#so i think i maybe need to just peace out of the fandom entirely. perhaps make a new blog. idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mangowillow · 3 years ago

Text

perhaps love

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

summary: for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

genre/tags: fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, hurt & comfort, mentions of drinking & insomnia

word count: 12.5 k

a/n: no matter how many times i tear this story down, it will always come back swinging. perhaps love was the very first fic i wrote for the fandom and this story means a ton.

For as long as you could remember, you had loved Jungkook with all of your heart.

But the reality is, love seemed out of reach, a far stretch. Not when Jungkook was first and foremost your best friend.

The whole apartment was surrounded by darkness, except for the pure moonlight that seeped through your bedroom window. Your room was your favorite place in the world-- away from everyone, just you and the stillness. You had really bad sleeping habits and your insomnia has gotten worse over time. You tried everything to fall asleep, including hot showers and scented candles. Nothing worked… except for Jungkook.

Jungkook usually played games into the night as his own way to unwind from the stress of being one of the most sought-after graphic artists. When he’s not holding the console, he’s nose deep into his computer or tablet, illustrating his next commission. He just submitted his drafts for his latest client’s marketing kit a few hours prior so he could afford to while away his time tonight. He walked to the kitchen to grab another can of beer when he saw your bedroom door slightly ajar. He padded his way through the hall and leaned against the doorframe, watching your peaceful expression

“Can’t sleep?”

You turned your head in the direction of the bedroom door. Jungkook’s gentle voice that echoed through the quiet of their shared apartment was his other favorite place in the world.

“It’s always hard.”

Jungkook pushed the door further and went inside. You two had been living together for almost two years and Jungkook already knew the layout of the space like the back of his hand. He set the unopened beer can on the bedside table and went under the duvet with you. It had always been this simple-- it was either Jungkook grabbed an extra beer can and share it with you or coaxed you to sleep entirely. Tonight, it was the latter. Jungkook ran a hand up and down your back.

You felt a pang inside your chest. It was barely there but still felt. Tonight was different, lonelier. You closed your eyes, thinking that maybe this was just how it had to be.

“Tell me what you need,” Jungkook muttered.

“Gguk…” you started. Jungkook hummed, ever so kind, so patient. “Can you help me sleep?”

Years of friendship made words between you comfortable and safe. Your insomnia started right around the time your dance studio was gaining more enrollees and by the end of a year, you already needed to hire a few more dancers and bigger studio space. Jungkook was there to witness all your hard work, sleepless nights trying to perfect a routine you had to teach every week. Jungkook was there to help you through the breakdowns and occasionally had to endure your spats, to which you apologized for with ramen and kimbap.

You and Jungkook go way back, but tonight it’s just the two of you and your shared present. Jungkook helped you lay down on the bed and your heart swelled . Jungkook lay on his side as he gently guided you to face him. In the calm of the night, you saw stars in Jungkook’s eyes. You willed yourself not to speak for fear of breaking the moment. Jungkook started to caress your cheek ever so lightly, eyes falling close as you reveled in the softness of how Jungkook took care of you. As Jungkook continued to comfort you, he started singing your favorite sleep song.

now playing: watch you sleep. by girl in red

Jungkook’s melodious voice rang through the room with much reverence. You both find yourselves busy in life, but you always, always come back home to each other-- and that thought makes your heart ache so much more. Tonight might be lonely, but you also treasured moments like this when you allowed yourself to surrender, to take pleasure in being with Jungkook. By the time he finished the song, you were already fighting to stay awake.

I want to be with you for longer.

“What about your game, Gguk?”

“I will play another round before I go to bed. Right now, you’re more important.” Jungkook tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you need me to.”

“Gguk-ah.”

A smirk found its way into Jungkook’s pretty lips. He knew what was coming next.

“Can you stay?”

It felt like the whole room stilled ten times over.

“I mean… just for tonight,” you quickly added, worried you might’ve said the wrong thing too late.

Jungkook gently got up from the bed and walked out the door, leaving you to wonder if you messed up. Yeah, you did , you thought. Was it that easy to mess things up? Was Jungkook really that uninterested? As you listened to Jungkook’s footsteps, you also heard the gameplay music coming from the living room abruptly stop. A few objects were heard being moved around until Jungkook’s footsteps once again became louder.

Jungkook said nothing as he closed the door to your bedroom, his weight sinking into the other side of the bed.

Oh, he came back, your mind dumbly said.

It was always familiar, that feeling of Jungkook being too close. You wished it never had to end. Jungkook slid an arm under you and the other caged you in closer to his chest. He dropped a light kiss to the top of your head and picked up where his hands left off— grazing your spine.

“Are you cold?”

You swore you heard Jungkook smile through his words.

“No. The duvet can cover us both, I think.”

“Hmm. I’ll hold you through the night in case the duvet falls.”

Jungkook placed another feathery kiss on your forehead. A few seconds seemed to have passed with nothing but comfortable silence, two hearts beating for one another.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

You felt Jungkook’s hold on you grow tighter.

“Goodnight, ____.”

The morning after was both the easiest and hardest thing you had to face because it was either you woke up to Jungkook still peacefully sleeping beside you or to an already empty bedside.

This time around, Jungkook was already awake and smiling.

Smiling.

You thought it to be so endearing and cruel of him at the same time. Jungkook never watched you sleep before.

Chuckling probably because he saw your wide eyes, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

You shifted before nodding with a small smile. “How about you?”

“Like a baby.”

You chuckled too as he yawned and stretched. You’re so beautiful like this.

“What do you want for breakfast, ___?”

“Do we still have eggs?”

Jungkook nodded, “and bacon, too.”

“Ugh, heaven on earth. I’ll have both, please.”

Jungkook smiled warmly like he was the soft morning light himself, “I’ll whip us some pancakes, too.”

You nodded, yawning a second time. You got up to brush your teeth and do the usual morning skincare routine. As you stared at yourself through the mirror, you thought about how you could feel so content living with Jungkook like this— peaceful with endless possibilities.

You realized your love for Jungkook on a rainy day when both of you were supposed to try and fly the kites you made over Gwangalli beach in Busan. You remember feeling bummed out because Jungkook put so much hard work into making those kites, only to be destroyed by a sudden downpour. You’d expected Jungkook to be upset as well, but to your surprise, Jungkook pulled you into the pouring rain to dance. He always did that. You thought he was crazy for doing so, but you went along with your fifteen-year-old friend’s absurd idea.

It was a good thing you let yourself be pulled into pouring rain by Jeon Jungkook… because from then on, your love for him just grew. Blossomed like the spring flowers on a cool afternoon.

You were pulled out from your memories when you heard a phone ring. You quickly finished combing your hair and went out of the room, feeling hopeful about breakfast.

“...hyeong, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

It was Jungkook speaking to someone on the other end of the line. He had his AirPods on as he waited for the bacon to turn crispy— just the way you liked it. You sat down across from Jungkook on the kitchen counter and he gave you a small smile, even though his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Okay, fine, fine, I’ll go… I’ll see you later.” Jungkook tapped the right AirPod twice, ending the call. You could tell something was off.

“Everything okay?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away as he transferred the bacon onto a plate with paper towels. “Yeah, that was Yoongi hyeong”

“Oh great, are you guys meeting up later?” You tried to make light of the situation, but could already feel the other shoe was about to drop.

You’ve always had that lingering anxiety at the pit of your stomach whenever you were with Jungkook. It co-exists, always present as your love for him. It’s the product of a love unreciprocated.

Jungkook hummed, too concentrated on the eggs in front of him. “Hyeong set me up on a date with someone.”

“Oh…”

Jungkook kept his head down as he cooked, but you didn’t miss how he looked up briefly at you the moment the small surprise left your lips.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Isn’t it? It’s about time you tried dating again.”

The morning was already starting to crumble right before you could even get through breakfast.

“Yeah, I… I think it’d be fun. I’ll see how it goes.”

You have seen Jungkook’s fair share of dating experiences over the course of your friendship. He never brought anyone home to your apartment, but you almost always witnessed how fleeting his dates were. It wasn’t as if Jungkook didn’t like them, it’s just that he prioritized his work more than the possibility of finding love. The last one Jungkook dated was like a tornado in human form. You remembered how happy he always seemed to be after their dates. He’d tell you about how she made him want to come out of his shell more and that maybe, just maybe she could be the one. You were happy for his best friend then, you always were. But you were also heartbroken seeing your childhood love date other people, let alone look at them differently. You had only met the girl once— and you immediately understood why Jungkook liked her. Kind, charming, and passionate about art and life. An advocate for women’s rights, a cat lover.

Everything that you didn’t seem to be.

You don’t know how the relationship ended, though. That’s the thing about Jungkook— with you, he was magic and light, wild and full of compassion, but when it came to sharing his feelings, he always had a hard time expressing them. You are as patient as ever though, never pushing Jungkook to emotional places where he didn’t want to be.

You will always wait for Jungkook. But is it worth it?

“You should really get out of the house, Jungkook. Go and have fun. Your art will be waiting for you here at home,” you tried to smile as Jungkook handed you your breakfast request.

“You sound like you really want me out of the house, ____.” Jungkook teased.

You dramatically sighed, threw in a slight roll of your eyes for good measure, “I just want what’s best for you. You know that.”

“I always know, ____.”

You will always look out for him. Love him from afar. You will always choose your best friend. You could only wish that Jungkook would choose you, too.

You definitely felt like an idiot waiting up for Jungkook.

You liked to tell yourself that Jungkook’s mystery date didn’t bother you at all, but being alone in the apartment on your day off didn’t help much because you thought about the said date all day long.

Here’s the problem: You didn’t know you were so bothered.

Well, you, knew why… in a way. But you didn’t like admitting it to yourself because it becomes so much clearer. Jungkook has always been a constant in your life, a friend through thick and thin-- but that’s the issue. Jungkook is a friend.

You heard faint footsteps becoming louder until someone was punching the code to unlock the door— Jungkook was home. You quickly glanced at the clock. It was only 9 pm. He’s home early, isn’t he? What does coming home early or late from a date even mean ? You shook your head rapidly, willing the ridiculous questions away when the familiar melody of the door successfully unlocking rang through the room, and in came Jungkook. You repositioned yourself at lightning speed, pretended to watch TV, and only looked up when Jungkook came into view.

“Hey. How did your date go?” Your eyes flitted back to the screen in front of you, feigning indifference.

Jungkook plopped next to you on the couch and stretched his legs, “T’was good.”

Turning your body to face Jungkook you asked, “How good is good?”

Jungkook chuckled as he intertwined his fingers behind his neck. He didn’t pry his eyes away from the TV, which was showing a variety show about refrigerators.

“We had dinner. Mia was a nice girl, very polite.”

Ah, so the name was Mia. You slowly nodded before tilting your head to the side, revealing a small smirk, “did you have fun at least?”

“I guess it was alright. You know how awkward blind dates make me feel.”

“What makes them awkward again?”

“I’m not sure exactly… It's like I just don’t know how to act around them, let alone know what to say. It’s— I’m not even sure if she had a good time, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m sure he had a good time,” you turned your attention back to the TV but muted the volume. Why was there a face towel inside one of the refrigerators?

“What makes you so sure, ____?”

You shrugged, “You’re pretty amazing Jungkook. Funny, smart, very attuned to others. I think you just don’t see it because, you know, it’s you.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. The momentary silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Why are you still up, ____?” Jungkook suddenly murmured. He was still facing the TV, but he had his eyes closed.

You suddenly felt a need to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. When you didn’t respond, Jungkook opened his eyes and turned to face you. “Do you need help sleeping, ____?”

“I really shouldn’t ask for too much, Jungkook. It must be uncomfortable not sleeping in your own bed.”

Jungkook gently flicked a finger at your forehead. You feigned hurt.

“Silly. Come on, let’s get ready for bed. It’s getting late and you have an early class tomorrow, right?” You didn’t even know he remembered your schedule. You let Jungkook pull you by the wrist, leading the way to your bedroom.

Like coming home, you slotted yourself comfortably in between Jungkook’s waiting arms as you both lay in bed. Jungkook rested his chin on top of your head and breathed in your soft, powdery scent. You instantly felt Jungkook relax, all tension starting to ebb away, but maybe it was all just in your head.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I just… I don’t know, I have a long day tomorrow and I need to sleep.”

Jungkook adjusted himself in a way to give you some wiggle room but still held you close. “You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand how pressured you must feel, especially because the dance studio is going through big transitions.”

In your mind, you were thinking of all the ways you and Jungkook just clicked . But there’s that tiny part of you that feels that maybe this arrangement wasn’t the most ideal because for all you knew, Mia might just be a really great girl and Jungkook just needed time to warm up to her. Having Jungkook this close was your dream-- a dream you’ve always kept safe in the recesses of your mind. Now that it’s actually happening— and that it’s been happening for a while now— you crave this closeness more and more and yet, you also feel guilty because you needed to run in the opposite direction. Before things got too painful.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Your body went stiff so Jungkook pulled you much closer as he ran a hand through your hair. He looked at you, eyes soft and half-lidded, your faces too close you felt like something else was going to happen.

But nothing ever happened. Of course.

He held your gaze a bit longer and you wanted to tell him the truth. Tell him to look at you just this once. But words failed you once more.

“Thank you, Gguk.”

Not a lot of words need to be exchanged. You have been friends for so long that almost all your movements and emotions, no matter how subtle, were easily discernible. You know when Jungkook is having one of his creative blocks because he becomes irritable. Jungkook knows that you can sometimes be too hard on yourself when it comes to dancing, so he cooks your favorite bibimbap as a way to ease his stress. You and Jungkook just know how to comfort one another.

“My silly darling,” He never called you that before, but you could almost hear Jungkook smile as he uttered it. “I want to be here.”

If your heart suddenly stopped, you hoped Jungkook didn’t notice. I want to be here, he said. With a languid smile on your tired face, you succumbed to the pull of sleep, hoping your dreams about Jungkook would never end.

“You already picked the last movie, ____.”

“Fine, we can watch one of yours.”

Jungkook’s bunny smile reappeared and your heart grew ten times its size. After eating dinner, you both decided to watch a movie. After all, it was a Friday night and neither of you had the energy to spend it outside with other people. You watched as Jungkook flicked through the movie choices until he finally settled on a Marvel movie.

You were already halfway through the movie when the doorbell rang. You and Jungkook looked at each other, both of you surprised because you weren’t expecting anyone at this late hour. As you shrugged your shoulders, Jungkook got up to answer the door.

You decided to pause the movie because you didn’t want Jungkook to miss anything, but doing so made it clear that the sudden visitor was actually Yoongi.

The location of the door wasn’t too far off from where you were sitting. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either, but you couldn’t help but wonder why Jungkook didn't let Yoongi in.

“Mia told me about your date. I don’t understand, Jungkook, you both said you had a great time, so what’s the problem?”

Oh, they were talking about Jungkook’s date. At this hour?

“I don’t know, hyeong. I guess it never occurred to me to call her so quickly after a first date. Did you come all the way here just to ask that?” Jungkook was a fairly mellow person. Almost never irritable with anyone but himself, just very patient even when you could see how other people were already pushing his buttons.

“I think Mia really likes you, Gguk-ah. You should call her. I also came by to bring you back some of your art supples because you left them at the studio yesterday.”

You heard plastic rustling. Jungkook didn’t answer right away, not until his voice lowered, almost sounding like he was pleading.

“Let me think about it, hyeong. Please?”

Yoongi sounded a bit exasperated, “Fine. How’s ____?”

“She’s fine. We were actually watching a movie,” Jungkook was back to his usual tone of voice, but clipper.

“Oh, that’s nice…”

“Would you like to join us? We still have a beer in the fridge, I think.”

“No, I just… I was just about to go home and thought I’d stop by to give you your things because I already had them in the car, but uh— yeah. Maybe some other time.”

It didn’t register with you right away that Jungkook had Mia’s number. Whether Jungkook asked for it or the other way around, they still exchanged numbers. There was a chance of a second date. You didn’t notice the lump forming in your throat as you came to realize again that Jungkook wasn’t yours. You had no right to think this way about Jungkook and his love life. He lives his own life, free to date anyone, anytime.

You weren’t supposed to hear this conversation either. The feeling of impending dread slowly crept up on you. All you knew was that whatever you were feeling right now is something that shouldn’t even be happening.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you saw Jungkook return from the corner of his eye. You suddenly lost all strength to continue the movie. Without even thinking, you pulled yourself up to your feet with the intention of going back to your room. Maybe sleep would do something to dull the ache.

But then you remembered you had a hard time doing that, too.

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You held out hope for a minute there— hope that maybe Jungkook would tell you he was sorry, but then again, what would he be sorry for? He shouldn’t feel sorry for anything, especially not your feelings.

The sadness was starting to fester through your bones again. You had to get out of the living room, away from the one person who could make you feel better. Wordlessly, you let your feet take you to the bedroom and quietly shut the door.

Jungkook never tried to pry nor force you to explain anything to him. He was always the understanding one, always the one who gave you your space when you needed it, even when you were being cold to him.

That’s the thing with Jungkook— he knew exactly when to be there for you. Except for this time around, not even Jungkook’s presence can heal an unknown emptiness that you don’t even recognize yourself.

Nine-year-old you never really liked the first few hours after school because that meant you had to stay and wait until your mom picked you up. School grounds can get pretty lonely, especially when all the other kids have already gone home. Young as you were, you found it funny that both you and your mom ended up closing shop every day— you closing school grounds, while your mom closed the register at the grocery store where she worked.

What nine-year-old you hated the most was when you had to wait after school while it rained because you couldn’t walk around the courtyard and play.

You hugged your knees as you rocked yourself back and forth watching the rain splatter on the cold, hard ground. Of all days, you forgot to bring a jacket and you were starting to shiver. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon. Your mom wouldn’t arrive until six.

Just after you let out a big sigh, a boy came running in your direction carrying an umbrella. Strange. No one but you usually stayed at school this late.

When the boy reached the stairs and closed his umbrella, he shook off excess water from his already wet hair, causing a few droplets to splatter all over your face.

“Oops, sorry about that.”

The boy gave you his widest smile as he continued to catch his breath from running too fast. You usually saw this boy walk along the school hallways, always surrounded by his friends. You were also clubmates in dance.

“My name’s Jungkook. We go to dance club together.”

“I know...” You replied as you rested your chin on top of your knees again.

“You dance really well, I wish I could be as graceful as you… anyway, what are you still doing here?”

“I’m waiting for my mom. She usually picks me up, but she has to finish her job at the store first.”

“Oh, okay. How long do you still have to wait for her?”

“Probably a few more hours,” you didn’t mean for your tone to be somber, but you couldn’t help it.

As much as you love your parents, sometimes it can get quite lonely.

“That might take forever!” Jungkook’s eyes grew wide but you found it amusing. Most people would just say ‘oh’ and move on. Or maybe pity you.

“It’s no big deal, I’m used to it already.”

“Well, do you want to grab something to eat first?”

While you knew Jungkook meant no harm, you still wondered why he was offering all of a sudden. What was he even doing here?

“I don’t think—”

“My driver Mr. Hong-sik is parked right outside near a hotteok stand. Let’s go buy some!”

You hesitated because you weren’t supposed to leave the school grounds until an adult came to pick you up but at the same time, you were really hungry.

“What do you say?”

“Do you promise that we will go back here after buying?”

Jungkook was already nodding, his smile growing wide again upon hearing the possibility of you giving in to the idea of hot hotteok.

“Yes, of course. Mr. Hong-sik will take care of us, don’t worry. Besides—” Jungkook opened his umbrella, droplets of rain splattered across your face again, “—this umbrella is big enough to fit us both.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

It would only be years later when Jungkook admitted to you that he had known for a while how you spent your days alone after school and that he wanted to keep you company.

When you were seventeen and Jungkook fifteen, the school dance team won an award. You both celebrated by eating ramen and ice cream at your mother’s grocery store.

When you and Jungkook went to college, you decided to share a room together because you both got into SNU. Over the years mishaps had happened, you both cringed at each other’s disaster dates, and cried when you had your hearts broken by careless people. Through the highs and lows of life and love, you and Jungkook were a team.

Now that you are twenty-six and Jungkook twenty-four, you continue to conquer the world together.

Except that you never expected to slowly fall for the boy who accidentally splattered water on your face twice and shared his umbrella.

“Yah— stop eating all of the danmuji!” Taehyung playfully snapped as he chewed on his jajangmyeon.

“I already told you to order extra, but of course, you didn’t listen again,” you replied, happily chewing on the kimchi.

“I totally forgot, okay? Let me breathe,” Taehyung pouted. “It’s not every day when little kids come into the studio and wreak havoc during hip hop class.” You chuckled at your best friend’s whining and placed a piece of danmuji on top of his noodles. Taehyung looked to you and mumbled his thanks.

You were sitting with your legs sprawled out on the dance floor of the dance studio. Both of you just finished your separate intensive classes and were fueling up for the next set this afternoon.

“I heard Jungkook went out on a date,” Taehyung isn’t really one for dilly-dallying. Always straight to the point.

“Yoongi told you, huh?”

“Of course. The man could never hide secrets from me. Not in our household.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Jungkook did go on a date,” you didn’t like where the conversation was going, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop Taehyung from asking further either. A part of you wanted to talk about it with someone.

“And how do you feel about that?” Taehyung shoved a piece of kimchi onto his mouth and waited for your answer.

You started to re-arrange the toppings on your plate, trying to avoid eye contact all of a sudden, “what do you mean?”

“I know you, ____. You can’t hide from me.”

You chuckled at your best friend’s blunt nature. It’s one of the things you liked most about him because you were the opposite— always caring, understanding, nice. You put others first before yourself because that’s who you are— the reliable friend. You know Taehyung means well and is just looking out for you, too.

“Do I have to answer your question?”

“You don’t have to, but I can tell it’s bothering you. You didn’t even notice that I took the last piece of chicken just now—”

“YAH!”

Taehyung snickered, “But seriously, you’re quiet than usual. Does he still help you sleep?”

“He does.”

“And he hasn’t said anything beyond that?”

“What is he supposed to say?”

Taehyung shrugged, “You tell me.”

“We’re friends, Taehyung. There’s nothing else to say” You let your shoulders sag. You’re surprised at yourself that you’ve been holding the tension in.

“After everything—” Taehyung paused and bit his bottom lip, trying to carefully choose what to say next, “Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason why he volunteers to help you sleep is that he likes you too?”

“Stop putting ideas into my head.”

“I’m not, but I do want to point out what you can’t see, ____. I’m your best friend— Jungkook is, too, but with us it’s different. I don’t feel the urge to jump you every so often, ah!---” Taehyung earned a playful smack from you, “Look, all I’m saying is… you and Jungkook have been friends for a really long time so why don’t you just talk to him?”

You started to argue, “It’s not that easy. It might ruin our friendship.”

“But how else are you going to get past this?”

“Take my feelings to the grave,” you expressed glumly.

“So dramatic. And very, very difficult for you to bear all on your own.”

“I’m scared, Taehyung. What if things become awkward?”

“Will Jungkook really let it come to that? He’s your best friend. If he says he doesn’t feel the same way, the more important thing here is you. You and your heart— because at least in knowing, you can finally move forward. Date other people without the what ifs.”

You seemed to mull over Taehyung’s words.

“I’m not forcing you to ask him. At the end of the day, you get to decide. I just want you to be happy, ____. Always.”

“I know, Taehyung-ie. Thank you.”

You came home that night to Jungkook passed out from exhaustion on their couch. He still had his eyeglasses on, his apple pencil caught in between his fingers. His iPad was on top of the coffee table and you assumed that Jungkook rushed yet again another commission for a client. It was still early— 8 o’ clock. You wondered if Jungkook had already eaten. You draped a blanket over him and adjusted his head on one of the pillows into a more comfortable position. The movement slightly jostled Jungkook awake. With half-lidded eyes, he gave you a sleepy smile.

“Hi ____, you’re home.”

“Hmm, I am.”

“How was class today?”

“Excellent. Did you get to finish that commission?”

Jungkook yawned, “Barely... ”

You reluctantly caressed Jungkook hair, fingers gently rubbing his scalp. As soon as you did, his eyes fell closed.

“Have you eaten, Gguk-ah?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to. What if I came home really late? You can’t miss your meals.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

You chuckled as he mumbled, “Brat. I’ll whip us up some kimchi kimbap and ramen. How does that sound?”

“I’d love that, thank you.”

“You can sleep more. I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”

“I can help you—”

“Stay put. I’ll be quick, okay?”

Jungkook nodded as he watched you disappear into the kitchen. You prepared all the supplies needed to make dinner and as soon as you started chopping the kimchi for the kimbap, you heard Jungkook’s soft snores.

Suddenly, all of your fears ebbed away. Emotions were a funny thing— the fondness you had for Jungkook overtook your whole being everytime you looked at him. Sometimes you want to feel angry at how Jungkook seemed oblivious, but then again… he isn’t really a mind-reader. You have always been affectionate with each other and you wondered where people drew the line between friendship and love. What happens when one catches feelings? What happens to both of you if a confession was the way to settle things once and for all? The stakes were too high— confessing your feelings for Jungkook might make him pull away. What happens to the friendship built over the years? If you were lucky, maybe Jungkook might love you, too.

You were in a bind and you didn’t like that.

Jungkook slept on the living room couch, tired from the day’s work. You both make meals for each other. You sleep together on the same bed. Shouldn’t life with Jungkook be this easy?

And obvious?

After twenty minutes, dinner was ready. You woke Jungkook up and he devoured the simple dinner over stories of your classes and his ideas for the client’s project.

This friendship is simple. Light. It is a life well lived between two childhood friends that began with a shared an umbrella and hotteok. You wished it was always this uncomplicated.

Jungkook helped you sleep again that night. Not a lot of words were shared because you were honestly exhausted and just when you thought you didn’t need cuddles, Jungkook went into your room and laid on your bed, not uttering a single word. He only wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your cotton scent.

“You’re always helping me, Jungkook.”

“Is it working? Are you sleeping well?”

“I am, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad. I’m really glad, ____.”

All is right in this world, all is well with us this way, you thought before you gave in to the pull of sleep for another night.

You woke up to the sunlight and an empty bed. Muffled sounds could be heard from outside the bedroom.

“Mia’s kind of annoyed that she gave you his number but you still haven’t called her”

“I know.”

“Is this about ____? Is that why you haven’t—”

“I don’t know, hyeong, it’s too early to have this conversation.”

Yoongi came into view as soon as you reached the kitchen. His back was turned to you and it seemed like he was cooking pancakes. Jungkook was sitting on the stool by the counter and had his back to you.

“Oh, good morning, ____,” Yoongi chimed.

“Good morning.”

Jungkook poured you a glass of orange juice, “Slept well?”

You didn’t have your words yet so you just nodded. Even with Yoongi busy with the stove, you felt the tension that made itself known so suddenly around the kitchen.

And for some reason, Jungkook decided to throw out the trash, leaving you and Yoongi alone for a while.

“How are you, ____” Yoongi asked as he gave you a serving of pancakes, egg, and bacon. The last thing you expected was to wake up to breakfast prepared by a visitor sprinkled with passive confrontation.

You sipped his orange juice again before replying, “I’m doing well. Dance classes are picking up.”

“I’m glad… and Jungkook?”

“What do you mean?”

“How is Jungkook… and you?”

It was way too early for this conversation.

“I need you to be a bit more specific about what you really want to ask me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi was met with an almost deafening silence. You knew that apart from him, Jungkook confided in Yoongi the most. He knew most of Jungkook’s dating escapades and with that, his heart aches too. Yoongi is Jungkook’s fiercest protector, you are well-aware. You understand how he tends to be confrontational especially when it came to Jungkook’s feelings.

Because they go way back.

In all honesty, you were terrified of Yoongi knowing about how Jungkook had been helping you sleep, but you didn’t know why you were scared. Yoongi is your friend too, after all.

Maybe because you wanted to keep such intimate moments with Jungkook for yourself. Something that was yours, and yours alone. Unfortunately, you had a gut feeling Yoongi knows a lot more than he’s letting on.

“Jungkook just started dating again, ____.”

“I’m all too aware. I don’t think I’m going to be a problem.”

“It might be if Jungkook helps you sleep every night.”

And there it is.

“We’re just friends, Yoongi. I’m not expecting anything from him.” You felt your heart sink to your feet, trampled on. Yoongi knew.

But why was frustration rising up in the back of your throat?

“Are you sure you’re not expecting anything?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Tension, tension, tension. You hated it.

“You had your chance once, ____, and you walked away. It’s not fair for you to do this to Jungkook again.”

And there it is. The word again .

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lightly tapping the glass of juice with your fingers, willing for the tears to retreat back to where they came from. You cannot afford to cry in front of Yoongi. Or Jungkook. It was too goddamn early.

You did not sign up to have your memories, your insecurities, and your reality laid bare on the kitchen counter.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. Jungkook is my friend. He always will be.”

Vulnerability wasn’t your strongest suit. You weren't your emotions’ best soldier, either. You wanted to yell at Yoongi, shout at him for even implying that you were getting in the way of Jungkook and his dating life.

“Jungkook cannot date freely if he always has to think about coming home to help you sleep,” Yoongi’s words cut like a knife, making you wince. “You know he deserves better than that. You deserve better than that.”

You have very blunt and straightforward friends, and although they keep you grounded, sometimes you hate how they can casually talk to you about your feelings. Sometimes you think they forget that your sunny disposition can also be sometimes moored by rain and storms.

“I’m sorry, ____. That was too much, I—”

“No, Yoongi, it’s okay,” tears have already fallen and you hastily wiped them away, “You’re right, it was my fault. I’m the one who got us into this mess. I’m the one who has the sleeping problem, I’ll— I’ll figure something out, maybe get checked or something…” You kept your eyes glued to the untouched food in front of you. Throat burning, fresh tears threatening to fall once more.

Yoongi’s words stung— but he’s also right. The pain of the unspoken truth you try so hard to push down every day come rising to the surface and you are powerless to stop it.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it the moment he looked over your shoulder. Your stomach churned because your worst fears weren’t done with you yet— Jungkook was standing by the door.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Yoongi hyeong.” The only time you heard apparent hostility in Jungkook’s voice was years ago when someone attempted to jump you at a party. Jungkook is always kind, but when irritation, let alone animosity, takes over, he becomes a completely different person.

All you knew was that Jungkook and his girlfriend in tornado form are over.

The music blaring from the speakers were too loud, everyone was all over the place— Jungkook, Yoongi, Taehyung. It was Jungkook’s idea to get wasted at a club. You didn’t always agree with Jungkook’s coping mechanisms, because you knew he was a terrible drinker— someone who couldn’t hold his liquor well.

But he was heartbroken and what do good friends do? Let them cry and wallow.

But right now, it was time to go home. You called a cab for Yoongi and Taehyung, while you and Jungkook got into another. It was a good decision that you didn’t bring your own car. You wouldn’t have any other choice but to drag Jungkook’s drunk ass to the passenger seat and you weren’t sure you could manage that.

You were thankful that Jungkook could still manage to walk, even if he needed to be physically supported by you. You both fumbled for a bit as you closed your apartment door behind you.

“Alright, you big baby, take off your shoes.”

Jungkook did as he was told, but you could tell his body was about to give up on him so you hastily walked him to the bedroom.

You heaved a big sigh after Jungkook collapsed into the mattress. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing slowly steady itself and you honestly thought he was asleep.

“Are you dead?”

When Jungkook didn’t move, a playful smirk painted your lips and you shook your head. You leaned in closer to fluff Jungkook’s pillow, when his head suddenly turned to face you.

With eyes half-lidded, you thought Jungkook looked beautiful underneath the sliver of moonlight shining through the bedroom window. He reeked of alcohol and smoke, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t help but hold his gaze.

Hesitant fingers reached up to trace the skin on your cheek. Jungkook blinked once as he ran gently ran his fingers from the corner of your eye to your chin.

Jungkook’s voice was so soft, you almost didn't hear him ask, “Why don’t you like me, ____?”

“What are you talking about, of course I like you.”

Jungkook shook his head, “That’s not what I meant…”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. You reminded yourself that Jungkook was intoxicated. He wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. He might not even know what he is doing or saying right now.

“Why can’t you love me, ____?” Jungkook swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “because I have loved you for so long and you won’t even look at me.”

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t exactly know why, “That’s not true, Jungkook.”

“Then prove it, ____.”

“I don’t know how.”

Jungkook, in a way, helped you. With eyes focused on your lips, he slowly lifted his head to graze your mouth with his own. When he finally kissed you, your head was spinning that you had to use your arm for support to keep you up.

Jungkook mustered up all of his remaining strength to sit up on the bed to kiss you properly. He cupped your face with his hand and you did the same. Under the same moonlight, you and Jungkook started to take that one step closer to finally acknowledging what has been there all along.

But in your head, you didn’t know what you want.

Lips separated, letting the both of you breathe. Jungkook touched his forehead against yours before his lips planted a light, lingering kiss there.

Your heart sank even deeper and you fought the tears that were about to come.

Because even though you really loved Jungkook, you and he were at the right place at the wrong time.

The next morning, you and Jungkook weren’t the type to dance around each other. He did remember what happened last night.

“I need to know, ____. I need to know what you want.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nodded, but you didn’t miss the flash of sadness that passed through his once hopeful eyes.

“Are we still friends at least?”

It took all of you to nod your head in agreement. It was better this way.

“Of course we are.”

“Then that’s all I want, ____.”

Just as Yoongi closed the door behind him and it was just you and Jungkook in the now tense atmosphere of the apartment, confusion flooded you. Dread soon followed upon realizing what had just happened.

You were holding Jungkook back and it’s all your fault. All because you still couldn’t decide what you really want.

When Jungkook finally locked eyes with you, his gentle gaze made your heart flutter. You don’t deserve it, you thought. But you were allured by it-- so easy to get lost in the sea of Jungkook’s beautiful, observant brown eyes, like they were meant to see right through you, heart and soul. Your face slowly morphed into a pain Jungkook didn’t recognize, a sadness he hasn’t seen before. Your bottom lip began to quiver and before you knew it, you full-on sobbed into your hands. Just as quickly as the collapse of everything began, Jungkook was swift on his feet, taking you into his arms.

Jungkook embraces you tightly, his breathing controlled in an effort to curb your sobs. You could hear Jungkook’s heartbeat and it was an odd source of comfort despite the distress you were actively feeling. You felt Jungkook’s large hand stroke your hair in slow motion, chin resting on top of your head as if trying to silently tell you don’t cry.

Being with Jungkook felt like drowning and coming up for air all at the same time— your constant, but also your poison. Yoongi was right, Jungkook deserves to be happy after you blew your chance to tell him how you really felt.

You loved Jungkook, but you had to let him go because he doesn’t deserve to be with someone who cannot make up her mind. When you said no to him a year ago, you thought it was the best for the both of you— Jungkook was hurting and he kissed you because he was drunk and in pain. Not because he loves you. You thought that maybe after some time had passed, what happened that night would just be a distant memory between two friends who had a momentary lapse of judgment.

You have to let him go because it’s the right thing to do, the only way to save the friendship you built over the years. You once saved it, you cannot mess up again. It was selfish, yet so selfless.

When you finally calmed down a little bit more and your breathing slowed, Jungkook loosened his grip. You immediately felt the distance once more, but it was as if Jungkook heard your thoughts because he only pulled away to wipe your tears with his thumbs. Jungkook’s hands cupped your face for a while longer, staring into your teary eyes. Jungkook mumbled an apology as he pressed his forehead with yours. As he closed his eyes, you received a glimpse of Jungkook’s sadness without words.

Loving Jungkook isn’t supposed to be painful.

Jungkook had to meet a new client so that meant he needed to leave the apartment. You could tell it was difficult for him to leave you all alone in the apartment, but Jungkook only asked if you were going to be okay.

You struggled to leave home that day, but you had to because if you didn’t get out and teach dance, you would continue to drown in your own suffering. You both left the apartment with nothing but your unspoken words and broken hearts.

Jungkook would find himself running late for his meeting and he arrived home to what he thought was a dark, empty apartment. Trodding down the hall to your room, he was mildly surprised to see the door was slightly ajar. Lying on the bed was you. Sleeping.

Jungkook quietly entered the room and knelt down by the side of the bed. Staring at you, with the moonlight shining down on your face, you looked serene— a stark contrast to the chaos that transpired earlier that day. Your lips were slightly parted and Jungkook found himself smiling at the sight. He gently ran his knuckles down your cheek. He did that for a while, just intentionally watching and helping you sleep even more peacefully in the gentlest way. Jungkook was thankful that you didn’t seem to be aware that you weren't alone.

You kept your eyes closed as you reveled in the softness of Jungkook’s touch. You initially thought you were dreaming of Jungkook kneeling beside you because after all, the sleep gummies seemed to knock you out enough to fall asleep without him this time. But you realized it wasn’t a dream.

Jungkook came home.

The ache in your heart returned, but at the same time, you wished this moment of Jungkook comforting you never ended. Because at least you could have Jungkook like this.

“Will you stay still, ____? I’m not done yet.”

You pouted as you watched Jungkook draw a bowl of ramen on your leg cast. You injured yourself while attempting to do a tourner for an after-school ballet class. You and Jungkook were now in university and renting an apartment together. Your leg rested on Jungkook’s lap while you both sat on the living room couch. Jungkook slightly had his tongue out while he colored in the ribbons and you scoffed.

“Are you done now?”

“You don’t rush art.”

“Yeah but I’m hungry and I think my leg is asleep.”

Jungkook smirked, “Your leg being in a cast doesn’t really have a choice given the circumstances, what did you expect?” You smacked him with a pillow, “You asshole, give me my leg back.”

“Ow! Nuh uh. I’m almost done.”

You huffed, feigning annoyance. But you were actually endeared with Jungkook’s enthusiasm to draw a different object on your leg cast every week. The moment you got out of the hospital and after Jungkook fed you some jjampong, he carried you to the same living room couch and drew the yellow umbrella he used the day you bought hotteok. The following week, it was a sketch of a person dancing ballet which Jungkook referred to as, “the loveliest ballet dancer in the universe.” This week, it was ballet shoes hanging on one side of the backrest of a chair.

“There, done!” Jungkook slightly pulled away to admire his work then he turned and gave you his dorkiest smile. You could never ask for more.

Weeks passed as you and Jungkook fell into usual routine. You can no longer recall since when you started having a hard time communicating feelings. It wasn’t like you and Jungkook fought a lot because you almost never do. But there’s always that elephant in the room that neither of you choose to address even though it’s already staring back at you both.

On Jungkook’s birthday, Taehyung decided it would be good for you all to spend your time at a club after having dinner. From the get-go, the people in attendance were the birthday boy, Taehyung, Yoongi, you, and Mia.

Needless to say, you were awkward and in pain the entire time.

It was your first time to actually see Jungkook pay attention to someone else in a romantic way. Although he and Mia have yet to put a label on anything, they continued to date, much to your misery.

At the birthday dinner, you tried your best not to look at Jungkook and Mia the whole time, but by some strange magnetic force, everytime you unconsciously looked at Jungkook, his eyes found you.

Come to think of it, Mia was the clingy one the whole night. But maybe you were just misinterpreting things. When Taehyung suggested they go to a club, you internally groaned. Not only was this a repeat performance of what you did wrong a year ago, but it was also like salt being rubbed on a wound that never completely healed well.

“Fuck it, let’s get wasted,” you thought. You weren’t about to let your misery ruin a fun night.

So much for that, though. You couldn’t even pay attention to your drink because Mia was already trying to get too close to Jungkook. The whole time, Jungkook’s expressions were unreadable. One of his many stupid traits, you sarcastically thought.

You don't know exactly what happened after— Jungkook went to the bar to order more drinks for the table, followed not too long by Mia. She was relentless in flirting with Jungkook who seemed stoic and indifferent and awkward. Mia must have been really bad at reading people. Still, she didn’t give up that easily because she dragged Jungkook to the middle of the dance floor and tried to get him to dance.

Maybe you just wanted to see what you wanted to, but if you really were in the right frame of mind, you swore you saw Jungkook finally give in and dance with her.

Jungkook was having fun with someone else on his birthday. This is what he deserves— to be happy and free. Jungkook doesn’t have to sacrifice his time just to help you sleep every night.

You felt like you were about to throw up. The room started spinning and suddenly all you could hear were muffled sounds of the music bass. Before you knew it, you were making your way to the exit. You needed to get out. You faintly heard Taehyung calling out to you, asking what was wrong but the tightness in your chest demanded much of your attention.

When you reached the exit, you pushed the door all the way with all your might and started to walk. You were relieved for once that you weren’t able to drink a drop because you needed a clear head to get home safely. The club was a short distance from the apartment and all you wanted to do was lie in bed and cry yourself to sleep.

It has been weeks. Weeks of skirting around Jungkook, acting like nothing was amiss. It worked for a while, but you knew it would backfire eventually.

You didn’t think this plan of ignoring feelings would fail you so soon. You thought you were stronger.

Your hands were shaking so badly that you struggled to enter the correct passcode to the door: 090197.

You cursed at the irony.

Not bothering to turn on the lights, you stumbled in the dark and took off your heels. You went straight to your room and collapsed on the bed. You let the tears stain his pillow. This isn’t new to you now— crying. It somehow helped you sleep, anyway. Right now, you don't care if you cried your eyes raw. You were hurt, in pain, and you didn’t know what to do.

Nights felt like an eternity for an insomniac like you. Your thoughts were your biggest enemy in the dead of night and most of the time you are powerless to control them. You shouldn’t have allowed Jungkook to help you in the first place. Otherwise, you wouldn’t find yourself in this predicament. You’ve already kept your distance before, why did you fail again now? You should’ve known your place, the order in this world. You were Jungkook’s best friend, and you decided that for the both of you that day you told him you were sorry.

Ruminating thoughts can be a bitch because it makes you oblivious to your surroundings in real time.

You suddenly felt the other side of the bed dip. You heard sheets rustle and felt a different kind of warmth-- the kind that only your best friend could give.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your scent. In the silence of your room, Jungkook, once again, came home to you.

Both of you didn’t speak for a long while, just listening to each other’s rhythm. You felt your bottom lip quiver— you were on the verge of crying again and as you started to sit up and perhaps leave, you felt Jungkook tighten his grip as he clasped his fingers together, securing you in place.

“Please don’t cry.”

You swallowed and tried to reply, but your voice cracked instead, “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“I want to stay here with you.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then why?”

“Like I said, I want to stay here with you.”

Like wildfire, your heart swelled even when your brain told you not to fall for Jungkook’s words. That you were only reading too much into things, “What about—”

“I told them I wanted to go home because you already did. I turned around to look for you because I heard the barista said there were french fries, but you weren’t at the table anymore.”

Tears started to stream down your face and you were grateful you weren't facing Jungkook.

“I hate being the reason why you always cry, ____. I have done absolutely nothing to make things better for you and I keep making you feel sad.” Jungkook’s voice was laced with tight emotion and it was something you were hearing for the first time. Jungkook buried himself deeper in the crook of your neck.

“It hurts so much, Jungkook.”

Lifting his head, Jungkook moved in closer to whisper in your ear, “I know. I know. I’m so sorry.”

You breathed a deep sigh as you willed away the tears. Right on cue, Jungkook gently turned your body to face him. “That’s better,” Jungkook gently smiled, pushing strands of hair away from your face.

With Jungkook’s right arm under your head and his left engulfing you in an embrace, you curled into Jungkook’s chest. No matter what pain you may be feeling, it all dissipates once you’re with Jungkook.

“I am so sorry, ____. I’m sorry I keep running away.”

You let a small smile take over his lips, “No, Jungkook. You don’t have to apologize. All of this is my fault”

“It’s not… it’s not your fault. It’s mine,” you saw Jungkook swallow. You looked over Jungkook’s shoulder, at the clock situated on top of the side table. Thirty minutes left until Jungkook's birthday ends.

“It’s still your birthday. You shouldn’t be spending it apologizing for something you didn’t do.”

“I am enjoying my birthday because I haven’t lost you yet. And it is my fault, stop fighting me.” Jungkook smiled. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? Especially under moonlit skies.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet.”

“Then allow me to tell you now. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful person inside out and I am so lucky to have you. Thank you for not leaving me.”

You scooted closer to Jungkook, trying to fill in all the spaces in between.

It was almost a whisper and you almost didn’t hear it, “Sleep well my silly, beautiful darling,” your eyes flutter close as you felt Jungkook give you a kiss on your temple— a reassuring one, this time.

“Hey.”

You jumped at the sound of Jungkook’s unusually low voice. “Shit,” you mumbled, earning a pretty smile from Jungkook. “How long have you been standing there?”

The smile didn’t leave Jungkook’s face as he apologized and said with all honesty, “A while.”

You have been spending more late nights in the studio since you and Taehyung started offering additional classes. You held a beginner’s ballet class for children after school hours and you felt you had to spend more time thinking about their routines. Kids need structure, lest their attention becomes too difficult to get a hold of. Jungkook, being the sweetest, always stayed up to wait for you to get home and eat dinner together.

This time around, Jungkook decided to pick you up from the studio.

You took in the sight of Jungkook who was leaning against the door frame, wearing a cream oversized sweater and white pants. Even in the dimly lit room, Jungkook’s handsome face was radiant.

Seeing him feels like coming home.

Jungkook walked up to you with his hands in his pockets, “I always get caught up in your world whenever I watch you dance. That hasn’t changed.” He was suddenly standing so close to you that you had to clear his throat. Yet you didn’t pull away, either.

“Time passes when that world is not working in my favor,” you said as you rolled your shoulders backward.

“Is this the ballet class for the kids?”

You hummed in response, “One would think it’s easy enough to make a routine for little kids when really, going back to basics sometimes is the hardest thing.”

“What did you use to tell me?” Jungkook asked warmly, all innocence and love, but you recognized that tone of his.

“Jungkook—”

“Help me remember, ____. How did we do it back then? When we couldn’t figure out a new routine,” you heard the heels of Jungkook’s white chelsea boots clatter against the wooden floor as he stepped away a bit from you.

You were taken back to your days in the dance club with Jungkook, the two of you in a smaller studio after school practicing for competitions. You and Jungkook were the group’s best dancers and that also meant you were almost always tasked to come up with new choreography. You recalled how you and Jungkook used to practice no matter how long it took.

Right now, at this very moment, as Jungkook gently urges you to remind you of those days, you appreciated what he was trying to do.

“I’d always tell you, ‘I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore,’”

“Hm, and how did I respond?” Jungkook’s eyes never left your face and his voice was so low, that it sent shivers up your spine.

“You’d tell me we didn’t have to do the things other people ask us to dance… not right now.” you breathed as Jungkook’s face inched closer to yours, so close that you could already hear Jungkook’s heartbeat.

“And then?”

“We’d dance. For ourselves, together.”

Just as the words escaped your lips, Jungkook slightly pulled away to take his phone out of his pocket, scroll through a playlist, the very same playlist Jungkook uses whenever you both lounge around on a Sunday morning. He found the song he was looking for and pressed play.

Jungkook put his phone back in his pocket and whispered, “We dance. For ourselves, together.” He wrapped an arm around your waist while his other hand trailed down to hold your own, intertwining both sets of fingers. Falling, you easily melted into Jungkook, your worries about the ballet routines already forgotten.

With bodies pressed close, you felt your heart plummet to a deep dive into your stomach, leaving butterflies as it burst into a million pretty pieces. Jungkook was never one for sweet words, always choosing to convey his thoughts and feelings through his art. He had given you plenty of his work over the years, drawn on crumpled tissue papers or on the back of receipts. Always in all honesty quietly telling you he was there for you no matter what.

And through dance, he was the same— loving, thoughtful, yours.

“It has been a while since you last danced, right?”

Jungkook leans his forehead into yours, his eyes focused on the floor. He hums his response as he starts to lead the dance.

“It has been a while since I last danced with you,” Jungkook whispered. “Dance with me so I remember, my love.”

You close your eyes, resting your chin on Jungkook’s shoulder, “Remember what, Jungkook?”

“Help me remember everything good about you and me.”

And although Jungkook couldn’t see it, you smile as you tilt your head to the side. You let Jungkook lead the both of you to the melody of the music for a good few minutes until you fell into a slow, swaying rhythm.

“I missed dancing with you like this,” you swore you felt Jungkook tighten his hold around your middle a little bit more. Jungkook dropped a kiss to your bare shoulder and said with all reverence, “I miss you, ____.”

He misses you, not missed. You never wanted to let him go.

You didn’t want to stop touching Jungkook so as you continued to allow your feet to be led by him, you ran a trail using your hand from Jungkook’s shoulders, landing on his chest. Jungkook ran his own hand at the expanse of your back, waiting, waiting.

“And I miss you too,” you said with a smile. Jungkook cupped your face and ran a thumb to your cheekbone. Never leaving your eyes, he responded, “It’s always a pleasure to dance with you, ____.”

“I always seem more eager to dance when I’m with you,” you said.

And I always love dancing with you.

“That’s because we know each other’s moves well. We’re in sync no matter how long it’s been.”

Tentatively, you respond, “Maybe we should do it again… more often, this time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’ll dance with you forever.”

You and Jungkook went home that night and slept once more in each other’s arms. You noticed a change this time. You felt peaceful, more hopeful. Jungkook didn’t say anything definitive, still, but maybe his heart did.

And you fell into a quiet sleep as soon as Jungkook kissed your temple. This time, his kiss was more intentional, more heartfelt, like he never wants to let you go.

Not again.

You woke up the next morning still reeling from the dance you shared with Jungkook. Always the romantic, you thought as you shook your head. Usually, Jungkook was already up and about before you even opened one eye, but life continues to surprise you.

Jungkook was sitting on the bed, drawing on his iPad. You couldn’t believe it at first— you rubbed sleep out of your eyes and looked at your own phone for the time. It was 8 o’clock and Jungkook was drawing.

The minute you moved, Jungkook was attentive. He stopped drawing as he turned to you to mumble a good morning.

“Good morning to you, too. What are you doing so early in the morning?”

“Oh, I woke up earlier—”

Cutting him off, you teased, “You always do.”

Jungkook chuckled, the crinkles in around his eyes so evident, so endearing, “Yeah. Um… I just— the morning light through the window was just so beautiful and I had to draw it.”

“You drew a sunrise at 8 o’clock?”

You rolled your eyes as Jungkook said matter-of-factly, “Actually, 6 o’clock… but no, I didn’t draw the sunrise, not exactly.”

“Then what did you draw?”

Instead of responding, Jungkook gave you his iPad. You realized Jungkook drew you. Jungkook used digital watercolor brushes to paint a picture of you sleeping with your bedroom window behind you. Sunlight accentuated the side of your face, expression tranquil.

“It’s not finished yet, I need to fill in some of the—“

“It’s beautiful, Jungkook.”

“You always say that, ____.”

“Because your works are beautiful. Every single one of them,” you couldn’t stop admiring Jungkook’s work. You felt your throat constrict once more, emotions starting to take over. This isn’t the first time Jungkook drew you, but it’s definitely the first time you felt something different after seeing his art— a love that continues to blossom, a love for Jungkook that never withered. For the past few weeks, you felt like you were slowly coming to terms with you and him being just best friends, but after last night, you were starting to backslide.

You will always love Jungkook no matter what— you know that now. Maybe not in the way you want, but Jungkook will continue to have a special hold on your heart that no one else can replace.

“Thank you for this, Gguk-ah. Can we print and frame this? When you’re done, that is.”

“Of course, ____. I’m glad you like it.”

One of the things you and Jungkook appreciate about the apartment is the silence because it’s never an awkward one. In silence, you’re both comfortable— awkward and pain and everything else in between. In the shared space, you and Jungkook are free to love one another.

In silence, you also hear each other’s hunger. You giggled as Jungkook turned beet red. After all these years of living together, Jungkook still tended to be embarrassed around you. One of the many adorable Jeon Jungkook traits that you love.

“That’s my cue to make breakfast.”

You stood up and ran a hand through your hair before pocketing your phone. Jungkook didn’t move an inch. You didn’t think much of it, but just as you were about to walk out the door, Jungkook called out to you and scrambled to his feet.

Mornings with Jungkook more often than not are calm, but when you saw Jungkook walk up the short distance to where you were standing, his gaze so strong, your heart began to race. Because you were standing too close to each other, you felt Jungkook take a deep breath before uttering the words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“Don’t leave me.”

At first, you thought you heard wrong. A few seconds later your brain told you that maybe it was Jungkook’s way of saying that he wanted you both to stay in bed a little while longer because after all, it was a Sunday.

But then a third thought came to you, the most dreaded one— what if?

“S-say that again.”

It was physically impossible for Jungkook to get even closer to you. The wide smile drawn on his face made all the difference.

“Don’t leave me.”

Like a bucket of cold water doused on you, you couldn’t believe what Jungkook was really trying to tell you. Your childhood best friend, the man of your dreams. The one person who will move mountains for you without being asked is trying to tell you something you longed to hear.

“Say that again… o-one more time.”

Tears threatened to flow from your sparkling eyes and Jungkook was quick to hold you small face in his hands, “____. Please… don’t ever leave me.”

You struggled not to cry so much upon finally understanding what Jungkook was really trying to say. You wanted to respond to Jungkook’s plea, but all that came out was a sob. Jungkook peppered your face with soft kisses down to your jaw. You found yourself holding on to Jungkook, grip like a vice. You don't want to let him go. You will never.

Not again.

You tried your best to properly respond this time, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I will never, ever leave you.” You ran your knuckles down Jungkook’s face, “I was just going to make us breakfast because you’re hungry.”

Jungkook laughed at how you could still manage to make an intimate moment so endearing. He held your wrist and kissed the palm of your hand before leaning in to finally kiss you full on your lips. His kiss was tentative at first until he decided to be bolder, silently asking you to let him in. You readily gave Jungkook access to kiss you even deeper. Like wildfire, heat spreads throughout your body— this is what it feels like to kiss Jungkook without reservation. This is what it feels like to kiss your best friend, no holds barred.

Overwhelmed with affection, you felt yourself being lifted by Jungkook and your legs automatically cling to his waist. The position gave him an even better angle to kiss the person he has longed for almost all his life, “How long, Jungkook? How long have you really liked me?”

You didn’t think Jungkook would immediately understand what you were trying to ask, “Since that day I asked you to dance with me under the rain.”

Jungkook saw the look of recognition in your eyes. He knew you knew what he was referring to. “I have always been in love with you, ____. I just… I was so scared of you rejecting me that I thought it was best if I kept my feelings to myself. I tried dating other people because I thought maybe that would help me get to know others better.”

And as if Jungkook could read your mind, he kissed your forehead before talking again.

“I don’t regret kissing you that night… I was drunk, but I was sober enough to know and remember what I said. We broke up because she told me I was always distracted. I always thought of you everywhere we went. She told me I never really moved on… that I still call out your name even when I was with someone else. When you told me no then, I knew it was my fault for not thinking things through. It was my mistake that I didn’t communicate with you better, ____. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a lot of words to respond with, not after that speech from Jungkook so you only asked ever so meekly, “And Mia?”

“I told her we were better off as friends. She took it quite well than I expected. I think deep down, she knew too.”

“Knew what?”

“That I was undeniably, irrevocably in love with you.”

“Do you really have to use big adjectives?”

Jungkook shrugged and chuckled, “Makes for good conversation. I’m trying to communicate better, remember?”

It was your turn to chuckle and lean your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, ____. I put you through so much pain and I just let it happen.”

You shook your head, wanting to let Jungkook know this wasn’t all on him.

“If anything, you have always made me so happy, Jungkook. I don’t get to show you how much all the time.”

“Can we start over?” Jungkook looked at you, full of hope.

“I would love that.”

“I love you, ____.”

My best friend in this entire world, whom I love.

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

My best friend in this entire world, who loves me back.

Your hotteok was already paid for by Jungkook before you even had the chance to pay for it yourself. “It’s all taken care of,” Jungkook said.

Both of you were already hungry from running so you decided to eat right there under the hotteok stand. You could see a black car parked across the street and assumed that it must be Mr. Hong-sik. You both ate in silence for a while, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain until you felt Jungkook tugging your sleeve.

“What’s wrong?”

“Come on, ____”

“Where are we going?”

“There!”

You looked to where Jungkook was pointing with his finger. There was nothing there but the school.

“You want to go back to where we came from?”

“Not really. School is boring,” Jungkook mused and before you knew it, you were being pulled in the middle of pouring rain.

“What are you doing, Jungkook? We are going to get wet!”

“We already are, ____! Come on!”

You both had to shout over the steady noise of the rain. You realized Jungkook wasn’t kidding— he was really under the rain, in the middle of the school’s wide, open space, waiting for you to join him.

“You are insane, Jeon Jungkook!” you shouted, but he just grinned that much harder. He took both your hands and led you to jump and dance in the rain.

“Maybe I am, but it’s fun to dance in the rain with someone else!”

You felt so glad to be living the same time with someone as Jungkook after that day.

The day you will forever be grateful for.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #bts au #mwillow: perhaps love #bts fanfiction

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darkcircles4lyfe · 4 years ago

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Death to All Might, Rebirth to Yagi Toshinori

So about All Might. I’ve been extremely wary of talking about what could happen to him because straight up saying “I don’t think he’s gonna die” is asking the universe to spite me. Plus it also feels like a room full of people turning to stare at me as if I said the Sun isn’t a star. Man has death flags everywhere, I know.

But, okay, *Bill Nye voice* consider the following:

Mr. Yagi here, if he overheard everything, just received the final nail in the coffin on his career. His time as the symbol of peace is not only over, it was in fact partially responsible for the current state of things, since he once did so much on his own that his absence now makes heroes and civilians alike ill-prepared to cope. I think it was very apt for that one guy to be wearing an All Might shirt--he was acting as a mouthpiece for the latent societal problems embedded in All Might’s legacy.

We know already that he’s been feeling useless. I love this scene and although I’m not gonna talk about it right this second, remember what Aizawa says about just “being here” being enough:

And we know from conversations with Inko that Toshinori is also reframed his purpose around looking after Izuku. But in the end, Izuku rejected his help, and it was his classmates instead who were able to save him. Now the very progress of humanity is rejecting him too. You may me wondering how on Earth I don’t see the logical conclusion of all this being his death. Hold on. It actually has a lot to do with the fact that we’re all expecting it. Nighteye himself saw it, and despite any contrary convictions anyone might have, the plot doesn’t seem to be veering away from that end. All Might Is Gonna Die, says absolutely everything.

It’s occurring to me that I have previous experience with this kind of plotline that probably little to no one else in this fandom shares, being that I’ve read a certain book series in which the main character is told in no uncertain terms that he will die (no, I’m not talking about hp). The series in question is T*e Und*rland Chronicl*s (censoring so it doesn’t get put in their side of tumblr) and I’m sorry but I’m about to go on a shameless tangent about it and spoil the ending for you.

So in this series there is a prophecy in every book, each one having something to do with war and conflict, and so far all of them have been right. In the last book [mc] finds out that it’s prophesied that he will be killed. Lots of the things in the prophecies are convoluted and metaphorical, but no, this one literally says “when the [mc’s title] has been killed.” He spends the whole book coming to terms with this, and he gives into it, only to find himself waking up in the hospital instead. “Wow, plot twist. /s” you may be thinking, and yeah sure, the mc in a kids book survived, big shocker. But it doesn't end there. After the war, there are peace talks, but they escalate until the two sides are on the verge of declaring war again. And [mc], bless him, has just been caught in the middle of all of this the entire time. He’s sick as shit of fighting, of watching the suffering and death of people he cares about. He draws his sword against both of them angrily, gives a speech saying he won’t take a side, and then promptly breaks his sword across his knee: “There. [mc’s title in the prophecies] is dead. I killed him.” He’s giving a huge middle finger to everyone there, to the man who wrote the prophecies, to the entire fucked up culture of it all. And so something that was taken literally turns out to be metaphorical. That is, if you still believe in the prophecies at all.

Hopefully you’re catching my drift here. What I’m saying is, even though this other series has nothing to do with bnha, it goes to show sometimes it’s the most absolute certainties that are red herrings, and a “death” can consequently be a symbolic one. In All Might’s case, it could be the death of hero society and a rejection of his own past. In other words, character development for Toshinori himself that reflects on the way the world is changing, too. Also there’s the fact that the mc from that other series I’m trying not to name has an honorary title, and I’m imagining that role he occupied “dying” could correspond to something that amounts to, “All Might is dead. I (Yagi Toshinori) killed him.”

And here’s another thing: we also have to ask ourselves what good a dead Toshinori is to Izuku, narratively speaking. Yes, Izuku has spent his whole life idolizing even the more toxic parts of All Might, and his idealized vision of his hero does need to “die.” But how about Toshinori as a father figure? Izuku regretting that his last interaction with Toshinori was to reject his help may drive home the fact that he shouldn’t go off on his own, but at this point it’s kinda redundant. If anything it would negate some of the progress that was just made because it’d make him extra paranoid about losing other people too. To be honest, the whole “Uncle Ben” trope, the mentor/father figure who dies and gives the mc a reason to do better, is so tired. Experiencing the death of a loved one really doesn’t deserve to be romanticized like that. I might as well admit that I’m speaking from experience, and let me tell you, losing someone you love suddenly, when you weren’t around, and with unfinished business--it makes you paranoid as hell that it will happen again. It literally gives me nightmares. Y’all, I cannot stress enough that trauma does not equal character development. Granted, just because I know this doesn’t mean Horikoshi does, but in general he does seem to lead his characters toward healing.

Okay, back to the present. Toshinori is turning away from UA. He likely feels useless and rejected. We can infer that what happens next will involve Stain, and we have a couple of extra clues to go with it: Stain considers All Might a true hero, and has stated that he would let All Might kill him. And since Horikoshi loves his parallels, we also have this fight between Endeavor and this random villain who admires him so much that he wants to die by Endeavor’s hand:

This suggests a confrontation in which Stain challenges All Might to live up to himself as he once was, so that as a hero he can vanquish Stain and symbolically overcome society's perversion of that role. But based on what All Might has learned about the system he upheld, Stain is wrong. All Might is not a “true hero” in the sense that the societal issues Stain witnessed exist not in spite of All Might, but (in part) because of him, because he took too much of the responsibility for himself.

Stain probably had no idea about the personal cost of All Might’s lonely burden until after the fact. Maybe he’s seeing it now. So then perhaps the confrontation would be more about Stain claiming he’s just as fake as the rest. Either way, Toshinori has the opportunity to denounce himself and be rid of “All Might,” to stop living in his own shadow. Nighteye’s vision has been defied before, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the combination of society shifting + Toshinori’s own conviction is enough to do it again and work fate in his favor.

He is not All Might. He is Yagi Toshinori: quirkless, worn down, and directionless except for his dedication to Izuku. If he survives his interaction with Stain, he can resolve his imperfect mentorship by confessing about his shortcomings and simply supporting Izuku as a part of his family, not as his teacher (as Aizawa said, just “being there”). And that’s how you really get character development, for both of them. I mean, shit, imagine Toshinori straight up telling Izuku to stop calling him All Might.

#disclaimer: I have a lot of emotional investment in dadmight #so I am hella biased #but hopefully I also have some unique insight to share #all might #yagi toshinori #bnha #mha #bnha meta #bnha 325 #bnha 326 #lin speaks

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

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No, Re-Destro Is Not Destro’s Literal Son

and

Yes, I Will Die On This Hill

I have a number of small, persistent quibbles with some of the widespread misapprehensions I see included in BNHA fanfic, quoted as fact in meta posts, even cited on the wiki. Quirk cancellation restraints, what the 20% quirklessness data point means in practice, when Kurogiri comes into existence relative to the time of the Shimura Family Massacre, things like that. My biggest one, though, is as the title suggests: the idea that Yotsubashi Rikiya is Yotsubashi Chikara’s son.

I don’t entirely know where this confusion comes from. As far as I can tell, the early scanlations didn’t get it wrong—one rendered the line in Chapter 218 about Destro having a child he didn’t know about as being children, plural, but otherwise, they were all accurate enough. It seems people just assumed that the child mentioned in 218 must be Re-Destro, who was, after all, right there on the panel. Even though the scanlations never said it, even though the official translation never said it, even though ample evidence in the manga disproves it, the idea still got around that Rikiya is Chikara’s son.

I have and will maintain that this is obviously wrong if you stop to think about it for even a moment, but unfortunately, most people don’t. The error can be found on less well-tended parts of the fandom wiki[1]; it’s in tumblr meta posts about the villains; it’s in fanfic.

And now, god help me, it is on the official anime website, too.

“Stillness-in-green, maybe you should consider that you might just be wro—”

I will face BONES and walk backwards into hell.

But if you want, you can come with me, and I’ll explain on the way. Hit the jump.

Dialogue + Narration

There are two places where the relationship between Chikara and Rikiya is explicitly addressed—the lead-in to the dinner scene in Chapter 218 and the fight between Clone!Shigaraki and RD in Chapter 232. If you include the Ultra Analysis databook, the number goes up to four: once each in Re-Destro and Destro Classic’s character blurbs.

Let’s take a look at each of those places, shall we?

The relevant Japanese text here is in the first narration box: 子ども, kodomo.

Kodomo is not gendered. It literally just means child. The key kanji is 子, ko. Like most kanji, it has a lot of potential readings, and you can add other kanji to it to modify it. Add 息 and you get musuko, son. Pronounce 子 as shi instead of ko, and you get a term that is frequently, though not exclusively, used to refer to boys. Add 女 to that reading and you get joshi, woman/girl. 子 is in a lot of words, many of them gendered! Used for kodomo as Hori does here, though, it does nothing to indicate a gender one way or the other.

Also too, it does nothing to indicate that Rikiya is the child in question; it simply states that there was such a child, somewhere in the world. Now, the natural assumption for anyone who knows how the graphic novel medium works and who understands basic literary analysis would be that the significant character we just met is, in fact, the child in question—except that everything else we learn about Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army here makes it entirely impossible.

I’ll do a full breakdown on why that is in the next section. In the meantime, here’s the next reference:

Here, we’re looking at the phrase the Viz translation renders as, “His blood runs through these veins.” The literal Japanese there is, Desutoro no matsuei chi o tsugu mono! In a literal translation, chi o tsugu mono means, “one who inherits the blood,” or, more loosely, “blood successor.” It’s matsuei—末裔—that’s the key word here.

Japanese has several words to express the concept of “descendant.” Matsuei is one word; the data book uses shison. So what’s the difference? Well, I’ll talk about shison in a moment, but I had an inkling of it just from looking at the kanji in matsuei—“end” and “descendant” respectively, leaving me with an impression of something like a final descendant or the terminus of the bloodline. Further research confirmed it: shison can refer to any lineal blood tie, but matsuei refers to a bloodline’s final inheritor, the person at the end of a long line of many, or even countless, generations. It’s the difference between being able to point to a grandparent and the kind of painstaking genealogical research that lets you[2] point to a famous royal from eight hundred years ago—matsuei is a word that very much assumes the existence of those countless generations.

So not only does Rikiya’s line there not imply that he’s Chikara’s son, but his specific word choice also tells us that he cannot be Chikara’s son. That’s, uh. Pretty conclusive, I would say.

Lastly, though, there’s also the data book. This is, perhaps, the actual closest you’re going to get to a manga equivalent of those character blurbs on the anime website, at least until such time as Hori deigns to give the MLA types character profile pages. (I live ever in hope.)

There are two relevant bits of text, one in Re-Destro’s entry, and the other in Destro Classic’s. The first describes how Re-Destro organizes the MLA as Desutoro no chi o tsugu mono: the same phrase he uses for himself in the manga, minus the matsuei. @codenamesazanka (the one who told me about the databook references among other citations, bless) rendered it as “Destro’s blood successor”; I have also seen it given as “the successor of Destro’s bloodline.” Note again, the lack of reference to a father/son bond.

Chikara’s entry uses that other descendant word I mentioned before, ��孫, shison. Notice that the term uses that ko kanji from kodomo before? As it does in joshi, 子 here reads shi. The other kanji, 孫, means grandchild. Thus, literally, grandchild-child—or, in the vernacular, simply descendant.

And then we have the anime website.

So, for comparison’s sake, the anime website uses 息子—the same combination of kanji that I said earlier gives you musuko, son. Heck, it even uses 父, chichi, for Destro—father. It’s as explicit as it’s possible to be, and I just don’t know why or how the anime website could fuck that up so bad when absolutely nothing in the manga describes the two Yotsubashis that way, and, indeed, one specific word choice actually rules out the possibility.

So, that’s all the manga says directly. It’s not the only evidence there is, though. In fact, the next piece makes it even more clear how colossally and impossibly wrong a father/son connection for Destro and his modern successor is.

Timeline

The long and short of this section is, “Since Harima Oji was Sako Atsuhiro’s great-great-grandfather, there is no possible way that Destro—who pre-dated Harima—can be Re-Destro’s father.” If you read that sentence and nodded your complete understanding and agreement, feel free to skip ahead to the last section. If you’d like the full explanation it takes to reach that sentence’s conclusion, though, read on.

So, aside from the word matsuei, the timeline is the most telling piece of evidence to my eye. I address it secondly rather than firstly because it’s less direct than the explicit narration; it relies on drawing conclusions based on things we’ve been told elsewhere rather than on the immediately relevant text. Oh, Mr. Compress’s relationship to Harima is explicit enough, but on what am I basing my claim that Destro predates him?

Regarding that, there’s no explicit year relative to My Hero Academia’s current events given for when Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army were active; the same is true for Harima Oji’s escapades. However, we are given some broad-strokes information, relative not to current events, but rather to the history of heroism as a legal institution in Japan.

We know that there was a widespread, lengthy period of chaos following the rise of quirks—called meta-abilities in those early years. At some point, however, people began to search for a way for meta-humans to live in peace with non-metas. The compromise that was reached was the foundation of professional heroism in Japan—while the use of meta-abilities would be legal in private settings, it was only by becoming licensed by the state as “heroes” that people could use their quirks in public.[3]

The legislation curtailing the use of meta-abilities—and the appropriation of a dead woman’s language to popularize a law establishing exactly the opposite of what she used that language to call for—is what catalyzed the rise of the original MLA. Thus, we can position Destro as being alive and active around the same time that heroism as a legal institution was being formed. Since we further know that he committed suicide in prison, we can assume that his child was conceived at some point prior to his capture. Ergo, Destro’s child, were they alive today, would be as old as Japanese professional heroism itself.

Next, consider Harima Oji, the Peerless Thief, a criminal who targeted the riches of “sham heroes.” We’re specifically told that he was active in the days in which the current system was settling into place—e.g. he only became active once the Hero System was established enough to have produced corrupt heroes. We’re told he preached reformation—he wasn’t just some pre-existing criminal who saw a shiny new target in heroes; he had specific grievances which he wanted addressed by the system, and which the system was not addressing.

The earliest Harima could possibly be active, then, is concurrent with Destro—Harima fighting against the corrupt people who had found their way into the new heroic institution, and Destro fighting against using the institution of heroism to oppress non-heroes. What I think is more likely, though, is that Harima came after Destro—Harima needed to have had time to realize what kinds of fakes had been drawn to this shiny new career path, maybe even to spend some time trying to change things the legal way.

I don’t suspect they were separated by very long—I would imagine Destro was easily within Harima’s living memory, and might well have influenced why he chose the path of protest that he did—but I do think they were separate.

Moving forward, then, Mr. Compress is four generations distant from his famous ancestor. Thus, even if you assume that Harima is of the same generation as Chikara, that’s what you’re looking at for Chikara’s child: someone who, were they alive today, would be old enough to be the great-grandparent of a thirty-two-year-old man.

Re-Destro’s probably a few years older than Mr. C, sure,[4] but that man doesn’t have Ujiko’s slow-aging quirk. Unless you want to start pulling theories about cryogenic stasis the story for some reason never saw fit to mention out of thin air, Re-Destro is in no way old enough to fit the bill.

This is backed up by one other piece of the timeline as well, and one more place we can look at language:

The small child at the center of the image is Rikiya, so young that he’s in schoolboy shorts for a meeting otherwise so formal that he’s been made to wear a tie. He’s, what, six to nine here, tops? And the adults speaking to him say that they’ve been in hiding for generations—代々, daidai, the kanji for generation followed by a kanji that just means, “See that kanji written right before me? Yeah, just read that one again.”

The original MLA was active for only a handful of years, and, per Chapter 218, they didn’t dissolve until Destro was captured. Thus, we can assume they have been in hiding since then, but not before then. With that in mind, this is another line that renders a father/son relationship impossible.

Remember, Chikara already had a child in the world circa his capture. If Rikiya were Chikara’s son, then Destro’s capture and his army’s subsequent dissolution could not have happened any farther back than nine months plus however old Rikiya was in this exact moment of his youth. Rikiya, who we see here as a child of less than ten.

Ten years in hiding doesn’t make one generation; it damn sure doesn’t make multiple ones.

Now, you could make theories about cryogenic statis that would explain this ludicrous discrepancy, sure. You could also theorize about e.g. artificial insemination,[5] or time stop quirks, or any number of other possibilities in the vast panoply the HeroAca world offers. The point is, though, that you don’t need to. There was, in the manga, no discrepancy that needed to be explained. It is only fanon misinterpretation and a glaring disinterest in the series’ villains from official sources that have presented this issue.

I’m praying that it’s all just a misunderstanding on the part of whoever maintains the website, and that the anime itself will render the relevant bits of dialogue correctly. Given the extreme cuts and alterations that My Villain Academia has been subjected to thus far, though, I’m sure you can appreciate my being concerned.

…So that’s the meat of it. The idea that Rikiya is Chikara’s son is wrong simply on the basis of what’s said in the text, and it’s doubly wrong on the basis of the timeline. There is, though, one other thing I think points towards Re-Destro being exactly the descendant he says he is, not a son playing down the connection out of humility or something. This one is a lot more headcanon-y, though, so I saved it for last.

MLA Social Dynamics

It’s quite simple. We have, in the MLA, a group of people that venerates Destro’s bloodline to an obviously unhealthy degree, putting up portraits of him wherever they can get away with it, tagging his successor with a “Re-” as if to invoke reincarnation or miraculous return, entirely willing to throw their lives away for what they think was his cause, and others’ lives if those others say anything too scathing about the words Destro wrote, quite as if they treat Destro’s memoir as some sort of holy writ.

They venerate Destro that much, and you’re trying to tell me that they wouldn’t just call a spade a spade and acknowledge RD as the son of their great leader? Come on.

Since long before I turned up the matsuei factoid in researching this piece, since long before Mr. Compress gave us such a helpful generational comparison, I’ve held the opinion that, given a group that holds their leaders in such high esteem, with such particular regard for bloodline, the only reason Rikiya does just call himself a descendant, rather than citing the specific term for what he is, is that the specific term is distant enough that it actually does sound more impressive to just say “descendant,” rather than something like, “great-great-great-grandson.” That kind of thing just begs the question, “What took you guys so long?” or, “You and how many other people, buddy?”

Mr. Compress may have the panache to carry off a line like that, but Rikiya’s a different story. If he had something so amazing up his sleeve as, “I am the son of the great Destro,” I have to think he’d just say it proudly, not fall back on the impressionistic vaguery of something like chi o tsugu mono. Even if I had no other evidence to work with, I’d think the same—all the evidence you need is right there in the character writing of who Rikiya and the MLA are and how they talk about the man whose dreams Re-Destro was raised to carry.

A closing note: I will allow that Rikiya is being overdramatic when he uses matsuei and its connotation of countless generations. There are a few other things we can use to trace the history of heroism—Ujiko’s age, and the 18-years-or-less periods that One For All was held by its pre-All Might bearers—and running those numbers leads me to believe that it is, in fact, entirely possible to count the number of generations between Rikiya and Chikara, and the number, while higher than one, is probably not all that high. Certainly matsuei is being more dramatic about it than is entirely warranted, hence the poetic flourish of the official translation’s, “His blood runs through these veins!” The theatricality only makes me fonder of him, however.

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

FOOTNOTES

[1] It was changed and reverted on Re-Destro’s page at least twice before it finally stuck in January of this year. Chikara’s page took until July to be corrected, and it’s still wrong on various other subpages.

[2] Or your kids, if you have those. Only the last generation in the bloodline is the matsuei, but that’s a moving goalpost as long as the bloodline is still propagating.

[3] This summary of events combines what we know from both My Hero Academia proper and the Vigilantes spin-off, which I recommend to anyone who’s at all interested in finer-grained worldbuilding on Hero Society Japan than the main series makes time for.

[4] I personally headcanon him as 42.

[5] To which point I would refer back to the word kodomo, and note that that word choice indicates that Destro had a child in the world. Not a sperm sample kept in a freezer somewhere, waiting for the right would-be mother: an actual child. Some quick research on my part says that the farthest that term stretches is in using it to refer to yet-unborn children, fetuses still in the womb. Seeing as Japan doesn’t even allow inmates conjugal visits in real life, much less in a setting where villains are so dehumanized that Tartarus is an acceptable punishment for them, the line about Destro “having a child out in the world” takes us right back to a date of conception no later than Destro’s final night of freedom.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha meta #yotsubashi rikiya #yotsubashi chikara #re-destro #destro bnha #meta liberation army #my writing #i have thoughts on the anime's nonsense too but #hahawow #that's gonna take a little longer to get coherent #preview: it's not about capitalism #it's about fear

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deltawrites · 4 years ago

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand.

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are.

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day.

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation.

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human.

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation.

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable.

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place…

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night.

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness-

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then.

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet.

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely.

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts.

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down.

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated.

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior.

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated.

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

552 notes · View notes

earnestly-endlessly · 4 years ago

Note

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #angst #asks #earnestly answers

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

Text

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

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

“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

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

In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

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

“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #love this lady<3

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theodora3022 · 4 years ago

Text

Playing tricks with the trickster

Summary: Failed escape attempt from yandere Childe. He lets you play your cards, even playing along, just for his own amusement.

Notes: My first genshin piece yay... I had a sweet and terrible dream of me running from Childe in the woods. Also some inspiration was drawn from @cinnamonest‘s this post, one big virtual hug to her! I hope I did Childe justice, what can I say I love manipulative smiling boys. It has become a pattern as I dash from one fandom to another. This is had turned out to be longer then I expected...Ginger boy demands my time and energy too much omg. Mind the warnings, although there is nothing extreme in this.

Fun fact, I was looping to Nintendo game by Alessia Cara when writing this down. I believe it fits the theme of this fic quite well.

Tagging: @akutaguagua a great friend who patiently beta-read this mess of a horror dream and gave me lots of kind praises!

(Offical art belongs to miHoYo! This is a cover page of this video, if there is any issues, contact me and I will remove it at once)

Warnings: Implied past abduction,dub-con touching, mild degradation, drugging(not on reader), implied non-con/dub-con at the end, this is not healthy love and I do not condone this irl.

It has been nearly a month since the youngest Fatui Harbinger had “taken you in”. After a few tries, you were too horrified by the punishments to continuously fight him. You learned on the first day that Childe’s smiling, the friendly mask would come off towards you. Your behaviour would decide if that is a curse or a “blessing”.

So you had quieted down, struggling to restrain yourself from yelling or screaming, carefully not to provoke his anger. Despite being compliant to his orders, you never truly showed him any affection either. Sure, you would sit on his lap if he asked, but you never initiated anything intimate with him. No matter how much Tartaglia spoiled you with clothes, books, jewelry or other luxuries, he is still the one who holds the commanding end of your shackles. It’s the best not to get used to all of that when your sight is set on the door.

Although he has taken your freedom away, you are not kept in a windowless room. On the contrary, you have too many outings now. Wherever he goes, you have to be present in a 2m radius, including meetings. Being a Harbinger is no easy job, so he prefers not having to worry about your safetly during buisness hours. The best way to do that is never let you out of his sight.

“Love, no one should witness our little problems. Well, no one alive that is.” Of course you wouldn’t want to put innocent people's lives at stake. You never dared to act out when you two are in public, and no one would bat an eye if a Fatui had taken a lover.

You had taken an emotionless approach towards him. If Childe wants a kiss on the cheek, you’ll give him a quick light peck. If he wants breakfast, you’ll go make some pancakes with the topping he likes. Luckily, Childe had not done anything too extreme yet. If cuddling to sleep does not count as extreme that is. The only time you slipped up is when he suddenly hugs you from behind when you’re cooking.

You thought maybe, just maybe, by being as boring and dull as you could, this bastard might just get tired of you and let you go. Childe only loves the fun of it right? Or maybe it could lower his guard.

Oh, how naive you are. You should have known better than to underestimate a Fatui harbinger. See, this is exactly why he needs to keep you around. Yes, unfortunately for you, Childe loves you, so very much. Speaking to him with a monotone voice isn’t going to alter that fact.

You have been devoid of emotions as of late. While Childe does appreciate fewer screams for the sake of his eardrums, this schemer can sense you are up to something. Perhaps this is the peace before your “storm”(he thought of it more like a drizzle)

You want to play a game? Okay, why not? Childe cannot wait to see what tricks you got on those sleeves. Are you ever getting away? Does an amateur ever win when they play a game with a professional trickster? Never.

Still, nothing bites like a cornered rat. You are no airhead, and he is fully aware of that. Just not as cunning and observent as him, that’s all.

The way you just kept your emotions sealed up is impressive, even to someone like him. Even when he got hansy, you did not flinch and just stared at the corner. Childe can only catch faint glimpses of anger when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Hm, when are you pulling your trigger? Tonight, or tomorrow night? Not that Childe is impatient, anything from you is worth waiting. But he would need to dismiss his patrolling underlings in the nearby woods beforehand. No extras would be allowed to disturb this game.

There is no chance during the day, a somewhat mutual understanding for you two. Night time in comparison, is a different story.

Anyone’s sleeping hours is their most vulnerable time of the day, Childe is no exception. You do not plan to harm him, not that you don’t want to. But you are willing to swallow the pent up frustration towards him if you would never see his face again after this. Maybe beating up some slimes would help with the release?

You somehow managed to slip a mixture of herbs into his tea. Since he would buy cooking ingredients for you from time to time, you had requested a bunch of herbs along with the ingredients of a sleep inducing medicine you remembered. Although Childe does all he can to keep you near him, there are inevitable hours that he needs to be somewhere without you. He cannot jeopardize your safety with troublesome monsters. On a side note, he loves showing you off to anyone, his colleagues, acquaintances, business partners, anyone he does not deem a threat.

Enough time for you to make those herbs into powder and cover it up with a few spoons of milk. Tea with milk has become quite popular in Liyue as of late. Childe has grown to love them, so you have learned how to mix it up. He always let you handle his food and drinks, saying that he “trusts you”. What you do not know is this is one of the openings he exposed on purpose. It’s not like you can aquire anything deadly under his suffocating supervision.

Your plan will work, or so you think. Childe will not wake up when you wiggle out of his grasp, because dreamland will keep him occupied. All you need is a glider and a usable sword from Liyue and you’ll get your life back. Bottling up extreme emotions has certainly taken a toll on your mind, but it will be worth it if that is the prerequisite of being free.

Something about this being so easy sits ill with you. Have you really been with the youngest Fatui Harbinger this whole time? But that was brushed off your shoulders by the sheer excitement of regaining your long lost freedom. You know Liyue is in walking distance, all you need to do is cross these woods and-

The moment you dive into the forest, you think you heard an amused chuckle.

That smooth voice terrifies you to no end, the same voice you took orders from for the past month.

Oh, how Childe loves seeing you happy. It’s priceless, both literally and figuratively. No matter how many things he buys you, you had not shown him even one small smile. Enjoy your sweet freedom, because it ain’t going to last. You certainly will know your place after this right? If not you are just dumber then he give you credit for.

That glow of relief in your eyes is worth every last bit of this intense dizzying feeling to Childe. To make sure your plan go through, he had drunk the tea without hesitation, quick enough to catch the momentarily excitement you expressed. He knows the game is on, therefore he had given the night patrol guards the entire evening off. Forcing himself to stay concious by digging his nails into his palms, Childe followed you into the woods.

Your potion is quite strong. Excellent, you’ll have to give him the recipe for informational purposes later. Especially how you managed to achieve such effects with a few herbs you had. He never took you to be anything less than a smart girl, but this has exceeded his expectations. Where’s the fun in a game without challenges?

How you storm through the forest wearing that cute terrified expression looks so endearing, it’s surely not his fault if he wants to enjoy this sight to be longer right.

So, each time you feel the slightest at ease due to whatever reason, expect Childe to make some sound to send you running like your life depends on it again. The sadistic man is hunting you down playfully, like a cat chasing a stray mouse to the inevitable corner.

You know he is toying with you. There is nothing you can do to make him shut up though.

“Love, you had scratched your leg. Must hurts by the looks of it.”

“Liyue is that way, you know.”

“Are you tired? If you want to jog in the middle of the night, you should have called me to come along!”

How can he say those things nonchalantly while you are trying to escape from him? Here he is, daunting you with that signature smile he wears so very often. That is when reality slaps you right in the face. No matter how hard you plan, no matter how fast you run, there is no getting rid of him.

When your stamina runs out, a simple pull and push on your left wrist is enough to let you fall onto the ground panting. Even now, you still refuse to beg for mercy. You would take the cold grounds to the warmth of Childe’s embrace anyday.

“Aw, burnt out already? Pathetic. Looks like we need to work on your stamina more. But this is not the place for exercise.”

“Look at me.” His slender but forceful fingers tilt your head up, making you look into those ocean blue orbs. There is anger present in his eyes, but those emotions are more a mixture of delight and that. His smile had also been replaced by a mocking smirk. “You, trying to leave me? Your sense of humor is...well, let’s just call it unique. Lucky for you, you amused me nonetheless.”

“I know what you’re thinking. How I’m a selfish jerk and you hate me. Why be so ungrateful? You get to live in luxury thanks to me, you know. I am selfish, yes, but look how stupid you are. I know you added something extra in my evening tea, my beloved.”

“Come now, we are going to do some exercises suited for a night like this once we’re back home. It is our one month milestone, after all. You had already given me your gift, it is only fair for you that I do the same.”

Childe is not making a sarcastic remark. The thrill of that chase was the best fun he had in months. And you are going to love his gift too, maybe not right away, but surely sometimes after.

You have to mentally prepare yourself for the worst as he dragged you back to the prison, hopefully you’ll still be able to walk properly after whatever Childe got in store.

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #this is a dream fleshed out into a fic #i am not sorry

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ackerpreach · 4 years ago

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This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could. She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared.

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN)

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her??? He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.

Like seriously??? What is this???

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for.

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa.

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that? Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way. Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO! All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship.

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this.

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way.

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy.

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR.

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that???

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below. I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place... It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga.

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all got thrown out of the window...

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’)

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to. I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative.

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

#rivamika #snk leaks #snk 139 leaks #levimika #mikalevi

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raamyun-and-rambles · 4 years ago

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Of Qingxins and Rattles: One

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Xiao x Reader

Summary: He's afraid to reach out, to touch something so pure that a being like him must never hold. The voices in his head scream blasphemy and lies.

———–

Xiao was a being that has existed for thousands of centuries.

Which meant that he has outlived countless of people, watching them come and go as they eventually get taken by the passage of time.

It was also safe to say that the yaksha has experienced much more than any other mortal could in their entire lifetime. He's travelled the entirety of Liyue on foot, has bore witness to phenomenon that people could only talk about in hushed whispers as the eons pass them by and has fought a number of battles that no human could ever imagine. The blood that stained his hands wasn't something that could be easily washed away and Xiao was convinced that anything good touched by those hands would wither and perish. He was a sinner and Xiao was determined to live the rest of his life paying off the debt of his sins in perpetual agony until you waltzed into his life, turning everything he's come to known in disarray the moment he saw the breeze catch locks of your (h/c) as you overlooked Dihua Marsh from Wangshu Inn's balcony.

In retrospect, the Yaksha should have known better than to meddle in trivial human affairs. You were just another face among thousands he's met. You shouldn't have been able to draw him in the way you did. Yet here he was now, putty in your arms as you stroked gentle circles on the small of his back, whispering words of love and reassurance that Xiao knows he doesn't deserve but soaks it up all the same.

Perhaps...just maybe - Xiao thinks with a hopeful afterthought as his lips press against yours in a silent act of worship of your presence, fingers ghosting feather light touches onto your skin - maybe he too deserved even a moment of respite, to love and be loved.

To simply exist in bliss.

Xiao looks at you with a gaze that displays deep unspoken emotion. He watches you in awe even with the simplest of his things.

He watches in awe as you work your way in the kitchen, weaving your way through the space and he fights back a chuckle as you almost trip. He catches you before you could hurt yourself though (he always does).

He watches in awe even when you rouse from your sleep, admiring the way the sun bathes you in a warm glow as it floods into the room from the open window. He admires the way your lashes slowly flutter as you attempt to blink away the sleep that raptures your system, sending him a small smile as you nuzzle further into his embrace, murmuring something about needing a couple more hours of rest. Xiao scoffs at that every time, knowing you'd oversleep (yet he always allows you).

Mortal traditions don't normally interest Xiao, yet he watches in awe as you walked down the makeshift aisle the inn staff had prepared, donned in fine silk and Qingxin braided in your hair. Xiao thought you've never looked more beautiful, like a goddess that has descended from Celestia itself. It takes him a while to recover from the sight and by then you're already standing next to him with the brightest of smiles, holding his hand and intertwining your fingers. The entire world tuned out of existence and the only thing Xiao could see was you. He doesn't even remember what he said for his vows, too awestruck to even form a coherent sentence as his thoughts reeled a thousand miles per second. Whatever it was he said seemed to make you happy and Xiao allows himself to smile as he slips the ring onto your finger. There weren't many to bear witness to the day you both promised to be one - except perhaps Verr, Huai'an and the traveler who each played a part - but for Xiao it was more than enough to feel the plush of your lips against his under the light of the moon and the stars.

(Zhongli couldn't help but smile at the scene before him but he leaves without another word, receding into the darkness of the night before anyone could take notice.)

Xiao worried the most throughout your pregnancy and even more so on the day you gave birth. Mortals are far too fragile of a creature and Xiao was hyperaware of this fact as he paced to and fro outside the door, could only hear the way you cry out and the midwife's gentle encouragement as she eases you through the process. There was a moment of silence and Xiao had to fight the urge to burst into the room, thinking that something terrible must have gone wrong until suddenly there was a tiny cry and Xiao's heart seized up in his throat.

He was allowed inside a moment later and he immediately moves to your side, gently stroking your hair as you smiled up at him tiredly before turning your gaze to the baby swaddled in your arms.

"Congratulations," the midwife had said, a smile on her face before leaving the room, "it's a healthy baby girl."

No amount of words could have ever expressed the emotion swirling in Xiao's eyes, both anxiety, joy and excitement clashing within amber speckled orbs but his hand stops in mid-air and all of a sudden time feels as though it was suddenly put to a halt.

Is this truly alright?

He's afraid to reach out, to touch something so pure that a being like him must never hold. The voices in his head scream blasphemy and lies.

Perhaps this was just some dream he's conjured up in the hazy murk of his mind and he'll wake up on the roof of the inn like he's always had with only the frigid wind keeping him company. That's right, maybe this wasn't true at all. He's simply far too gone that he's fabricated an ideal world of his making. One where he lives in peace, where he's loved and accepted. The iron tang of blood suddenly fills the air and all at once he imagines the battles he's fought, the sickening squelch of metal against flesh and the dust and grime of battles waged in war. The screams, the cries, the pain, the agony-

A small hand wrapping itself around his pinky successfully pulls him out of his trance and the soft giggle and coo that followed after it made Xiao's chest constrict tightly with an emotion he can't seem to place.

Xiao's breath catches in his throat as the small fist around his finger grounded him back to reality.

For a moment Xiao felt stupid for allowing himself to be consumed by how his mind wandered back into one of the darkest fragments of his memory, how could he when he was in front of the very two things that shone light in his life of perpetual agony?

The adepti allowed a shaky breath himself a shaky breath at long last, leaning closer so he could rest his head against yours while he allowed his daughter to hold onto his pinky.

"Can I..." he started, fumbling with his words as he kept his gaze fixated on the infant, "can I hold her?"

The apprehension in his voice was terribly apparent and in an effort to calm his nerves you gently press a kiss to his cheek, nodding before carefully placing the child in his awkward attempt of a cradle. He quickly adjusts himself with your careful guidance, much more silent than he already usually is as the baby babbled sleepily. You will yourself to stay awake despite the fatigue and discomfort settling in your bones, opting instead to lean back against the headboard as you watch Xiao marvel in the presence of your child.

"I'll protect you." Xiao says a moment later, voice soft yet filled with determination.

He turns to face you this time and you swore you saw his eyes glisten with the beginning of tears but you don't get so much of a second chance to look before he rests his forehead against your shoulder, purposely hiding so you won't see the way he breaks and the vulnerability that lies behind the battle-hardened warrior of one of Rex Lapis' strongest Yakshas.

"I'll protect the both of you no matter what the cost."

You're both terribly precious to me.

———–

I feel like I idealize relationships with these characters so much because of how touch-starved and affection craved I am but I live for soff Xiao so here. Take this mushy thing I made during class again wwww

I do hope it wasn’t too OOC at least

#Genshin Impact #Genshin Impact Xiao #genshin impact fanfiction #Genshin Impact x Reader #Xiao x Reader #Of Qingxins and Rattles

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shadowsong26fic · 2 years ago

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A Canopy of Stars

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG

Fandom: BSG

Characters: Gaius Baltar, Caprica-Six

Warnings: Background references to death/etc,; but nothing really specific.

Summary: A few weeks after settling on Earth, Gaius and Caprica share a quiet night together.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Written for the Year of the OTP event. March prompt: fresh starts.

(I am also going to do this for Star Wars and some of my original ‘verses, if you’re interested in checking those out! One ship per canon. The fanfic ones will be posted to AO3 probably a day or two after they’re on tumblr. This fic is also available on AO3 here. Master list of all fills can be found here.)

This was something they had never done before--lie on the grass together, staring up at the stars. Or, well, perhaps Caprica had projected something like this for herself, somewhere along the line, but it had never been an experience they’d shared.

But they were here now, together, on the living Earth; together under a canopy of stars, the air smelling of sweet grass and woodsmoke.

(The fire was mostly there to deter any curious local fauna from investigating their half-built home. The night was warm enough, and the full moon provided enough light, that they wouldn’t have needed it otherwise.)

If it wasn’t entirely quiet--due to said curious local fauna, if nothing else--it was peaceful.

And it all felt…very real. Purely, physically, undeniably real. This world, this new life, the sound of her breathing next to him. Not suddenly, exactly, but more so than it had yesterday, or the day before. Tomorrow, he thought, might be realer yet again.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Mm, nothing really,” he said, shifting position to lean on one arm, tracing delicate patterns along her shoulder with one finger, and then paused, remembering. “…you had a scar here, didn’t you? I mean, before. On Caprica.”

It had been a slightly jagged crescent on the outside of her arm. And he remembered the dress she’d been wearing the first time he’d noticed it--soft, dark green; with just enough buttons to build tension and not so many that it became frustrating.

Her hand drifted to meet his, and she smiled. “I did. I remember thinking it looked like a moon.”

“It did,” he said, and kissed the spot--and then her fingertips--softly. “…did it…”

“What?”

“Was it strange, to…to wake up and find it gone?”

It was something he’d never really thought about before, in all the time he’d given to considering Cylon resurrection, particularly after D’Anna. But seeing her unscarred shoulder…while there were things he would certainly prefer to forget, the thought of waking up with scars like that one, with all the little marks that showed one’s body had been truly lived in just--gone, washed away in a cybernetic amniotic bath…

“…I’m not sure strange is the right word,” she said, after thinking it over for a moment. “Especially with…with everything else going through my head at the time. But I noticed it. I was encouraged to…I tried not to think about it too often. To allow myself that…that clean break, that new beginning. To move forward. But I remembered. I couldn’t help remembering.” It was her turn to shift position now, leaning on that same arm to face him, resting her face on her hand; her hair almost glowing in the moonlight. “Do you want to know how I got it?”

“Maybe later,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, light and tender. “We have time.”

And there it was again; that sense of reality. Not closing in, the way it had in the past.

But stretching out around them; wide open, like this grassy clearing; like the endless starry sky.

Like the promises they’d made--no more secrets, no more lies, no more hidden agendas or ulterior motives. To take the leap of faith, to be honest with each other, to trust each other.

They had loved each other for a long time; but this kind of simple, open trust was something new.

And beautiful.

She smiled; that soft, sweet smile that had once been so rare and so cherished--although no less so now that he saw it almost every day--and kissed him back. “We have all the time in the world.”

#shadowsong writes bsg

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castthy-nightedcolour · 4 years ago

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One- Shot: A Different Side (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Crowley, a very annoying mouse

Warnings and Tags: snakes, animal death/ harm, swearing, uh oh we have a pest control problem, snake crowley, comfort , are they aren’t they

Summary: mouse traps, a skip full of rubbish and a broken down bus. not exactly your dream day, but your favourite demonic entity has a trick up his sleeve and behind his glasses to help you.

Word Count: 2778

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/81050182

If there was one word to describe your mood, that word would be vile. Tiny little irritants throughout the day had built to a simmering anger:

-Firstly, your bus into town had broken down about ten minutes away from your stop, meaning that you were forced to trek your way to the shops.

-Secondly, your trip to said shops wasn’t for any kind of retail therapy, but was instead to buy mouse traps. Your usually serene flat had been taken over by a little grey rodent who despite any humane efforts, was refusing to leave. You weren’t usually one for violence towards any living thing, but the little shit was out staying its welcome and had most recently been seen taking a bite out of a loaf of bread.

-When you did eventually get into town, it seemed to be the day for the world’s slowest walkers to take to the streets. Everyone was moving at about two steps per minute and you, being naturally speedy, were constantly waiting for gaps on the pavement to overtake. When you did manage to do this, there would be a whole new couple walking side by side, plodding along at a snail’s pace. You weren’t getting anywhere quick.

All in all, not your finest hour. This all came to a head on Oxford Street, or as you liked to call it, hell.

Your brain felt as though it were made of jelly, your temperature was rising, and someone stopped right in the middle of the street to check their phone. Slamming right into the back of them, you immediately let out something resembling a howl before running to your side off down Old Cavendish Street, somewhere slightly quieter. You leaned against the nearest wall, hot anger bubbling within you for what at the time, seemed like a life or death scenario of you getting out of town with the mousetraps, but in retrospect was just the culmination of various shitty things.

The last thing which you wanted to hear was any sign that you were being perceived, but a teenage boy riding past you on a bike shouting an obnoxious ‘WAHEYYYY’ at you was enough to tip you over the edge. You bashed your head back on the wall, feeling acid tears of anger falling, pedalled down your face by your short temper. Then, another shout came towards you from across the street.

‘Y/N? Is that you?’

You were ready to push yourself off the wall to lunge at this person until your brain caught up with recognition. Tilting your head forwards, your suspicions were confirmed when you saw floppy, ginger hair bouncing over the street atop a leather-clad frame. The sunglasses perched on his nose brought you a feeling somewhere between relief and fear.

You and Crowley had a relationship which can only be described as ‘are they? Aren’t they?’

You sure as hell couldn’t tell if he had any romantic feelings for you, and he gave off vibes so mixed that they were jumbled by this point. People always commented on the electricity between the two of you whenever you were together, but you tried not to get your hopes up and usually just put this down to his magnetising nature.

He’d told you about himself, and you thought that he must have trusted you somewhat to be able to disclose that he was a demon to you.

Then again, maybe he was just overly confident.

In the state you were currently in, you couldn’t decide whether to run into his arms to scream, or run as quickly away from him as was physically possible.

Your body chose neither and just stood there, open mouthed and gawking as the tears continued to fall with no effort from your eyelids. Crowley examined you, peering over the top of his sunglasses to try and decipher the scene before him.

‘Don’t tell me someone’s upset you, because I will find them for you, Y/N’ he started, rearing himself up as he spoke. You jumped in.

‘No, no. Not upset. I swear. Just… pissed off. Massively, massively pissed off. Short fuse today, y’see.’

‘Oh. Well, I know all about that. I’m quick to anger at any given moment but then again, ‘s in my nature. What exactly are you doing down here?’

You looked to your side at the gigantic skip full of building waste, then down to your feet where someone’s puke sat. You looked back up to the demon.

‘It was a quick escape, one that was made before I slapped someone in the face.’

Crowley looked slightly taken aback, not expecting any expression of violence from you considering your usually placid nature.

‘Ooookay. Well, I won’t ask for details but, here.’ He leaned over slightly and brushed away some of the tears which were still running down your face. You could swear that you both stopped breathing for a moment as he touched you but then again, you weren’t in a fit state for rational thinking.

‘Thank you,’ you breathed out. ‘I’m all good, I promise. Just need to breathe.’ You gave a reassuring smile to the demon and noticed him looking down to your hand, holding a flimsy plastic bag containing the mouse traps.

‘What you got there? Looks interesting.’ He said, tilting his head to try and get a closer look. You brought the bag up to your chest.

‘Oh, mouse traps. There’s a little shit thinking that he owns my flat who’s probably currently in my bread bin. Thought I’d stop the problem while I could, considering there’s that saying about seeing mice. Y’know, for every mouse you see, there’s always another one somewhere. Can’t wait to clean that up!’ Your words had somewhat of a bite, being spat like venom.

‘Woah. You really are pissed, aren’t you?’ Crowley responded, half smirking. For some reason, this set you off again.

‘Yes. Yes, actually I am. Because y’know what? This day has been fucking horrific! I genuinely don’t think that I’ve had two consecutive minutes of peace since the second I woke up. I can’t relax because of the mouse, then there was the bus, and the walking, and the pain in my feet, and the twat who decided to check his phone in the middle of Oxford Street. Sorry, who the hell does that? I just feel like I’ve been left out of any plans that the universe had to let people go about their day without a care in the world. So yes, I’m fuming.’ You gave a huff before realising that you were now crying again. Crowley stood slightly dumbstruck, shifting his weight between his feet. You glanced off to the side, watching the shoppers propel themselves down Oxford Street.

The demon then spoke, his voice low and sincere.

‘Can I give you a lift?’

—

After what felt like a windswept journey in the Bentley, Crowley screeched to a halt outside your flat. Jolting forwards slightly, the plastic bag containing the mouse traps crinkled between your legs.

You’d calmed down quite significantly, but now felt a combination of complete embarrassment that you’d had such an outburst in front of the being that you completely adored, and absolute excitement that he’d even offered you a lift. This wasn’t helped when you heard him say,

‘Let me walk you upstairs. Check that you’re okay.’

You felt fizzy, and as the two of you trudged up to your flat, you felt as though you could lift off any second. As you unlocked your front door, Crowley leaned on the doorframe, peering in to the hallway as you threw your bag on the floor. You suddenly regretted this as when the bag hit the floor, there was a scuttle from under your bedroom door, and the little mouse took one giant sprint off towards the kitchen. You screamed in shock as the little bastard took itself away, and Crowley grabbed onto your arm. This made you jump for a second time.

‘Woah woah there, calm down. It’s just a little mouse, we’ll sort this,’ Crowley sweetly spoke, lulling your heart back to a slightly normal rate. You looked down to his arm resting on yours and couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Crowley had a look on his face which would have read from ten miles away as one with a scheme brewing.

‘Look Y/N, I’m going to do something here which I don’t do very often, and all I’m asking is that you don’t freak out,’ the demon announced.

You couldn’t help but make a sarcastic joke.

‘What’s that then, the housework?’ Smirking, you looked up at Crowley who glared at you through his sunglasses.

‘Fine, you don’t need my help!’ He huffed, obviously taking the piss but you couldn’t help but tease him back into good spirits.

‘No no, sorry Crowley. What have you got for me?’

‘Snake.’

You stood there for a second, trying to make any sense of what he just said and burning up slightly as you wondered if this was perhaps his way of flirting.

‘A… a snake? You have a snake?’

‘Yes. Well, no. Well… yes. Look it’s complicated, can I just show you?’

Uh oh. Maybe this was him flirting.

You thought for a second before hearing an almighty crash from the kitchen, and from down the hallway you saw an entire loaf of bread fall to the ground, followed by a small army of mice. Again, you let out a scream as Crowley slammed the door shut behind the both of you.

‘How fucking many are there now?!’ You exclaimed, turning to face Crowley who was now quickly shifting between his feet. He suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

‘Look Y/N, tell me quick, do you have a phobia?’

‘Of mice? I think that’s pretty evident Crow-‘

‘No, of snakes. Are you scared of snakes?’

‘What is it with you and these snakes?’ You laughed. The demon then stood dead still and stared right at you.

‘Stay still. Don’t freak out please. I promise this will help.’

Before you knew it, Crowley’s hands had disappeared off your shoulders and he seemed to disappear entirely from before you. Confused, you looked down at the floor.

What you saw took your breath away for what felt like forever.

Rows and rows of black scales suddenly lined your hallway, flowing from side to side as the form made its way towards the kitchen. This didn’t take long, considering the snake’s body seemed to run on forever, there must have been at least 10 metres of the creature occupying your apartment.

You’d never really considered Crowley’s powers before. While you were aware that he was a demon, this thought didn’t control your every interaction with him. He was just Crowley- your friend Crowley- your possibly more than a friend Crowley- your Crowley. Shapeshifting had never been part of the picture.

But it was so, so beautiful.

Moving.

And snakes were never your favourite but this was just something else.

Squeals of mouse terror came from the kitchen as a massive shadow rose up throughout the whole apartment. Crowley was sitting up on his body, his head pointed towards any mouse that he could detect and a razor sharp stare in his luminescent eyes.

Your favourite part of this whole scenario was laying on the floor in front of you- Crowley’s sunglasses, sans Crowley for the first time ever. You smiled as you bent down to pick them up, your feet planted to the spot due to the inherently overwhelming nature of what was happening. You ran your fingers over the frames feeling the heat that was stored in them.

There was something so human about the lingering warmth to the metal, but that thing that made it so distinctively Crowley was the fact that the heat never seemed to fade.

The floor seemed to move as the scales once again shifted, with Crowley turning round to come back towards you. Cold fear seized your entire body, despite the oddly comforting and protective energy of this gigantic creature. His yellow eyes were right in front of your face before you’d even managed to properly react to him moving towards you.

You blinked and the Crowley that you knew and … ahem… was standing in front you, a live mouse swinging from his hand by the tail.

‘Consider those rodents dispatched.’

The mouse in his hand was thrashing wildly from side to side and while you hated the little shits, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. You went to protest but no words came out of your mouth.

You’d just witnessed something- something that couldn’t exactly be described as a miracle but to you- maybe?

Crowley noticed the panic in your eyes directed towards the mouse and realised what he needed to do. The mouse disappeared in another of your blinks.

There were so many pressing questions on your mind, but you only managed to actually articulate one of them.

‘Please tell me you didn’t eat those mice, Crowley?’ Your tone was somewhere between intrigue and massive concern.

The demon scoffed, ‘I prefer oysters normally, Y/N. No, I didn’t eat them. I can assure you though, they won’t be back any time soon.’

Palpable silence hung between the two of you. You naturally seemed to hold out Crowley’s sunglasses to him, staring directly into the eyes which served as a reminder of his other form as you did so.

Crowley went to slowly take the glasses off you, but in a snap decision, you snatched them back. Crowley wasn’t exactly thrilled by this.

‘Hey, don’t play games with those. They’re my-‘

He didn’t stand a chance of finishing his sentence before you jumped in, with your subconscious mind taking a grasp on your mouth. Maybe this was a trick of Crowley’s, but at least some of it came from your heart.

‘Do it again. Turn back.’

The two of you stared at each other as a smirk took over the demon’s face.

‘Really? It seemed to terrify you, dearest.’

The cockiness in his voice only persuaded you to carry on pushing.

‘Not at all! No no, it was just... well it was a shock at first. Obviously. Like who the hell else can do that? But no, not terror. It’s intrigue. I swear.’

You made sure to assert yourself in your voice as your brain convinced you that you would never rest again unless Crowley turned back into a snake. It was almost like the sheer shock had morphed into utter obsession in a matter of seconds.

And maybe you just adored every part of Crowley and him being vulnerable in showing a new side to you? Well...

Again, you blinked and he was gone for a moment, before the black reptile rose up to meet your gaze. He hadn’t continued to question you.

The presence was unexplainable, physically so big in the space but even just the idea of him just seemed to fill up every corner of the place. Moving the sunglasses into your right hand, you tentatively raised up your left.

‘Can... may I? Can I touch?’ You softly asked, mimicking a petting action in the air. Somehow, Crowley let you know that it was okay, pulling your hand towards him with some kind of magnetising energy.

Your fingers lightly brushed the scales on his head and you took a breath so deep you almost triggered hiccups. The texture was confusing, it almost seemed like it was shifting forms by the second- smooth then rough, hard then feather soft, but still always cool as marble. You fully rested your hand down as you glanced along the entire body, once again filling up the entire hallway.

‘Crowley, this is beautiful. I mean that.’ You whispered, transfixed on what you were seeing.

Then, the unimaginable happened. Your hand which had ended up resting on the snake’s head suddenly felt warm.

Was... was he blushing? You decided to test the water slightly more.

‘I didn’t even imagine that anything could be so magnificent but, well. Here you are. So gorgeous.’

Sure enough, another flush felt through your hand.

‘Crowley, are you blushing?’ You giggled. The heat on his face then took another rise, this time enough to hurt you slightly. You drew your hand away instinctually, but with a smile still on your face.

This was now a day worth noting. The day that started with a mouse in a bread bin and some unfortunately placed anger, and ended as the day that you made a snake blush.

And of course, he made you blush too.

A new side of Crowley. One that you couldn’t help but adore.

#good omens one shot #good omens #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #snake crowley #good omens fanfic #reader insert

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

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

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

#daniela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #avaskian caldwell #cliffhanger #sorry folks #not beta read

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spn-romantica · 4 years ago

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So I watched SPN for years, right up until the end of S11, when they brought back Mary. I heard that S15 would be the last season, and I was like ‘oh ok I’ll rewatch (for like the 8th time) and finish SPN then’ BUT THEN 15x18 happened and I was violently pulled back into the SPN fandom. I still haven’t caught up fully watching yet, but I’ve read so much discourse now...and I have thoughts. Hypotheses currently. I’ll wait to finish the whole show for real to call any of this theories but, I wanted to record my thoughts.

They’re about Chuck. As a villain. Which weirds me out. As an antagonist? Sure. As evil? No. Can’t envision it. I just finished my rewatch of S5 and, damn, but if Chuck is the ultimate villain, S5 reads very differently. :0

But I recently saw a post comparing Dean’s reaction in 1x18 (I believe) to his in 10x05 (for sure) about when someone mentions his mother’s death. In 1x18, it’s Sam when they were children and Dean gets angry. In 10x05, it’s a group of high school girls and Dean just bops his head along to the song. The post was framing it as 10x05 not understanding Dean’s thoughts about his mother, but I think that both episodes understand Dean. When Dean is a child, the trauma over his mother’s murder is still fresh. By 10x05, the event is 70 years in the past. Of course it still affects Dean. Of course. You never really get over something like that. But I’d argue that after 70 years, Dean has moved through the stages of grief to acceptance. It still hurts, but like an old ache, not a fresh, still-bleeding wound.

Interestingly, 10x05 is when we see Chuck, after a long absence. He’s watching the play, probably happy that someone loves his work enough to even make a musical, but he is also watching the Winchesters. The actual episodes of the show, aka the books Chuck writes, are what Chuck knows/cares about regarding the Winchesters. Despite being God, I’d argue he doesn’t pay attention to every second and all the little minutia of the boys’ lives. So, here in 10x05, we have confirmation that Chuck is around to see that Dean has healed from his mother’s death.

Later, in S11, Dean acts as therapist/life counsellor to Chuck/God, regarding Amara and Lucifer. And it works! Dean teaches God about family and about healing. Why does God listen to Dean Winchester, a random human? Perhaps it is because of S1-5. Perhaps it is because Dean and Sam were part of God’s test, as God himself describes it in 5x22.

What was the test? Was it God’s experiment about choice and free will? About freedom vs peace? Or, perhaps, was God trying to understand sibling relationships? He and Amara are two faces of the same coin. They are siblings, but with very different outlooks and it caused a rift between them, caused Chuck to seal Amara away before she could destroy his creations. Chuck regretted this, but saw it as a necessary betrayal. But then, some time later, Chuck’s angelic children experience their own betrayal and sibling rift. Lucifer tries to turn the angels against God, rebel and reject God. He makes demons, for sure, and maybe even Hell. But why? God figures that Lucifer was maybe jealous of the new baby (humans) like others in the show postulates. Or maybe Lucifer had beef specifically with Michael, because humans are little more than amoebas from an angelic perspective. Aside from Castiel, Anna and a handful of other angels, angels consistently view humans as humans might view dust mites. Maybe humans were the cause of the rift between Michael and Lucifer, but it was Michael and Lucifer’s relationship that needed fixing in the end, regardless.

So God is left with the sad conclusion that maybe close siblings will inevitably betray each other and be unable to forgive and heal. He wants to heal with Amara. But he also wants Michael and Lucifer to be able to heal. (It doesn’t occur to God that maybe Lucifer’s problem was never with humanity or Michael; it was with God.)

So God has research to do, to see if it’s possible for siblings to experience such deep betrayal and still heal. He turns to his little hairless apes, the only sentient species on Earth with potential to parallel the angels. He starts testing siblings. Cain and Abel are first up. Needless to say, but the betrayal was too strong and left no room for healing. But on down the line of Cain, God continues testing. Eventually, we come to Sam and Dean.

God has scheduled Michael and Lucifer’s family counselling session for 2010. All the data up to this point says it can only end badly. Maybe it’ll half-kill the Earth, but it’s finally time for Michael and Lucifer to meet and for one of them to die. God isn’t happy about this conclusion, but it’s what the data says. So, finally, the last test subjects, the last in the line who will be the vessels for Michael and Lucifer’s showdown, arrive. Sam and Dean Winchester are to be the last sibling test. The conclusion seems foregone at this point, but there is no point in cancelling the last bit of the test after so long, so it continues. God watches. And Sam and Dean surprise God. Siblings after siblings had failed for millennia to heal. Betrayals too strong, healing too little, too late. But Sam and Dean. no matter how badly they hurt each other, find a way to come back together and heal. They don’t give up on each other, despite millennia of data to the contrary. Still, the angels and demons push and push at Sam and Dean until their rift is as wide and as deep as Michael and Lucifer’s, as God’s and Amara’s (in late S4). It seems, despite the brothers’ best efforts earlier on, it’s all for naught.

But there is a further element of randomness, something God couldn’t foresee. Castiel. God hasn’t had occasion for romantic love in his own experience, so he is entirely blind to what choices Castiel is likely to make. He provides an element of randomness to the experiment, an essential part that gives Dean the ultimate chance to go back to Sam and begin to heal (4x22).

Throughout S5, Sam and Dean heal. There is hurt, still, of course, but they love each other and forgive each other. By 5x22, they’ve surprised everyone. Even the angels have given up on turning them against each other, and have shrugged and settled for using Nick and Adam as the vessels for the showdown. Sam and Dean passed their test. They were siblings who betrayed each other and healed from it. God reconsiders how family counselling will go with Michael and Lucifer. He figured it would be the Apocalypse, the end of the problems between Michael and Lucifer, as one of them dies, as had always happened before. But, Sam and Dean showed God, that though it is rare, it is possible to heal. So God gives Sam and Dean an out. He gives Sam the strength to seize back control from Lucifer, should things go south.

Finally, the showdown arrives. Michael and Lucifer meet. They talk things out. To God’s surprise, Lucifer reveals that he never had a problem with Michael. He had forgiven Michael long ago. But Michael couldn’t forgive Lucifer. He had to be a ‘good son’ and do what he thought God wanted him to do. But Michael didn’t realise, that God doesn’t give orders. Free will all the way, baby! But the whole thing comes as a surprise. Apparently, all this time, the problem relationship wasn’t siblings, it was parents.

Oops.

Good thing God had a back-up plan.

Sam throws himself and Lucifer (and Michael and Adam) into the Cage. Michael and Lucifer have an eternity to figure things out between each other now. But that’s beside the point. The point is, now, that God has to start testing all over again. Not how to fix sibling relationships, but how to fix parent-child relationships.

God restores Castiel, perhaps for a few reasons because God exists outside of time, but originally it may have been just for one. He likes Castiel. He is impressed that Castiel invented free will for himself, broke free of angelic programming (multiple times over), and did it all for love. It’s novel. It’s interesting. God might even think it’s sweet. But God has had time later, and thought about it, and he has a plan. And Castiel is essential.

But Dean Winchester is the key.

Sam and Dean’s relationship with their own father has been strained, but both boys find a way to forgive John his flaws and failings, and love him. Whenever they do get a chance to see him again, post his death, they don’t hate him. They’ve healed. John’s relationship with Sam and Dean is one point of data, Abraham and Isaac another. There are many data points that God can reflect back on and consider.

But as S6 through S10 roll on, God watches Sam and Dean and Castiel. He even watches Crowley and Rowena for another data point. Dean is his main focus, however. (This is a little meta, but as the story focuses more on Dean than Sam post S5, it ties in. Prior to S6, both Sam and Dean were essential - the sibling test. Now, post S5, the parent test, Dean is the most essential. Of course, Sam and Castiel are important too. But Dean is key.)

Dean is a good father. He was a good father to Sam, even when he was only 6 years old himself. He was a good father to Ben. He was willing to die for Bobby John. He’s always good with kids. Not only that, but Dean is blunt enough, brave enough, and crazy enough to tell God to God’s face what he thinks. God needs Dean’s advice, his perspective and opinion on family relationships, but he also needs to see what Dean would do if he were in God’s shoes.

[Edit (1/04/21): After seeing Michael and Lucifer (mostly) heal, and after seeing Sam and Dean heal their relationship, God finally has hope for him and Amara. So God logically wants to retrieve Amara from her prison. But how? Well, he could just wander on up to Cain and do it himself, but what would Amara say? “So I see you’ve come crawling back, eh, Chucky?” She wouldn’t be impressed with God. She wouldn’t understand, because she’s hopeless too. SO how to give her hope? How to make her see that she and God can be okay again? Why, stick her near Dean Winchester, of course! So God sets things up for Dean to get and lose the Mark of Cain, thereby ensuring that Amara will feel a connection to Dean and stick around him/keep him alive long enough for Dean to work his life-coach magic.]

In S11, God and Amara heal their relationship because of the hope Sam and Dean gave God, and also the direct advice Dean gives God. God and Lucifer, not so much.

God needs more data. He needs to see what Dean would do. In comes Castiel’s relevance. God sets things up so that Lucifer can have a son. A nephil. Jack. And God points Castiel in Jack’s direction, trusting Castiel’s ability for unconditional love to keep Jack alive long enough for the experiment. Castiel becomes Jack’s father. But Castiel will never betray Jack, the way God betrayed Lucifer. And, besides, Castiel isn’t the target of this experiment. But it is Castiel’s relationship with Dean Winchester that provides the link needed to get the experiment rolling.

Because Jack is Castiel’s son, he is therefore Sam and Dean’s nephew. Except, God has been watching Castiel and Dean. And, frankly, their romantic love for each other is so obvious even God cannot miss it. Through Castiel, Dean sees Jack as his son too. He loves Jack, exactly like a son. In this way, Dean parallels God, and Jack parallels Lucifer.

But God knows Dean would not easily turn on any child, let alone his own child. So God had a plan for that too. One that Amara helped him with.

They brought back Mary Winchester.

Mary is the one person in existence whose loss would hurt Dean enough to spur him to action. So, she was brought back to die. It was a matter of only a few years of gentle prodding to get everything in position. Jack causes Mary’s death. Dean is faced with a horrible decision. If Jack can kill Mary, what’s to say that Sam and Castiel wouldn’t be next? Mary’s death is like everything beginning all over again for Dean as well. Her first death set off a chain reaction, a series of unfortunate events that spanned decades and nearly caused the ruination of not only Dean’s life, but Sam’s and John’s and even the world. That scar, which had healed as well as it could after 70 years, that God saw was healed in 10x05, has been violently opened up again. It’s the only thing that could force Dean’s hand, that could get him to betray Jack and try to kill him. If Jack had killed Sam or Castiel, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Both Sam and Castiel had died and come back so many times, and while it would hurt Dean and make him doubt Jack, their deaths would be a sacrifice that Dean would feel obligated to respect, to give Jack a second chance like they would both want. (And God has been laying the groundwork for Dean, convincing him that Jack is evil, will be evil like Lucifer, can’t be allowed to live. All things God has thought about Lucifer over time. Was Lucifer inherently evil? Was their rift inevitable?)

So, here it is. The big test. Will Dean kill Jack? Will he betray Jack and cause an unhealable rift? Or will he find a way to heal, like he did with Sam against all the odds?

And, once again, Dean impresses God. He refuses to kill Jack.

But now we’re in the endgame. Sam, Dean and Castiel are aware that Jack’s life was only on the line because of God. It’s not something they can forgive, or understand. They’re all God’s guinea pigs, and while he loves his guinea pigs, he knows he’s hurt them in the name of science, of knowledge. or healing, and God can’t undo what he’s done. Free will is linear, after all. So it is time for the Winchesters, Castiel and Jack included, to be done with God. God is done with them, too. It’s time for them to be free and at peace. The experiments are done. God has decided not to kill Lucifer. He has decided to try to heal. He can get Lucifer out of the Empty and talk and try to fix things. He has forever to fix things, now that he knows he can. (The last element of this, Jack forgiving Dean for trying to kill him, is something I have limited knowledge of, but I am under the impression happens so... To be added in the edit once I finish the series.)

But the only way the Winchesters will be able to rest, is if they think God, the last and greatest villain, is out of the way. They know they’ve been manipulated their whole lives, first towards the sibling experiment and now the parent experiment, so they need to think God is gone so they can feel secure in their free will once more. Truthfully, God never took their free will. He set them up in situations, maybe even gave a bio-chemical nudge of anger (Dean) or attraction (Sam and Eileen) every now and then. But the choices were always theirs. Still, God knows they won’t see it that way. So he sets things up so that they can defeat him.

He lets them win. He wants them to win. They cannot defeat God, after all. It’s not God’s time, and Death is the only one who can claim God in the end, as the two embrace as friends and walk to the next existence. But the Winchesters need this, and so God allows it. A last gift, to the beings who have been such help, hope and inspiration to him.

With an eye for an eventual S16, 15x20 is written to be ‘an ending’ but also one that could easily be reframed as a bad dream.

For example...

Unfortunately, after Jack, suped up on a extra Grace God lent him, restores the Earth and expends all the Grace (”giving up the mantle of God so that their is no God, no plans, only Free Will”), and Dean, Sam and Jack head back to the Bunker to regroup and gather the ingredients to do the spell to rescue Castiel from the Empty, they’re jumped by monsters who are angry with how much God has fucked with them on behalf of the Winchesters. 15x20 is all a djinn dream Dean is trapped in.

16x01 is Dean waking himself up from the djinn dream, Sam and Jack escaping their own monsters, and then the end of 16x01 is Dean saying something about waking Castiel up from his own dreams in the Empty. The rest of S16 sees the boys save Castiel, reunite with Eileen, start a monster-hunting Bobby Singer/Men of Letters-esque organisation, Dean and Castiel getting together and getting married on Valentine’s Day, Jack getting to live a normal life, going to school, making friends, etc.

If their is no S16 ever (which would be criminal), then 15x20 makes no sense, unless it is plainly a recount of an old, hopeless ending written by God. However you spin it, 15x20 is not the way it seems (like owls).

All things being said, God is an antagonist, but he’s not evil. He’s an asshole, sure, but he never once worked against the Winchesters, never bet against them, never tried to erase or end them. He wanted them to win. He wanted to see the fruits of free will be love, second chances, hope, forgiveness, healing, and happiness, not just betrayal, pain, selfishness, jealousy, disappointment, and hopelessness.

Why is the ending he shows Becky ‘hopeless’? Because God is. He has spent his long existence losing his most loved family members. Amara, Lucifer. How can things end well for God, when they can’t even end well for humans? But Sam and Dean defy the script, again and again. They surprise God, defying the statistics, defying the hypotheses, throwing the experiment into disarray. Giving God hope. Sam and Dean were okay. Dean and Jack were okay. If God had a romantic love, he would find hope from Dean and Castiel being okay. But when God wrote the book he showed Becky, he was writing what he thought would happen. In the end, surely, not even Dean can be enough to hold Sam and Cas and Jack together. But in the end, as we see, as God sees, he is proven wrong and he’s happy to be wrong. He’s hopeful. And he can leave Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack, and all the angels and all the humans, to rule the Earth and the Heavens. He doesn’t need to learn anything more from them, so he heads to the Empty, with Amara, with Lucifer, with Death (Billie or not, Death is there for God in the end), and they can all depart for a better existence of their own.

If you read all of this, thanks! I eagerly anticipate watching the remaining 10 seasons so I can come back and edit the heck outta this, but until then, if y’all have any thoughts, I’d be interested to hear them~

TLDR: God is a morally bankrupt scientist and the Winchesters are his guinea pigs, but he’s not evil and he does love his guinea pigs, even if he could really treat them nicer.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #god #chuck #amara #lucifer #mary winchester #destiel #deancas #this is what i get for living on spn tumblr in a post s15 world while rewatching s5 and having memories ranging from hq to 8bit about s1-s11 #be kind i haven't finished my rewatch/finished the show so i probably have stuff wrong #what if god isn't evil just has no inherent moral compass because he has to teach himself everything #and he's taken to using the winchesters as his guinea pigs/life counsellors

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