our beloved summer (05) | jjk
You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn't as strong as you thought.
pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader
genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, crying, Sad Boy JK Hours ??, valentino!yoongi bc that should be a whole warning 🥵 even though he's there and not really there for literally 2 seconds lol
rating: PG-15
word count: 9.5k
note: this is the most stressed out i've ever been while trying to post a fic 💀 argh anyway, 2 obs updates in one month ?? is this even real life !! consider this a (lunar) new year's present from me to everyone who celebrates it and also to everyone who doesn't !! idk i'm bad at notes and i'm delirious so that's it 😗
series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist
— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
Hey, I feel like if we gave it one night
You'd hate me less and make it alright
Just wish that we could fight now
I'd hold you on the comedown
Rockland - Gracie Abrams
One thing about you, is that you don’t do well with change.
After you moved out of the first apartment you got as an adult, you constantly went back to your old neighborhood even though it wasn’t close to your new place. You kept walking those familiar streets, kept shopping at the stores where the workers knew your name. At night, you still pictured yourself living there, with all of your furniture and clothes and decorations that you’ve already emptied from those old bones. Then, you imagined what the new tenant was like, if they could feel the lingering love you had for that apartment. You wondered if they were putting the coffee table you left behind to good use, or if they thought that it looked out of place among all of their belongings and had already thrown it away.
Jimin called you weird for that, but he didn’t know that you always leave a piece of yourself everywhere you go. The biggest pieces, you think, are hidden somewhere in a closet in your childhood bedroom where your mother still lives, and in the tiny space of your dorm room where you spent most of your college years.
It took you more than half a year to finally start considering your new apartment home.
Because you hate change. Change is scary. Change is walking into a pitch-black tunnel with no flashlight, not knowing what awaits you in the darkness and not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side.
That isn’t to say that change is inherently bad. You’ve experienced good changes before. Arguably, Jungkook was a good change when he went from someone you couldn’t tolerate, to the love of your life back then. You were happy with him, so blissfully happy that for a while, you forgot what it was like to experience any other emotion.
Yoongi has always been your friend. It didn’t take you two very long to become well acquainted with one another and from there, develop a good friendship. You have never thought of him as anything other than a friend. Even when he was your boss, he still felt more like a friend.
As you sit next to him in a bar too empty for your liking – but seems right for a Tuesday night – you feel a palpable shift between the two of you.
When your phone vibrates with a notification, you glance at it only to exhale annoyedly – unclear whether this frustration is directed toward yourself, or the person blowing up your mobile; maybe it’s both. That’s the nth message that Jungkook has sent you in the last couple of hours, and you don’t need to read it to know that it’s probably another iteration of the same apology. How many different ways are there to say “Hey, I’m sorry for fucking the receptionist and then having the balls to tell you that you’re the unprofessional one when you didn’t even do anything.” Apparently a lot, because the texts just keep coming.
“Jungkook again?” Yoongi asks from beside you. Fuck. You’ve mostly been silently moping since he brought you here, too enmeshed in your own web of muddled thoughts that you forgot he’s someone you need to make amends with too.
You give him a nod but still continue to stare at the drink in front of you, trying to disentangle your Yoongi thoughts from your Jungkook ones.
Taking a sip of your drink, your face manages to keep a grimace at bay as the liquid ambushes your tastebuds. You don’t like whiskey, but you need something to hate more than yourself tonight. When you set the glass down, the alcohol sloshes around like a compact sea of your own amber-colored miseries.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “This is unfair to you. I don’t know what came over me. I just want you to know that this isn’t me responding to…” To your confession.
“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I have to stop you right now.”
“Yoongi…”
“I’m not saying that you can’t turn me down, although I hope you don’t do that,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying that whatever you do, whether you give me a chance or reject me, I want you to decide after you’ve really thought about it, about me.”
You can’t say no to that; it’s only fair. Yoongi knows what he deserves. You haven’t looked at him in any other way, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. Didn’t you say it yourself, that maybe you should start putting yourself out there? Well, here is someone coming to you before you even have to look anywhere. You may not have expected Yoongi, but then, you didn’t expect Jungkook either.
Yoongi could be the good change you need.
Nevertheless, you want to tell him you’re sorry for the other night. It should be fairly simple, but the words have a hard time dislodging themselves from your throat.
“I’m sorry about what I said that night at dinner… and what I did…”
Yoongi props an elbow on the bar top and leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Remind me what it is that you did again?”
“Come on, I’m serious.” You are grateful that he’s trying to keep it light, though.
“I’m serious too. I seem to have forgotten.”
“Yoongi…”
“Yes, Y/N?”
You sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily. Recalling the moment makes you flush with embarrassment, bringing a splash of color to your cheeks which Yoongi always seems to enjoy.
In a quiet voice, you say, “I’m sorry for throwing salt at you…”
“You threw salt at me!” He tips his head back, laughing freely. The bartender spares you two a glance at the sudden disruption. “You shouldn’t go around throwing salt at people!”
“Stop laughing! I’m trying to apologize.” You punch his arm out of habit and for a second there, you forget that your relationship with Yoongi isn’t the same anymore. Changed forever.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jeez, why are you so violent?” He rubs the spot where you hit him, muttering under his breath something about him bruising like a peach. “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”
“Okay, good. But I still want you to know that if you were expecting anything from tonight…”
Yoongi ruffles your hair with a scoff. “I’m not that dense. Of course I’m not expecting anything.” When you peer at him with curious and unsure eyes, he continues, “Y/N, earlier you looked like you wanted to set the place on fire and Jungkook looked like he was about to shit himself. Tonight, I’m just a friend who’s here for you if you want to vent. We’re just two buddies having a drink, that’s all.”
He makes it sound so simple, while your brain is already going haywire.
Despite yourself, you chuckle at his words. You tell him how much you appreciate it, though you don’t really tell him anything about what happened this afternoon, just that Jungkook said some stuff that pissed you off. You can’t tell him exactly what Jungkook did to anger you without alluding to the confession for which Yoongi is letting you off the hook for now.
“Do you wanna come with me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks.
“Come with you where?”
“I have a shoot with Valentino in the morning.”
“You have a photoshoot not even 12 hours from now and you’re here drinking? Aren’t you gonna wake up puffy or something?”
“Yeah, my manager would kill me if she knows what I’m doing,” he replies casually, like his manager has a telepathic connection with him and she can sense him mocking her over a drink. When people see Agust D, they tend to only see the icy exterior that he dons. That tough, maybe even callous, image has sustained him in the entertainment industry for years. For many, Agust D seems intimidating and unapproachable. That’s how you felt when you first met him too. But after a while, you got to see Min Yoongi, and Min Yoongi is nothing if not warm and tender-hearted, even if he’s a little shit sometimes. At least, that’s what he has always been like to you. “She thinks I’m getting my beauty sleep right now.”
You lightly snort at that, telling him, “Yeah, you need it.”
When you start to yawn, Yoongi calls a driver to drop you off at your place. The ride is mostly silent, because you’re tired and because you’re not sure what to say to Yoongi in the presence of a stranger taking you home. The car pulls up to your building soon enough, and before you can step out and tell him goodnight, he offers to walk you up. He takes the elevator with you to your floor, how gallant but unnecessary. When you reach your door, you wonder whether you should invite him in for a glass of water or something. If this was a week – or even just a couple of days – earlier, you would’ve had no reason to hesitate. He doesn’t ask if he can come in but instead takes one of your hands.
“I see you’ve been giving yourself some TLC. They’re a lot better now,” he comments, smoothing his thumb over your skin. You’ve been diligent with your hand care routine since he gave you that lotion. It feels nice, and it smells amazing. Besides, your hands were starting to hurt anyway.
Silence descends upon the two of you as you become aware of Yoongi touching you, and the weight of the answer you’ve yet to give him. He must feel you stiffen, because he lets you go and smiles.
“Relax, princess. Get some sleep, you’re the one who needs it. I said I’ll let you think about it, didn’t I? Stop stressing so much.” His index finger taps your cheek playfully, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The wink that he tacks on makes you roll your eyes. You watch Yoongi make his way to the elevator, step in and press the button for the ground floor. He maintains eye contact with you as he waits for the doors to shut, and you don’t think you’ve really noticed before how Yoongi carries himself with such confidence and poise even when he’s off-camera. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s… kind of attractive.
You can’t even fish around in your bag for your keys, you just stand there because he keeps your gaze trained on him. His eyes are alluring even under the shitty lighting of your building’s elevator. Before the lift closes, his voice carries over from the metal box to your door, and you don’t know if it’s the echo of his low timbre in the empty hallway that makes you shiver, or if it’s just Yoongi.
“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?”
One week. This is a record for you and Taehyung.
You’re still baffled by his attitude that night, and no one has cleared anything up for you. He was right, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You stand by your initial reaction. Could anyone really blame you for that? In your defense, who the fuck could believe that a worldclass megastar has romantic feelings for them? Not to mention that the person whom the megastar in question has feelings for is you! You, the pathetic girl who can’t seem to get over her ex. Yoongi had to sit through a whole hour of you drunkenly crying over Jungkook, for fuck’s sake!
That really wasn’t your best moment, but it’s not like you even remember it anyway.
Your phone buzzes to life with Jimin’s face taking over the whole screen – a photo of your hand squishing his full cheeks until his lips jut out. “Hey Minnie,” you greet him once you’ve swiped to accept the call.
“Y/N,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”
“I’m at home. Where are you? Are you doing pull-ups again? You know you practically hyperventilate when you do more than 3.”
“Shut up, I’m at dance practice. But listen, have you talked to Tae yet?”
You purse your lips at the mention of his name. “No. We’re supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow like we always do, but I guess that won’t be happening.”
Jimin hums, like he’s in thought. He doesn’t speak again until his breathing has calmed. “Well, can you go to his place right now?”
“Why?”
“He’s sick and I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t answered my messages.”
You frown. “Tae’s sick?”
“Yeah, he must’ve caught a cold the other day. Could you go over there and check on him? I would go but I can’t leave for another few hours.”
You agree to go, because of course you would. Even if you’re stubborn and hot-headed, no amount of pettiness could make you ignore your friends especially when they’re unwell and need somebody. Especially when it’s Taehyung who’s been there for you so many times.
You stay on the call with Jimin for another ten whole minutes even after you have said you would go, because he keeps droning on and on about how shitty Taehyung looked yesterday.
Before you go to your best friend’s apartment, you stop by your regular diner to pick up some comfort food for him, and the pharmacy for some medicine. During the rest of the drive there, you start getting a little worried. When Taehyung takes care of a sick you or Jimin, he practically goes into full mama bear mode, making sure that you’re as comfortable as humanly possible and not leaving your side until you’re a functional human being again. But when it comes to his own wellbeing, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be that concerned. It’s not that he neglects his health, but you wish that he would show himself the same kindness that he shows you.
It feels weird to use the spare key that you have to his place, considering that you aren’t really on speaking terms. In hindsight, it feels so childish. How old are you to still be pulling the silent treatment on each other?
You ring the doorbell and wait a couple minutes until you hear Taehyung shuffling to get the door from the other side. When it swings open, he tenses up a bit, not expecting to see you at all. His hair is damp; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Taehyung doesn’t look as bad as Jimin described though. Just some dark circles under his eyes.
You raise a hand and wave. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he parrots somewhat awkwardly. It’s understandable; neither of you thought you’d be the one to break the ice. “What are you doing here?”
Bringing your other hand up, you show him the bag you’re holding. “Brought you soup and cold meds. Jimin said you’re sick.”
His brows knit together in confusion. “Thanks…” he says slowly, “but I’m not sick?”
“But Jimin said you caught a cold and you’ve been wheezing like a dying fisherman and–” You purse your lips, catching onto what’s really happening here. “He tricked me, didn’t he?”
Park Jimin…
Taehyung tuts under his breath, shaking his head at the ground. “Mhmm.”
“He could go into acting. He sounded really worried on the phone, like you were on the verge of death.”
“No, yeah, he really could,” Taehyung agrees. “Jimin is bizarrely good at lying sometimes. We should be worried about that.”
You laugh, and that makes him feel like the air is relaxed enough for him to laugh too. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re left staring at each other again. You hate it. You really, really hate it.
You thought that the universe sent you a sign, gave you a reason to come over and make nice with your best friend. Turns out that “the universe” is really just Park Jimin and his scheming tongue. But you’re already here, and you have to talk to him eventually. Jimin might have lied, but you would’ve just waited for Taehyung to reach out first to offer an olive branch anyway.
“Well, can I come in?” you ask. It’s weird that you even have to ask.
“Of course,” he says absentmindedly, stepping to one side to let you in. He takes the bag from your hand and brings it to the kitchen while you kick off your shoes and change into the pair of fuzzy bear slippers that he keeps for you here.
You want to tell him what happened as much as you hate admitting that you were wrong.
“Have you eaten?” you ask, a sad attempt at delaying what will inevitably come.
“No,” comes his simple reply.
“Should we eat? I bought enough for two people.”
“But I’m not sick.”
“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup.”
Taehyung looks at you like the thought has genuinely never crossed his mind. “Interesting… Okay, then.”
You put on an episode of your favorite show while he heats up the food. When you both sit down to eat, it’s mostly silent while the TV continues to play. The most you and Taehyung thing that you exchange in these 30 minutes is him saying soup tastes like shit when you’re not actually sick, and you telling him to stop being such a hater. When you both finish, Taehyung rinses the bowls and puts them in his dishwasher.
Before you came over, you thought you would only be making him eat, take his meds, and sit there for a bit while he sleeps. If you had known this would happen, you would’ve prepared yourself for it.
But then again, you were tricked into coming.
Ugh. Just do it. You are so freaking dramatic.
“Well,” you start, keeping your voice light and trying not to stand around like you’re out of place in his apartment, “you were right.”
“About what?” Taehyung asks, wiping his hands on a towel.
“About Yoongi and… all that.”
“Oh.” His expression is one you aren’t too familiar with. There’s surprise – yes, that you’re making peace with him – in the way his brows slightly lift, but there’s something else too. Something odd that you can’t quite put a finger on, and it makes you slightly uneasy because you don’t like it when you can’t read Taehyung.
He’s pretty quick to mask it, and it makes you even more conscious that there’s something he isn’t telling you. Of course, this feeling is miniscule, practically a seed compared to the blooming garden of nerves that the events of these past few days have dumped upon you, so you can’t categorize it as a high-level priority to nitpick. You need to deal with your main concerns first, aka what to do about Yoongi and Jungkook, both individually and together, and then you can begin to inspect what’s going on with Taehyung.
It all sounds so easy in theory.
Taehyung goes to the couch and you wordlessly follow. You sit down when he pats the spot next to him – your spot. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. “You know I don’t get to hear you tell me I’m right very often.”
Because you aren’t right very often, is what you almost say. It’s light and playful, and you both know it would diffuse the leftover tension, but you chuck the words aside in favor of something more serious. There isn’t that much to catch him up on, but there is a lot to unpack from the few things that did transpire over the last few days.
You give him a recap of what happened with Yoongi and subsequently what happened with Jungkook. Those are the two things weighing the most on your mind. You haven’t really processed anything; blame it on Yoongi for telling you that you have time to think things through.
One thing you love about Taehyung is that he doesn’t tell you what to do, but rather helps you sort things out on your own. Come to think of it, these conversations often take place on his couch. He’s like your own personal therapist at this point.
“Can you give me a hug?” You probably can’t ask a licensed therapist to do this, though.
He softens even more with a smile. Opening his arms, he says, “C’mere.”
You shuffle over to sink into his embrace. You sigh as you practically melt in his hold. Taehyung is a little bony, but hugging him feels exactly like hugging a giant teddy bear. He’s soft, and always knows how to hold you just tight enough, how to stroke your hair the way you like, how to be just the comforting presence you need amidst a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. And he smells like jasmine, though that might be because you keep deliberately gifting him colognes with scents that you like.
With your chin perched on his shoulder, you feel yourself start to relax, walls coming down if only briefly.
“You okay?” Taehyung asks after a moment.
You’re suddenly aware that you’re crying. You don’t know how it started, but now that the waterworks have begun, it seems like there’s no stopping. “No,” you sniffle. “Can I just…”
You feel him exhale. “Of course.”
Taehyung is one of the few people – oh who are you kidding? He might be the only one – whom you feel comfortable enough around to let yourself cry to your heart’s content.
You’ve been feeling it for days now, even before all that shit happened. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.
When it rains, it pours.
Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.
You miss clarity, or the illusion that you have any control over your life. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.
Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all.
Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so allconsuming that I can hardly see you underneath it?
It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.
But nobody does. They walk past you every day. They sit with you, smile at you and laugh with you. They leave you. They stay. They break your heart. Even when they love you, nobody sees you.
You love Taehyung, but you don’t think he understands. He knows you better than almost everyone in this world and he tries to help you in any way he can, but at the end of the day, maybe this isn’t something that a person can understand even if they want to. It’s worse, to realize that perhaps it isn’t because people don’t care enough to see it, but that no matter how hard they try, they can’t.
The only person who has ever come the closest is Jungkook, with his big doe eyes that always see through you and see into you. Sometimes, you think there might be parts of you that he could see but you still don’t. He knew things about yourself that you never want anybody to find out, and he loved you anyway. He went the lengths that nobody ever did because they all gave up after a while. Someone once told you that you felt like a fortress wall impossible to climb, that nobody had the time, the patience to wait for you. In other words, you weren’t worth it. Not worthless, just not worth the effort it would take to break down your walls.
But Jungkook showed up and tried, every day. The one person that you never saw coming. You might have resisted at first, but then you became his biggest supporter. You were rooting for him to know you, how fucked up is that? You were right there. He was so close.
And then he stopped.
You suppose that’s what makes everything awful now – to know that you should let go of him when he’s the only person who ever came that close.
You don’t know how long Taehyung has had to sit here, comforting you like this, but at one point, your stomach starts growling and you feel your best friend trying to hold back a giggle. Jungkook might have mastered the art of loving you, but Taehyung is an expert at comforting you.
“Shut up.” You wipe away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand and push Taehyung off. “Crying makes me hungry.”
“Should I order us fried chicken then?”
“And soju. Get some soju too.”
Jimin is a strategic trickster. There was no dance practice. He just ran around his apartment ten times until his breathing turned ragged, which if you ask anyone, was completely unnecessary. He’s very extra, but at least it was effective.
After he got off the phone with you, Jimin immediately went to your shared phone tracker app – today was one of those times where it proves to be the most useful. He stared at the little circle with a silly photo of you as it moved from your address to Taehyung’s with a couple pit stops along the way. Jimin giggled to himself when he saw your circle meet Taehyung’s, because at that point you two must have realized already that you’d been swindled. Of course, there was always a chance of you leaving the moment you figured out you had come all that way for no reason at all, but when Jimin saw after a couple of hours that the two circles are still next to each other, he knew that you and Taehyung made up already.
Jimin sends a message to your group chat, a simple hello but Taehyung knows what he’s trying to get at. The text thread shared by the three of you lights up with a selfie of you and Taehyung each holding a chicken drumstick and wearing a content smile. In the background, there are some soju bottles, a box of chicken and some fries.
Jimin doesn’t question why your eyes look a little puffier than usual. He just replies with a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. The triumph of his mini victory almost makes him forget that there’s someone else in his home.
Jungkook peeks over Jimin’s shoulder to peek at his phone, curious to see what’s making his friend so delighted. When he sees you and Taehyung on Jimin’s screen, he sinks again, heart sitting in the pit of his stomach. The words you told him just the day before ring loud in his ears, as if they haven’t been stuck on his mind, playing on a loop.
You’re such a fucking hypocrite.
You weren’t wrong, but man, did that feel like a punch in the gut.
He goes to sit across from Jimin, taking note of every single sound that notifies his friend of a new message. For the first time, he feels like an outsider, like he’s intruding on a private moment.
“I fucked up,” Jungkook admits quietly, cracking open a can of beer and taking a long sip. It makes Jimin look up and put away his phone. “With Y/N,” Jungkook clarifies.
“Yeah, I’ve been informed. That was the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while.”
“In a while? When was the last time I did something stupid?”
Jimin doesn’t even have to think about it. He answers right away, “When you left her.”
Jungkook hums, unclear whether the noise is meant in agreement or just in acknowledgment. His tongue darts out to swipe across his dry lips before he breathes out. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I feel like a fucking asshole.”
“From what I’ve been told, you were a fucking asshole,” Jimin says lightly, his words emphasized with a chuckle like he finds Jungkook’s predicament so funny. “I can’t believe you would say that shit about Yoongi to her right after he confessed.”
Cue a pregnant pause, and a pair of doe eyes staring right into Jimin’s skull, unable to decipher if what he’s hearing is a joke or not.
“Yoongi– what?”
Jimin slaps himself internally. Shit. It slipped, he swears. “Nothing,” he sighs, but he knows it wouldn’t be dropped so easily.
“No. Not nothing,” Jungkook sits up straight and puts his chilled beer down on the table, missing the coaster entirely just to piss off his friend. “The fuck do you mean Yoongi confessed? Confessed what?”
Jimin sighs with pursed lips. “What else? What do you think he confessed to?”
Jungkook gulps, and blinks a few times. When? Why? Was that the reason you looked so distraught yesterday before all that shit went down between you and him? Who confesses to someone in a freaking break room?
Then Jungkook remembers that you and Yoongi went out for drinks last night. What did he say? What did you say? His stomach churns at the thought of something… happening between the two of you.
Jimin takes in his friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Why are you shocked?” he asks. “I thought you expected something like this. Isn’t it why you spewed all that crap about Yoongi flirting with her?”
“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels like the guy is out to get me for some goddamn reason. I thought he was just playing with Y/N to piss me off!”
Jimin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Yoongi wouldn’t do that to her.”
“How would you know?”
“Because when they first worked together, from the things that she told us, the stuff that Yoongi would do for her, Taehyung and I thought he liked her back then too,” Jimin says. “This has nothing to do with you.”
It sucks. It fucking sucks.
“Should I go over there?” Jungkook asks, a newfound sense of urgency in his voice that borderlines panic. He’s acting like this fact that Jimin just dumped upon him is unraveling just as this conversation is taking place, but in reality, he’s one of the last people to know.
“And tell her what? If you’ve said sorry a million times and she hasn’t responded, then saying it one more time won’t change anything.”
“What am I supposed to do when I see her tomorrow?”
“Nothing? Are you incapable of leaving things alone? If she wants to ignore you, let her ignore you. If she wants to yell at you, let her yell at you. If she wants nothing to do with you, let her do that too. Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”
Jungkook runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “So your solution is for me to just let her hate me?”
Jimin levels him with a look, which just annoys him even more. “You had no problem with that before.”
“If you’re not gonna help me, should I ask Taehyung then?”
“Don’t go to Tae about this.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t,” Jimin snaps, and it makes Jungkook falter for a few seconds before the petulance in him clouds his better judgment.
“Why? He’s her best friend. They’re practically joined at the hip. He’s gotta be able to help me with this.”
“You really want to go to Taehyung for advice on how to suck up to your ex-girlfriend? He’s the most protective of her. What makes you think he would be willing to help you?”
“He’s my friend too, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he want to help all of us be civil with each other?”
“Yeah, he’s your friend. I’m your friend and Y/N’s too. And you’re right, all of us should get along, but we shouldn’t be put in a situation where we’d have to try. You did that to us and nothing is going to be the same again. I don’t even know why you did it. You kept your mouth shut for years no matter how hard me and Taehyung tried to get it out of you. Now you suddenly can’t make peace with the consequences of your actions? Now you want us to help you win over the person you fucked over, who is also our closest friend? I don’t get you, JK. I’m starting to regret not letting Taehyung punch you back then.”
Jungkook stares at his friend. Is this shock that he’s feeling? He still remembers that night, because he doesn’t forget a lot of things. He can’t forget it. He had never seen Taehyung – who is usually so calm and cordial – get that angry before. His friend, who is a saint of a man, felt so much rage toward Jungkook that Jimin had to physically hold him back.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks. “You’re not used to me not being on your side all the time?”
He knows that. The only person who seems to be on Jungkook’s side is himself, and sometimes he isn’t sure if this is even true at all. What you told him at the dance studio’s opening party, what Jimin is telling him now, and even the things that Taehyung shouted at him a couple of years back – it’s all true. He knows these things already, but it feels different to hear them from other people. You’re all right; nobody is overreacting. To an outsider, it might come across as harsh, but to anyone who knows anything, it’s rightfully deserved.
Nevertheless, Jungkook admits quietly, “Actually, yeah.”
Jimin sighs, because he knows that his friend has no malicious intent toward you or toward anyone. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t mean to hurt you, any more than he already has. Jungkook is even more crazed now that Yoongi is somehow a factor in all of this. It’s the insecurities bubbling at the surface. He’s panicking and he can’t even see straight. This is just his own stupid take on fight or flight. It was flight for a while, and now apparently it’s not. Jimin doesn’t really understand it, but he gets that this is his friend’s way of dealing with shit. “I tried, man. I did. But it’s really, really hard to have your back on this.”
Jungkook is well aware of it too – that to leave you alone is probably the best thing he can do at this point. Everything he says or does seems to backfire; instead of pulling you closer, all he manages to do is push you further away and make you hate him more than you already do.
But in a way, isn’t that a good thing? Better to have you hate him than be indifferent toward him. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate. You yourself blurred this line long ago. You can do it again, can’t you?
Jungkook sits there for a while longer to finish his beer, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear what Jimin’s stance on this is, and no matter what he says, it’s unlikely that anyone will help him try and get back in your good graces.
Before he leaves, Jimin says something that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fucking cry and kick something and speed over to your apartment just so you could reassure Jungkook that he’s still the one you hate the most. That all of your feelings, whether they’re good or bad, are still reserved for him and only him.
It isn’t what his best friend should tell him, but it’s what a good friend would say. It's not about Jungkook, it's not about Jimin or Taehyung or anyone else. It's about you, who has been hurt the most here.
“If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too.”
[10:48] Yoongi: Attachment: 2 Images.
[10:49] Yoongi: got yelled at for showing up puffy yesterday
You tap on the notifications and the photos pop up within seconds. It’s Yoongi at his Valentino shoot probably. He never used to send you stuff like this, nor asked you to come watch him at his photoshoots. Why would he?
You zoom in on his face to inspect if he really was puffy, but you can’t really tell. Maybe if you were a makeup artist with a sharper eye, you would see it. But under your regular-person gaze, everything seemed fine. Yoongi looked handsome in the pictures.
[10:55] You: you don’t look puffy to me
[10:57] Yoongi: so how do i look to you? ;)
[10:58] You: the fits look good
[11:01] Yoongi: i wasn’t asking about the fits
[11:05] You: and i’m telling you the fits look good anyway
[11:07] Yoongi: what about the model?
[11:10] You: are you fishing for compliments?
[11:11] Yoongi: what if i am?
[11:14] You: the model looks Not Puffy
[11:16] Yoongi: you’re no fun ;(
You consider your next reply for a moment. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal. You want to send it. It seems innocent enough, and it’s the truth. A simple praise can’t hurt, right?
Your fingertips tingle just typing the words out. You’re suddenly so jittery for some reason as your thumb hovers over the arrow symbol that would whoosh away your message. It's a good kind of jittery. You might even say that you’re excited.
[11:22] You: the model looks good too
You put your phone face-down on the table, not even checking when it vibrates with Yoongi’s response to your latest text. It’s so weird that you’re feeling like this, maybe because it’s been so long since someone has shown an actual interest in you? Or is it because it’s Yoongi? If it were anyone else, would you still react the same?
It’s weird, but not necessarily weird in a bad way. You just aren’t used to it, or it’s been such a long time that you forgot what it feels like to be… wanted? You don’t think about it often but it’s true, you’ve missed the thrill of being chased.
“So… word on the street is you have a secret song.”
Seokjin’s voice makes you glance up, wondering who he could be talking to when the only people in the room beside him are you and Jungkook – whom you haven’t spoken a word to all morning despite him glancing not-so-subtly at you every two seconds. When you got here this morning, there was already a chai latte on the table with your name on it. The order was too specific for it to be Seokjin, but you didn’t say anything.
“The street?” you ponder for a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Is that what Yoongi calls himself these days? He’s been here for what? A couple weeks? And he’s already blabbed to you.”
“So it’s true?” Seokjin leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yoongi said it’s real good. Top shelf kinda stuff. And you know he never says things like that.”
It’s not a song, or at least that isn’t what you would call it. Maybe more like an essay composed of sentences that go together like misfit puzzle pieces. You don’t think you would ever rework it and pitch it to anyone because it’s yours and it’s personal. You would never tell anyone about it, and Yoongi wouldn’t have come to know about its existence if he hadn’t stumbled across it in your journal by accident.
“Don’t listen to Yoongi,” you say. “At this point, I feel like you should know that Yoongi tends to exaggerate sometimes.”
“He never seems to be exaggerating when it comes to you,” Seokjin muses. You almost blush, thinking about what else Yoongi could’ve told Seokjin. He doesn’t notice the split second in which your cheeks redden just the slightest, or he doesn’t mind it enough to comment. “What’s the title?”
You shrug, saying nothing.
“You can’t even tell me the title? Damn, Y/N. Are you the CIA?”
“I’m not telling you because there is no title. There’s not even a song, just something I go back to sometimes. It’s mostly just word vomit. I promise you, it’s nothing.”
“Tell that to Yoongi. He told me whoever’s gonna get that song is one hell of a lucky bastard.”
Again, what is it with the praise? You know working with Yoongi and being associated with his last album gave your career a boost, but you weren’t aware that he was talking about you with other people. Maybe he only does it with Seokjin because they’re close, but still, it makes you itch with curiosity.
“By any chance are you gonna give it to… me?” Seokjin asks, and seems to immediately hear how flawed it sounds. You stare at him blankly, trying to bite back an amused smile, and even Jungkook turns his head to look too. Seokjin’s ears turn red in an instant. “Okay, that came out kinda wrong. I’m really, really sorry. But you know what I mean.”
You continue to stare at him until his face is so flushed, you swear he’s like a tomato that’s about to burst. You can see why Yoongi likes to tease people this way. “Okay, boss,” you acquiesce with a laugh, relieving Seokjin of the fear that he genuinely offended you. “If the song ever gets to see the light of day, I’ll make sure to ask you to lend your voice.”
“Ah, so you admit it’s a song.” He grins brightly at your empty promise, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly. He goes back to his normal shade in a minute, no longer ridiculously red like a cartoon character. “What’s it about?”
You ponder his question silently, missing the way Jungkook takes this moment to glance at you. When you look up again, he’s already averting his gaze.
What is it about? That’s a question that you yourself have never really considered. It’s about everything and it’s about nothing. It’s love, it’s loss, it’s the infinite in-between. You give Seokjin an answer that won’t satisfy him, but it’s the truth.
“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”
He tuts at you, like he was expecting the obscurity from you anyway. “You’re really not beating the CIA allegations,” he says.
You flip him the bird, which only compels him to stick out his tongue and make a face at you. Then, he diverts his attention to the person who hasn’t contributed anything this whole time.
“JK, why are you so quiet today? We’re not gonna eat you.”
Jungkook mutters something to Seokjin that you don’t quite catch because the words come out of his mouth like an inarticulate mess, which is so unlike him. He sounds jumpy, like he’s too nervous to speak in front of you. Seokjin’s eyes land on you again as he mouths a confused What?
You just shrug, and Seokjin has to take Jungkook’s weird response as him having an off day. The man checks his phone, lets out a quiet whine, then addresses the both of you. “I have a shoot this afternoon so you two will have to hold down the fort, by the way.”
You come back from your solo lunch date to an empty studio.
Well, almost empty. There’s something new that wasn’t there before.
Another chai latte waiting for you equates to another apology hoping to be acknowledged. The paper cup is still hot when your hand reaches out to touch it. You sink into your chair with a sigh. You could laugh at yourself for feeling so nostalgic at the sight of a beverage in the middle of a workday.
Jungkook walks in about 15 minutes later, and the air turns suffocating at his arrival. He feels it too, you know he does.
You chew on your bottom lip until it starts to hurt, bite down on it until it almost bleeds.
“Jungkook,” you say, catching his attention. It looks like he didn’t expect you to initiate any conversation. It’s not like you want to, but you have to. You keep having to do this, because he just wouldn’t listen. “Stop buying me drinks.”
It translates to: Stop saying sorry. Stop trying to make things right. Stop doing things you think would make me happy. Stop making me have the same argument with you over and over again.
“Because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says, and proceeds to repeat the one thing that you’re sick of hearing from him. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” you verbalize it. “If it’s not about work, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to hear it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You do need to hear it. Because I can’t function properly until you know how sorry I am.”
“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“Hear me out,” he says, sounding a little firmer now but you still catch the crack in his voice. “Please.”
Jungkook must take the way you hesitate to shut down him as reluctant permission for him to keep going, because he stands up and moves to a spot closer to you. Not close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but enough for you to see the tiny mole under his bottom lip and how it quivers when he looks at you.
Fuck. You’re letting him win again.
“Okay, fine. Talk then. I’m listening. You’re sorry, right? You keep saying you’re sorry for everything, but what exactly is everything? What are you even sorry about? Are you sorry about annoying me right now, or are you sorry about being a prick the other day, or are you sorry about leaving me five years ago? When did you become this pathetic, Jungkook?”
“W–what?”
“When did you become so pathetic?” you repeat. “If you had to come back, couldn’t you come back as someone better? Someone who’s sure of himself and has a good life, not this… person who has to grovel at my feet for forgiveness. Even when you were at your lowest, you weren’t like this. I don’t even know who this Jungkook is. What happened to you?”
If you think that you saw him at his lowest, then you’re wrong. He didn’t hit rock bottom until he’d left you and had to live with what he chose to do.
“You’re right. I am pathetic,” Jungkook agrees, dropping his gaze to the floor like he’s ashamed. “But fuck, I’m trying to be worthy of you.”
It’s a truth that he doesn’t want to face, doesn’t want to admit how very real it is until you’ve just said it and it fucking guts him. He knows his friends pity him sometimes, even if they don’t want to view him as someone to be pitied. No matter how much of a front he puts up, he knows that Jimin and Taehyung see right through him. They won’t say it to his face, and for that Jungkook has gotten away with avoiding this fact for so long. But to hear it from you, to watch you spell it out for him, it hurts.
He wants to mention Yoongi, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t immediately aggravate you. After all, bringing up Yoongi is what got him into this mess, isn’t it?
Regardless, he wants to ask you a question that he already knows the answer to. What does Yoongi have that he doesn’t? The answer is: A lot of things. Yoongi has a lot of things that Jungkook doesn’t, one of them being the self-assurance to not run away when it comes to you and what you deserve.
He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he’s scared it might drive you right into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook can’t compete with a man like that.
He can barely keep up even with just himself in the running.
There’s a big question mark that pops up in your head, along with a slight sting in your eyes that you blink away. You’ve never seen Jungkook like this before. This whole time, was it not only you who was miserable?
He looks so small that it breaks your heart. For once, you aren’t sad for yourself but you’re sad for him. It never occurred to you that he could’ve been lonely too, having to keep all of this inside because you know he didn’t share it with anyone else. You catch a glimpse of him again, like you did when you were making ramen together in your kitchen while a storm was raging outside. In a lot of ways, Jungkook is still that kid stuck in an adult’s body, lost and scared and loved you. It feels like you could’ve seen him in the same ocean while you were just trying to keep your head above water.
The sight of him, so vulnerable and astray, placates you. Your resolve crumbles, but not like it was ever that strong to begin with. You suppose you could see why he was being a jerk to you. Even though it doesn’t justify what he said, you understand just a little bit where he was coming from. You find yourself forgiving him for some of it. It’s part of letting things go, right?
But no matter how much you want to reach out and comfort him, you know you shouldn’t. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? You’re confused and it feels like you two have been going around in a circle, looking for a solution that doesn’t seem to exist.
Coexisting doesn’t work. Telling him to leave things alone doesn’t work. What else can you do?
Why do you have to resolve a problem that isn’t even yours? Jungkook says he’s trying, but his efforts keep making your life harder and harder. You practically blew up in his face, then apologized for being harsh even though you were fully aware that you had nothing to be sorry for. You called him a hypocrite and now you’re ready to cave just because he’s on the verge of shedding a few tears. This constant back and forth between your anger and your reluctance to see that anger through is possibly the thing that’s hindering you.
You can’t – and shouldn’t – accommodate him anymore. You have to put your foot down, no matter how difficult it is with the lingering ghost of your past love.
Because you’re always weak when it comes to Jungkook.
Because you’re still holding onto something.
Because Jungkook will always be the first person that you have ever loved, and those four years meant a lot to you even if they didn’t to him. Maybe it’s even fair to say that you might never truly get over it, and that doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Maybe he was never the person you thought he was, or maybe you never meant as much to him as he did to you. Somehow, that’s okay. It’s manageable because it’s routine at this point. You’ve internalized it. The years have taught you that sometimes, things get shitty just because they can and you just have to deal with it.
The intrinsic pain of the human experience. C’est la vie.
What a world this is.
Is it bad that you’re thinking about Yoongi in a moment like this?
Yoongi could be your future, if you’d let him.
You should let him. Maybe this is your answer right here.
“Jungkook, let’s stop.” He looks at you with crestfallen eyes, but you have to keep going. The only way out is through. “Let’s stop. You want me to listen to you, but you haven’t been listening to me. I don’t have the strength to keep this up anymore, and I have told you that repeatedly but you wouldn’t listen. Jungkook, move on.”
You pretend not to notice how his lip trembles even more. “What if I don’t want to move on?”
This feels like a conversation that should’ve happened ages ago. Five years ago, you should’ve screamed at him, cried with him, held each other as you both fell apart. He stripped you of that right and gave you no say at all.
“You’re being awfully selfish,” you tell him, but in your head, you’re already thinking about what his words actually mean.
“Have you completely written me off then? Is there nothing at all that I can do? Because I would do anything if you asked. You know that.”
Your throat is so dry that it feels like you’re swallowing sand. You dig everything back up again until you find the memory of that day hidden at the very bottom.
It’s terrible. He’s making you relive it again.
“I remember calling for you and you didn’t even look back,” you say, but your voice breaks toward the end. “I can’t trust you anymore.”
Jungkook just stares at you then, and for the longest time, neither of you say anything. This is the first time that you two have addressed the problem, properly addressed it instead of half-heartedly sweeping it under the rug like you tried to do.
You breathe in, he breathes out. You hate the way you feel, and you resent the way he looks like he’s breaking down just as badly. There are tears in those eyes, tears that Jungkook doesn’t let spill because he defiantly wipes them away with the back of his hand after a moment.
When he speaks next, you want the world to end.
“Then I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will.”
— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted january 21, 2023]
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[ene(?)mies to loverS] {FEM demon slayer& assassin reader}
R used to me an assassin that only killed the guilty and protected the inoccent but they quit after becoming a demon slayer.
shinobu is kidnapped by a crazy dude in the middle of the night but the triplets and AOI find out in the morning from a note with the ransom money. They ask reader for help and track her down and turns out the dude that kidnapped her is in a team who kills demon slayers? So R kills the whole group and gets shin out of there. some fluffy stuff pls
idk it just came up sorRy if it's too specific.
thanks byee
Abducted
Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader
A/N: Tried putting these two together because they had the same major plot point. And I kind of hinted to past enemies, but they are in the lovers stage for the majority of the fic. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! Word Count: 3,335
(Y/n) woke up in bed alone, which was not at all unusual with how busy Shinobu was. What was unusual, was the commotion that had woken her up. In a flurry of footsteps and distressed noise, the butterfly girls came bursting through the door, Kanao frantically waving a piece of paper in (Y/n)’s face.
“Hm? What? What’s going on?” (Y/n) was having a hard time in her groggy state keeping up with everyone speaking over each other with such concerning urgency.
Aoi took the paper from Kanao’s hand and shushed everyone before reading the letter verbatim, voice shaking.
“We have captured the Hashira Kochou Shinobu. She put up quite a fight, to prove we have her, find enclosed a lock of her hair. If you wish to ever see her alive again, you will bring five-hundred-thousand yen and twenty children with Marechi blood to the summit of Natagumo Mountain before sunset tonight, or else!” Aoi flung the paper into (Y/n)’s lap, “Shinobu-sama has been abducted!”
“What?” (Y/n) picked up the letter and re-read it to herself, “This can’t be happening…” she adjusted her hold on the paper and felt something silky on the other side. She flipped the paper around and inhaled sharply when she saw the lock of purple and black hair tapped to the back. She crumpled the paper and bolted to her feet. In a few quick strides, she tore open the closet, throwing a high mobility outfit and an array of sharp and pointy weapons of varying sizes onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” Aoi asked, her and Kanao pulling the younger girls out of the way as (Y/n) continued to toss weapons out of the closet.
“I’m going to get Shinobu back.“ She answered monotonously, a chill ran through the other girls. It was a tone they hadn’t heard (Y/n) use in a very long time.
“How are you going to do that? You aren’t thinking about giving in to their demands, are you?” Aoi asked fretfully.
“Of course not. I won’t need to. Did you see that stupid little wax seal they used on the envelope? I’ve seen it before in my previous line of work. They are humans that work for demons. They provide the quality fodder, and in return they get protection, money, power… whatever they can get their hands on. But there are rare occasions like this where they think they can get more out of us than they could out of the demons they serve. I’ve dealt with people from their group before.”
“In your… old profession?”
“Yeah. Lots of people have lost their loved ones to that group over the years and came to me for justice. Safe to say, they don’t know who they’re messing with or they wouldn’t have even dared to send this letter.” (Y/n) turned to face the girls, eyes full of fire.
She dialed it back a bit when she saw them flinch backward and knelt before them all.
“I’m going to get her back, I promise.“
“I’ll go too.” Kanao spoke up.
“No Kanao, you’ll stay here with everyone else. This isn’t demon slaying. I don’t want to put you in a position where you may have to kill a human, no matter how much they might deserve it. Trust that I will do whatever it takes to bring Shinobu hole safe and sound. Stay here and take care of everyone while I’m gone. Can you do that for me?”
Kanao but the inside of her cheek, but nodded solemnly. (Y/n) squeezed her shoulder then got up and moved over to the bed to equip all of her weapons that she thought wouldn’t see they light of day again. Hopefully Shinobu wouldn’t be too cross with her for not throwing them out when she asked her to.
When the last knife was strapped down, she patted the head of each girl as she exited the room and then the mansion, disappearing quickly over the fence. She only had about ten hours before sunset, so she would need to get to Natagumo quickly to make it in time.
“Hang on, Shinobu. I’m on my way.”
***
Shinobu came to with a throbbing headache. She groaned and tried to cup her head with her hands, keyword tried. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back and upon further inspection, she found her legs to be tightly bound as well.
For as beaten and bruised as she was, nothing hurt her more than having fallen into this damn trap. It had started out so harmlessly. A small child had come running to her for help, his mother supposedly sick. The young boy looked dirty and malnourished. Of course Shinobu didn’t give it a second thought before she let the boy lead her up the mountain. She was so used to fighting demons, that she had forgotten there were humans out there who were just as vile.
She had sensed something off when she followed the boy inside the dingy house. She felt a malicious presence behind her and swiftly pivoted on her feet, dodging the burly arms that had reached out to grab her. With a few precision strikes, he fell to the ground, only for six more to take his place. She got a few good punches in, as well as a few slices from the knives in her shoes, but with an ambush of this scale, with so little space to maneuver or time to think, she was overpowered and knocked unconscious.
“Well look who finally decided to wake up.”
Shinobu winced as her head was pulled up by her hair, but she refused to make any noise that would give her captors any satisfaction.
“You sure cut me up pretty bad, little brat.” The man pulled her head back further so she could see the bloody bandage wrapped around his head. The spot where his left eye would be was particularly saturated with blood. “It hurts like hell.”
“That’s what you get when you sneak up on people. You’re fortunate that’s all you endured.” Shinobu smiled sharply, her teeth pressed together tightly when the man sharply tugged her hair again.
“We sent a message off with that bird that was following you around. If anybody cares about you, they’ll be here with our demands by sundown. If they don’t, I’ll carve you up the same way you carved up me and my buddies before we serve you up to the boss on a silver platter.” He grinned wickedly and made a show of looking up at the sky through the trees, before looking back down at Shinobu smugly.
“Not much time left…”
He promptly let go of Shinobu’s hair and her head fell back to the ground. The man laughed uproariously and his buddies joined in, save for the young boy who had lured Shinobu frantically filling his face. The man kicked Shinobu’s bound legs out of his way before rejoining them at the fire for another bowl of stew.
Shinobu kept her breathing even. Panicking in this situation would do her no good. Besides, those fools all but signed their own death warrants by sending En back to the mansion with whatever poorly written scrap of paper they composed. She hadn’t a doubt in her mind that (Y/n) was well on her way.
Still, she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try to get herself out of this mess before then. She was a Hashira, she killed demons, she wasn’t going to let a group of meat-headed plain, human men continue to get the best of her. Shinobu carefully rubbed her feet together so as not to draw attention to herself and nearly scoffed.
For being so upset with her about her sharp retaliations, they sure didn’t think it necessary to take away her shoes. Idiots. Ever so quietly, she bent her knees as far as she could and carefully removed a shoe. It took a little time to maneuver it into a workable position, but she got the blade end wedged beneath the rope on her hands and began to saw at it, and no one was none the wiser, or so she thought.
A heavy foot came down on her hands and she couldn’t stop the yelp of pain that left her lips, drawing the attention of the men at the campfire.
“You idiots,” the new arrival sighed, a man with much nicer clothes than the rest, “while you were all eating and drinking like pigs, you almost let our guest escape. Need I remind you we are dealing with a Hashira here? What do you think would have happened if we let her escape, hm?”
“The- the boss would totally kill us. Thanks for catching on to that, Hyousuke.” One man whimpered.
“The boss?” Hyousuke tilted his head to the side as he took Shinobu’s shoes and tossed them into the bushes, “You think I’d ever tell the boss if we lost a quality catch like this? No… no, no, no,” his eyes steeled and his voice took on a more dangerous tone, “I would kill you all myself. He doesn’t have time to deal with you useless fools. He needs to become a Kizuki to continue keeping us safe and he’s not going to get there if you can’t take the time to do your damn job!”
“My, to speak of a demon so passionately, is it love?” Shinobu smiled sweetly, then added, “Gross.”
Hyousuke sneered down at her and put more of his weight on her wrists before easing up and turning his attention back to the campfire.
“Where’s the damn rope? I’ll need to re-tie her hands.”
“Uh, Masaru had it last.”
“Where is he?”
“He needed to relieve himself. Went out to the woods like… huh, maybe twenty minutes ago?”
Hyousuke stiffened, then snarled, “Well go find him, now!”
The men scampered into the forest, the young boy reluctantly went to follow, but Hyousuke called him back.
“Goro, you stay. I have a special job for you.” He presented the young boy with a knife and lead him to Shinobu, “This is a big job, boy. You do this well, and your stranding in the group will skyrocket, you understand. Meals everyday, new clothes, an actual bed, all will be yours. All you gotta do is watch this woman and if she tries to escape, you slash her tendons. If that doesn’t work, kill her. Got it?”
Goro shook under Hyousuke’s intense glare, but managed a nod.
“Good. This shouldn’t take long.” Hyousuke glared down at Shinobu, “Behave yourself if you want to live through this.”
Shinobu stayed silent, watching him disappear into the woods before returning her attention to Goro who looked at her with fearful eyes, knife tightly grasped within his hands. It was time Shinobu implement her best defense in this precarious moment, so she began to talk to the boy. Ever so slowly, his grip eased as Shinobu took an interest in his upbringing. Having never known his mother, nor really any experience talking to women, the kind way Shinobu spoke with him felt completely foreign.
A pained shout echoed through the forest, putting them both on edge again. The forest went quiet again, but only for a few moments before to more cries were heard.
“Goro-kun, stay calm.” Shinobu tried to ease the boy’s nerves, but he still looked as scare and desperate as a cornered animal. “If you cut the rope—”
Goro shakily held the knife to Shinobu’s throat, “Stop talking!” He commanded through sharp breaths just as another shout was heard in the distance, though much closer than the previous ones.
Shinobu took the risk to keep talking, “There could be a demon out there. I don’t want you to get hurt, Goro-kun. Please free me and give me my sword so I can protect you.”
Goro looked conflicted, switching his attention between Shinobu and the woods anxiously. He heard another shout and shut his eyes tightly, knife still uncomfortably close to Shinobu’s neck— until a rugged rock came sailing in and knocked the weapon out of his hand and into the bushes.
They both looked over in the direction the rock had come from to see a bloody figure emerge from the woods near the campfire, breathing heavily.
“A demon!” Goro shrieked, skittering back on his behind to put Shinobu between himself and ‘the demon’, but Shinobu was not all that concerned.
“None of that is your blood is it, (Y/n)?” She asked calmly as if she already new the answer.
“Of course not,” (Y/n) huffed, “I may have been persuaded into an early retirement, but I’m still as sharp as ever.” She smirked with pride, before seeing Shinobu’s frown and tacked on an apology at the end.
Once upon a time, (Y/n) and Shinobu hadn’t gotten along all that well and a lot of that stemmed from (Y/n)’s line of work as an assassin for hire. Well, it stemmed from (Y/n) having lied about being an assassin when they had first met. Shinobu found out after they had been dating for awhile and it was not pretty. They had broken up, but after a few months of being miserable without each other, (Y/n) decided to retire and ask Shinobu to take her back with the promise of no more secrets and things had been getting better since.
“Mhmm,” Shinobu hummed as (Y/n) came over to untie her, Goro too scared stiff to move, “I recall telling you to get rid off all those weapons.”
“I did. Well, I got rid of most of them. But, see how handy it is to keep a couple of classics around?”
“I suppose...” Shinobu released a relieved sigh when the last of the rope was cut and then sat up, finding herself engulfed in a tight hug as soon as she did so.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” (Y/n)’s voice was muffled from having her face pressed into Shinobu, but she was heard just fine.
“Sorry to worry you.” Shinobu brought her arms around (Y/n)’s neck to return the hug, despite the blood.
It was really nice for a few moments until they heard a twig snap and looked up to see Goro sticking his hands into the bushes, looking for the knife Hyousuke left with him.
“Hey, kid, just stay put, okay?” (Y/n) put her hand out in warning.
“We aren’t going to hurt you, Goro-kun. Come down the mountain with us, and we will keep you safe.” Shinobu promised.
“I can’t let you go! If you go, Hyousuke-san will kill me!”
“No he won’t. Just look at me,” (Y/n) gestured to herself, “If I didn’t kill him on my way here, then I’ll kill him when he shows up. And if you’re worried about any demons either, Shinobu had it covered, right?”
“Definitely,” Shinobu answered a bit distractedly, her sword back home in her hands, “Help me find my shoes?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll- I’ll—“
(Y/n) gently ruffled Goro’s hair, stunning him.
“You must be tired. What do you say, wanna get off of this dumb old mountain?” She softly asked.
“Stop! You’re Just trying to trick me like I tricked you!” He yelled, pointing a finger at Shinobu.
Shinobu smiled sympathetically and crouched down before the boy, “That was a pretty mean trick, wasn’t it? You feel bad about it, don’t you?”
Goro didn’t say anything, but fresh tears sprung from his eyes.
“Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. It’s hard to be hungry and on your own. I promise if you come with us, you’ll never have to do anything like this again. We will keep you safe.” She held out her pinky and after a short explanation of what a pinky promise was, Goro cautiously wrapped his own pinky around Shinobu’s.
“Well, isn’t that sweet.”
Shinobu and (Y/n) pivoted, shielding Goro from the new arrival. Hyousuke had returned with a few of his men, armed and ready for a fight.
“Damn, I really thought I had taken care of all of you.” (Y/n) groaned in annoyance. “Must’ve been shaking in the bushes as I walked by. Did you think of you regrouped, you’d be able to take me?”
“Hy- Hyousuke! I know this woman, she’s a demon with human blood, an assassin! She’s stolen lives from out faction before.”
“Demon with human blood seems a bit over dramatic,” she scoffed, “But also so, so hypocritical when you consider all you have done to give yourselves a cozy life.”
“Goro, get over here.” Hyousuke ordered through gritted teeth.
“He’s not going anywhere with you.” Shinobu denied, “It’s in your best interest if you let us pass.”
“I cannot return to him empty handed.” Hyousuke pulled a gun from his clothes, “I’ll just have to kill all three—“
In the blink of an eye, (Y/n) and Shinobu were on him. Shinobu’s sword pierced his hand and he dropped the gun in pain. (Y/n) instinctively went in for the kill. Hyousuke staggered before falling into the dirt, whatever was left of the small group scattered and fled into the woods. (Y/n) made a move to go after them, but Shinobu held her wrist.
“I think that they got the message.” She said.
“But they’re going to go back to whatever demon their friendly with and start up all over again with someone less fortunate.”
“En is following them. She’ll report the location back to Oyakata-sama and he will decide how to proceed from there. You already have more blood on your hands than I would like. Besides,” she whispered, flicking her eyes over to Goro, “You’re scaring him.”
“Alright, fine. I guess as long as it gets taken care of eventually, I don’t really care.” (Y/n) went to run her neck, but caught sight of the blood and just clasped her hands behind her back instead. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Goro-kun.”
“I’ve seen worse.” He mumbled quietly, shrugging his shoulders. Shinobu and (Y/n)’s hearts went out to him.
“We’re gonna work like hell so you don’t have to see anything like that ever again.” (Y/n) promised.
“You’ll be safe with us.” Shinobu reached out her hand as an invitation, “Come on, let’s go home.”
Goro hesitated, but he did take her hand.
“Hold my hand too?” (Y/n) batted her eyelashes and held out her bloody hand.
Shinobu’s eyes flickered to (Y/n)’s hand, then back up to her face, “Maybe another time, dear.” The hug they shared earlier was all the blood she wanted to deal with at the moment.
“Booooo.”
“You know what you can do though? Help me find my shoes. It’s a long way down the mountain, and I’d rather not be without them.”
“Yeah, yeah okay. I heard you the first time you asked.”
***
“I really needed that!” (Y/n) flopped onto the bed, her damp head landing in Shinobu’s lap, squeaky clean, “I almost forgot how itchy dried blood is.”
“Such pleasant words you are saying.” Shinobu replied with sarcasm. She put a bookmark between the pages of her book to mark where she had left off and put it aside to give her full attention, absently running her fingers across (Y/n)’s cheeks.
“I know. So is Goro-kun all settled in?”
“As much as he can be, but he’s in good hands. Naho, Sumi and Kiyo are excited to have someone younger than them around and surprisingly he seemed to latch onto Gotou-san quickly. I’m sure everything will get better in due time.”
“That’s good.” (Y/n) yawned and put her hands over Shinobu’s to keep them on her face. “And how are you feeling?”
“It was an unfortunate situation to find myself in, but I’m fine, really. I knew you would come.”
(Y/n) pulled one of Shinobu’s hands to her lips so she could plant a kiss against her palm. “If you ever feel not fine about it, I’ll be here for you then too.”
“I know,” Shinobu smiled warmly and hunched inward to return the kiss, “Thank you.”
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