slipped by while we sat enjoying the presence of each other and before we realized it the sun was setting over the horizon. We had managed to spend an entire day sitting in the sand with poles in hand to help feed hatchlings and sprog. Thankfully nothing that couldn't be handled by those uncle left in charge appeared during our time on the edge of the wall. While the rest of my family went off to rest or double check the feeds for anything that slipped through I went to fulfill my nightly duties. Slipping into my work harness I chuckled at myself ,it was a completely peaceful day for our guild, still I worked through the night consuming only enough Ether to not deprive myself.

The next morning I found myself being woken by an engineering Dreg, apparently I had blacked out with my legs dangling from an access hatch. Laughing at their description of how they found me ,"Similar Arkon threw you during accession, right in hole", I thanked the Dreg before heading to my quarter. Luckily I had been awoken before most others so no one knew that I never made it back after they bedded down. Brykis did wonder what I was doing up so soon as I fumbled around trying to get my standard armor on.

"On Ether crew, morning deploy" I told him, it was no lie, I did sign on to be escort for an Ether extraction at the earliest signs of day.

He shook his head while rubbing a set of eyes with one hand "Doctor told no exertion, you against better judge?" he asked pointedly.

"Extracted before, same spot, quiet, go stretch legs, take light load" I reassured him grabbing only my dagger "Worry much, brother". Taking a moment to pay tribute to Esyra before leaving I set off to meet the other members of what would be my crew in the hangar to be told the details of our mission. During the brief I learned we were taking our Prime Servitor ,Sovrreik, which explained the larger than normal present crew. Ogethres thought it best to keep them within the safety of the ketch ever since the Risen had discovered our underground compound before.

I found it odd that we were taking the prime servitor but before I could raise the question as to why we were taking such an important figure I got my answer. "Risen damage collection servitors, as see, taking extra guard, collected sector before, near coast, safe, pack light" the leading Captain clicked tossing aside a data pad. Most were fairly new Vandals but they had enough experience with combat that I was unconcerned about any wildlife we may encounter. Boarding our Skiffs and hovering as we waited for Sovrreik.

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#destiny #eliksni #fallen #eliksni fanfic #Ellrimksyt #Chapter 10

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blackypanther9 · 4 years ago

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Part 22 - Oh Shit...We won...

Your POV....

I was in the air and killed the most Chitauri I could. I fought and attacked and killed. I was trained and skilled to do that. Suddenly I got shot, from behind.

"GAH !!"

I fell down to the ground. A hard landing but I still live. I stood up.

"Hey Lucie, are you okay ?", Tony asked me worried, over a communication device in my ear.

"I just got shot, from behind in my left lung.", I replied.

"Don't die ! I am coming !", he screamed.

"No. Continue fighting. I am fine."

"Are you kidding ? You got shot in an organ of yours ! Let Tony help you.", Steve said.

"I can heal myself I just need time. Continue fighting. I will survive it."

"Okay. But if you lied to us, we're gonna kick your ass.", Tony warned.

I laughed. After 10 more seconds I was healed and started to fight again. I looked at the portal and saw something big coming out of it.

"....Oh shit....", I said.

"We see it too. That thing is big as fuck...", Clint said.

"Holy shit of Odin. I am dead now.", I mumbled.

I flew in the air and killed some more Chitauri.

"Where are you guys ?", I asked.

"We are at the Grand Central Station, right infront of the building.", Steve answered.

"And I am in the air over New York at the big ugly thing.", Tony answered.

"Okay. And where is Thor ?", I asked.

"He is fighting Loki.", Natasha informed me.

"Okay. Steve I am coming to you. I see some trouble coming towards you.", I warned.

"Okay.", he responded.

I flew in their direction. I needed to dodge the flying Chitauri. I saw Loki infront of them.

"Didn't you guys tell me, like 10 seconds ago, that Thor is fighting Loki ? He just flew past me !", I yelled.

"They were fighting...", Natasha corrected.

"Well, fucking great !"

"Don't come here. Play with Stark in the air. We play on the ground.", Steve told.

"Fine !", I yelled annoyed.

We had an very interesting fight...for 15 fricking minutes... After this time Banner finally showed up.

"Tony, Banner is here.", Steve said.

"Good then tell him to suit up. I am bringing the party to you.", he replied.

"Dusk, how are you doing ?", Steve asked me.

"Doing fine...I think. I have a little too much work here... I need to kill Chitauri and save many people out of buildings...without dying...", I informed.

"You will do this. We have a party here soon.", Clint said.

"I rather have the party, than this...WAIT WHAT ?! You have a party and I have to work my ass off ?! NOT FAIR !!", I said sacastically.

"You hate us now...do you ?", Stark asked me.

"Nope. I am not the person for parties anyway.", I said.

10 Citauri surounded me now. I kicked one of the Chitauri in the nuts and the other in the chest. The others did all at the same time. I flew up and they crashed together. I summoned black flames in my hands and threw it at them. They all screamed while they burned. But I felt a little weak, now. I need to change with someone...soon.

"Guys...I need to warn you. Please warn Thor too. I won't be myself in a few minutes anymore. I will talk different, have another mood and maybe look different. Don't worry about it and don't worry about me. It's someone of me. Don't kill me. Not even hurt me. I swear I am no threat.", I informed them.

"Okay.", Steve and the others said.

'Listen Ratchel...don't attack or even try to find Loki. Kill the Chitauri and save the others, please. They need more help than we need to kick Loki's sorry ass. And after that, set me conscious again. '- You

'.....Fine. At least I can kill something with joy.'- Ratchel

'Great. I let you out now.'- You

Everything around me went black and I was unconscious. Better I was in my black void with the others.

Ratchel's POV....

As I saw the city around me in chaos, I was shocked. Everywhere, where I looked, was chaos. I saw the Chitauri running at me and I called a dagger which can also be a sword. If I press a button, while it's a dagger, it changes into a sword and the other way is the same. 6 of them were coming. I pressed the button and ran at them too. I changed my appearence to my actual body. I looked almost the same as Dest. Just the eye-, skin- and haircolour was different. (Chose on your own how she looks like.) I killed the six and suddenly all the Chitauri screamed.

"What's going on here ?!", I screamed.

"We killed one of the big Chitauri things...", Tony answered.

"Oh great...", I mumbled.

I stared up at the portal and saw more of them coming out.

"Oh Shit....", I mumbled.

Then I saw the big things.

"Oh fucking shit.", I cursed under my breath.

Then I remembered that we were outnumbered and these things have Loki as leader.

"Oh holy fucking shit....", I cursed again.

And then I remembered that it was war, we will die, Loki is an ass, we are probably wounded and exhausted and we don't have a useful army.

"Oh holy bloody fucking shit...", I mumbled again.

All the Chitauri on the ground attacked me now. I dodged and killed the first 3 with a slit open throat, the next 5 with cut away arms, the next 9 with an open stomach and the last 15 with a stab in their heads. I looked around and saw no people anywhere. Not even with my roentgen stare. I flew back to the others. They seemed fine and I searched Hulk. I found Hulk after 6 minutes.

"Hulk !", I called.

He turned around.

"I need your help to smash someone.", I said smiling.

"You friend of Lucie ?", he asked me.

"Yes I am a friend of hers."

"What you want Hulk do ?"

"You hate Loki right ?"

He nodded.

"Jump on him on Stark Tower. He will be there in 5 minutes.", I said.

"And Hulk then does what ?"

"You do what you can best. Smash him into the ground 5 or so times. Then leave him there and fight outside again. Show him no mercy."

He nodded again and smiled.

"But don't kill him, Hulk ! I still need his sorry ass ! Alive !", I screamed after him.

I took a short cut to the tower and hid in the shadows...well better said I made myself invisible. And after 2 minutes I saw with my eyes exactly what happened. Loki tried to shot the flying...something, where Natasha was on, down.

youtube

(Too lazy to write and it's funnier if you see it, or more painful, cause you like Loki.)

Wow...that must've hurt...Welp ! I love Hulk. I have problems to hold my laugh right now...This reaction of Loki...like he forgot that he got Hulk smashed in the basis once. Well, maybe he wasn't that hard the first time. That event must be traumatizing. How he lays there and stares in shock...I can't hold it anymore. I teleported away and laughed like an idiot. I made the others see it too. Heiko laughed too. But Mimi and Destiny didn't. Destiny flinched and Mimi looked away. Sheesh... I got back to work. I suddenly heard Natasha say...

"I can close the portal."

"Then do it.", Steve said.

"No.", Tony said.

I wondered why, but I turned the communicator off. I had other things to do, like stopping the other Chitauri from exiting the portal. And then- Oh.... What the hell is this ? A bomb ? What is that what Tony has there.... I looked closer. Nope no idea...

'What's that thing Tony carries ?'- Ratchel

'It's a missile. It can destroy maybe the whole city.'- You

'Oh...shit...'- Ratchel

I stared at Tony. He overpowered his thrusters and pushed the missile with himself through the portal. They were there and after maybe 5 minutes there was a sound of an exposion. We waited 40 more seconds for Stark. I saw Natasha then closing the portal and in the last second Tony fell out. All the Chitauri were dead. Better deactivated. I teleported to the others and saw Hulk catching Tony. Thor riped off the metal mask and Tony had closed eyes. No...

"Oh Shit....", I cursed loud.

They turned around and raised their weapons.

"Hey, hey ! I am Ratchel. Lucie told you she wouldn't be herself, right ? I am the other one. I am here in peace.", I said.

They all put the weapons down again. Hulk screamed angry and suddenly Tony awoke. I jumped and was happy he was still alive.

"What the hell ?", Tony asked shocked.

Thor smiled a little smile.

"What just happened ? Please tell me nobody kissed me.", Tony said.

Steve and I answered him then.

"We won."

Tony sighed relieved.

"Alright yay ! Hurray. Good job guys."

"We're not finished yet.", I said.

They all looked at me.

'Come out again, it's over.'- Ratchel

'Alright.'- You

And around me was all black.

Your POV....

I opened my eyes. They all still stared at me.

"We need to get Loki. Before he is able to run away.", I said.

"Well then...lets go.", Tony said.

"And then we take a day off and maybe go to try Shawarma.", Tony added.

"Fine by me, now lets go.", I replied.

After 10 minutes we were there and we saw Loki crawling to the stairs to sit down. He must be exhausted. He groaned by every painful move he made. After he stopped and wanted to sit down he noticed our presence. He slowly turned around and stared at the others. I was behind them, hidden. Nobody noticed.

"If it's all the same to you, ugh, I'll have that drink now.", he said.

He looked at them with almost asking for mercy eyes. And turned fully to us around.

Thor turned to me.

"So...you were the whole time here, Dusk ?", he asked smiling.

"Yeah...", I scratched the back of my head, "I knew Loki would appear here, but not like that...."

Thor nodded.

"Luciella ?", Loki asked.

"Shut up Loki. I don't think we need to talk now.", I said coldly.

"I just wanted to apologize."

"I know Loki, but...that won't help you now. You killed, kidnapped and hurt people here. A simple apology won't undo it. And about everything else before...too."

Loki was quiet.

"So you weren't lying with you and Reindeer Games, being best friends ?", Tony asked.

"No. We were best friends. In our childhood he was for 2 years and then after 352 years he was still my friend, but now...I am not sure anymore...", I answered.

I summoned chains with cuffs and cuffed Loki. He stared at me with eyes, that showed that he was still broken as hell, maybe even more and I still saw my best friend there. Trapped in a cell, which is slowly faiding away. I gave him a cold stare. He looked away. I stood up again and turned to Tony.

"Can I use a glass and fill water in it, for the chained princess, before she whines ?", I asked.

"Sure. I have nothing against it.", Tony replied.

I nodded, went to the bar, took a glass and went off. After 5 minutes I came back with a glass of water. I went to Loki and took a sip infront of him.

"I didn't poison it, like you see. Take it, drink it, be happy and shut up.", I said.

I took his right hand and pressed it into his hand. He looked at me, then at the glass and took a sip. And then another.

"Break one of these 4 rules in the next 10 minutes and I will set the poison in the water free.", I warned him.

His eyes widened and he spit it out. I laughed.

"As soon as it touched your lips, you can't get rid of it. It will not work anymore in the next 10 minutes. Within it, the poison just waits until I set it free. Are the 10 minutes over, it disappears."

Loki stared at me in shock.

"Drink the rest, or I set it free.", I told him.

He quickly drank the whole glass empty. I reached out my hand, he gave it to me, silently. I lifted my right hand and petted his head and hair softly.

"Good boy. You are such a good God.", I said with a small smile.

He looked at me. I slapped him across the face, starting at his right cheek, he didn't say anything.

"That was for New York, worrying me, not listening to me at the Bifrost and hurting me.", I told him.

He looked at me again. I grabbed his chin, moved it slowly but forcefully to the left and kissed his right, now red cheek.

"And that for being alive.", I told him.

Part 23

Masterlist with all Chapters of this Story click here !

#Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Marvel #Thor #Loki x Reader

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago

Text

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 11: THE NIGHT BEFORE (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Awashima bowed deeply into the command car parked in front of the Gakuenjima bridge.

"I'm sorry. Not only did I let the 'Red King' escape, but I also made this happen... it's all my responsibility."

"The expression on your face accepting such humiliation is not all bad."

Before Awashima seriously apologized, Munakata joined his hands and said that with a serious face.

"Captain."

"Feeling responsible for not being able to stop the 'Red King' is a sign of considerable arrogance."

The apology became an advance and she turned her eyes to guilt, but Awashima lowered her eyes again without saying anything to return to the lines of Munakata.

"Yes."

Awashima received it mysteriously, understanding that it was not an unstoppable mistake, but a reckless attempt to stop him.

Munakata stood up silently and left the command vehicle without further pursuit or mention.

"Still, it was troublesome."

Awashima also got out of the command car following Munakata and stayed a bit behind. Munakata looked towards Gakuenjima in cloudy weather. The panic that might have happened there couldn't be seen from here, and the island beyond the connecting bridge was silent in the middle of the sea.

But now that island is in danger of ending even this country.

Munakata opened his mouth with a sharper light in his eyes.

"The 'Red King' Mikoto Suoh occupies the school island. The purpose remains..."

"Capture Totsuka Tatara's killer."

"That's right... But if that person was another 'King', it would be really annoying."

"You mean the 'Colorless King'?"

Before Awashima, who said that with a firm expression, Munakata continued speaking.

"Unlike other kings, the Seventh King, the 'Colorless King', develops his own unique abilities with each substitution of him. You won't know what he looks like until he appears."

"A trickster who stirs up relations between 'kings'. He's like a joker in a deck of cards."

"Awashima-kun, I hate the joker. That smells like deception... I feel like he lacks justice. Especially when he's out of my hands."

Awashima was a bit surprised to see that he was blatantly thinking that it would be fair if he had the joker. However, even though she thinks he's pretty badass, she doesn't think he's wrong.

Munakata sighed a bit frustratingly, which was unusual for him.

"Well, it would be much easier if he remained secluded in the mountains like his predecessor Ichigen Miwa."

"An unpredictable 'Colorless King' is added to the 'Red King', which is equivalent to a bomb on the verge of detonation. I must say that this situation is extremely dangerous."

"Because we have not been able to capture the existence of the 'Colorless King', we have no choice but to hold down the 'Red King'. A full-scale collision with the Red Clan is inevitable."

By confirming the seriousness of the current situation, she was prepared. Awashima turns to Munakata, lines up her legs and stretches her spine.

"All units are ready for battle. You can give the order whenever you want."

Munakata looked back at Awashima after a brief pause.

"Awashima-kun. Can I make a rather selfish request?"

Awashima was surprised by the sound of the word "selfish" that came out of Munakata's mouth. Before Awashima asked the content of the expression "selfishness", it was not an order, instruction or request, a white thing fluttered next to Munakata's face.

Munakata and Awashima looked at the sky together.

From the heavy cloudy sky, the white shards began to flicker like petals.

"Snow."

Munakata muttered like a soliloquy.

++++++++++

The amount of snow that began to fall at dusk increased and piled up as if to cover the colors of the world.

Suoh was lying on the clock tower that he had knocked down, whether it started to snow or at night.

When he lay on his back on the rocky shore of the clock tower and looked up at the night sky where the snow continued to fall, he felt that the world had become two colors, black and white. The snow that touched his skin quickly melted and disappeared, but the snow that had accumulated on his clothes and hair was thickening on the board.

From the bottom, he heard small footsteps and the sound of chunks of rocky shore falling.

Suoh didn't move and was listening to the approaching noise.

However, he heard the sound of the rocky shore collapsing and reached out. What he grabbed with his left hand was Anna's hood.

"What are you doing?"

Suoh puts Anna's small body, which he clutched like a kitten, next to him and asks.

Anna blinked on the spot and looked at Suoh with a serious face.

"Because the snow piled up on Mikoto."

"What with that?"

"I'm in trouble if I can't see the color red."

Anna complained, looking very serious.

Suoh thought of the world through her eyes, which only reflected red, for a moment, but he couldn't quite imagine it, so he stopped immediately. Instead, he slightly released the power of red and the heat melted and evaporated the snow from his body.

The white snow that covered Suoh disappeared and Anna loosened her eyes a little.

"Mikoto's red is the most beautiful."

Anna said. It was like trying to give something important. Since Anna has few words, she seems like she puts an invisible power in every single word she says.

Anna lay down next to Suoh. When he reached out, she obediently put her small head on Suoh's upper arm.

"It's cold?"

"It's warm next to you. This is the only warm place."

Snuggled into Suoh's chest like a small animal, Anna closed her eyes silently.

Suoh silently looked at Anna, who closed her eyes as if she was at ease.

When he thinks about it, Anna has rarely asked Suoh for anything. The only thing she asked for was (I want Mikoto's red).

Maybe it was just that moment when she wanted to be a member of Suoh's clan.

Suoh finally heard the wish. He shared the flame with Anna and gave her what she called "red" to make her a member of his clan. He knew it was not the same as doing it to street boys in search of power, but he offered his hand on fire as she wanted.

Since then, Anna has been with Suoh. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't ask anything, she just snuggles with Suoh, she stares at Suoh's red and squints in satisfaction. Even now, even though she can see ahead of anyone, she remains silent next to Suoh.

When he was in the "Scepter 4" detention center, he remembered that Fushimi had come to see him only once. He doesn't know if it was a sweetheart-type action that he used to have in "Homura", or if he just wanted to complain, he came to the front of Suoh's cell, where no one but the members could approach him, and he threw up a few sentences, though he was strangely scared.

(Are you playing the fool?)

Unexpectedly, he thought he was a polite and serious guy.

(I wish I hadn't gathered around you with all your friends.)

He disagreed with anyone because it seemed dishonest to everyone, but he thought it was good to have someone blame him like that.

Furthermore, that revived the words of an irresponsible man who said the exact opposite of Fushimi.

(Your power is not to destroy, but to protect.)

At the very least, he made a dome-shaped shield releasing the red power with a small outlet, feeling like this. The little red shelter was warm and protected Anna from falling snow and chills.

When the falling snow approached the shield, it reflected the light and turned red, and he vaguely thought that he must smoke.

++++++++++

Yata continued to look around the large school, as he skated on the roofs of the school building.

That criminal boy has yet to be found. Yata was appointed an entire island watchdog due to his mobility and good eyesight, but the job of just looking was frustrating.

Beyond the connecting bridge, "Scepter 4" is waiting. If they attack quickly, they will withdraw it, but they just line up a series of strict armored vehicles and observe this situation, and they do not move easily.

(I wonder if he will always come.)

He thought about it, and it didn't matter! He shook his head immediately.

Fiuuu fiuuu. He heard the sound of a finger whistling from a distance. Seeing that, Yata felt slightly offended. He thought he should use the PDA, and thought about ignoring it for a moment, but in the end he dutifully kicked the concrete on the rooftop and flew between the school buildings with his skateboard.

"What are you doing? I'm not a dog, so I'd like you to stop calling me that."

Upon landing, Yata sighed and looked at Kusanagi. Kusanagi, who was still in the whistling stance, laughed fearlessly.

"You are not a dog, I thought you were a crow with great night vision. What did you observe?"

"There is nothing unusual on the island. There were some idiots trying to escape, but they weren't that damn bastard, so I tied them up and threw them into the school building. Passing the bridge, it seems the Blues have the area completely surrounded."

Kusanagi took out the cigarette and it was probably troublesome to use his lighter, so he moved his finger to make his own flame appear from his fingertips and set it on fire. Yata, who doesn't smoke, secretly thought that the way he used his fingertips like flint was great.

"If we do face it, this time it will be a full-scale war."

"I say let's go get them!"

Yata clenched his fist with all his might at the words Kusanagi spoke as he exhaled smoke.

"I can't wait for it."

Fighting spirit boiled up and the power of red seeped out from the body, enveloping Yata's entire body in a faint red. Kusanagi shrugged and laughed a little.

"Don't get excited. You really do a better job when the blood circulates less through your head."

"It's hard to stay calm at a time like this!"

"Yata-chan, you'd be better off if you weren't such an idiot. But it wouldn't be you, if you weren't an idiot."

When Yata was congested and about to scream, Kusanagi suddenly looked at Yata with a slight smile and seemed to be cheering him on.

"You especially get excited when Fushimi is involved. Well, I can't blame you since they used to be partners."

For a moment, deep in Yata's eyes, he took the hand that held Suoh's flame, accepted Suoh's flame, and the moment he got the mark, the scene flashed.

(Yeah! This is a genuine companion!)

When you pass through the Suoh installation, you will see a tattoo-like "mark" in the shape of a flame somewhere on your body. Yata is proud of it, which is proof of the above.

When Yata graduated from high school, he and Fushimi received the installation from Suoh, and at the same time, they both received a mark under the left clavicle in the same place.

He remembers Kusanagi, who was watching them, saying that it was the first time that someone got the "mark" in the same place where the other's was.

Yata was happy that he seemed to prove that he was a partner of Fushimi.

When the feelings at that moment seemed to revive, Yata bit the surging emotions and said to Kusanagi forcefully.

"No matter how much you say it, it sucks."

Fushimi's finger with flames. A flame that crushed the "mark". A smile that looked at him with contempt.

Yata fought back bitterly, recalling the scenes he wanted to forget in a chain reaction.

"Besides, he was the one who betrayed me first."

Kusanagi glanced at Yata and shrugged a little.

"By the way, since you will be guarding the area for the rest of the night, there is something I would like you to do."

Kusanagi easily changed the story, turned his face to Yata and spoke.

Yata opened his eyes to the content.

"Eh? Why is it like this...!"

"There was a request for a 'personal meeting' in route from the lieutenant over there for me."

"Why don't you get it?"

Kusanagi forgave the yapping Yata with a smile. Kusanagi sometimes showed him a smile that he didn't know what he was thinking.

"The next time we meet face to face, it will be a war without questions. If you want to talk before that, you can't."

"But..."

"It is a violation of the rules to attack the messenger in war... But if other people know about it, I will have the same revulsion as you. Keep this matter here alone."

Kusanagi seemed to accept it and touched Yata's shoulder when he closed his mouth without complaint.

"Trust me, Yatagarasu."

Kusanagi called Yata's nickname and stepped away from the rooftop.

Yata, who was left alone, was silent for a while and then shook his tongue.

(From now on, the "Blue King" will come alone to this island.)

He remembered the words he had heard from Kusanagi and threw them away.

Yata does not like the "Blue King". He just doesn't like him, and he feels like he's going to take important things away from Yata, because he's going to attach a flirtation to Suoh, whom Yata respects more than anyone else.

Yata squeezed his eyes shut.

As he talks to Kusanagi, memories that he did not want to remember came to mind and they did not disappear.

Until a few years ago, Yata and Fushimi were best friends.

They met in middle school and spent their youth together. The two of them were holding something that surrendered to each other, but they could breathe well side by side and they had a great dream if they were together.

Yata still doesn't know where something went wrong.

He was in the back alley in front of the HOMRA bar where he ended up with Fushimi.

"I joined 'Scepter 4'." Said Fushimi. For Yata, it was a declaration of war in his ears.

"Bastard, what's wrong with you now?"

After being stunned for a moment, blood suddenly spilled over his head and Yata grabbed Fushimi's chest and squeezed it. Fushimi didn't move and looked at Yata with icy eyes.

"Didn't you hear me? I joined 'Scepter 4'."

"What for?! Why did you betray me? Depending on why..."

When he shook him hard, he swayed while Fushimi swayed, and was looking at Yata with rumored eyes seemingly distant from him.

He was shaken by Yata's hand and his neck was exposed, revealing the "mark" of "Homura" under Fushimi's left clavicle. The pride of "Homura", who is in the same place as Yata, and a test of Yata's partner.

When he left, Yata put his fist on Fushimi's "mark" and pushed hard.

"This is a sign, probably our pride! Even though I have this on my chest, why you...?"

"Pride?"

He asked Fushimi's voice, which turned wetter. Somehow, it was a voice that pushed through the emotions that Yata didn't really understand.

The fingertips of Fushimi's right hand harbored flames. Yata was confused when he saw the tips of his five muscular fingers emitting red flames. He had often seen red power in his knives during battle, but this was the first time he had seen Fushimi use this type of flame.

Facing Yata, who forgot his anger for a moment and waited for Fushimi's next behavior, Fushimi put his burning fingers on the "mark" below his collarbone and scratched his hard.

He heard a burning sound on his skin.

The "mark" was on fire. It should be hot. It should hurt. However, Fushimi scratched the "mark" up and down with a distorted smile as he sweated.

He drew a red-black burnt line at the "mark", as if it were a strikethrough.

Yata's entire body was bleeding. His limbs grew cold and didn't move well, and his lips trembled. The scent of Fushimi burning his skin drifted to the tip of his nose and he felt the rocking motion in front of him.

"Ah... the pride you say has collapsed, Misaki?"

Fushimi said. Fushimi's voice was slightly hummed with a smile, probably because he was encouraged to endure the pain.

Yata was beginning to lose track of her feelings, whether it was anger, sadness, or despair.

However, even when Fushimi hurt himself so terribly, he was ignorant of the fact that he was trying to destroy "Homura's" pride and Yata's essence.

Fushimi continued speaking with a distorted smile.

"You ask me why I betrayed you? Because this is stupid. Although we have a special power, everything we do is play punks and gangsters. I really suck in 'Homura'."

Yata's emotions, which had been scattered and disturbed, slowly integrate into one. He was angry. Anger rebuilt Yata, who was about to collapse, and gave him some power in his abandoned childlike mind.

Fushimi desecrated what Suoh gave him, which Yata prized above all else. Fushimi imitated spitting at Suoh, who gave birth to Yata's locked world.

"Saru! Even though you were picked up from the street by Mikoto-san, how dare you be disrespectful to "Homura"?"

In response to Yata's anger, Yata's red power overflowed to the surface of his body and he burned. He dissipates the heat to evaporate the tears that had risen.

He looked into the eyes of the man who once called his partner with the intention of shooting.

Fushimi shook his shoulders and laughed out loud. His eyes glowed with a dark light, but he lifted the edge of his mouth satisfactorily.

"That's right, Misaki. Don't laugh, look at me all the time."

"Damn traitor... I'll kill you...!"

The path between the two was divided.

Unable to understand what Fushimi was thinking, Yata suffered the sensation of ripping out his internal organs over and over again. He wondered why, he went to the place they shared and gritted his teeth.

(But that's okay. If you want me to look angry, I will. If you stand in front of me, I will crush you.)

Shaking off the pain in his chest, Yata took off across the sea.

At the end of the Black Sea, a group of blue lights lit by "Scepter 4's" armored vehicle floated in a row.

++++++++++

Munakata, who arrived on the island in a small boat at midnight, thanked Kusanagi for welcoming him with a slight bow of his head.

Kusanagi replied with just a small bow and started walking without exchanging words.

Kusanagi took the lead, followed by Munakata. The snow flickered but kept falling.

Instead of going to the school building, he was heading to the shrine at the back of the island in a wooded area so as not to bump into other members.

"Wait here."

In front of the stone steps of the shrine, Kusanagi turned around, letting out only a minimum of words. The fact that he was on the brink of war was taken into account, not himself, but Kusanagi was called from behind when he was about to leave.

"Why?"

Kusanagi stopped and looked back. The orderly "King", dressed in a blue uniform, looked a little different than the usual Kusanagi knew, irreverent man, calm and serene, transcendental. There was even a childish atmosphere that he kept asking why he didn't understand.

"You know what he's waiting for at the end of this rebellion, right?"

When asked directly, Kusanagi did not have an answer. His question was correct, but he thought that Kusanagi would not be convinced when he answered.

"Breathing and living is crazy."

To say that, Munakata had an expression that was the opposite of what he was convinced of, and made an icy voice.

"So you're dying to 'live' as you call it? Involve unrelated students and endanger the lives of hundreds of thousands of countless citizens?"

Kusanagi smiled silently with a slight smile. He wasn't afraid to hear legitimate accusations from him, but he didn't mean to argue, so he chose silence.

Seeing Kusanagi like this, Munakata erased the irritation and discomfort from his facial expression and said in a simple voice.

"If you are so stubborn, why did you accept my offer?"

"Because you came to speak to him as an individual, not as a 'King'. I have neither the right nor the will to reject you, and I prefer that you see him."

Munakata said nothing more. Kusanagi started walking leaving him this time.

Kusanagi broke through the bushes surrounding the shrine and headed toward Gakuenjima's front place, trampling the fine snow. Immediately after entering the gate, where a clock tower was built as a symbol in the square, but it was knocked down by a light blow of fire from Suoh, and now he was lying on his side. The collapse of the clock tower was probably still neglected there.

The menacing threat to destroy the clock tower made the noisy students quieter and easier to handle, but a bit over the top.

(King's flames are too big, right?)

Totsuka said that when he was with him.

Yes, that was the first winter that Suoh became the "Red King", and Totsuka and Kusanagi became members of the clan.

It was a flickering snow night like today, when Suoh mistakenly controlled his power and burned down an entire abandoned building.

After getting rid of the situation, Suoh, Kusanagi, and Totsuka were walking down the snowy night street. Suoh was in a bad mood, but Totsuka said with a smile as usual, "King's flames are too big, right?"

Suoh made a little irony and let out a rarely misunderstood voice: "It was bad." Totsuka laughed in amusement.

"Didn't you say you didn't like it? No one complains that firepower is too strong like the sun."

"I don't want to be like the sun."

"That's right. King is a king, not the sun, so he doesn't just keep burning, but he burns and burns as he wants."

As Suoh thinks. Kusanagi appears to be frowned upon when Suoh, who hides the urge to destroy himself, hides on the back of his chest and behaves the way he really wants.

"I hope you are a little more dexterous. I wonder if the building often burns from the impulse of things."

"King is so clumsy!"

"Hahaha.", Totsuka laughed, and Suoh hit him on the head with a "Shut up."

Then, he practiced using the flames skillfully, and Totsuka turned his palm to the sky. A flame floated on the white palm like a dot and a red pill, which transformed into a butterfly shape and fluttered. The flaming butterflies rising from the palm of his hand flutter in the flickering snow, as if they were actually alive.

"This is an unexpectedly difficult and good practice."

With a red clan flame called the "Flame of Destruction", Totsuka would often do something clean and smooth, like a child enthusiastic about working with clay. They were mostly butterflies, birds and other creatures that flew free, showing off the beauty of the color of the red flames.

Kusanagi and Suoh looked at the red butterflies flying on a winter night with their detoxified eyes. The flaming butterflies that flew while scattering sparks were somewhat blurry and cute.

"But you can do something with a terrifying flame of destruction."

"King's flames aren't all scary. It's warm and clean."

In fact, Totsuka spun a fire butterfly and wagged Kusanagi's nose, claiming it would be hot and clean.

Emerging from the thoughts of the past, Kusanagi exhaled a white breath into the cold air.

It was a snowy day like today, but when he thought that he felt much warmer than today, Kusanagi laughed softly when he found a small dome of warm colors wherever he went.

"Yes, I know. The 'King' sleeps all the time, though his vassals are hanging around."

Kusanagi shouted slightly towards the dome of red light that floated above the clock tower that lay on its side.

The dome of light was formed by Suoh's power. Suoh was lying next to Anna. The inside of the dome was hot due to the power of the red that controls the flames. The broken tiles of the clock tower were decorated white with snow, but there was no snow inside the dome, and Anna, who was lounging outside at midnight in December, did not appear to be cold at all.

"That's what it means to be a 'King'."

Kusanagi shrugged while Suoh was lying down.

"No, I think there is a problem with your image of a 'King'. Well, I'm not saying you have to work with us, but…"

Kusanagi frowned after saying that in a scared voice.

"...You are waiting?"

"Yes."

Do you think it will work?"

"Yes."

Suoh also gave a minimal answer to the questions. Kusanagi sighed with a bitter smile and lowered his eyebrows.

"Well we'll humbly do our best to catch him before then."

When he sat on a cracked tile, he turned his back on Suoh and Anna. Staring up at the night sky where the snow was falling as he felt the signs of him behind, the fluffy heat approached from behind and the fine snow that had accumulated under Kusanagi's feet began to melt. Suoh seems to have expanded the dome a bit.

He was deeply moved by the fact that he sometimes used gentle power, and was reminded of the flaming Totsuka butterflies that he once saw.

As if carried away by him, various memories so far emerged one after another in Kusanagi's head and exploded.

"When I met Totsuka, I wondered if that boy was not enough. I felt it was dangerous for him to get close, but he was happy saying that he would become a servant of the king."

Before Suoh became "King". Although he had a difficult and scary personality, he met Totsuka, a middle school student who called Suoh King and laughed at Suoh, who was just a high school student who did not carry something so troublesome and so big. It seemed like it was a long time ago, and it seems like it was yesterday.

The three of them hung out, hanging out and playing like fools. Eventually, however, Suoh became known as the "King" by people outside of Totsuka, and was chosen by the Slate and became the "Red King".

Kusanagi remembers the first time he saw the sword that appeared above Suoh's head. That day he was cloudy. In the cloudy sky that he hung low, a huge sword appeared while emitting red light. Instinctively it turned out that he ruled Suoh's fate.

Kusanagi thought that the huge red sword, which was shaped like a flame and pointed downward, was beautiful and terrifying.

"Don't put your sword to your head."

Kusanagi giggled and said that. Suoh seemed to be a bit embarrassed or confused, with an indescribable thin smile, causing flames to appear on both hands. He extended his right hand to Kusanagi, who was enveloped in the red flame, and his left hand to Totsuka.

"Would you like to hold my hand?"

The fate of Suoh, who possessed a powerful flame that could burn everything, changed, and the fate of Kusanagi and Totsuka, who held his hand, also changed.

"But you have become a literal 'King' to 'Homura'."

Those were the days of the angry clan. The number of friends and people who thought that the HOMRA bar was his home had increased. Between them, Totsuka always laughed. He kept trying to make the place where his friends gathered around Suoh a fun place.

"I thought you were a bomb that wanted to explode, not a guy who would protect or rally people, but... I guess Totsuka saw something different in you."

Suddenly, he heard Suoh laugh with only his breath behind him.

"You are more right than Totsuka."

Kusanagi also exhaled and laughed. Kusanagi himself believes so too. However, he believed that Suoh was a "King" even though he was not of that type.

"Even so, since you became 'King', you have become a weapon that shoots at enemies to protect what you need to protect, not an explosive bomb. With you and the people around you. At first, I thought that I could have a good time. "

It was fun.

Kusanagi obediently thought about it.

"Don't say that, it's irritating."

Suoh said that with a very irritated voice. Kusanagi laughed lightly this time and stood up.

"I'm sorry. When you're older, you start trying to hold on to the past."

He turned around, changed feelings, and called out to the girl next to Suoh.

"Anna, come with me."

Anna got up and looked at Kusanagi with her red eyes. Just by looking at him, Anna attended and took Kusanagi's hand as if she knew everything.

Kusanagi hugged Anna from the top of the clock tower tile, and Suoh turned off the warm red dome and lifted half of his body.

"Someone has come to see you."

He doesn’t ask who he was. Suoh had a slightly subtle expression, but he silently jumped off the rocky shore.

When he told the location, Suoh said nothing and walked silently towards that place.

Looking at his back as he walked away, Kusanagi spoke words that he had never said or intended to say.

"Couldn't ask for a better king."

++++++++++

He hears the sound of stepping on the snow.

Munakata was on his way to the shrine, waiting for the King of Steps. Looking down from the side, he saw a red-haired man walking through a snow-covered torii gate and up a long stone staircase.

The cold snowy night was horribly quiet, and Suoh's silent footsteps seemed to be the only sound in the world.

Even seeing Munakata, Suoh giggled a little and approached slowly without accelerating.

"I thought sharing the same air as me made you want to throw up."

"Sometimes I want to breathe poison."

Munakata laughed wryly and pulled a box of cigarettes from his chest when Suoh stopped in front of him. Facing Suoh's unexpected face, he added one and offered it to Suoh.

Suoh obediently took out the cigarette and put it in his mouth, and before Munakata reached for a lighter, he lit the tip of Munakata's cigarette with his finger. Suoh's flames turned red in front of him for a moment, and when he realized it, Munakata's cigarette was on fire. While Munakata was puzzled, Suoh laughs with an evil child face, slid down the side of him and climbed the stone steps to the top.

With some relief on his shoulders, Munakata inhaled slowly and deeply the cigarette smoke.

It was the taste of the cigarette he smoked for the first time in a long time. When he was an adult for a while, he first bought a box and smoked it to find out how he tasted, but got no more impressions than that.

He understood how to enjoy the taste and aroma, but it was not enough to balance the disadvantages they gave him and others, and he did not get into the habit of smoking.

But now, he was grateful for the cigarettes. He felt it would be a little easier to get away from his being, letting himself be carried away by the bitterness and sweetness that he felt on his tongue and the sensation that his skull was tingling.

He walked to the top of the stone steps and looked at Suoh, who shook the cigarette from him and for a moment purple smoke glowed silently.

"I'm going to get straight to the point."

Munakata said.

"Peacefully leave this school. I can't overlook the way you're involving unrelated high school students. If you do it now, he could handle this before things got out of hand."

"That's a good idea... is that what you hope it says?"

"It's not an idea, it's an ultimatum. You've gone too far, Suoh."

Suoh didn't seem to move the dust or move, and he was smoking slowly.

"That being the case, let me kill the criminal who murdered Totsuka Tatara, who calls himself the 'Colorless King'."

This time, Suoh slightly moved his expression. He looked at Munakata with a helpless and surprised face, and then laughed wryly.

"It's an interesting proposal coming from you, but... I refuse."

"I am sure you have seen the terrible form of your Sword of Damocles. The Sword is the symbol of a 'King' and manifests its true form depending on its condition. Your sword will soon fall."

"Oh, really?"

"Your deviation from Weismann is already at the limit. If the burden of killing a 'King' is applied here, it will definitely reach its limit, and you could cause a repeat of the Kagutsu crater tragedy. You no longer have any right to be 'King'."

Munakata looked at Suoh and said that out loud. He told him the same thing as in the dark detention center of "Scepter 4" with the urgency that there was no time left. He even felt like praying.

"It's time for you to resign, "Red King"."

Suoh laughed.

"I never acted like a 'King'."

He smoked the cigarette Munakata had given him. Munakata grabbed Suoh's chest and pushed him down hard. Suoh fell backward onto the stone pavement covered in fine snow and relaxed without resistance.

Munakata bit his back teeth angrily, easily knocking him over.

Suoh was the only man who didn't always turn out as expected. Excluding the reason why Munakata preached, he fought the sword of Munakata with a fiery fist, destroying the ideal order of Munakata with chaotic violence.

Even so, Suoh was never afraid of Munakata and stood in front of Munakata. He now he was being ridden without resistance upon being defeated by Munakata. Munakata did not recall anger under justice, even personal hatred, in his attitude as if he was willing to accept anger for the destruction of sin.

The hand that grabbed Suoh's chest was shaking when he flinched because he was too strong.

"There are ordinary unrelated students here. Your men are here too."

He said to Suoh from a close distance.

"Do you understand?"

Suoh, who had been avoiding the chase with a relaxed demeanor until then, did not look away, did not move his eyes, and looked directly into Munakata's eyes closely.

As he looked at Munakata with a slight immobile eye, Suoh slowly tied his words together as if saying something.

"I'll hang my head. You'll do your job. That's it, right?"

At that moment, Munakata's entire body was struck by a feeling of helplessness that he had never felt in his life.

Munakata relaxed and released the hand that was holding Suoh's chest.

He froze and stood, aware of his emotionally heated head.

"You are a savage. You are beyond my understanding."

"Huh. Did you think you could persuade me? That's not your style."

Suoh also stood up saying that.

Not even at the gala could it be like that. He didn't understand Suoh, but he could tell that he understood him at the same time. At least he knew Suoh wouldn't bend his will here.

However, he believes it would be different if it were his own gala to surrender.

Above all, he would feel bad if he had to hit Reisi Munakata's words as an individual before facing him as the "Blue King" who championed a cause.

"Not really… I just came to see my friend."

When he turned around and said that he wasn't even at the gala, Suoh expressed his most amazing emotions. The expression quickly turned into a bitter and embarrassed smile.

Suoh dropped the cigarette he had just grabbed, and stomped on it.

"Come on."

Suoh turned his back on Munakata and said that in a soft voice.

The two of them, looking in different directions, stared at the chunks of snow falling in front of them for a while.

"Suoh, are you sure you don't change your mind?"

"I'm sure."

Munakata lowered his eyes.

The snow was a little bigger than before, and it fell softly to the ground without a sound and piled up.

The passion he simmered in Munakata had cooled, and the coldness of the snowy night had penetrated to the core of his body.

"Idiot."

The words he would normally never use disappeared as if they were absorbed by the snow.

++++++++++

The exterior of the connecting bridge in Gakuenjima was surrounded by members of "Scepter 4", and the interior of the campus was guarded by members of "Homura".

However, none of them could see the "King", so by making full use of Neko's cognitive manipulation ability, they were able to reach Gakuenjima's bedroom and the place that was the boy's room without being discovered by anyone. To those who passed near the boy, they just looked like a cat, a dog, and a working garden.

"I returned!"

When he opened the door to the room he was used to living in, the words naturally leaked from the boy's mouth. However, he snuck into a scene far from the family room.

"Ah! What happened here? A thief?"

The boy's room was charred black. There was a large hole from the wall to the floor, and the rebar was exposed, and the churning snow was piling up at the edge of the room. The bed the boy was always lying on, the chabudai where he ate delicious rice with Kuro and Neko, and his favorite rice cooker were charred.

"What world would thieves blow up the wall to enter?"

Kuro said with a rough face. Certainly this high temperature burned mark is likely a powerful explosive, or the Red Clan's job to manipulate the flames at will.

When he was looking around the room, he heard Neko yell, "Nyaa!"

"My cup! She was my favorite!"

There was a broken bowl in Neko's hand. This is the bowl that was used when the three of them surrounded the chabudai and ate Kuro's homemade food. The bowl, which had been filled with white rice, was now split in half and stained black with soot. Neko was staring at the bowl in her hand with teary eyes.

The boy also lifted his tattered shirt on the ground and sighed a little.

"I desperately escaped the aircraft crash, but my homesick home ended like this..."

He was exhausted because he escaped from the helicopter involved in the accident through Kuro's ingenuity, he entered the hotel (it was a love hotel because he was not in a position to stay in a normal hotel) to recover his energy and physical strength. The boy's body was also recovering, but when he saw that this place, which was his base, was destroyed, he was disappointed.

Kuro also lowered his eyes with a harsh expression.

"We heard that Gakuenjima was occupied by 'Homura' and we hurried back, but I never imagined that the 'Red King' would show up."

"And it appears that the Blues have the entire area blocked off. Well, I'll put off looking for my true identity for now."

"This has become serious. At worst, this school could become a battlefield between clans. Perhaps we shouldn't have come here."

Neko, who was trying to hold the broken bowl together, puffed out her cheeks.

"I told you before! This is our house! It's only fair that we go back to our house!"

Looking at Neko who appealed to his claims, the boy was motivated to recover from his feelings of depression. It is not the case when he stumbles in a place like this and cannot escape from here.

The boy stood up with a strong forehead and laughed at them.

"Neko is right. We have to clean our own house. So what should we do now?"

In the middle of the boy's words, Kuro unconsciously touched his chest. The boy knew well what he was keeping there. Kuro's late master, whom he loves from the bottom of his heart. It's a voice recorder that records Ichigen Miwa's haikus.

"Would you like to ask Ichigen-san?"

When he asked him with a smile, Kuro replied, "What?" with a face that he realized what he had achieved for the first time.

"He had the power to look to the future, right? Then he could have given us some advice before our current situation."

When he thought about it, Miwa's words on the tape recorder helped him choose whether or not to kill the boy on the spot and encourage him to search for his true existence.

It was a casual question for the boy, but Kuro looked at the recorder that he took out of his pocket with a serious expression and thought for a moment.

"No, we already know what we have to do."

Kuro returned the recorder to his pocket without listening to it.

He looked directly at the boy and said.

"We have to rescue Kukuri and the others. That's obvious. You don't have to listen to Ichigen-sama's words to know that."

Kuro, who maintained his stance that Miwa Ichigen was everything and should be prioritized above all else, prioritized his own will and decision.

That fact surprised the boy a bit and encouraged him even more.

"Yes, that's right. Let's find out where Kukuri and his friends are. Neko, let's go."

"Huh? But I still haven't done..."

Neko looked down to put a stop to the bowl she was holding, that had the cracks stuck in a dangerous balance.

The boy smiled gently at Neko.

"Okay. We'll be back soon."

"Yes."

Neko still had a sad and lonely face, but she stood up. When she left the room where she lived with the boy, Neko said it was a "house" and looked sad.

"Goodbye."

She said a little goodbye, and Neko closed the bedroom door.

#k #k project #k the first story #k novel

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poptod · 4 years ago

Note

could you do an elliot x reader where the reader describes elliot and what all things the reader loves about him

notes: this took a bit to get out but here it is. i'd like to say now that i am disabled (however I don't live in a hospital yet) and any insult towards disabled people in this is simply selfhatred and not bigotry. kind of strayed from the prompt but i hope you like it anyway :) thank u for requesting

Elliot didn't seem the type of person who would like you – he was quiet and intelligent, like every person who belittled you just because you weren't smart. Because of that and that alone, you mostly avoided him, which wasn't hard. He didn't come to the hospital often, but when he did it was a hell of an uproar. All the patients went around telling about his injuries, making up stories to coincide with them, as Elliot was not the type of person to tell the doctors the origins of his wounds.

You stayed out of it.

Still, you'd pass by his room every now and then the few times you felt like you could walk. Most other times you stayed in your wheelchair, using the smaller break area to get snacks instead of going up a floor to the actual lounge.

Every now and then the rooms would switch up – more often you'd get placed in a communal room, shaped like a large hallway and filled with six or so patients in their beds. It freed up space for emergency patients and nonpermanent ones, but that didn't stop your bedmates from complaining. Most of them were old, and those who had good care were privileged, and did not understand nuances of the modern world. A good deal of them weren't even aware they were in the modern world, and though it was sad to most others you found it interesting. They were practical gateways to different times, time travelling without ever leaving the hospital, learning new things without ever attending school.

Recently you were moved to a room fitted for two people, though for the most of that time it was only you in there. It was almost nice – the quiet, the privacy, and an indicator that the hospital wasn't overloaded. All things end though, and all things change, and one evening you awoke to find Elliot in the bed across from you. He was passed out, the curtain around him drawn only to hide him from the glass wall leading to the corridors. You could fully see him – the cuts on his head indicative of a concussion, the bruised eye most likely a result of a fight, the rough breathing caused by bruising and breaking of the ribs.

It took several days before he woke up from his coma, constantly under the surveillance of nurses who flitted in and out of the room. They ignored you for the most part, knowing you were a steady patient, and that you could handle yourself in this environment.

Your condition, while it couldn't kill you, was extremely unpleasant and often barred you from leaving your bed most days. Now you had little reason to otherwise – Elliot was... interesting. Just to watch. The way he stared up at the television, his fingers tapping against his leg and how the clamp around his forefinger made a heavier sound than the rest. A chronic fidgeter – a bit like yourself in that aspect, but the way he spoke was what really got you going. Rough and low, an almost monotone voice that lilted only in the most dire times. Still you kept your distance, reminding yourself that people like him did not like people like you. Restrained and disabled. Stupid and weak.

It had to be sometime in the middle of night. There were no clocks in your new room, but it was pitch black outside, the only light being the streetlights and cars busying themselves far below your floor. To your left, the hospital halls remained nearly empty. Most nurses and doctors had gone home, replaced by those in constant night shift, a job you did not envy. While you were nocturnal for your own health, working during the night seemed like an awful fate.

No matter – you pushed the blankets off your legs, hoisting yourself to sit up and soon stand tall on your feet. You hardly noticed Elliot still in the corner, at least not until the world began to black out, a cold tingling swarming over your head as you lost vision and feeling in your legs and arms. Only when you didn't hit the ground did you notice him. You felt the arms around you, the touch of warm skin against your freezing forearms, and his panicked breathing against your exposed neck.

"Thank you," you said rather dumbly, empty of any other reply. Wordlessly he helped you into your wheelchair, only returning to his bed when he trusted you were fully situated.

"Be careful," he mumbled.

Those were the first words he said to you, and though you didn't know it at the time, they were only the beginning of the many words and emotions he would communicate with you.

When you returned that same evening after your trip to the break room and bathroom, he was still awake, watching as you opened and closed the door behind you, waiting till you hauled yourself back into bed before he spoke.

"I've seen you here a lot," he said in that low voice that had your heart picking up. Thankfully, you were not connected to a heart monitor.

"That's probably because I live here," you said, chuckling softly, halted only by the expression he gave you. Unreadable but shocked – maybe mortified that he'd asked that question. Many people were. To them, you were glass.

Instead of apologizing, he asked, "why?"

"Neural condition. First of my kind," you said with almost a hint of pride – the first to have your type of disease. No cure, no shared misery, nothing. "Makes me have pain all the time and shuts off some of the networks in my brain. Body too, sometimes. 'S why I faint a lot when I stand."

He thought for a moment. At least that's what he looked like he was doing, staring at the blue blanket over his legs as a silence came between you.

"That must be difficult."

"Sometimes. I don't mind it so much though," you said, only a half lie. "It's all I've ever known. What are you here for anyway?"

He didn't answer. Instead he shifted onto his side, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. A sigh left you – of course he wouldn't tell you. He didn't even tell the doctors, so in his absence you pulled one of the books from your side table, turned on your reading light, and immersed yourself in a story for the remainder of the night.

In the daytime he continues to fidget, playing with his nails or his lips, running his hands through his hair – you love when he does that. You know you shouldn't love anything about him, considering he still hasn't shown any taste for you, but you find yourself admiring it despite that. Beautiful things can exist without reciprocation, and to be fair you aren't beautiful in most people's eyes. You’re broken, but you don't think on it much, and you don't imagine what you could've been. He's a wonderful distraction from that.

One evening he tells you – out of the blue he looks to the side of your head (the closest he's ever come to actual eye contact) and he just tells you. You hardly believe it, believe him, but he speaks as though he's sincere. Besides, you're not here to doubt him. You're here to listen.

"That's rough buddy," you said quietly when he finished. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Who fuckin' knows," he grumbled, shifting his position to look out the window, where the edge of dusk faded over the horizon.

He gets better, eventually. And eventually he leaves the hospital – you tell him as he leaves, pulling on his clothes behind the curtain, that you enjoyed his company. That every horrible thing will have a place in his life, but that it's important to have a place for good things too. He doesn't really say anything. He mumbles something you can't hear, something you aren't fully meant to hear, and then he leaves.

Without a word.

He visits the hospital a couple more times, each time with the same injuries as before, and usually the same cause, but the only person he divulges the causes to is you. Quietly, so the doctors won't hear. Sometimes he sits at your bedside, even when you don't share a room, and he tells you about everything going on, everything in his life, every horrible thing he's stopped, every person he's inadvertently killed, every regret he's had, and he's had a lot of them. He's so broken, so tired of what he does – it's evident in the way he almost touches you. Softness fills his eyes when you smile, and the thought of it has tears brimming in your eyes.

You did that.

You made him happy.

It's worth it for that. He deserves happiness, has a better chance with it than you do – you have no say in your life other than the ability to roll yourself into an elevator and fling yourself off the roof of the building. But he has friends, albeit few of them, and he has work. Hobbies, too. When he talks about his hobbies (which you'd refer more to as hyper-fixations) you can almost see him smile. He gets more animated, he talks and talks and talks for ages and you listen. You listen well, even though you can't understand, and you ask questions in hopes of clarifying despite the fact you know you'll never understand. Again, you're not smart like he is. Not after all your medication.

Eventually his trips to the hospital begin to change in their meaning. He comes for check ups every now and then, and each time he visits you. He brings food from the world outside, new books, trinkets, things that might remind him of you, and each time he plays it down like it's nothing. But you have nothing left, no parents or friends, so the 'nothing' he gives you amounts to everything in your head.

Eventually his trips to the hospital become meaningless. He doesn't even check in – he just makes a beeline for your room, sometimes asking the front desk where you are if the rooms change, but for the most part he ignores everyone else in the hospital but you. It shatters and rebuilds your heart. This man who has lost so very much, gone through so many terrible things finds solace in you. He visits the hospital just for you.

No one does that.

You're a hard friend to have. You can't go out, you can barely walk, every now and then a shot of pain will interrupt a conversation to the point where you're writhing on the floor, pounding your fists against your head or anywhere where it might hurt as the nurses rush in and put you under anesthesia. You're embarrassing, and your whole life feels like a detriment to those around you.

Elliot holds your hand, and he hums. Quietly, and a tune you can't identify, but it stirs you out of one of those breakdowns, your dizzy vision focusing to see his silhouette against the city skyscrapers, the plush of his lips in the fluorescent lights, the scarce comfort in his eyes that appears only around you. To him you are safe, and to him you are his. To you, he is love, and to you, you are his.

Uncommon people band together, protect each other from the world meaning to do them harm, and there is no greater example of this than when he hides himself in you, and you let yourself live in him. A strange connection indeed, and not one anyone else would understand. You hardly understand it yourself, but when he smiles for the first time, a wide smile, followed with a laugh that comes from his chest as his eyes shut and he falls back in his chair – you hardly feel your pain. It's just him.

It's just him, and nothing else needs to exist.

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr robot

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jocazep · 4 years ago

Text

In the Whole Wide Train | Chapter 10

Author’s notes: Hi, remember me? Sorry about the six-month hiatus, but I’m back at it! And it gon’ get dark (even more so than before), so this is just me laying in the groundworks early... ENJOY~

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (Jo, OFC), slight Edgar x Reader

Warnings: Major spoilers for SNOWPIERCER, dystopian society and its countless problems, mentions of forced abortions, language, violence, deaths, slow burn, eventual smut

Synopsis: Having grown up in the Front Sections of the Snowpiercer, you venture down the train when a rare opportunity presents itself, but the excursion quickly changes flavor when you arrive in the Tail Section.

Taglist: Now closed

Series Masterlist

Chapter 10 - Trading Secrets

Curtis couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well--it must have been before the train. There were no dreams, there were no nightmares, just deep, post-climax slumber as if the world around him has melted away--until the alarm blaring “oh-seven-hundred-hours” yanked him out.

He jumped up, but had to take a second before realizing where he was, as the rest of the revolters joined him, stirring awake and confused--the world outside was pitch dark.

“We’re traveling against time zones” Your voice sounded from behind--Curtis turned to see you walking up with a cup of hot water in hand, ”C’mon, need to make some arrangements before we push on.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He took your extended hand, stood up, and pulled you in for a quick kiss. You didn’t kiss back. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh nothing. Gilliam is looking for us is all.”

The truth of the matter is a little bit more complicated than that.

You woke up early. As a medical apprentice, you used to do that before you had important appointments, as it would clear your head and prepare for your day, but today you found no such effect.

Your eyes fixated on Curtis as he lay next to you, breathing in and out, but your head was a million miles away. What was last night? Was it just two people seeking solace in each other after the death of a mutual friend? Or was it the culmination of all those little touches and stolen glances and shared silences? Did it mean anything to him? More importantly, did it mean anything to you?

But then Mason entered your mind in stealth, slowly gnawing away in the back of your head, until you couldn’t focus on the inner debate between your commitment to your father vs. your--your what? Your responsibility? Your debt?--whatever it is you owe to the revolt.

So you push yourself up, and padded barefoot towards where Mason was being held captive.

“It’s about time.” Her unmistakable accent greeted you before your eyes could find her, “ah is that water?”

You didn’t respond, but dipped the mug in your hand lower so she could suck a mouthful of the liquid before you rescinded it.

“Any chance you can spare some food as well, my dear?”

“Not unless you want the fish they gutted before the fight.” You sat down next to Mason, and silence fell for a second.

“Well, I suppose we should make a de--”

“When did he send you to the tail section?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how old were you when my father first sent you to the tail sections?”

“I must have been around...well, your age.“

“You don’t know how old I am.”

“You, Joanna Catherine Watt Wilford, are thirty-two years and some three odd months old.”

You stare at Mason in astonishment.

“I’ve seen your birth certificate. There was a time when Mr. Wilford thought about giving you to a foster family... After your mother passed away of course...” Mason took a pause, “But I thought you are here to warn me--”

“I am.” You kept your eyes straight ahead, “This is just my human interest story for the report.”

You tend to forget that for some people, there was a life before the train, since you had barely turned fifteen when your estranged father plucked you from the monotony of a privileged private school, into a monotony of the train.

But hey, at least you got to practice medicine and help people. Is that what I’m doing now?

“The report--that’s why I first went down there too, you know...He must see it as a rite of passage.” A smile threatens to break as Mason reminisced about her past.

“Was it..” You didn’t know how to phrase the question, but luckily Mason caught onto your train of thought.

“Oh dear, even more so. Mr. Wilford really turned it around. They were surviving on rats and vermin before the protein block assembly. When I first went down there... it’s as if all society had broken down. There was stories about this pregnant woman... And when they found out who I was, they chained me up and almost tore me to pieces. Imagine what they would do to you. ”

You had heard enough, “All right, here’s the deal. I keep you alive, you keep your mouth shut about me. Sound good?”

Mason nodded enthusiastically as you stood up to leave. “Just one more thing, what does Mr. Wilford want with Curtis?”

You did not look back, “Ask another wrong question, and my father will hear about it.”

Mason all but clasped her hands onto her mouth.

You were planning to sneak back and lay your head on Curtis’ chest, relive the little escape you two had before the day had to begin, but today luck just wasn’t on your side. As your turned the corner back into the makeshift dorm, soft crying and sniffling caught your attention.

It was Tanya. By the dim moonlight reflected from the snow, you could see her clutching a piece of paper and wiping tears from her face. By the time you realized it was the charcoal drawing of Timmy she was holding, it was too late to turn back.

Noticing the light shift, Tanya sat up and look at the person standing a few feet from her. You didn’t know what to do for a moment. You two haven’t been alone since you came clean about Timmy. In a letter no less, you coward.

“I didn’t mean to--”

Tanya lay back down and closed her eyes.

What was the rest of your sentence anyway? You asked yourself as you padded towards the infirmary section, sleep now the last thing on your mind. Didn’t mean to pry? Didn’t man to take Timmy? Didn’t mean to get so close to Curtis and the revolt?

You were pulled from the reverie by Yuna’s hand tugging your sleeve. Around you, the men were deep in discussion, figuring out how many people to station at each section.

Yuna slipped you a piece of paper torn from the small notebook you gifted her. On it she had drawn a picture of herself and Namgoong in the prison section, the many drawers colored dark and ominous. Yuna pointed to the drawers.

“It’s a little advanced for you but ok,” you took the pencil from her and spelled out the word prison, “Prison, it’s a place to hold people that have broken the law.”

Yuna didn’t seem to like that word. She wrestled the paper from you, pointed to the drawers again, and looked at you, waiting for a response.

“Jo?” You whipped your head back to the much less mystifying, but much more important meeting.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

Curtis gave you an update, “Gilliam will stay behind, with 50 men stationed in the water section, then 15 men at each other section before our base,” Base is what you called the tail section now, “Grey will stay with Gilliam as well.”

“Nonsense, Grey will be much more useful to you than me.”

You shot a look at Gilliam as he chimed in, wondering if he really meant it.

“I think Grey should stay too. We are already a large pack as it is--”

“Don’t forget, Jo, we’re going ahead to take the engine,” Gilliam gave you a long look, “who knows what you will find there”.

Right. You bit your tongue and didn’t argue any further. Let’s never forget

“We were trying to decide what we should do about Mason.” Namgoong picked up the thread of discussion, “What do you think?”

“She’s injured, will only slow us down.” Grey’s voice was very quiet.

“I would rather keep her close than let her stay with the captured soldiers. Who knows what she’ll get them up to.”

“That’s fair, I can’t possibly keep an eye on her the whole time,” Gilliam agreed.

“Tanya’s doing a great job watching her.” *So that’s why she’s not in the meeting.*

“She didn’t want to come with us?”

“Of course she did, but--”

“I think Jo’s saying Tanya should go with you.”

The discussion wrapped up quickly after that, as dusk was threatening to break over the horizon. Your partners in crime stood up and went off--there were bags to pack, arrangements to make, and farewells to say.

You dragged your feet, hoping to spend a few minutes with Gilliam before setting off.

“Having doubts, dear?” Gilliam clicked by on his crutch.

“Before I first came down--”

“Perhaps it’s best you don’t tell me exactly what Wilford asked of you.” Sometimes you wish you had his ability to see right through everything.

“You don’t want to know?”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” Gilliam chuckled, “But I’ve feigned ignorance too many times, even for someone my age. I’d like this occasion to be real.”

“Then...can I ask how much you know?”

“As far as I know, the revolt should have served its purpose after the water supply section.”

You nodded, “Do you ever ask yourself, why he always landed on culling?”

“It wasn’t just him, my dear.”

For the second time that day, you stared in astonishment.

“Perhaps you’re the only person with whom I can share this secret.” There were mini explosions happening in your head as Gilliam spoke, “No past revolt has gotten past the water section. Sometimes it was disorganization, sometimes it was survival instincts, sometimes just plain human greed. But every time, the necessary culling would take place, and the tail section would treasure its existence that was magnanimously gifted by Wilford.”

“Why did they settle?”

“The very first revolts that took place, was only six months into the train journey. Curtis was a little past seventeen, completely unaware, and Edgar, god rest his soul, was just a baby. The leader, he rallied enough people to fight. But every battle cost heavily on his side. Byt the time he got to the prison section, there were only a handful of adult men left. And Mason, who was also a surveyor at the time, managed to entice him with promises of a better life. He held out for a while, but eventually he chose the devil he knew.”

“Your point being?"

"My point being, there's only so much you can do at one given time. Learn to pick your battles."

---

You left Gilliam soon after, head still reeling from the secrets he confided, wondering if he ever regretted his past decisions.

“Hey...” Curtis snuck up on you, taking your hand. You jumped slightly, taken out of your trance. “Do you realize this will be the last time we’re alone for a while?”

“Yeah...?”

He pulled you into him, and caught your lips in a long kiss. You both stumble towards the steel walls of the train, eventually settling in a nook. Curtis dipped his tongue past your teeth, tangling with your tongue, one of his knee wedging between your legs, bringing back heated vignettes of last night. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hips bucking against his thigh, your belly bumping up against his increasing hardness.

Curtis eventually lifts his lips from you, allowing you to breathe, while he latches onto the side of your neck. His hand roams up your belly, kneading your breasts, squeezing your side--

“Ow!”

“Shit, sorry,” Hard pause as he remembers your injury, “Is it getting better?”

“No, but I’ll live,” you answered, breathless, “when we get to the health section I’ll take a closer look.”

Curtis rest his head against yours, gulping for air, “This is your injury number three, huh?”

“Yeah, you are bad news for me.”

From the front of the section, someone called out, “Curtis, Jo, we’re doing the portrait!”

“You gonna be okay there?” You eyed his bulge.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute...”

The portrait took longer than you expected. While Painter took down your likeness in charcoal, Andrew was playing with the now captive Mason, asserting his newly-earned dominance over this once proud magistrate.

“I was hoping to talk about it earlier.” Curtis said out of the corner of his mouth as you all stood, eight half-frozen figures.

“I...enjoyed it?” You said, tongue in cheek, “Would recommend to a friend.”

“Funny,” Curtis couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face, “But seriously...”

“I mean...” You looked up at him, “If we both survive when this is all over...”

You were joking but the words hit home for Curtis, as he remembered Edgar. Will you both come out of this alive? He had always considered himself as someone with nothing to lose, but now...

You turned away as you noticed Curtis staring into the distance. Gilliam was standing in the front of the crowd that would stay behind, looking at you with his signature elderly smile, and something else just behind the glasses, a mutual understanding that this is truly farewell.

You found yourself running his words again and again in your head.

“The leader asked for running water, and a stable food supply. Wilford agreed, but asked the leader to help him maintain the balance in the tail section whenever necessary. A few months later, the protein blocks started coming in, a washroom was unlocked, and my secret phone compartment was installed.”

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