#how on EARTH he managed to make will eat a human ear without him remembering it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jincherie · 4 years ago

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lunacy | 01

☽ ● | members: seokjin x reader x jungkook ☽ ● | genre: poly, wolf au, mates au, college au, urban fantasy, angst, smut ☽ ● | wc: 10.7k+ ☽ ● | warnings: none in particular in this part! ☽ ● | notes: here is the first part ! I think this one is going to end up being one of the longer series, so pls send me an ask and lmk what kind of tropes/scenarios u love to see in wolf aus! i wanna make this as self indulgent as possible LMFAO

The entirety of your introduction and exposure to wolves has been at the hands of Jimin and Taehyung, who over the course of your study have arguably become your best friends. It isn't until they drag you to a party held at their packhouse that you meet the rest of their pack, though-- and once you do, thing's already aren't the same as they were before;...

Wolves mate for life, and wolves are almost exclusively monogamous. It's rare for a wolf to have a human mate, and even more unheard of for a wolf to have more than one mate. Unfortunately for you, an incident at this party lands you in the middle of every exception there could possibly be.

— posted; 09.09.2020 | prologue ● next▸

The air is crisp and the plants coloured cool around you, but you're not cold.

You recognise this clearing you're in, but not from the waking world. No, you recognise it because just as it is right now, it has been the set of your dreamscape before. So it's familiar, as you gaze upon it, but at the same time something tingles under your skin in anticipation of the unknown that the shadows hold just beyond the treeline.

It must be early morning, you think to yourself, as you allow your gaze to slip to the sky. It's just fading out of the darkened caress of the night as you look upon it, tinting lighter with each breath you take. You love mornings, you recall with familiarity-- you especially love mornings like this.

There's a slight mist in the air. You don't notice it until you direct you gaze back down to the dewy earth, eyes captured by each patch of wildflowers and blotch of colour. It feels almost magical, really, but for some reason... that isn't the tone of this moment.

You don't know what it is, but something curls in your stomach a little like anticipation. What are you waiting for? You know you've seen this place before, but you can't remember when, or why...

At some point you've taken a seat in the meadow, and while a part of you expects dampness to seep into your skin, you remain safe and dry. It's comfortable. This is the nicest dream you've ever dreamt, a distant part of you surmises. You're just running your hands through the silky blades of grass and watching the dewdrops collect on your skin when a soft snap sounds far to your left.

You probably should be alarmed, but when you look up it's only in curiosity. What you see, again, should be cause for alarm-- but for some reason, the sight of the great, hulking wolf lingering at the edge of the treeline doesn't cause you anything but a flutter in your stomach.

It's not alone, you notice a moment later as something emerges from the shadows beyond it. There are two of them, both massive but one of them a little bigger than the other-- it is leaner and its limbs are longer, though, while the shorter one is thicker in its form, each limb corded with muscle.

For a moment they stare at you, and when you catch the golden hue of their eyes that gleams a little too bright to be natural, you realise they're not normal. Of course, within the walls of this dream you take it in stride.

The way they hover all the way over the other side of the meadow is almost... hesitant. You tilt your head, watching as they stay calmly in place. When you speak it's without even thinking, but you're not bothered by what comes out.

"You can come over here, you know?" you say, offering them a smile. How cool will it be if you can manage to make friends with two wolves! Regardless of their unnatural size and stature, and, now that you think about it, their colouring...

The first to move is the bigger one, its coat a gorgeous mix of sand and caramel, with streaks of white marking around its eyes and ears, as well as fitting around its front paws like boots. You'd noticed that he was a little leaner than the other earlier, but you're realising now as you watch him advance slowly that that doesn't mean he's any weaker. Each stride he takes makes dense muscle shift beneath his skin and fur, and you're slightly in awe of the power contained in his limbs as he moves.

The other wolf is no less magnificent to behold-- its fur is a curious blend of charcoal and ink, speckled with streaks and patches of dark chestnut that gleam rosy in the sunlight. Its eyes are the same unnatural amber as the other wolf's, but the way that they bore into you are oddly akin to that of a puppy.

You don't move when they come close enough that they're within reach, allowing them to move at their own pace. You're not left waiting long, though, before the smaller one trots closer, hesitation forgotten.

"Oh!" You're taken aback when it leans forward suddenly, shoving its massive, inky head against your shoulder with such strength you almost fall back, were it not for the other wolf flopping down behind you and supporting you with its massive form. Ordinarily you'd be worried you're about to be torn to pieces, especially when faced with its massive maw and large teeth, but when it rubs its head against you with a soft whine sounding from the back of its throat, you know it doesn't mean you any harm.

"Oh, you're a cute one," you murmur distractedly, allowing your hands to rise and sink into its fur. It brushes like silk against your skin, and the wolf is so pleased that it simply flops down against you, resting it's head in your lap and pushing it against your stomach.

Something lights up in you, something warm like you've settled close to the glow of a campfire and the heat is sinking into your bones. You're content, so content, and you don't even know why? But oddly enough, in this moment you're not really bothered by that.

Right as you begin to settle back into the warmth and the rhythmic lull of their breathing as they rest against you, something niggles in the back of your brain-- a shard of familiarity, do you know these wolves? How would you know these wolves?

"Who are you?" you find yourself mumbling tiredly, the world around you beginning to shrink back until your brain is only aware of you and the warmth pressed against you.

The wolf in your lap turns its head so that its large eyes are boring into your own. It's still, tail thumping once against the ground, but something stirs in the back of your brain at his gaze. Recognition that filters like sunlight onto little pieces of information in your brain until they merge into something coherent.

It dawns on you with a soft gasp-- you know them, you do. They're--

x - x - x

"Rise and shine, buttercup! I'm sick of having to silence your alarms for you! If you don't get up this time I can and will take photos of your sleeping face! You know, with your mouth all open and drool on your pillow--"

A groan escapes you that you don't quite recognise as a sound you can make, your eyes cracking open to the sight of your roommate's bright, grinning face very close to your own. The first conscious thought to cross your brain is that she does, in fact, look very punchable right now, bending over just so she can hover her face in front of your own with that shit-eating grin.

"Jihyo go away," you slur, sleep still having a very firm grasp on your brain and vocal cords. You slam your face into the pillow, yanking the duvet over your head. Your peace lasts all of 0.03 seconds before your demon of a roommate yanks the cover almost entirely off your bed, revealing your curled form to the cool air and making you whine.

"Why?" you whine, clutching the dinosaur pillow in your hold closer to your chest. "L'me sleep..."

"Nope, nuh-uh," Jihyo moves over to give you a firm smack on the ass, making you yelp and jerk out of your sleepy haze so harshly that you almost fall off the bed. Ow! "I snoozed your alarm for you five times this morning, buttercup. No more! Get up."

"Jihyo," you whine, giving her an accusing look over your shoulder as you rub your stinging behind. "You didn't even hit me where my skin was covered, you cow."

The girl simply shrugs, hands on her hips as she decides that her work here is done and begins to make her way to the door. "That's on you for wearing shorts to bed in autumn, bub. Anyway, you really do have to get up because it's like, what, nine-thirty? And you have a class at ten, so..."

At first you simply blink, her words ringing in your ears but not really sinking in, until they suddenly do and you're leaping from your bed with a yelp.

"Jihyo!"

She cackles, the absolute madwoman, and promptly exits your room. "Better hurry, buttercup!"

At her departure you fly into a panicked rush to get ready, darting around your room and grabbing things at the speed of light. You don't have time to dwell on the contents of the dream you'd been having before you were so rudely awoken, and as you fling yourself around your apartment the remaining slivers you remember of it slip from your brain and out of your grasp until the next time.

x - x - x

Regrettably, all your rushing didn't help you earlier; you still arrived late to class. Your only saving grace is that it was a lecture instead of an actual class, and the professor had been playing a video for the cohort when you arrived and so the lights had been conveniently dimmed for you to slip right in to the back unnoticed.

It actually ended only a few minutes ago, and now you find yourself walking distractedly on the way to your next class, mind lost in all the thoughts you didn't have time to entertain this morning. Fleetingly, the dream flicks through your mind-- what's left in your memory of it, anyway. You can barely conjure any of the details, or even what the two wolves looked like in whole, but the feeling it left behind lingers still in the pit of your abdomen.

You don't understand it. You've been having this dream almost every night for the past week, aside from the nights where you got too little sleep to remember your dreams. Ever since that night when Taehyung and Jimin dragged you to their packhouse, each night has greeted you with the same dream of two wolves in some meadow and you don't know why. Were they that impressionable? Were you so wowed by the sight of the wolves racing that you committed it to your memory subconsciously? Maybe… it’s a possible reason, but it doesn't feel like the reason.

It started as something small, but as the week progressed there was something, a feeling, a sensation, that grew inside you until it stirred restlessly beneath your skin, like now. You're not sure what it is. You feel like you need to be on the move, like there's somewhere you need to be, or you're forgetting something. But you've checked, and you haven't forgotten something, there's nowhere else you're meant to be. So this feeling stirring around your navel... you don't know what to do about it.

Then again, you ponder as you approach the building that holds your next class, perhaps it's just the weird feeling the dreams have been leaving you with that has been making you feel so odd and on edge.

When you enter, your attention is surprisingly not immediately captured by two particular loud men as it usually is the second you step foot in the room. Thanks to their annoyingly sharp senses, the two of them can usually smell you coming before you even reach the door. Admittedly, you're not sure if you're ever going to get used to being told that you have a smell, even if it's not in the usual insulting way. Something you're just going to have to get used to, though, considering you attend a university alongside many supernaturals, two of which are some of your closest friends.

Despite the fact that you weren't accosted upon entry this time, unlike how you usually are, the two boys you begrudgingly call friends are here, seated towards the back of the room. You wonder what stopped them from performing their usual ritual of behaviour as you approach them, but the answer comes to you when you see the light frowns on their faces and the slight bags under their eyes.

"Woah," you remark, taking a seat at the rounded table next to Jimin-- they start slightly at your appearance, ringing some alarm bells in the back of your mind. "You two look like shit. Are you okay?"

Taehyung makes a face, and Jimin gives you a smile that comes out more like a wince.

"We're fine," he says, reaching up to scrub his face with a hand. "Just... a little tired."

You tilt you head, wondering if they're going to tell you why of their own accord or if you're going to have to dig and drag it out of them. Taehyung must recognise the look on your face, because he's letting out a little huff of a laugh and enlightening you in the next moment.

"It's just... some of the members of our pack," he says, yawning. Your mouth falls open in realisation; ah, so it's a wolf thing. You're even more curious now, though. You love learning more about the creatures that walk among the population— plus, they're your friends so you feel like you should learn as much as you can about them.

"Are they causing trouble?" you ask, remembering the events of the other night with an odd shiver that isn't quite anything you can name.

Both males let out a laugh, quietening only as the tutor enters the room and lets out a greeting. Today's class isn't too interactive though, and for the majority of it you're left to your own devices to complete work at your own pace. As soon as the tutor is done telling you all the agenda, Jimin is speaking quietly from next to you.

"It's not that they're causing trouble," he says, tone soft and airy. You like his voice a lot, Taehyung's too— actually, from what you can remember, every single member of the pack had a nice voice. Is it a werewolf requirement or something? Jimin's dark eyes flit from the teacher to you, mouth twisting as though he's trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say next. "It's just that..."

"You know a little bit about wolves, and the hierarchy that runs in packs, right?" Taehyung continues in Jimin's place, blinking at you. You nod, holding your hand up to gesture that your knowledge is so-so at best. "Well, within a pack there are the usual ones you've probably heard-- the alpha, the betas, omegas."

"Ah, yeah, I've heard about that," you say, unable to help the way you lean forward in interest. Taehyung smiles wryly.

"Well, there's a little more to it than that. In our pack, Jiminie and I are deltas," he hums gaze flicking upwards as he ponders how to proceed. "So our role, when we fall back into our dynamics, is largely watching territory, but it also includes taking care of ill and wounded members of the pack."

"Two of the members are sick," Jimin says, turning to you a split second later. "The two that bowled you over, actually."

"Oh," you say, recalling the handsome faces of the two wolves that had inadvertently caused your drink to end up on you and you on the ground that night. "So, they're sick and you've been looking after them? So you're tired? They should be okay though, right? I mean, you're wolves. You bounce back quickly."

The two males share a look before turning back to you, voices still hushed so that you don't draw your tutor over to where the three of you are, most definitely not doing the work assigned.

"That's just the thing, though," Jimin says, a troubled expression crossing his features. "We're wolves, we don't really get sick. The only kind of sickness that gets us is a flu that has mutated from another supernatural creature, but even so... they should have been better by now."

"It's like they just keep slowly getting worse," Taehyung says, frowning. "Jiminie and I are running ourselves into the ground trying to keep up and monitor them. We just can't figure out what's wrong to get on top of it."

"Oh," you say, an unknown feeling welling up inside you. It's something like longing, with a certain twist of urgency. You don't know what drives you to say what you did next. "Well, uh... is there anything I can do to help? You guys look exhausted."

"You wouldn't mind?" Jimin asks, sounding surprised. "Even after the other night? I know it must have been scary."

"Well, I mean, a little bit," you admit, scratching the back of your neck. "But it was also cool as hell. Your wolf forms are so awesome, I kind of wish I got to see it sooner."

"You haven't even seen ours!" Taehyung says, a little louder than intended. When the three of you look up to catch the tutor giving you the stink-eye, you bow your heads and remain silent for a while to get him off your backs.

"For real though," Jimin says a while later, hand still scribbling answers to the activity even as he talks softly. "If you're serious about wanting to help, we'd really appreciate it. The others are all caught up with either schoolwork or other obligations so it's been a little exhausting."

"I don't mind," you say, offering the two a brief smile before going back to pretending to work. "I'm happy to help. Plus... I feel a little bad that I didn't get introduced to them properly, you know?"

Taehyung snorts softly, grinning down at the table. "Yeah, that's true. Thanks, y/n."

You offer him another smile, hoping that they can't sense the way your gut flutters and churns with an unnamed feeling. "Of course."

x - x - x

When you offered to give Taehyung and Jimin a hand with looking after their sick packmates, you were expecting to be making soup or something for them to take over. You weren’t, as it happens, expecting for the two of them to rock up at 6PM while you’re in the middle of a belated cardio workout (which was only happening because you have schoolwork that you were procrastinating at the time) to grab you and drag you back over to their pack dorm to actually, physically help out.

“Why is it every time I come here, I’m always being dragged?” you question, hints of a whine to your voice. They hadn’t even let you change! You’re still in your workout gear, which, granted, consists of just a singlet and tight, ankle-length exercise pants, and isn’t that risqué—but still! The weather is getting colder these days and so are you, right now! If it weren’t for the absolute furnace that is their body temperature and the heat of their hands on your arms, you think you’d be shivering.

“You’ve only been here twice, and this is the second time,” Jimin says dismissively, hand gripping your arm as he leads you up the stairs to their front door. You have a funny feeling in your gut that you can’t quite pin, similar to the last time you were here, but now you don’t even have time to dwell on it before you’re thrown into the pack dorm once more.

It’s much tidier than it was last time.

You’re taken aback by how clean and, well…spacious it is, now that there’s not drunk adolescent bodies crammed everywhere. It’s a very modern layout, as you noticed last time, and tastefully decorated. From what Jimin and Taehyung told you, most of the bedrooms are upstairs and the lowest floor contains most amenities like the kitchen, gym room, etcetera…

The door closes with a resounding thud behind you, and there is a call from beyond the hallway, where you recall the kitchen to be. You don’t think you recognise the voice, though.

“Tae, Jiminie, you’re back!” There is a pause, and something that sounds suspiciously like a sniff. Suddenly, you’re mortified to be the only human here again. “…Who do you have with you?”

Before you’re anywhere near composed enough to be meeting another member of their pack, the two devious bastards are pushing you forwards and around the corner, into the kitchen once more. You have a very sudden, terrible flashback to the last time you were in this kitchen and on instinct you’re scanning the room for a familiar raven-haired male.

To your relief, Yoongi isn’t anywhere to be seen—there is someone at the kitchen counter though, someone that you don’t recognise at all. You freeze, offering a sheepish grin as the two wolves you somehow call your friends hold you in place. Like you could even attempt to get away anyway.

The new figure is taller than Jimin, but not taller than Taehyung. His hair is dark, cherry red, but you can spy some regrowth coming through at the roots, and before you even see the rest of his face you can tell from his eyes and the creases at their ends that this man smiles a lot. You’re proven right when he easily returns the smile you’d flashed him earlier, shooting it at you like a sunbeam. It almost, honest to god, disorients you where you stand.

“Hey Hobi,” Taehyung greets, grinning brightly. “This is y/n, we brought her around at the last party but you were, ah… previously occupied.”

The man before you has the decency to flush slightly, a sheepish grin tugging his lips. You’ve never seen a heart-shaped smile before now, but you’re glad this attractive man was the first one to show you the light.

“Ah… right.” He chuckles, before placing the bowl in his arms onto the counter and offering you a hand. “Sorry to have missed introductions, especially when Tae and Jiminie talk so much about you! I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi, or Hope if you’d like.”

Hope. It clicks together in your head and your own face flushes as you recall last time when they said he, Hope, was off practicing the karma sutra with someone. Mortified that you recalled that tidbit now of all times, you push it from your brain and try to focus on the other things he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand. You can’t help the way you grumble after though, giving Jimin and Taehyung a glare. “And I hope they haven’t talked too much. Every time I’ve heard them tell one of you about me, it’s always something humiliating.”

“Oh, like being caught watching Ouran Host Club in your lecture?” Hoseok asks, head tilting slightly as he picks the bowl back up. You wince instinctively, and he laughs. It doesn’t get any less humiliating every time you hear it.

“Yup,” you say, feeling very much like you wished you hadn’t agreed to help at all. “Something like that.”

He smiles, but thankfully doesn’t tease you further. Instead, he turns his attention to the two boys beside you.

“What did you bring her for?” he asks, curiosity the only thing you can identify in his tone. Jimin wastes no time in sealing your fate.

“She offered to help when we told her Kookie and Jin were sick!” he says, smacking your shoulder like a proud parent. It was almost a little too hard, and you cough slightly from the impact. Taehyung rubs a soothing hand over the place of impact, giving his brother a look. “So we brought her over, since the others can’t stay and you’re the only one that can run classes at the studio right now.”

Hoseok’s mouth forms an ‘o’, dark eyes flicking to you in surprise. “Oh, that’s very kind of you,” he remarks, flashing you another billion-watt smile. “Thank you, for that. We’re not usually this hopeless at caring for ourselves but one of the ones that’s sick is the one that usually cares for us so… we’ve kind of been running around like headless chickens, heh.”

You shrug, finally feeling a little more settled and a little less like you’d like to flee at the first available opportunity. You’re still very keenly aware of the fact that this is only the second—and first, in Hoseok’s case—time meeting these people, and it’s therefore a little awkward for you. But, to their credit, the way they’re just taking it in stride is really helping you feel less out of place.

Even though technically you hadn’t even planned on coming anywhere near here….

“It’s no problem,” you say, unsure how else to receive his words. He’s still smiling, though, so you’re guessing that he wouldn’t have been too bothered however you answered.

“How are they?” Taehyung asks, soft baritone brushing the air. There’s palpable concern in his voice, and when you glance his way his expression confirms it.

“Well,” Hoseok says, placing the bowl down on the counter again, except with a little more oomph this time. You’re beginning to grow curious as to what exactly is in there. “They’re not any better, but they’re not exactly any worse, either, so… I’m not sure how to answer. Although—”

He smacks his hand onto the counter, a wooden clatter following from the spoon in his grasp, and your eyes widen at the light gashes on the back of his hand. They’re open but not bleeding, as though they’re in the midst of healing, but they look like they were deep at some point. “—Jin has been getting a bit of an attitude, so it’s probably for the best that you brought her. The two of you are going to have to deal with him; she can deal with Kookie, if she needs to. He’s just been sulky.”

“Jin got an attitude?!” Jimin sounds incredulous, and you figure that whichever one is Jin mustn’t normally kick up much of a fuss if he’s reacting like that to the information. “What, why? Did one of you step on his paw again?”

For a moment, you think it’s just a figure of speech, like a wolf thing, but then Hoseok huffs and grumbles, rolling his eyes. “No! That was only once! No one went near his stupid paws this time. He’s been shifted ever since he started feeling sick but he’s only just started getting snappy. He’s a little testy right now… it’s why I was down here, making him stupid treats because he can’t eat human desserts in this form.”

Wait, so both of them… are wolves right now? You’re suddenly a little nervous, but do your best not to show it—somehow, despite the fact their senses are so much more advanced than yours and usually you’d be instantly found out, they’re a little too distracted with the issue currently on their hands to notice.

As though he can hear the slander being thrown around on the floors below him, there is a sudden long, muffled howl that pierces the air—the sound is weaker than you’d expect but still startles you, making you jump. As it ends, it’s followed by a thump and a series of thunks and rattles, like something had been knocked off a shelf. Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you put the pieces together and realise that must have been the wolf in question.

Jimin is wincing, reaching to take the bowl and spoon into his hands. “Uh, okay—we’ll keep an eye on him, and I’ll finish making his, uh… his scooby snacks. You can get going, I know you have a class ready to start in, like, ten minutes.”

Hoseok shoots his packmate a thankful look, more being said with his eyes than you’re privy to as a complete stranger. Now he’s relieved of his duties for the night,

“Thank you,” he says, passing Jimin the whisk that lay discarded at the other end of the bench. You then watch as he moves around the counter to grab what you quickly realise is a gym bag from its perch on the table. You half expect him to wave and then be on his way, but he halts partway towards the door, something on the tip of his tongue.

“If they don’t get better…” he trails off, brows furrowed. It’s in this moment that it really sinks in for you that their packmates must be quite sick for them to be so concerned, and you feel bad that you regretted being dragged here earlier. Jimin and Taehyung are your friends and they need help caring for their pack, their family. You feel crummy for opposing it even a little bit.

Hoseok shakes his head, brows furrowing further. “No, even if they do start to get better—I think we should call the Head Healer. This isn’t normal, and whether its some supernatural flu or something else I think they should know. I’ll tell Yoongi to call his dad, but be prepared to tell him in case he forgets.”

The two males beside you nod, Jimin’s orange locks bouncing from the fervour with which he did so.

“Will do,” Taehyung affirms, nodding towards the redhead. “We’ll take care of them in the meantime.”

Hoseok nods, expression lightening for a fraction of a second. His gaze is soon flitting back to you, a smile that makes your heart skip a beat on his lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he declares politely, even if the gleam in his eye is anything but. It takes all of your willpower to keep a straight face. “I’d love to get to know you a little more sometime—”

“YAH get out of here you slimy—” Jimin is huffing suddenly, red-faced and outraged, waving his arms before darting forward to chase his packmate out. “Don’t speak to her like that! She’s off-limits! Do not put your dirty whore hands anywhere near—”

The two of them disappear around the corner, but the sound of Hoseok’s cackling and Jimin’s indignant yells reach you loud and clear anyway. As Jimin sees his packmate off at the door, Taehyung picks up the bowl and resumes where Hoseok left off, and you’re left wondering just how this night is going to go with two massive wolves upstairs needing to be cared for.

x – x

“Okay, so… here’s the plan.”

You listen attentively, fidgeting on the spot and wishing not for the first time that these two idiots had let you change before dragging you here to help out. The sweat has made your head itchy, and you’re trying so hard not to scratch it that you feel your hands trembling. Thankfully, the two wolves beside you remain none the wiser to your inner turmoil and the occasional stink-eye you throw their way.

“Me and Jiminie are gonna go deal with Jin-hyung,” Taehyung says, pausing as a loud thump echoes from the floor above. The three of you are standing at the foot of the stairs, and had been about to go up before the taller man halted you all to make a game-plan. “It… seems like it’s gonna be a two person job. I don’t know what his problem is…?”

He looks to the side to Jimin as he trails off, but his friend merely shrugs, no closer to knowing the source of his packmate’s behaviour than he is. Taehyung huffs, turning to you. “And you can handle Kookie. Just take his food up for him, apparently he’s just been sulky and he’s not aggressive in wolf or human form so you shouldn’t have anything to be worried about.”

You nod as he hands you a bowl of cooked and seasoned meat that makes even your mouth water from the aroma wafting with steam into the air. “Great. That really comforts me, thank you.”

Taehyung grins and Jimin rolls his eyes. “If he allows it, could you check his temperature when you go up there? I know we usually run hot, but we’ve noticed that with whatever sickness this is their temperatures fluctuate a lot. It’ll be really helpful if you can just tell us whether he’s warm or cold.”

You nod again, Jimin appearing satisfied with his instruction. Taehyung throws his hand in the air, almost dislodging the bowl in his hold as he does so. “Alright! Autobots, roll out!”

You simply turn to go up the stairs first, already hearing Jimin deliver his packmate with a firm whack for being an idiot. You reach the top of the stairs and pause, eyes sweeping across the hallway and the abundance of closed doors with little or no distinguishing characteristics. Well, shit.

“Last door on the right, y/n!”

Perfect. Off you go.

As you approach the end of the hallway, another door opposite the one you’re heading towards, the feeling that has been sitting dormant in your abdomen suddenly stirs to life. The tugging around your navel is more persistent than ever, leaving you confused and a little disoriented as you finally reach the last door on the right. To your surprise, there is a shuffling sound from the door opposite, on the left side of the hall, and a low, baleful whine that reaches you through the wood and makes your heart drop and clench. You don’t think you’ve ever reacted so strongly to, well, anything before.

Shaking your head and hearing the other two follow behind you in the hall, you grasp the doorknob of the door you’ve been directed to and ease it open, slipping inside as quietly as possible before closing it behind you. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself and attempt to smother the quickened pace of your heart before it’s beating gets too loud, you slowly look up from the door handle and survey the rest of the room.

It’s chic, a stylish combination of white and various cool greys across the room. The window is open but the dark curtains drawn, the breeze ruffling them ever so slightly and making you shiver as it reaches you from across the room. It’s nice, you admit to yourself, momentarily forgetting why you’re there. You’re quickly reminded once more, however, at the sight of the massive furry lump sprawled across the queen-sized bed. The main overhead light isn’t on, but the bedside lamps are and it’s enough to illuminate the wolf left in your care for the time being. There’s something about him that tickles familiarity in the back of your mind as you survey his form; his coat is a sleek mixture of ink and charcoal, fur illuminated dark chestnut where it falls beneath the light. You can’t quite put your finger on why you feel something stir inside you at the sight of him, this massive wolf sprawled across the bed, and for the time being you decide to give up on attempting to understand it.

Adjusting your hold on the bowl in your hands, you move closer to the bed, unable to help the way you keep admiring this wolf’s majestic form even as he faces away from you. You know this one is the member called Jungkook, but you can’t quite put a human face to the name to recall which wolf it was that bowled you over a week ago.

Initially, you thought that he might have been asleep, but as you grow closer to the bed you hear the softest whimper enter the air, followed by a thin whine. You freeze, looking up just in time to see a large, heavy-lidded, amber eye watching you move. Distantly, you realise that this is the sort of sight that should be making you freeze in fear. Instead, the only thing you feel is something odd and foreign, curling warmly in the pit of your abdomen. You’re not sure what to do with it, and to be honest it gives you pause.

“Uh, hey,” you say softly, feeling a little awkward. The wolf gives a huff, blinking his large eye somewhat owlishly—while he didn’t seem to really see you earlier, he appears to be registering your appearance now. “We’ve met before… I’m Taehyung and Jimin’s friend. They said that you guys were sick so I offered to help out…”

The wolf shuffles in place, looking a little more alert. Thankfully, as Taehyung had promised, he doesn’t seem aggressive or anything like that. Actually, he seems about the opposite—as he rises to a slightly more elevated position on the bed, now facing you, he lets out another long, low whine. It makes your insides clench with something like sympathy. You place the bowl where he can reach it and immediately the wolf starts devouring his meal.

There is a sudden yowl that pierces through the walls and makes you jump, but the wolf before you couldn’t be more unbothered. In the blink of an eye the bowl is emptied and licked clean, the wolf’s massive head lifting to pin you with a look that seems to say ‘what next?’. You move the bowl so it isn’t tipped, placing it on the bedside table next to a black Nintendo Switch console there. Before you can flounder too much, you recall Jimin’s instructions from earlier.

“Oh, I need to check your temperature, as well…” you inform him, still speaking softly. There is a bit of a commotion from beyond the bedroom door and you think you hear Taehyung holler something stupid, but can’t be sure. You decide to ignore it.

Tentatively, you reach your hand up, simply going for the wolf’s forehead or the closest thing to it. To your surprise, despite the minute nod that the wolf had offered you just before, now he seems to be moving his head just out of reach every time you come close. There’s a peculiar gleam in his big puppy eyes that you can’t quite decipher, almost something sly as you continue attempting to place the back of your hand against his head. His relentless shifting ends up with you leaning over the bed to reach him, and you realise a little too late just how unstable you are. Finally, he allows you to place your hand against his head, but it lasts for barely a second before the bed is shifting suddenly and then you’re falling onto the mattress with an ‘oof!’.

The wolf huffs, a massive arm laying over your hips and his head flopped down on your chest just below your breasts. You can feel your face heat in a combination of embarrassment, confusion, and fluster. For a moment, you’re too stunned to even move.

“What are you—” you can’t even finish a full sentence, you’re so flustered. “I only need to take your temperature! Let me up, please—”

You attempt to move, or even prop yourself on your elbows, and the wolf whimpers, pitifully, more of his weight bearing down on you. You pause before trying again and receiving the same reaction, this time with a mournful whine tacked onto the end.

“You’re a big baby,” you find yourself saying, tone much closer to exasperated scolding than you might have expected. “Are you really not gonna let me up?”

In response, you receive a huff and an adjustment of the wolf’s hold on you that makes it even more difficult for you to get up from the bed, his massive paw pressing into the mattress on the other side of you. When you let out a heavy sigh, he whimpers and butts his head against you, the action oddly affectionate.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, staring at the ceiling and wondering what on earth has just happened in the past few minutes. Since you can do nothing else, you take the opportunity to finally touch his forehead and take his temperature. He’s a little cool, but oddly doesn’t stay that way; it’s like you can feel him warming beneath your hand.

Really, you’re pretty much trapped right now. You’re not as scared as one might think you would be, and you don’t really know what you’re feeling in response to the situation. You do know that something flips and flutters inside you every time you move and you hear him whimper, or whine and snuggle closer. This wolf is almost the size of a bear and is snuggling all over you like a teacup puppy.

You’re not sure how long you lay in spot before your two idiot friends finally realise you’ve been gone a little too long for the menial tasks you were given and come knocking. The creak of the door easing open makes you jump slightly in surprise and the hackles on the wolf to raise ever so slightly.

“y/n, what is taking you so l—oh. Oh my gosh.”

Your head whips in the direction of the door, and a pleading look is already on your face before you can even think to muster it. Taehyung and Jimin stand stock still in the doorway, faces portraying an almost comical amount of shock. Jimin squints, rubbing his eyes as though he’s making sure he’s really seeing what he’s seeing. “Uh… what happened here?”

“He won’t let me up,” you grumble, face on fire. This is humiliating. The wolf huffs, like he’s talking back to you, and both Taehyung and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s sneaky. I just tried to take his temperature and….”

“Oh, right,” Jimin says, blinking rapidly. “How is it?”

“A little cold, but each time I check he gets warmer,” you inform him, the distant hilarity of the situation not lost on you as you calmly discuss the health and wellbeing of the wolf that currently has you pinned to his bed as a makeshift teddy bear. Jimin goes to take a step forward and a soft growl halts him mid-movement, the sound something you can feel rumbling from deep within the wolf’s chest.

“Jungkookie,” he scolds, gasping in affront. “Don’t be nasty.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung mumbles to himself, something cheeky and mischievous that spells absolute trouble glimmering in his eyes. “This is fantastic—just wait until you’re human again, Koo. You’re not gonna live this down.”

Unimpressed, you send them a glare—some of your limbs are starting to fall asleep, maybe they could try and help you get out? Catching the look you send them, the two men share their own, and you can safely say you don’t quite like the tone of it.

They better not leave you here.

x – x – x

The next day finds you sprawled on your bed, feeling dead to the world.

True to their historically goblin nature, your two best friends had indeed left you there.

You’d found out later that it was because they knew they’d only be able to slip you out from under the wolf when he fell asleep (because apparently once he’s out, he sleeps like the dead, no matter the form). But until such a time as they actually came and retrieved you from beneath their sick, clingy packmate, you were incredibly annoyed with them. It had taken about an hour or so for the wolf, Jungkook, to fall asleep—about halfway through that you’d subconsciously keyed into the same plan as them and had begun carding your hands through his fur in an attempt to lull him to sleep faster. It had worked, and you don’t want to think about how dead your limbs would be if the wolf had taken any longer to fall asleep.

In all, the ordeal was incredibly embarrassing and your only saving grace is that Taehyung and Jimin were too busy planning how to tease their youngest packmate to tease you. Which is lucky because, wolf or not, if they’d teased you then you might have killed them.

You didn’t get back until around midnight, since you’d stayed a bit longer to help Taehyung and Jimin cook and prepare some stuff in case the two wolves woke up worse. As soon as your head hat hit the pillow, you’d knocked right out. Shamefully, you slept so deep and long that you missed your alarm for your morning class and woke up closer to lunch, which is where you are now.

Laying in bed with aching eyes and wishing that you didn’t have another class in another two hours.

Jihyo hadn’t even questioned where you went for so long last night, but also hadn’t made a joke about you finally getting some so you figure she’s waiting to pounce on you later. You find she’s already left for the day, when you finally wrangle yourself from bed and attempt to resume life as a functioning human being. So you’re safe until at least this afternoon, when she finishes her shift at the university second-hand bookstore. You can probably remain safe for longer if you study at the library and come home when she goes to her pilates class.

You’re shamefully good at evading her, at this point. You’d feel bad if it wasn’t a skill you’d learnt for survival.

You took your time a little too much while getting ready for your class, and it made you run so late that for the time being even you completely forgot about the events of last night. Well, you did until you enter your classroom and are greeted by two loud hollers of your name. Honestly, do they have no shame? Do attractive people even feel shame?

“Shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly as you take your seat between them, resisting the urge to rub your eyes since you’d put on mascara earlier. One of many things that had almost made you late. “You’re so loud.”

You complain, but secretly you’re glad for the noise—it means they’re feeling better, and things must also be improving at the pack dorm. When you finally raise your eyes to survey their faces, you find them displaying an odd mix of emotions. Like they’re glad, relieved, but at the same time still concerned about something.

“So… how are things at the dorm?” you inquire tentatively, making the most of the time you have before your tutor arrives and begins the class; it seems you aren’t the only one running behind today.

Taehyung lets out a huff, resting his cheek in his hand with a wry smile. “Well, Jungkookie is much better. You must have a magic touch because he was up and back into his human form this morning. He wanted to go to his classes but Namjoon made him stay back because he’s still not completely better.”

“On the other hand,” Jimin continues, without the need of prompting. “Seokjin… well, it’s almost like he’s the same as before, slowly getting worse. We can’t figure out what is wrong with him and why his condition isn’t turning around like Jungkook’s is.”

Ah, now you understand their expressions. They look about as confused as you feel, too. It doesn’t leave you with a very good feeling, if they’re the experts in this area and even they’re stumped for an explanation.

“We got Yoongi to call his dad, though. I heard them on the phone before we left so I suppose we’ll hear what he recommends when we get back.”

You hum to acknowledge what he said, opening your mouth to respond but deciding against it when you see the tutor hurtle into the room, out of breath and frantic.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone! If you could please all open your books to this week’s chapter, I will begin with the slides in just a moment!”

x – x – x

Considering that what you’d heard from your two wolf friends was that one of their packmates was on the mend and the other less so, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from them. That proves to be the exact opposite of what happens, though.

At quarter to three in the morning, you’re woken to sharp, persistent banging on your front door—the kind that makes you scared that the door is actually going to break beneath the force of the blows raining down on it. You tear out of your bed and stumble down the hall to answer it, knowing that if Jihyo has to get up to do it she’s going to tear you a new asshole.

“WHAT?!” You snap, not even seeing properly through the bleariness in your eyes but knowing in your heart there’s only two people ballsy enough to come bust your door down at this hour in the morning. “Are you trying to get me killed?! Jihyo still hasn’t forgotten about the last time you came over and ruined her sleep!”

Jimin has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, but Taehyung simply looks distressed. “Look, I’m not gonna say I’m sorry because I’m not, but we really need you to come with us right now.”

You blink, reaching to rub your eyes and feeling a strand of your hair flop into your face in response. You just know it looks like something made at the hands of Jackson Pollock right now. “What? The hell? Do you mean?”

It’s Jimin’s airy tone that reaches you this time, lowering your hackles ever so slightly. “No, he’s lying, we are sorry, it’s just—it’s an emergency. Something happened and we need your help to test a… a theory, if you will.”

You stare at him, willing his words to make sense in your sleepy brain. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says; and then in the next second he reaches and grabs you around the waist, slinging you over his shoulder. “We just need you to come. Can you lock up so she doesn’t kill us, Jiminie?”

You’re too stunned to even say anything as you hear Jimin lock your front door behind you, Taehyung already beginning to move post-haste down the apartment building hallway with you over his shoulder. When you finally catch-up to the events of the current moment, you instantly curse the blonde man out. “Hey, what the fuck—I can walk! Put me down! Put me down or I’ll go straight back home!”

“No way,” Taehyung argues, already exiting the building with you in tow. “You’re just gonna go back no matter what, if I put you down. I saw that look in your eyes, the one you get when you’re about to slam the door in our faces. We really need you to come, y/n.”

You blink, trying to remember if you planned on closing the door in their faces. It was only a few moments ago, but you’re still half-asleep and can’t remember for the life of you. A part of you wishes to speak up and deny his words, but for however outraged you are right now you’re still attuned to the words he’s saying and the vocal cues that accompany his speech. It gives you pause, because he seems really, genuinely distressed right now.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

Jimin has since caught up to the two of you and is opening the car door, preparing the back seat for your entry—you haven’t seen this one before, so you presume it must belong to one of the older pack members. “It’s Jin-hyung and Kookie.”

“What?” Confusion combines with sleepiness to make you sound like the stupidest person on earth. “I thought they were getting better? Or at least Jungkook was—”

“We thought so too,” Taehyung says, finally putting you down and patting your head in a makeshift apology. You decide that killing him can wait for later.

“And then… tonight happened.”

As the two of them climb hurriedly into the car and buckle up to send you all on your way to the pack dorm, they fill you in on the events of the evening. While Jungkook had shown a marked improvement over the day, it was like a switch had flipped as soon as night fell and the moon emerged from below the horizon. He relapsed to a worse state than he was in last night, and Seokjin’s condition apparently worsened as well. Alarmed and not having a single idea what to do, they’d called in Yoongi’s father who had spent a large majority of the night attempting to diagnose them and prevent their condition from worsening. Only around half an hour ago had he put together a theory as to what was wrong with them, after all the pack members filled him in on everything they could.

“Wait so—Yoongi’s dad? The healer…?” you wait for their nods of confirmation before continuing. “He thinks it has something to do with me? Wait, if that’s the case should you even be bringing me back?! What if I make them worse again! God, I knew I shouldn’t have rocked up to the party last week…”

“No, well—I mean—” Jimin flounders for what to say, cutting himself off when he comes close to saying something and giving you the sense that there is another element to this that they’re not telling you. You have half a mind to demand to know, but you also recognise it could also be a wolf thing that you have no business knowing. “Don’t worry, if the head healer of our pack is calling you back, it’s not because he thinks you’re the thing making them sick.”

That does ease you, admittedly. Just a bit. You yawn, catching movement outside your window and realising with a startle that you’re already at the pack dorm. Instantly, for reasons barely known to you, your stomach erupts into a live bundle of nerves. You’re so baffled by it that you don’t even notice as the car pulls to a stop and your door is being opened in the next second by a perplexed Jimin.

“Are you alright?”

You give him a stinky look to save face as you climb out of the car, pretending your legs aren’t wobbly. “You’re asking that now?”

At the attitude in your voice the expression of concern slips right off his face and he snorts, looping his arm through yours and dragging you up the path to the pack dorm for the third time in a week. “Oh good, you’re alright. Hurry up now, I can hear them howling like pups from here.”

You go to bite back with a response but pause, because the second you tune into your ears you can hear it too. It’s mournful, the way the howls pierce the air. Baleful, especially when paired with the scenery of the almost-full moon hanging above the trees. Again, you’re not scared, just oddly… nervous. As in, full of nerves. It’s as though there are a thousand bees buzzing in your abdomen, and the network of nerves and synapses in your body have turned to live wires beneath your skin, thrumming and prickling with energy.

What does your subconscious seem to know that you don’t?

The howls are amplified the second you enter the house and there is no longer several inches of thick wall muffling their piercing resonance. They seem to be upstairs once more, on the side of the house that you didn’t venture into last time. Now that you’re close enough, you can distinguish that it’s not only pitiful howls breaking the air, but soft whimpers and whines, as well. Something about it, the quality of the sounds brushing your ears, makes your eyes prick with tears. It’s almost like…. Grieving. Like they’re calling out for something or someone that isn’t coming.

“Wow, they’re somehow even louder than when we left,” Jimin remarks, already dragging you towards the stairs and beginning on the climb up. “For wolves that are so sick they sure do still have a pair of lungs on them.”

You’re too busy remembering the fact that you’re currently dressed in the same shorts and singlet combo you’ve been in all week, and that you’re in a house full of men (and wolves, but you digress) to offer a response. Your arrival at the top of the stairs brings you to the sight of a number of men at the end of the hall, gathered together and muttering amongst themselves. You recognise all but one, and figure that the unfamiliar older gentleman must be Yoongi’s father as you’d heard of him.

“We brought her,” Jimin announces, though you doubt it was very necessary since they could probably smell you coming from the driveway. “Are they doing any better?”

Yoongi leans around Namjoon to deliver the younger with a deadpan look. “Listen for yourself.”

Right on cue, there is another round of pitiful howling, the noise tugging at something deep inside you. Why did it make you want to go to them? Are your instincts broken? That seems like a crazy reaction to have. Perhaps you should go get yourself checked out after this ordeal, though you’re unsure which professional you should be seeking out.

Jimin winces. “Alright. So they’re not doing much better at all.”

The new character, Yoongi’s dad, steps forward and reaches out to shake your hand. “Hello, you must be y/n. I’m Yunho, the Head Healer of this pack. I’m so sorry to have brought you out here at such a late hour.”

Now that everyone’s attention is on you, and Yunho looks so genuinely apologetic (you see the relation to Yoongi in the kind set of his features) you find your earlier anger at being awoken and dragged here fizzling out for good. Somewhat meekly, you manage to respond, “It’s fine. If I can help then I don’t mind at all.”

The older man smiles at your words, appreciation in his tone as he thanks you. “We’re really grateful, for that. Now, if you don’t mind, all I want you to do is just… go into the room with them.”

You blink, Taehyung and Jimin already having begun guiding (read: dragging) you to the room in question. “Pardon?”

Yunho seems slightly amused and sheepish. “I… have a theory, as to what is wrong with these two. I will inform you of everything after we test it out, but would you be able to go in, for now? Please?”

You’re not exactly in a position to refuse, not that you really want to anyway. As silly as it is, if going into the room where the wolves are is something that will somehow actually help them, then you’ll do it. Especially because you don’t think you can handle much more of their baleful howling—they seem miserable.

“Yeah, okay. Of course.” You shake your limbs out, shrugging your arms out of your friends’ grips and shooting them a glare for manhandling your again. They have the decency to appear slighty apologetic.

The entire pack in the hallway parts to let you through, like a sea of wolves. The room they direct you to is the one opposite of the one you went into last night, the one where the rowdy wolf that Jimin and Taehyung took care of had been. Taking a deep breath, you push the slightly ajar door open, biting your lip in anticipation of what you will see on the other side.

It’s a room similar in shape to Jungkook’s, but with blues and yellows mixed into the scheme of whites and greys. It is, put simply and as objectively as possible, a mess. You can see where things have been knocked off of shelves and desks, and some items (namely one of the bed posts) have been chewed up and left disfigured. It looks like a house with remnants of a temper tantrum from a puppy left alone too soon. They aren’t on the bed, which is oddly bare, and you see why a moment later when you catch sight of them huddled together on the floor, the size of small bears but shaking and whimpering so pathetically that you don’t feel even a shred of fear as you gaze upon them. A rumpled mixture of fluffy blankets and duvets are beneath them in a makeshift nest, some of them still attached to the bed and tucked underneath the end of the mattress.

You’re not sure what you expected when you stepped into the room, but it wasn’t for the two wolves to fall dead silent upon your arrival. You freeze, unsure how to proceed until there is a nudge at your back, and you turn over your shoulder to see Yunho giving you an encouraging look.

“Just go over to them, it will be okay. They won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t realise that was a fear you had until his words soothed it, and you take another deep breath to steel yourself before following his directions. You can’t tell whether the wolves are awake, or in that feverish place between sleep and waking, but the closer you get the less restless they seem and the less noises tumble from their jaws. Unsure what they want you to do when you reach the wolves, you turn back with a questioning look. Already, at the silence in the room, Yunho has a relieved look on his face. He makes a hand movement, gesturing for you to take a seat, and you see several heads pop around the doorframe to watch as you do so.

Blushing madly and pretending that you’re not as embarrassed as you are, you sink to your knees in front of the two wolves, eyes scanning over the one you hadn’t seen before today.

Seokjin, if you recall correctly; the eldest in the pack (well… this little subgroup of the larger pack, anyway), and the other wolf that bowled you over that day. A sense of familiarity washes over you as you view him, too, despite the fact you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in his wolf form before. His coat is sandy and light, caramel-hued in some places with accents of white around his eyes and front paws. Again, you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before, but you know deep down that you have. The same goes for Jungkook, who appears extra dark next to his lighter packmate. Each of their heads is larger, broader than one of your thighs, something you become acutely aware of as you shuffle closer on your knees. Two barely-seeing sets of amber eyes watch your every movement.

Just when you go to look back and see what they want you to do next, there is shuffling from in front of you that captures your attention instead; a whimper escapes Jungkook, but Seokjin is the one that is moving, lifting his head and craning it forward until his moist nose skims your knee, sniffing tentatively. Whatever you smell like must confirm something for him, because in the next moment he’s letting out a low whine from the back of his throat and struggling forward, butting his head against you before rubbing the side of it along your thigh. You don’t have words to describe how hot your face is right now. Just when you think it can’t get any more embarrassing, the darker wolf gains a sudden burst of energy and lurches forward, snapping his teeth around the edge of your shorts leg and tugging lightly.

“Wh—” you don’t even have the brain space to finish whatever you were going to say, too busy shuffling forward and trying to make sure this wolf doesn’t pants you in front of the rest of the pack who are—as you confirm with an alarmed look over your shoulder—still watching everything unfold. The wolf, Jungkook, doesn’t stop tugging until you’re nestled deep between their two bodies, their temperatures rising each second you spend there, and as soon as he releases his teeth from the material of your shorts, Seokjin’s body is tilting and his head is coming to press against you and trap you in.

This is ridiculous. Is this actually happening? Are you not still at home, dreaming?

Your alarmed look is directed at the rest of the pack mates and Yunho once more, the older man letting out a sigh and wincing lightly. The rest of the members seem an odd mix of relieved and baffled. It does not soothe you one bit.

“Okay… y/n, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”

a/n: here it is! pls let me know what u think, feel free to come scream in my inbox and leave a like & reblog!! it means the world to me!! i might not always get to respond to all of them, but i do read every single one-- reread, even. thank u for reading this and for always supporting me! love u!! <3

1K notes · View notes

nejibaby · 4 years ago

Text

Afterglow

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Y/N

Summary: Without Ace, your nights are back to being long, dark, and empty. But when you finally reunite, Ace refuses to just be your Daylight.

Daylight - Part 1 | Afterglow - Part 2

Word Count: 4.3k (my hands slipped, I’m so sorry)

Loosely based on: Taylor Swift’s Lover album (but mostly about the songs Daylight and Afterglow)

A/N: I really think Whitebeard is a great father, yk? So I see him as someone who you can always seek and rely on. He looks tough (and he’s actually tough), but he’s soft too! And Ace too, in that respect is similar to WB. I really believe he’ll be such a good boyfriend 🥺 Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this so much! Thank you to everyone who read this, I love yall 🥰

Sailing by yourself in a boat for one reminds you how vast the sea actually is. With the rowdy Whitebeard pirates, sometimes the sea, no, the world, seems a lot smaller, a lot more manageable, but alone, it feels so massive it’s almost frightening.

It’s easy to get lost, except there’s no such concept like that for someone like you who doesn’t have a destination to go to in mind. Quite simply, you’re wandering, but not lost.

You drift from one island to another. Your initial intention is to get as far away as possible from the crew. Now that that’s achieved, you’re unsure of what to do next.

You allow yourself to observe and to experience some sort of normalcy at the islands you dock at. It’s a good thing that you don’t really stand out so no one suspects you’re a wanted pirate.

Walking down the streets of random towns, you’re reminded of how lonely being a Celestial Dragon was. No one wants to interact with a World Noble, afraid of the consequences if they’re angered. Things changed drastically when you became a pirate though. People don’t shy away that much with pirates in certain places. They interact with you, albeit hesitantly sometimes. Nevertheless, you felt so free and happy.

Now, you’re still a pirate, as marked by Whitebeard’s infamous tattoo. But with the unsuspecting townspeople and the lack of the presence of a crew, you don’t feel like one. Somehow it makes you feel empty.

The void is immeasurable. Despite it being unbounded, you’re sure that a single person can fill that emptiness: Portgas D. Ace.

But there are oceans separating you from Ace— a distance that you put. With the space between you, there’s silence in your voyage, however, it’s quite mystifying how every island you reach seems to scream his name.

There’s an island where you’ve docked at that’s snowing all year long. It brought back memories of when you were fairly new to the Whitebeard Pirates and had landed on a similar island. Back then you’ve worn a coat as you disembarked Moby Dick, however, the cold continued to seep through your layers of clothing. You couldn’t handle extreme temperatures that well but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so you continued to walk alongside the crew to scout the area. The thing was you may have been terrible at hiding it because Ace noticed the way your body was shivering and your teeth chattering. You were only acquaintances back then but he went to your side and striked a conversation with you. You didn’t understand why you became comfortable when he approached you all of a sudden, but then later that night you realized that he used his devil fruit abilities to warm you up.

At one island with a bustling town, there’s this restaurant that serves a variety of meat. You’re reminded of Ace and his bottomless pit of a stomach, and of his narcoleptic episodes while eating. He has a tendency of eating and then running, and the first few times he did it with you had you reeling. When you’ve finally realized that he’s never going to change, you start to keep a pouch of gold coins with you, reserved for paying for the food he eats. You leave it on the table just as Ace pulls you to run, and he has no idea about it. Owners or servers at the restaurants would still follow you out, but not to berate the both of you for not paying but to return the extra gold coins because you pay too much. Like usual though, Ace pretends not to hear them and they never got to catch up with you and Ace.

On another island, there’s a huge wild boar thrice the size of a human. It reminded you of the time you got so excited to explore an island that you speedily ran towards the forest alone, only to be met by a wild boar. The size of the boar stunned you and its glare kept you frozen in fear. A loud scream escaped your lips when it lunged at you, except the impact never came. When you’ve gathered your bearings, the wild boar was dead and… cooked, courtesy of Ace’s devil fruit abilities. He saved you, but he played it off as if he had his eyes on the wild boar since the beginning “to hunt it down.”

The current island you’re at is in famine. As soon as you docked at their port, a group of men has drawn their swords at you. For a moment, you thought they were bounty hunters so you grabbed your daggers and took a defensive stance. However, from the way they keep looking back and forth to you and your boat, and from hearing the faint sound of their stomach grumbling, you can tell they aren’t. Behind some trees, you can see the heads of some children peeking with worried yet hopeful looks on their faces.

Slowly, you raise your hands up in surrender, dropping your daggers in the process. You can’t turn your back on them — figuratively and literally — so you walk backwards towards your boat. The men look at you curiously but they don’t ever lower their swords.

In a quick motion, you grab a bag containing all of your food supply and throw it at them. One of the men catches it. “You can have them. It isn’t much, but that’s all I have.”

The man who was able to catch the bag carefully opens it and sees food. He almost cries at the sight of it. The rest of the men lowers the sword after you offer no sign of aggression. They start calling the other citizens of the area afterwards.

The children are the first to come running towards the men — all of them conveying excitement. You couldn’t tell how long they haven’t eaten but judging from how thin they are, it has got to be quite some time.

A small girl stumbles and falls near you and you quickly come to her aid. There isn’t much damage, just a scraped knee so you carefully patched her up.

“Thank you,” she gives you a toothy smile and then starts heading to the men who are distributing the food.

She comes back a moment later, arms outstretched to hand an apple to you. “For you,” she says.

Something blossoms in your heart because of her sweetness. “Thank you, but it’s fine, you can have it,”

She doesn’t object but then she hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much.”

Surprisingly, even on an island like this, you’re reminded of Ace. You remember his story about coming to Wano and meeting a child named “Tama” who seemed to be as charming as the child you helped and is under the same fortune.

Now that your mind has drifted to thoughts of Ace, you didn’t want to think of anything else. Even as the people gather around you to offer their thanks, and even as they usher you to a bonfire to celebrate for the food to eat, the thoughts of him linger in your head.

And just like in all the previous islands you came to, you wish he’s here with you too.

There’s longing in your heart, but there’s also something else— something pleasant that you can’t quite describe— and you attribute it to the gratitude of the people.

The mother of the child you helped, Sito, offers their spare room for you to take and you graciously accept. Soft snores almost immediately fill your ears after a few minutes of them bidding you good night.

The longer you stay awake, however, the pleasant feeling you felt a while ago starts to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You’ve always criticized yourself for not being able to do more when you were still a Celestial Dragon but now that you did something good, you start to feel selfish for doing it because it makes you feel better about yourself.

It’s at times like this that you seek Pops. There’s a sudden urge to hear his voice and his thoughts. So you grab your Den Den Mushi, but you hesitate.

You’ve lost track of the days since you left Moby Dick. And in that time frame, you never once called Pops. Although you didn’t really promise to call, maybe he was expecting you to, especially since you know he wouldn’t do it first.

You sigh. Maybe this call is long overdue after all.

You step outside the house and start to contact Pops using the Den Den Mushi. It only rings once and then it’s answered, almost as if Pops was waiting by the Den Den Mushi. The thought brings a smile to your face. “Pops—”

“Why on earth are you only calling now?!” His angry tone welcomes you.

“I’m so—”

“Is that Y/N?!” Marco interrupts. Ah, how could you have forgotten? It’s at this time that Marco reports to Pops. “We’re so worried about you -yoi!”

You can hear sounds of struggling on the line and then there’s a loud smack followed by an even louder crash. There’s a moment of silence which makes you wonder what’s going on in the ship.

“Why didn’t you call earlier?!” Pops’ voice booms. “If you’re going to leave a Den Den Mushi, I’m going to expect your reports but I received none of that.”

“I’m sorry Pops. I have no excuse,” you sheepishly say.

“Everyone’s worried about you,” he pauses but then his voice rings louder once again, “Some are even outside my room trying to listen in on our conversation. But if they know better, they should leave us alone.” The sound of rushing footsteps could be heard in the background as Pops finishes his sentence.

You chuckle, imagining the crew eavesdropping. “How are you Pops?”

“I’m doing fine.”

“How’s everyone? How’s… uhm… Ace?”

“Everyone’s just missing you. You didn’t say goodbye after all,” he says. “I put Ace on a mission because he won’t stop pestering me about you. He won’t come back in a couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“He misses you a lot,” he sighs. “He strides to me everyday to demand your whereabouts. Each time I wouldn’t tell him but he never learns. Vista says he’s on his 56th attempt the other day.”

The brief image of Ace that your mind comes up with brings a small smile to your face.

“When are you coming back?” Whitebeard breaks your reverie.

“Ah, I’m not sure yet… It might take a while.”

He hums. “So how are you? Have you been eating well?”

“I’m doing fine, Pops. No one’s been coming after me yet so everything’s going well,” you respond. “But… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“There’s this island with people who haven’t eaten in so long so I gave them everything I have.” There’s a loud growl coming from Pops so you immediately continue your speech before he could scold you for doing such a thing. “I feel really good about what I did as they thanked me. But then the longer I thought about it, I started feeling ashamed because... wasn’t it selfish since I did it to make me feel better about myself? Then I started to wonder if it was wrong to do good things just because I wanted to be absolved of my parents’ sins. Was I wrong in doing this, Pops?”

“No, you did the right thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’re not an inherently bad person for getting paid in gratitude.”

“But…”

“Making yourself happy by making other people happy is how it’s meant to work. If one of your key motives to doing good things is to feel good, then you’re still doing something good and there’s nothing shameful about that.”

Hearing his words puts you at ease. You’re glad you called him. “Thank you, Pops. I’m sorry for worrying everyone there and for disrupting Marco’s report. I promise I’ll call more often from now on.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too. Where will you be headed next?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just going where the sea leads me.”

“Be careful.”

“You too, Pops,” and with that, you bid your goodbye and hang up.

By morning, you start preparing your things to leave. You didn’t want to stay for too long because you didn’t want to consume even a portion of the small amount of food they have.

Sito offers you to stay another night, worried that it would be uncomfortable to sleep on a boat. “You can stay one more day. There’s still enough food for us to share.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose,” you decline. “But do you mind if I ask what happened here?”

There’s sadness in her eyes, it was easy to tell the memory pained her, but she tells you everything anyway. “This island is one of the few lawless areas in the world, hence, it’s a place where pirates would dock at. A group of men once docked here and kidnapped the leaders of our town. They were sold off to be slaves, because apparently the Nobles like to enslave people of power…” Her words start to fade on you upon the mention of the World Nobles.

Anger flares up in your system immediately. How low can the Celestial Dragons go? It’s sickening to think that you share the same blood as them. It’s because of this revelation that something becomes clear in your mind.

Ever since leaving Moby Dick, you’re just wandering aimlessly. But after hearing Sito talk about this island, you’re finally sure of what your destination should be.

Sabaody Archipelago.

Specifically, the Human Auctioning House.

From the sudden fury that overwhelms you, not even the fear of being within arm’s reach of the Marines, and possibly dying, could stop you from going there.

It’s reckless and foolish, but isn’t this the reason you left Moby Dick that night— to face your nightmares instead of running away from them?

You listen politely as Sito explains everything else but her words enter and leave your ears without you having to comprehend them. Fortunately, she doesn’t notice your inattentiveness, probably because she wants to pour her frustrations out to a stranger.

You offer your sympathies to her and promise her you’d come back with your crew and help them some more. It’s a simple promise yet for someone who hasn’t been offered help for so long, it means a lot, enough to even bring tears to her eyes. And just like that, you leave.

There are two more islands to stop at before you reach Sabaody Archipelago. You gather provisions on one island and buy explosives on the other.

The only thing you’re sure you can actually do alone is to blow up the Human Auctioning House. Facing the World Nobles is for another time, unfortunately. As for the Marines, well… You’d worry about that if they indeed come. You know you’d be able to handle them as long as they don’t send an Admiral after you.

The thing that worries you the most, however, is Pops’ reaction once you let him know of your plan. While you can always just not tell him, it feels wrong, and you promised you’d report to him, after all. And it’s hard for you to admit, but you secretly want to be saved in case your plan goes askew. That, and well, you still want to make up with Ace, may it be just strictly as friends, but preferably as lovers.

You decide to call once you’re about to set sail towards Sabaody Archipelago. You’re sitting in the middle of your boat, still anchored at the port when you told Pops your plan. And as expected, he’s mad.

He demands you to go back to the crew immediately. “Captain’s orders,” he says. But after a few moments, he retracts his words and says, “Your father’s orders.” You feel the weight of his words when he said that and you almost concede. But the faces of the slaves your family had flashes into your mind and it solidifies your decision.

Interestingly, despite the weeks you have spent away from the crew, their ship is nearer to you than anticipated. As confirmed by Pops himself when he angrily said, “Enough! I’m sending Ace to get you! Two or three days is enough for him to catch up with you.”

But quite frankly, that’s also enough time to execute your plan. And if the odds are in your favor, then Ace might just come in time for your escape.

Arriving at Sabaody Archipelago, you keep your face hidden underneath the hood of your cloak. It’s normal for pirates to walk around the place without having to hide their identities, but it’s a luxury you can’t afford. If someone catches wind that you’re here and reports it, the Cipher Pol just might come and capture you before you can even execute your plan. That just won’t do. So on the first day of your arrival, you only scout the area of the Human Auctioning House and retreat back to the inn you stay at.

You carry out your plan on the next day. You place a bomb where the side of the stage is supposed to be. It’s a distraction so people inside would leave the premises. The plan is to find the keys and free the slaves while the people are panicking from the explosion. Then eliminate the head of the place, Mr. Disco, and finally blow the place apart. It sounds simple but with you having to do all the work, you know it isn’t.

Now that you’re here, your nerves are spiking up. Arriving at the entrance of the building, you take a deep breath, your hand automatically reaching for the bracelet that Ace made you. It instantly calms you down.

It baffles you how fate works because on the very day you decide to free the slaves that are being sold off at the Human Auctioning House, Ace’s brother, Luffy — along with his crew — is at the same place to rescue their friend who was kidnapped.

Somehow even on a dangerous mission like this, there’s still something or someone who’d remind you of Ace. It makes you wonder: has he really embedded himself too deep into your life that there’s no escaping the thoughts of him? Not that you mind; the thoughts of him bring you peace, after all. But still, it’s fascinating that even in both mundane and dangerous settings, he makes himself known to you.

Upon entering the Human Auctioning House, everything happens so fast and unexpected. And quite frankly, a lot happened that wasn’t part of the plan.

Aside from finding the Straw Hat Pirates, you got yourself injured when you used your body to shield their fish man friend, Hatchi, from Saint Charlos’ gunshot. Then you confronted Saint Shalria personally despite you not planning to get involved with the Celestial Dragons. As for the slaves, it was the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh, who actually freed them. The only things that you personally executed from your plan were Mr. Disco’s elimination and the bombing of the Human Auctioning House.

Escape is easy once the building starts to explode because the Marines would have to lessen the forces who're chasing after the pirates in order for them to successfully put out the fire. Without any Admiral on the scene yet, it’s not hard to slip away from them and/or fight them.

Even with the gunshot wound on your arm, you’re able to take down each and every one of the Marines who are chasing you. But halfway through your journey back to the grove where you left your boat at, you lose your adrenaline.

You start to feel the sharp and stinging sensation on your arm once again, yet, you couldn’t help but smile. You have gotten out alive. The slaves have been freed. With both Mr. Disco and the building gone, the Human Auctioning House will no longer be operational, or at least not yet until someone steps up. But that won’t be after a long time.

It’s a wonderful day.

You look up at the afterglow of the sunset with a serene smile. You have a feeling your nights are going to feel shorter now and less frightening than they were before.

Your peaceful moment is cut off by someone rather abruptly. You jump in surprise as someone wraps their arms around you from behind all of a sudden. “I finally caught up with you.”

Your breath hitches at the sound of the voice. “Ace? What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer your question, but he mumbles, “I’m sorry if I only came now. Pops wouldn’t tell me where you were, but I came as soon as I could.” Then he tightens his hug. “I was so scared, I thought I’d lose you…”

“Ace, I’m sorry about—”

“Hey, it’s on me, okay?” He interrupts. “I blew things out of proportion, and now you’re blue.”

You pull away from his hug to face him.

“Y-your arm! You’re bl-bleeding,” he stutters after seeing your injury.

But you pay no mind to that. “Ace… I’m really sorry about us—”

“Ssshhh, baby…” he rubs his hand on your back.

He looks at your figure carefully, focused on looking for any more bruises or wounds. When he doesn’t find anything more, he gently holds you by your waist. “Don’t blame yourself, I’m the one who burned us down, but… it’s not what I meant.

“It was all in my head, okay? It’s just that the Celestial Dragons are all grouped in my head as scums and that they’re inexcusable because… my brother was killed by a Celestial Dragon.”

A wave of guilt flows through your body, enough to weaken your knees. Before you could fall, however, Ace catches you and brings you to his chest. But this doesn’t stop you from sobbing on his chest. “I didn’t know, Ace. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s the thing, baby. It isn’t your fault. It wasn’t you who pulled the trigger. And… I have to admit I failed to see that at first,” he says as he hugs you tighter. “I shouldn’t have stood there frozen after you told me your story. I’m supposed to be the one who understands you...

“I’m not trying to make excuses and I’m not trying to make this about me but it’s just that… for so long I thought that I inherited the bad blood of my father, and I spent my lifetime failing to see that his sins aren’t my sins,” his voice cracks as he cries. “So when I found out about you… My mind automatically held you liable for the sins of the Nobles…

“But I talked to Pops and he straightened me up. I understand now. Our parents’ sins aren’t ours. It never was ours to begin with. So I’m sorry for blaming you for something you didn’t do…”

Ace stares at your crying form. He cups your face and sincerely says, “It’s so excruciating to see you low,” as he wipes the tears on your eyes. “I’m sorry if I hurt you…”

“It’s fine Ace, I forgive you. But…” You look directly into his eyes. “I’m at fault too,” you confess. “I was the one who left... I was so used to living like an island and isolating myself that it didn’t occur to me that I was punishing you with silence… I should’ve waited patiently for you but I ran away…”

Ace rubs your back gently and presses his forehead against yours, “I forgive you too.”

You smile in relief.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Ace tilts his head. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you said that you saw daylight after sleeping in a long, dark night?”

You give him a curious look but nodded anyway.

“Beside wishing that I was there for you sooner, it had me thinking...”

“What?”

“Uhm… The world is terrible and cruel, and no one can ever really stop the dark nights from coming.”

You frown. You don’t really understand what Ace is trying to say.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he rubs his neck while his cheeks starts to blush, “if you ever have to go through those dark nights, I wouldn’t want you to wait for daylight.

“I want to be there with you on those nights until they’re over. I don’t want to leave you when things get rough and only show up when you’re better. I know you see me as your daylight but I don’t want to be just that.”

His words warm your heart, and makes it skip a beat. “You know, Ace, there are remnants of light that linger in the sky even when the sun has long gone down and the night starts. It’s the afterglow,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but that goes away too after a while,” he frowns.

“Well, lucky for you the moon reflects the sun’s light during the night, huh?”

He grins. “Yeah, yeah. I like that. I want to be your source of light, may it be the daylight, moonlight, or the afterglow.”

A moment of silence engulfs the both of you. Under the soft afterglow of the sunset with your arms wrapped around each other, you feel at peace.

Once upon a time, you used to believe love is black and white— that it’s straightforward. It was either you love Ace or you don’t, there were no gray areas. No matter what he feels, says, or does, your love for him never ceases.

But then some other days you believed that love is burning red— that it’s full of passion, lust, and romance, much like the nights you spent entangled in the sheets with Ace.

However, right now in Ace’s arms, all you could ever think about is that love is golden. It was warmth and comfort, like what daylight brings. It was contentment and serenity too, much like the feeling of lightness one gets when seeing the afterglow of the sunset. Either way, it’s Ace who makes you feel those.

No matter what color love actually is though, for you it’s always embodied by Ace.

211 notes · View notes

worldsover · 4 years ago

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

The Boss From Hell

Summary: After Hell rose up under the rule of Boyking Sam and took over the earth, the reader has found herself working for Hell Corp and trying to be as productive an employee as possible to save herself from death. When she gets a call to meet with Sam himself though, he has a new job for her, one involving seducing his demon brother...

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, threats, smut, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“Y/N. Sam would like to see you in his office,” said your boss, Todd. You swallowed, frozen in your seat. “Sweetie the longer you take the bigger odds he kills more slowly.”

“Right,” you said with a nod. “Um I’m almost wrapped up with the Johnson file but it’s final touches on the charts if you can do that after I’m, you know, dead.”

“Of course. I look forward to working together with you as a demon again,” he said. You swallowed and stood, Todd smiling. “All you humans are always so concerned about that. Trust me, this is better.”

“Looking forward...to it,” you said as you left your cubicle. Todd rubbed your shoulder before you went down the hall and out to the elevators. You were barely able to press the button down without shaking like a leaf. The doors shut quickly and you went down to the ground floor, quickly rushing over to a pair of large wooden doors where two demons in suits waited outside. They opened the doors for you and you forced yourself to step into the room.

It was no office. It had a lone chair and smelled faintly of blood. The doors shut behind you and you felt a presence close by.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” said Sam, his voice coming from directly to your right. He had a dark smile on his face as he walked in front of you.

“Yes sir,” you said as you lowered your head. He leaned down to get at your height and you shut your eyes.

“You think I’m going to kill you?” he asked. You nodded once and he laughed. “Well I do have a habit of doing that to most humans that come in here. I hear good things about you. Your bosses take credit for all of your work naturally but I know who puts in the long hours and does the real work. I’m quite impressed.”

“Thank you sir,” you said. He grabbed your chin and you looked up, Sam smiling back at you.

“I also know that you used your job here to help your human family. I don’t mind a rule broken here or there. You do work for Hell after all,” he said. He dropped your face and straightened himself up. “I’d like to promote you.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, sir,” you said. Sam smirked and you frowned.

“This isn’t an office job. You’re familiar with the resistance group known as W?” he asked. You nodded, used to seeing them all over the news. “My brother leads it. He’s...annoying. I’ve struggled to get a mole into his group for years. I feel as though you might be the one to help me change that.”

“Sir?”

“I want you to go undercover and gather intelligence for me.”

“Sir I thought…” you trailed off as he stared at you.

“Speak your mind. This only works if you tell me everything after all,” he smiled. You swallowed and nodded.

“I thought your brother was...a demon. A Knight of Hell,” you said.

“He is. He’s my second in command which is precisely why I want you to substantiate these rumors for me. Use any means necessary. Sex tends to work with him,” he said.

“You want me to have sex with a demon?” you asked, Sam releasing a booming laugh.

“Oh you’re so adorable. I want you to do whatever the fuck you have to in order to get close. The demon version of him is a little...slutty so use that to your advantage,” he said.

“Okay?” you said.

“You’re dismissed,” he said. He started to walk away and you opened your mouth. “Do not make me ask twice.”

You quickly left and went back to your cubicle, Todd surprised to see you still alive and human.

“Hey! You didn’t die! That’s good! Was this about the promotion I mentioned for you,” he smiled. “I bet it was.”

“Yeah,” you said wit a nod. “I um, got a promotion. I’m not working under you anymore though. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright kid. You’re gonna do great things in upper management,” he said. “You mind finishing up that last report for me before you go?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Todd.”

You sighed as you stepped in front of your closet mirror that night. Sam had texted you some more information on Dean. You weren’t to come into work anymore unless he asked you to. You were a simple human now that had plenty of cash and resources and didn’t give a fuck about anything.

You spun around and winced at the shirt you had on. The backless shirt you had on. The last time you’d worn it was on a girls night to the club and you’d had an amazing time. But that was fun and a simple little backseat quickie with a handsome guy. This felt like you were selling your body.

“If I don’t go, he’s gonna torture me and kill me. If I do...I might get really hot sex and I might get to be safe from bad shit. Okay. Okay. I’m having sex with a demon tonight. I can’t believe I just said that but it’s happening. Okay. Here we go. Let’s do this. Let us do this,” you said, making a face. “Ah, why’d I have to be good at my job. Fuck.”

You took a deep breath and put on a pair of five inch heels, hair and makeup already done.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you said as you headed out to the club known for hosting demons.

“Two shots of vodka and an old fashioned,” you said at the bar thirty minutes later. The demon behind the bar nodded and you felt the eyes on your back. Lots and lots of black eyes in meat suits on your back. You threw back the shots once you got them, chugging the old fashioned before you got another.

“Rough day, princess?” asked a demon in a suit. He ran a finger up your spine and you narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t think princess said to touch,” said a voice. You turned your head and recognized the red shirt immediately. Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell and Sam’s righthand man. “Get lost.”

The demon took off and you got your drink, sipping it slowly as Dean came to lean back against the bar next to you.

“You know this is a demon bar, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I ain’t your sweetheart. Sweetheart,” you said. You drank half your glass before you set it down. He smirked and picked it up, finishing it off. “That was mine.”

“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. He waved his finger and two shots of brown liquor were in front of you quickly. “You want to have tonight sweetheart?”

“Oh, you might be the Knight of Hell but I ain’t your typical girl,” you said. You took your shot in your hand and he smirked as he picked his up.

“I’ve heard it before. Let’s see if you live up to the hype,” he said. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, demon boy,” you said, clanking your glasses together.

“Another round. I like this one.”

“I said down,” you growled thirty minutes later in the room above the bar. You bit at his neck and rolled your hips, Dean thrusting up into you as you sucked his skin hard. “I. Said. Stay. The. Fuck. Still.”

He groaned as he released himself in you, your walls squeezing him, his tip hitting your g-spot and giving you a nice, deep orgasm. You kissed his marked up skin as you moved a few more times, smirking as you sat up. His hickey disappeared and he smiled, laughing to himself.

“Wow. You are not like other human girls,” he said.

“Demon or not, a bottom loves an in charge top,” you said. “Now I think it’s time you cleaned up the mess you made.”

You slid off of him and crawled up the bed, settling yourself over his face. He immediately starting eating you out, his tongue swirling and diving deep. You came quickly and he licked up your juices until you were sure there was nothing left.

“Good demon,” you said as you rolled off of him. He sat up on his elbows as you walked over to get dressed.

“Y/N,” he said. You tensed. You hadn’t told him your name. You looked over your shoulder and his smile seemed...sad almost. “Marcy’s 30th birthday. You went out with your friends. We uh, we had some fun in my car.”

“Blue flannel guy,” you said as it came back to you. “Wait, were you a demon-”

“No,” he chuckled darkly. “That improvement came later. Something about you in that shirt I can’t resist apparently, human or demon.”

“I live in town if you’re ever…”

“Looking for a fuck?” he asked. “I don’t have too hard of a time getting those.”

“There’s a difference between a fuck and a good fuck. How am I batting so far?” you winked.

“Two for two,” he said with a smirk. “Why’s a nice human girl like you in a place like this? I remember the hot sex. I remember the backseat cuddling too.”

“The demons are in charge, Dean. Hell won. I want to be on the winning side of this thing. You guys tend to fuck better too so there’s that.”

“The boyking is in charge. He’s the one to worry about,” he said.

“Isn’t he your boss?”

“I suppose. Change the guy’s diapers and this is how I’m repaid. Fucking vice president of this shit hole,” he said.

“Well, you’re hotter,” you said.

“He’d kill you for that you know. I should kill you for insulting him like that,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He got out of bed and you stared up at him when he walked in front of you. “You’re still hotter.”

“He gets a lot of credit for being smart. Most everyone’s always thought he was more intelligent. I mean how obvious was he trying to send a mole after me?” he said. You didn’t move a muscle and Dean brushed your hair behind your ear. “Your only give away was getting out of bed and not trying to cuddle. I can’t blame you for that.”

“There’s no point in me trying to lie, is there,” you said.

“No, not really,” he said.

“Please kill me quickly,” you said. You shut your eyes and swallowed. “Please.”

“I think you’re going to come home with me and we’ll decide the answer to that. Get dressed. Now.”

Twenty minutes later Dean was leading you by the arm into a relatively normal looking home. He cut through the house and over to a kitchen table, dragging a chair out and setting it in the middle of the room. You sat down, Dean grabbing another one and swiveling it around to face you. He straddled it and sat down, lifting up a finger. He pointed it at you and curled it, your arms tight by your side.

“Understand?” he said. You nodded and the pressure came off of you. You set your hands in your lap, Dean looking you up and down. “I can’t blame you. Your options were agree to be a mole or death. It’s not really a choice at that point. He kills his loyal followers most slowly too I’m sure you’ve heard.”

You stared at him and he smiled.

“How about we come to a...similar agreement,” he said. You shut your eyes and he chuckled.

“You feed Sammy whatever information I tell you to and I will allow you to continue to live,” he said.

“Not much choice there either,” you said quietly.

“Do you know where he gets his powers from? Demon blood. Guess who’s blood he likes the most,” said Dean. He wiped his thumb over his forearm and you saw a scar appear. “I am sick of being his blood bank.”

“It keeps you weak, doesn’t it,” you said. “It’s why he does it. It’s why you haven’t challenged him.”

“Perceptive aren’t you,” he said. You knew he respected strength and you were valuable to him now. You stood up and he watched you carefully. You walked past him and felt a pressure keeping your arms by your sides but that was it. You could move forward, you could turn your head.

“You’re more than weak,” you said. He growled but you took a step forward and another, only stopping when his hand caught your arm. “I find it hard to imagine that the Knight of Hell gets that much power zapped when some blood gets taken from him. You’re weaker than the lowest level demon.”

“He did something to me. Now who’s side do you think I’m on? Demons? Or yours?”

“What’d he do.” He rolled his eyes and you shrugged him off. “Maybe I can help.”

“I am barely demon. He made me harmless. I keep him fed and that’s all I am anymore. He thought I was going to fuck him over. Well his big fuck up was nearly changing me back. Fuck him and fuck the demons. I’m gonna be in charge.”

“Are you going to end the world or just play dirty in it?” you asked. He smirked and raised his chin.

“You know I’m not as bad as him. I’m the lesser of two evils. You...want to help me. Oh, that’s even better than I thought. Shit, I could turn you in and probably get him to back off of me,” he said. You held your ground and he nodded. “Good. You know I was bluffing.”

“We can help each other,” you said. He rested a hand on your hip and gave it a squeeze. “I’m not your personal slut.”

“Understood. No reason we can’t indulge in a little fun while we work together though,” he said. He moved his hand aside and nodded. “I assume you want something for this.”

“What?”

“What do you want? Money? Power?”

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Everyone is always so afraid of what the demons will do to us. If you’re in charge, you and the other demons can play in our world but this is a human world again. Understand?”

“If my brother goes bye bye, Hell will go back to as it was. I swear on my soul,” he smirked.

“Alright then,” you said.

“Well, now that we got the dirty talk out of the way, how about I make you come screaming my name again?”

“How about you go upstairs, edge yourself and tomorrow when I come back, maybe I’ll be nice and let you get off,” you said.

“As you wish,” he said. “Don’t bother locking up. Nobody steals from us.”

“Dean,” you said as he headed upstairs. “Don’t fuck me over on this.”

“He’s not Sam anymore. I like you a hell of a lot more than him right now,” he said. “Wear something you don’t mind me tearing to shreds when you come by tomorrow.”

“We’ll see, demon boy.”

You swallowed as you followed Dean up to his bedroom the next night. You’d spent the day researching and understood what Sam had done to make him barely demon as he put it. One more shot of the right kind of blood and he’d be human.

“Y/N,” said Dean as he stepped aside and you saw a large bed. He grabbed your clutch and opened it, frowning when he pulled out the syringe of blood. “What exactly were you going to do with this? I thought we had an understanding.”

“You can help me. If you’re human then I know for sure you’re-”

“If I’m human, he knows it’s me. He knows it’s you. He’ll destroy us both. I am so much more valuable as a demon and this? This causes trust issues, sweetheart.” He snapped the syringe in his hand and you tried to take a step back, Dean slamming the door shut with his finger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m in charge and if you don’t like that, too fucking bad. Understand?”

“Yes,” you said. He walked until your back hit the door, a dark smile on his face as he peered down at you.

“Now how about-Fuck!” he shouted as you stabbed the syringe from your back pocket into his leg. You ran past him and over to a bathroom door, Dean falling down to the floor and clutching his body. He passed out and you looked around, Dean coming around quicker than you were expecting. You ran over and took out the pair of restraints from your pocket and put them on his wrists. Dean groaned as you tugged them taught and stepped back. He got up to his knees, black eyes staring at you that dissipated into deep green ones.

He shook his head out and took a few breaths, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily.

“Y/N? From the car?” he said. He looked around and down at his wrists. “What the hell is going on?”

“You don’t remember a thing?” you asked. He shook his head and swallowed. “What do you remember?”

“Sammy was...that can’t be real,” he said. “None of that is real.”

“Dean, your brother is the boyking of Hell and he rules not only Hell but earth too,” you said. He shook his head and you stepped closer. “You were a demon. I turned you human just now. Sam made you demon but kept you only kinda demon I guess for your blood. You sounded like you wanted to help and I’m sorry but you were too dangerous as a demon to work with.”

“What do you mean boyking?” asked Dean. You sighed and pulled out your phone, Dean’s breath hitching as you showed him the articles about your demon overlords. “This can’t be happening.”

“It is. I need your help. I know you hunted monsters. I need you to hunt this monster down with me.”

“You mean my brother,” said Dean. You nodded and leaned down, Dean holding out his hands. “Let me go. Please.”

“Are you going to tell Sam?” you asked.

“You have no idea what you just did,” he said. “This mark? On my arm? Eventually, I’m gonna lose it and I’m gonna kill anything in my way.”

“Then we get it off.”

“There is no getting it off. The only way to get it off is if somebody else takes it from me,” he said. “You can’t trust me as a human.”

“Are you kidding me? I just risked my life to save you.” He sighed and snapped the plastic ties, shakily getting to his feet. You stepped back and he held up a hand.

“We got some time before I go ballistic. Probably a few months. If we can get this thing off my arm...somehow...we might have a chance.”

“Then let’s get that off your arm,” you said. He nodded and smiled at you. “What?”

“I always had a good feeling about you was all. Let’s get out of-” he said as you heard a creak down the hall. You both looked out the bedroom door and saw Sam there.

“Y/N, Y/N...I should have known you’d be drawn to him. Now I have to kill him,” said Sam.

“Sammy, don’t,” said Dean, Sam suddenly by his side and snapping something. Dean dropped to the floor and you backed into a wall.

“Give him a minute. He’ll wake up all demon again real soon. This time, he’ll do as told,” said Sam. “He’s very...pliable when he first comes into his new life.”

“Pliable my ass,” said Dean as he yanked Sam down to the floor. Sam grunted and you dove into the bathroom, a lot of smashing and crashing going on in the bedroom. It went quiet and you swallowed when you heard footsteps. You looked up, Dean staring down at you, his eyes narrowed. “You followed the plan very well. I knew Sam was watching and he did exactly as expected.”

“Is he dead?” you asked.

“No. He’s going to detox now and when he’s done, he’ll be a simple little human,” said Dean. “As for our, arrangement...your family and friends are safe. Demon corp is no more.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod, wondering how the hell you were going to help either one of them now. Sam sounded like he was screwed but you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. He was manipulated and you couldn’t blame him for that entirely. Dean, well him you just needed some blood and then you’d have time to get the mark off of him.

“Pack a bag,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as he squatted down. “I like loyalty. You’re loyal to me, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“I’m still not your slut,” you said.

“Didn’t say you were,” he said. “And I said pack a bag.”

“Why?”

“Because you just gave me Hell. I’m gonna give you whatever you want as my second in command.”

“Excuse me?”

“I feel like this is going to be the start of a great relationship, sweetheart,” he said as he flashed you a wink. “Don’t you? I’ll be by your place in an hour whether you’re ready or not.”

He walked out and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“Well shit.”

________

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #demon!dean #demon!dean x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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killerskillercaptain · 4 years ago

Text

Forget Me Not - part I

this work is based on this request

pairing : levi ackerman x reader

wc 1,8 k +

themes : reincarnation au, canonverse to modern au, Levi and Reader both reincarnate in modern au, Levi remembers his past life, reader does not.

warnings : lots of angst, death of reader, cursing.

You dragged your blades along the flesh of another titan's neck, tearing through it just enough to kill the giant. You watched the titan fall and crash while you landed on the ground using your ODM gear.

"Shit !" you muttered a bit panicked

Those were your last usable blades, all of the others already broke and the remaining ones were too damaged, weathered by the long and repetitive moves.

You looked around you, there were so many soldiers dead, their bodies lying flat on the ground, but you couldn't spot a single blade fit for use near any of the corpses, all of their swords had either been snapped in half, crushed or are still planted on the giant bodies trying to eat you alive.

Never had a battle been so demanding and tiresome, you don't recall seing a mission this gruesome, and you were a vet ! If there was a hell on earth, this would be it. Even the weather wasn't in your favor; it was raining blood, the air was filled with a repugnant smell that you soldiers were all too familiar with, the smell of titans body fluids and body parts rotting not far away from you. All of this was bearable you thought, grown accustomed to, what was never tolerable was the cries of your comrades getting eaten alive. The sound of their bodies crushed or getting bitten sounded new each time. It was strange, there was all this killing going on, all these horrible deaths happening right now, the rain and the muffled sounds of bones being crushed at the palms of faith, and some last words you could barely comprehend, but strangely enough, time seemed to stop for you, everything around you began to become distant and you could feel what resembled a calmness inside the turmoil inside of you. What was this odd feeling you thought, looking down at your hands, you observed the spoilt blades of your two swords, your hands weren't shaking anymore, and you found yourself in a bizarre state of apathy.

Did you accept your nearing death ? Were you going to stop fighting and let today be your last ? What could you do ? There were still more titans than soldiers, you were on your knees, incapable of making them move, even if there was a blade you could use on a body somewhere, you wouldn't be able to reach it without getting in the visual field of a titan, it would be like rushing to your death. You were stuck, your years of experience had taught you to assess quickly and effectively situations, and you knew you couldn't kill or save now, you could only run for your life, an option you couldn't bring yourself to do, maybe someone will come, someone with reinforcement and equipment.

You couldn't desert a battlefield. Looking up at the sky, you closed your eyes, cancealing the horrors of your surroundings, you prayed for one person to show up, only one person could make a way out of this hopeless situation.

Eyes still closed, you thought about Levi Ackerman, you wondered where he could be right now, you thought about the way he methodically does his job, nice and clean, no one being able to match his skills, you thought about how much he hated casualties and pointless deaths. As foolish and frivolous it was, you thought about his jet black hair and the way it would fall on his face while he escapes from a titan's grip, how his jaw clenches when he's faced with a particularly bothersome specimen, you weren't aware you picked up on those things until now, not to forget how his body spins, like a dancer in a deadly ballet. You also thought about how he always kept an eye on you every time you were together on a field, his eyes always trying to locate you somehow, you caught him so many times throwing worried glances at you, especially in dangerous situations, more than any other of his comrades. Did it mean anything ? You never thought about it that way, come to think of it, you never knew what Levi Ackerman thought of you, were you just a another comrade to him or someone more important ? Those questions were going to stay unanswered. All those times you caught him eyeing you, overprotecting you, asking you if you ate, slept, rested at the most random of occasions.

And him ? Did he know what you thought of him ?

You felt the ground tremble underneath you all of a sudden, you looked beside you and you saw a giant human-like feet, its nails extremely dirty, a long and deep cut carving an opening at its ankle, leaving the insides completely visible. When did you get accustomed to such disgusting sights ? The titan bent over, watching your form, you were looking up at him now.

He has a friendly face you thought.

You pictured Levi in your head, for maybe what you thought was your last moment. He hated futile losses.

"Don't you dare die on me" he always said.

An ear piercing sound blew out of nowhere and a black signal tore the sky apart. You saw a small figure jump from tree to tree using an ODM gear, you didn't recognize who it was until the silhouette landed next to you, only inches away. Blood and rain on his face, Levi pulled you up by your underarm.

"GET UP ! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING ?

"I don't- i don't know what had gotten into me Levi"

"I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT MOVE IT"

He let go of your arm and grabbed you by the collar of your cape and forced you to stand on your now shaky legs.

"I'm out of gas Levi"

"What ?"

If you've never seen Levi panic, you did now. His eyes darted around frenetically, from the titans to the dead bodies then back to you again. He was grabbing you by the arm again, you could feel his long fingers digging into your forearm, he was tense and panicking. Panicking because both of you didn't have horses, but mostly because he had only one gas bottle left.

Levi looked down, trying to asses the situation and come with a plan for both of you to shun the titans and get out safely while having just enough gas for one person. Feeling a hot puff on the top of your heads you both looked up just in time to see two big eyes and a large mouth ready to chop both of your heads off, Levi shot his grapple hooks and pulled you by the waist with him, you escaped this one, but he couldn't guarantee the others, this situation couldn't go one he thought. You landed far enough to be out of reach from the titan who just attacked you, but you could already spot two blonde abnormals noticing you and coming for you. Levi quickly grabbed his gas container and detached it from his gear.

"Here ! Take it ! This should be enough for you to escape far from titan territory !" Levi shouted under the heavy cascade of rain.

"What ? No !"

"Don't be fucking stupid ! Take it ! I can manage to escape without it somehow ! Forget about completing the mission ! We retreat NOW !"

You reached for the container and placed it on your own gear before standing up. One of the abnormal had come so close now you could see the veins on his ridiculously large stomach. Levi grabbed your arm one last time "I'm going to shot my hooks at the nearest tree, i'm gonna distract this one so you can escape ! You take the opposite direction"

You nodded while the ground shook harder now that the titan was in front of you, his gigantic form casting its shadow over you. You actioned your hand grips, your hooks flew right into a tree in the opposite direction of where Levi went, you prepared yourself to use the gas to speed up.

Levi thinking the titan would naturally follow him instead, landed on a giant oak before turning around. His face darkened as soon as his eyes landed on you. You were struggling to get past the titan who was still chasing you and ignoring Levi, how come you weren't moving fast, the amount of gas should have been enough.

Levi's felt his heart stop and sink down his stomach, he instinctively reached behind him and pulled up the container he still had.

It was full.

He had given you the wrong gas container.

He mixed them up and gave you the empty one.

That's why you were so slow, too slow.

Too late.

Looking up, afflicted, he launched forward screaming your name, but it was in vain and he knew it. He couldn't take his eyes off your small figure getting picked up by a giant human hand who didn't have the any struggle catching up with you.

You think you heard him scream

You think you heard him scream your name

You're not sure, but you think you heard him slash the titan's fingers and landing with you on the ground, the titan's blood pouring down on both of you, hot and sticking.

For a moment, you thought you were going to make it, but you got suddenly conscious of the grotesque laceration on your lower abdomen and knew that this was it. You weren't going to make it.

An indescribable pain, a man's cry of misery, and cold blood running through your veins, you watched your vision go black, and for a split of second, the feeling of falling down an immense pit was all you could think of, the voice of Levi's cries resonating against the walls of what you assumed was your consciousness.

"I'm sorry ! I'm so sorry !" "Forgive me !"

***

When you opened your eyes, the sunlight blasting through a nearby window blasted your vision, when your eyes adjusted to the lightening, you realized you were in a room painted with an immaculate white.

How did you get in this hospital room ?

Wait, how did you know this was a hospital room ?

Because it looks familiar

You tried to recall anything prior to this instant, but you couldn't. Your mind was blank, you grabbed your head with your two hands, how come your memory was so blank ?

Outside of the building, you could hear chanting ambulances and honking cars in the distance, making your head throb painfully. You looked at your right, a bed table was there, on top was a bottle of mineral water, your keys, and your purse with a stethoscope dangling from it. There was also flowers dipping in a small amount of water inside a glass.

Your purse ? Your keys ? You don't remember coming here by yourself ! You tried to get up and get out of bed but the thumping inside your head quickly urged you to lay back down rapidly. You closed your eyes to try and shut the pain but heard footsteps shuffling cautiously inside the room, eyes still closed you heard a familiar soft and young voice ask if you were awake.

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mochis-interlude · 4 years ago

Text

wristbound || giyuu

this is just a little thank you for 100 followers. i hope you’ll enjoy + feeback is always appreciated! <3

↠ pairing. giyuu x fem! reader

↠ genre. fluff, angst

↠ warnings. memory loss/amnesia, minor character death, murder, graphic scenes, blood, language, implied sex work (nothing explicit)

↠ words. 11.2k

↠ summary. the little red bracelet you made when the two of you were nothing but kids, it reminded giyuu that he was always tied to your wrist.

not even your sudden disappearance could snap the wristband in two.

"[Name] didn't cause any trouble, did she?" Your brother, Haruto, was out of breath as he took a seat next to two raven-haired women who were your best friend's mother and his sister. The mother laughed, shaking her head as she already knew what happened; Haruto had once again lost sight of you and you ran away to them. Ran away to Giyuu, more specifically.

"Not at all. By now, you should know that we love having [Name] over," she said, her blue eyes setting on the two children playing in the garden amongst flowers and butterflies. The mother's gaze softened with each passing second, heart feeling full and hopeful for her son's future.

Tsutako's eyes followed her mom's line of sight curiously and found her younger brother proudly showing you the butterfly he caught by sheer luck. However, your eyes were glued to Giyuu's face instead of the butterfly. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she imagined a future for her younger brother where you were by his side through it all. "They'd make a great couple when they're older, no?"

"Pardon me?!" Voice high-pitched, Haruto choked on his spit and ended up coughing into the sleeves of his haori. You with that boy? Impossible. Just after you were born, he promised father to take care of you, to protect you! What could a boy like Giyuu do besides catching pretty butterflies?

Haruto was about to protest, his overprotective side over you kicking in, but he was left with an open mouth and every word dying on his tongue when your laughter bounced throughout the garden. It was a rare sound he usually didn't hear. The most Haruto would get out of you was a chuckle and a half-hearted smile which you put on like a carefully molded mask.

You were so small and so, so young when your eyes witnessed a monster eating your parents, blood covering the place that used to be such a loving and warm home. Crimson stained the walls and the floor, organs lying about like furniture. Haruto was able to chase the monster into the early sunrise and brought its end.

Haruto never thought you'd remember that event.

Yet there you were, vibrantly laughing with the Tomioka boy until tears would brim your eyes, until you used up all of your energy and fell asleep in Haruto's strong arms. Maybe being with Giyuu was the equivalent of salve for your soul.

Maybe, Tsutako was right. When the two of you grew up, you'd make a fine couple.

"Yeah..they would," he finally agreed.

"Here! I made these for us!" Your small hands revealed two crimson bracelets made of simple thread that you had gotten in town with your big brother. A toothy grin stretched your lips apart, revealing that one of your front teeth was missing; pride and joy was written all over your face.

With wide eyes, Giyuu reached for one of the bracelets, looked at the gift and then back at you. "Why? It's no one's birthday today," the raven-haired kid said with an innocent tilt of his head. It wasn't that Giyuu didn't appreciate your gift, it was quite the opposite! But he also knew that your brother made just enough money to bring food to the table, so he couldn't help but feel guilty that you spent money on a gift.

"So you never forget me, silly!" Your laugh filled the garden rich with various flowers and vegetables growing from the earth. Taking the bracelet from Giyuu's grasp, you carefully tied the simple thread around his wrist until it casually sat against his skin and wouldn't slip off.

Forgetting you sounded ridiculous to Giyuu ㅡ why would he ever forget about his clumsy best friend? He didn't quite understand, and yet, maybe his heart did, because without realizing it, Giyuu tied your own bracelet around your wrist. The knot was far from perfect, but it was enough.

"Besides, you must always remember that I'm never far and always with you, okay?" A blush sat upon your cheeks as you intertwined your pinky finger with Giyuu and brought them up to eye-level, tying him into a promise of a lifetime. Your heart desired nothing more than to spend a life filled with your best friend and your big brother.

"P-promised.." Giyuu's heart fluttered, his face heated up.

But happiness was a sandcastle.

It only took 3 months for the waves to come crashing down and take the lives of not only your brother, but Giyuu's family, as well, leaving the two of you orphaned.

However, just because you were a girl, didn't mean that Urokodaki went any easier on you. How often had you found yourself getting knocked on your back, although all you could do was blink? Incredible, you thought to yourself each and every day, even challenging Giyuu and Sabito to practice your falls and build up strength during the night until your body was bruised, possibly even ached at the mere thought to move any more.

It was a fortunate stroke of luck that Urokodaki found Giyuu and you wandering through a small village in search of shelter, taking the two of you in along with a boy named Sabito. He raised the three of you into fine swordsmen while also making sure that you had enough to eat, a place to sleep and everything that came along with a place called home.

Despite the harsh training, you always had fun and treasured each day you got to spend with the two boys who were like brothers to you. It was the small moments making you laugh and suffer alike; like Urokodaki throwing Giyuu into the river to "become water" or how the old man smacked Sabito's stomach whenever the tension in his stomach wasn't enough for the breathing techniques.

One night before the final selection, the warmth of flames and the smell of soup filled the space just outside of Urokodaki's small home with the three kids gathered around the small fire. It was a starry night filled with an exceptionally rich moon, the view accompanied by the sound of laughter.

"They say you are what you eat but [Name] still isn't soup," Sabito chuckled as you slurped your tenth bowl of soup empty until no drop remained in the pristine bowl. The peach-haired boy was convinced that you had a bottomless pit as a stomach, he was always astonished at the amount you managed to eat in one sitting.

"You say that like I ate a lot," you pouted at Sabito's small poke, but never took it seriously. Shoulders casually shrugged it off while you were basking in the warmth the small fire provided. Although it was far from being cold, the breeze in the mountains was still chilly and liked to nip at your cheeks.

Next to you, Giyuu laughed and the glow of the flames dipped his face in an orange hue, making your heart jump within your ribcage. Painfully, you had come to realize that as you grew up with Giyuu, the boy made your heart flutter in a way which certainly wasn't fair. Perhaps..you did have a crush on your best friend, but you'd never say it out loud.

"[Name], you ate more than Sabito and I combined." Giyuu's laughter died down as he brought his own bowl to his lips and sipped the steaming broth Urokodaki had cooked just for the three of you.

Whenever everyone gathered to have dinner and Sabito would be amazed at your appetite, it reminded Giyuu of all the times you'd come over to his family's place and eat with them. Haruto would scold you for eating too much, Mother would laugh and gladly make you another plate while Giyuu would always give you the veggies he didn't like.

"It's called having a healthy appetite, Giyuu. Your points are invalid," you declared with a dismissive wave of your hand and snickered as you saw your best friend's shoulders slump at your words.

Peaceful moments like these were rare with the training you went through daily and the upcoming final selection made every day a little bit more tense. Of course, you were aware of Sabito's and Giyuu's polished skills and had confidence in your own swordsmanship, but it was a fact that no one knew what would happen in those seven days.

"[Name] isn't wrong about this." Urokodaki put some extra wood into the fire, flames licking at the bork and effectively melting the layer away. The Tengu mask made it impossible to look at Urokodaki's face, but judging by his tone, the former Hashira had to wear a serious expression on his face.

"Let me tell you one thing. Just like humans, demons gain their strength from the humans they consume. The more a demon has eaten, the stronger it is." Everyone listened to Urokodaki's words with perked ears and curious eyes as if they could study the information like a book. "Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"If they're stronger, their neck also gets tougher to cut, right?" Sabito still cupped his empty bowl to warm up his hands. He didn't sound nervous at all, if anything, he was nothing but confident in himself which was something you admired. Sabito was like a strong boulder that one could always rely on.

Urokodaki nodded his head. "Yes."

Giyuu saw the way you unconsciously bit your bottom lip, how your nails dug themselves into the ground and fingers occasionally fumbled with a bit of grass. Whenever you started feeling insecure, you'd always bite your lip or the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours which Giyuu had caught on to years ago.

As Giyuu got older, he grew more hesitant at holding your hand in a reassuring way. Although Sabito would never tease him about it, there was something special tickling in his belly whenever he reached for your hand. It made red rush to his cheeks, but the smile you gave him afterwards was worth the embarrassment he felt.

"Thank you," you mouthed, Giyuu exhaled shakily.

You made his heart feel too funny with the tiniest of things.

Footwear left deep prints in the muddy earth, high trees and thick bushes made it hard to see what was next, but you had to push through whatever lurked around the next corner.

After all, this was the second day of the final selection.

It was all about surviving 7 days in a forest filled to the brim with demons who were close to starvation. Kill or be killed, it was.

You were lucky not to have encountered any nasty demon and only had to worry about what you should eat next, but you thought of it as a bad omen. There was no way in hell the three of you could have so much luck and even if that was the case, it felt like those two days, devoid of any fight, took up all the luck you were supposed to have in one lifetime.

"Watch out, it's slippery!" Sabito ran down a small hill and nearly fell, but caught his balance just in time. He swore he saw a squirrel which he could cook later, but the animal sure was quick to run away from being eaten.

You were right behind Sabito, but much more careful than he was and slid down the hill on instinct. It had rained the entire day, so of course, the ground would be slippery, muddy and filled with puddles.

"Ah!"

Looking back, you saw Giyuu sitting on the wet ground and pressing a hand to his forehead. You went back, wanting to see what had gone wrong, but as you got closer, you saw blood severely dripping from his forehead, over his eyelids and down his cheeks. Not even his sword was to be seen anywhere; he possibly lost it just now.

"Giyuu, can you walk?" You offered him your hand which the boy gratefully took, but he couldn't seem to properly pull himself to his feet, his gaze seemed fuzzy, unfocused.

Scanning the area, you saw a small rock with fresh splatters of blood on it. So that was why..

A heavy trauma to the head. No wonder Giyuu was somewhere between unconsciousness and reality.

"Don't worry, we got this." Calmly, you examined the bleeding wound and pushed the uneven fringe out of the way to get a better look at it. Giyuu hissed when your finger brushed over the injury. "Sabito, can you watch out for demons? Just in case."

Sabito pulled his sword out of its sheath and protectively stood in front of Giyuu and you, one arm stretched out to his side to block the view of you patching up his friend. "Got it."

What were you supposed to do without any bandages? You scanned the area in hopes of finding something, anything that could slow down the bleeding, but all you saw was earth, leaves and some bushes. Stupid, to think that you'd magically see a pharmacy in the woods.

Then, your eyes settled on the sleeve of your haori. It took you no longer than a moment to unsheath your sword, cut through the fabric and tightly tie it around Giyuu's forehead who groaned in pain. "I'm sorry," you mumbled and finished the improvised banades up with a tight knot.

You were about to help Giyuu back on his feet, but at once, the ground shook beneath you in rhythmical periods.

"There's something!" Sabito breathed more to himself, but you were able to catch it with your senses suddenly heightened by the incoming rush of adrenaline. Giyuu still applied pressure to his injury, his sight switching from complete nothingness to what was happening around him.

Instantaneously, your eyes widened in horror at the demon that was trudging towards the three of you and giggled as it swallowed another kid that he managed to eat.

He was deformed to the bone, several hands hugged its tall, green body. Eyes, disgustingly big, stared at Sabito, then you and Giyuu before his hands began scratching at his skin in an anxious, excited manner.

"Ohh! Urokodaki is feeding me even more kids than usual this time! I bet the three of you are delicious! I can only imagine the face he'll make when three students won't make it back to him!"

Sabito planted both of his feed into the ground, the tip of his sword pointed at the demon's neck. "[Name], you protect Giyuu. I'll lop off the head." As soon as the words left Sabito's mouth, Giyuu was about to protest but stumbled back into your body, your arms catching him before he could trip, again.

"Be careful." You nodded at Sabito and took a defensive stance right in front of Giyuu, holding the blade right next to your head while your hands were grasping the handle tightly. As blue eyes watched your back, watched his two best friends fight, Giyuu felt as helpless as the night his family got massacred.

All he could do was watch.

Perversely large hands dashed at Sabito who leapt through those which didn't radiate murderous intent and cut off the hands aiming for his body. He jumped on one of the demon's arms, dodging a fist coming his way by ducking low and sliding along the green skin.

You blocked a fist with the help of your sword and got pushed back a few meters before you twisted the handle in your grasp, abruptly slicing through the fist from below. "Are you okay, Giyuu?!"

As much as you wanted to take a look back and check up on him, you absolutely couldn't take your eyes off the battle or else, the demon could get Giyuu or even the both of you.

While you were stepping in puddles of blood, cutting those disgusting hands off and had to focus on not taking a lethal hit, you still worried about Giyuu. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest. If only he knew where his sword was, then he'd force himself to fight alongside Sabito and you!

"Don't worry about me, [Name]!"

You were so busy concentrating on what was happening in front of you that you failed to notice the one hand underneath your feet. Before you could even think about using a breathing technique or leaping up into the air, the hand wrapped itself around your ankle and threw you away like you were nothing but a fly.

"[Name]!" Saito and Giyuu shouted your name in unison, watching in horror as you flew farther away with each second.

You desperately stretched one of your arms out in the desperate hope of being able to grab on to a branch and get back to the fight, but it was wishful thinking.

"I'll come back!" You cried out until your vocal chords protested and nearly gave in. The air in your lungs became needles. "Until then, survive, got it?! You must survive!"

"Whatever you do, you've got to survive!" Hands clinging to the katana you carried with you, you screamed at the top of your lungs one last time. Bit by bit, your friends seemed to become dots. "Survive! Sabito! Giyuu!"

Sabito clenched his jaw, teeth grinding against one another as anger bubbled deep within his heart and threatened to spill like an overflowing sink.

He charged at the demon with a yell and got so very close to the neck, ready to chop it off when his blade suddenly snapped into two.

Giyuu watched in horror as the demon used Sabito's surprised state to his advantage and smashed his friend's head in.

All he could do was watch.

All he could do was run.

Agonizingly, your body collided with the hard ground and filled your mouth with blood, several cracking sounds travelled throughout your body like electricity. As you gasped for air, you nearly choked on your own blood and coughed it out, a crimson puddle lingering underneath you.

You didn't know where exactly you were nor did you know how long it'd take you to get back to your friends, but you had to find a way. No matter how much your body ached, no matter how loudly every fiber of your body screamed at you to stop, you couldn't.

It was through pure will that you managed to bury the tips of your fingers into the dirt and drag yourself to your blade lying a few meters in front of you. Your view was blurry, but you still managed to make out that the Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you had snapped in half and it had you mentally laughing.

He was going to break your bones, wasn't he?

"Just a little bit.." You croaked out with your hand desperately reaching for the handle of the katana. Just a little bit more, just a few more centimeters and the handle would be back in your broken hand, but just before you could even touch it, your arm limply fell to the ground. As much as you wanted to move, forced yourself to go that one extra step, your body didn't listen.

Gradually, black hugged the corners of your view and the ability to hear slowly faded into nothing. No longer could you feel the ground below you or smell the scent of the trees surrounding you; opaque came to envelope you and drag you to the depths of unconsciousness.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, dampening the earth below you and eventually soaking the collar of the haori you wore. You had promised Urokodaki to come back, you had promised to live a long life, you had promised to stay by Sabito's and Giyuu's side and now, you couldn't even promise to move your finger.

"Giyuu.. Sabito.. Forgive me, but I won't make it back.."

The last thing you saw was the moon reflected in the broken blade and the red bracelet firmly wrapped around your wrist.

Three days had been spent looking for you in hopes of finding you only injured, but still alive. Three days without a clue of where you could be, but Giyuu clung to the slim hope of you lying somewhere in these cursed woods, unconscious but well.

It was that thread of hope that kept his hand glued to the blade, kept his head up and forced his gaze to look ahead.

Feet had run through countless rough patches until blisters hurt Giyuu, but he simply ran through them until his feet got sore and he would be damned if he stopped running at that very moment. After all, persistence and determination would pay off, right? The strong-willed would always be rewarded after going through hell and back.

Nearing a river, Giyuu spotted a broken katana as well as smudges of blood on the ground and immediately slid down the small hill he was on. In his rush, he stumbled over his feet and fell to his knees right next to the blade which he knew was yours.

The thread of hope finally snapped.

Frantically, he scanned the area for any sign of you being alive, but all he found was the dried puddle of blood and the snapped Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you just before heading off for this damned final selection.

With shaking fingers, Giyuu picked up the handle of the sword, hot tears streaming down his face. "[Name]..?" His voice was fragile, on the verge of breaking with every second spent in deafening silence. Giyuu couldn't find it in him to get up, his knees felt like broken mirrors which would stab into his flesh and force him to kneel, regardless of what he desperately wanted to do.

"Please, this isn't funny!" The raven-haired boy called out and tears began blurring his vision, sniffles and choked back sobs rocked his body. "[Name]!" Giyuu hugged the handle of your katana to his chest as he curled up into himself and sobbed into the new day that had just begun.

Why did the universe take away every person he loved so dearly?

First, it was his family, then Sabito and you that got ripped from his grasp, lives he treasured more than anything else, people who he would've died for.

"[Name].. You promised to come back.." The boy murmured to no one and let his eyes travel to the wristband you had made so many years ago. It was physical proof that you were always with him and never far, that he would never forget you and that your lives were intertwined like the sun and the moon.

"Give me [Name] back.."

It was at this moment that a Demon Hunter of higher rank called out to a whimpering Giyuu and brought him back to where the final selection started, a place filled with beautifully blooming wisteria.

Everyone came back.

Everyone except for you and Sabito.

How was Giyuu supposed to face Urokodaki after this?

Lead flowed through every single vein as Giyuu dragged himself back to Urokodaki's home, body heavy with the strain of surviving for 7 days straight, but compared to the gilt gnawing away at his heart, it was bearable.

If only he hadn't gotten injured, then maybe Sabito would still be alive, standing right next to him with an equally aching body but still smiling through the pain because they would've made it.

If only Giyuu had gotten to the river a bit earlier, you'd be swooning over Urokodaki's food and excitedly tell the elder man about all the achievements and experiences you gained. You, too, would be alive and smiling.

The young boy stopped dead in his tracks as his blue eyes spotted Urokodaki chopping up some wood with an axe which the former Hashira dropped when his gaze fell upon Giyuu.

Sadness lingered in Urokodaki's nose and was quick to mix with relief of still being alive, yet Giyuu reeked of regret, grief and sorrow. He couldn't blame the young boy. Urokodaki knew how attached Giyuu was to Sabito and you. The three of you would always train together, share food among one another like you were siblings and cut worries in half simply by being present.

Giyuu was desperately trying to bite back new sobs and tears, since Sabito would be the one to say that a man should suffer in silence. On the other hand, there was you who looked so upset when he once tried to hide an injury from you.

"Stop acting tough." You had once said.

The entire sky came crashing down on Giyuu as he felt his teacher's arms wrapping around him to welcome him home, to express gratefulness that he made it back.

"Sabito and [Name]!" Giyuu could no longer hold his tears at bay, they freely rolled down his cheek like waves crashed into the shore. It was too much and yet not enough. "Urokodaki-san! They.. They..!" His voice broke a little more with each word that Giyuu tried to force out of his throat, but the lump of sorrow cut through his vocal chords.

"I'm glad you're back," was all Urokodaki managed to say and he hoped it'd take a bit of weight off the young boy's shoulders. He feared that if he tried to speak any more, he would cry more than he already was, as well. During the time as a teacher, Urokodaki had lost so many of his students who grew on him ㅡ Sabito, Giyuu and you were no exception.

Sadness poked around deeply in his heart, but it was Urokodaki's duty to make sure that his student wouldn't be overcome by his current despair. He knew Giyuu would be able to overcome his sorrow and grow into a good person.

But first, time needed to heal the wound which was still bleeding so heavily.

Giyuu rubbed his eyes dry with the sleeve of his haori, took off the small bag he carried on his back and showed Urokodaki the broken blade which had belonged to you. "Do you.. Do you think it can be fixed?"

Urokodaki took the two parts into his hands and was surprised at how jaded the blade was. It didn't even cut his finger like it was supposed to and the color had disappeared from the sword like it had never been wielded by anyone in the first place. "That can be arranged. I'll ask Haganezuka."

Two weeks passed when Haganezuka arrived with two swords in his hands and nearly lost his mind when Giyuu said that he wasn't a dual wielder and only needed one blade.

"You little..! What do you mean you can't wield both?! It'd be disgraceful not to wield both Nichirin blades!" Haganezuka screeched loud enough for his voice to echo through every corner of Mount Sagiri. It took so long to make the broken sword look like it had never been broken and this brat didn't even think about testing it out!

Giyuu never pulled the blade out of the sheath as you were the one who should do it and witness the change of colors with your own eyes. "I'm sorry." It wasn't necessary to let the swords smith in on the details when he was a stranger. A weird stranger, at that.

"Sorry doesn't cut it!"

Despite the strange encounter with Haganezuka who was oddly dedicated to his craft, as Giyuu would put it, the sword was always held close to his heart. It was a reminder of the life Sabito and you gifted him, that he should work harder to be able to protect those around him.

When Giyuu climbed through the ranks and was able to afford his own estate, the first thing he had hung up was the sword you fought with.

It was 8 years later when bare feet danced on the wooden floor like water flowed through the river. No unnecessary steps, elegance connected every single move like stars made up beautiful constellations which left people in awe each and every time.

Several women watched with parted lips and sparkling eyes as this person was a constellation herself, someone they could learn and profit from if they watched closely enough. But they knew that this level of accurate and controlled movements required not only effort, but talent as well.

When feet ceased to float and the music humming in the background died down, one woman in particular ran up to the young dancer, manicured nails squishing the full cheeks together. "Isn't she amazing?" Mizu nearly squeaked with pride and reddened cheeks while receiving agreeing nods from the other women.

Mizu was an oiran living in Yoshiwara, a red light district. She was rather beautiful with her opaque hair kept into a bun and held together by golden hairpins, her lips painted crimson and fair skin, although most of her pale skin was thanks to the help of make-up.

"[Name] really is amazing," one of the women said smiling, her palms on her lap as she agreed with Mizu.

Such praise was often thrown your way only because Mizu was in the room. No one dared to openly point out your mistakes and actively help you improve your skills, so you had no choice but to ask the women yourself when Mizu was out of hearing-range.

This issue wasn't the only thing keeping everyone on the edge of their seat.

Whenever a severe mistake happened, that woman was sure to disappear within the next night. Stomping could clearly be heard, you swore the mere sound gave off a murderous intent so intense that it left you shaking underneath the security of your blankets.

When asking if one of your fellow workers could also sense the blood lust every once in a while, they said no. Apparently, they couldn't feel the immense anger creeping throughout the house like you could which left you confused. However, the fact that your senses were so sharp and sensitive to blood lust made you wonder if you had lived a different life before you woke up in Yoshiwara.

Actually, you were sure that you had lived differently before finding yourself in Yoshiwara, but your memories were erased. Proof of your previous lifestyle were your calloused palms, the small scars on them which the other women always pitied you for as it apparently wasn't fit for a lady to have rough palms.

Then there was this wristband which you wore for a reason long forgotten.

All you could remember was your name when you one day woke up on a tatami mat underneath a safe roof with several women in the room. You couldn't answer a single question regarding your past, the years of your life suddenly drowned in black as you tried your best to remember what happened, what caused the pain in your body, but it was no good.

"Thank you for your kind words. If you'd excuse me." As you turned around to leave for the bathrooms, you felt Mizu's eyes on your back and you knew that she had nothing but love swimming in her dark eyes, and yet, you sensed something much deeper, so much darker lurking within them that a shiver rolled down your spine.

One woman responsible for today's cleaning stood next to the highly-respected oiran. "Wherever you picked [Name] up from, it's a gift you found her. She might as well take your place someday, Mizu-san."

A gift you were indeed, but the way you danced bugged Mizu. It reminded her of the fighting techniques of Demon Slayers. Filthy. "Yeah. Who knows what might've happened to her if it was someone else that found her.." Mizu brought the sleeve of her kimono up to her lips, hiding the lower part of her face and tilted her head to the side as she watched you disappear behind shoji doors, briefly remembering where she had found you nearly a decade ago.

"Oh my, what a poor thing." Mizu knelt down to where you laid on the ground, your breathing was shallow and your hand outstretched as if reaching out to the sword in front of you. Manicured nails pushed your bangs out of your face and traced the bruises along your cheek and neck, feeling that your jaw was, indeed, broken.

"You'd look beautiful without all these ugly stains," she mused while twisting a strand of your dirtied hair around her index finger, crimson red lips frowned at the miserable state you were in. So far gone, you couldn't even hear her voice, feel her touch.

Reaching behind her head, Mizu took two hairpins out of her hair and styled your hair into a bun, the hairpins keeping the look somewhat together. You reminded her of the daughter she once had before the small child suddenly died. Mizu desired nothing more than to have her daughter back and you were the perfect fit.

"You'd make a beautiful oiran, one day. Maybe I should make you my daughter." Mizu smiled into the night at the thought of having a daughter, such a stunning one, too. With her, you'd be better off than with those filthy slayers if the sword in front of you was anything to go by. She could give you all the riches you desired, all the kimonos, money, men and women you could ever want.

Those Demon Hunters could only offer you death.

"From today on, you'll be my lovely daughter," Mizu cheered and poked at your cheek to maybe gain a reaction, but all she heard was an incoherent mumble of names she had never heard of. Unimportant, these people no longer mattered.

Carefully, Mizu picked you up with a smile and disappeared into the night.

The water was pleasantly warm against your skin as you washed the heavy make-up off your face, several colors went down the drain and no longer stuck in place like a mask. Luckily, you didn't have to show your face to any outsider that night, or else the amount of make-up would suffocate you.

A sigh escaped through your lips when your eyes landed on that red wristband, the threads wet and soaked with water, but still perfectly intact. You didn't know why, but your heart always ached a little whenever you thought about its origin and the possible memories connected to this little item.

Maybe someone important gave it to you?

Maybe that someone was looking for you and could help you regain your memories!

Ah, what were you thinking? Stuff like this only existed in romantic novels. 8 years had passed and no one had ever looked for you, you were certain of that. No had ever asked around for you, no one had ever put up a picture of your face, no one had cared enough.

Whenever you'd ask Mizu about where she found you and what you did before joining the house she lived in, she brushed you off, saying that it was time for your Japanese class, time to practice calligraphy or dancing, when in reality she only wanted you to be distracted and busy.

"Maybe I should give up and just live with it..," you mumbled into the towel as you dried your face. At least, you would no longer anger Mizu or make the other women nervous when asking anything regarding your past.

Having made up your mind, you trudged back into your empty room. No matter how many paintings you had hung up, no matter how many clothes filled your wardrobe and no matter how much jewelry Mizu made you wear on your hands and neck, it was empty.

You were lucky to live, but were you really alive or simply a shell of who you used to be?

After countlessly tossing and turning, your body finally found some rest and dragged you into a deep slumber.

Streets filled with people were never one of Giyuu's favorites. He preferred executing his job in the mountains where he wouldn't have to hide his sword from the police and didn't have the stress of potentially having to protect a large number of people if a demon was to show up.

One good thing about cities was the food. The steaming bowl of ramen warmed Giyuu up from within as the chilly evening breeze nipped at his cheeks, tinting the flesh a faint shade of red.

"It's almost unbelievable that a demon is supposed to be here. Right, Tomioka-san?" Shinobu sat next to Giyuu and enjoyed her own portion of food. Just behind her back, people chattered away and children played tag with each other, from somewhere further away, she could even make out the faint strumming of an instrument.

Apparently, a demon was hiding somewhere in Yoshiwara. Every few months, women, prostitutes, to be more specific, suddenly disappeared and had never been seen again. Of course, the rumor of those women losing her footing had spread, but this was as waterproof as paper.

Those women had never shown signs of wanting to run away with a man. Love letters were never found nor did they suddenly receive a good amount of money or saw someone especially frequently.

"Demons can hide anywhere." Giyuu's ears picked up how some men asked for some lady's services and briefly, the thought of a demon hiding in a brothel crossed his mind. However, he had never heard of a demon seeking refuge in such business since those places were too crowded to commit a proper murder.

"You're not wrong about this." Shinobu sat back in her seat and put her chopsticks on her empty plate before something caught her attention. What was this red bracelet around Giyuu's wrist? Had it always been there or did he get it recently?

A teasing smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards as she rested her chin on her palm, an index finger pointing at Giyuu's wrist. "Tomioka-san, did you get that wristband from someone special? I didn't know you were the type to be so romantic!" She chirped.

Blue irises gazed at the red threads laced into one thick wristband which was usually hidden underneath the sleeve of his uniform or haori, so no one really ever saw it. "It's nothing like that." Despite his nonchalant words, Giyuu couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

"Eh?! Are you smiling?!" Shinobu could hardly believe her eyes and felt a shiver run down her spine. This was..scary.

"..We're here to look for a demon, aren't we?"

Attentively, you sat close to a river, eyes wide and scanning the area for a familiar mop of black hair tied into a low ponytail. From afar, you could hear an old man giving someone the instruction to become one with the water in order to master the breathing techniques.

Just a moment later, a yell echoed through the mountains followed by a noisy splash and the yell got cut off.

"___-san really threw him into the river, huh," you chuckled as you remembered how you nearly drowned the first time the elderly man tossed you into the river like a rubber duck. Now it was the boy's turn.

Minutes of silence filled the space around you, only the water flowing in front of you filled the tranquil space and then, several gasps shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

The boy you had to look out for coughed up water as he dragged himself out of the river, his body soaked to the bone and what was that on his hand? Blood? He possibly cut himself on a stone underwater.

Leaping up from your seated position and jogging over to your friend, you gave his back a few firm smacks until he breathed normally again. "I feel like ____-san really wants to kill us," the boy looked up at you, but..you couldn't see his face. It was black.

"Speaking of dying. What was that on your hand?" you spoke and tried to get a look at the boy's hand, but he quickly hid his hands behind his back, pressing the back of his hands against his lower back. "___, show me!" You insisted and eventually, your friend showed you the cut on the back of his hand.

The cut wasn't deep, but it still bled profusely down his wrist. Clicking your tongue, you reached into your pocket and revealed simple bandages which you always kept with you in case you got injured. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" The boy saw the upset look on your face, brows furrowed and your eyes scolding him.

Wasn't it his friend that said that a man should bear his pain in silence?

"I'm sorry, [Name]," he avoided your gaze, focusing on the bracelet you had once made for him, instead. It was better than having to bear the disappointment in your eyes.

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around the boy's hand a bit too tight, making him flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

In a cold sweat, gasping for air, you suddenly sat straight in bed. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, your sleepwear was drenched in sweat at your neck and back, the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Putting a hand on your chest, you tried your best to control your breathing, but the more you tried, the more you could feel a headache stinging in the back of your head.

Whatever you just saw, it was a mere dream, right? Yet, one could usually hear names and see the faces of the people appearing in a dream, but whenever names fell, they were muted. Whenever you saw a face, it was covered in black.

They were nameless, faceless people.

Perhaps, this was a memory?

"Crap," you hissed as the stinging got to your eyes like a migraine and roughly pushed the blanket off your body as you got up to maybe talk about it with Mizu or someone else. Yes, you promised not to bother anyone with your dreams or past, but this left your hands and mind shaking.

Carefully, as to not make any noise, your bare feet padded along the wooden hallways, every shoji door was shut and no light was on, indicating that all of the women were busy with men downstairs. What a pain, you thought. Keeping married and single men pleased at night was something which never appealed to you, even though Mizu had raised you to possess the needed skills.

Lost in thought, you nearly missed how the light of several candles lit up a single room, the shoji door wasn't even fully closed. You finally found someone!

"I'm sorry for bothering you this late at night, but I was wondering ifㅡ"

You were greeted by the sight of blood being smeared across the wall and pooling right at your feet, bones sticking out from the corpse of the woman who had praised you earlier. Your head screamed at you to run, but your body didn't listen. It was itching to reach for something that wasn't strapped to your hip.

"It's a shame you had to see me like this, [Name]." Opaque hair was loose, red lipstick got replaced by the dead woman's blood which was also dripping down claws.

Mizu tossed the corpse away from her and faced you, slowly approaching you with cold steps. Her pupils were no longer round but resembled that of a cat. Smirking, she watched as your legs trembled in fear when she delicately cupped your face in her hand. "I promised myself to never eat you unless you saw me killing someone. But maybe it's exactly because you are my daughter that you'll be extra nutritious."

Horns made of bones stuck out from Mizu's head, resembling the ears of a bunny. At that very moment, you heard a voice inside your head.

"Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"Demon!" You gasped, pushed Mizu away from you with all the strength you had in your arms and made a run for it. Splinters dug into the soles of your feet, but you didn't care. What mattered was your survival, your life, the life Haruto and Tsutako left behind for you!

Wait, Haruto and Tsutako..? Who..?

You stopped dead in your tracks, the sound of Mizu's traditional heels rhythmically clicking against the floor haunted you.

Fleeing downstairs was no option. Innocent lives could easily be taken by Mizu and there was no way you could protect all of them when you couldn't even properly protect yourself. Panic-stricken, your eyes found nothing but paintings decorating the walls, a mere fan and a..

A katana!

Grabbing the katana from the wall, you held it with both hands as tightly as you could, the tip pointing at Mizu's neck.

"You're hilarious, [Name]! Don't tell me you're remembering now when it's too late." Mizu pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder as she laughed at your poor attempt to take her down. However, it seemed like your body was beginning to remember whatever a fragile human once taught you and it wasn't like you had completely forgotten how to move, either.

A laugh shook the demon's shoulders as she stretched her palm out and let a bone grow from her skin. Mizu pointed the sharp bone towards you, shooting it in your direction with the expectation to heavily injure you and kill you in the end.

What she didn't expect was the way you vertically cut through the bone, letting drop to the ground uselessly. Your jaw was clenched, eyes wide open with sweat trickling down your forehead and the katana in your hand like it had always belonged there.

"I don't know what you're saying, but I know that I can't let you live!" Zooming right in Mizu's face, you aimed for her stomach to weaken her, but she was faster. Grabbing your head, she effectively put you off-balance and rammed another bone into your side as if she saw no daughter in you.

"You've always had a funny side to you, but right now, you're looking like a jester. You, killing me? Not even you are that dumb." Mizu wore an unimpressed expression as you fell to your knees and coughed up blood. Hastily, you ripped a good amount of fabric from your yukata and tightly wrapped it around your waist to slow down the bleeding.

The demon never stopped you. Sooner or later, you'd faint and die from blood loss. This was nothing but a fool's attempt to desperately prolong their end.

"That katana can't kill me. As a former Demon Slayer, you should know that only a Slayer's blade and sunlight can kill a demon." A swift kick to your face had blood dripping down your nose, but your palm wrapped itself around Mizu's ankle tight enough to make your arm's veins pop, tight enough to prevent her, a demon, from moving.

"Breathing Techniques make it possible for a human to gain demonic strength themselves. But unlike demons, a human's stamina is limited."

Within a moment, Mizu's ankle was in your hand, her blood flowing down your forearm as you tossed the cut off limb away. Immediately, you pulled her into a close-range fight, but the several bones beginning to stick out from her body pushed you further away with each step you took. The sharp bones left cuts on not only your face, but your arms and legs as well.

"I don't care if it can't kill you! I refuse to go down without a fight! I'll simply keep you busy until the sun rises!"

Searching for that demon in Yoshiwara was a lost cause.

No one had any suspicions or those people were just too scared to talk, fearing that they might mysteriously disappear, as well. The tension in Yoshiwara spread far and wide, yet there wasn't even the trace of a demon to be found.

"We can't talk. Otherwise, we'll disappear, as well."

"Those women are said to have lost their footing, but.. No, it doesn't matter."

"..Whatever are you talking about?"

Excuses upon excuses. But Giyuu could hardly interrogate simple passengers and ask them about the existence of a being which they were unaware of or didn't believe in.

Frustrated, he shut the shoji door of his home and sighed.

Suddenly, a shrill clink bounced off the plain walls of Giyuu's home and as he raised his gaze, he saw the Nichirin sword ㅡ which was supposed to be yours if you had survived ㅡ on the floor, the steel shone in the moonlight peeking through the windows of his home.

His heart felt heavy as he wondered what color your katana would have become, how you would've wielded it, how bright your smile would've been if you had had the chance to receive it.

Giyuu picked the colorless weapon up, wanted to put it back on its place at the wall when suddenly his kasugai crow landed on the window sill, cawing so loudly that it made his ears ring.

"[Name] who was assumed to have died in the final selection 8 years ago, needs backup fighting a demon!" The old crow impatiently bounced around, wings already spread and ready to take off. "Hurry to Yoshiwara! Hurry, hurry! "

"[Name]..?" Gradually, Giyuu's usually calm gaze widened and filled with infinite questions while he was wordlessly staring at your sword. Why were you alive and how in the world did you survive? Why did you never come back? What held you back?

With a flick of his wrist, he hid the plain Nichirin blade in the sleeve of his mismatched haori and was out of his home faster than the crow could perceive.

The Hashira couldn't be late. He couldn't be late, again.

This time, he'd be the one to protect you.

"Get out of here!" You cried to the people who had been very obviously enjoying themselves with alcohol, food and women until Mizu had kicked you through the floor which was also the ceiling of the floor below.

No one seemed to fully realize what happened, reality only kicked in slowly when they took note of your battered form and Mizu coming down the stairs as elegantly as ever, but the blood on her and the aura she radiated created nothing but fear.

All of a sudden, they screamed and ran, talking about a monster possessing their beloved lady who was attempting to kill one of their own.

Making sure that everyone got out safely was a mistake. You didn't even realize Mizu leaving her spot on the stairs as she was suddenly right in front of you, way too close to be considered a safe distance. Crap, there was no way you'd get out of this unscathed.

The bone sticking out from Mizu's palm aimed for your right eye, ready to pierce through your skull and put an end to the prosperous life you could lead thanks to the demonic woman. In an act of despair, you swung your katana vertically in an attempt to cut off her arm, but Mizu just smirked as the blade got stuck, not even budging a centimeter, anymore.

This was it. This attack would be your downfall, you thought.

"Water Breathing. Second form: Water Wheel."

You stumbled backwards, falling on your knees and all your eyes could catch was Mizu's arm suddenly dropping to the ground along with the katana stuck in her flesh. Blood stained the carpet an ugly red, a loud hiss came from Mizu's direction, her pupils shaking and mouth unusually quiet.

"A..H-Hashira..?" Claws digged into the flesh of her palm bit by bit, her fist shook and goosebumps were scattered across her skin. Just the mere aura of that Demon Slayer terrified her; he was way too calm and yet she could feel racing anger bubbling underneath the surface. No, she couldn't let a mere human intimidate her. What ridiculous excuse of a demon would get intimidated by a man wielding a sword?

Hashira..?

Looking up, you saw the broad back of a man wearing a mismatched haori but what stood out to you was the red wristband he wore. It looked like the one around your wrist but could it be the same? What were the odds of two strangers wearing the same red bracelet? Impossible.

A sudden sting in your head interrupted your running mind.

Fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling at the roots.

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around Giyuu's hand a bit too tight, making the boy flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

Panting, you closed your eyes shut until it hurt. Why did you feel like you knew the man in front of you?

..Giyuu!" You finally yelled the man's name out like he was the answer to everything you had been looking for, like he was the missing piece to the puzzle of your life. Unknowingly, tears freely flowed from your eyes, making the cuts on your face sting and burn.

A quick move of his wrist was enough to flick Mizu's blood off his sword. "Don't you dare touch her!" Giyuu wasn't one to lose his calm demeanor often, but what he absolutely couldn't stand was the ones he cared for getting hurt, bruised, made to suffer.

You wiped the blood trickling from your mouth away with the back of your hand, lips tugging themselves upwards as you pushed yourself up to your feet once more and stood next to Giyuu. "I'll fight with you. This is a personal matter."

Giyuu was about to protest, tell you to leave this place, but the sharp shimmer cutting through your eyes immediately took down every word that was on his tongue. Never had you backed down from a fight, never had you let anything break you, never had you ever given up.

Wordlessly, he let the katana he hid in the sleeve of the haori, slide into his palm and handed it to you. As soon as your fingers were wrapped around the handle, the blade turned into a clear baby blue, several shades lighter than Giyuu's Nichirin blade.

"I'll handle the bones. You go for the head."

Giyuu dashed ahead while you cut your way through the maze of bones sticking out from wherever Mizu desired, her attacks got rougher as if she was suddenly frightened. Good. "You brat! Do you really think one more person would be enough to claim my head?!" Mizu stomped her foot once.

That stomping.. You were familiar with it.

It'd occur once every few months before a woman would go missing without a trace. This action always frightened you as the murderous intent in it was so overwhelming that unconsciously, tears would brim your eyes.

Quickly, you grabbed the back of Giyuu's haori and slid to the side with him before several rib-shaped bones dashed up from the ground, their sharp tips shining underneath the chandelier. If you hadn't been so familiar with Mizu's blood lust, you were sure you would've been pierced pork by now.

Thanks to the sliding, you had gotten close enough to Mizu, giving you the perfect opportunity to chop off her head before she could cause any more pain and damage. "Go!" You cried out loud enough for your voice to crack and swung your blade at Mizu's face to slice her horizontally, the demon stopping your blade with her bare hands.

"Water Breathing. First form: Water Surface Slash."

Giyuu had gotten behind Mizu and let his katana cut through the flesh of her neck, the head of the oiran sliding off her shoulders and her body collapsing to the ground. "Impossible!" She screeched in nothing but anger and disappointment at you.

"You ungrateful bitch! I saved and raised you and this is how you repay the favor?! How dare youㅡ!" Tears streamed down her cheeks while you were looking at her with a drained expression. Bruises and cuts stained your skin, not to mention the stab wound in your waist which was still bleeding. Bangs hid your eyes from her view, the smell of ash was strong in your nose.

"I'm very thankful that you raised me, gave me food and a roof above my head. I will never forget that. But making humans suffer by letting them die a painful death, eating them without a shred of guilt in your guts.." The grip on the katana's handle tightened in anger, sadness and grief as you remembered your brother, mother, Tsutako. All those people who were so brave and kind and dead. "Savior, Mother, whatever you are. I absolutely won't forgive you for this!"

"Do you think that matters?! You're nothing but a whore I raised! You, too, won't go to heaven and I'll wait for you in hell!" Before Mizu could spit any more words, her head and body dissolved into nothing, not even the ashes remained.

Slowly, you turned around to face Giyuu, a peaceful smile lingered on your lips as you stumbled towards the one your heart had been missing for longer than you could think. Strength left your hand and the katana Giyuu had tossed you earlier fell to the ground. "Giyuu.. I'm so happy you survived.." You tripped over your own two feet, about to fall, but it was okay.

Giyuu caught you.

"[Name], I.." He spoke, but soon noticed that you had fallen unconscious with your cheek pressed up against his chest, eyes closed and breathing so calmly in his strong arms. Serenity was written all over your face, despite the dirt, cuts, blood and pain you went through. You were at peace with Giyuu around just like when you two were children.

His stoic mask shattered as he pressed your unconscious body flush to his and buried a hand in your hair, his knees giving in and meeting the floor with a dull thud. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you earlier." Giyuu buried his face in your neck as he softly cried against your skin, a wave of immense relief hitting him at once.

At least, you weren't dead like the Hashira believed for nearly 10 years.

"I swear I'll make sure to protect you."

The sun was warm on your skin, gentle eyes focused on a blue butterfly which had entered through the open window and rested on your index finger. Its small legs tickled you ever so slightly and you struggled to hold in a giggle at the feeling.

After having fallen unconscious for a day or two, you woke up at the Butterfly Estate where three very sweet girls awaited you coming back to reality; you learned that their names were Sumi, Kiyo and Naho. They brought you everything you needed and frequently kept you company.

With your eyes opening once more, you also regained your memories. You remembered everything from the day you lost your parents, to the training with Urokodaki, Sabito and Giyuu, to the point you had desperately tried to reach your katana and passed out. Although a little bit of regret lingered at your soul, you couldn't find it in you to be upset with yourself.

Life continuously knitted several paths for one to take, but it was up to several strings of fortunate and unfortunate events alike which path they'd lead one on.

Anyone could say you were unlucky to have lost your memories and had to part ways with the ones you loved the most. But if you thought about it, you were very lucky. So very lucky that Mizu had taken you in, that she fought you and that a string of fate decided to intertwine Giyuu's and your path once more.

The butterfly on your finger flew away as the shoji door slid open and revealed no one else but Shinobu who had watched over your physical and mental state after the confrontation with Mizu. The Insect Hashira was incredibly kind and you felt like you developed some kind of friendship with her.

As she sat down on your bed to give you the last bit of medicine you had to swallow, you couldn't help but notice her eyes lingering on your wristband.

"How come you like Tomioka-san?"

You nearly choked on the pills, heat warmed up your cheeks and the tips of your ears while you stumbled over your words like a child tripped over rocks. "I-I what?! It's nothing like t-that, Shinobu!" Comically, you shook your head and threw your arms around as if that would convince the dark-haired woman.

"Oh? But Tomioka-san has the exact same wristband and when I asked him about it, he smiled. Do you know how scary that was?"

You couldn't bite back the laugh that ripped through you at Shinobu's words. The fact that Giyuu seemed to smile so rarely that it was considered creepy when he did it, was both ridiculous and funny to you.

On the other side of the shoji door, Giyuu wondered what could possibly make you laugh so much. He didn't ponder too much on it since this was a sound he hadn't heard in so long and was actually quite fond of. Not that the Water Hashira would ever say that out loud.

As Giyuu stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by your warm smile and despite the bandaids on your face and bandages around your arms, he was taken aback at how pretty you were. Even after 8 years, you still made his heart feel a certain, funny way with little to no effort at all.

"I guess I should leave the two of you alone. Although I can't deny that I'm surprised you like Tomioka-san enough to willingly be alone with him."

"I..am not disliked by people."

"That's all you have to say?" Shinobu wondered out loud and left the room, the shoji door closing behind her with a dull thud bouncing off the warmly-colored walls.

As Giyuu sat with you on the bed, you couldn't help but notice that his facial features got much sharper over the years, his demeanor became stoic, but you were quick to figure out that Giyuu hadn't grown jaded. Those he cared about, he would show his emotions to.

"Giyuu, Iㅡ"

Whatever you wanted to say got blown away as you suddenly found yourself in Giyuu's arms, your chin resting in his broad shoulder while his hands grasped at your clothes as if you were to disappear if he held you any lighter. "All this time, I thought you were dead."

Wrapping your arms around the tall Hashira, you easily melted into the heartfelt hug and felt relief as well as happiness prick at your eyes. You couldn't cry now. "I'm right here, Giyuu. I told you I'd never be far, remember?" Each syllable was a bit shakier than the previous one, but it made the feelings in your heart only grow firmer and deeper.

Affectionately, you wrapped your pinky around Giyuu's and brought the two intertwined fingers up to eye level while resting your forehead on his own. You basked in the closeness with the one you'd been aching to meet, swam in his calm aura and felt your heart skip several beats as if it had fallen.

A lump found home in Giyuu's throat and effectively cut off any word he could dream of saying. He wasn't used to anyone getting this close to him, wasn't used to someone being affectionate and gentle with him. And he certainly wasn't used to seeing your serene face after so, so long.

But he liked it.

"I'd never forget," Giyuu quietly confessed and felt your breath fan over his cheeks, a delicate smile tugging at his lips as the promise from your childhood was renewed. It was the first time you had seen Giyuu smile and contrary to Shinobu's words, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on.

Step by step, the sun began disappearing behind mountains and dipped the sky in a beautiful mix of orange, blue and pink. Soon, the stars would light up the sky and the moon would shine brightly.

But with the sun setting, it also meant that demons were about to crawl out from whatever hole they hid themselves in.

"Grab your sword, [Name]."

"Huh?"

Giyuu knew he was about to weave you into a life which could never be described as safe or domestic, but he never forgot that you had already decided to become a Demon Slayer when you two were children. He had seen the way you fought, backed him up and sensed a demon's blood lust.

After all this time, you never truly forgot who you were.

"It won't take long until the demons come out. Let's go."

You nearly fell from your bed as you hastily reached for your sword and a bit of confusion lingered in your mind. Just what was Giyuu thinking? It was hard to tell with his face barely moving like it used to.

"I never officially passed the final selection," you sighed and looked at the sword in your grasp which was once broken, lying right in front of you. "I can't just go with you..can I?"

Giyuu could feel doubt and insecurity seeping from you which definitely wasn't characteristic for you. When you fought Mizu, you were hell-bent on defeating her, despite the injuries you took. Was it guilt from back then making you doubt..?

"What happened 8 years ago is unfortunate, [Name]." Pitch black bangs threw a subtle shadow over Giyuu's eyes, but his voice was, dare you say, soothing. "But if you still want to fight, then I'll train you until the next final selection. Going on patrol with me is considered training."

It was okay for you to become a swordsman once again, right? Urokodaki didn't put you through hellish training and taught you everything he knew just for you to quit. With Giyuu's help, you could surely put an end to the existence of demons. Yes, you could do it!

Confidently, you strapped your Nichirin blade to your waist, grabbed Giyuu's hand and pulled him through the hallways of the Butterfly Estate until you were finally outside. "Then what are we waiting for? Training is about to begin!"

Faintly, Giyuu could hear Shinobu, Aoi and the three girls bid their goodbyes. His eyes fell down to your hand holding his tightly with the wristbands nearly touching one another.

Perhaps, you were really bound by the wrist and though the red threads got heavily tangled along the way, it never got severed.

#tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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biderboy · 4 years ago

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I Miss You || P.P + The Marauders

description- peter reminisces in what he had before the war

tw - mention of death, violence, and abuse

November 3rd, 1981

peter laid on his back, staring at the old, battered ceiling above him. there were rips and tears, holes covering most it.

he was alone, not that surprising. he’d been alone for awhile now, even before that night.

he winced, closing his eyes before the tears had a chance to surface.

it’s been 3 days.

he could remember the way james’ eyes filled with regret, swirling with the disappointment he no doubt felt the moment he caught peter’s eyes.

he could remember the way he frantically deserved for his wand, but peter knew it was too late, james’ wand laid heavy in his pocket, and peter’s hands shook as he watched his best friend call out to the love of his life, his dying breath begging them to run.

peter winced, he didn’t deserve to call james his best friend, not after what he did.

but he could remember the sickening sound of james’ body hitting the floor, he remembers the flash of light, the laughs surrounding him as his blood rushed to his ears and he struggled to breathe, as if he was the one hit with the killing curse.

and when he walked past, james was clutching onto a necklace he was wearing. peter had to will the tears out of his eyes, that was their necklace.

each marauder had one, a necklace enchanted with their magic, just like the map, so none of them were ever alone.

even remembering it now, peter felt a tear fall from his face. james died clutching that necklace, and peter didn’t even deserve to be thinking of him.

peter didn’t deserve to be thinking about any of them, yet for the past 3 days it was all he could do.

sit in this room, in some abandoned house in the woods, laying on this bed, holding onto a pillow as if it was a life source.

he hadn’t eaten, or drank anything really. he figured he didn’t deserve it, a slow, painful death would be the closest to what he did deserve.

all he’d done was sit and think. he hadn’t let himself cry, or make any noise. but he wanted to, he desperately wanted to. he anted to rip the house apart around him, he wanted to scream until the gods brought james back, he wanted to scratch at the mark on his arm, he wanted to yell for someone to hold a wand to his throat, or at the very least, knock some of his teeth in.

he wanted to break and break and never stop breaking.

the deaths may have not come from his wand, but the blood was still on his hands.

not that the world knew that, no, they thought sirius had done it. sirius black, of all people. sickening, for them to think he’d ever be as low as peter.

peter could remember him too, the way his hands shook and his teeth gritted as his gripped his wand so tight his fingers turned white. he remembered sirius running, tears streaming down his face with cries of “why?” and “how could you?” falling from his lips.

peter wishes he had an answer for him, he wishes he knew.

but in reality he had no reason, he was not tortured, he was not manipulated, nobody was held hostage, nothing. he just did it.

and peter reckons that’s the worst part.

most people have a reason, most people have a story, a loss, something to fight for. and yet peter did not.

he reckons that makes him the worst kind of monster.

he held the pillow a little tighter, breath picking up in his chest.

remus, oh remus.

remus was on a mission, he very well was probably still on that mission.

what would he do? will someone send him a letter? or will dumbledore visit him himself?

will remus be okay? james and sirius, both gone. remus will break down. remus will claw at his skin, throw himself at walls, let himself be used as a rag doll. remus will spend full moons alone again.

peter’s heart stopped.

remus would be alone. remus will get hurt. remus’ wolf won’t know what to do, it’ll rip him apart. remus won’t be able to patch himself up, he won’t be able to get help. remus might just let his wolf ruin him. remus might die too.

“no, no, no.” peter whimpered, shaking his head, breath becoming quicker.

‘sirius will die too’ a voice whispered back to him, and peter squeezed his eyes tighter, willing the bad thoughts to go away, just for one moment.

they can’t die, they can’t. peter doesn’t want them to die, peter didn’t mean for them to die. he was suppose to save them, they can’t die.

peter was pushed back into memories he wished he could forget, but desperately clung onto.

i. peter could feel the blood rushing to his head, could feel his own heart racing to get out of his chest. it was too loud, there was too many people, their magic was overwhelming.

peter wanted to cry, he felt the tears swelling in his eyes. he just wanted to go home.

he gasped as he felt a hand slip in his, turning to his right, he saw a flash of a smile so bright it rivaled the suns, long black hair, blue eyes, sirius.

he tugged on his hand, leading peter away from the crowded common room, into the quiet, safe place of their dorm. leading peter to sit on james’ bed before crouching in front of him.

“pete? are you alright?” his soft voice carried through the room, past the blood clouding peter’s ears, rushing through his body like a deep breath of relief, to have something to familiar.

peter tried to nod, tried to tell him he was okay, he was fine. but his body wouldn’t listen, and instead the overwhelming pressure of the entire day crushed him, letting the tears he’d been so desperately trying to keep at bay, fall.

sirius was quick, eyes scanning to make sure peter wasn’t hurt, before gently pulling the 15 year old to his chest, combing his finger through his hair as he hummed a tune peter could not make out.

peters hands came to clutch at sirius jacket, gripping tightly like it was the only thing keeping him from sinking into the earth, and letting it swallow him whole.

sirius was patient, letting peter cling to him, letting him cry, and he just sat there, holding him together, softly singing.

sirius was always this soft, this gentle, with peter. he cared like an older brother, wiping his tears, promising him it would be okay, swearing not to leave his side. sirius always said what peter needed to hear, sirius was always there when peter was overwhelmed.

now was no different, as he pulled away, using his sleeve to wipe the tears from peters face.

“would you like to take a nap?” he asked gently, gesturing to the giant pile of blankets james’ kept on his bed. sirius did not question if peter was okay, he knew he wasn’t, or if he wanted to talk, he knew he didn’t.

peter nodded, scooting up on the bed, letting himself be wrapped in a blanket that smelled too much like james, but was glad for the familiar comfort. and managed to smile when sirius plopped next to him, his won blanket wrapped around him.

and sirius just stayed there, gently humming that same song, letting peter bask in the presence of not being alone, as long as he needed.

no words needed to be said, peter eventually drifted off to sleep, welcoming the comfort sirius radiated, like the stars on the darkest nights.

and when peter woke up, sirius was still there, reading some muggle book he got, and peter realized then that sirius wouldn’t leave him. that sirius was his brother. that sirius loved him.

ii. peter hated eating alone. it reminded him of his house, how he’d sit at the kitchen table hearing his parents argue, forcing himself to finish the food in front of him so he could go back to his room.

he hated being alone in general, but especially when he was eating. but james had quidditch practice, and sirius was in detention, so he sat down for dinner alone.

granted there was other gryffindors, lily evans was just a few spots down, marlene was with her as well, but he wasn’t that close to them, he didn’t feel safe with them.

peter picked at his food, moving it around with his fork as he felt a sickening feeling wash over him, he hated it. maybe he’d take the food back to the dorm, atleast he’d be in his bed rather than surrounded by people who didn’t notice him.

yet, before he could make a move, someone say down in front of him. peter made a move to look up, eyes going over the tan sweater, landing on a scar ridden face he’d never been happier to see.

“moony” he breathed out, relief washing over him as remus gave him his signature small smile.

“hiya peter, you left without me.” his soft voice carried over the great hall, making peter feel better, safe.

remus was there, casually keeping conversation about the astronomy homework. he kept eye contact with peter, making him feel like the rest of the world dimmed out, and it was just the small safe bubble of friendship, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

especially when remus offered an extra roll, eyes slighlty crinkled around the edges as he smiled. it reminded peter of home, not of the yelling and old rooms, not of the way he mother looked at him durning the summer.

no, it reminded him of laughs shared under stars light, of guitar strings playing loudly in common rooms, of lollipops and chocolate frogs, of train rides and quidditch games.

remus reminded him of home, the home he had here. the one that kept him safe, kept him loved, the home he had built with the marauders. the home they all deserved.

iii. james potter was the human embodiment of the sun, peter was well aware. the same way sirius was the stars, and remus was the moon.

james was always there, even when peter was a kid. to open his arms and welcome him to the light, make sure he was safe.

james was always there, for as long as peter could remember, and he was there every time he needed him.

peter felt his body want to give in as he stepped onto the platform, he mother hadn’t sent him off, not that she genuinely had in years, but she didn’t even bother this year. a push out the door, a threat to try and come back, and that was all.

peter was tired, emotionally, physically. he wasn’t even sure he wanted to get on that train, rather just take whatever he had in his trunk and run off to some muggle town he’d finally be at peace in.

and he was debating, it was their last year at hogwarts, he didn’t need to be there, not really. the war was raging on, the classes he’d take wouldn’t even matter if he died after one step into the real wizarding world.

and plus, the marauders would be fine without him, he thought bitterly. the sun, the moon, the stars. there was no room for him, and that was fine. it was okay, they all looked so happy together, they belonged. he was happy for them, it’s all he ever wanted.

peter went to go turn around, to really leave, when he heard it. a shout, so distinctive it made his heart race and his head turn around.

“PETE!”, and there he was, the sun himself, arms spread wide, giant smile on his face. his trunk was thrown carelessly beside him, as james stated to walk towards peter.

and almost as if james knew, as if he could take one look at peter and tell, he wrapped his arms around him, engulfing him in the warmest, most secure hug he’d had in months.

“missed you peter, you didn’t visit this summer.” there was almost a pout in his voice that made peter stifle a laugh, letting himself be squeezed against the boy tighter, letting his own arms wrap around james and practically melt into the affection.

“sorry” he mumbled, burying his face in james’ chest, eyes closed to prevent tears from falling, what a baby, he thought.

“‘s okay, just not the same without you.” and that, james always knew what to say. what to do. peter felt like he didn’t belong, like he was floating away, but james pulled him back to the ground, every time.

peter wanted to cry, feeling at home with his best friend. he couldn’t imagine why he thought he could do it without him, without them. because here, now, waiting for remus and sirius on the platform, peter finally let himself breathe, let himself feel.

and he felt like he belonged.

tears were finally falling, as peter grasped righting to the pillow, burying his face into it as if it would stop the sobs that raked his body.

it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t.

flashes of smiles and warm hands, star nights and study groups, flying and crashing muggle towns went through his head.

he tried to shake them out, make them stop. he didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to think about what he had, what he ruined.

but his brain never listened, and the universe was no longer on his side.

as he thought, without the sun, without the moon, without the stars, the universe was nothing. without them, peter was nothing.

a horrid sob ripped from his throat, his whole body shook, it was cold, but he deserved it.

his hands desperately grabbed into his own necklace, ripping it off his chest and throwing it across the room, a dull thump making its way to his ears.

“i miss you.” he sobbed, as if it would bring them back, as if it would take him back in time, to when remus would wipe his tears, and sirius would read out loud, and james would rush into a hug.

but it didn’t, and it never would.

“i miss you.”

#a peter fic??? woah #kinda nice isn’t it😩#peter pettigrew #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew angst #sirius black angst #james potter angst #remus lupin angst #the marauders angst #the marauders fic #the marauders era #the marauders #hp fic #angst #hp angst #sorin writes

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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autumn leaves | l.i.b. finale

→ summary: and in the end, we fall because we have no other choice. some get up easier than others, and we bury the ones who never do.

→ pairing: ??? x reader → genre: angst, humor, fluff, lib!au → warnings: tae gets hurt a little but its an accident (he’s fine dw), small blood mention (from aforementioned accident), rage moments (rip lol), heartbreak (yum!), a happy ending (?) → words: 7.7K → a/n: oh my god we’re at the end?? after two months of SUFFERING?? how can this be happening?? lol but seriously thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. writing lib was honestly so much fun, and it’s been a while since i’ve been able to kinda go “all-out” or whatever. i’m kind of nervous with this ending, but hopefully it’s something everyone will be able to enjoy. peace!!

prev // part 38 of 38 masterlist here. [series completed]

October 1, 2020 — 6:18 PM

Min Yoongi’s phone feels like it's burning a hole into his back pocket. It’s a heavy presence, weighing like concrete enough to bend his spine. His hands itch to reach for it, to check for messages he knows he won’t receive. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—desperately and senselessly, that if he wishes hard enough, then maybe it’ll come true.

I should be glad that she isn’t calling me, he tries to convince himself. The itch continues to grow, licking at the back of his mind like a fire begging to be extinguished. I should trust her decision. I should be proud of her. But there’s always been a difference, after all, to what Yoongi should do and what he wants. It’s a difference that he has fought to ignore for years now.

“Hyung,” a soft voice calls out to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. Yoongi blinks slowly out of his trance, his eyes dry from staring out his car window for too long. He doesn’t turn in his seat, refusing to face his companion in the backseat. “Hyung,” the voice calls out again, this time shaking him vigorously enough that Yoongi has no other choice but to turn lest his shoulders get dislocated.

“What do you want, Jimin?” Yoongi growls, sneering at the boy. Jimin smiles sheepishly, but he doesn’t back down under his glare.

“Sorry. You were gripping the wheel so tightly that I was scared you were going to break it.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to his tone, betraying his worry. Yoongi releases the wheel at once, switching to picking at the rips in his jeans instead.

“Didn’t notice. Sorry for snapping at you, I was just…” Yoongi trails off, expression glazing over once more. What was he trying? What was he doing here?

Jimin’s pupils flit all over Yoongi’s face, searching for something. “We’re not going to bring her home anymore?” he asks, but there’s a note of finality there. He knows that they aren’t going home with them tonight, at least not right now. They’ve been parked a block away from Namjoon’s childhood home for a few hours now, sitting in Yoongi’s car and waiting to see if you needed them to help you escape. Jimin has been watching Yoongi all the while, keeping track of the small changes in his friend’s expression.

They are hard to pinpoint sometimes, but Jimin sees them all. He sees the way Yoongi’s brow furrows slightly, sees the way his teeth nibble on his lips in worry, sees the way his head jerks every time he hears a sound, thinking that it might be his phone about to ring. Yoongi is like a pot about to boil over, hardly keeping everything together.

To many people, Yoongi often appears to be as unmoving as a rock. He hardly allows his emotions to control him, and he has always been proud to call himself a level-headed person. And for the most part, Jimin agrees with that. Yoongi is and always will be someone who thrives in times of turmoil, someone who relies on his wit to get him through adversity. He seldom gets angry, rarely raises his voice, never acts cruelly. He’s the person that everyone in their friend group often comes to for advice and support, as he’s always the one who seems to have the right thing to say.

But all those things begin to crumble, however, when it comes to you.

Yoongi is still human, too. He bends, he breaks, he yields—and he does so, especially for you.

“No, we’re not bringing her home,” Yoongi replies. The admission is there, hidden in plain sight. His words are laced with defeat, but it is a defeat that has been accepted long ago. Long before his text conversation with you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jimin asks, not unkindly. Even still, Yoongi winces. Jimin’s real question is there, hidden in plain sight as well. What are you waiting for?

Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against the wheel. He hears Jimin shift in his seat, feels his presence get closer as he leans forward to place a comforting hand on his back. “Nothing,” he says. He breathes deeply through his nose and counts to three. Releases it. “We are waiting for nothing.”

Jimin hums and says nothing more. They sit there in silence for a bit longer, watching the sun’s final moments in the sky before the moon takes its place. The street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in its dusty yellow luminescence. Under the lights, Yoongi’s skin looks tired and worn, like a paper that has been crumpled and smoothed over multiple times.

“I wonder if they’ve finished speaking by now,” Yoongi says suddenly. He still hasn’t moved from his position, his face hidden from view. It almost looks like he hadn’t spoken at all, but Jimin had heard him. He looks at Yoongi in surprise but keeps his silence. Jimin can feel the beginnings of something about to break, and he is afraid that if he makes a sound, it might stop. Even stones break in the end.

“I doubt it. They have a lot of shit to talk about. Too much, in fact.” Yoongi sounds exhausted, his words slurring together like he’s falling asleep. But he’s never been more wide awake. “I’d have a lot to say if I were them. But I’m not them, nor will I ever be.”

Yoongi tilts his head high enough that he can rest his chin on the wheel instead. He stares blankly at the quiet street, listens intently to the sound of the wind beating gently against his car. Parked out there, in the middle of a small neighborhood in Ilsan, far away from the bustling streets of the city, he can almost trick himself into thinking that he’s the only person in the world—

“You love her.”

—but he isn’t alone.

Jimin says it without a shade of doubt. He says it like it's a simple truth of life, like there is no other possible way Yoongi could feel otherwise. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Min Yoongi is in love with you.

“Yes,” Yoongi breathes it out, the confession tumbling through his lips with quiet ease. It does not struggle; it does not resist. It just is. “I’ve loved her before I even knew it myself, I think.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love at first sight,” Jimin says it lightly, teasingly. There’s a shrivel of truth to it though, but Yoongi will deny it to his dying day; it’ll hurt less if he does.

“I think it started a year ago. When I was preparing for my junior year exhibition.” Yoongi remembers the long nights working until his hands bled, the recurring nightmares eating at his mind, the fear climbing his spine like a tightrope pulled taut. It’s one of the only times when he had bitten more than he could chew, piling impossible expectations onto himself. In those long three weeks of constant anxiety nipping at his heels, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be human. That is, until…

“She saved me. She taught me to slow down, to be compassionate to myself. She didn’t judge me or scold me or hurt me. She just… cared.” Yoongi exhales, clenching his eyes shut. He can see it in his head: your soft hands carding through his hair, whispering assurances and praise into his ears, guiding him to his bed and staying with him until he’d fallen asleep soundly for the first time in days. “Slowly but surely, I started to fall for her. There was just no other way. My heart refused to have it any other way,” he says.

Jimin hums. “I’d always guessed, but I never thought it was that early. You do have an awful habit of staring, hyung. Sometimes I feel like you have to remind yourself to blink.”

Yoongi laughs, hollow sounding. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

Jimin’s question is expected. It should be an easy one to answer, but Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s easy to say that he knew Jungkook and you already loved each other long before he realized his feelings, and Yoongi was the last person on earth who would do anything to hurt either of you to fulfill his desires. It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

So instead, Yoongi responds, “It’s because I’m a hypocrite.” When he doesn’t elaborate, he sees Jimin give him a confused look from the rearview mirror.

Yoongi chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. His mouth feels like acid, as if bile had risen up his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but it would hurt more later if he didn’t suck the poison out right here and now. “Nevermind about that. The point is, I lost my chance and I don’t regret it. Yeah, it fucking hurts like a bitch, but what am I going to do? Cry about it? We’ve all known since the beginning that if anyone is going to get a happy ending, it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jimin says, frowning slightly. He had spoken so sternly that it impelled Yoongi to straighten up in his seat and turn to stare at him. It’s quite unlike Jimin to be anything but friendly and kind, so seeing him so severe is disconcerting. Though, it did manage to shut Yoongi up immediately.

“This is not the end of the world. You are not going to end up unloved or forgotten. There are people who love you, people who will love you. Don’t you remember? Those were the same words you told me when I got my heart broken the first time,” Jimin says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Yoongi’s gaze flies to Jimin’s fists, clenched tightly by his sides.

Of course, Yoongi remembers. It’s hard to forget the sight of Park Jimin sobbing relentlessly into his shoulder, fat tears falling like raindrops and down his flushed cheeks. He remembers saying the same words to you, too. He wonders, not for the first time, if his words are as ineffective to you as they are to him right now.

“I know,” Yoongi says. He switches the engine on and watches his dashboard light up. The radio turns on, the last notes of a ballad playing through the speakers. Yoongi puts his hand on the wheel, carefully not to grip too tightly this time. It’s a start, he thinks.

They go home, leaving without looking back.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 9:20 PM

Kim Taehyung locks his bedroom door the moment he gets home, after casting a furtive glance at the closed door across from his. He does not know what he expects; the door across from him has been closed for almost a week now. The entire apartment is still, but he is not alone. The ghost who lives in the other bedroom still haunts him, in more ways than one.

He drops his bag to the floor, still cradling a small bouquet of camellias that was slightly crushed when he had bumped into someone in the elevator. He unpeels the plastic wrapping, gently placing them into the vase near his windowsill. He fingers the vibrant pink petals, but they don’t brighten his room the way they once did. It still feels dark, but he has a sinking suspicion that he had nothing to do with his lights.

It’s me. I’ve changed.

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, it’s okay. Everything is fine. You’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, the door across the hall begs to differ.

Typically, this shouldn’t be a problem for him. When everything is said and done, Taehyung is used to this happening. The closed doors, the unopened texts, the cold shoulders. It’s all a process that Taehyung has lived through for years.

Guilt: an emotion that Taehyung has become accustomed to. Abandonment: an action that Taehyung has learned to anticipate. Isolation: a lifestyle that Taehyung has mastered. Every relationship with Kim Taehyung will always lead to these three things, so it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is.

But over the last three years, he’d grown comfortable. The people around him had convinced him unknowingly, planting seeds of hope and optimism in a garden he had thought to be infertile. For once in his life, Taehyung had found a home in these people, and he’d do anything in his power to keep it safe.

Or at least, he thought he did.

His original intentions had been guileless; he wanted to help Jungkook because he was his friend. Jungkook had been his first friend in university—if he wanted to be honest, then Taehyung would even say that Jungkook was his first friend in his entire life. The boy was kind-hearted and supportive, wrapped perfectly with a goofy personality. Of course, Taehyung wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s faults, but he was sure that Jungkook didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He had decided back then that he could trust this one, and once he had allowed Jungkook into his life, the rest followed suit.

It was easy to empathize with Jungkook because he was just so… awkward. It was like watching a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, except Jungkook had long since outgrown his baby status and should have been independent long ago. Taehyung and everyone knew this about him, but they still gave him the benefit of the doubt. They mentored him, guided him, manipulated him in the wrong ways in hopes of hastening him to change. That was until…

Everything fell apart. Taehyung understood long before the fall that he had played a considerable part in Jungkook’s ruin. His negligence, his willful involvement in worsening the situation had exacerbated everything. He had ignored the signs, had barrelled through with his plans without another thought, all because he allowed himself to be blind to what he truly wanted out of this mess.

If he genuinely wanted to be a friend to Jungkook, he would’ve stopped interfering way before you had gone to Ilsan that one fateful weekend in August. He’d been aware he was doing more harm than good to everyone around him, including himself.

No, he stopped wanting to help Jungkook a long time ago. It had turned into his own personal agenda.

“Fuck!” Taehyung screams into the night sky, slamming his hands against the wall. He grabs the nearby vase, smashing it against the floor and scattering water, petals, and glass across the floor. The impact causes a few shards to imbed themselves into his shin, but he does not mind them, for he does not feel them.

He breathes heavily, gritting his teeth in unspeakable rage. He’s angry, so furious. This red hot searing rage builds up in his body until he starts to feel dizzy, his vision blurred with tinges of black. Why is he mad? Who is he mad at?

Is he mad at Jungkook? Yes, but that isn’t new. He’s been angry at Jungkook for a while now. It frustrates him to no end how lucky Jungkook is without even knowing. How easily love comes to him, how pain and misfortune had never been in his vocabulary until just recently. Jungkook had you, Yoongi, and Jimin for longer than he has. Jungkook has been swaddled in affection since the start but has always been too stupid to see. If he had just stopped being so cowardly, he could have easily gotten the person he loves without anyone’s help.

If he just learned to ask, if he just learned to stop fucking locking his goddamn door—

Just like Taehyung.

They are two sides of the same coin, and it scares him.

This raw, unadulterated rage is not about Jungkook, but himself. It was always about him.

He lets out one last defiant shout at the frigid sky before dropping to his bed in defeat. The fury subsides as quickly as it comes, but it only leaves a desolate landscape inside of him.

He does not know for how long he lies there. When he stands, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. “Appropriate,” he mutters to himself. He limps over to his door, hobbling to the adjacent bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. When he opens the door, Taehyung does not notice the small white box placed in front of his doorway. He nearly trips over it, saving himself by latching onto the wooden frame. He glances down, picking up the box gingerly when he sees a small sticky note tacked on top of it.

If you need help, just knock.

Taehyung looks across the hall. The door is still closed, but the person behind it is not.

His grip on the first-aid kit tightens. The first step is always the hardest.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 1:03 PM

When you had run the moment you spotted Jungkook, Jung Hoseok had chosen to stay behind. He had pushed Jungkook to go after you, had yelled at him when Jungkook had hesitated for that one split second.

“Go!” he shouted, jolting Jungkook to his senses. He sprinted off, but not before giving Hoseok one last look back. Hoseok put on his bravest smile at him, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t give up yet!”

Even now, ten minutes later, his throat still feels scratchy from how loud he had been.

He sits by the curb where he had parked his parents’ car. Namjoon sits beside him, a few inches apart. The autumn wind sends chills down his back, the afternoon sun doing its best to keep him warm. Though, he reckons that half the cold is because of the weather.

Hoseok clears his throat at the same moment Namjoon does. They share a glance, the beginnings of a smile playing on their lips. They look back to the ground, avoiding each other once more. Hoseok taps indiscernible beats with his feet while Namjoon draws shapes in the air with his fingers.

Hoseok tries again. “Umm. Namjoon,” he mumbles tentatively. He doesn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know. I’ve known you since before you even learned how to walk.” Namjoon beats him to it, like always. “I can guess what you want to say.”

Hoseok hazards a glance at him. His friend is tanner than he remembers, the summer months having done well on his skin. He almost giggles when he notices the line where the edge of his shirt sleeve meets his bicep, the stark contrast of color evident whenever Namjoon moves his arm. It has been a while since he has seen Namjoon with a tan line, as Hoseok was usually there to remind him to put sunscreen on before leaving the house.

Usually.

Hoseok sobers up, the momentary amusement evaporating just like that. How is it that in only one month, so many things have changed between them?

“What do you think I want to say?” Hoseok responds. He tries to keep his voice level and cool, but he knows that Namjoon notices the small ways in which he falters. Namjoon knows how he rubs his neck when he’s nervous, how his ears get red when he’s embarrassed. He memorizes the exact time it takes for Hoseok’s mouth to downturn, forming into his signature pout.

He knows all these things and more. And yet, how could Namjoon possibly know the traitorous things that he has done?

“I think… you got sidetracked,” Namjoon says slowly, carefully. When Hoseok glances at him again, he finds that Namjoon is looking back. He has a contemplative expression on his face, his jaw clenched in the same way that it does when he’s solving a tough problem. “I think you wanted to help me get together with her, didn’t you? At least, in the beginning.”

“I still do,” Hoseok admits, breaking his gaze once more. He stares up ahead, where the park is bustling with children and their families. He watches a small boy swinging on a swing set, while another boy pushes him higher and higher. “Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you texted me while you were freaking out over how you were falling in love with her?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Of course. How could I forget? I’m still freaking out about it now.”

“I was just… worried about you, you know? I’m always worried about you,” Hoseok says. The boy on the swing set is still going, but one extra strong push from his friend causes him to tumble, landing face-first into the ground. The nearby adults begin to panic, but the boy rises unsteadily, dirt caked onto his scratched up face. But when he faces his friend, he’s smiling and laughing like he has just won the lottery.

“Not an unfounded concern,” Namjoon chuckles, causing Hoseok to put on a small smile. His laughter dies as quickly as it comes. “Was that the time you decided to help me?”

“I’ve wanted to help you since the beginning, but that was the first time I actually did something about it.” Hoseok’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms sweaty despite the chilly weather. “I only wanted to find out if Jungkook really liked her or not. I wanted to know if you had a chance before you fell any deeper because I didn't want you to get hurt.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Hoseok continues. “Even when he admitted that he did love her, I could sense that there was a huge chance things weren’t going to work between them as long as if some things were just… pushed in the right direction.” His voice grows smaller the more and more he speaks, the guilt feeling heavy against his windpipe. But Hoseok is determined to tell him, no matter what happens. It’s the least that Namjoon deserves.

“I suppose, in this case, it would be the wrong direction,” Namjoon hums, but he doesn’t appear angry or upset. Not yet, at least. From the corner of Hoseok’s eye, he sees him nod for him to go on.

“Yeah. I could tell he was insecure, and that insecurity was prone to growing into jealousy,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots just to give his hands something to do other than to quiver. “I noticed that he shuts down whenever he’s cornered, so that’s what I did. I kept pushing him, forcing him to admit his wrongdoings but never berating him for them. So, in turn, he began relying on me for comfort instead of his friends.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t feel bad for it at first. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s all for Namjoon in the long run.’ But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t keep helping you without hurting Jungkook in the process. I was manipulating this poor boy, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Hoseok waits for Namjoon to react. He can’t bear to look at him, far too ashamed even to consider turning. He’s sure he’ll find disgust in his kind friend’s eyes, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from running if he saw it. But Namjoon refuses to speak, probably not until Hoseok finishes his piece.

“Jungkook didn’t deserve what I did to him. All the things he did is nothing in comparison to the punishment I inflicted on him, especially when it was never my place to do so. I fed the monster inside of him when he was nothing but a boy who was just scared. Then, just when he still had a shot at redemption, when she was still willing to listen to him, it was also me who ruined everything. I told her about all the bad things he had done. I told her about—”

“The thing about Jungkook paying to spread that rumor,” Namjoon speaks so suddenly that Hoseok nearly chokes in surprise. He had been so quiet that he scarcely even seemed to breathe. “You told her about it, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes, I did. She told you about it?”

“Yeah. She never informed me who told her, but I suppose it makes sense. But there was something else you said, wasn’t there? Something even she wouldn’t tell me.”

Hoseok nods his head sadly. “Yes. I think she was probably more hurt to find out that Jungkook had been ignoring her in favor of hanging out with me. Indirectly, I fed into her jealousy, but instead of comforting her, I intensified her guilt.”

Beside him, Namjoon releases a shaky breath. “You brought me up.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it; after all, Hoseok has always been a terrible liar.

“Did you tell her..?” The question hangs heavily in the air, but Namjoon doesn’t have to finish it for Hoseok to understand.

“No, I didn’t tell her you love her. I just mentioned how she was hurting you by loving Jungkook. That’s all. I don’t think she even had the chance to understand what I meant.”

There’s a moment of silence. The two boys sit side by side, looking to all the world like friends just enjoying an autumn afternoon together. The sounds of children singing, of parents chatting, of lovers laughing try their best to fill the space, but the gap is already too big to mend. At least, not immediately.

“Okay.”

Hoseok startles once more, this time managing to gather enough courage to take a peek at Namjoon. He keeps his eyes low, staring at the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he repeats.

Namjoon shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s done. All we can do now is wait, I guess.”

“But… you’re not..?”

“Mad at you? No, I’m not. Am I hurt? Incredibly so.” Namjoon swallows thickly, his chin wobbling as he finds the strength to keep his tears at bay. “But I can tell you found your way back to the light, and I’m more relieved that you realized your mistake more than anything. I forgive you, but just know that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

“That’s already more than I deserve, Joon,” he says shakily. He feels a hand snake around his own, and he looks down to find their fingers laced together. On Namjoon’s wrist, the bracelet he had made for him in the 7th grade is frayed and mangled, but still ever-present. “But… what now? If they truly end up fixing everything, will you be okay with it? If Jungkook is still fighting for her… why aren’t you?”

“Same goes for you, I suppose,” Namjoon says simply. He doesn’t explain what he means by that, but Hoseok is honestly too afraid to ask. He’s always felt like Namjoon knew a little bit too much about things that he shouldn’t. He smiles, but there is a tinge of melancholy there.

Just out of reach, the way Namjoon has always seemed to be.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 5:12 PM

At first, Jeon Jungkook is surprised to find the park more empty than when he was here a few hours ago. He supposes it is only to be expected, as dinner time is fast approaching and all the families have returned to their homes, preparing for the festivities. In another life, he might have been one of those families, sitting around a table with his brother and parents and eating to his heart’s content. Perhaps he might’ve asked you to join him, just like you had in the past.

He finds you seated on one of the benches near the entrance, kicking away fallen leaves absentmindedly. He takes this moment to observe you from afar, his breath getting caught in his throat when he realizes how long it has been since he last saw you.

His heart aches, the constant heaviness that has made a home in his chest growing tenfold. There are no words to explain the plethora of emotions flying through his head, but all he knows is that at the root of it all, he simply just misses you.

You hear him approach him before you see him. When he looks at you, Jungkook doesn’t know how you’re feeling. He used to be so good at anticipating your mood, always the first one to sense when you were upset or annoyed. Now, you just looked… blank, and for some reason, that hurts to see more than if you had been angry.

Jungkook stops right in front of you, his black boots crunching on dead leaves. You motion for him to take a seat beside you, patting the bench lightly.

“Hi. It’s been a while,” you say softly. You aren’t looking at him, and your hair obstructs him from viewing your face.

“Hello,” he replies, feeling dumb. He can’t think of anything better to say, all the things he had prepared in his mind suddenly blown away with the wind. The sight of you alone makes his mouth go dry, his hands to grow cold and clammy. He realizes, not for the first time, how terribly out of his depth he is.

“This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” he agrees. “It’s almost laughable how long it’s taken us to get to this moment.”

You bark out a laugh, the hoarse sound ringing in the air. “Laughable is certainly one way to put it, I guess.”

“Then why did you ignore me for so long? Why did you suddenly shut me out when you told me you wanted to talk? What happened?” He speaks without meaning to, the words flying out of his mouth before he can think of stopping. If his sudden inquiry startles you, you don’t show it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shrug, pushing back some of your hair behind your ear. He can see the slope of your nose, the outline of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He memorizes all these things about you, sees you in his dreams and nightmares, but nothing can ever beat real life.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start: two words heavy with meaning. What does he apologize for first? The rumors? The jealousy? The betrayal? It wouldn’t matter which one he chooses to tackle first because he already knows sorry isn’t going to cut it, but he has to try at least. This isn’t really about him anymore or about asking for forgiveness. You deserve to know everything he’s done—if you wanted to know, that is.

You blink rapidly, but your eyes are dry. “I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” you say, and it hurts the both of you when you do. Jungkook feels his insides clench, feels his heart collapse in his chest. “I don’t trust you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I…” Jungkook has to take a few shuddering breaths, his vision going blurry as he tries to keep it together. He waits for the pain to ebb, but it flows like a river down his veins. “I hurt you a lot. It’s only right that you don’t trust me.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” you say, sniffling. You still aren’t crying, but your nose is red from the cold. He wonders how long you had sat here waiting for him to arrive. How long have you been waiting for him in general?

“I have a lot of those, too,” he says. “I regret being unfair to you. For keeping people away from getting close to you, like a property meant to be hidden away. I tried to steal you for myself, but that’s not a very good thought, is it? I shouldn’t have thought that you were a thing to be kept. You should have been someone I treasured.”

“Then why didn’t you treasure me?” The question echoes loudly in Jungkook’s ears, as it’s the very same question that has weighed in his mind the moment he started to wonder where he’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t he loved you the way that he should have?

“Because I abused your love for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it,” he says plainly. He has known the answer for a while now but refused to accept it until this moment. It feels like a cork inside of him has burst, releasing all the foul, wretched things inside of him and out into the open. And once they start tumbling out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

“I think we both knew we loved each other for as long as we can remember. We skirted around each other because we were scared of change, of losing the friendship we had built over the years. We purposefully ignored each other’s feelings and brushed off our friends’ attempts to help us realize something we already knew.”

“We did,” you say. “That was both our faults.”

“But I was never good at bottling up my feelings. It was only a matter of time before the love I had for you began to grow claws and fangs, and somehow along the way,” he pauses, a breath of sorrowful laughter escaping him, “I had gotten lost.”

Your expression morphs then, shifting from pain, to grief, to acceptance. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes look glazed over, like your mind is somewhere else. When you come back down, you already have another question for him. “Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

He should just say something else, but he can’t help but wonder—”Why didn’t you?”

“I tried—a couple of times. You never noticed they were dates,” you shrug. A leaf from one of the nearby trees gets caught in your hair, and Jungkook reflexively plucks it out. You both freeze when his fingers graze your nape, gazes locking with one another. He jerks his hand back, but doesn’t look away—doesn’t dare to.

(It might be his last chance.)

“I’m sorry for being dense. For resorting to buying rumors so that I could pretend to date you when I could have asked for the real thing. I’m sorry for setting you up with… Namjoon,” he hesitates on his name, and you notice. “It must have confused you greatly, only worsening the doubt you must’ve had for me.”

“It did.” The corners of your eyes look wetter than before, tears dangerously close to the surface. “When I asked you if I should go to Ilsan the first time... You told me to go, even though everyone told me you were jealous of Namjoon. I was starting to believe them, hoping that maybe it was a sign that everything before then had just been a misunderstanding. But that was all you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me to stay?”

“It was a mistake,” he mutters. He shakes his head at the memory: a frequent recurring nightmare of his as he is forced to remember the moment everything had started to go downhill. “I had realized I was being a jealous asshole far too late, and I was trying to clear my own conscience. I thought that… if I let you go, then you’d think better of me. That I might be absolved of my sins if I took your trip as my penance. I didn’t think you were trying to see if I would stop you,” he explains, but it sounds like an excuse even to his ears.

You sit together, watching the sun begin to set, bathing the world in its orange hues. Jungkook feels empty, wrung out like a towel left to dry. The wounds inside him ache and throb, but he knows they won’t last. As surely as the sun will rise, he will also relearn to feel whole again—even if it means you won’t be there to see it.

“I waited for so long, Koo.” You shake your head, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall. You let out a watery laugh. “ I waited for this moment for so long, but I never imagined it would be like this.”

Jungkook studies his hands. He desperately wants to hold you one more time, but the ship has already sailed. “We’ve already sailed past each other a long time ago.”

You nod your head sadly. “We have.”

“Is it bad that I wish that we hadn’t?” he whispers, but he doesn’t really expect a response from you. He rubs his face, covertly trying to wipe his tears away. “I guess there’s a reason why you called me number two, huh?”

You can’t even force out a laugh. You sob unabashedly, cupping your face in your hands. This is the end.

This is the end of a great long adventure between you and him—the time for your roads to diverge closes in, like a shadow looming over their heads.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace for the last time. You shake like a leaf in his arms, clutching at his chest like you don’t want to let go. He drinks you in, tries to commit everything about you to his memory. “Thank you for loving me, even if it didn’t work out. Thank you for being my first love.”

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 7:07 PM

Kim Namjoon opens the door to his childhood home the moment he hears footsteps climbing up the stairs. He’d done so numerous times already, spooking one or two of his neighbors at his sudden appearance. This time, however, he finds the person he had been waiting for.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank god,” he sighs in relief when he sees you, rushing out the door just as you finish taking the last stairstep. You wobble in surprise when you notice him, nearly falling over with a scream before he catches you by the waist to keep you steady. He pulls you close, pressing your face gently into his chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry for bringing you to Ilsan even though Yoongi told us not to go. I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew Jungkook and Hoseok were coming here, too. I’m so sorry for—”

“Namjoon,” you try to interrupt him, but he keeps going.

“—wanting you and Jungkook to reconcile even if you didn’t want you to leave me. You just looked so sad all the time, and I knew you needed to speak to him at least one more time so that you could find closure, but I should have asked you first like a decent person—”

“Namjoon,” you repeat. Namjoon pauses long enough to see that our eyes are red-rimmed from crying, further increasing the panic rising in his body.

“Oh god, I didn’t want you to be sadder! I just… God! I just wanted to help you for once, because you always helped me with everything. I know you deserve to make your own decisions, to be your own person, but I ignored that in favor of following my stupid gut—”

“Joonie, the neighbors can hear you,” you hiss, furtively glancing at the doors opening around them. You can feel many eyes on you, watching curiously at the red-faced idiot babbling like a man possessed. You motion for him to stop, but he’s too caught up in the moment.

“For a while, I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you, but it was so hard! You have to understand how impossible it is not to love you. Believe me, I tried!” Namjoon all but shouts the last part out, shaking you by the shoulders. “I don’t deserve you! I’m just not a good boyfriend! I’m insecure to a fault, I’m boring, I have mild sleep apnea, I forget to throw out the empty milk cartons—”

You yelp as he continues to shake you, gently having to pry his hands off of you to save yourself from being shaken like a bobblehead. “Joonie,” you say, firmer this time.

He rambles and rambles and rambles. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, hands gesticulating wildly like a human helicopter. He’s so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t realize immediately when you take his hands in yours, forcing him to keep still.

“Joonie.”

“—and I’ve never been able to hold a relationship for longer than two months! My past girlfriend even left me after cheating on me the entire time—”

“Joonie.”

“I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and being myself, but you somehow managed to make me feel like I was worth something. You made me feel so so so incredibly loved. You made me feel important!”

“Kim Namjoon!” You shout, finally losing your temper and flicking him on the forehead. That finally manages to stop him, his eyes going cross-eyed like a cartoon character. You could almost see the flying stars orbiting his head. Properly silenced now, you push him back into his apartment, kicking the door with your foot before locking it for good measure.

When you turn back to face him, he’s still frozen where you left him. He stands in the middle of his living room like a robot, his mouth slightly agape as if his wires had been fried. Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you pull him to the couch, gently guiding him so that he doesn’t accidentally fall on his ass as he continues to short circuit in front of you. It takes him another whole minute to get his bearings together, but you’re a patient person. You sit in the adjacent armchair and wait for him to speak.

“Oh my god.” He swallows awkwardly, the color draining from his face. “What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome back to earth,” you smile, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It seems as though Namjoon’s weird candor spell is still in effect. He has the presence of mind to be embarrassed this time, however, and you watch amusedly as his cheeks begin to redden. “I, umm…”

“Gave quite a show out there. I didn’t know you could rap,” you tease, your mouth curling up into a smile. The muscles in your cheeks feel sore, almost as if it has been ages since you last used them. This morning feels like it had happened eons ago.

“Sorry. I just… had a lot to say,” he replies lamely. He hangs his head, embarrassed to look you in the eye. “So… I’m guessing you spoke to Jungkook?”

He hears you hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything on the matter. Namjoon has never been one to pry, but his overactive brain can’t help but make connections out of nothing, trying to make sense of the world in desperation.

“I’m guessing you’re here to reject me, right? I’m sorry for confessing to you all of a sudden when you’re already spoken for. It was unfair of me, and you don’t need to try and spare my feelings at all. I’ve been prepared for this since August,” he speaks rapidly, nearly losing his breath in his haste. “It was my fault for thinking we could have happened. I mistook your kindness for reciprocation when I should have known better—”

“Joonie, my love. You’re rambling again.” Your voice snaps him back to reality. He turns redder somehow, sinking deep into his seat.

“S-sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you huff, pouting in annoyance, but Namjoon catches the fondness in your eyes. “You aren’t unfair at all.”

“E-even so,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything to happen between us. We were only going to fake date until the end of Chuseok, so it was foolish of me to try and… replace Jungkook, somehow. But I suppose, in the grand scheme of things… he’s a tough act to follow up to, huh? Seven years of loving someone is a long time. I don’t hold a candle to that,” he says dejectedly.

“But you do.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, shocked by your own admission. Even so, you know what you said is true, and you wouldn’t take it back even if you could.

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear it when he doesn’t react. It takes a second for his brain to buffer, but Namjoon had heard you, loud and clear.

“What do you mean?” His tone is soft, hesitant. Afraid, but hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders. You want to tell him everything, but you are impossibly tired, your eyelids like sandbags just waiting to fall. Namjoon must have noticed because he stumbles out of his seat with his arms outstretched, ready to keep you from slumping over.

“Woah, there. I’m sorry for interrogating when you must be exhausted. Do you want to take my bed instead of the couch tonight?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You blink sleepily at him, nodding with a large yawn. “I wanna talk to you but I’m tired,” you say, before promptly toppling onto him. He doesn’t flinch at your weight, catching you in an instant. He lets you nestle your face into his neck, and he grabs your arms until they’re laced around his shoulders. Slowly, he gets up with you in his arms, a feeling of weightlessness filling your senses. Safe.

When he tucks you into his bed, the sheets smell familiar and homey. Namjoon sits by the edge, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “Namjoon?” Your voice sounds muted to your own ears, as if you were underwater. But you don’t feel like you’re drowning, not at all.

“Yes?” He watches you with kind eyes, the same ones he has always had. To you, he looks like a prayer come to life, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

Namjoon exhales out a laugh, smiling sweetly. I love your dimples, you want to say, but your body feels heavy. Tomorrow. You’ll tell him for sure.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ll always be here. For as long as you want.”

You close your eyes. Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

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savethelastdan · 4 years ago

Text

Sesskagu Week Day Six: Future (White)

CW: child death, grief

DISCLAIMER: This was written weeks ago but no one outside a Discord has seen it, and I thought it fit the prompt.

When he is fourteen, Sesshomaru’s son, Akinori, goes to see a fortune teller.

His mother advises against it; claiming to have killed many witches in her time, she declares that, with a sweep of her fan, “all they tell you is what you want to hear.”

Akinori laughs, but in the end can neither agree nor disagree; for when he arrives, the woman bars the doors and refuses to give him answers.

When will the panther king fall from power - this year, or the next? (Sesshomaru hides a smile, recalling the sword that awaits his son’s birthday to be claimed.)

Will my parents give me siblings, or have I already achieved the height of perfection in their eyes? (Kagura laughs boldly, but her smile is as soft as a feather as she runs a hand through her son’s hair.)

Which will be greater -- my father’s legacy, or my own? (The fortune teller cuts him off, her voice shaking as she tells him to please, please go away.)

It is not the first time that he has lost a child. But Sesshomaru could never say that the experience prepared him for the sight of the broken body stretched before them.

The panther king has shown little care in his work; Akinori’s limbs bend at competing angles, like a tree ravaged in a storm. His mokomoko lies limp in the grass, drenched with blood. Pink replaces the gold in his lifeless eyes.

The youth’s expression is peaceful; not that such a thing could bring comfort in this moment.

“Do something!” Kagura screams; the side of her fist connects with his shoulder. Her other arm drapes over their son’s mangled body, as though to shield the heart that sits still beneath the tattered ribs. “Bring him back!”

Jaken’s eyes meet Sesshomaru’s, frozen with horror. He knows exactly the memory playing in the kappa’s mind: The night of Akinori’s birth, where the child had come from Kagura’s body blue-faced and still. He hadn’t thought twice of wielding Tenseiga in that moment, while his wife was still lost in the throes of a final bloody contraction.

They had never told her -- had never thought it would matter.

“Sesshomaru! ” The raw desperation in her voice - that which she’s always managed to shield from him, before, even when begging for her own rescue - he can not bear it.

He stands, the blood and poison pouring from his own wounds forgotten. Jaken’s head bows at his silent command - stay with them.

The panther king’s demise is neither swift, nor merciful.

“Happy birthday, little brother.” Rin bends before the memorial stone, hands pressed flat together. The surface of the rock is not yet wind-worn, and it’s nice to finally have a place in the village where she can go to remember him.

Akinori’s true grave is at the peak of a tall mountain, chosen by his mother. Lord Sesshomaru searched for weeks to find it, and Rin has never felt comfortable asking him to take her.

She hasn’t seen Kagura or Jaken in years. Somehow, she believes they are together.

A breeze rustles against the back of Rin’s bare neck, tickling the strands of closely-cut hair at her nape. She hunches her shoulders in response, wondering not for the first time if Lady Kagura stays away because of her - knowing that Rin has escaped death twice, a prize that cannot be given to anyone else.

Could I trade one of my lives for yours, Akinori? To see you smile again?

She doesn’t want to judge; Rin has no children of her own, as much as she likes them.

Both hands fall to her side as she stands. Tonight, Lord Sesshomaru will arrive to sit with her. When Kohaku gets home, the three of them will drink, and talk about anything other than what is the only thing they can truly think about.

Rin’s glad he comes, instead of wandering the woods alone.

On the dark night of the winter solstice, something calls him to Akinori’s mountaintop.

Part of him (the weak part, the one that pulled him through the Meido in search of a lost wind goddess’ soul and made him want to smile when his brother pulled a girl out of the Bone-eater’s Well) doesn’t want to go. It’s easier to grieve on the ground, where he can walk a mere ten yards to find some creature to tear apart in order to calm his racing heart.

But he’s long past the days when he would ignore his instincts. When his boots settle in the snow atop the grave’s peak, he sees that he is not alone.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Tears flood Jaken’s eyes. He trips over the edge of the memorial stone in his hurry to bow. “How I’ve missed you!”

Kagura hunches her back and refuses to acknowledge him. Sesshomaru stands frozen - stunned that she and Jaken have remained together for this long without his servant’s demise, and at how little she has changed in the years since their last meeting.

“How is Rin? And Ah-Un? And Kohaku - oh, I’ve practically forgotten their foolish little faces!” Jaken continues to wail, waving the staff of two heads to emphasize the enormity of his struggles. Kagura clicks her tongue loudly, but the kappa soundly ignores her, and she tosses her head with a dramatic huff.

Sesshomaru resists the almost overpowering urge to embrace her. To do so would be foolish. The rejection would be swift and violent - most likely in the form of throwing him off the mountain. And why not? This particular failure of his has been the ultimate betrayal, far worse than simply allowing Naraku to destroy her. This had been a life she’d nurtured, suffered to bear - one she had cherished.

She swears under her breath in exhaustion, curling herself even tighter against his chest. Their newborn son is pressed safe between them, drooling against her collarbone. “I wish he looked more like me,” she mumbles. “Ah, well. Spoiled little prince...”

“Lord Sesshomaru, forgive me for my impertinence, but...” Jaken steps back slowly, in preparation to avoid punishment. “Are you well?”

He supposes he is not. Food and rest seem rather pointless; times when he can slow down enough to breathe, are also opportunities for memories of his loss to seep in. Other than a few visits to his human wards, and one to his mother (which ended quickly enough, when she used the meeting to make an offer of condolences that he does not wish to accept), Sesshomaru has not engaged socially with another creature since that terrible day. Much of his time is spent as it was in his adolescence - wandering the earth, searching for beings to challenge.

It is not as fulfilling as it once was.

“Oi.”

He blinks slowly in surprise, before turning his gaze to Kagura. Arms crossed over her chest, his wife (if she can still be called that, several years after having abandoned each other) appraises him with a cold stare.

“It’s going to snow tonight.” She nods towards the graying clouds. “We have a cave nearby, if you want to spend the night.”

Jaken squawks, vocalizing the disbelief that Sesshomaru himself feels. Kagura’s face reddens.

“Only because you look like shit,” she spits, words cracking in the air like glass. “What would it do to your reputation, to keel over from a little storm?”

The insult smarts, as though she’s taken Bakusaiga in hand and thoroughly tenderized him with it. Sesshomaru used to be strong, proud. The kind of being that others would come to for help, long ago, only to be dismissed for his own purposes.

Now, he is simply a father with two children who have grown up, and one who never got the chance to.

Now, Kagura is the one who curls her lip and turns away.

Jaken fusses over him. It is a strangely welcome reminder of the old days. Kagura acts as though she doesn’t care, but it’s clear the two have developed a routine of sorts on their own - Jaken’s staff has place beside her fan, and they set up a small fire within the depth of the cave together without a single pause in their bickering.

The sense of unbelonging is uncomfortable. Sesshomaru sits as close to the entrance as he can, cold wind bearing against his back, to mute it.

“Eat this, my Lord!” Jaken bows his head, holding out a hunk of steaming meat. “There are tons of tasty creatures roaming around the mountains. It would be my pleasure to prepare as many as you’d like!”

He eats silently, ignoring the nausea that simmers under Kagura’s gaze. He does not know how to diffuse the unbearable tension between them, and so he will not try.

But when Jaken heads to the rear of the cave to sleep, there is no one else to put between them as a makeshift shield. And, despite his fervent prayers, Kagura does not leave her place on the opposite side of the fire.

It feels like centuries pass before she speaks.

“You left us.”

It’s three little words, but he knows exactly the moment of which she speaks. “I did.”

Outside, the wind screams as it drags snow from one side of the mountain and piles it against the other. Kagura pulls her kimonos tighter around her body, glaring into the fire.

He clears his throat. “I destroyed the panther king that day. Eradicated his tribe and his allies.”

She nods stiffly.

“And I have not known peace for a single moment in the past three years.”

Her eyes flick up. “Do you think that’s what I want to hear?”

“It is the truth.”

Fingers crush the edge of her sleeve in a fist. In one swift moment, she stands and marches over to his side of the fire. Sesshomaru braces himself in expectation for a fighting blow.

Her palms slide against the side of his face, thumbs resting against the spot where his skin purples. Up this close, he can see lines of grief darken under her eyes, as the fire’s shadows bounce against them. The purple crescent moon on the side of her neck, tattooed during their wedding ceremony, has turned blood-red in the light.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she murmurs.

Then, she wraps him in a tight embrace. Her heartbeat thuds loudly in his ears, drowning out the roar of the snowstorm outside.

He doesn’t know it yet, but for the first time in years, Kagura sleeps soundly through the night.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

She is wounded while razing a village, and does not object when Jaken calls him for aid.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

Sesshomaru travels to meet Kohaku on a slayer’s trip, and a gust of wind floats by his side the entire way.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

On the anniversary of the day Kagura lived again, they meet one another in an overgrown forest and don’t part ways until half a week later.

“Please?” Rin begs, tugging on Kagura’s arm. Though she’s well past the appropriate age for such childish actions, no one objects when she spends her parents’ visits practically glued to the wind witch’s side. “Lord Sesshomaru won’t tell me.”

“Ah.” Kagura glances over to where he stands in the corner, inspecting a weapon that Kohaku has mounted on the wall. “So you were listening to me, for once.”

“You said you wanted to keep it a secret,” he drones, carefully obscuring the relief that still arises in him that they can speak like this to one another, again. Things have progressed between them more than he could have ever imagined in the past few months; some days, he can almost believe that things will be like they were before.

Rin sighs in a long, guttural motion that sounds too much like his brother for Sesshomaru’s liking. “Please? Jaken said it was good news.”

“Oh, of course that stupid frog would be the one to--”

“Kaguraaaa.” “Okay, fine.” The witch’s hand travels up to her hair, picking nervously at the feathers twisted into the base of her bun. “You’re going to have a sister by the time it’s autumn.”

Rin’s mouth drops; her head snaps over to where Lord Sesshomaru is trying very hard to look too busy to participate in the conversation. “What? But I thought you two were still--how did this even--” Her hands grip Kagura’s shoulders tightly. “Are you okay?”

He’s apprehensive about the same thing. When everything on Earth still reminds them of Akinori, would another child only bring fear and resentment into the picture? Only by some strange miracle had they salvaged what tragedy had broken - the stress of another birth could easily rupture the wound again.

“I’m okay.” Kagura shrugs in a poor attempt to hide her discomfort. “Definitely didn’t miss the morning sickness, though.”

Rin sticks to her even more closely after that.

Mirai is born during a storm, a week and two days earlier than she is supposed to arrive. Despite the timing, she is red-faced and lively, screaming from her mother’s arms the moment she can breathe.

When she is old enough, her parents will take her to meet her older sister, and the grave of her older brother. Her grandfather’s sword and her mother’s fan will be her sixteenth birthday gifts.

But for now, she rests in the crook of her mother’s arm, lulled asleep by the wind.

“She sure is loud,” Kagura mumbles, tracing a tiny ear with one finger. “Guess we should prepare for a sleepless winter.”

Sesshomaru hums wordlessly in agreement. As he shifts, to shield them both from the cold seeping through the nearby window, Kagura grabs his arm with her free hand.

“I don’t blame you anymore, by the way.” Her words slur with fatigue. “I haven’t for a long time.”

He could tell her that her forgiveness is not necessary to keep them together. That, regardless of what she does, he will always blame himself first and foremost.

Instead, Sesshomaru leans over to rest his chin atop her head. “Sleep, now.”

“Right, right.” Her eyes close, lips turning up in what is unmistakably a smile. “You better stay where you are, or else...”

He would not be able to step away if he wanted to.

#sesskagu #kagura #sesshomaru #inuyasha #sesskaguweek #sesskaguweek21 #savethelastdan #shespitsfire

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fanfic-collection · 3 years ago

Text

Loki x Reader: Apocalypse - Ch 9

I'm running out of chapters that I've written, uhoh. Looks like I have hunker down and really write again.

You looked at Loki, then back to Tony, then did a double take and winced, “Surprise?”

“Honestly, this would happen to me.” Tony shook his head. “Really. I was having a relatively normal day in the face of an apocalypse, and now my cousin shows up with one of the Asgardians. Great. We haven’t seen Thor in ages, and just, boom. Out pops Loki. That is absolutely what I needed.” Tony started nodding as he spoke. “So what are you doing here Rock of Ages? Are you behind this weather? Global conquest, being a little shit, just ruining humanity’s day, killing for fun,” Tony held out his hand towards you, “What is that thing on his neck, did you capture him? Why are his eyes covered? Good job if so.”

“Well if you took a minute to stop talking, he could answer you.” You replied coolly.

“Is that thing on his neck the reason you wanted the cutter? Because nope, no thank you, whatever it is, it’s staying on. It looks like it’s,”

Loki stepped forward and pulled off the gauze. It wasn’t a normal step, it was a threat.

Tony looked at him and his Ironman gloves came on, hands at the ready, “Back off, I will shoot.”

“Has it occurred to you,” Loki sneered, “that things have not changed between myself and humanity since we last saw each other?”

Tony blinked taking in Loki’s eyes, “Uh, what’s up with,” he waved his hand in front of his own eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.” Loki replied, his voice colder than the outside, “I can’t see.”

“That’s part of why I asked you to come.” You piped up timidly.

Tony looked between the two of you, confusion scrambling his features.

“Please can I have the cutter?” You asked, reaching your hand out towards Tony, “look at him, those spikes are digging into his skin, he’s bleeding constantly.”

“Maybe he deserves it.”

Loki rolled his red eyes. “Oh yes, my loving father, torturing me continuously, I’m sure you would agree given your history with your oh so wonderful father.”

Tony clenched his jaw, “What do you know about my father?”

“I know a great many things about all of the Avengers. You will recall my time on Midgard when…” Loki paused and picked at his hand, “I was not quite myself.”

Tony laughed sarcastically, “Yea, we remember.”

You interjected, “And we also remember how you heroically died trying to kill Thanos.”

Loki looked up from the vague direction of his palm where he had bowed his head slightly, his blank eyes searching for your voice.

“And all the other Avengers are no saints by their own standards either, they’ve had their crimes they’ve committed in order to do good, or to come back from it and turn their lives around. Surely everyone deserves a second chance, no?” You elbowed Tony.

“He’s had his second chance.” Tony grumbled.

“When he died stopping dark elves from invading earth?” You offered.

“Ok, hello, since when are you so knowledgeable in all things Loki?”

“I talked to him, you should try it some time. When he was recovering, asked him about his life. You know, when you ask people about what they’ve been through, really listen, sometimes they share things. You could stand to learn a thing or two about people around you.” You narrowed your eyes at Tony.

Loki stood there unmoving.

“Fine! Fine! Throw in with him, betray humanity, I’ll have nothing to do with it. Take the damned cutter, but we’re hunting you down as soon as I leave. This is the last we speak.”

Loki sighed, “You really are an imbecile, Stark. Is your pride so great?”

“What?” Tony rounded on Loki, pointing a finger at him, though it had no effect.

“The monsters you humans need fear are frost giants. Those are what are hunting you in droves, and if I would stand to guess, I imagine they brought some of their beasts along as well.” Loki replied, crossing his arms.

Tony looked at you then back to Loki.

“That’s the information we were going to give you in exchange for the cutter.” You said, holding your hand out palm up.

Tony slowly set the cutter in your palm. “Expand.”

“Your cousin and I were attacked in a produce store by three of them. I am… not at my best at current, and they got the jump on me. They are also enhanced by some means, their weapons are different than normal Jotun weapons.”

“Which means?” Tony asked.

“That even if I were at my full power, healing my vision wouldn’t be a possibility. They’ve used ancient magicks, magick that goes back into the depths of time. It is very difficult to learn such techniques.”

You furrowed your brow, “Why didn’t you learn it?”

“Surely Doctor Strange would know it then?” Tony asked.

Loki sighed, “I’m very young, it takes centuries to learn and master, one has to commit fully to it. I have been working on other magical practices, so such things fell to the side.”

“You got a physics degree instead of a mathematics?” You offered.

“Essentially.” Loki turned in Tony’s direction. “That half rate sorcerer would not even know of such magick. What he knows is from books, and mostly books on Midgard. No, you need to travel the cosmos to learn this, even if he still had the time stone he would need to know where to travel, where to look, who to ask, what to seek.”

“Oh.” Tony leaned over towards you and muttered, “he’s still arrogant as hell, you really let him sleep with you?”

“Fuck, Tony, we shared a bed, and he can hear you.” You cried out, shoving Tony away. Though you were too busy to notice the pink on Loki’s face.

“Ok so fine, fine. What’s the creepy collar thing for then?” Tony asked.

“I’d rather not say until it’s off,” Loki paused, “If it can be taken off.”

“Fine, god of lies. Have at it, cousin.”

You stepped forward and gripped the collar carefully, looking at Loki’s face intently. Unbidden, Loki’s hand reached up to grip your arm. You could feel his warm breath on your face as you looked up at him. Your eyes lingered on his thin, pale lips, his square chin and sharp nose and cheekbones. Trying not to bite your lip, you whispered, “Do you trust me?”

You could see Loki swallow before he replied, “Yes.”

Pressing the cutter on, you held it to the metal. A thin beam of energy passed between the two prongs at the end of the red tube. The cold metal hissed and screamed as the energy beam pressed against it, your hand vibrating dangerously. Loki reached up and gripped your hand, steadying it.

“Easy, love. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.” Loki murmured, the disappointment evident in his voice.

You pressed against the metal harder. The tool screeched and shook violently, threatening to slide up and down the metal columns of the collar but you held fast with Loki’s help. Your heart pounded in your chest, you knew it was going to give, you just knew it, and you knew if you pressed in on the metal too hard, it would give and your hand would fly through and strike Loki in the throat.

Pulling your hand back, you tried to keep it in place, just enough that the beam would eat through the metal but not move forward. The beam was so bright, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t, you had to be sure you did this right.

One final ear-wrenching screech and your hand shot forward. Lightning fast, you snapped the tool off, succeeding in only grazing Loki’s throat and leaving a mark resembling a small hickey.

You let out a soft gasp of relief.

Loki pulled his hand away from yours, feeling the broken metal. He had cried out softly at the burn but compared to other pain he had felt, it may as well have been a curling iron. The tool cooled fast for safety reasons. Loki touched the cut part that slid down, one side no longer digging into his throat. With a mixture of giddy relief, he laughed.

Tony leaned around and saw the cut metal, “Well not bad me.” He squinted at the mark on Loki’s neck.

You narrowed your eyes and held up the cutter.

Tony opened his mouth to say something.

You cut him off with an angry look and mouthed, “Don’t.” Then you turned back to Loki, “How are you feeling?”

“I believe as long as it’s on me it’s going to keep working.” Loki sighed, “assuming taking it off even works.”

“Well, hey, even if it doesn’t help, at least you’ll be able to move.”

“Yes, thank you.”

And so the process continued, this time with the one by his chest. You wanted to delay the one under his chin as long as possible since it was so close to skin. Even as fast as you moved, that one would burn the bottom of his throat in a long strip before you could turn it off.

“Can you put like any nanites or something to protect him, Tony?” You asked as you struggled with the lower bar. “The last one is going to be nasty if not.”

“You know? I probably could.” Tony said thoughtfully. “But you owe me.”

“I assume you want to know what this contraption does.” Loki replied dryly.

“Bingo.”

“It makes me mortal.”

“Wait what?” Tony blanched, “Woah now, cousin, wait a minute, I don’t think cutting that off is the right idea.”

The lower bar snapped, the cutter shot forward and just in time you managed to only lightly singe Loki’s armor.

“We had a deal, Tony.” You growled.

“Nonbinding contract, oral agreements aren’t technically legally binding.” Tony replied.

Loki narrowed his eyes, looking slightly to the right of Tony. “Even without my sight and powers I am plenty lethal.”

“Yes well, I like my odds way more if you can’t go around using magic and surviving explosions and like fifty foot drops.”

“Tony! We had a deal!” You slapped Tony’s chest.

Tony looked at you stunned. “Did you just hit me?”

“Loki has been nothing but kind to me throughout the entirety of me knowing him.”

“Minus the murder of eighty-six people in a SHIELD bunker and two-hundred fifty or so people in New York plus billions in property damage.”

“As I recall, the SHIELD bunker was your director’s doing, he was the one playing with the tesseract, attempted to bury me in a last ditch attempt to stop me from escaping, failed and blamed it on me. And while I did hurt some people in New York, I do apologize for that, I wasn’t quite myself but that is neither here nor there. How is your Hulk, did the civilians he traumatized appreciate him? And the chitauri which you by now know wasn’t me. In fact, if the Hulk hadn’t shown up, you might have been better off, given the sheer amount of damage he added to the wreckage.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth pointing a finger at Loki.

“I assure you, whatever gesture you’re making at me is wasted.”

“Fine, you can use my nanites.” Tony grumbled. “You fell hard for this guy, huh?”

“That is none of your business and neither here nor there.” You huffed. As you turned back to Loki, a lingering ghost of a smile stayed on his face.

Then the nanites were on his throat and you began to cut.

#loki x reader #reader insert #ficbit #multi chapter #loki fanfiction

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

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Sunrise (Dean/Cas coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, 1.7k)

(ao3 link)

Dean and Sam were free. Finally, unequivocally, free.

But this wasn't the happy ending Dean had expected. Maybe in the past, having Sam in the passenger seat tearing across an open stretch of highway as the sunsets, it'd be what he wanted. But that was years ago. He's not that man anymore. Dean's tired of sunsets, of saying goodbye. He yearns for a different ending. One that's less of an ending, and more of a beginning. A sunrise instead of a sunset.

Sam has his. Dean lost his. Despite this setback, he won't stop. He'll live in memory of his sunrise.

Except, what can he do when he feels those rays on his face again?

Early morning sunlight streams through half-closed motel window blinds, striking Dean directly on his face. Stir him from unconsciousness, shuffling Dean out of his dreams. Warm blue and familiar stubble replaced with an ugly, orange patterned wallpaper that makes his stomach unhappily flip. Groaning, he turns. Hopes he can reclaim his quickly fading fantasy. It escapes his grasp, Dean left in the loneliness of reality.

Truly. He checks Sam’s bed, finding it unoccupied. “Figures…”

They crossed paths with Eileen coincidentally. Not like Sam’s pointed questions and giant thumbs hid his intentions. Even his terrible acting (“Eileen? What are the odds of you being here?”) couldn’t throw him off. Dean played along, however, letting them think he was in the dark. Knew exactly why his brother and his brother’s girlfriend hadn’t told Dean about this. Salt only hurts a wound that’s fresh and open. While badly healed, Dean’s grown numb to that missing chunk of his heart. More pained that his sadness made his loved ones go behind his back, act in guilt.

Sam and Eileen don’t deserve shadows because of his pain.

Which is why he’s happy for them. Left the bar so they can chat without his presence. Catch up, let Sam tell her about those kitschy tourist traps they’ve been hopping between since Chuck’s defeat. Show pictures of Dean in an upside-down house, Sam’s head peeking out from corn fields. Hold hands. Sit on the same side of the booth. Kiss, without worrying if Dean is steadily killing his liver at the bar because of them.

Drinking lost its flavor anyhow.

Free from Chuck’s influences, Dean decided he might cut a few more strings. Namely beer. He’ll enjoy a bottle every now and then but, reflecting on it, booze never offered comfort he really needed. Only aggravated a different sort of hurt, distracting him for a while. He abandoned those distractions. Instead of asking their bartender from last night, with his tanned skin and wavy, blond hair, for whiskey, neat, until he dropped, Dean stood from their table and paid his tab. Carried his longing out the exit, drove with it, laid down in his bed and held it close. Hugged it, imagining his arms. Praise whispered in his ear, about choosing a different way. A better way. A healthier way.

Cas would be proud of him. Prouder than he already is. And Dean… felt the same.

Rising, Dean stretches. Winces as a new disc pops and cracks in his back, “Motels ain’t what they used to be…” He throws his legs over the side, scrunching his toes in the shag carpet. Smiling, “But at least some things’ll never change…”

It’s going to be a slow morning. Dean doubts Sam will swing by before noon, meaning he has hours to kill. First, he leisurely showers. Scrubs at his scalp with gentle scratches, humming Zeppelin under his breath. Keening ‘A Whole Lotta Love’s chorus, coming into his hand. Lets that melody fade while water makes his come sluice off his hand, into the drain. He switches tracks, dries himself while softly singing ‘Going to California’. Thinks about their next destination. All those beaches he and Sam plan on visiting. Finally making good on their promise.

Not how he always envisioned it, but…

Dean drapes the towel around his neck, staring at his reflection. Marks new wrinkles he hadn’t noticed, gray hairs where dirty blond were. Sees how small his eyebags shrank.

Sleeping was surprisingly easy. Some days Dean wished it weren’t. Others, it’s his only chance at being with him again.

“Nope,” he says, leaving the bathroom. Jumping out from the mirror. “Not going there… not this early…”

He bides his time dressing, debating where he should get breakfast. Wonders if a diner they passed entering town might serve pie as he hops into his jeans. Waffles between a t-shirt or purple-and-blue plaid while rubbing deodorant on. Then, tugging his tee’s thin fabric over his head, he decides he isn’t that hungry. Can eat later, Sam driving so he can attack snacks he squirrelled away when they last stopped for gas.

Knock Knock Knock

“Sam?” Dean asks, glancing at the door. No one answers. “Sam is that you? You forget your keys or…” He checks his phone. Nothing.

Knock Knock Knock

“Sam, if that’s you – this isn’t funny.” He grabs for his socks, sitting on the end of his bed. “Pulling a poor joke on your brother, leaving your girlfriend alone in bed… shame on you.”

Knock Knock Knock

Dean squeezes his socks, glaring at the door. His irritation fades, weirdly, the longer he stares. Replaced with a different feeling, comforting. Without needing to, Dean guesses it’s not Sam on that other side. Tossing his socks, Dean stands and slowly inches forward. Drawn by gravity, a name perched atop his tongue. Waiting there, scared of being spoken. Of being wrong. He doesn’t feel wrong.

Is this still a dream, he asks himself. Did I actually wake up? Dean waits, hovering near the doorknob. Remembers rushing last time, what waited there then. What he almost threw himself onto. Cycles through who might be waiting now. Something worse, a more terrifying monster. Or maybe mundane, like the motel manager. He’ll never know if he drags it out. Whether that’s motivation or warning, Dean can’t decide. What he does choose is flinging open that door and facing whoever was there.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas -?” Dean gasps, knees buckling. Laughing, he leans his weight on the door. Grins wide enough his cheeks must splinter, twin tracks of tears already spilled over. “Cas, is that…” He coughs, wiping at his mouth. “Is that really you?”

Like nothing happened, Cas crosses the threshold. Dressed spectacularly… normal. Trench coat, suit jacket, and white button-down paired with his crooked blue tie. Dean’s hand drifts close but can’t touch. Not yet. “It is me,” he tells Dean, “you… probably have a lot of questions. About why I’m here, and – and what was said when the Empty…”

Of course, there are questions. None were as important as Dean snatching Cas’s tie, dragging him into a heated embrace. “Later,” he promises, closing the door. Guiding Cas onto his bed. Falling, his angel’s body collapsing atop his. Weight proving further and further how real this is.

He’s back!

“I can’t believe…” Dean kisses along Cas’s neck, threading his fingers through hairs resting at his angel’s nape. Feeds a fire burning across his body, flames roaring with a desire for more. “Can’t believe I could be this lucky…”

Cas chuckles, “Good things do happen, Dean.”

“Never to us.” Pausing, Dean tears his eyes from the dip of Cas’s collarbone and to his face. “I searched, Cas. I did. Back when it was me, and Sam, and Jack, I did everything I could but I… there wasn’t any lore. Nothing about contacting the Empty, breaking through I – how?”

Shifting, Cas rolls off Dean and onto his side. No sooner than it started, those flames eating at Dean’s insides tempered. Became a more manageable heat, containable. Dean tucked himself against Cas’s chest, hearing his heartbeat. Awed from that simple rhythm it gives. Lulls Dean with a gentle song. “Jack,” Cas explains. Rubs Dean’s shoulder, along where his handprint was. Teased the edges of his tee, part of his memorial tattoo revealed. Cas traces his palm outline. “In fixing Chuck’s mistakes, he… he mounted a rescue mission from Heaven.”

“For you?”

“For everyone.” Cas kisses Dean’s crown, continuing his story. Whispers it into his head. “All the angels. Jack rescued us all.”

“Everyone?” Dean asks, “Meaning… Michael? Gabriel?”

“Uriel, Balthazar, Anna, Hannah, Metatron – even Lucifer.”

“What the hell?”

“He was fixing what Chuck wasted. Saved Heaven,” he says, “Gave everyone a second chance, to do right by humanity. Be its guardians like we were supposed to be. And…” Cas lays his hand where it belongs, Dean shivering from contact. Wraps his arms tighter around his angel’s waist. “Jack offered me all my powers back, and then some. Said I could be his archangel… second-in-command, in all of Heaven.”

Dean lifts his head, frowning. Studies Cas with a suspicious wrinkle creasing his brow. He deflates somewhat, disappointment rocking into him like heavy waves. Routine. Expected, since Cas was exactly where he wanted. But then, isn’t that answer enough? Dean asks regardless. “Did you take it?”

“I thanked him for the offer,” Cas says, “however my place was elsewhere, here on Earth… with you.” His hand moves, cupping Dean’s cheek. Thumb brushes his lip. “And when our time comes, I’ll rejoin Heaven at your side.”

Cas’s heartbeat makes sense, now. It never did that before.

“We’ve got a long time before we croak, Cas,” Dean jokes, crawling higher up his bed. Enough that he can press their foreheads together. “You think you can handle it?”

“I waited millennia to meet you, and then years just so I can hold you like this.” Cas closes the distance, capturing Dean’s lips. “I’m hoping our future is excruciatingly slow.”

“Our future…” He relaxes, allowing a few more kisses before he starts again. “Y’know, I… I thought I’d never get to say that. Figured, after Jack took the reigns from Chuck, this was all we’d get and – and having everyone back was nice. But you weren’t there, and I hurt. When you died, I wanted to sit there and let myself waste away and join you. Except if I did, you’d be so angry and – that’s what’s been keeping me going. You loved me so much – and were pained whenever I was… I couldn’t do that to myself. Punishing myself wouldn’t be fair. So I thought about my future, how I can live it for those I loved. Be there… the person I’ve become, and not who I used to be. But now…”

“Now you can be a little selfish,” Cas says. “We can be selfish.” He tickles Dean’s chin, hands roving across his body. “What should we do, for the first day of the rest of our lives?”

Dean doesn’t dawdle. “I want to lay here,” he says, “Lay here the whole day, in your arms, telling you how much I love you.”

“…I don’t see any problems with that.”

Neither did Dean, which is why he suggested it. They fix themselves, first. Cas sheds most of his outer layers, leaving himself only in his boxers. Dean hurls his jeans off fast, jumping under the covers. Giddy as Cas joins him, both men facing each other. Hands joined above their sheets, Cas’s palm fitting perfectly.

“Well?” Cas arches his brow, “How much do you love me?”

Dean kisses him, ruining it by smiling too hard. “I love you too much, and not enough.”

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x19 #15x19 inherit the earth #15x19 coda #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

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phantasticworks · 4 years ago

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If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Twenty-Two

guess who's back! Back again! I am back! With a new chapter friends! *please check the tags for an important new tw about this chapter*

read on ao3

Words: 10.3k

Summary: Dan and Phil get closer to their truth.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, allusions to past abuse/neglect, mild (very mild) smut at the end

After hours of testing and far too many people poking and prodding at their son, the hospital finally releases Jaiden, with a prescription to be filled for a brand new inhaler. Dan’s beyond nervous about this new development, but he saves his breakdown until they get home, where he hopes he can cry in the shower in peace.

Everyone is exhausted and starved by the time they finally make it inside the flat, Phil carrying Jaiden’s tired self inside and taking him straight to the lounge. Luckily, Phil had the foresight to order burgers on the way home, and Dan takes a moment to be relieved that he won’t have to cook. Still, the only thing keeping him from going straight to bed, besides the fact that it’s only about six in the evening, is the nervous energy thrumming in his veins. He tries not to hover around Jaiden too much, knowing it makes him nervous as well, but he almost can’t help it.

This results in Phil all but dragging him into the kitchen, asking the kids to pick out a film while they talk. As soon as they’re in the kitchen, and safe from wandering eyes and little ears, Dan allows a shallow sob to escape him. “Oh, bear,” Phil whispers, his voice dripping in something soft and affectionate. He doesn’t hesitate before pulling Dan into a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing, his hands bunching up Dan’s sweater at his hips.

Dan loops his arms around Phil’s shoulders, hiding his face against the pale neck, just a breath away. He tries to control his crying to something quieter, but his body is shaking with it, as Phil tries desperately to quiet him, stroking a hand over his hair in long sweeps. “I was so scared,” Dan gasps through the tears.

“I know,” Phil whispers, his lips brushing against Dan’s ear. Dan can’t repress the shiver the feeling causes. “But Jaiden’s fine. He’s okay, Dan. You did so well, getting him to A&E and everything. I’m so proud of you.” Somewhere in the words of encouragement and comfort, Phil starts pressing kisses to Dan’s jaw, and Dan feels the tingling heat left behind from every brush of his lips. He hates himself for how affected he is by something so stupid.

“If something had happened to him...” Dan starts, shivering at the thought as his stomach lurches with nausea.

Phil tugs his hair gently, pulling Dan’s face away to force steely eye contact. “It didn’t,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “You got him there in time, and now we know what to do if it happens again. Don’t try to blame yourself for this, Dan.”

“But if-“

Phil shakes his head, cutting him off immediately. “No. You- you’re such a good dad, Dan. Seriously. The way you take care of them, the way you’d do anything for them...” he shakes his head again, something like mystified admiration swirling in the flecks of green in his eyes. “It’s one of the many things I love about you, okay? So just... don’t. You did the best thing for him, and you saved his life.”

Dan’s quiet for a long moment, slowly moving to rest his head back on Phil’s shoulder, pressing his damp face against Phil’s throat. “Okay,” he finally whispers. He presses a fleeting kiss to Phil’s neck, leaving his lips there to feel the way Phil swallows hard.

He’s just about to say something else, his stomach swirling with anxiety about the conversation he knows they need to have, but he’s interrupted by the melodic sound of the doorbell going.

Phil slowly extracts himself from Dan’s arms. “I’ll get it,” he offers, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of Dan’s mouth. “How about you go back to the lounge and make sure the kids picked a good film? I’ll bring the food and drinks up.”

Dan shakes his head, gesturing to the refrigerator. “I’ll get the drinks. I need a moment to... you know, not look like a crying mess,” he says through a wet laugh.

There’s something briefly sad that flickers in Phil’s gaze, and then he’s nodding, brushing a curl out of Dan’s face. “Alright. See you upstairs?”

Dan nods, giving him a small half-smile. Phil gives him a searching look before he finally leaves, headed to retrieve their food from the delivery man. After taking a moment to wipe his eyes and collect himself, Dan heads to the cupboard and grabs five cups, deciding it’s easier to carry them up empty and pour the drinks in when they get settled. Phil beats him to the lounge, and upon climbing the last step, Dan finds him distributing food to each of the kids. Dan pauses to watch the way Phil crouches down to cut Mia’s burger into pieces like she likes it, without her even asking. It warms Dan’s heart to see the way Phil acts with them, and he doesn’t know if that feeling will ever truly fade.

“Ribena okay with everyone?” Dan asks, finally stepping into the room. He’s got the stack of cups tucked into the crook of his elbow, the bottle of Ribena in one hand and the water pitcher in the other.

The kids chorus their agreements, and Dan quirks an eyebrow at Phil as he steps closer to the sofa. “Can you-“ he says, nodding at the glasses in his arm.

“Oh-“ Phil says, jumping to action. He takes the cups, and then the water pitcher, unstacking the cups so Dan can begin pouring.

“What’re we watching, guys?” Dan asks, glancing across the coffee table at the twins, who are sat in the floor, devouring their dinner.

“Kung Fu Panda,” Amelia answers around a bite of hamburger.

Dan’s nose crinkles but he doesn’t correct this behavior, just this once. Phil shoots him a knowing grin, and Dan pretends he doesn’t catch it. They finish pouring the right ratio of Ribena to water, and luckily Dan remembered to grab a long spoon to give them a quick stir. The children are mostly quiet as they eat, already focused on the film, so Dan and Phil quietly retreat to their sofa with their food, falling into a comfortable place beside each other as they eat.

They watch the film with little to no conversation, which Dan easily attributes to the long, exhausting day they’ve had. He can’t even consider staying up past the end of the film, and by the time everyone’s finished eating, there’s more than half an hour left. Dan stacks all the takeaway boxes for an easier disposal, then shifts to sit back on the sofa to wait out the rest of the film. Phil holds his arm out invitingly beside him, and Dan barely sends him a thankful glance before he leans into that comforting warmth.

Phil’s hand rests on his shoulder, his fingers scratching at the material of his jumper absently. Dan sighs. “Okay?” Phil breathes.

“Mhm. Exhausted,” Dan replies.

Phil makes a sympathetic little noise, much like he would to an animal, and Dan feels a fuzzy warmth flood his chest. “Nap for a bit, love. Everything’s fine. I’ll wake you when the film’s over.”

Dan nearly groans with relief at the very idea. “God, you’re actually my favorite human on earth, you know that?” He mumbles, getting comfortable, burrowing in against Phil’s chest, which does a little earthquake against Dan’s cheek.

“I’ll remind you that the next time I borrow some of your cereal,” Phil says, his voice full of quiet amusement.

Dan blinks an eye open at him. “It’s not borrowing if you can’t give it back,” he grouches. He’s not actually ill about it. He never could be, really.

Phil’s lip twitches. “I could regurgitate it to you like a baby bird.” Dan gags, and Phil laughs again.

Before Dan can even begin unpacking that, they’re interrupted by a tiny voice approaching them. It’s probably comical how they both look up at the same time, smiling at their child, who mirrors the expression.

“Can I come cuddle with you guys?” Jaiden asks, holding his latest stuffed dinosaur under his arm.

Dan nods, tugging on the blanket he and Phil’d draped over their laps earlier. “Of course, bubby. Come here.”

Jaiden crawls under the blanket, ending up pressed sort of half-between them, sitting mostly atop Dan’s thighs, with his back leaned against Phil’s chest. Dan bites his tongue on a laugh, sharing a look with Phil, who rolls his eyes. “You comfy, Jai?” Phil asks, rubbing a hand over his frizzy hair.

Nodding, Jaiden snuggles against his chest, digging his feet into one of Dan’s thighs to get situated. Dan winces, his leg twitching automatically. Of course this doesn’t go unnoticed to Phil, who gives him a little smile before gently adjusting Jaiden’s little body on his lap. “Here, bub, move your legs, you’re hurting Daddy.”

“Sorry,” Jaiden mumbles to Dan, half-heartedly paying attention to him. He allows himself to be maneuvered until his legs are hanging over Dan’s lap, Phil’s arm holding him up against his chest. Dan looks at the two of them for a minute, his eyes flickering up to meet Phil’s, something warm fizzing in his chest. Phil meets that gaze with a soft wink, and Dan forces himself to look away.

~~~

When the movie finally ends, Dan offers to carry Jaiden to bed while Phil and Levi clean up the mess from dinner. Amelia, surprisingly energetic for what time it is, offers to help clean. Dan’s glad to have a minute alone, carefully taking the stairs to get to the twins’ room. Jaiden is all but dead to the world, limp and heavier than usual in Dan’s arms. Dan wants to laugh or maybe cry with relief that he’s still here, that this was a minor thing that they now have a solution for. His heart aches at the idea that the day could’ve ended very differently.

Somehow he manages to get Jaiden settled into bed, dinosaur plushy tucked against his side, without so much as a stir. Dan probably takes longer than he should tucking him in, taking a moment to just hover his hand above his mouth to feel the warm puffs of breath, ensuring without a doubt that he’s okay.

That how Amelia and Phil find him a few minutes later, and Dan doesn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed about it. He catches Phil’s gaze for a second, watching the flicker of fondness before looking away. “C’mon, Mia, into bed,” Dan says quietly, moving over to her bed to tuck her in.

She’s quiet as she settles down, allowing Dan to smooth the blankets over her. When he asks which plushy she wants, she points to her lion, and Dan can’t help but glance over at Phil with a smirk. Rolling his eyes, Phil steps close to him, looping an arm around his shoulders and kissing his head. “Do you need anything else, Mia?”

Amelia shakes her head, but immediately holds her arms out for a hug. Of course Dan obliges at once before scooting away to allow Phil to do the same. “Is Jaiden going to be okay?” She whispers, looking over at her brother with something sad in her eyes.

Dan brushes her hair back gently, offering her a smile. “He’ll be okay, yeah. He’s got an inhaler, and now Dad and I know what to do if it happens again.”

She nods, petting the lion’s fur absently. “Can I get a new toy tomorrow? Since Jai got one?”

Dan tries his best to stifle a laugh, looking pointedly at her bed, almost entirely covered with stuffed animals of various shapes and sizes. “Um...” he trails off, looking to Phil for an answer.

The older man chews his lip in thought before giving him a sheepish shrug. “I mean... personally, I’d want a toy too, if I were her.”

Amelia cheers quietly and Dan rolls his eyes at the absolutely ridiculousness of it all. “You’re both spoiled, I think that’s what I’m hearing.”

Phil kisses Dan’s cheek so softly that Dan barely has time to register it before he’s already pulling away. “Maybe,” he agrees with a quiet smile. “But that’s just as much your fault as mine.”

Dan sighs, helpless. “I can’t even argue with you there.”

There’s a squeeze to his shoulder as Phil giggles, and then that hand slides down to pat his shoulder blade. “C’mon, Dan. It’s past our bedtime.”

Amelia makes a thoughtful face. “Aren’t you adults?” When Dan nods, she sighs, staring up at the ceiling. “When I’m an adult, I won’t have a bedtime.” She sounds wistful.

Dan snorts a quiet laugh before patting her arm gently. “Alright, lovebug. Sweet dreams.” With another kiss to her forehead, he stands, making sure that the night lights are switched on before he leads the way out of their room. He feels Phil’s hand slip into his own as they go, and he squeezes it almost unconsciously.

They’re quiet as they dress in their pajamas and go through their regular nightly routine. Dan’s head is buzzing with thoughts that feel too loud in the silence. He’s honestly not sure how Phil can’t hear them with how they scream, even from where he’s at in the bathroom. Dan tugs on a t-shirt, opting out of pajama bottoms in favor of just his usual pants. Phil comes back into their room and plugs his phone up, settling in his side of bed with a little sigh. When he catches Dan looking at him, he smiles. “Are you tired?”

Dan shrugs, then nods. “Yeah.”

Phil nods knowingly. “I want to talk before we go to sleep,” he says, voice apologetic.

Forcing a nod, Dan steps into the bathroom without a word, brushing his teeth methodically and taking his medicine when he’s finished. He feels anxious and fidgety, his fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm against his thigh as he stalls. He doesn’t want to go to bed, where he knows he’ll have to talk to Phil and explain the events of the day, away from little ears. But he can’t just loiter in the bathroom, so finally he forces himself back into the bedroom and straight into bed.

Phil’s sat up, watching Dan climb into bed. It’s not as if they never look at each other but something about Phil’s unwavering gaze crawls under his skin, making him feel hot and something like embarrassed.

Phil doesn’t let him feel it for long.

“Come here,” he whispers, holding his arms out for Dan to snuggle into. Dan goes willingly, his eyes already leaking with tears that he didn’t even know he had left to cry. “Shh, shh. You’re okay. Everything’s fine, love.”

“I...” he hesitates. But he wants to say this, for both of them. “I want to tell you what happened at the park.”

Phil makes a weak noise. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he assures Dan quietly. “I know... I know that was hard for you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Dan shakes his head, leaning away from Phil. He can’t help but feel trapped in his arms, at least for now. “Not just the asthma attack. I, um...” he’s not sure why but he briefly considers sharing the phone call with his mum. That’s absolutely, one hundred percent off limits. At least for now. “I had a conversation with Jaiden, before, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Okay...” Phil says slowly. He seems to realize that this means a lot to Dan, even without knowing what it is. He hesitates before dropping his hand to Dan’s thigh, his thumb stroking gently over the bare skin. “I’m listening,” he says softly.

Dan takes a deep breath, then begins to speak.

~~~

Dan tells him everything. He tells him how his heart hurt when Jaiden said he wished that he was biologically theirs. He tells him his fear of losing these children, of having to give them up to someone else, even if it is a better life. He talks about how his heart stopped when Amelia told him what happened to Jaiden, how fast it started beating when he found Jaiden on the ground, gasping for breath. He tells him how it felt to hear Jaiden cry the entire drive to A&E.

Phil listens intently, and doesn’t interrupt a single time. He strokes a hand over Dan’s thigh, eventually moving on to stroke his hair after gathering Dan up in his arms. When Dan cries, Phil makes soft, comforting noises in the back of his throat, wiping at the wetness pooled beneath Dan’s eyes with gentle fingertips. When Dan is finished speaking, he tucks his face into Phil’s neck, sniffling. Phil is quiet for a long time.

When he speaks, it’s not what Dan’s expecting to hear. “What would you do if they weren’t with us?” Dan makes a confused noise, and Phil clears his throat. “I... like, if they leave. How... how is that going to change our... situation?”

Dan always tries, really tries, not to let the idea of losing their little family get to him. He keeps it as far from the front of his mind as possible, and Phil has to know that by now. But even Dan has the sense to know that things can’t just stay this way forever, not really. So he forces himself to actually think about a life without the kids.

A life where they don’t have three children to feed, to read bedtime stories to, or watch movies with. A life without the sound of little feet thundering upstairs, and without the nightly cuddles Dan has become so very attached to. A life with empty bedrooms, an empty dining table, an empty flat.

A life that Phil will likely no longer feel the need to be a permanent part of, now that he’s experienced it and realizes just how hard it is to be a parent. A life where Phil sleeps in the guest room, and eventually moves out-because of course he actually does want a real family, and a real partner, rather than this game of house Dan’s given him.

A life where Dan has to cope with the idea, alone, that this- this life they have now, is the happiest he’s ever been in his whole life, because he’s sharing it with the man he’s never really fallen out of love with.

And that life mocks him from afar, a creeping spectator from the shadows in the corner, because he’s weak. He’s weak and will probably never have the guts to tell Phil the truth, not really.

So instead of saying any of that, Dan clears his throat, shifting out of Phil’s embrace. “I don’t know,” he whispers hoarsely.

Phil has something devastating in his eyes, something Dan can’t name, but he nods slowly. “Well... maybe we need to start thinking about that.”

Dan’s breath catches and it takes him a moment to speak but when he does, it’s to the sheets, unable to meet Phil’s eyes. “They’re my kids, Phil. In every way that matters, this- you guys are my whole world now. I don’t... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they ever get taken away.” The “I don’t know how to live without this, without you,” is unspoken.

Phil kisses his hair. He’s quiet for a while, and finally he sighs. “I know, bear. I feel the same way.”

Dan chews on his lip, thoughtful. “What did you think about what Hazel said earlier?” His heart pounds as he waits for Phil to say something, anything that might make his heart hurt less.

“I think... that we need to think about that some more.” His words are slow, careful. Dan nearly cringes away. Phil continues, unaware. “That’s a very permanent decision, Daniel. And...” Phil’s voice trails off, and Dan swallows a sob.

“I guess we’re not really permanent, are we?” Dan asks, almost bitterly. Not even almost- he’s actually very bitter about it- about all of this. He rolls until he’s laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, gripping at his chest and begging for his heart to stop hurting.

“That’s not what I said,” Phil says softly, something like hurt in his voice. The mattress dips and suddenly a weight is on Dan’s chest and soft black hair is tickling his chin. Phil’s arms wrap around Dan’s waist and Dan takes a deep, steadying breath to calm his emotions. “You’re always going to be my best friend, Dan.” Phil whispers.

Dan can feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but he tries desperately to blink them away as his arms come up to wrap around Phil’s waist. It’s one of the more compromising positions they’ve found themselves in, and as they settle into it, Phil’s thigh slips between Dan’s legs. When they’ve finally settled, Dan’s got a leg wrapped around one of Phil’s, and they’ve somehow both gotten their hands underneath each other’s shirts. It’s nice, Dan decides. “You’re mine too,” Dan says softly, his voice breaking.

Phil kisses his chest, a lingering, gentle thing. “You know why that’s important to me, right?” When Dan makes a humming noise in response, Phil nuzzles into his neck. He places one soft kiss to Dan’s jaw and then sighs. “You’re my favorite person, Dan. And that won’t ever change. But... doing this... adopting the kids, that’s big. That’s, you know...”

“More than you bargained for?” Dan interrupts, his voice irritated.

Phil makes a disagreeing noise. “No, Dan. This could never be anything less than exactly what I want. But we need to be on the same page about what we want. And right now... I don’t know if we are. And I think you should think about that more before we make a decision like this.”

Dan forces himself to steady his breathing. “Okay,” he whispers, his voice small.

The silence in the bedroom presses down on them, and Dan can’t find the words to dig their way out from under it. So instead he lies there, cheek pressed to Phil’s temple, struggling to breathe under the weight of what feels like the end of everything.

~~~

Sunday morning dawns cloudy and grey, like the weather decided to mirror Dan’s mood in whatever way it could. He stares at the ceiling, his heart heavy in his chest as he wonders whether or not today is going to be a bad day. He doesn’t hear steady breathing next to him like he does most mornings, and when his hand makes the journey across the sheets, they’re already chilled. Dan closes his eyes, picturing Phil getting their coffee ready for the morning. The thought very nearly makes him cry.

Determined to be a good parent and a good partner for the day, Dan forces himself out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. He’s so lost in his head that he doesn’t process the sound of the shower turning off, or the fact that the door is almost shut. His brain wakes up a little when he walks into a room full of steam.

He hears a squeak of surprise and his attention is jerked to the side, where Phil is stepping out of the shower. Naked. “Jesus, Dan!” He says with a breathy laugh. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Dan’s sure his whole face is flushed red. He tries to look elsewhere, but when he sees Phil turn and reach for a towel, his eyes wander. It’s not the first time he’s seen him naked, but it’s the first time he’s seen him naked knowing what he knows about himself now. “I- you weren’t- I didn’t mean to-“ Dan stutters, trying to tear his eyes away from Phil’s perfect ass.

“It’s okay,” Phil says warmly. He finally wraps a towel around his waist, but his lip twitches with something like a smirk. The butterflies in Dan’s stomach are having a riot. “Did you need something?”

Something about the question, the reminder that Dan is intruding on Phil’s personal space, sets Dan’s head back into orbit. “No, um- sorry, I’ll go.”

Just as he’s turning around to do just that, he hears Phil make a small noise. “I don’t mind,” he says quietly.

Dan freezes. “What?” He asks, turning to face him.

Phil avoids his eyes, turning to the mirror to apply his face moisturizer. “I said I don’t mind. Like, it doesn’t bother me for you to be in here with me.”

“While you’re- you were-“ Dan has no idea what words he needs. He’s barely processed the fact that he saw his best friend’s dick, knowing that said best friend is also the person he’s in love with.

Phil looks straight into his eyes and nods. “I know.” He pauses, turning away to pat his hands dry. “You can stay in here, if you want.” It’s almost conversational, how he says it, gesturing for Dan to get on with his morning routine if he wants.

Dan feels like his brain is short-circuiting just a little bit. “I...”

Before he can finish whatever dim-witted sentence he had in store, Phil reaches down, untucking the towel from around his waist. He meets Dan’s gaze in the mirror, for just a second, before he reaches for the clothes that Dan is just noticing sat on the counter.

Dan can’t do it. He’s borderline hyperventilating, and his skin feels so hot he thinks it might melt right off his skeleton. And he can’t do this. It’s an open invitation, one with so many implications, but he can’t. He just can’t.

“I’ll go... um, make coffee,” he stutters out uselessly before scurrying out of the room. He doesn’t wait to see or hear Phil’s reaction.

~~~

Dan’s stirring milk and sugar into a Hello Kitty mug, going through the motions with little awareness of them. He’s completely on autopilot, preparing two cups of coffee like he does most mornings, leaving Phil’s on the table as he goes to stand out on the balcony. He just needs a moment of fresh- well, fresh enough- air to try and process what almost happened in the bathroom.

He’s known for years how attractive Phil is, and realizing he’s been in love with him this whole time has only exacerbated how attracted Dan is to him. Seeing him freshly showered and naked less than five minutes after waking up sent Dan’s brain into very dangerous territory, and just reliving the encounter now is causing his trousers to tighten. He takes a few deep breaths, focusing on the way he can see his own breath in the November cold rather than focusing on the fact that he’s got a very embarrassing problem going on in his pants.

Whatever chance he had at calming down is ripped away with the sound of the balcony door being pushed open. Dan startles, but sips his coffee and continues looking over the balcony rather than turn around. Just to be safe.

“Dan, why’re you out here without a coat? It’s freezing,” Phil chastises, his voice holding absolutely none of the turmoil Dan is feeling at the moment. Either Phil really was unaffected or he’s just very good at hiding it. Either way, it’s quite inconvenient.

“‘M not cold,” Dan mumbles, holding his coffee mug close to his chest.

“Sure,” Phil says after a beat, clearly disbelieving. There’s the sound of the door opening again, and Dan assumes Phil’s decided not to entertain his bullshit this morning. Dan’s not sure whether he should feel relieved or not.

Suddenly the door opens again and a moment later, Dan feels something soft and heavy being draped over his shoulders. “Here,” Phil says softly, running his hands up and down Dan’s arms to warm him. “I don’t want you catching a cold out here.” He presses a kiss to the back of Dan’s head, his hand ruffling through the curls for a moment before he steps beside him.

Dan nods. “Thanks,” he mumbles. He’s still reeling, mind flooded with images of droplets sliding down pale skin, fogged up mirrors-

“Are you okay? You’re breathing funny.” Phil is saying, his voice barely reaching Dan through the haze. Dan feels the way Phil’s hand wraps around his arm, but everything is still fuzzy. “Dan?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, gently pulling away from Phil’s grip. “I need to get dressed.”

Phil gives him an odd look, his hand hovering in the air between them like he’s attached to Dan by some invisible string. “Oh... okay?”

Dan doesn’t look back at him before he disappears back into the flat.

~~~

When Dan finally re-emerges from their bedroom, Phil is standing in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. Dan’s clearly coming in on the tail-end of the conversation, and he pretends to busy himself with making toast so he doesn’t look like he’s eavesdropping.

“Right, sure. I can meet you in, like, half an hour?” Phil is saying, pulling his phone away briefly to glance at the time. Whoever he’s speaking to must agree, because then he’s saying his goodbyes and hanging up. He taps on his phone briefly before sliding it into his pocket and looking over at Dan. Dan avoids his eyes. “I was going to make some pancakes,” Phil says mildly.

Dan shrugs one shoulder, staring at the toaster as he waits for the bread to pop up. “‘S fine. Who was that?” He asks, nodding in Phil’s general direction.

“Martyn, he wants to meet up. Evan is sick and I think Cornelia is sick of Mar hovering,” Phil says, snorting a laugh.

Dan tries to force himself to act like he isn’t bothered. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to hang out with Martyn? If Evan is sick and contagious, we could end up with a houseful of sick kids ourselves, and we don’t really need that right now.” His voice has an edge to it that he really wishes he could get rid of.

Phil is giving him an odd look when Dan risks a glance at him. “I think it’ll be fine. Evan just barely has a fever, if anything I think Cornelia just wanted to have an excuse to get Martyn out of the house for the day.”

The toast finally pops out of the toaster, giving Dan something to focus on that isn’t the building emotion in his chest. He shrugs, mumbling, “whatever,” and plating up his toast. He spares another glance over at Phil, who’s watching him closely. “If you’re meeting him so soon you should probably go.”

“Right,” Phil says, searching Dan’s face. Dan turns away, petulant. Phil huffs a noise somewhere between a snort and a sigh before leaving the kitchen.

Dan busies himself with smoothing his almond butter on one slice of the toast, and finds he’s spread Phil’s favorite strawberry jam over the other, just out of habit. He huffs a breath out of his nose, beyond annoyed at himself and forcing away the little bubble of warmth that’s trying to remind him that he’s not actually upset with Phil. It’s hard to remember that, though, when Phil comes in a few minutes later, wearing his denim button-up and glasses, looking the picture of ease while Dan is still feeling raw on the inside from the events of the day before.

“Here,” Dan mumbles, shoving the Nutella toast over to him and turning away to nibble on his own. He pretends to watch the pigeons, only to realize after a moment of staring that the balcony is empty.

“You made me toast too?” Phil asks, sounding soft and surprised.

Dan shrugs. He glances over at Phil, who already has a big corner bite taken out of the bread, cheeks puffed out as he chews. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

“Thanks,” Phil says once he’s swallowed. He licks a bit of Nutella off his thumb and Dan forces himself to look away, feeling his face heat up. They’re quiet while they finish eating their toast, but then they’re both done and Phil is clearing his throat. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

The reminder that Phil is leaving sours Dan’s mood all over again. He turns away, turning the tap on just to hear something other than his own bitter thoughts. He shrugs, then shakes his head, silent. Phil sighs, and Dan tenses a little when he feels him press close to his side.

“Are you upset with me?” Phil asks, voice quiet but undeniably hurt.

Dan is, of course. He doesn’t even know why, really. His emotions are frazzled and fried and he doesn’t know what to do or say, so he shakes his head again, denying it.

There’s a brief pause and then Phil lets out another sigh, this time more impatient. “Okay,” he says, his voice tight. He leans in, and his lips barely brush Dan’s forehead before Dan turns away, the kiss falling where his hair meets his temple. Phil makes a wounded noise, and Dan closes his eyes, gripping the counter as he waits for the reprimand, or the fight, that he knows is coming. “I’ll see you later,” Phil murmurs to him, pressing his lips to Dan’s hair gently before turning to leave.

Dan listens to the tell-tale sound of Phil’s feet clomping down the hall and then the sound of him struggling to get his shoes on. Finally there’s the sound of keys jostling, and then the door closing gently, probably out of respect for the sleeping members of the house and not Dan. Still, he pretends they’re not in a fight, pretends that they’d had a nice breakfast together and had their usual affectionate goodbyes.

Somehow, this pretend doesn’t make up for the reality.

~~~

A day filled with spending quality time with his children is a remedy like no other. Dan still feels the ache somewhere in his chest, and the Phil-shaped absence in his day does hurt when he lets himself think too much about it. Still, spending most of the morning snuggling with Jaiden and watching movies heals him a little. Levi even sticks around, lounging at the other end of the sofa with Amelia tucked against his side. The soft family vibes of it all nearly brings Dan to tears, but he manages to keep himself under control.

At some point he gets a text from Phil saying that he’d be spending more of the day with Martyn than he realized. Dan frowns down at his screen, tilting it away from any curious little eyes.

Phil: Hey, Mar wants to do some early Christmas shopping for mum and dad while we’re out. Won’t be home until later.

Dan: it’s literally November?

Phil: Yeah, well. We don’t hang out as often anymore. It’ll be good to get it out of the way now.

Dan: fine, whatever

Phil: Kids okay?

Dan: yes.

Phil: Need anything?

Dan: guess not.

Phil: Okay. Love you guys.

Dan reads over this several times before locking his phone and sliding it under his thigh and out of view. That word shouldn’t send his heart racing the way it does, certainly not within the context. He knows what Phil meant. There’s no reason for him to have other feelings about it. No reason for him to mouth the words to himself, allowing his body to feel like they’re just for him.

“Daddy can we play Mario Kart?” A sweet voice calls from the other end of the sofa.

Dan turns a smile towards Amelia, shrugging. “That’s fine with me. Need help setting it up?”

Amelia shakes her head and pats Levi’s arm repeatedly, gesturing for him to do it. The teenager rolls his eyes but complies, sending Dan a smile when their eyes meet. “Will you play with us?” Amelia asks, scooting to sit in Levi’s spot against the corner of the sofa.

“Mm, I dunno,” Dan says warily. He does get a bit competitive with the game, and he can’t afford to keep swearing around them, not with the new swear jar.

“Please?” Jaiden asks, tilting his head to give Dan the most illegal pair of puppy dog eyes that he’s ever seen.

Dan sucks his teeth, contemplating. “Okay, how about this? You guys play a few rounds, and whoever the winner is has to play me. Deal?”

Amelia claps, nodding eagerly. “Yes!”

Levi brings over the controllers, handing one to each of the twins. Dan realizes then that he’s only retrieved two of them from the gaming cabinet. When Dan gives him a puzzled look, he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have some homework to get done, so...”

“Oh,” Dan says, a little disappointed that their family bonding time will be cut short. “Of course, yeah, that’s fine.”

Levi hesitates, scratching his collarbones, a nervous tic Dan’s noticed. “I could do it in here?” He suggests, sounding more like a question than anything else.

“You wouldn’t be too distracted?” Dan asks, glancing at where the twins have already started arguing about something.

“No,” Levi says, shaking his head fondly at his siblings. “I’ve got earbuds anyway, so it won’t be too distracting.”

Dan nods then, smiling. “Great! I’ll try to keep them quiet.”

Levi’s mouth quirks into a smile and he disappears to his room to retrieve his laptop and books. Dan leans back into the corner of the sofa and watches the twins, a blanket of calm settling over him. This is exactly the sort of day he wanted after the trauma of yesterday, although he still feels the tugging in his chest at Phil’s absence. He doesn’t see that going away anytime soon, so instead of dwelling on it, he immerses himself in enjoying this day with his kids.

~~~

By the time Dan hears the front door opening, he’s putting dinner away and listening for any sounds of distress coming from the bathroom where Jaiden is supposed to be taking a bath. It’s only because he’s listening so hard that he even hears the quiet click of the door being re-locked, and his hands fumble with the Tupperware bowl. He forces himself not to look up towards the sound of approaching footsteps, a hard feat since he’s been desperate to see Phil since the minute he’d walked out the door this morning. Another part of him, however, is more concerned with the fact that their conversation from earlier is still very much unresolved. Just thinking about how they’d parted ways this morning sours his mood, and he drops the stir-fry pan into the sink a little too harshly.

“Hey,” Phil says as he walks into the kitchen, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over a chair at the table before coming around the counter to join Dan. “I take it I missed dinner?” He asks, cautious.

“The kids were tired. I thought an early night was best,” Dan mutters, washing his hands and reaching for the towel without looking at Phil. “I put some away in a box for you. It’s in the fridge,” Dan gestures mildly with the hand towel before turning around, intending on going to check on the kids.

“Oh... thanks.” Phil drums his fingers on the counter. “Dan?”

Dan sighs, but drags his feet to a stop, closing his eyes briefly to prepare himself for whatever argument they’re about to have. He turns around, dragging his eyes over Phil’s face. “Yeah?” His voice is strained, even to his ears.

“I, um...” Phil starts, stumbling to a stop. “Are the kids in bed already?”

Something about his voice doesn’t sound right, like that’s not the question he’d wanted to ask, but Dan doesn’t mention it. “Mia is. Jai’s in the bath, and I think Levi is FaceTiming with Charlotte.”

Phil nods, glancing out at the balcony before looking over at Dan. “Okay. I’ll just, uh... eat dinner and um...”

“I’ll get Jaiden out of the bath. You can tell them goodnight when you’re done.” Everything they say to each other feels scripted. Dan hates it.

“Right. Okay.” Phil looks down, the silence in the room suddenly overwhelming.

Dan feels incredibly awkward standing there, so he does what he does best. He leaves.

~~~

After tucking Jaiden into bed and giving another round of hugs and kisses and ‘goodnight, I love you’s to the twins, Dan heads to his own bedroom. He can hear the sound of Phil watching something on his phone while he eats, and Dan closes the bedroom door behind himself for some privacy. He sends Levi a text reminding him not to stay up too late since it’s a school night, and when he’s finally alone and free of parental responsibility, he allows himself to fall apart.

Dan really doesn’t even realize he’s in need of a good cry until tears are streaking down his face, his breaths coming out shallow and quick. He wipes furiously at his eyes, pressing his fingers against his tear ducts until it hurts. He’s weak, he’s so weak, if he falls apart so easily just when he has a row with his partner. His co-parenting partner, his mind reminds him traitorously. There’s no other context that word fits into within their current dynamic, and he needs to remind himself of that before he loses it entirely.

The sound of the bedroom door opening jolts him out of his bubble of self-loathing. He turns away from Phil, swiping at his cheeks and trying to stifle his sniffles. He clears his throat twice, begging his body to get a grip and suck it up.

“Dan?” Phil’s voice calls softly, the mattress dipping on the other side of the bed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Dan flinches at the feeling of fingers tracing gently down his arm. “Nothing,” he croaks, swiping his phone off the bed and connecting it to the plug. It’s something to keep his hands busy, but it doesn’t last forever, obviously, and then he’s left sat there, dreading the moment when he has to turn and face Phil.

“Bullshit,” Phil snorts, not unkindly. “I’ve known you for ten years, Dan. I can tell when you’re crying.”

“‘M not,” Dan protests, uselessly.

The bed shifts as Phil moves, and Dan’s breath catches when Phil’s knees bracket his hips, his arms wrapping around Dan’s shoulders in a warm embrace as he presses his chest to Dan’s back. “Babe, talk to me.”

A sob escapes Dan’s throat at the pet name. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

“Dan?” Phil sounds panicked.

“I want it to be real,” Dan confesses, squeezing Phil’s arms so tightly he’s sure that he’ll leave bruises.

“What?” Phil asks, his voice colored in confusion. “Want what to be real?”

“All of it,” Dan whispers. “This, the family, all of it.”

He feels Phil gulp behind him, his Adam’s apple brushing against Dan’s shoulder. “It is real, Dan.” He sounds uncertain.

“Not like I want it to be,” Dan says, scornful.

Phil’s quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he admits. His voice sounds high and different though, making Dan wonder if he does.

And fuck, that’s really not something he can handle right now. Maybe not ever. “Nevermind,” he mumbles, gently prying Phil’s arms away from him.

“Wait, Dan,” Phil says, gripping Dan’s wrist.

Dan shrugs out of his grip. “Just stop,” he says. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, giving Phil half a glance. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He leaves Phil staring after him as he goes into the bathroom, stripping down to his pants and turning on the tap. He’s waiting for the water to warm up, taking deep breaths to calm himself, when the door opens. He’s so sick of jumping every time a door opens, honestly.

“Dan-“ Phil starts, reaching for him as soon as he’s in reaching distance.

It’s then that Dan realizes he’s just stood there, nothing covering him other than his black Calvins, worn out with time and wear. “Why are you in here?” He demands, trying to decide between crossing his arms to cover his hardening nipples, or clasping his hands to cover the bulge in his pants.

Phil shrugs carelessly. Dan doesn’t think he imagines the way Phil’s eyes flick up and down, checking him out. “It’s my bathroom too,” Phil says flippantly.

“Well yeah, but I was about to shower,” Dan snaps, the defensive tone coloring his voice.

Phil definitely checks him out this time, his eyes dragging a slow trail down Dan’s mostly naked body. “Go ahead,” Phil says, gesturing. “I’ll wait.”

Dan definitely can’t do that. He shivers at the implication and hopes that he can pass it off as a reaction to the chill in the air. He thinks Phil might be joking, but when he just crosses his arms and leans back against the sink, Dan knows he’s being serious. “You’re being a dick,” Dan snaps, grabbing his shirt and tugging it back over his head. He’s not going to be forced into this conversation, not when he feels so vulnerable, literally only a scrap of fabric away from being naked under Phil’s gaze.

“Dan, wait,” Phil says, grabbing his arm when Dan brushes past him to leave.

“Fuck off,” Dan spits, angry when he realizes that he’s crying again.

Phil gently strokes a hand down Dan’s side, his other hand coming up to cup Dan’s neck. “Hey. I’m sorry.” His voice is soft, and that just makes Dan cry harder. “I’m not trying to be a dick. But you won’t talk to me.”

“Yeah? Well being a twat isn’t winning you any favors,” Dan says, avoiding Phil’s eyes as he wipes at his own.

Phil sighs. “Why are you so cross with me today?”

“I’m not.”

“Dan.”

There’s a beat of silence, and when Dan squirms, Phil tightens his grip. Dan hates that he likes it. “Fine,” he says in a quick breath. He raises his gaze, staring Phil square in the face. “You left today.”

Phil looks caught off guard. “I... yeah, Martyn wanted to see me.”

“Yeah,” Dan snorts. “And yesterday our son almost died.” He levels Phil with a look, begging him to get the hint.

“I...” Phil starts, clearly at a loss for what to say. “I’m sorry.” He tugs Dan to his chest, hugging him tightly.

And for some reason, that does it. Dan’s attempts at drying his stupid over-productive tear ducts are futile, and the flood gates open again. Phil shushes him gently, stroking the back of Dan’s head in soft, gentle sweeps. Dan just keeps crying, his body shaking against Phil’s.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Phil is mumbling, pressing kisses to his hair.

“I really needed you here today,” Dan says, wiping his nose unashamedly against Phil’s t-shirt. “It sucked, being here alone with them, thinking that any minute something might happen and you wouldn’t even be here.”

Phil squeezes his hip harder. “I know. I’m sorry, Dan, really. I wasn’t thinking. Or I guess I just thought...” he trails off, but Dan doesn’t offer him an out. He wants to know what Phil thought. “I thought that, you know, after this morning... you wanted some space.”

It takes Dan a moment to place what he means. He flushes as soon as he remembers, as images of Phil, naked and dripping from a shower, flood his brain immediately. He shifts his hips away from Phil’s just a bit, hoping he’s subtle about it. It’s actually a good point, as far as Phil’s stupid anxiety-ridden logic is usually concerned, but that doesn’t mean it was right. “I needed you here. The kids needed you here.”

“I know, I just-“

Dan pulls away enough to look at him. “No, obviously you didn’t. Because you left.”

Phil’s shoulders sag, and Dan can tell he’s disappointed in himself. “You’re right. Of course you are.”

He gives it a moment, and then Dan leans his head back on Phil’s shoulder. “Please don’t run away like that again,” he whispers.

Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s hips. “I won’t. I want to be there for you, and for them.”

Dan doesn’t think Phil realizes what he actually meant, and he’s too emotionally raw to correct him. He tilts his chin, pressing a kiss to Phil’s throat. Phil shivers, and fuck, Dan should probably keep his distance. They’re clearly just touch-starved and desperate for some sort of sexual release, something that Dan knows they don’t share with each other, even as much as he wants to. He’s thinking this, and regretting all the times he’s not said what he felt, when Phil cups his cheek, nudging his face just so and-

And kisses him. Phil kisses him so softly, like Dan’s never been kissed before. Dan can’t help but gasp a little, his hand coming up to hold Phil’s wrist. His eyes slip closed as Phil strokes across his cheekbone, kissing Dan again and again, each time their lips meet better than the last. He loves this. He loves the way Phil’s mouth tastes, something sugary mixed with a hint of the coffee he drinks every evening, despite Dan’s warnings of sleep deprivation. He loves the way Phil’s hands are so gentle as they touch him, the hand on his hip currently traveling towards his bum, touching lightly, reverently. He loves the way he can feel Phil’s heart beating against his own chest from where they’re pressed so tightly together, and Dan can’t help but wish they were wearing less clothes. And he especially loves the way it sounds, the quiet smacking of their lips echoing in the room, louder even than the water Dan left running.

This must be what drags Dan out of this incredible moment, the reminder that he’s left the water running and has a shower to take. He pulls away, blood thrumming and heart leaping when Phil chases his lips. He surveys him, staring at Phil’s cherry red, spit-slick mouth and Dan decides that he wants to devour him. But first, he really does need that shower. “I need to take a shower,” he says dumbly.

Phil looks scandalized. “Er, right. Okay.” He clears his throat, bringing a hand up to wipe his mouth. His cheeks are flushed, and Dan can’t decide if it’s from the heat of the bathroom or the kissing.

They stare at each other for a second and Phil quirks an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?” He says, wiping nervously at nothing.

Dan can’t help it. He leans forward, pressing kisses all over Phil’s cute little face. “Nope,” he mumbles.

Phil giggles uncontrollably, and Dan shivers as he feels Phil’s hands pushing underneath his shirt. He’s grinning too, enough that he’s really not even kissing Phil’s face anymore, just dragging his lips across his jaw before forcing himself to pull away. Phil’s laughter dies out and he’s stood staring at Dan with something too warm, too intimate, in his eyes. Dan leans in and kisses him again, amazed at the fact that Phil seems to want this, at least for now. He grabs Phil’s wrist under his shirt and guides his hand over to a nipple, encouraging Phil to touch him. He’s over pretending like this isn’t exactly what he wants.

“You know,” Phil says conversationally as he trails kisses down Dan’s neck. “You’re even better at this than I thought you’d be.”

Dan can’t help but preen at the compliment. “Yeah?” He asks shyly.

“Yeah,” Phil says, blowing a breath against Dan’s neck before sucking gently. Dan shivers. “Can I...” Phil trails off, his fingertips dipping into the waistband of Dan’s pants.

“What?” Dan asks, eager to hear the end of that question.

Phil pulls away and looks at him with something vulnerable in his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

Dan closes his eyes and nods quickly. He’s afraid if he doesn’t give his consent immediately, Phil might change his mind. “Fuck yeah. Yes.”

“Okay,” Phil says, smiling at him, a little nervous twitch to his lips. “I haven’t done this in a while, so you might have to give me a second to get it right,” he says. Dan’s about to ask what exactly he hasn’t done in a while when Phil drops to his knees.

Dan stops breathing. “Fuck,” he whimpers, heart racing. He never, in a million years, thought he’d ever see this. Phil kneeling in front of him, rubbing Dan gently through his briefs, looking up at Dan for reassurance. “Yeah,” Dan says uselessly. He’s shaking a little, he realizes when he reaches forward to push Phil’s hair out of his face. Doing something he does all the time, but in this context, makes it so incredibly hot that Dan can hardly stand it.

“Hey,” Phil says softly, reaching up and grabbing Dan’s hand. “We don’t have to, I can-“

“No!” Dan says, too quickly. Phil smirks at him. “I mean,” Dan says, clearing his throat. “I want you to, I’m just...” He flaps his hand in some awkward non-explanation of how he’s feeling. “Nervous,” he supplies when Phil just tilts his head at him.

Phil smiles, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Dan’s stomach, right below his navel. “It’s just me. I’m not scary, am I?” He looks up at Dan through his eyelashes as he kisses down, his final kiss pressed against the base of Dan’s cock through the fabric.

Dan takes a deep breath. “Fucking terrifying,” he says.

Phil presses his giggles against Dan’s tummy and Dan’s muscles tighten nervously. It’s been so long since someone’s touched him like this, he’s a little terrified among all the exhilaration of it. But Phil knows him better than any other person on earth, and he knows exactly what Dan needs. He reaches up and tangles their fingers together, bringing Dan’s hands to rest in his hair. Phil watches him as he gently guides Dan’s hands to stroke his hair, his face melting into something soft when Dan relaxes.

“There we go,” Phil says quietly. “Are you alright?”

Dan nods, his hands still petting Phil’s hair even when Phil’s hands drop to rest on Dan’s hips. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Phil smiles at him. “Good.” He ducks his head and begins sucking lightly at Dan’s cock through the fabric, and Dan stifles a groan and his thighs shake. He’s so hard already, and Phil’s barely touched him. He genuinely doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to stand it when Phil takes his cock out to properly blow him, which is where Dan’s pretty sure this is going. Phil pulls away and tugs lightly at Dan’s pants. “Ready?” He says.

Dan loves him for triple-checking. He opens his mouth to tell Phil to do it already, he consents, he wants this so bad-

He hears a voice in the other room.

“Daddy?”

Both of them freeze, staring at each other with matching looks of terror. They wait, as if to see if their child is going to leave. It barely takes a minute before they hear a knock at the bathroom door. “Dad?” Jaiden calls again.

“Shit,” Dan hisses, pushing at Phil’s head, yanking at his t-shirt to get him to stand. “Fuck, god fucking dammit,” he mutters, heart racing for entirely all the wrong reasons.

“Shh,” Phil shushes him, turning to check his hair in the mirror, his hands trembling. “Just a sec, Jai!”

“Phil!” Dan protests, covering himself. “I don’t- I can’t go out there like this!” He whisper-shouts.

“Relax, I’ll go take care of him,” Phil says, turning around to face Dan. He smirks as he glances down at Dan’s little problem, and Dan wants to throttle him. “You should probably take care of that,” he says, gesturing to Dan’s crotch.

Dan’s face feels like it’s on fire. “God. Yeah, okay. I’ll uh... take a shower.”

Phil nods, biting his lip, no doubt hiding a laugh. “Right,” he says.

“Hello?” Jaiden calls outside the bathroom door, sounding exasperated. “Dan? Phil? Somebody?”

Dan has to giggle at this, and Phil bursts into laughter. “Go, go,” Dan says, pushing Phil towards the door. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

Phil stops at the door and twists around just enough that he can press a kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Okay,” he says, letting out a breath, his eyes looking a little wild. Their son has started knocking at the door now, so Phil rolls his eyes before gripping the doorknob. “Right, I’m going,” he says, still casting one last glance over at Dan before opening the door and slipping out.

Before the door closes, Dan hears Jaiden questioning him. “What took so long? Where’s daddy?”

Dan doesn’t hear all of Phil’s response before he shuts the door, and half of Dan is relieved that their child won’t be traumatized by seeing him like this. The other half of him is hysterical that Phil is the one who has to deal with lying to their child who almost caught them in a very compromising position.

Now that he’s alone, Dan gives himself a moment to reflect on everything that just happened. He made out with his best friend. That’s fine. They’ve kissed before, although Dan was obviously still in denial about what that meant to both of them. Even bigger than that, in so many ways, is the fact that Phil was about to suck his dick. He literally felt Phil’s mouth against his cock, and if they hadn’t been interrupted, he would have felt Phil’s mouth in a place he’s never felt it. He almost can’t wrap his head around it, but he’s still hard as he steps into the stream of the shower, and he can wrap his head, or his hand, around that problem.

He jerks himself off fast and hard, his mind flooded with images of Phil, Phil, Phil. He’s breathing hard and nearly choking on the steam of the water and then it’s over all too soon, all the evidence washed down the drain. Relief washes over him in waves, and for the first time in a long time, it’s not accompanied by guilt. He wasn’t a perfect man, and of course over the last few weeks he’s wanked to the thought of Phil, and every time he’s been encompassed in such guilt that he’d swear he would never do it again.

It’s impossibly relieving to not have that guilt accompany what he thinks is his best wank in months.

He washes his hair and body quickly after that, desperate to crawl into bed with Phil and talk about all of this. This day has been an absolute whirlwind of emotions but now his heart is set on clearing things up and putting his truth out there on the table. It’s terrifying to think about, absolutely nerve wracking to rehearse the words in his head as he towels himself dry and slips on some pajamas.

“I’m in love with you,” he mouths to himself in the mirror. His lips keep quirking up, making his words look almost fake as he repeats the sentiment again and again. He feels giddy, borderline deranged with excitement, as he brushes his teeth and forces down his nightly pill.

Dan’s so excited and nervous that he somehow forgets that they were very much interrupted by one of their children earlier, and it doesn’t cross his mind until he steps out of the bathroom that there might have been something wrong.

“Uh, hi,” he says dumbly, surveying the scene in front of him.

Phil and Jaiden both glance up from where they’re laying snuggled together in the bed, a book propped open in Phil’s lap as he reads quietly. Jaiden looks sleepy and adorable as he waves his little hand at Dan, and Phil looks only a little apologetic. “Hi,” Phil says with a smile.

“What’s going on here?” Dan asks, propping his hands on his hips.

Jaiden flushes, burrowing down and tugging the duvet up to his chin. “I had a bad dream. Dad said I could stay in here tonight.”

Dan glances up and Phil shrugs. He mouths, “I’m sorry,” but Dan waves him off.

“Of course, buddy. Do you need a plushy or anything from your room?” Dan asks, going to turn on Phil’s lamp and then turn off the overhead light.

Jaiden holds up a familiar stuffed lion, and Dan’s heart clenches. “Dad said I could borrow his for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” Phil reminds him softly.

Jaiden nods obediently. “I know.”

Dan crawls into bed on the other side of Jaiden, scooting in to join in on the cuddle. Phil adjusts accordingly, reaching the arm behind Jaiden’s head so that he can rest his hand at the base of Dan’s neck, stroking gently at where his hair is getting long. Their eyes meet and Dan knows that their talk will have to wait until tomorrow. That doesn’t fill him with dread, or anxiety like it used to. Instead, he feels calm, even settled, although a little impatient. It’s a good feeling.

“What’re we reading, Dad?” Dan asks, brushing Jaiden’s unruly hair back and kissing his forehead.

Phil tugs lightly at a curl at the back of Dan’s head. “We’re reading The Hobbit, Daddy,” Phil teases, his tongue poking out between his teeth in that adorable way that Dan finds so endearing.

Dan cringes at the use of the name; hearing it coming from Phil rather than their children just makes it weird and wrong. Phil knows it, of course. They both do. They both stick their tongues out at each other and giggle like schoolchildren, completely endeared with each other. And even though they can’t talk about it right now, with Jaiden complaining about them being weird and begging Phil to let Dan read all of Gandalf’s parts, Dan knows they’re going to be okay.

#phan #phanfiction #parent!au #parent!phan #foster parent #foster parent au #bbc producer!phil #school counselor!dan #fake relationship #friends to lovers #best friends #if you don't love me pretend #iydlmp #chapter 22 #iydlmp chapter 22 #mild smut at the end #blink and you'll miss it

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

Text

Arcadia

➜ Words: 9.6k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Dystopia!AU, Utopia!AU

➜ Summary: In a new era, the human race has largely been eradicated through warfare and disease. You are one of the few left, living in the forest and making use of the wild. Or at least that's what you think until a man quite literally crashes into your home.

cr.

It happened in the afternoon. A deafening noise from the sky. A thin whistle that crescendoed. Louder than what you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It shrieked horrifically — rumbling the ground — roaring through the silent forest. And you looked up to see a streak of white in the sky. Immediately, you dropped the animal in hand, abandoned the trap at your feet and ducked your head. But the explosions never came raining down on your skull. Instead, it happened in the distance. An explosion that made the evening sky spark bright white. It took a full minute for it to die down, for the smoke to fade into the horizon as if nothing occurred a moment ago. Yet, you stalked the fumes and commotion, crept in the shadows. You knew better than to approach foreign things, to approach clamor and potential danger. But the forest had been quiet for so long that it provoked your curiosity. What you found past the shrubbery and trunks of spruce is a giant white cylinder with rounded edges. A capsule. So white that it burnt to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. But the colour had been marred by dirt and foliage after it crash-landed. The mud and ground hugged it, molded against the shape after it quite literally smashed into the Earth. Before you could approach the thing and investigate, there was another noise. An unfamiliar whirring. It made you flinch and stumble back, taking refuge behind the trees. But as you peeked out, you saw something crawling out of the open compartment. A groan. Someone. You hadn’t seen another person in years. Immediately, you stepped forward and he saw you. Eyes darting to look into yours. He was in stark white clothing from top to bottom, pants that stopped too short at his ankles, a shirt that was cut awkwardly and too small for his broad shoulders. It was vivid against his dark hair and golden skin, almost made him look ridiculous. But you supposed at the time you didn’t look any better — ripped jeans, dirtied boots, a worn jacket taken years ago from some loot and your hair tucked into a baseball cap with a logo too faded away to discern. “I-I won’t hurt you,” he stutters out, putting up his hands. “I...I’m Seokjin. I’m part of the rescue fleet of Arcadia.” Arcadia? The man, Seokjin, sighs after your ongoing silence. “Sorry. Of course you wouldn’t understand me. I,” he enunciates slowly and points to himself. “Am. Friend.” His hands wildly form a heart for you to see and then he points at you with his left while still making wild gestures with his right. He tries to smile brightly. “I. Help. You—” “I understand you,” you deadpan with an impassive expression. The man is visibly taken aback, eyes rounded as his mouth opens and closes comically. “Y-You can speak?” Your arm lifts and your index finger points at his head. “You’re bleeding.” ... .. . He looks around the interior of the tree house like a lost child, seated on the floor and waiting for his parents to return. It’s a meager shack made of alder, large gaps for windows, tattered backpacks stained and collected in the corner by some pairs of shoes and an old radio. There’s a fishing line hung diagonally across the room and above his head, used to dry clothing. But he finds himself drawn to the radio and crawls over to try to switch it on, tugging on its antenna, turning the dials. Yet, all that answers is noisy static. “It’s been broken since a long time ago,” you pipe up, nearly startling him to death with your sudden presence. But you had simply climbed up the ladder quietly. “I’m still tinkering with it.” Seokjin sets the radio down. “I have a device similar to it. Thought this one would work.” He pulls out a black and thick rectangular piece of plastic from his back pocket and you scarcely recognize it. “A walkie-talkie?” “Kind of. It’s called an Erewhon device. State of the art technology, even if it looks chunky. It transmits radio waves without any limit of range and it syncs to one other device. No third can ever join or hack into it. I use this one to communicate with my base. Or at least I usually would, if the thing didn’t break in the crash.” You don’t understand anything he’s saying, so you chalk it up to gibberish. “It stings.” Seokjin sharply inhales as you apply pressure to his wound. But the ache soon alleviates when you wrap bandages around his head. “What’s your name?” It’s your last roll of bandages. “Y/N.” It’s not like you to be so generous or welcoming towards a stranger. The nature of your upbringing and life has ingrained an innate suspicion to anyone who isn’t yourself. But there’s a characteristic about the man in front of you that doesn’t make you doubt his intentions. It must also be partly because you’ve been on your own for so long and your inner subconscious is willing to dance with danger if it means having some kind of contact with another. But whatever the case may be, you don’t feel wary of Seokjin even if you should. “Are...there any others?” “Other humans? There hasn’t been any for years.” “There’s….just you?” “Just me.” Until now. “Where did you come from?” “I come from a place called Arcadia. It’s a utopian society just off the Zion mountain and Elysian Fields,” he says as if you know what those places are. “It has everything and it’s where the remaining people have gathered for years. I actually rescue people like you who are still alive and bring them back. How...how did you manage to survive on your own out here?” “I just do.” “How long have you been here?” “I don’t remember. The apocalypse happened when I was young.” Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgment like he understands. “It happened when I was seven.” “I remember celebrating my fifth birthday in an underground bunker with my parents.” He doesn’t ask where they are. If they aren’t with you now, it’s safe to assume your parents are dead like his are. “I had a lot of people help me along the way, a lot of people who died,” you say, “I’ve been in sanctuaries and communities until they fell. Everything was only temporary. So, I’ve been on my own for a while.” “Arcadia is different,” he says with bright eyes, breathy voice full of wonder and hope. “It’s where the new world is beginning. I can take you there.” “Isn’t your flying machine broken?” “You mean my Xanadu Shuttle?” Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. You notice how the tips of his ears turn scarlet. “Actually, it was my first time taking it out that far. I’m kind of new to all this. But don’t worry! When it crashed, it sent a notification to headquarters and gave coordinates, so they should find me soon. I’ll try to fix my Erewhon device too.” You don’t pretend like you know the things he’s referring to. “Are you hungry?” “I have dried pemmican!” He lights up as if remembering and pulls a transparent wrapped bar from his back pocket. You wonder what else is in those endless pockets of his. Seokjin must read the puzzled expression on his face since his smile widens. “Want to try it?” “Sure.” You rip open the wrapper and you’re met with a dark red and gray block, and a meaty scent that makes you slightly nauseous. But you’ve eaten worse before, so you take a bite. Seokjin instantly laughs when your expression wrinkles up. “It tastes better the more you eat it. Promise.” “It’s awful.” There’s a temptation to spit it out the window, but afraid that it might be considered rude, you swallow it down and quickly hand back the monstrosity to him. “Do you want rabbit?” “Sure.” … .. . It’s odd to eat a meal with someone — an experience that you’re unable to pinpoint your last memory of. It’s rather mundane, but mundanity has long been a privilege in this era. “You can sleep in the tree house if you want.” “Where will you be?” “I usually like to sleep on the forest floor anyway.” It isn’t a lie. One of the few things you love is drifting off while gazing at the stars, that the last thing you see is the sparkling horizon before it’s blue again when you awake. “How many people are there in Arcadia?” “About twenty five hundred people so far.” So far. But if what he tells you is true, then it’s a big settlement. As if able to see how he’s piqued your curiosity, Seokjin continues, “It’s an amazing place and we’re completely self-sufficient. There’s an agriculture industry that’s growing and greenhouses underground that gives us all the food we need. They developed a water filtration system as well and it’s connected to the mountain springs nearby. There are pods that people live in, schools that kids can go to, jobs, medicine— you’ll see when I take you back.” “I never said I was going with you.” “What? Why wouldn’t you?” You don’t answer. … .. . “Morning.” You watch as he climbs down the ladder and nearly slips off. It’s an amusing sight to see his hair in a disarray and his eyes swollen beyond recognition. “Glad to see you’re finally up.” Seokjin, on the other hand, is baffled at how you’re already moving so energetically. “When….did you get up?” “Since sunrise. Changed your bandages too, if you didn’t already notice. I’m getting breakfast prepared. There’s a stream down this path that you can wash your face in. Collect water for me while you’re at it.” You hand him a silver pail. Walking off, Seokjin finally gets a good look at the forest. It’s quiet, save for the chickadees he notices in the thin branches of the spruce, twiddling as he passes and the woodpeckers hammering against the alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And the verdant green almost blinds his vision with how vivid it is. He’s never been so surrounded in nature before — never has it encapsulated him completely. When Seokjin returns, he’s more alert than before. “Thought you got lost for a second. You can set the water over there. Do you want to help me look at my traps?” He follows you and nearly steps into a trap before you yell at him. But he’s amazed. You’ve designated a whole section full of traps made of loose string and branches, and when he asks, he learns they’re treadle snares to drowning snares. “They don’t yield a lot of food. It depends on the season, but it mainly depends on luck.” “What do you usually eat then?” “I have some canned stuff from the cities, but there’s a lot of berries and herbs around here that are edible. I’m in the process of growing some basil and tomatoes too, so I never really starve out here.” Seokjin is astounded. You can see it on his face, but you don’t know why that is. It’s not like any of these things are impressive. It’s just things you learn once you’ve lived out here long enough. “You’re making a fire now?” He watches as you take out a curved piece of wood with string attached and another piece that’s pointed at the end. You saw it back and forth on some more wood and Seokjin watches the smoke, how the friction creates the heat, how you transfer the embers to tinder. “Is this how you always make fire?” “Nowadays. At the beginning when I still had materials, I would use batteries and steel wool. Even flint and steel. But the bow drill method works fine. I save my matches for when I need them.” “That’s incredible. Is this what you do? I mean, collect food and make fires.” “I guess.” “Do you do anything else? Do you ever get bored?” It’s an interesting question — boredom. A privilege in itself to be bored rather than worried. Though you suppose that in this quiet forest with no one else, it’s a wonder how you never went insane. But while loneliness sporadically plagues you, you’ve never necessarily felt isolated or deprived. It’s always been this way. You’ve learnt to adapt to it. Humans can handle more than they think when push comes to shove. “There’s always something to do. Whether that’s upkeeping the tree house or making more traps or planting. But sometimes in the summer, I go exploring for a few days. Into the cities. There’re lots of places I haven’t been. It’s a good opportunity for me to get seeds, food, and clothes, so I’m never….bored.” “Wow, t-that’s...that’s impressive.” “There’s nothing impressive. It’s just the way things are.” “I...went to Arcadia in its early days,” Seokjin explains, “It was established twenty years ago, right after the apocalypse began, so I’ve never really got to see the outside world.” “They don’t let you leave?” “It’s not that. It just isn’t safe to. Actually, that’s why I wanted to join the rescue fleet. It gives me a chance to see the outside world.” “You haven’t even seen anything yet. If you want….I can take you somewhere. Better than this.” “Really?!” Seokjin’s eyes widen, irises practically glistening. Your lips tickle, threatening to upturn. “Sure.” … .. . Past the stream and thicket is a clearing. A meadow of daisies. It’s overgrown grass that reaches to your knees, white petals spilling over with yellow centers filled among them. The sound of insects buzzing and circling through the field is heard as the sun beats down. You found this place a good year ago and while it doesn’t serve much of a purpose, you left it undisturbed. The apocalypse was a catastrophe, but it did a lot for nature. “This….this….” Seokjin is breathless, unable to force a coherent word out. He looks over at the blue horizon that seems to steal the land as the abundance of flowers overwhelms his senses. “It’s beautiful, huh?” He stays silent, taking in the sight in front of him. He has seen a vase of flowers at best — most certainly not a boundless field of them. Not like this. Not in the entirety of his life so far. Not in a way where he could inhale the fresh air, count clouds, memorize the azure shade of the sky, and not where he is unable to see where the end or the start is. Seokjin is overwhelmed, and he realizes why the choice to stay remains. Why you would refuse his offer of coming back with him to Arcadia. A part of him also wants to stay here. Where freedom lies. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs while still taking in the sight. The colours are so rich that he feels regretful he couldn’t see it sooner. “I didn’t mean to push you to come with me.” “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.” Seokjin finally peels his eyes away from the scenery to gaze at you. Yet you continue to look forward. “You made me curious about this Arcadia.” And the corner of his mouth turns into a smile. … .. . The next few days are spent with Seokjin — noisy at your side, but it’s entirely invited. He goes back to his vehicle, his so-called fancy Xanadu Shuttle, and tries to contact his people. Much like your radio, there’s only static on the other end when he flips and fiddles with switches and the lights eventually die off. He messes with his Erewhon too, the little walkie-talkie device, though it’s to no avail. But Seokjin never becomes discouraged. He remains optimistic, a rarity in today’s climate. The man has no doubts they’ll come for him and even reassures you. In the meanwhile, you show him how to start a fire, how to collect berries and certain plants, and he helps you sharpen the knives you have. But the man looks away when you have to kill the animal you trapped and he makes you kill the bugs that land on him as well. It’s a bit ridiculous and outlandish, but frighteningly natural how quickly he falls into place and adapts. You forgot what it was like to have someone with you. To be able to talk to someone. … .. . “Are you ever lonely?” Seokjin asks one night when he’s laid on the grass, arms tucked underneath his head and staring up at the stars by your side. He copied you after several occasions where he found you like that. You immediately heard the gasp that left his mouth the first time he laid down. It’s beautiful enough that he’s unconcerned with insects and doesn’t get up until you chide him to. “Sometimes. Then I think about how people are more trouble than they’re worth.” He grins. “Why do you say that?” “People mess up things and always have their self-interest at heart. Learned it after I had a gun pointed on me by someone I thought was a friend.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright. Just the way things are. Anything to survive, right?” “Is that why you’re on your own?” “Partly. It’s hard when people die too. I’d rather not deal with that.” “Why’d you agree to help me then?” Seokjin asks after a moment. “If people always mess things up.” “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone. I thought talking to you would be worth the risk. And it’s not like you’re not messing things up. I’m leaving with you, right?” Seokjin grins, meeting your eyes. It goes quiet and then you pipe up again— “I do sing sometimes to myself. Helps keep me sane.” “Like what?” “I don’t know.” “Show me.” You outright scoff. “No.” “Please?” A sharp exhale later, you start mumbling, slurring words together in some obscure melody. Your voice is rigid and stiff, out of tune even to your own ears. But you’ve heard it from your parents before. It’s some jingle on television back when electricity still worked. Instantly, Seokjin starts laughing. “Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t know the lyrics!” “No, no, i-it’s amazing, please continue!” Seokjin squeaks out in the midst of a giggling fit and the corner of your own mouth twitches into a subtle smile. … .. . Unfortunately, these simple days don’t last long. Seokjin continues messing with his Erewhon device whenever he gets the chance — banging it on the tree house wall much to your dismay, curling up with it using a screwdriver kit he got from his capsule — and one evening, it suddenly comes alive. There’s the sound of static and someone’s muffled voice. “Hello?! Code White. R-six-four-three. This is Kim Seokjin from fleet seventy two.” “R-four-......three-nine.” It’s difficult to discern, but that’s all the other line says before the device goes silent again. You look to Seokjin, anticipating dejection and disappointment. But instead, a grin spreads into his cheeks and his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “Y/N. They’re coming soon.” … .. . It’s a morning of checking for traps, of hearing the orchestral songs of nature, of holding your breath as the breeze whisks through the strands of your hair. You’re tip-toeing to the simple snare laid on the ground when the familiar, deafening noise returns to the sky. A thin whistle that crescendos. Louder than you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It rumbles the ground, roaring through the silent forest. And you look up to see a streak of white in the sky. It’s a larger white vessel with glass windows around. So white that it burns to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. And it descends to the same place Seokjin crash-landed. Seokjin finds you and the two of you venture through the forest and shrubby towards it. There’s a whirring and a compartment opens. Three different people step out, dressed in that unnatural white much like Seokjin is, pants and shirt cut off oddly. They look at Seokjin with smiles and incredulous expressions. “I can’t believe you actually crashed.” “It wasn’t my fault, JK!” Seokjin whines immediately and then quickly greets the other two females who he’s evidently less friendly with. “Amber. Lizzy. Good to see you too.” “This something I expected from Namjoon or even Jimin, not you,” the shorter-hair girl named Amber huffs out as she playfully shakes her head. “At least he’s safe,” Lizzy says with a smile. “Saves us from having to transport him back in a stretcher. But….who’s….that?” Her eyes dart over to you and the other two strangers follow her line of sigh, re-directing their attention. Then their mouths drop open, eyes widening in surprise, having not seen you there. Seokjin steps aside, allowing the light to shed on you. “She’s a lone one.” “A-A lone one…?” “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Amber whispers softly, lowering herself to meet your height and connect your eyes with hers as if you were a wounded animal. But then light flashes beneath her irises and her brows furrow. “Right. She might not know how to speak. Where’s my translation devi—” The corner of Seokjin’s mouth tilts. “She does.” You step forward, directly underneath the canopy spotlight coming through the spruce, walnut, and alder. “My name is Y/N.”

Arcadia. It’s protected by a dome-like structure reminiscent of glass, but as one of the strangers narrates, it’s supposedly a magnetic force field to protect against natural disasters. The place is ruled by tall buildings like the cities, but unlike it in the sense that they’re not decaying. They haven’t turned brown under wear and tear, don’t have moss growing on the sides of it. Rather, there are patches of green in between the paved pathways, flickering screens that are seemingly floating mid-air, masses of people walking past one another. It’s a utopian society, they tell you. But you’re not sure what that means. “Welcome to Arcadia,” the voice from above speaks rigidly. The door whirs as it opens. And white is all you see. White floors. White walls. People dressed in white. The white lights burn your vision as you stagger out, being aided by the strangers who were onboard with you. They welcome you. Tell you they hope this place could be your refuge and new home. And you’re taken immediately by strangers until you begin thrashing, calling out to Seokjin until he consoles you. He promises that they mean no harm, that he’ll see you soon, and it’s enough for you to be relieved. They lead you away, give you a new set of white clothing that are soft to the touch and a bin to place your old clothes in. You feel vulnerable as you strip from your grimy clothes and trade them in. You’ve never been able to afford to hold onto sentimentalities. But it’s hard to let them go. … .. . “Hello—” The doctor glances at his clipboard. “You must be the new refugee, Y/N! Oh right, they call it newcomer now, not refugee. Anyway, nice to meet you, I’m Jung Hoseok. I’ll be assessing you today and setting you up to live in Arcadia. You understand me, correct?” “Yes, I do.” “Excellent! Makes things easier for me if we can speak the same language. But feel free to tell me if you want me to slow down. We’ll take things one step at a time.” The man grins brightly and sits on his stool, spinning around to a thin screen on the desk. “We’re going to be doing some tests together today, so I can figure out what I’ll need to help you with and we can make sure your transition is as smooth as possible.” “Okay.” You knew a doctor once. She was similar to him, whimsical as he seemingly is, until she had to amputate her own arm and then bled to death. “Do you have any questions?” “Not really.” There’s an eye examination done until you tell him you don’t know all the letters of the alphabet. He switches to pictures afterwards and is enthused as he tells you that your eyes are apparently fine. He makes you lay down and open your mouth to examine your teeth. You spit into a vial, have your blood drawn. You step into a white capsule with black bars twirling around you. He shows you a picture of your bones and scanned brain with the excitement akin to a child’s afterwards. And he asks too many questions. “So you mainly ate rabbits, berries and other plants? Fascinating.” — “How often do you sleep?” — “So your bowel movements were pretty consistent?” You miss Seokjin. … .. . “Seokjin, can you please tell us what happened on the fifth?” The commander, chief, supervisor and several others are seated on the other side of the table. “Yes. I was dispatched to forty one degrees, twenty four point two eight minutes north. Halfway there, I….became distracted by the scenery, and went off course. I became alert again when the shuttle skimmed along treetops. The console received a malfunction notification and I subsequently crashed into a forest area.” “The maintenance record shows your Xanadu Shuttle was updated on the second of the previous month?” “Yes.” “Then do you accept responsibility for this incident?” “Yes, I do.” There’s no point in putting up a fight. All the evidence is all in the machinery and Seokjin had made no attempt to hide it. “I’m interested in the girl you rescued,” the Commander speaks up, tapping his pen on his clipboard. “When did you come into contact with her after you crashed?” “After I crashed, I exited my Xanadu Shuttle and caught sight of her standing amongst the trees. I think...the accident got her attention and she came to investigate what it was.” He nods and the people on the other side of the table look around at one another. There are soft murmurs and Seokjin stays quiet through their deliberation, keeping his eyes on his own report. After a minute, it simmers down. “The panel appreciates your honesty and integrity, Seokjin. In spite of your circumstances, you were able to rescue someone who will become a valuable member to our society and such a thing should not be overlooked. However, the crash was ultimately on your part and as such, you will have to be put on probation for a period of two months. The panel will also require that you retake your license class. Do you agree these actions are necessary?” Relief washes over him. Seokjin thought this was it. He was anticipating that he’d lose his job. “Y-Yes. Thank you.” “You will have to pass your license class.” “Yes, I will.” “There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you, Seokjin,” The Commander speaks up. “I spoke to our Premier and Minister prior to this meeting and we came to an agreement that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if you could foster the newcomer you rescued. Typically, as you know, we house newcomers for a while and monitor them. But she...seems to be a special case.” The Chief furrows his brows. “Yes, she was isolated, wasn’t she?” It’s known to all that the lone ones are usually the people that are most unstable. The ones with animalistic behaviour as a result of living in the wild and being socially deprived. The problematic ones. But they’re wrong. Seokjin doesn’t outright refute his own superiors, yet he’s certain that you don’t have any of those issues. You’re not violent. Uncivilized. Barbaric. “Usually people are found in groups or clusters.” “Exactly that. But it seems like Seokjin has built a rapport with her. It might lead to a smoother transition if there’s immediate integration. Or at least, it’s an experiment we want to try. He has a calm temperament as well which makes him an ideal candidate to attempt this new method. Would you be willing to house this newcomer for a period of time, Seokjin?” He doesn’t need a second longer to think about it. “I wouldn’t mind whatsoever.” ... .. . Seokjin finds you and almost bursts out laughing with how relieved you look. “Jin!” He doesn’t mind the nickname either. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Hoseok twirls around with a blazing smile, his white coat fluttering with him. “But I have a feeling you’re here to see my little guest and not me.” “You’re right.” He enters and stands by your side. “Has everything been alright?” “Of course!” Hoseok interjects before you can answer. “I’m one of the best doctors here, what do you take me for? We had a very fun time together, right, Y/N?” “Uh, sure.” “I’ll take it.” Seokjin smiles and looks at his old friend. “Is there anything…?” “She’s healthy. She’s been taking care of herself well. Nothing that’s too concerning.” Hoseok's eyes meet yours and he grins. “You’re approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have any family here in Arcadia, but you don’t have any diseases, so that’s something to be happy about! Minimal dental work that needs to be done. Blood pressure is good. You have a slight magnesium and iodine deficiency, but nothing dark greens, whole grains, fish and eggs can’t fix. I’ll give you some vitamins to be safe and some medication to avoid illnesses you’re potentially susceptible to in Arcadia.” “That’s good news,” Jin exhales. “You’re also healthy enough to have children!” Hoseok announces and if possible his grin widens. You blink at him and he quickly reads your confused expression. “Right, you might not be aware but it’s one of the main ambitions of Arcadia to repopulate society. People with the most compatible genes get paired together into family units. Depending on how your integration goes, you might get paired up in a family unit by the end of the week.” “What?” You’re reeling. Starting a family and having children are things at the very back of your mind, not even in the realm of what your thoughts are, and you’re not sure what to think at this news. Jin sighs at his friend. “You’re freaking her out.” “Am I? Sorry,” the man laughs and looks at you. “Don’t worry. No one will force you. It’s just...highly suggested and recommended.” … .. . “That’s the dining hall.” “What do they serve?” “On Mondays, there’s quinoa. Tuesday is this dried beans dish. So on and so forth. Don’t worry, there’s poultry too, so there are eggs and chicken breast which you can order. There’s corn, milk, cheese and a selection of fruit too. They also serve protein powders you can mix with water that gives you the same nutrition value.” “It’s not like...that stuff you gave me, right?” “You mean pemmican? No, it’s better. Or at least I hope so.” He smiles. “Everyone has the same food. Sometimes during celebrations though, they serve different things.” “There’s not much privacy, is there?” Seokjin follows your line of sight to the glass buildings where you’re able to see the people working on each floor. “I guess not. I’ve never really thought about it.” You suppose it’s something to get used to. “Are...people staring at me, Jin?” “Don’t mind it. It’s not everyday we get a new face around here.” Right as he says that, you lift your head to discover your face plastered on one of the screens at the top of the building as if you were a wanted criminal. Seokjin laughs. “News spreads fast around here.” “I bet it does,” you mutter, a bit unnerved. “It’s a nice place if you follow the rules, trust me.” “What happens if someone breaks a rule?” “Well, there’s a focus on restorative justice for small crimes. So people often do community service or talk to victims or the people they affected and try their best to fix their mistakes.” “What about big crimes? Like if you killed someone.” Yet, Seokjin stays silent for a moment. “They disappear.” Your brows furrow, not sure what he means. But he doesn’t elaborate and you don’t push for an answer, uncertain that you want to know more. Arcadia isn’t as you expected it to be. When Seokjin told you stories, part of you anticipated it being lesser and merely blown up in proportion through his evident love of this place. You had predicted a community ridden with suspicion, like many of the sanctuaries you had been to before they inevitably collapsed. Leaders suppressing their people. Scarcity in resources. Another part of you expected an otherworldly universe, full of gibberish and things you didn’t understand. Much like the technology he carried with him or the shuttle that crashed in the forest. But what is presented in front of you is a sort of familiarity in a changed background. People like you know them, except courteous and independent. “This is my housing unit.” It’s a blinding white, two stories with the top floor off center and extended off the right side. It looks like two boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other with giant pane glass windows at the front. “It’s not much but it’s my home.” You nod as your eyes drift to his lawn — a tiny patch of grass that surrounds the path leading up to the front door. As if entranced, you launch forward towards it. But it feels different underneath your feet, past the soles of your shoes. The soil isn’t soft. There aren’t any lumps, no grip when you try to root yourself into it. Seokjin notices your reaction. “It’s artificial grass.” “What does that mean?” “It’s fake.” “Fake? You can’t get real grass?” “Guess not.” The interior of his home is less white than all of Arcadia. There are mismatched cushions, wooden tables and bookshelves, fake yellow flowers on his marble kitchen counter, paintings of oceans and cities placed on the wall next to photographs of himself growing up. You glance over the knick-knacks lining the shelves, snow globes and postcards, tiny things you’ve always seen lying around shops in the decaying towns, but never paid much attention to. “Sorry. It’s a bit messy.” “No, I like it.” He shows you to your room, an empty one down the hall. It’s much less decorated than his living space and he quickly excuses himself to tumble back in with heavier blankets and proper pillows. “Had I known you were coming, I would’ve had everything already set up!” “I don’t think any of us knew I would be here.” He laughs. “That’s true.” You walk to the window, taking a peek outside to the white city that towers over and covers the blue sky, the tiny patches of grass that alleviates the brightness of Arcadia, the flying shuttles hovering past the paved paths. “You’re probably tired, right? Do you want to rest a bit? I have a few things to do, so…” “You don’t have to worry about me, Jin. I can take care of myself. Probably.” Seokjin ends up shutting the door after promising he won’t take long. But it’s the first time in hours that there’s finally silence. And you allow the quietness to simmer down on you as you take a seat on the edge of the soft bed that sinks underneath your weight. You stare at the sheets, the white walls and floor, the luminescent sunlight streaming through the windows. You’re not sure how you feel. … .. . You stare down at your slab of white meat, so white that you wonder if everything in Arcadia is dyed in this blinding shade. It’s something you might have to ask Jin, even if it’s a bit ridiculous. You’re just not used to having meat that isn’t charged by the flames of a bonfire. But still, you tear it with your fingers and when you bring it to your mouth, it tastes dry and heavy — like it’s fake. “This isn’t very good, is it?” “It isn’t?” Jin blinks and you lift your head. Immediately, your eyes connect to a stranger who instantly turns away and it occurs to you that people are watching. “Don’t worry. It’s because you’re not using utensils. Here.” He hands you a metal stick with three prongs at the end and another one that’s rounded. Understandably, it’s awkward in your hold, hurts in your grip. It goes silent as you fumble with it. The chicken breast almost flies off your metal tray. “It’s okay.” He smiles at your visible frustration and reaches over to slice it with a knife. Jin gently takes your hand holding the fork and pierces the piece. “Like this, see? Not too bad, right?” “It would be easier with my hands.” He agrees, “It would be.” “Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A familiar red-head comes prancing up to the table and steals a seat next to you. “I’m Lizzy. We met on the Xanadu Shuttle, remember? I was the one telling you all about the history of Arcadia?” “Yes, I do.” “This is Namjoon. He’s one of our robotics engineers,” she introduces a gawky, strapping male with framed glasses. He takes a seat next to Seokjin. “A pleasure to be of your acquaintance. I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the past two hours or so. I am friends with Hoseok. He doesn’t indulge me in much information, he told me he received a great person of interest in his office. I believe that person may be you—” Seokjin interrupts his ramble, “Namjoon.” “Don’t mind him,” Lizzy laughs, ignoring the two men as she leans over the table to intrude into your personal space. “How are you getting settled in? Everything okay?” “Yeah. I’d say everything’s okay.” “I heard you were living with Jin now. Tell me, is he as messy at home as he is at work?” “I am not messy,” he protests. “Only a little,” you divulge her with a small smile. Namjoon smiles. “I heard you crashed. Glad to see you’re still alive and well.” “Thanks.” Seokjin’s eyes roll as his voice drips of sarcasm. “I’m sorry you couldn’t use my body for your next humanoid robotic experiment.” “Not now, but in due time,” the other man teases then turns to you. “It’s a shame you’re partnered with Seokjin. He can be quite clumsy and forgetful. You’ll end up becoming his handyman like I am.” “His first time he got into a Xanadu Craft, he broke the console,” Lizzy tells, making your mouth upturn. Namjoon swallows down his food before asking, “If I may be intrusive, Y/N, is it really true that you were alone? In the forest, I mean.” “I...was.” “How long were you alone for?” “I’m not sure. I think maybe two years.” “And before that?” “I...uh...traveled around and met different people.” He leans forward. “And what happened to those people?” “Well, some...passed away and others went somewhere else.” “What did they pass away from?” There’s a loud scraping of a chair against the tiled floor, grating to your ears. “I’m stuffed. Aren’t you, Y/N? I think we should head back now. Sorry, Joon, Lizzy. Might have to cut your questions short there. Maybe you can ask more next time.” “Oh, alright then.” They bid you farewell and Lizzy waves with a smile. As you exit, you look at Seokjin. “Thank you.” He saved you from answering, from bringing up memories you had no intentions of returning to. Yet he smiles and then looks away, feigning ignorance. “For what?” … .. . They’re wrong. It’s not a shame at all to be with Jin at all. If anything, you think you’re quite fortunate. Ever since you’ve met him, he’s proven himself time and time again to be thoughtful and considerate — traits that you thought were gone in this era. But it’s him who makes it easier to deal with these changes, to enter into this new world. … .. . “I thought you were gone,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You’re laying on his lawn in the middle of the night in bare feet. “I knocked on your door and then searched my whole house.” “Where did you think I was?” “I don’t know.” Seokjin plops down on his artificial grass, stretching out his body and laying beside you like all those times before. “I was worried. I thought something happened to you.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” “I couldn’t sleep.” It’s quiet as the pair of you look to the sky with your hands folded on top of your stomachs. The lamp posts nearby casted warm glows on your visages. The warm breeze making his cheeks rosy. Yet, none of you can see the stars — not with the light pollution of Arcadia, not when all the buildings were towering so high and covering it, not like out there in the middle of the forest. “Remember when we were in the forest, Jin?” “I do. I remember that one time, you didn’t completely put out the fire and my pants almost set on fire.” You giggle and Jin relishes in the sound. “I apologized for that and who told you to sit so close to that spot?” “Hey, I just wanted to be next to you.” You remember the nights when you were able to drift off while staring at the horizon and how you were awoken by the first blush of dawn, sunlight coming through the trees. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long time before you have an experience like that again. It’s going to be a long, long time. If ever again. “I feel homesick,” you whisper, finally being able to pinpoint your emotions and it’s the most honest you’ve been since you arrived. “I don’t want to be paired up with anyone or have kids.” Jin reaches out and you feel his hand against the back of yours. He holds it, clasping it tight. You shift and your eyes meet. “Don’t worry. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” You trust him. … .. . “If you want, we don’t have to eat in the dining center anymore. We can eat at home.” The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is that allowed?” “I’ll find a way around it,” Jin promises. … .. . “Please, Hoseok.” “You know that’s not how the system works. There’s not much I can do anyway.” “But you can put in your recommendation.” He’s silent in contemplation. “She’s compatible with you, but more so compatible with others. Plus, she’d assimilate better with someone stricter.” “I want to protect her. She’s my responsibility. Pair her with me.” Seokjin won’t let you be paired up with someone else in a family unit, expected to stay together and have children. He’ll keep his promise to you and be with you until the end — it’s also his selfish wish to be with you. The other man sighs. “I’ll make a note of it, but I can’t promise anything.” … .. . You’re unfamiliar with the devices at hand — the kitchen appliances with automated voices that speak when you come close, the machines with tens of buttons you can’t read. They’re all things you once overlooked when you scrambled for remaining supplies. “Is everything okay?” “I’m trying to heat this up. You said I could use it, right?” “Yeah. Here.” Seokjin comes behind you and takes your hand, guiding you where to press. “Click this button and then this one.” You don’t understand technology at all. Even the television is odd, an overload on your senses. “What do you think?” he asks, watching your reaction in amusement and how your eyes are as wide as the screen flashing against your face. “It’s...a lot to take in.” “That’s okay. Do you want to go outside instead? We can, if you want to.” You glance out the window. “I’m fine here. I’m not used to there being so many people.” “How about we work on some more worksheets?” “Again?” Jin laughs and the sound is tinkling. “You have to learn eventually. Come on.” He pulls you up and is happy to sit next to you at his kitchen table to teach you how to hold a pencil, how to write each letter and answer your questions. You’re a fast learner. Today your strokes are smoother and you learn how to spell his name. … .. . Seokjin often knocks on your door before going to bed to bid you goodnight. Yet he seldomly finds you there, where you’re supposed to be. He wonders if you’re outside on his lawn again, but instead, he discovers you standing in his living room. You’re gazing out the window quietly with an unreadable expression. “Is there something wrong?” You turn around with a small smile. “I’m just a little homesick.” He joins you, staring out at the city and the lampposts lined on the paved paths. “How do we go outside, Jin? Not just outside, but beyond the dome.” To the forest again. “Most people aren’t allowed outside because it’s dangerous. You would need to have my job or something similar, and that’s after you graduate from a three year program and pass several exams.” It’s quiet and neither of you look at one another or speak when you reach over, discreetly taking his hand into yours. Seokjin laces his fingers through yours and squeezes. He’s the only reason you can starve off the longing sewed uncomfortably in your chest. ... .. . In the following days, he receives a notification. The leaders are interested in you as a newcomer and extended an invitation to the party. So he helps you pick an appropriate outfit and the two of you enter with your hand looped around his arm as he reassures you. “You must be Y/N!” The strangers, leaders of Arcadia, welcome you with tall bubbling glasses, one of which that you receive from a waiter. It tastes disgusting, but you try to not let it show on your face. “It’s good to see that you’re getting yourself accustomed to Arcadia. I see you’re with your future partner this evening.” The man laughs boisterously while you exchange expressions with Seokjin. “That’s supposed to be a secret,” the woman beside him chides. “Right, right. The postings of the new family units go up on Friday. My apologies for ruining the surprise, but I assume it is a happy one.” You look up at him, gazing meeting Seokjin’s at once. The relief is overwhelming and what follows is a kind of excitement. Part of the weight lifted off your shoulders and Jin smiles tenderly. He leans in close, whispering in your ear so you’re the only one who hears— “You shouldn’t look at me like that in a place like this or I might just do something about it in front of all these people.” It’s bold. Unexpected but you know with the heat that rises into your face, it isn’t unwelcome. “Y/N, is it?” The intimate moment is intercepted by other individuals approaching in blue attire, form fitting dress simple and modest. “You must be the newcomer! I’ve heard so much about you.” “Yes, how has your transition been? Are you finding everything accommodating?” You hope they don’t come close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks. “Yes. Arcadia has been very welcoming to me.” They smile. “It’s so fortunate you can understand us and we don’t have to use those translating devices.” “You were alone, correct?” another asks. “How did you fare in the wild like that? How did you manage to even eat?” “I trapped animals like rabbits and squirrels and roasted them over fires.” Laughter is suddenly roused all around you. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do such a primitive thing anymore?” “What I’m curious about is how you’re still alive without any radiation poisoning.” “I used a radon detector. It was given to me a long time ago by an older woman who was with me. She died.” Automatic silence sweeps through the crowd. You clear your throat. “But I used it when I traveled through the cities.” “I see.” Some are fascinated while others aren’t. “How preserved are these old cities?” “Most buildings are still relatively in-tact. There are abandoned cars and buses too, but they’re useless without fuel and everything’s been raided, so there’s not much left. It’s one of the reasons I started to live in the forest.” “Poor thing,” someone sympathizes, “Someone should’ve rescued you sooner. You wouldn’t have to suffer so much.” “I didn’t suffer.” They’re taken aback, clearing their throats and moving on from the subject. A man directs to the refreshment table — all the while Jin pulls you closer to him and away from the prying eyes of Arcadia. … .. . Later on in the evening when Seokjin’s gone to relieve himself, you meet an old man seated alone at the table. “I was outside too,” he croaks. “Until two years ago.” Your eyes find his — past the wrinkles are bright irises — and you remain silent. “Many things happened that the people here would never understand. But my biggest regret is coming here willingly. Arcadia offers many things,” he says, “it has everything but one.” “Freedom.” … .. . The words stick to you. Like flies to honey. Or the magnets on Jin’s fridge. They don’t cease from your mind — a plague that spreads, a pollutant that you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try. Jin worries about you, but he doesn’t ask. He knows every time he does, you’ll reassure him that you’re fine. So one night, he takes your hand and shows you to his television. “Put this on.” He hands you a black, heavy device and smiles at your visible reluctance. “Trust me.” You slip it on top of your head and it sits comfortably over your eyes, obstructing your vision in complete darkness. Headphones are put over your ears and you discover both of your senses of sight and sound are completely disabled. “What are you doin—” The words die upon your tongue the moment the machine flickers on. There are chickadees chirping and woodpeckers digging against the bark. The sound of insects flapping their wings in the beating sun and the whistling wind intensifies. You see the forest, a forest. Canopies of spruce, walnut, and alder cascading light to the verdant floor overgrown in shrubbery. A cry chokes in your throat, but then it bubbles into laughter instead. You jump up and down. “I see it. I see it!” You whirl around, looking in each direction. To the blue horizon and the sound of the rustling leaves. Your home. But when you take it off, it’s all gone. You’re shrouded in darkness with Seokjin’s features barely discernible. You’re trapped in the very utopia you had followed him to. And you cry. For the first time in his presence, for the first time in a long while, sobs break through your frame at what you’ve lost — what you’ve traded in, what you’ve given up. Jin embraces you, arms wrapped around your frame, trying his best to keep you whole. “I want to go back.” … .. . Jin makes it easier to be in Arcadia. He gives you reason to become accustomed to it. He makes you wish you wanted to stay. But he’s not enough to dissipate your constant wistfulness. He isn’t the solution to your plaguing dilemmas, but you’re glad he doesn’t have to bear that burden. You wouldn’t want Jin to harbour the hardship of being your fix. … .. . It’s in the dead of the night that Seokjin comes out of his room and finds you. In the dark, you’re seated on the floor with your knees folded to your chest and the virtual reality headset slipped on top of your head, over your eyes and ears. You’re taking it all in. The orchestral songs of nature, the birds and leaves, the swaying of the grass and flourishing shrubs, bathing in the warm sunlight you cannot feel. He sees you, but doesn’t say anything, merely turning away. At same time, you feel the presence of another and slip the device in time to catch his retreating backside. “Jin,” you call out for him, knowing you’ve been caught. He hums, turning around and the two of you look at one another. “I’m sorry.” The dark-haired man smiles tenderly. “It’s me who should apologize. I’m the one who brought you here selfishly.” “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who agreed to some and I’m...the one having trouble adjusting.” “That’s not it. The problem is you’re not where you should be. Home. Not my home. Not Arcadia. But your home. “ You stand and he meets you halfway. You press your face to his shoulder and he embraces you. “I’ll help you go back,” Seokjin murmurs against your hair. “I thought you would be happy here, but I don’t want to keep you against your will.” “Come with me.” “You know I can’t,” he whispers in spite of your soft-spoken plea. “I have a life here. Like how you can’t leave yours. Arcadia is my home. It always will be.” You hold him closer, shutting your eyes to savour the moment. “Won’t you get into trouble?” “I’ll find some way.” The corner of his mouth turns. “I always end up fine. You will too.” … .. . The year’s posting goes up and just as the man had said, you and Seokjin are paired together. The two of you hold hands as you look at it, taking your time to read it over. It’s slow, but you understand nonetheless. You’re congratulated by those around him, people you recognize and friends you have yet to know. It’s fortunate it worked out that way, but it’s still bittersweet, knowing of your upcoming departure. And that same night, five hours past twelve, Jin takes you across Arcadia. The white shuttle is ready when you arrive in the dark and you scarcely recognize its scratched paint and dented surface. It’s the same one that he crashed in, the one that took him to you. “I programmed the path back. It’ll go automatically without you needing to drive it. And once you close the door, it’ll come back on its own. I’ll erase the data’s history. Take this.” Seokjin gently places the sling of a heavy bag on your shoulder. “There are clothes in here, blankets, medicine, a first aid kit, some canned food and seeds of new plants you don’t have. It should help you out.” Tears threaten to spill from your lash line. “Jin. Wait.” Hope blooms within him, wondering if you’ve changed your mind, that you want to stay. But he knows having such selfish desires won’t help him, so he puts them away. Just for a moment. He tries his best not to hang onto you, to hold you down. “It was because of you that I could even cope so well. You made it so much easier for me. I...I…” But Jin lets his greed slip. He closes the distance and kisses you senseless. The man swallows your soft gasp and comes to cradle the back of your neck as you ease into him. You relish in the gentle touch, his tender affections and taste one another’s lips. It’s bittersweet, yet he pulls away with a faint smile. “You should get in.” You nod, pulling away from him. Everything the two of you wanted to say has already translated through the kiss. Still, you take every moment you can and look to him. “Thank you, Jin.” The doors whir as it closes. He gazes at you till the very last second, till it shuts. The thin whistle diminuendos as it lifts into the air. He watches the shuttle fade from sight and when the sun lifts at the first blush of dawn, what’s left is a streak of white in the sky.

The world is limitless. You have learned of such a fact at a young age, traveling from desserts to mountains, finding all the hiding places and safe spots that others had claimed no longer existed. But they did and you’ve sought refuge in this forest, found a home amongst the rustling foliage and canopies ruled by spruce, walnut, and alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And without the presence of others, you could listen to the woodpeckers hammering against the wood, the wings of insects fluttering about. Everything was the way you left it. Unchanged from the time you left like it was waiting for you. It’s as if Arcadia and Seokjin was a fever dream. Except the mementos brought back with you reminds you otherwise. You dig into your bag, looking through what he’s given you, everything he picked out that he knew would help. But you discover something special at the very bottom. It’s a black, thick rectangular piece of plastic reminiscent of a walkie-talkie, synced up to only one other without a third in between. You hold the Erewhon device to your lips and press the side of the button. “Hello.” There’s a pause. “My name is Y/N.” Silence follows. But then there’s the sound of static and someone’s crystal clear voice. “Nice to meet you. I’m Seokjin.” A wide smile spreads into your cheeks.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #seokjin reader insert #seokjin x reader #jin reader insert #jin x reader #btsboulangerie #I don't really know if there's 50/50 fluff and angst #there's not really that much fluff and not that much angst in general #but I don't really know how to describe this fic any other way lol #so I went with 50 50 cause it is truly neutral #hope you enjoyed this piece!!

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