#when in reality its more that hes unused to being okay with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crybaby-bkg · 6 months

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sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: brief PTSD flashbacks, talks about having a quirk, jealous bakugou once again!, more kissing ^_^ Word Count: 5k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

A couple days had passed since your first kiss with Bakugou, an official five weeks since you moved in with the hero. You had kissed a few more times in passing since then; once when he fixed you that sleepy tea right before bed, again when he came home bruised and busted one night after reopening his stitches during another battle, a couple times after rewatching an old fighting video of you and how you flipped a guy twice your size over your shoulder.

You would’ve never guessed that you could progress this fast, could trust a man you had hated so vehemently half a year ago. But here you are; sitting in the passenger seat of his dumb expensive sports car as he drives you to work with him.

It’s your first day, officially, of training to become a hero. Only, instead of having the traditional three year long courses most have to go through, you’re taking advanced courses. AKA—the lessons are going to be crushed into months instead of years.

You’re a little nervous, to say the least, once the reality of the situation actually sinks in. You’re going to be surrounded by heroes all day long, ones that are good and bad, deplorable and commendable, and you have to treat them all as equal. You’re going to have to treat the people who need saving as equal. You’re going to have to be fair and just and play by the book, lest they throw your ass in jail for all of the vigilante crimes that they have chosen to forgive for the time being.

To say you’re on probation is probably the best way to describe it all.

“Doing okay over there?” Bakugou hums, eyes glancing over to you before focusing on the road again. The closer you get to the agency, the more your stomach starts to turn in knots. You swallow thickly with a nod, eyes trained on the passing cars in front of you.

“Yeah,” you lie, and you must sound unconvincing because Bakugou turns to you with a frown.

“Are you?” He asks, voice accusatory. You pout, sinking a little further into your seat as you grip the seatbelt around you.

“No,” you sigh, gaze focused out the window. “This shit is making me nervous as fuck.” You admit to him, voice low as your hands start tightening. Bakugou sends you a concerned look though, unused to your faltering confidence, even in the face of danger.

“What are you nervous about?” Bakugou’s voice is gentle, smoothly turning the wheel to pull into the underground parking lot of the agency. You don’t say anything until he finds his spot on the second level, the soft darkness now concealing the way your hands start to tremor.

“What if I fuck up?” You whisper, eyes staring straight ahead at a truck across the lot, gaze unseeing. “What if I fuck up, and they decide to not forgive my previous crimes? And my true identity is outed? What if,”

I’m not good enough. Your mind is going a mile a minute, throat closing up as the overwhelming thoughts start to cloud your mind. As much as you try to block out the memories, they always come flooding back to you in crashing waves.

You’ll never be good enough, you hear me? Nothing you ever do will be worth it. Only thing you’re good for is serving me.

That’s not true, and you know its not true, but its so hard to negate those same feelings that were beat into you. You know you were good as a vigilante, that you’ll be even better as a hero with more accessibility, but its so fucking hard to believe sometimes when not being good enough is your core. Can you change it, your center? Can you change the fundamentals of who you are, of what makes you an individual? Can you find it in yourself to be good enough today, to always be good enough?

“I won’t let them fuck with you.” Bakugou says, his body turned in your direction, his voice stern and steady. It forces you back to reality, out of your head and in the present moment shared with him. You blink away the tears you hadn’t realized were forming with every second, sniffling quietly as you turn to him. He looks so pretty like this, with his sharp features softened by the contours of the dim lighting, his carmine eyes focused solely on your own.

“You hear me?” He asks, ducking his head to keep your eyes on him when his gaze becomes too much, curling in on yourself. “They can try whatever the fuck they want, but I won’t let them succeed. You’re gonna do your fuckin’ best, and they’re gonna accept it.” He tells you, firm. You laugh a little shakily as you wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands.

“And how are you gonna make them accept it?” You ask him, smile crooked as you face him again. You can tell the question stumps him, as he pulls back a little with a confounded frown on his face, his eyes searching for an answer.

“I dunno, probably beat them the fuck up and then burn their houses down.” Bakugou shrugs, his face as serious as ever. It makes you snort, quickly covering your mouth as you shake your head at him. “What?”

“You’re willing to commit assault and arson just for me?” You ask him jokingly, voice sweet as your tilt your head in his direction. You expect Bakugou to laugh with you, but his face falls serious, his eyes darting every which way but on your face, and you even see the tops of his cheeks starting to redden under the muddy lighting.

“‘Course I would. Shouldn’t have to do it yourself anymore.” He mutters, looking down at his hands, start picking at his nails. It makes your smile fall, tiny now, as you rest the back of your head on the seat cover, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“I don’t need a man to take care of me.” You snark at him, tone not as biting as it used to be when it came to subjects like this. There’s a seriousness in your voice that Bakugou picks up on though, despite how it underlies in your joking tone.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to get your hands dirty anymore, either. That’s what I’m here for.” He tells you, finally looks at you again with this—this face that makes your heart pang in your chest, makes it squeeze a little tight, suck the air from your lungs. You want to ask him a million questions; what are you here for, then? Why are you here for me? What did I do to deserve to have you here for me?

It’s overwhelming to think of, honestly. To know that Bakugou was merely a stranger just six months ago, someone you had such a vendetta against. And now here you are, with your heart in your throat, hoping for an answer too complicated for you to easily accept but yearn so achingly for anyway. Instead, you ask him,

“And who are you here as?” Despite the teasing lilt of your voice, you both know what you mean, what you refer to. You swallow the same time he does, your gaze falling to his parted lips, the tiny cut he received on them a few days ago healing. You want to kiss it just to see whether or not the skin is raised, if you’ll feel it against your own scarred mouth, but you wait. Hold off until his answer his clear, until it rings in the quietness of the car.

Bakugou swallows again, licking his lips slowly. His gaze hasn’t left yours once, and you feel your palms start to get sweaty. He could say anything. Are you ready for anything? Are you ready for the embrace, the rejection? Do you want any of it? Should you just run from all of it? He opens his mouth and then closes it again, does the same once more before his voice finally murmurs out,

“A friend.” His voice is hesitant, unsure. “I’m here as a friend.” He tells you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen the explosion hero this unsure of himself. And for some reason, his response makes you deflate, makes you sink in on yourself. He doesn’t look as pretty in the rose tinted glasses you’ve slid on yourself, the muddy color of reality flashing in front of your eyes.

You’re…disappointed for some reason. You expected another answer—of what, you convince yourself you’re not too sure of—but shouldn’t you be satisfied with this response? Especially to know that Bakugou doesn’t call just anyone his friend, not even the people he’s known for almost a decade now? Shouldn’t you feel satisfied, feel joyed that he considers you to be close?

So why does it feel like such a rejection?

“Yeah, a friend.” You chuckle humorlessly, eyes staring at the same truck from before, gaze void of anything you tried to let yourself feel. You two sit there in silence for a few beats, Bakugou staring at your profile, the way your silhouette curves around his dashboard. When he opens his mouth to speak again, you glance at the clock, and quickly grab an impromptu book bag you found in his closet filled with papers and pencils.

“Let’s go inside, you’re making me late for my first day.” You try to say lightly, but you slam his car door a little harder than necessary when you leave out. He doesn’t chide you for it, but the etched on frown and furrow in his brow shows his disapproval. You can’t find it in yourself to care much though, stomping behind him as he walks to the hidden elevator in the garage.

You two make your way around the agency, both silent, everyone clearing the way for the two looming clouds of frustration and tepidness. You stand far away from each other on the elevator up to his floor, and you follow him out until he leads you to another room across the hall from his office. He opens the door for you, and you walk in, finding a few familiar faces on the other side.

“Hey! I’m so glad you agreed to become a hero!” Kirishima’s loud voice rings out the moment he turns around and sees you. It helps lift your spirits a little, making a small smile form on your lips as you meet his extended fist bump halfway. It only makes Bakugou’s mood worsen, especially when he watches you wave at Deku next with another smile.

“Gonna go get changed.” Bakugou grunts as he turns on his heel quickly, exiting out of the room just as soon as he entered it. The two heroes watch him go in confusion, looking to you for answers, but you only shake your head at them.

“I’m ready to get started as soon as possible.” You tell them after a moment’s lull in conversation. They both perk up at that, turning to a whiteboard sitting on the adjacent wall, and another person leaning against a desk that you hadn’t seen before.

“This is Mrs. Kubo, and she’s going to be teaching you the fundamentals of what it means to be a hero.” Deku answers for her, and you bow to the middle aged woman. She’s pretty, with bright yellow hair cut into a bob and a kind smile gracing her soft features. She bows back before putting her hands on her hips.

“As I’m sure you were told, these lessons are going to be a speed run, and you’ll quintessentially be moving backwards in order to get you on the streets a little faster.” Her voice is raspy and delicate but so commanding, makes you hold onto your book bag straps a little tighter and your back straighten as you nod in understanding.

“First, Mr. Red Riot here will take you to the agency’s tailor in order for you to get a hero costume thought out, designed, and made.” She looks between you two, watching how Kirishima pumps a fist into the air.

“I love designing hero costumes! It’s the best part.” He tells you, Deku agreeing with him with a quiet affirmation.

“I think saving people should be the best part.” Deku interjects though, when Mrs. Kubo sends Kirishima a confused look. The redhead looks between the two before changing his answer, nodding his head quickly.

“Yeah, that too. Definitely.” He looks a little unsure, and smiles sheepishly at you when they stop staring at him. It makes you laugh under your breath as you shake your head at his antics.

“When you return, we’ll discuss your quirk, unlearn vigilantism, and start relearning the legal way of helping your community. Okay?” Mrs. Kubo says, her words making your chest tighten in anticipation. Your quirk? Unlearning? Why does it feel like such a dig at the fundamentals of what makes you, you?

Kirishima must take notice of the way you shrink in on yourself, as he ducks his head down a little to get your eyes on him again. His smile is friendly, short eyebrows slightly turned up as he hooks a thumb over his shoulder.

“Ready to design a badass hero costume?” He asks you, and you nod slowly, mind still going. You set your backpack down on a nearby chair, following after Kirishima as you try to get your shit together to focus.

Why would Mrs. Kubo need to know what your quirk is? Why does it even matter? Well, you know why it matters, but you just don’t get it. Don’t get why the general public is so contingent on what powers you have, how you can contribute to society, your individualism when it came to supernatural abilities. You did a damn good job being a vigilante that was quirkless—even if it wasn’t all the way true. Obviously, you didn’t need one to save people, as you have saved a countless amount, despite what the media has convinced everyone to think.

Before you know it, you were on another floor in a brightly lit room, and Bakugou was already in there, still frowning with his hands on his hips. He looks around the room, speaking lowly to an eccentric looking man with two toned hair and too tiny glasses. They both perk up when they see you, Bakugou looking down at the floor when your eyes meet. You sour a little at that, at the torrent of emotions you’re already feeling, and you huff a little. Kirishima pretends he doesn’t notice the tension between you two, but the designer really looks oblivious to it all.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” The designer says after calling out your name, making you bristle a little. You still gotta get used to hearing your actual name and not your vigilante name, and soon, a new hero name.

He comes up to you entirely too fast with a grin, but Kirishima sidesteps him quickly to block him. You can’t see the redheads face, but you watch the surprise on the designer’s, looking back to Bakugou in confusion, to which the blond just raises a single eyebrow. They all share a silent conversation you’re not privy to, which makes you frown, before a look of recognition passes over the designers face.

“My apologies,” he says sincerely, bowing before he turns on his heel. “Dynamight here, has been giving me a few suggestions of what he’d think you might like for a hero costume.”

The designer tells you over his shoulder, waiting for you to follow him as he makes his way back over to the table he and Bakugou were standing at. You walk around Kirishima, nodding your head to him in thanks as he winks at you in return, before you follow the eccentric man.

Bakugou leaves the moment you stand beside him, but only to whisper something to Kirishima, his voice a little louder than a whisper but you can’t make out much of what he’s saying. The designer is too loud, as he starts pulling out different colored pieces of fabric, pointing down to his iPad, his hands moving wildly the whole time.

“We were thinking something green, maybe.” He starts, pulling out an ugly electric green that makes you pull away from him. “Something opposite of red, if you know what I mean.” He winks at you, and you only stare back at him unamused before he turns back to the iPad with just as much enthusiasm as before.

“Maybe some earthy tones? So a good green and brown mixture.”

“I don’t wanna look like bear shit hiding in the forest.” You tell him bluntly, and wonder if you were a little too harsh with your words. But the designer only laughs, throwing his head back and all, and it makes the corner of your mouth lilt up a little.

“Good comparison, but I would never let my work look like that!” He tells you, swiping his pen through a few greens in the color wheel. You watch him all the while, taking note of Kirishima turning on his heel to leave the room before Bakugou is making his way back over to you.

“That one.” You say quickly, finger pointing at the square of color in the corner. “I think that green is nice.”

“Ah, yes.” The designer agrees with a nod. “Sage green has become very popular amongst you young folk these past few years.” He tells you, pushing his glasses up on his nose, speaking as if he isn’t only a couple of years older than you. You and Bakugou share a look as the designer pulls out the perfect sage green piece of fabric, laying it on the table before he starts scrolling to find a brown next. You guys look for a minute, before you direct him to a darker brown, almost black, picking a color you like.

“That brown compliments it well.” You murmur, pointing again. The designer hums for a moment before flitting off to the openness of the room. You and Bakugou watch him pick through a pieces of fabric before he finds one that’s closest to what you said, skipping back over to place it next to the green. He takes in both colors with a finger on his chin before nodding quickly.

“Yes, that would be nice. Drab in color, but not too gloomy. Fits perfectly.” He mumbles to himself, whispering something else before his head swivels up to your own.

“Okay, now that we have colors, what style were you thinking?” He asks you, and you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off quickly. “And what quirk do you have? We usually try to design something that best accommodates your abilities.”

Instantly, your mood sours again, and your face must show it. The designer looks between the two of you in confusion, and you wonder whether or not is a good time to be honest with yourself and them.

Maybe…today isn’t the day for that just yet.

“I don’t have a quirk.” You mutter, eyes glued on the iPad once more. You can feel Bakugou’s eyes stuck on the side profile of your face, inquisitive. You never shared that part of you, afraid of what he might do with it, how he might feel knowing you presented yourself as one thing to the media. But if he knew, he’d understand why. He’d understand all of it.

“I’d like something that isn’t form fitting and covers all of me.” You speak up after the awkward silence hangs in the air. “And a mask too, maybe.” You nod, trying to envision a new costume. It’s hard to, when all you toted around was the Red Medusa; black and red rags in the beginning, before you found your friend to design an actual costume for you. Still, always, black and red, except your chest tattoo of Medusa exposed, your face fully covered, multiple holsters for guns and knives and ammo.

You’re not sure if the Hero Commission would let you continue using your guns and knives, but it was the best way for you to fight. You’re not sure you would continue doing this if they wouldn’t let you.

The rest of the conversation goes by dully, except for the part when the designer, who finally told you his name was Eddie, started sketching out the fabric on a wide expanse of paper. Two arms grew from his sides, and the sketch was completed in only a minute, before they retracted again.

“What do you think?” Eddie asks as he presents his work to you. Bakugou stares at the sketch beside you, and it just…doesn’t feel all the way right. You’re not sure what it is exactly, but it doesn’t fit who you want to become.

“I like it, for now.” You say honestly. “But let me sleep on it. I think there are a few changes I’d like to make, maybe talk it over with him.” You tell Eddie, hooking your thumb over to Bakugou who raises his eyebrows in surprise. You can tell he has something snarky to say, but swallows it when you shoot him a knowing look. For the first time since you two entered the building today, does he smile just the tiniest bit at you.

After that, Bakugou guides you back to the room you originally started in. He walks with his hands in his pockets, his face deep in thought as you try to keep up with his long strides. He doesn’t say anything until you two stand outside of the office turned classroom door, folding his arms as he stares down at you with an inquisitive look.

“You don’t have a quirk.” He states more than asks, mouth forming a straight line. Your stomach drops a little, and you swallow thickly, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

“Uh huh.” You respond back, neither answering his question nor confirming your status. You two stare at each other for a long while, before he nods, tongue in his cheek, opening the door for you.

“Have a good lesson.” He tells you without looking at you, his eyes far away, questioning. You don’t say anything else to him, only scurry inside of the room before he closes it behind you, holding your breath all the while.

The truth is going to come out, sooner or later. But with the truth, comes everything else that barricades it from spilling all over yourself and everybody you know. So for now, you think you’ll keep it all locked away, for your own safety of drowning.

…

The rest of the day goes by quickly, with an overload of information being presented by Mrs. Kubo. Deku and Kirishima occasionally pop in with their own input and questions for you, even Shouto coming in once to drop a bit of information into your lap. You scarcely see Bakugou though, only glimpses when he goes into his office across the hall after patrol and handing over the lunch that he packed for you.

When the day is finally over and you think you have officially fried your brain from information overload, are you finally allowed into Bakugou office. You knock once before entering, find him hunched over his desk with a pair of glasses on as he types at his computer. He looks up irritatedly for a brief second before he realizes that it’s you, face softening.

“How was your first day?” He asks you, typing a bit more before he pulls back, pushing his glasses up into his hair. It makes his bangs stick up, exposing his forehead, that you don’t know whether or not you wanna kiss or pluck. You lean against the front of his desk with your hip, head turning over your shoulder to speak.

“It was great, dad.” You snark at him, mouth quirking up at the way he bristles at your words. He narrows his eyes at you, scoffing under his breath as he types something else on his computer before the screen goes black.

“Shaddup, dumbass.” He sighs at you, pushing away from his desk as he stands at his full height. You snicker at that, fully sitting on his desk now, just to be an asshole. Bakugou rounds his desk, rubbing at his forearms as he starts to head to the door, before glancing over his shoulder.

“Get yer ass off’a my desk.” He tells you, turning on his heel when you only huff and cross your arms over your shoulder. You shrug, watching him walk closer to you, feeling something deep settle in your belly (you can’t tell whether its nerves, excitement, anticipation, or all three).

“Make me.” You tell him, chin jutting out in defiance, a line that you’ve found yourself quite fond of as of late. Bakugou squints his eyes at you, only a few feet in distance separating you two, although he feels a mile away. You don’t feel like you’re on the same wavelength right now, and it makes your gut churn when he opens his mouth instead of stepping up to kiss you again.

“Did I upset you with my answer in the car earlier?” Bakugou says instead, and it makes your chest squeeze tightly behind the safety of your ribs. You blink at him, watch the sweat run down his forehead, the eyeliner smudged underneath his eye, how his lip twitches when you take too long to answer. Your head tilts at him, your eyes distant as you think about it, how to verbalize every complicated emotion you’ve felt these past ten hours.

“Hmm, yes and no.” You tell him solemnly, mouth twisting a little, watching how his brows furrow. “Our reality in the moment is where it is, and it should come as unnaturally as we allow it.” You tell him, shooting him a look as you referenced what you said moments before your first kiss together. Bakugou smiles softly at that, nodding, as if to remind himself of your words, before you continue.

“But, I don’t think I would mind jumping a little into the future.” You say softly, your words dying out as your fingernails become the most interesting thing in the world. You glance up from under your lashes when you hear Bakugou let out a huff through his nose in amusement, his big grin and light eyes making your own face soften.

“So, are you telling me that you wanna be more than friends?” He asks you, head tilting to the side as he walks up to you, slowly, until he stands in between your legs. He doesn’t touch you, keeps his hands hanging loosely at his sides. You want him to touch you, wrap his arms around you, pull you in close, but your body keeps trying to convince you otherwise. You try not to listen to it, shrugging when he tilts his head the other way to get your eyes back on his.

“Maybe, I dunno.” You whisper, chin tilting in his direction as he slowly starts to descend to your level, his hands gripping the edges of the desk beside your hips. “I’d have to think about it some more.” You say fleetingly with another shrug, teasing, and it makes the explosion hero hold the desk even harder. (Is it bad that you wish it were your hips or your waist he would grab like that?)

He doesn’t ask if he can kiss you this time, and surprisingly, you don’t mind. You expect it, if anything, would find yourself offended if he didn’t kiss you with the urgency that he does now. His hands stay on the desk, but yours pull him in even closer by the thickness of his throat, the nails on your other hand scratching at the exposed flesh of his shoulder.

You moan into his mouth when his tongue glides against yours, smooth and delicate and gentle and everything you’ve ever wanted in a kiss. His head tilts this way and that, his nose bumping yours, but you don’t seem to mind, mouth falling open in a pant when he kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek. You bring him back to your lips, hips scooting to the edge of the desk, hope he’ll catch you before you fall—with his strong hands—with his own hips—with—with his knee between your—

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A monotonous voice rings out, makes you pull away from Bakugou sharply with a gasp. You both look over his shoulder to find Shouto standing there with a few stacks of papers in his hands, his eyes a little rounded in surprise.

“The fuck do you want, Icy Hot?” Bakugou snaps at him, shielding your body from the hero, but its not like there’s much to hide. Still, you shuffle a little, trying to quell the ache somewhere you hadn’t felt in so long, face burning at the reality of your situation.

“For you to sign these papers, but I’ll just catch you tomorrow, I guess.” He says with a sigh, nodding his head to you once before turning on his heel and exiting. You two watch him go, bodies suspended in hesitancy, unsure if he would come back or if someone else might come through the doors.

After a few seconds, Bakugou turns to you, with kiss swollen lips and a red tinge to his cheeks. You find yourself biting your bottom lip, and his eyes follow the sight.

“Wanna continue this in the car?” He asks you, breathless, leaning in for another quick peck. You kiss him once, twice, have to pull away in order to compose yourself and your thoughts.

“That would be nice.” You whisper, smoothing a hand through his hair. Bakugou nods quickly, leaning against your palm before kissing it. He helps you down from his desk, grabbing his duffel from the couch in his office, as he pulls you out of there and down the hall into the elevators. And you go with him, giggling all the while, waving at Shouto and a red faced Deku as you pass them, feeling like a giddy, un-traumatized, harmless teenager all over again.

chapter ten

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#crybaby.bkg.scorned

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dnangelic · 5 months

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" Nini. I drawed you something. " She holds up the drawing, which had been done with what appears to be fingerpaint painting (her hands are covered in residue from the very .. physical engagement with it) depicting a crudely drawn Fyuga and Daisuke standing under a tree holding hands with big smiles.

" I made one for Dadark too. Do you wanna see? "

' for me ? ' had he ever been given something like this before ? nonsense ; as the only aspiring artist he knew throughout his family and just about the entirety of his school , he was much more used to putting effort into his own paintings and sketches of others rather than ever being portrayed and gifted such a precious handiwork . never would he have rejected anyone's art for him --- the great phantom thief treasured every piece and its feelings .

the state of fyuga's hands is hard to ignore , but sometimes a mess was a necessity to a creative process . daisuke knew , and so did the stained smock he sometimes wore . it's thus that without any fret he quietly takes ahold of what drawing she's held out for him . roughly upon the paper , themselves --- readily recognizable . a hand moves over his chest , his cheeks flush deeper in an instant , and his heart pounds and soars in a way that thrums all the way up into his ears .

it was a beautiful piece of art . moving in its simple sentiments ; a wish , or perhaps an expression of fyuga's apparent reality --- the two of them together and happy . certainly , he wouldn't have hesitated to profess that he loved her like a trusted younger sister , or a distant , now-orphaned cousin that had simply come to live within his family's mansion .

' i really want to see , but i don't know if i should ... ' was it absurd to say that sort of thing when his body had already transformed ? the so-called soul of it still remained sleeping , leaving him to the day alone , thoughts silent for now . maybe fyuga's art reflected this , and instead of a tree , the great phantom thief had been drawn in his more preferred night .

for just a moment more , he nearly asks why they had been separated . dark , within him , would have certainly held fyuga's hand at one side just as readily as daisuke would have the other . but perhaps to her the relationship across and between them was something more like this instead --- he had never considered it , unused to the likes of company who knew of his curse , and who he didn't have to flee from . even so , daisuke can't withhold himself from one last suggestion .

' would it be okay ... if we put them together ? mine and dark's , into one big painting . we can frame it and keep it --- let's keep it in the same room that i paint in ! ' ... maybe other children had their works pinned to the fridge , but in the niwa household , fyuga's masterpiece would have been most certainly framed by exquisite gold and hung up with no less appreciation than any other priceless work .

' if we keep it there , then everyone can always look at it . it's safer than in my room , and maybe tonight --- if dark wakes up , then you can take him by the hand , and show him . ' as much as daisuke himself would have liked to have stayed up --- at times the phantom thief's nocturnal hours simply went beyond him and the steady fatigue of an ordinary week .

#*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#paraleech #CANON.#nini bliss. he loves fyuga sm #dark would explode btw #but only after he asked 'why's this crappy art framed' <- clueless

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piercethelenn · 2 years

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💫The Occult Club.

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Chapter 16: Knight of Cups.

Warnings: Swearing || Word count: 1,3k.

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一Come on, Jungwon, stop embarrassing yourself like that in front of the new member!一 Jake laughed as the poor leader struggled to open a trapdoor that lead to the unused basement.

It was Y/N’s first day as a member of the Occult Club, and she had suggested finding a more private space to work, given that her service involved talking about sensitive topics regarding the clients’ personal lives, things that just could not be discussed in a crowded place where anyone could hear. The other members had no idea there was a basement in the first place; everyone seemed equally surprised when Jungwon suddenly moved a dusty rug to reveal an old-looking trapdoor with rusty iron hinges.

It may not be the most comfortable place, but it served its purpose. Still, the door had not been opened in years, so Jungwon was now facing a little problem. Y/N reached to help him, seeing that the old wooden structure had not moved an inch in the past five minutes.

At the same time that Jungwon felt his stomach burst in butterflies at one accidental touch of their hands, Y/N cringed at the unsettling whispers that invaded her ears for a brief moment. The high contrast in reactions went totally unnoticed by the rest of the club members, as they were currently taking care of their own tasks.

“All that for nothing” Y/N thought to herself, seeing how the door would not budge, ignoring all their efforts; it almost felt as if the dark wooden planks from which the structure was made stared back at them in mockery . 一Don’t worry一 She reassured Jungwon 一We can use a tool or something一. He nodded and called for Jake, who was the club’s designated repair-man, and the only person present who was able to use a hammer without amputating a finger; Riki was placed at the opposite extreme of the spectrum, after a small accident that led Jungwon to revoke the alchemist’s toolbox privileges.

(...)

The basement was not big enough to fit six teenagers inside, so Riki and Jake were the only ones to help Y/N clean up the space. There were many old and dusty things stored in boxes which they started to move outside with Jungwon’s permission. The leader was about to offer his help, but was pulled outside the cabin by Sunoo before he could even pronounce a word.

一What’s wrong?!一 Jungwon asked in a loud whisper as the numerologist dragged him by the arm deeper into the forest. They finally stopped a few meters away from the cabin. 一Jungwon, I need to ask you something important一 Sunoo finally spoke, making the latter raise an eyebrow.

一With the way you’re talking it almost sounds like you want to confess your feelings for me or something一 The leader jokes, making the older boy roll his eyes. 一I’m being serious here, and I will ask this as a caring member of your club, and your bestest friend一 Both frowned, Sunoo to emphasize the seriousness of his words, and Jungwon to express just how confused he was. 一Are you sure you feel okay with having Y/N around? You both seem so awkward with each other一.

一You are right, I do feel awkward around her一 Jungwon agreed一But it’s not because I don’t want her around… It’s just that I can’t figure out what I feel for her, you know?一 His fingers ran a few times through his dark, wavy hair; it was a habit of his that gave away his frustration 一I still don’t to know if I actually like her, or if all this timeI was just being gaslighted by all of you and in reality I just care about her like a friend一.

Sunoo nodded in understanding and playfully elbowed him 一It’s not our fault you are fun to mess with, but of course that in the end you are the only one who can put a name to your feelings一.

一Jungwon! Can you come here for a second?一 Y/N suddenly called from a few meters away, holding an old book, her worried expression made the two boys instinctively cut their conversation and go back to the cabin immediately.

Okay, fine, Jungwon likes Y/N. After so many weeks, almost months of denial, all he needed was a little push called “a possible future where Y/N and Jungwon are not destined to be together”. In the past, he had made the gigantic mistake of taking the girl for granted, given that she was single, and as far as the tarotist knew, she did not seem to have a crush on anyone at the moment.

Luckily, he was quick enough to have embraced his emotions when it was not too late yet, and the chance to confess all that he felt for the young medium was still standing. As always, he relied on his tarot readings to help him further understand the situation, which explained the three cards displayed before him, waiting to reveal the current state of his vital energy.

For some inexplicable reason, his hand hesitated when reaching for the first one. Was he scared? Probably, as this was the first time in his relatively short life that he had developed romantic feelings for someone. Love did not scare him, nor did Y/N; It was more like the fear of the unknown suddenly clouding his thoughts.

The boy breathed in, then out, and finally flipped the first card, which indicated the state of his mind. As expected, a card of cups showed up, none other than the ace. Jungwon had done plenty of love-related readings for his clients before, but this was a whole new experience, because the message was directed to him this time. He felt embarrassed, his face was burning and the hand that currently held the card was shaking, making it difficult for him to focus.

This card was telling him about the beginning of a relationship, and being in the “mind” position indicated that he had been thinking about it, which he could not really deny. The whole situation started to feel stupid to Jungwon, for him it was like going through puberty all over again, he swore that even the faint smell of hormones was in the air (He later realized it was a dumb expression, as hormones do not leave the body nor have a particular smell).

After deciding he had lost enough time thinking of useless things, he flipped the second card, which was, of course, another cups card. It was number two this time, how funny. Regardless of how odd of a coincidence this was, Jungwon thought it made absolute sense, as he was more than ready to commit to monogamy for the rest of his life, like a mantis shrimp; Not that he thought of Y/N like some weird-looking sea creature… Wait, where was he? Oh, right, the third card.

It was time to flip the spirit card, which was usually used to also get some kind of advice, as it described feelings deep in the unconscious. Jungwon tilted his head, looking at the Knight of Cups that showed up with confusion. This card usually talked about getting in touch with one’s emotions and acting according to them, but how was he supposed to do as told, given that he had barely been able to identify his crush on Y/N in the first place? The card was asking too much from him, everything was going too fast for him to handle. His soft cheeks got impossibly redder at the thought of acting on accord of his feelings for Y/N.

Luckily, he could think of a solution before losing total control over his sanity, even if it deeply hurt his pride to ask for help.

ㅤ

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#enhypen smau #jungwon #jungwon angst #jungwon fluff #jungwon smau #jungwon social media au #enhypen #enhypen jungwon #jungwon x reader #the occult club #enhypen angst #enhypen social media au #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader

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deans-writing · 4 months

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Mourning

Characters: (Saints Row 1) Aaron Trouble, Troy Bradshaw, William Sharp

Warnings: None

Notes: Lin should've come back for sr4 fuck you

It'd only been a few weeks since Sharp had set the perfect trap. Leaving Lin tied up, and luring Aaron in to save her. That ended with a cracked open head, and a bullet in his stomach. And worst of all, a dead friend. One he'd barely had time to sit and grieve for, instead, he had to use her death as motivation to push through the searing agony in his gut and skull.

Sharp's car went down easy enough, getting slammed into by a truck twice its size was enough to render it unusable. That's when Aaron got out, finally letting the pressure go off of his stomach while he ripped Sharp out from his wreck of a vehicle. Only to strangle him, right there.

He had tried to fight back, punching and clawing desperately through his dazed state. It only pissed the Saint off more. His grip tightening, fingers leaving purple bruises in his neck while he could hear the life being torn away from his body. It was nothing short of pathetic.

Only when the last bit of Sharp's soul left his husk did Aaron let go. Without a target, without something else clogging his mind like hair in a drain, he realized just how desperately he himself needed help. Even though he didn't feel like he'd earned it, Aaron's primal instincts took over, forcing him to get to a hospital.

Now, there he sat. In the church, alone. Other Saints had glanced at him when he finally walked the streets again, he could hear the murmuring, only for their conversations to kick back up once he was out of sight. The few who'd gotten close enough to say anything were met with the teenagers empty stare.

No one bothered him inside, the only one who'd even spoken to him was Julius. Aaron barely listened, only hearing something about Gat wanting blood for what'd happened. As eager as Aaron was to get up and join him on a warpath, he was forced to stay. Both by Johnny himself, and the still healing gutshot wound. The doctors had been desperate to get him to stay, but it was either his aura that made them stop arguing, or the knife in his hand.

The silence the religious structure brought was both comforting, yet deeply unsettling. It sent shivers down his spine with each shake in the air from a breeze outside. There was always a Saint running their mouth, or someone cleaning their weapons, or just someone smoking and drinking. People were avoiding him like the plague, which was the smart move.

Troy Bradshaw wasn't the brightest though.

His steps into the church brought the teenager back into reality, each thud echoing gently throughout the building. By the time he rounded the corner of the entrance, Aaron's head was already turned back to watch him. Troy gave a small wave, his hand not passing above his chest while he did. "Hey, kid." He murmured.

Aaron didn't respond, and Troy understood why no one wanted to go near him. Someone had to though, lord only knew just what was going through his damn head. With that in mind, he chose his next words carefully, all the while moving closer and sitting next to the gangbanger at one of the remaining pews. "You, er, you doin' okay?"

Stupid question, he immediately figured. After a few moments of silence, he continued. "At least- I don't know, relatively? The others, they're worried about you, y'know." For a second, he thought about putting a hand on the others shoulder. Although he feared he'd lose his hand in the process faster than he could actually get a word in.

"...Lin wasn't your fault." To the point, blunt. There was no real way to shuffle around the subject with this, it seemed to be easier to just cut straight to the chase, rather than keep up some cliche small talk that wouldn't actually help at all. "Everyone knows you did what you could. Nothing you coulda changed-"

"I shouldn't have made it out." Aaron cut him off.

Troy felt his blood run cold at that statement. Two things to unpack: One, the obvious. The kid thought he should've died? Two, he could fucking talk? It seemed inappropriate to begin questioning him about the latter, so he bit his tongue as Aaron continued to speak.

"Lin didn't deserve to die. She should've made it out of there, it... It should've been me." Aaron almost felt out of breath at that, finally letting out what had been stuck in his head for weeks. Troy was the only person who'd gotten close enough, and seemingly cared enough, to make Aaron's lips loose. And once it began spilling out, he couldn't seem to plug it back up. So, he continued.

He slumped over a little while he spoke, his head turning to stare down. "I thought she was gonna be right behind me when I got that trunk open, but when I got up- she just wasn't there. She wasn't fucking there, man!" He could feel his emotions ramping up in intensity, forcing tears to prick the seams of his eyes. "I could've saved her. I was just worryin' about myself- she shouldn't have died, Troy. It should've been me, you get that? Not her. ME."

Troy had heard all too much about survivors guilt, and this was a textbook example. It was somewhat horrifying to hear from someone clearly so young. Everything about Aaron told Troy that he was just a kid. How he carried himself, his expressions alone, Jesus, he didn't look like an adult. But it seemed to be too late to simply get him out now, so all he could do was help him out. Make sure he didn't die.

"...I can't say shit that's gonna make you magically feel better." Troy sighed, "But, I can tell you this much. I don't think Lin would want you to kick your own ass for this. You made it out, and you killed that fuckin' guy. From where I'm standin', you did pretty alright for her." He added, finally reaching a hand out and placing it on Aaron's back. He froze up for a split second, expecting a shot to the face, or a broken arm- but nothing came.

He just shook. Trembling in place as his hands reached up, cradling his head while silent cries finally began to escape. Troy didn't want to risk anything by pushing too hard with comfort, so he sat still, his hand remaining on the Saints back. A way to tell him he wasn't alone, at the very least. Troy knew he wasn't much better at comforting people with his words, so this seemed to be the best way. And that's just how he kept it. If Aaron needed someone to sit there with him, let him know that it truly wasn't his fault? Then Troy would do it.

No one else around the damn place seemed to be capable of it.

#writing #aaron trouble

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 7

Part 1 Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

What?

What had you just said?

Bakugou looked up, wide eyed, to stare at his alpha. His beautiful Y/N. The hand in his pocket gripped a small jewelry box tightly. He hadn’t been paying full attention, instead he had been in his own head, practicing over and over what he was going to say. But then you had said… He couldn’t have heard right.

“What’d you say?” He whispers gruffly.

Bakugou watched intently. You were staring up at the sky, though it didn’t feel like you were actually seeing the fireworks as they boomed and flashed.

“I… It’s time for us to break up, Katsu. You know it, I know it. This…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, still not looking at him. “This hasn’t worked in a while. A long while. Years, if we’re honest.”

That… That wasn’t true! Why were you saying that? Bakugou stared at you, shocked. His eyes raked over you, and for the first time that evening, he actually paid attention. You… You didn’t look good. Your outfit was beautiful, and your hair was perfect. But now he noticed the slump to your posture, and the way your shoulders were tense and hunched. How long had those dark circles been under your eyes? Bakugou startled as he realized that whatever was bugging you clearly wasn’t just a today problem. Something had been going on for a very long time and he hadn’t noticed. How had he not noticed? He moved to inch closer to touch you, to hold and comfort his alpha. You held up your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“It’s alright. I know. I’m sorry I’m saying this today, that wasn’t what I had planned. But there wasn’t a good time before, and you were clearly so miserable tonight…” You blew a heavy breath out, glancing at the omega before looking away. “It’s time. Probably long overdue.”

Bakugou made a strangled little sound in the back of his throat as he stared, wide eyed. What was happening? This couldn’t be real. You were his alpha. His Y/N. Maybe… Maybe if he was honest with himself, things hadn’t been great when he had started out at being a pro hero, but that was over now. It was okay now. Things had calmed down. You were meant to be together! Katsuki took a step, reaching for you again. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

You took a step back, away from him. “It’s over, Katsuki. It’s over and that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. It would never be okay!

“I know things might be awkward around the apartment,” you continued, “but it’s only for a little while. I’ve been offered a job, and I’ve taken it. I’ll be moving in a month. I’ll try to stay out of your hair until then.”

Bakugou’s mind screamed. He was frozen, his mind refusing to process what was going on. You were leaving? Leaving him in every single way? Where were you going and leaving him behind? When had you planned all this? What had happened for him not to notice his alpha was slipping away from him? Katsuki whined quietly. You winced and looked away.

“I’m sorry for saying this all tonight, but it needed to be said. I’m sorry.” You glanced his way, giving him a watery smile. “Goodbye, Katsu. I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that you turned and walked away, your pace increasing until you had broken out into a run. Katsuki remained where he was, sinking down until he was kneeling on the peer. He stared after you until he couldn’t see you any more. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t… He pulled the small velvet box from his pocket and opened it with shaking hands. There was the ring he had picked out, just for you. From the light of fireworks that still flashed overhead he could just barely make out the inscription that he had asked for. “Forever.” Bakugou bit into his fist to muffle his howls of anguish.

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

It was strange, packing up. So many artifacts of your life that you have walked by and lived with every day without paying attention to you were forced to hold and consider. Take, toss, or give away. Some stuff was easy choices. You had packed your books up, and sorted through your clothing to figure out what you were going to take with you. But some things were harder than they should be. Like this. You held the unopened toothbrush package in your hands, turning it over and over. You had bought it years ago, when you had just moved it. It was for Katsuki if he ever stayed the night. And here it was, still unopened. It would be a waste to throw it away, unused. But you couldn’t stand to take it with you. You threw it into the give away box with an aggravated sigh. You had known this was going to be difficult, but it was even worse than you had anticipated. So many things in your living space reminded you of the blond that you were leaving behind. The little orange knick knacks you bought because they reminded you of him. The first edition runs of his very first hero merch. The dusty omega nesting kit that was hidden in the back of your closet. There were so many artifacts of your former plans and dreams, and each one hurt in a new way. The smell didn’t help.

You were certain you were imagining it, but lately it seemed like your apartment always smelled faintly of burnt caramel. It was a major reason you stayed away whenever you weren’t packing. It made you feel guilty, even though you were certain you were doing the right thing. He didn’t need you clinging on to him. He didn’t want you hanging on, and he had made that clear time and time again. And now? Now you had to figure out how to live in a world where Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t your sun and moon. You’d figure it out. Somehow. If you could just get that damned smell of caramel out of your nose.

You threw half empty containers of food and spices into the trash with more force than necessary. Maybe if you got rid of the food you had laying around the food smells would go away. You still had three weeks until you’d be moving, but there was enough savings in your account that you could eat out and live on the basics until you were settled in your new place. Or you supposed you could cook at Denki’s. You had offered to help him pack since his schedule was busier than yours. He was going to put in his transfer notice any day now.

You stilled and stared out the window without really looking at anything as you became lost in thought. It was something you hadn’t really processed before. The first time you were going to be moving in with someone, and it was going to be Denki. And it was going to stay Denki for the rest of your lives, or that was the plan at least. It was strange to think about. You could picture it though. Picture Denki and his grin. Imagine chaotic nights with Mario Kart and junk food. A slight blush tinted your cheeks at how easy it was to imagine what your future kids could look like. It wouldn’t be a bad life. It would take time. But you think the two of you could make it good. The friendship was there, and strong. Maybe, with each other's help, you could both let go. Heal. Maybe even come to truly love each other with time.

You glanced at the clock. It was almost time for you to go to work. You planned on giving them a couple more weeks. There honestly wasn’t much to do this time of year, but it got you out of the apartment, and that was something you really needed right now. You glanced around, deciding to leave your sorting as it was for now. In just a couple minutes, you were out of the apartment and on your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes after noon. You should be gone by now. Bakugou had listened, pressing his ear to his door. He cursed the building’s soundproofing when he couldn’t hear anything. He was desperate for any sign of you. But he didn’t quite dare confront you. How could he face you? In the span of an evening you had turned his entire world on its head. He had thought you were good. That the two of you had been as solid in your relationship as you had been when it had all started. But then you had said…

You had…

You were…

A whine creeped out of his throat.

The past week hadn’t felt like reality. He’d gone to work on autopilot, focusing on the job in a way that didn’t allow him to think of anything else. His friends hadn’t started asking questions yet, thanks to how busy work had been. Bakugou never thought he’d be grateful for an increase in villain activity, yet here he was. But when his shift was over and he had to go home, that was when your words replayed for him over and over again. He spent hours curled in his nest, barely leaving. He still ate, drank, shuffled to the bathroom. He cared for himself enough that he could still go to work without anybody questioning too much. The only other thing he spent any time doing, he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he couldn’t stop himself. Here he was, going to do so again for the fourth day in a row.

Bakugou crept out of his own apartment. He knew you were long gone from the building, but his guilty conscience kept him moving quickly and quietly until he reached his goal.

Unlocking your apartment was easy. He wondered if you had forgotten you had given him a key when you had first moved in. Maybe you thought he had forgotten or hadn’t cared. Bakugou used to think he understood you pretty well. He wasn’t so sure anymore. He crept in, glancing around. More of your things were gone.

Bakugou whined quietly as he walked further into your apartment. The air stank of burnt and bitter chocolate. If you were so upset you smelled like this, how had he not noticed? He began carefully sifting through the piles that appeared to be for donating. He grabbed a couple old shirts that smelled strongly of you. He tried not to let it hurt when he noticed one of the shirts was an old tshirt you had stolen from him years ago. He knelt on the floor just staring for some time. This was real. You had broken up with him. And now you were getting rid of your memories together and were going to leave. He might never get to see you again. Might never smell your scent again. Or worse, see you with someone else. Smell someone else’s scent on your skin.

Katsuki didn’t fight his tears as he grabbed as many things as he thought he could get away with without it being noticed. In minutes he was back in his apartment, desperately tucking everything into his nest. The smell might last him a while, but not forever. He curled up tightly, pressing his nose into a place where your scent was strong. He couldn’t do this forever. He didn’t know what he could do. As much as he hated to admit it, it was time to ask for help.

And that is all for this time, my darlings! More is in the works and hopefully will get to you much sooner than this part did. Katsuki is starting to pull his head out of his ass, hopefully it's a trend that will continue. TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @luajosephdun-blog, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness, @lonelyheart-clubband, @katsuki-cait, @moonwritters26, @animexholic, @kyrah-williams, @emilymikado, @wolvesblaxe360, @ficklemcselfish, @helena-way07, @fandomsaremylifesposts, @baby-bakuhoe, @sukeraa, l@ucypevensie11, @idk-sam, @katsuki-cait, @weirdestlove, @sasa-slayer, @anime-for-live, @kaidousimp, @bluesdustyflames, @vitheria, @milktea0208, @maristaymulti, @whatdidshesayyy, @memesbyeloise , @fandomsgotmefucked, @killmehe, @shy-panda02 , @skylan666, @missmolliemoo, @misssugarless, @arcticsakura, @queenondeezmatatas, @lordmypantsaresocool, @bluesdustyflames, @am-198, @hornelittleweeblet2, @joonie-centric

Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I’d have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic #denki #fake dating #fake engagement #part 7

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Text

Of Fire and Love (Pt. 7)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Fantasy au!) (Coe-parenting au)

Summary: You dream, nightmares and sweet memories- Yoongi just tries to hold onto you as best he can but he’s never felt so lonely.

Genre: Fantasy! au, gender exploration, Coe parenting au, Dragon! Yoongi x Reader, Dragon! Hoseok x Sorcerer! jungkook, Minjoon, Taejin

W/c: 20.0k

Tags: Angst, loss of hold on reality, violence, non-explicit sexual content (taejin), possessive behavior, genderfluid characters, gender non conforming characters, gender exploration, alcohol mention,

A/n: For those of you who've followed this story you’ll know that I’ve teased there being a hopekook relationship and this chapter touches on their relationship a lot. i dont think it will make anyone uncomfortable because its explicitly stated their love is not sexual- but just a heads up!

- Hoseok and Jungkook cling to the side of a building, their feet gripping the bare inch bricks just narrowly. This library is old, with drafty long hallways and a crumbling facade that doesn't help their predicament, every other brick crumbles when they step to it.

- Every few shimmies Jungkook’s feet slip a little and fear lurches in his gut. he uses every bit of his body to cling. Hoseok has no such misgivings about falling into open space- now the arrows- that might frighten him. Their backs are weighed down with books that make it hard to move, while arrows clang below them against the red stone.

- One almost hits Jungkook’s head and Hoseok shoves it closer to the wall. Panic keeping it laced in Jungkook’s hair, “Keep your head in you idiot!” he shouts over the din and clank of metal armor. The nights and soldiers below them that gather. Every metallic clink against the stone another person come to kill them. Jungkook only grins, but flinches when one strikes closer to Hoseok’s head.

- Searching for books in the human realm isn’t an easy task. Not when all too often they face opposition like this. The humans might be semi-hostile to Jungkook but everyone is out for dragon blood. Enough of the men from this area have already been sent west to the war, but the sheer number of arrows shows that there are still soldiers here guarding this stronghold.

- They hadn’t been here until Jungkook and Hoseok had been spotted. It had been Jungkook’s fault. Dropping a book that echoed loudly- then someone had seen Hoseok’s horns when his hood had fallen and it was all over from there- they’d been made.

- One arrow pins Hoseok’s shirt to the brick as they shimmy along and he rips it loose without a second thought. He can’t shift when it’s like this- it’s too dangerous. Too likely that one of those arrows would hit him and hurt him- unless- “Kookie? any day now!?” Jungkook’s wide eyes are a balm against Hoseok’s frustration, lighting up with blue magic when he puts two and two together. “Oh! Sorry- I’ve got it!”

- The push-pull tide of magic fills the air, trembling with it as Jungkook’s arm glows bright blue along with the whites of his eyes. Every time Jungkook uses his magic Hoseok feels a protective pride flare. Especially when he hears and sees the arrows fall to the ground with a few dozen thuds. Another soldier tries to loose one and it falls like it’s made of lead. Maybe it actually is- maybe that’s the avenue the magic has chosen to take to stop the arrows.

- The soldiers below them stop their flurry brought to awe as the magic makes everything still (even them). The rust crusts in the joints of the armor bringing it to a squeaky halt. The break in the fighting finally gives him an opening to shift. And soon Hoseok is clinging to the side of the tower with claws instead of hands, wings stretching and fluttering. Jungkook gets on his back, a difficult maneuver with the precious books held close.

- One of them slips out and falls onto the stone, and Hoseok swings back around so that Jungkook can lean from his back, hooking his foot around one of Hoseok’s spines and reaching to scoop it up before he rights himself- abdominal muscles straining As he leans over and snatches it from the rooftop.

- Hoseok makes a noise and Jungkook interprets it. “Who you calling a showoff?“ he grins then settles in for a long flight back into dragon territory. A simple strap around Hoseok’s waist keeps Jungkook pinned to his back. It helps to at least elevate some of the strain.

- The first time they’d ever flown 12 hours straight, Jungkook had slid off of his back with a thunk. Looking up surprised at Hobi who’d sniffed through his hair worriedly, wondering why he’d fallen. “I don’t think I can move my legs” his muscles too sore to even clench.

- Hoseok had been laughing when he’d shifted. Helping pull Jungkook up- only to have him fall back down again. “You look like a baby deer Koo, come on- help me unpack at least.” They’d spent the rest of the night huddled around the fire, and not once had Hoseok complained about having to get up to fix dinner or stoke the fire.

- Hoseok and Jungkook have been hunting books on and off for the last ten years, it’s not like they’re unused to unprovoked aggression from the humans. Their two sides are at war- and it’s a wonder the humans aren’t more curious about the ragtag pair of book thieves that have been periodically dipping over the battle lines and raiding their libraries.

- Jungkook wonders what rumors if any, are lingering in the human lands. Jungkook would give anything to keep the smile Hoseok shoots him when he asks one night, “What you think they’ll make urban legends about us in 100 years? Keep your books close and your enemies closer?”

- Whatever the rumors, the pair can only hope that none of them make it back to their father and their uncle. If yoongi got wind of what Hoseok and Jungkook were doing without permission- then he might be tempted to end the war just to make sure they stayed safe. But What Yoongi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If Hoseok and Jungkook were flitting in between the human lands and the dragon lands on occasion just to see if the nearest city even had a library- well then that’s just that.

- Hoseok and Jungkook never spend more than a month or two away from Yoongi and you. The timing of their homestays Often hinging on how successful their search is going and how many books they’ve collected. Hoseok can only carry so much on his back. They don’t mind coming back periodically to visit and drop off another load. If anything- it gives Seokjin and Yoongi an excuse to take a break or two and the young ones an excuse to enjoy a little coddling.

- Yoongi’s doing better, recently he’s started taking more flights like he used to when Jungkook was a kid. The air does him good and he no longer looks like guilt and sadness and longing are eating away at his soul- like he only comes alive when you wake.

- Over the years, Yoongi has read himself into a tizzy more than once. Always to be brought back by Seokjin encouraging him to rest his eyes and put the books down for a day or two. “This just doesn’t make any fucking sense- first the fairy anatomy and then this- if we could only get our hands on- ugh!“

- Yoongi is about to throw the book and would have if Jin hadn’t caught his wrist. snatching it out of the younger mans hand. Before he can- sparks light up the spine. Yoongi’s anger and fire meeting in the middle- the heat dosent hurt Seokjin’s hand as he extinguishes it with a brush of his palm. Cooling yoongi’s frustration with a knowing look.

- “Yoongi, you need to sleep.” Yoongi doesn’t fight him on it though both of them know he could if he wanted to. He’s been up for days and the bags under his eyes look dangerously like bruises. “Rest is an investment into future productivity Yoongi- you can’t read forever like this without resting your eyes every now and then.”

- Yoongi has always found it hard to sleep with you gone, why waste the hours when every second spent brings them closer to a cure for mortality. Yoongi hopes it’s only a matter of time and not a matter of ‘if’ they’ll be successful. that question keeps him awake no matter how many days it’s been since he slept.

- The next time the boys come home carrying a pile of books for Seokjin and Yoongi to go through Seokjin gives them a look, fingering the spine of one. He corners both of them later- when Yoongi’s away in the kitchens putting a meal together. Happy to have them all home the nesting instinct itching under his skin.

- He fingers the edge of Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers hooking through an edge and tearing it further with a rip. His magic flares just as quickly to fix it and the tear is gone before the shock has left Hoseok’s face. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at Hoseok’s surprise. Seokjin is dressed in a flowy deep plum shirt- parted to show his chest, the rock at the hollow of his throat pulsing with life but swimming with something darker.

- He’s rightfully angry, “I know an arrow hole when I see one, where have you both been where you’ve been being shot at? Hopefully not in the human world” He taps the side of the book in his hands, “And I distinctly remember losing this book over a night of cards with a wizard 300 years ago- so there’s that too.”

- “It was only once-“ Seokjin gives them a withering look and they both melt “okay- maybe more than a few times, but you know how frustrating it was? For us to stay behind and-”

- Seokjin knows why they had to but still can’t reconcile that with his protective instincts. Before they can go any farther Yoongi comes back with a plate full of sliced meats. The fireplace crackles happily in response to him and Hoseok helps Yoongi set up a grate to fry it. The same recipe for marinated meat that you used to make them when they were children. A celebratory meal steeped in tradition and familiarity to welcome Hoseok and Jungkook home.

- Hoseok starts the discussion when Seokjin asks- pointedly if finding libraries and old dragon castles in the countryside and in the mountains had been any harder than usual. It has been- they ran out of places to search for books in the dragon lands years ago. Though they still occasionally spot a new one when they go over the mountains again. A hidden hovel or a falling down castle that’s abandoned or inhabited.

- “You’ve said it yourself Seokjin; a good portion of our family's records are on the other side of the world. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Hoseok and I are more than capable of looking after ourselves.”

- Seokjin sighs, running his hands through his hair. Whatever spell he uses to keep it dark must be wearing off, the tips are looking a little silvery these days, it’s Probably stress. The pile of books in the study that they’ve gone through is becoming cumbersome as well they can barely walk around it. There are probably more than 30,000 that Hoseok and Jungkook have collected in the last 10 years.

- What Jungkook’s saying about their family isn’t wrong; Seokjin’s family did settle on the human side of the mountains first. They were responsible for enlightening humanity to the finer parts of magic. Without Seokjin’s family- the humans would probably still be waving sticks around and hoping for gold on the other end. The books they hunt for are the first records and spell books of witches and wizards that were taught by Seokjin’s father or books from the man himself.

- Not that their paltry party tricks could ever compare to the kind of magic that Seokjin and Jungkook were capable of. But the witches and wizards guilds do have strength in numbers. One which might have a droplet compared to the ocean of a sorcerer’s power, but 100? 1,000? That might be enough to match some spells.

- If the struggle at the border was enough to judge the powers of the guild, then they certainly were a formidable force to deal with. Their spells enchanting the humans swords and armor, making them resistant if not impervious to most fire. That was the only reason why the dragons hadn’t been able to immediately decimate the human army. They had to fight the harder way- with tooth and claw and brute force.

- The dragons would always have strength on their side and the humans would always have the numbers and carelessness with their lives. So short- you’d think they’d be more careful with their lives- but no. Over the years the death tolls have risen on both sides. It helps the human’s odds that they outnumber the dragons five to one.

- It’s been years since they left home- though it still feels weird to think of them ‘leaving’ in any capacity since they still come back almost as much as they leave. In the past few years, Hoseok and Jungkook have often flown across the battle lines or near them. But never close enough to see the battle or the carnage.

- Most of the time they divert their course north and fly over the tall mountains through brisk winds that would have Jungkook's muscles chilled for hours. a predicament usually only fixed by Hoseok curling up with his warm throat and chest cuddled around his too cold soulmate. quieting the protective urge in his stomach that said to breathe fire over the sorcerer- some sort of instinct, probably something instinctively dragon that he barely manages to repress.

- They’ve hunted books through the crags of long empty castles, through cities forgotten and new. They spend a good two months last year in the smaller dragon city to the south. Yoongi sniveled his nose up at them when they told him that’s where they wanted to go next. It felt a lot different than the northern city, the buildings rough made from wood and easily burnt and rebuilt. Definitely wilder and less aristocratic than the north.

- It’d burned down in the last war- so it’s no wonder the dragons there seem less attached to the buildings. some dragon had lit their board house on fire the first night they’d been there, roused from smoke and a shout. hoseok had shifted and carried jungkook out with his teeth hooked into jungkook’s shirt- lifting the younger like a cat would a kitten.

- Seokjin had gifted a map to Hoseok for his last birthday. It’s a delicate bit of magic, spelled to be paper-thin and bendable but the ink never fading or flaking off. Unable to be ripped or stained. The little red dot that shows Hoseok’s location and a black dot for Jungkook's. It changes each time they move- so that they know exactly where they are. Hoseok’s dot even gets a little more feathery when he shifts. The ink feeling fuzzy to the touch.

- The battle lines to the south also change too, rusty orange ink rough to the touch- with every league that the dragons push into the human lands ticking a lines with on the map. all So that hoseok knows how far he has to fly out of the way to avoid it if he wants too.

- Jungkook is just a little bit curious to see what dragons look like in battle, but a cautionary look from Jin and his father was enough to extinguish that possibility. “Trust me- it’s not a thing you should want to see” their father had said cryptically. “You never talk about the last war dad- what was it like?”

- “Bloody and long” was all Yoongi had answered. Because in truth- he’d given as much as he could give to that war. The end had left him broken and with the taste of blood in his mouth that just wouldn’t leave. He’d spent months looking for something in the mountains- an itch under his skin that wasn’t for more hoard.

- The wanting hadn’t abated until he met you and known deep in his bones that he’d never fight for another thing in his life. he’d found what his dragon soul hungered for more than gold or diamonds or anything that glitterd. a family- his hatchlings and his mate.

- But Hoseok and Jungkook are fully grown now and Yoongi still finds himself begging them not to go close to that battle- to stay out of it. Feeling like control and safety is slipping through his claws. The thought of both of them- of gentle Hobi and curious Jungkook getting a taste for carnage like that- Yoongi doesn’t ever want it to happen.

- Even though they already did that day in the manor house all those years ago. Still- a father can’t help but want to protect his hatchlings. Even if they’re both taller than him now they’re still his hatchlings. Jungkook especially likes to playfully lean his arm on his shoulders And Yoongi can’t ever correct him. He would let the youngster do anything without little more than an annoyed sigh, just as he had let him swing from his horns when he was a baby.

- When Seokjin had gifted the map, Hoseok had asked why they’re where two dots and not just one. “In case you get separated” the older sorcerer had said, a faint flush on his cheeks as he let Jungkook manhandle him into position on the couch perfect for snuggling. Sending smoke-filled bubbles to smart Jungkook’s nose when he keeps touching his thighs and rolling his eyes at his nephew’s endless touchy feely-ness. But even Hoseok can see the way that Seokjin relaxes with both of them around. Their presence a welcome reprieve from-

- “Yoongi- would you mind not breathing your lizard breath all over your sons?” Seokjin says haughty. Yoongi raises his massive head from where the coffee table should be (moved to make room for yoongi in his dragon form). blinking at Seokjin before his tongue darts out to lick at Hoseok’s hands- ignoring the older sorcerer.

- Hoseok can feel his happiness rippling out from his father at having his hatchlings back in his nest. He flicks his tongue out to hit Seokjin’s palm too and the elder recoils with a disgusted noise that makes Hoseok and Jungkook laugh.

- As if on queue, a book on the shelf falls, interrupting the moment.

- Every head flicks in the direction of the movement, the flecks of dust in the room pause, hanging in its shafts of light. the air too still to be from anything other than Seokjin’s magic or Jungkook’s- it doesn’t discriminate. After another moment. Hoseok gets up and puts the book back. the spine feels warm to the touch and for a moment- Hoseok holds onto it- savoring the warmth before he puts the book back on the shelf.

- There have been more moments like that than they’re all willing to admit, and despite their conversations- no one wants to admit what it is. The things that move on their own or flowers that Seokjin’s watched be plucked and fall to the ground in neat concentric circles. He’d gone out into the garden and found a whole pile of blooms- piles around a suspiciously shaped lump. It’s always the multi colored ones. Those moments are as startling as they are special.

- Everytime you wake Seokjin scolds you for it.

- “You realize the more you try to act outside of the dream world the more likely it is that you won’t be able to return back to your body?” Seokjin had snapped. Tae a happy puddle in his arms. You’re tearing into the food on the table while Tae just nibbles. He’s never hungry in the mornings really. Hadn’t been even when he’d been awake.

- Yoongi wonders if it has anything to do with the little field trips your soul takes outside of your body. The breaks you take from dreaming when you travel as a ghost in their world. Moving books and picking flowers and the countless other little moments.

- “It’s not like I’m trying to control it Seokjin, it just kind of happens. when I watch you guys- when I feel closer to you- it's easier” you definitely do not mention you’re only ever knocked out of your body after you’ve had a nightmare, but Taehyung knows. He looks up at your words, an egg yolk sliding out of his spoon and onto his plate bursting golden.

- Taehyung meets your eyes and you shake your head imperceptibly, and he keeps eating, declining to offer up the information that would surely make Seokjin and Yoongi more concerned. But the clock is ticking- and they only have 18 hours with you this year. No one wants to waste it arguing even if it does scare Yoongi.

- Every time when you wake and it takes a little longer for you to stir, Taehyung always awake and upright before you. Yoongi stroking your back in small circles- calling your name as you furrow your eyebrows and blink awake. kissing your face a few dozen times before you’re truly back. It only took 3 kisses the first year- and now it takes at least 8. Yoongi’s the kind of dragon that keeps track of that sort of thing.

- Later in their own private time together- Tae asks Seokjin with a pout “Why can’t I come out of the dream world to see you guys like she can Jinnie?” Seokjin washes his back in the bath, his hand warm and soapy. Jin exults in washing his love with long strokes, a little scratchy just the way that Tae likes it. just gentle enough to make his love squirm and make the water slosh against the sides of the silver tub. “It's not a thing you should want Tae, none of us know the long-term effects.”

- “But still,” Taehyung’s eyes are like warm honey over peaches, “it would be nice to see you more often.” Seokjin hums a gorgeous sound and Tae relaxes further into his lover's hold. Seokjin’s hands thumbing along his sternum counting his ribs and indulging in the touch. Tae shivers, shifting uneasily in the water, neediness sinking into his core like hot fire. Seokjin’s hand slips below the water and the layer of bubbles.

- “there are any number of reasons why the magic doesn’t want to work on her. It’s been a while and she’s probably just getting used to it, I probably just have to tweak the spell a little bit for y/n” Taehyung sighs, Seokjin’s mouth swallowing a bitten-off moan, kissing down his lovers throat and forsaking his mouth. Tae’s hips rock up, knocking the warm water out of the tub and onto the slate floor with a slosh that neither of them pay much mind to. “I’m not sure I want to hear another name from your lips when you’ve got your hands on me.”

- Seokjin smirks against Tae’s neck, the movement of his hand keeping up its pace under the water. His actions and his sly smirk betraying his words “Why wouldn’t I? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we? Or is something distracting you my love? Would you rather have me chanting your name?” like an incantation- if love were a spell then tae and jin would have the strongest.

- It is nice to see your family even for a few seconds on the occasion that you leave your body. It makes you feel like you’re helping, even just a little bit to watch over them. You try to disrupt something just to let them know you’re there. The first few years- the only thing you can manage is blowing out candles. but it gets easier to move books or make pages flip over as time goes on. and you get to ruffle their hair or pet over it as they sleep Where you stand and watch. Making sure their dreams don’t turn into nightmares.

- You wish you could say the same for your own dreams, but those are far more difficult to control.

- Often Yoongi will look at whatever just moved, and speak into the open air, through the glass barrier of the dream you can barely hear him. But he’ll go to the couch and sit, hold out his hand palm up on the cushion and you’ll touch it. Knowing by the way he shivers- that he can just barely feel the shape of a hand touching his. Yoongi has always had a thing for hand holding. And it’s worth it- just from the way he smiles.

- But too Yoongi it just feels like you’re already a ghost. It just makes him yearn for a time when it wasn’t like this. How will it feel? When he’s been without you longer than he was ever with you? If they don’t find a cure for mortality soon- then he’ll find out. His boys too.

- It feels like he can almost taste you on the air when you come and visit them in-between your naps (its easier for Yoongi to say they’re just that- just really long naps- even if it makes him feel childish, the weight of ‘eternal sleep’ is just too heavy on his mind some days).

- For that reason, he favors his dragon from more than his human one these days. it’s not like he can see you at all in either, but he can tell when you’re there and almost smell you when he’s in dragon form. And that feels more real than curling up around your coffin upstairs (or when he starts to worry that you actually are dead- that you won’t be able to come back).

- It’s been a long time since they started searching but it barely feels like a second to them. Like hardly any time has passed at all. Such is the way of immortals- years pass like months, and days like hours. It’s been years since Hoseok and Jungkook truly stopped aging. They’re both frozen somewhere in their twenties, their hair keeps growing, but their faces never change, their bodies don’t change either accept to get stronger or weaker with the care they show them.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to think about his age when he can help it. He still feels like a little kid whenever Yoongi and Seokjin look at him, sharing a special secret adult look that he’s not sure he’ll ever be capable of giving. He’s very content to stay the baby of their little family.

- But being the baby also means that Jungkook gets treated like a child too.

- “We’ve been over this, it's too dangerous boys,” Yoongi says it like it will make his heart break to see them in danger. If Yoongi knew they’d been shot at- even by one arrow- he’d fly over to the human cities and start leveling them one by one.

- “Not anymore, we’re not kids dad” Hoseok looks fluffed up, his curly hair and wild, so long it almost brushes his shoulders like Jungkook’s. (More than once Seokjin has snipped his fingers threateningly at it, “you both look wilder than the wind I swear, one night I’m going to take a pair of scissors to you whether you like it or not.”)

- That is just another thing that makes Hoseok ache all through his chest, and he’s never been able to put a finger on why it makes him uncomfortable. The thought of needing to have short hair for whatever reason. The same feeling lights up in his chest when Jungkook continues- “ right! we’re not boys- we’re men!” Jungkook’s swinging feet under his chair beg to differ.

- Yoongi sucks on his lower lip, hands tightening over the back of Jin’s chair. They talked about this possibility while the boys were gone, after the last time when they had a similar argument. In the years since your departure, Jin’s taken on something of a parental role with the boys- and it’s nice to have a second set of ears again. Even if it would make both Yoongi and Jin shriek indignantly to be compared to anything like what you and yoongi had. “They’re not children anymore Yoongi, you’re going to have to start letting them take their own risks sooner rather than later”

- “But I already did,” I already let them not be here he wants to say. Every single parental instinct of his telling him to keep his hatchlings close. But it’s better than it was before; now he rarely feels the urge to fly on after them and drag them back by the scruff of their necks. Sometimes when he’s out flying he pretends he’s doing just that.

- Seokjin taps his fingers against the table, sparks dancing between his fingertips. “As much as your parental concern is sweet, you have to admit- nothing can hurt Jungkook or me in any meaningful way.” Seokjin is being as soft as he can be. “You know this, and it's not like Hoseok is unformidable either.”

- Hobi gives Jungkook a toothy grin at that. Seokjin lets Yoongi stew with it for a moment. And the feeling in Hoseok’s chest dissipates. Strange. Though he’s glad to have it gone. Though he knows it will probably have him up later, turning in bed while Jungkook sleeps beside him in the little mock nests they’ve made together since they were kids. Sure that something must be wrong with him- something other than the feeling poisoning the happiness in his chest.

- “If you don’t let them go they might choose to go all on their own. Would you rather find out after? Or before?” Hoseok and Jungkook barely manage to keep a straight face. Their father will put two and two together if they even so much as grin. Yoongi’s pout as he looks down at the table and weighs the options is cute. Under the table, Hoseok’s leg jumps with nervous energy.

- You certainly think letting them go is a better option- standing in the corner of the room, not that any of your family can see you when you’re like this. A specter and a ghost and just as lonely. How your hand itches to reach out and smooth out that pout on Yoongi’s face. But you can’t, not in this form. Upstairs in your glass coffin, your hand twitches. Reaching out to do the touching that your soul wants to do.

- Yoongi can’t argue with logic like that even if he wants to. Honesty and freedom are better than a protective cage and lies by omission on both sides- no matter how loving the cage is.

- “You can go-“ he starts, interrupted by Hoseok and Jungkook’s excited whoops, Jungkook tossing his chopsticks into the hair where they hover and spin like pinwheels, before he jumps to Hoseok’s side, grinning at him while Hoseok pumps a fist in the air. The fire in the hearth flares higher from Hoseok happiness Sending sparks onto the floor. “yahhhhhh you’re going to burn the meat, and this carpet is 500 years old!” Seokjin fans it with his hand as if to knock the sparks off of the carpet and back onto the slate.

- They pull themselves over to Yoongi’s side and drag him into a tight hug, Jungkook pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s cheek in thanks. Yoongi goes stiff at first and then melts as they squeeze him tight. Hoseok hooking his chin over Yoongi’s narrow shoulder. Pulling away only to immediately begin to lay out plans of where they want to go first. Jungkook jumps up to go get that map, already dreaming Cities and wizarding guilds that they only know from the maps and Seokjin’s stories.

- Not that they haven’t been to half of them already- but going there with Yoongi’s blessing is much more exciting than sneaking around behind their backs. There were a few places that they were too worried to brave alone and without backup should something bad happen. But Now they can ask questions and learn where more books might be hidden, what cities to avoid and the secrets Seokjin might know of each.

- “Maybe a little bit of a change of scenery will do you good” Seokjin comments, a small smile tugging at his lips at the boy's excitement. Hoseok almost asks if he wants to come too- just to get out for a little bit. But the moment passes when jungkook unfurls the map in front of the hearth. Seokjin never leaves Tae’s side unless he has to. “I’ll teach you some cloaking spells and the like to hide Hobi’s horns.” His hands hover on Yoongi’s shoulders, reassuring him that he’s made the right choice.

- Weeks later, on the other side of the mountains Hoseok and Jungkook cling to a rooftop again pressing their bodies close to the slate roofs. A few new books in their bag and a group of angry soldiers shouting at them from below the parapet, enchanted arrows seeking them out until Jungkook cuts them off with a wave of his hand, learning to do it first off rather than wait until they are shot at.

- “Was this what we bargained for Hobi?” Jungkook asks with a grin as he looks over at his soul bonded partner. Hobi answers his grin with one of his own. “Maybe more- but I think we’ll raise hell either way.” Jungkook laughs, “imagine dad’s face when we tell him about this.”

- There isn’t a place they’d both rather be.

- Hoseok and Jungkook don’t like to fly at night when they can avoid it. but they need to when they’re closer to the border- where traveling bands of warriors might have sneaked around the battlelines and sunk into dragon territory. It’s safer to sink into the humans lands under the cover of night and fly up ahead. They’ve flown too close to traveling bands of warriors during the day before and though their arrows had fallen short it was still frightening to fly over a hilltop and be suddenly shot at.

- After accumulating a fresh thrush of books in a rather small library from the southern human lands- They’ll head to the coast for a day or two and stay at Jimin’s and Namjoon’s seaside cottage castle crossing over the mountains just north of the battlefield. It would be shorter to just fly straight home. But they have a few more books than usual this time. And the sea air and updrafts will make the flight north easier on Hoseok.

- Too many times have they overshot their load. only realizing when Hoseok had landed to find his once broken shoulder mottled and strained, unable to fly or even move it in human form for several days after. Staying at Namjoon and Jimin’s cottage always brings back fond memories too, though their favorite fairy and uncle Joonie isn’t there of course still south in the thick of the war.

- They’d run into Jimin a few years back- though they still send regular letters north to stay in contact. Jimin had spotted them in the skies and fluttered in their direction. One minute the only thing they’d been able to see was puffy clouds and the next, Jimin falling out of the sky whooping in joy when they saw them. His wings moving so quickly that they where nearly invisible.

- He’d made camp with them and lingered for as long as he could. It was nice to have someone familiar with them on the road. A face that loves them. And Jimin is perfect at giving them the right amount of affection.

- Since the wars started Jimin has split his time between helping Namjoon at the battlefront and going back and forth to the fairy world in an attempt to negotiate an alliance between them and the dragons. he’s Constantly trying to convince the royal family to come to the dragon’s aid.

- It’s not something jimin likes to consider- but if the humans managed to push through dragon land. They’re no telling how far they’d try to go. and if the dragons side seemed bountiful to human kind- then the fairy world would be something out of heaven.

- But just like the last war the fey are refusing to get involved and Just because they won’t help doesn’t mean Jimin won’t. He’s been Namjoon’s right-hand man in the war, the hidden second general to the dragon army. He’d even convinced a few of his brothers and sisters to join in the battle.

- “How do you actually get to the fairy world? Isn’t it like- on the other side of the ocean? Can you fly that far?” they’re stretched out around a fire, the woods a dark and impenetrable barrier beyond their little hallow of sparks. There isn’t anything that the three of them fear in these woods. though they had heard the single howl of a wolf earlier- lonely and echoic in the tall hills that eventually melt into the eastern mountains.

- Jimin had split his affection equally- running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair and head rested on one thigh and then through Jungkook’s on the other. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Even longer since they’ve been small like Jimin misses. It’s hard to reconcile these gangly twenty-somethings with the tiny dragon and human he used to baby.

- Jimin doesn't like to think of the children now, the ones at the capitol without families (orphaned or displaced by the war) or his own...forgotten hopes. War is not the time to want something so gentle. Not when jimin needs to be strong as much for his mates sake as for the world. Jimin needs to forget his own hopes now more than ever. Even if seeing Jungkook and Hoseok reminds him so much of those times when he’d felt like a parent- as close as he and namjoon had ever gotten to having kids of their own.

- Maybe as close as they ever would get.

- Jungkook and Hobi remember seeing the fey ships at the market. Their hulls like skeletons, made of silver and a strange clear material, not glass- but certainly not any kind of wood. Jimin shakes their head at hoseoks question- the fey world is not on the other side of the ocean. It’s an easy mistake to make. “ I don’t think I could fly there if I wanted to-it's more like stepping through a very cold doorway. You can come there with me one day if you want.”

- “Do you think they’d have anything that-“ “that would turn you immortal?” it goes without saying that Jimin knows why Hoseok asks. Sucks on their lower lip as their eyes turned shadowed with your ghost. God- Hoseok shivers, he hates thinking that you’re dead, hates when everyone acts like you are.

- “Probably not, fey have good memories and there isn’t much of a reason to write things down, but it’s still a beautiful city- makes home look like ruins,” Jimin says the words like he wishes he hadn’t already. Because all of them know how likely it is one day- that the dragon city might one day fall to ruins.

- There is more than one live ghost- that threatens to haunt them.

- Jungkook can’t help but remember that day as they get close to where they’d run into Jimin the first time. It’s been a long day of flying, and they crossed over the majority of the mountains in one good push. As the sun dips close to the horizon coloring the world in orange and gold, Hoseok and Jungkook spot a glittering speckle among the forested hills of the Southern part of dragon territory. A small waterfall that runs clear and strong.

- He leans over, gripping the band around hoseok’s waist with one hand and pointing in it’s direction with the other until he gets Hoseok’s attention and he spots it too, listing to the side and settling into a slow dive. Jungkook hooks his feet into the squishy side of Hoseok’s ribs to make sure he won’t fall off. His thighs protesting from the strain of gripping Hoseok’s back for many hours.

- He remembers when they’d been younger- Hoseok nearly flipping when they’d first flown together. Jungkook eager but still nervous on his back, hugging Hoseok’s neck so so tight. Jungkook remembers when his neck got thicker- and suddenly he couldn’t link his hands around it- how he’d clinged with every other muscle in his body- only airborne for a few minutes until they both plumited towards the ground in a way that made Jungkook’s stomach lurch. Tossed onto the soft grass in a flurry of feathers and dandelions puffing.

- They’d both tumbled, Hoseok shifting mid-roll spitting grass and dandelion fluff. “Stop putting your feet there! I’m ticklish!!” he’d laughed. That was a far cry from how he felt now, Hoseok was used enough to it that it didn’t bother him. Jungkook an extension of himself on his back, tucking close when they flew fast and leaning to help Hoseok make those tight turns easier.

- They’re not far enough away from the battlefront that they can entirely let down their guard. But they’re both tired enough to make the risk unavoidable. They’re Only a spare 50 miles away is where the fighting’s thickest. It’s probably okay, There probably isn’t any danger here. Maybe they shouldn’t light a fire- just in case.

- As Hoseok touches down into the pebbled bank of the waterfall his claws sink into the sand with his and Jungkook’s combined weight, buffering the trees with flaps of his wings. Keeping them tucked in tight so that they don’t hit any stray branches. Jungkook slides off his back- hitting the ground with a lurch, almost falling in his tiredness. Jungkook has always had that floppy puppy way about him when he gets sleepy- every bit of his body a little more limp and sweet than usual (if that’s even possible).

- The water runs clear and cold as Jungkook stoops to fill up their canteens, unlatching their packs from Hoseok’s back with a push of magic. The roaring from the falls nearly blocks out the sounds of Hoseok’s bones shifting. His hair windswept, fangs clicking against the ones on his lower mouth- what he needs to say doesn’t necessitate a full shift. “I’m going to circle overhead and find us a place to make camp okay?”

- It’s too dangerous to camp so close to a water source. They can hardly hear each other over shout over the thunder of the falls- let alone any intruders that might try and sneak upon them in the night. Jungkook makes a small noise in agreement, the hours of flying in silence lingering.

- Hoseok can tell his soul bonded partner is only a few minutes away from needing to sleep- probably even forgetting to eat, which is pretty typical as far as traveling goes. Jungkook will push himself to the brink before he drops, and it’s Hoseok’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’d never say anything to Jungkook but it’s a little scary to see the magic sustain him even farther than Hoseok’s own stamina will take him.The magic will suppress his need to sleep and eat the more he uses his magic.

- When Jungkook stretches in the morning, arms above his head pulling his shirt up to show a few inches of skin, Hoseok takes each and every rib that shows as a reminder. As Hoseok circles overhead, he reminds himself that he has to make Jungkook eat something before he falls asleep.

- Hoseok usually does a good job of keeping Jungkook well taken care of and Jungkook takes care of him in turn. Many a night have they curled up together; Hobi in his feathers and Jungkook rubbing soft soothing motions over the sensitive’s scales of his face, they’re never more than a few feet apart these days.

- They go hours without talking during the day, but the silence never bothers either of them. Who else can you truly be silent with if not your soulmate? Sometimes- Jungkook looks at Hoseok and wonders ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking? Or are your thoughts and feelings just as much a mystery as my own are to me?’

- Is it a soulmate bond? Or just a soul bond? Sometimes, Jungkook isn’t sure- and finds himself questioning that which never should be questioned. he’d never asked Jin if his and Namjoon’s bond had drifted into more romantic territory- sensing there was a story there somehow that maybe the younger one shouldn’t pry into.

- Hoseok takes off, the wind from his wings buffering his clothes; the flowers that grow near the waterfall- red and bright, sway under the weight of their heavy nectar.

- Jungkook breathes in then out, settling himself into wait. It’s easier for Hobi to search while he’s not on his back; it’s a little harder for him to make his tight turns with all of that weight altering his center of gravity. No matter how hard he tries Jungkook doesn’t have the same sense of balance that Hoseok has. He’s been unseated by Hoseok landing in trees more than once.

- When Jungkook remembers enough to check back in with Seokjin, the elder is still very intent on teaching him how to alter that. Jungkook may have mastered a hundred or so spells, but he still doesn’t wield magic in the same easy way that Seokjin does. He hears his uncle’s voice now; ‘Breathe in Jungkook, feel the energy around you, the pulse of that which gives things their life- and you- your powers.’

- And ‘don’t get frustrated- you’ve got all the time in the world to learn magic. You can’t expect to be as good as me with only a few years under your belt... especially given the circumstances.’

- It's hard to find time to practice on the road, So Jungkook takes a second for this, closes his eyes, and reaches out, his mind like a bubble, the edges of it swirling and turning multicolored. He feels the offal energy in those red flowers. Poisonous his magic tells him, stay away- sweet but don’t eat. The water turns and curls and he feels the life of the little fish below in the deepest parts, the way the air moves as it falls with the water, and endless hello between the two.

- He’s so calm, so intent on being peaceful (breathing with the slowly moving things that are immortal like him) that he doesn’t hear the rustle of movement behind him. The sharp eyes that have caught his human scent and found it unwelcome here. The dragon in the woods. They eye the thin sword on the ground, the only one Jungkook still keeps for those just in case moments of misfortune.

- Jungkook hasn’t been a sorcerer long enough to smell like the magic, and this far into dragon territory; it’s no wonder why they consider him a threat. Though most dragons know there is another sorcerer alive by now or have heard of him. Yoongi is a historical figure after all, and their family does have proximity to Namjoon and the dragon council.

- Before they exhausted the dragon realms libraries they’d used that to their advantage often. There are many older dragons that own those old castles, charmed by his and Hoseok’s mere mention of the council. Many had asked how their father was doing.

- Hoseok was usually the one who talked with them and heard their grievances; (too many taxes, too few social programs- the usual), while Jungkook raids their libraries and fills out his little booklet so that he knows which books come from where. He and Hoseok aren’t intending to be thieves so hopefully they’ll be able to return them (Most of those books now sit in a pile in Seokjin’s library, pages unturned for years with no drive to give them back- but it’s the thought that counts right?)

- The dragons that hoard books are the worst ones to deal with- always-eyeing Hoseok like he’s here to steal their trove of musty moldy tombs. As if the golden bands that line his fingers and dot his ears now aren’t enough of an indication of where Hoseok’s proclivities lie.

- Hoseok’s hoarded object will be gold, not unlike his father. Though you’d once called Yoongi a crow- only interested in that which was pretty and shiny. Many a time when they were children, Hoseok had watched their father growl at you playfully and snag you close by your waist, snapping his teeth close to your neck and nuzzling there, “maybe that’s why I’ve kept you.”

- Most dragon folks are much more interested in Hoseok than they are in Jungkook. But the gossip mills and rumors haven’t touched the people here this far out into the countryside. No one knows who- or more importantly what Jungkook is.

- Least of all the dragon in the woods.

- The growl ripples and Jungkook straightens, searching in the cover of trees. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He instantly goes on the offensive, the waterfall behind him goes still in the magic as does the softly falling leaves, hovering in the air like baubles- like time has stopped.

- The magic reaches out at the threat with greedy hands, and the shadows part around it, letting in the hazy afternoon goldenness that glints off of sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

- Jungkook is used to dragons more so than he is to humans, but the sight of an aggressive one is still enough to have him nervous. He holds his hand out, showing that he’s unarmed. He sets a foot back- boot sloshing in the water, sending one of their packs tumbling in surprise. “I’m not- I’m not a threat- calm down- I’m no soldier.” his voice shakes.

- He’s never been one to attack first when it comes to dragons But this one stalks forward with Jungkook as it’s prey. Tail raised like its ready to attack. They’re about as old and as large as Hoseok if not a little larger and meatier. Their mouth sparking with bright yellow fire. Eyes angry and unchecked by restraint.

- And still- Jungkook isn’t afraid, and it takes him a moment to realize why, even when he sees the dragon preparing to spit jet of fire in his direction. It’s not that the magic has made him reckless; Jungkook just knows in his heart that nothing can hurt him.

- But if it tries- then the magic might act without Jungkook knowing. The magic will always protect its host and there’s no telling what damage it might do to his opponent. “Please- please don’t do that” why does is own voice sound tired to his ears? “I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you do.” If Jungkook weren’t scared for the dragon’s safety he’d release a tired sigh.

- Nothing is interesting anymore when nothing can hurt you.

- The dragon growls before spitting it’s fire- and Jungkook is just about to hold up his hands to throw the protective bubble around him when Hoseok falls out of the sky. Crashing down in front of him. Wings flaring to stop the fire from crashing into Jungkook. Dealing out a savage kick that sends the other dragon out of the shadows and into the light.

- Jungkook’s breath hitches.

- They’re the same species- or if not the same then similar. Their feathers mix in the fight- Ruddy red yanked out by Hoseok’s claws falling to the ground with Hoseok’s bright crimson coral. Rather spill feathers than spill blood.

- Hoseok doesn’t notice much about the other dragon beyond a particularly strong scent in his nose. When he spotted them overhead he acted without another thought. Air going out from under his wings and fiery anger filling his heart when he saw them. No one flashes their fire at Jungkook without him retaliating.

- He manages to pin the dragon for a moment before they turn, swiping out with their wing. Sending small stones scattering in Jungkook’s direction, One nearly hits his face before the magic hurls it in a different direction. Jungkook flinches regardless.

- For the first time- Jungkook can see the differences between Hoseok and his species. Where Hoseok has dark red feathers on his underbelly they have white golden ones, their secondary feathers are different too- striped with a slightly darker red like blue jays would be striped blue-black. Comparatively- Hoseok is more colorful but less ornate.

- Where Hoseok’s horns go in theirs point out, the other dragon tries to bash their head into Hoseok’s sideways. Hoseok flips them over with a push of his tail. Their wings tangle, flap against the ground in a thwack that leaves the poison flowers crumpled, but then Hoseok get his jaws around the other dragon's neck and the fight is as good as over.

- His growl ripples out along the forest floor making the leaves shake. He doesn’t mean to really hurt them but as the other dragon moves against his jaw and a little bit of blood splatters. A shallow cut on their neck. The dragon continuing to thrash even with Hoseok’s jaws around their throat until they yield. It's obvious that Hoseok is the only one out of the two of them that’s been trained to fight, those sparring sessions with their father and his schooling at the academy paying off.

- The dragon shifts below Hoseok. Red feathers melt away into red-brown hair. the girl that shifts below Hoseok is so much smaller and vulnerable compared to her dragon form. “You’re one of us! Sorry- just got startled by the human!” she’s not scared of having Hoseok’s teeth so close to her, still bent over her with his mouth parted, nearly as wide as she is tall. She pushes his snout away with one hand and Hoseok- blinking perplexed- lets her. She looks like the kind of woman that isn’t easily scared of anything.

- Her clothes are grubby and worn from weeks on the road, her skirt thick and woolen pulled over her legs. She’s doing a good job of concealing how scared she is but Jungkook sees her fear in the slight tremble of her shoulders as Hoseok stays shifted between her and Jungkook as if he doesn’t believe that she won't be a threat anymore. Hoseok’s tail flicks agitated, splashing into the water.

- Jungkook sees another flash of movement at the edge of his vision, brings up his hand in defense as he turns. But the smaller heads in the woods just look curious and frightened. Two other small dragons, a small one sandy with fluffy feathers, a hatchling whereas the other is shifted. Her horns are a deep bronze. They nearly get caught in the underbrush as she cocks her head like a bird.

- “He’s a city thing.” she comments at the smaller dragon, which sniffles and snorts around her waist. He curls around the shifted one with his head hidden behind their back. Shy- Just like Hobi was when he was younger.

- They’re others of his kind, the same species. Jungkook knew they had to exist but he doesn’t know why he’s so shocked.

- Hoseok finally shifts, obviously furious, a head taller than the woman and instantly combative. Her blood a harsh brand at his mouth, red and dripping around his chin. “Don’t you have a little more sense to wait and see if he was doing anything harmful? God-” freaking savages Hoseok curses internally- but then immediately berates himself for that choice of language.

- That kind of rhetoric was the words that dragons from the capital often used to refer to the dragons that wanted to exist out here where they were naturally more comfortable. Unburdened by the comforts and expectations of polite society. The girl tosses her long dark hair, matching his energy with her hands on her hips, “well he should know better than to come into dragon land unaccompanied-“

- “He wasn’t unaccompanied- he has me, I scent marked him this morning, and if you stopped to use your senses instead of just going fire first and thought second- You’d have realized he’s spoken for.” Jungkook remembers the scenting and barely suppresses a flush.

- Hoseok had extensively rubbed his chin all over Jungkook’s chest this morning. They’d been curled up in the dewdrops, staying cozy until the absolute last moment they had to leave the small clearing where they’d made camp, a hanging valley in the mountains. Secluded, safe, and quiet.

- It makes Jungkook shy to think everyone can smell that on him- that they’d been so close. and in the next second he’s questioning his own shyness- what was there to be shy about? Hoseok is his soul-bonded partner so it’s only natural…right?

- The girl sniffs the air, crossing her arms. The shallow gash under her jaw is already healing. Really- it wasn’t more than a scratch, and Hoseok won't feel guilty for that- not when it was her who tried to move when she obviously should have yielded the fight to him. “You’re right- he does smell like you” the way she says this- like she thinks it’s a bad thing but that’s rich when she stinks like something heavy and heady. A sweet scent that’s so strong it hurts Hoseok’s nose. No one else has ever smelled this way to him before.

- Another older dragon dashes through the forest, accompanied by a third- both of them are male and at least as old as Jungkook and Hobi. Hoseok steps a little more firmly in front of Jungkook. Hiding him from view.

- “What’s going on? We heard a roar?” the smaller one asks, though the larger of the two turns to the female dragon his eyes only for her. His thumb running against her blood-soaked throat, checking to make sure she’s not hurt. The second he verifies she’s not hurt he turns his attention to Hoseok, putting himself in front of her the same way Hobi had stepped in front of Jungkook. He even steps up- about to shove Hoseok but she catches him around the waist. Stopping him from hurting Hoseok.

- Jungkook takes a second to size the three of them up- he and hoseok could definitely take them in a fight, he shakes off his trepidation and steps up too- holding the glare of the smaller of the two men.

- More of that smell fills Hoseok’s nose and he wants to choke on it, or gag. Hoseok scoffs, arms rippling in his shirt. (Jungkook’s brain sure chooses the weirdest things to fixate on, but when did Hoseok gain so much muscle?) Jungkook reaches out to tug on Hoseok’s sleeve, “Hobi- it’s okay, let's just go,” Hoseok’s eyes lose their anger the second he looks back at Jungkook, hot fire melting to burning coals.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to be hated by dragons, even if he’s used to it by now and grew up with it. Hoseok’s priorities shift in a second; to getting Jungkook away and where they can be alone and safe unthreatened in their little bubble. He’d rather make sure Jungkook was safe and comfortable than devote any more energy to these people. “It doesn’t matter Hobi.”

- The woman that Hoseok’s fought goes white as a sheet, her knees going weak in a second. “What did you just say?” the beefier male dragon steps forward and Hoseok barely manages the impulse to cover his nose. The other one sends a nervous glance at the two of them, then back at the kids.

- A knowing look shared between all of them, and Jungkook is hit with the realization that something is about to change. And in the same second, it happens before Jungkook can tell what it is and protect Hoseok from it. The woman pushes the beefy man to the side, stepping up to Hoseok.

- “Did you just say Hobi? What’s your name?” the woman is still staring at Hoseok open-mouthed, and all at once- Jungkook sees it. The same way their hair falls, their face shape, their similar small noses, and their eyes. The kind of familiarity that only genetics can cause.

- “My name is Hoseok,” Hobi says, and she rushes forward, tears spilling over her cheeks, Hoseok flinches back from her hands, “I thought you were dead- I thought you were gone- Hoba- I’m so sorry- I-”

- Now it's Jungkook’s turn to put himself in-between her and Hobi. Catching her wrists in both of his. though the larger dragon’s nostrils flare at her being touched- he’s gentle when he takes her form Jungkook’s hold a second before her legs give out and she devolves into sobs. Holding her protectively against his chest as she cries, staring at Hoseok like she’s seeing a ghost.

- Hoseok looks stricken for a moment before it hits him “Dawon- my sister's name was Dawon. Is that you?” she nods, eyes still shining as she drinks in Hoseok, wiping the tears away so she can see him more. The other smaller male dragon grimaces- looking about as uncomfortable as jungkook feels.

- “You have a sister” Jungkook breathes, a weird feeling of betrayal welling up in him. “You didn’t tell me.” Hoseok is scared- that’s the only emotion Jungkook can pin down when he turns, his hand closing around Jungkook’s shoulder, “I didn’t know- I always assumed she’d died. And I haven’t-“

- Jungkook sees something settle between Hoseok’s shoulders, the tension dissipating “I barely remember you. I’m sorry.” And he really is, her sadness doesn't well in him a protective urge- he feels nothing at all but discomfort as he watches a stranger cry over him. He wishes he remembered her like she remembers him.

- “If it helps,” the dragon holding dawon says, “she thought you were dead too” he holds out his hand, “I’m Jinseok and this is my brother Felix, what’s your name human?”

- The little ones seem to be the perfect distraction- the midsized one shifting- while the hatchling bounds forward in their direction. Felix is finally knocked out of his reverie to try and snag them by their feathers but missing at the last moment. They flutter around Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s feet- curious at the newcomers. It gives dawon the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

- The larger one of them barely braves enough to sniff at Jungkook's hand, recoiling when he smells the magic sparking at his nose. Shifting with a pop. Her hair is red-tipped like Dawon’s, but black at the roots. “You smell funny,” she says before she pops back into her dragon form The smaller hatchling brushes up against Hoseok’s legs as a cat would weaving between his ankles.

- Though he doesn’t say it aggressively, Jungkook still feels his annoyance prick at this and at the whole meeting. “i’m Not human- but my name’s Jungkook, I’m Hoseok’s brother,” the small one shifts back and forth with a crack, “how can you be his brother if you’re not a dragon?”

- “Areum!” Felix scolds. trying to grab at her again as she shifts and darts away. “It’s okay- we- we can talk about it,” Hoseok says, Hand smoothing over the head of the smaller one, the hatchling presses up into Hoseok’s hand.

- As Dawon gets her feet underneath her the other dragon- Jinseok- who hoseok gathers is her mate judging from the way he’s been trying to comfort her steadies her with a hand on her elbow. He’s significantly meatier than felix- who like Hoseok is lithe and delicate by comparison.

- And Jungkook knows without being able to smell him that maybe- this means he’s an alpha. Not all dragons split themselves up into designations of alpha, beta, and omega. When they were younger Jungkook pored over every book they could come by about dragons to learn about Hoseok’s type.

- “Why are you even reading about me- you know you can just ask Namjoon right?” Hoseok had teased in the old library of their manor house, a book from jimin’s library on the study table. “Cuz I wanna know everything about you- don’t you want to know too? Which one you are?”

- “Not really- it doesn’t matter to me” and maybe back then it didn’t. Neither Namjoon or Yoongi were the kind of dragon that split into designations and neither could tell. Jungkook wonders if that’s still true. If Hoseok still doesn’t know- it’s been so long and Jungkook’s never asked, he wonders if the others can tell.

- “Come this way- we’ve already set up camp and you both should join us,” the smaller one shifts finally, hair fluffy and red-blond just like their feathers, tugging on Dawon’s skirt. He’s a soft sweet thing, barely more than a toddler. “why is it all like that unnie?” pointing behind Jungkook and Hoseok.

- They all turn, and Jungkook isn’t at all surprised to see the waterfall still frozen in time, no sound of it tumbling, still the same way it was when Dawon first attacked. The other small dragon tries to touch the water's edge and finds it impenetrable. Like it’s glass.

- Jungkook leans down and runs his hand through it letting it ripple slowly- much to the excitement of the youngsters who stand on the surface. Pouncing and trying to break it. Neither of them can break through the surface like Jungkook. “Kookie,” Hoseok asks, “sorry- that’s my fault.” He holds up his hands and with a flash the water unfreezes and resumes its rushing and roaring. The older child falls ankle-deep into the water, squawking and splashing back to the shore- Shaking her feathers out.

- The dragons go white, Felix mutters a low curse. “We’d heard about another sorcerer- but we didn’t think” Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs, picking up his pack, suddenly shy. Still Hoseok and Dawon stare at each other- this time not trying to get close.

- Jungkook sighs, the heaviness in his chest aching. “You said you had camp set up already?”

- Hours later after the fires been stoked and the foods been made and the sun has set, Jungkook tries not to let the food in his mouth taste like ash. Rolling it against his tongue, the meat-rich with spices as he watches Hoseok and Dawon from across the fire. Ignoring the clamor of Felix wrestling the hatchlings into a makeshift nest.

- at one point tonight Hoseok had mistakenly referred to the two hatchlings as his sister’s children and she’d laughed, her mate blushing and melting underneath her playful look. They’re not her kids, but that they’re all orphans from one of the last attacks at the border before the war began. In much the same boat as Dawon was when their nest was destroyed. The group of three are on their way north to drop the youngsters off in the capital before they head back to the battlefront.

- the two children seem terribly attached to the group of three- Hoseok comments on this. Felix looks down at the small one- the little boy curled up in his lap, cheek pillowed against Felix’s thigh. His voice hushed and pained “We want to fight. Even if it means we have to leave them, we can’t take care of them like they need to be taken care of.”

- Jungkook doesn’t say that you were younger than he was when you first started taking care of him and Hobi. But things are significantly faster passed for humans. And maybe parenthood has more to do with personality and attitude than age. If Jungkook had to judge it- he’d say that out of this group- Felix seems the fondest of the hatchlings.

- Jungkook doesn’t intrude much onto their conversation. For the most part he just sits across the fire with his empty bowl and listens. Nursing his skein of wine that they’ve so graciously gifted him and Hoseok. Marveling at the refilling spell that jungkook shows them half way through the night when it begins to run dry.

They don’t notice the difference- but to Jungkook the wine tastes flat and bitter the magic stealing away the joy of its taste. There are some things that the magic just can't recreate and maybe jungkook’s just sensitive to that.

- But it does enough to liberate his anxiety regardless; Jungkook’s head is spinning as he watches the dragons, feeling apart from them on the other side of the fire. The two youngsters sleep on soft packs a little bit away, packs piled up to keep the light of the fire out of their eyes.

- “How did you- how did you survive? Did you run away?” (The memories that Jungkook’s seen flicker back across his eyes, a tiny Hoseok sitting in a treehouse nest, hiding until his mother came. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment” and then Hoseok leaving, heading out into the fray of the battle. So small and so so brave.)

- Jungkook tightens his lips. Hoseok knows what he saw that day when he became a sorcerer and they don’t have many secrets between the two of them. But this feels too private for Jungkook to pipe up. The fact that he might be the only one of the three of them that has a clear picture of what happened that day lingers on his mind.

- Jungkook wonders, and has asked Seokjin about how, and why- the magic showed him what it did. ‘I think it probably wanted you to understand, wanted you to know what had happened and how it did. Every sorcerer has a different specialty, maybe yours is time.’

- “I almost didn’t, I went out to fight but our parents were already-“ Hoseok cuts himself off. Everyone knows what happened and he doesn’t need to say it in any detail. “I went back for you- but you weren’t there- and the others were leaving.“ she doesn’t need to say anymore. Takes a swig of her wineskin too, the words rolling off her tongue better with the alcohol lubricating them. “Two other hatchlings got killed because I went back to look for you.”

- Hoseok doesn’t have anything to say about that. He’d been as good as dead, and she must have been about 11 when the attack happened. Hoseok would tell her that he forgives her but really there’s nothing to forgive. “What have you been doing since then, where did you end up?” Hoseok needs to ask- needs to know. What could have been his life if Yoongi had never found him?

- It says something that this woman in front of him left him for dead, while their father didn’t. Now that her scent buffs over him from the hot wind he thinks he recognizes it. In the first few weeks he’d been with you he remembers missing her scent. Longing to curl up around it and the rest of his nest.

- Hoseok remembers smelling Jungkook His snout pressed to Jungkook’s black curls trying to recreate the same smell. It smells kind of like family- but not really. Jungkook would never smell the same way she did- and that was a good thing. Hoseok subtly leans away so that more of it doesn’t get in his nose. Craving Jungkook’s clean sweet scent across the fire.

- “I ended up getting adopted by their rookery” she gestures to both of the boys Felix leans back on his hand's feet playing with the soil while he gazes at her fondly. Felix is the only one of them who doesn’t have horns, instead- his dragon mark manifests itself in his clawed feet.

- That’s how I would look at her if we’d grown up together Hoseok thinks. It’s clear they’re close though he can already tell her bond with the alpha runs deeper than her bond with him. “Their parents died three years ago in one of the first battles, we were sent north to the city and the academy before we were approved by the council to head south when we found them.”

- “Hoseok studied at the academy too” jungkook supplies quiet, no one but hoseok acknowledges he spoke.

- In their little nest, the two hatchlings breathe on, “we were trying to make it to the battlefront to finally fight but now that we’ve got them- we’re on our way back to the city.” Hoseok sees the way that Jinseok touches her hand, soft and cradling. It’s strange to Hoseok, who doesn’t often pick up on the scents of other dragons that those of his own kind smell so strong.

- Dawon smells sweet and cloying, like a baked cake or like an overly ripe fruit. Nearly spoiled. Whereas Jinseok smells like incense and burning oranges (a smell that Hoseok finds it hard to like to be honest), and Felix smells like the edge of winter and fall, clear air, fresh in a way. Other dragon’s scents have never been so pungent to him- even his own. if they smell so bad he wonders what he must smell like.

- “How did you…” Hoseok’s eyes hover on the tender way they hold each other hand, Jinseok brushes over the scent gland on the inside of Dawson’s wrist something so intimate and gentle. He can see the way she viscerally shivers. “You’re both mated right?” he asks, wants to know, both of them blush but nod eagerly.

- Felix leans back further. “I told them to wait until after the war but-“ he lifts his shoulders, “when you know you know.” Dawon smiles brightly in his direction, knocking her forehead with Jinseok. “You’re not-” Dawon sends a glance in Jungkook’s direction as if shaking her head at the very thought. Jungkook bristles (and so does Hoseok) but as if sensing some sort of possible conflict, Felix pipes up. “It makes sense that you’re not since you're like me, we don’t often mate.”

- Confusion replaces the tension as everyone turns to Felix, Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow. Something’s not lining up “what do you mean?” Jungkook asks. Hoseok is wide-eyed “how am I like you?” Felix- seeming to realize that he’s overstepped or supplied information that he shouldn’t have, has the good sense to look a little bashful. “You didn’t know? You’re a beta-”

- Hoseok and jungkook share a startled glance, hoseok's hands shake a little- he tries to hide it- but Jungkook notices (Jungkook always notices). Hoseok had never thought it mattered- but now it feels like it does. the way that felix says it- like it’s something to be happy about. “You didn’t know? ah- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to”

- “It’s alright it's just-” Hoseok looks down his hands tightening into fists, a small smile pricking at the corner of his mouth. “I’m a beta?” Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s slipping even further away his breath hitching. Felix relocates to Hoseok’s side, taking his shaking hand in one of his “yes, you’re a beta- like me. there aren’t many of us left- even fewer now, but you’re a beta Hoseok.”

- Jungkook can’t stop himself, physically can’t keep himself in his seat at the sight of Hoseok and the other beta sitting so close on the tree stump. The way his sister seems so close on the other side in Jungkook’s spot. Felix touches Hoseok’s neck- the spot where Jungkook knows his scent gland is even if he can’t smell Hoseok the way the dragons do. explaining to hoseok what he smells like- It makes Jungkook’s blood boil with an acrid something that feels like wanting and shame at being so impossibly jealous.

- So he gets up and walks to the edge of the makeshift camp trampling someone’s feathers as he goes. Hoseok starts after him and the alpha makes an unhappy grunt at Hoseok leaving. Almost reaching out.

- Logically Jungkook knows Jinseok is his sister’s mate- so of course, he’d be worried about her younger brother leaving- especially if it hurt the feelings of Dawon. But Jungkook can’t help but hate that they’re already trying to stake a claim over Hoseok. Typical alpha behavior already trying to exert his will over someone he barely knows.

- Jungkook doesn’t know if Hoseok had felt his displeasure down the threads of their bond, but he calls Jungkook’s name again as he stalks into the woods. Jungkook ignores it, stomping carefully through a grove of ankle-high toadstools that glow a faint pink. They’re enough like to see by, and they illuminate the forest in great swathes. A fairy lifts its head from the surface as he jostles one, hissing in Jungkook’s direction as he disturbs their sleep.

- “Kookie slowdown- just STOP” Hoseok has never shouted at Jungkook and sounded like that. Jungkook’s so surprised he stops in his tracks. He steps on a toadstool and it winks out- the rosy glow beneath them diminishing. A flurry of sprites are startled from their hallow by hoseok's shout, the cloud moving sleepily away from the clearing, wings whistling in the quiet. When he turns around, Hoseok’s stricken expression is lit from below, his lower lip glossy from the wine.

- One of the things about their bond is that Hoseok doesn’t have to wonder if Jungkook is upset. He can feel it echoing hot into his own body, jealousy and anger and deep underneath- fear. Fear that Hoseok had found something he’d been looking for that Jungkook couldn’t offer.

- Jungkook can’t get the happy expression out of his head- the way Hoseok had looked when they’d told him. “I’m a beta” the smile like an answer he’d been searching for but hadn’t found. Jungkook couldn’t fit into that system- couldn’t be an alpha or a beta or omega. He could just be Jungkook.

- And For the first time, being only that doesn’t feel like enough for Hoseok. Hoseok had never cared that Jungkook was a dragon or human but now it feels like it matters.

- “Do you- are you going to stay with them Hoseok?” Jungkook’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. Hoseok recoils at the mere suggestion of it like he’s just been slapped “what?! Of course not- we’re going to leave in the morning? And then they’ll head south. Dawon and I have already talked about it while you were getting firewood.” Hoseok reaches out to grab Jungkook’s wrist but Jungkook takes a step back- out of Hoseok's reach.

- “It didn’t look like you had any intention of leaving just then” Hoseok steps forward into Jungkook’s space. Between them, personal space rarely exists, but now, Jungkook feels like he he needs some. Jungkook never thought their bond might hurt- but now he’s worried it is.

- “You don’t need to be scared Kookie,” Hoseok says because he can feel his fear, “I don’t want you to feel scared.” one of the terrible things about their bond is that Hoseok can feel everything every emotion. Good and bad, secret and shared all wound in an anxious ball that only Hoseok can tease through.

- “Maybe it would help- if I knew what you were thinking” because thoughts and feelings aren’t the same things. hoseok knows jungkook is feeling this way- but can’t understand why more than a good guess.

- Jungkook sits on the edge of a stump, a fallen tree, and beside him, Hoseok stoops to sit too. Careful to rearrange their feet so that they don’t hurt any of the toadstools, through the underbrush they glimmer and bloom more brilliant than flowers.

- They remind Jungkook of the flowers that grow in aunty Jimin and uncle Namjoon’s house. Jungkook doesn’t watch them, leaning his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, looking up at him from his perch. After a second, Hoseok pulls him closer, pacifying him with the contact.

- Hoseok starts slow. “You know im different.” it seems silly to say- to voice this when jungkook can feel the otherness in his bones. “that I feel like I’ve always been in-between kind of in the same way that Jimin’s been in-between.” jungkook’s egear nodds encourage Hoseok on to talk more.

- “I’ve never been worried about it because I knew- I know whatever it is- that I feel loved- I know you love me.” Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to shake in his chest, lit from below. Hoseok reaches out, touches his cheek in just the right way that Jungkook knows it’s not- not that sort of love. The thing that’s built itself into something formidable in his chest.

- A love that is neither purely platonic nor brotherly or romantic- something different and new and definitely not sexual but still love. Hoseok is apart of Jungkook’s soul in a way that nothing else could be. There is no space left in his heart. Nothing left for anyone else. All of Jungkook belongs to this and their bond.

- Briefly, he wonders if maybe all this confusion is just Jungkook’s magical body getting re-used to the bond. Jis magical body can feel it so much more than his human body ever could.

- “I know” Jungkook feels breathless- but the whole in-between thing, he knew that too. For years Jungkook Has watched Hoseok battle with his hair enough times to know that the frustration was deeper than any superficial change. Jungkook has seen the looks- the longing when he sees something pretty and golden.

- When they were younger, Hoseok jokingly put on one of your corsets, almost too big for him. You’d loved it- thought it was just the cutest thing and hadn’t made him take it off until bedtime. “I promise you don’t want to sleep with it on Hoseok.”

- “This- all of them- Dawon” Hoseok takes Jungkook’s hand- more of a routine then any motion- and unlike before Jungkook lets him. “that just feels like a reason for all of that- that discomfort. If i’m a beta- then it all makes sense you know? but still I-”

- Hoseok steals himself to say the next words sighing them out “-I don’t think I could love anyone the way that mom loves dad you know” Jungkook thinks those words should hurt. But they don’t. He’s been thinking about the pain recently. How their father is their mother’s constant shadow, a ghost that cannot sleep, a love that haunts more than it loves.

- No question. Yoongi would tear apart himself for you if given the chance. But Hoseok- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’s ever felt something like that with such intensity. Sure he’d fight to the death for Jungkook and fight even harder if something was to separate them. But was that foundation built on the same kind of love? Could more love even fit in the space of his heart- with so much Jungkook already filling it up? Could this love change when it has no room to grow?

- It would be easier if they were bloodily related, jungkook realizes- then there would be no question. But the fact of the matter is that any romantic relationships that they might have with other people would feel like too much of a betrayal on both sides.

- Hoseok and Jungkook cannot love each other the way Yoongi loves you. and yet- Jungkook doesn’t want that with anyone else. Can’t even think about loving someone who isn’t Hoseok. Jungkook holds Hoseok’s hand to his face for one moment, then lets it go- lets the idea of this fall away, “I’m sorry for getting angry- let's go back”

- When they go back Hoseok sits next to Jungkook on the log. The others give them both a measured look- like theyre trying to find any remaining discord between their bond, leaning back satisfied when they find none.

- Jungkook doesn't need to know what they talked about while they were gone. Especially when hoseok immediately launches into another conversation with dawon- talking through their childhoods- and the parents that they’d both eventually found. “I think you’d really like my mom, she’s like a healer- a good one too” Hoseok can’t help but boast. “Healed my shoulder after-“ he trails off but tilts to show her how he can roll it.

- Jinseok comes over and inspects Hoseok’s shoulder, tilting it between his big hands and unlike before- it doesn’t make Jungkook jealous, (but that might have something to do with Hoseok’s hand on his thigh). Jinseok’s eyes are appraising when he lets it go “of course you healed! I’ve taken a few tumbles myself over the last few years. Almost thought my tail was gonna fall off that one time.” Felix laughs and Dawon rolls her eyes at it. “Yes we’re all aware of your stupidity that one time when-”

- “You’ll always be my person Kookie- I don’t need anyone else. I don’t want anyone else” Hoseok tells him when they’re pressed close underneath their bed things, set out underneath the stars. They’re both Significantly more full of wine than they’d been before and Hoseok’s words are nearly slurry.

- “I think…I think I might be a little broken.” Hoseok’s says like the words are a secret, eyes fluttering with tiredness. Jungkook presses closer in reply like Jungkook is making up for pieces Hoseok might be missing. He presses his forehead to Hoseok’s. Hoseok smells like home- Hoseok will always be home to Jungkook.

- “If you’re broken, I’m broken too” Jungkook’s words are cushioned against the skin of Hoseok’s shoulder. That night, Hoseok lies on his back and Jungkook slings a leg over his thighs. they revel in the closeness, loving every moment.

- Jungkook is already asleep- but Hoseok speaks anyway. “I don’t need anything else but you Kookie.”

- The next morning the two groups part ways. Dawon hugs Hoseok so tight that Jungkook feels his own spine ache a little. Hoseok must have explained to her last night about their goal of saving you. she seems like she understands why they need to leave. But Even so, she’s a little teary-eyed, reluctant to let him go. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hoseok nods, his red curls bouncing, not a hit of hesitation.

- Hoseok hands her a little scroll. If they do make it to the Southern front where Namjoon is, the scroll will make sure that she and her flock are well taken care of by their uncles. Hoseok thinks that Jimin and Namjoon would like his older sister. That she’ll fit in well with the army.

- It isn’t until a few days later when they’re staying at uncle Namjoon and Jimin’s house that Jungkook and Hoseok have a chance to talk about any of it again. Jungkook could feel the flickers of uncertainty down their bond, judging that Hoseok needed to parse through his feeling and figure out what he needed to say.

- They only stay for the night, happy to have a familiar bed instead of curling up under the stars before they fly north. The house is empty besides them, though a housekeeper still comes by every day to water Jimin’s plants and make sure too much dust doesn’t settle.

- They ready for a long day of flying in one of the many guest rooms. Jungkook is just leaning down to tie his boots when he catches Hoseok looking at himself in the mirror. Running a brush through his curls. Hoseok thinks back through his memories of this house- and of the fairy and dragon that should be here with them. And particularly- words that Jimin said to Hoseok long ago when he’d asked about Himin’s gender.

- Hoseok can’t remember how old he was- but he remembers the fairy bending down to his level in the garden. “To tell you the truth, being a girl or a boy doesn’t matter much in our part of the world. What matters is that you’re good to the people who need you and kind to the people that don’t when you meet,”

- Its that memory that gives Hoseok the strength to finally meet Jungkook’s gaze in the mirror. “I think…I want to grow out my hair.”

-“Like aunt Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, standing and moving to stand behind him, Jungkook’s hands play in the small hairs at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and he leans forward to sniff, Hoseok already smells like the ocean. “Yeah” Hoseok looks worried- like it might not have Jungkook’s approval. the set of his shoulders tense like he’s readying jungkook to say something negative. But there isn’t a change he could make that would put Jungkook’s love and devotion in jeopardy. hoseok knows that but the worry still lingers.

- Jungkook tangles a hand in Hoseok’s hair, his reflection grinning back at Hoseok- Boyish and beautiful in a way that makes hoseok ache. “We’ll grow it out together” and they do, flying back and forth across the world. When Jungkook cuts his- Hoseok doesn’t. All until it’s down to his shoulders. The first time Yoongi sees he doesn’t even mention it- not even a little bit- too busy preening and what can only be called nesting.

- It’s something he’s started to do over the years to relieve his stress, piling up every single soft thing in the room around where your glass coffin is. No doubt preparing for you’re waking in a few days. A healthy flush in his cheeks that hadn’t been there last time they’d been home.

- Seokjin doesn’t say anything, but he does tug on the end of Hoseok’s hair, twining the long red strand around his fingers. He doesn’t say anything like he might have before, sensing Hoseok’s tenseness. He leaves a few spells tacked to his and Jungkook’s door spells for hair lengthening and to change the color should Hoseok desire it.

- Yoongi is so happy to have them home he doesn’t even notice anything’s different until the day Hoseok gets into your makeup collection. It’s only for them, just a tiny bit of rouge on his cheeks and to plump up his lips. Yoongi puts down his book when Hoseok walks in, eyes tracking him as he walks in. and Hoseok feels the worry sink underneath their skin before Seokjin taps Yoongi with his book, and they both go back to reading.

- But when Hoseok goes to his room later he finds a tiny pile of cosmetics on his bedside table. A delicate sea green brocade shirt that’s flowy- all but the sleeves opaque and embroidered with tiny flowers. It looks like something jimin would wear and Hoseok touches it with a reference he doesn’t quite know how to handle. A fondness growing in his heart.

- The next time they leave, Yoongi corners him, while not corners him- but sidles up to him while he’s on the back patio when the sun is just cresting over the trees just past sunrise. Hoseok might be an early riser but Seokjin and Jungkook still need a little while to sleep. “So, should I call you she now? Is that better for you?”

- Trust yoongi to go straight to the point. He’s so awkward, so cagey and quiet. So obviously wanting to offer comfort and understanding but unsure how to reach out. He’s used to using the rolling pronouns with jimin, but to use them for his son- his child- will take a second. It’s better to ask than wonder.

- “No, not yet- if ever.” and then in the quiet of the morning, a simple truth, “they is fine for me dad.”

- “When did you know?” Yoongi has to wonder, had you and him not being open enough? You’d both never talked to Jungkook and Hoseok about jimin, but you’d both believed you’d raised your children to come to you when they had a question or a concern. And Yoongi doesn’t like the idea that Hoseok could have been holding onto these feelings for some time. too afraid to be honest.

- Hoseok doesn’t answer right away, because there isn’t a good one. Was it the way he’d never played with strictly the girls or boys in grade school? The way he’d often found himself clinging to you and wanting to dress in your pretty fabrics than the drab black clothes his father favored?

- it was hard to tell what if anything had made Hoseok first question their gender. Did his betaness cause it? Or was the difference caused by not settling purely into one side? “I met my sister.” is all he can say, the only bit of information it makes sense to proffer up.

- That- out of everything they might have said does get a reaction out of Yoongi. his hands tightening on the edge of the stone wall. “I didn’t know she was still alive.”

- “Neither did I” Hoseok busies their hands with playing with the flowers that have gathered along the rock wall, small and pink. The ever spring around them so delicate and careful. The exact way that Hoseok feels today. “She told me I’m a beta, and after that- it all kind of makes sense?”

- Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, turns his golden eyes on his…child. (That train of thought will take some time getting used to) “Well if there’s anything I can be doing better- let me know okay?” he pulses Hoseok in for a quick scent mark, and the sudden affection nudges a purr from Hoseok’s throat. But overall the conversation just leaves them feeling soft and taken care of, understood and accepted in a way Hoseok had never realized they’d craved.

- By the time they leave, Yoongi is pushing a small velvet sack of coins in their directions. “You should get a few things that fit you better the next time you're in the city.”

- And they do, Hoseok and Jungkook work their way through the cloth market with a vigor they haven’t found in years, fine silks and velvets- perfect for the cold weather up north. Most in rich tones of gold, purple and red- red is Hoseok’s favorite color. Hoseok gets their ears pierced on a whim- fills his studs with little bits of gold that make them glow when they catch sight of themselves in a mirror.

- And when they come back after a day of shopping. It's Jungkook who pulls him close. Running a finger over the corner of their mouth to correct the placement of their lipstick. A fresh tube. Sometimes Hoseok doesn’t bother putting it on, or with the more cumbersome pretty clothes, but if they’re going to see anyone, even if that someone is just Jungkook- the red lip color stays.

- When you wake a few months later; you cup Hoseok’s cheek- hands still a little shaky and reluctant to move. “You look-” you search Hoseok’s eyes for something- anything that would show misgivings, “it looks so pretty Hobi” Hoseok plays with their fingers in their lap. It’s a cute behavior, one that Jungkook’s noticed appears more as time goes on and hoseok gets more comfortable with changing their body.

- “Don’t you mean handsome?” they say, swallowing back a lump in their throat. Their long hair is pulled back today, to give the same appearance of masculinity at least from the front. Jungkook braided it this morning, he’s been learning how to do it for hoseok- not quiet as nimble with their fingers yet like Jungkook is. The moments in the morning when Jungkook brushes their hair and winds it back- are some of his favorites- the soft moments he can spend with hoseok. Hoseok didn’t want to scare you too bad, from the front- they almost look the same. “Not if you don’t want me to mean it. You can be pretty too.”

-It’s not until the next time Hoseok and Jungkook set out that they actually quantify it in words. “I think I’m like Jimin- well not- like jimin. But I think I could be.” aunty and uncle Jimin, who’s just as comfortable in a skirt as they are in a pair of pants. Jungkook leans over, combing through Hoseok’s long hair. Reaching down to the sensitive spot between his- their shoulders. “Okay” is all he says, but his smile is sweet even in the light. “That’s okay with me Hobi.”

- And it is- it always will be, as long as Hoseok has people like this, the ones that have always made him feel like it was safe to be himself- no matter what form he wants to take. Hoseok will be okay. At night, their arms tighten around Jungkook. “I want you to be okay too Kookie” Jungkook sleeps on, oblivious to the turmoil-taking root in Hoseok’s heart.

- Yes, he loves Jungkook, but can Hoseok really love in the way that Jungkook needs? Are they just keeping each other from happiness or is this the only thing they’ll ever need?

- In his arms Jungkook dreams fitfully. But down to his core, he knows If there was ever a time when he felt like he needed more from Hoseok- if what they have ever felt like not enough, He’d never do anything about it. Never ask for more. Never. They don’t need anyone else- no lover, friends, or mates. Just each other. Their bond will always be enough.

- The days spent waiting pass like sluggish honey for Yoongi, sweet when they meet the tip of his tongue but only a hint of the sweet eternity he promises you. They blend together for you- more than the dizzying cacophony of dreams. Sometimes you forget where you belong, and forget that you have to wake up.

- When you can- you strong arm and squirm your way into wherever he is, curled up around you and set a hand on his scaly cheek, there is a limit to how far you can go from your body, and that seems to be a fair mile from where you sleep. So if you wake when Yoongi flies, it’s enough to be able to sit in the garden and enjoy the flowers and sunlight. Every time you manage to knock yourself out of a dream, you can go a little bit farther. Like your soul is getting used to how it feels outside your body.

- And when you do actually stay in the dream world- lucid dreaming becomes an avid habit of yours. Taehyung teaches you how to do it. As dangerous as it is lovely to feel real things when you can, you do often get lost in the way you can change the world you’re in. Are you a god? Or just a dreamer? Taehyung’s hand in yours keeps you tethered. You wonder how he managed to keep his sanity living alone like this for so many years. In the dream world- days are years and years are eons.

- And what makes it worse is that you know it won't feel like so long when you wake- the sluggish feeling that not so much time could have passed even though you know it has. The spell around you keeps you dreaming like it's been days, while your body lives those hours as a second. Your mind and your body age out of sync.

- Yoongi’s timed it before, every hour he sees your chest rise and fall. One breath for every hour

- You feel like you’ve spent years in the dreams at this point, recreating each of your wildest fantasies. Though some feel too real not to be born of your memories. You dream of The walls of your cavern home that you haven’t gone back to in years, feeling the cold stone with a warm body behind you- Yoongi. Or hours spent just outside the front doorsteps of your manor house, waiting for Yoongi to come home with Hoseok while Jungkook plays in the field.

- Flowers that flash like beacons out of the corner of your eye, and then it’s not only Jungkook but Hoseok playing in the field too. Both of them running through the field and casting the dandelions onto the floor that spark like embers. Yoongi chases after them- both of them barely come up to his waist. You watch it from the corner of your eye knowing it will feel less real if you turn your head and look at the memory directly.

- The smell of cooking peaches stings in your nose- sour- and you know if you went into your house you could probably find taehyung there- cooking a peach pie. Though it’s a toss up if it would actually be him- and now just a memory you don’t have confused in this.

- You Watch as Hoseok flashes red from human to dragon tackling Yoongi to the ground with a warped grumbly giggle. Jungkook is quick to flop on top with one hand fisted and knocking against Yoongi’s chest, the other buried in Hoseok’s feathery coat.

-It makes you smile- the dreams- these memories are the only thing that makes you remember you’re dreaming. Because you know Hobi and Jungkook haven’t been that small for years. Your children are fully grown now.

- You wish you could go back to those times when it was simpler. And the dreams let you do just that, again and again until the memory barely feels real.

- What surprises you the most are the nightmares. They always bleed into your dreams the moment you least expect them and when you truly let your guard down. Ink darkening the edges of this story before you realize the badness is bleeding through. Anger and a wordless hunger tainting the happy moments.

- You dont think the anger comes from you- maybe its anger from the dream- the world that has found you an unwelcome guest. People aren’t supposed to sleep for so long. And the dream world tries everything it can to get you to wake up.

- Maybe it’s worried you’ll learn how to dream when you’re awake.

- The worst part about the nightmares aren’t the fear- It’s not the falling through the sky, or faceless men chasing you, monsters, or tragedies that you can’t escape. It’s that the nightmares don’t feel the same as when you were awake, no blurry edges- everything too real. These nightmares are born of your memories only to be twisted by the dream world into something more sinister.

- Sometimes you feel like they’re showing you the future- or if not the future- then something that could have happened to your family.

- The nightmares show you realities where Jungkook still wants to be a warrior. Ones where Yoongi never found him and you all meet another way, Not as a family but as enemies on the battlefield.

- In the nightmare, the war has come earlier with Yoongi at the head of the council. And he’s become everything he always feared he could have been, those whispered confessions he’d uttered to you and you’d uttered back under only the cover of darkness. “I think I might be a bad person” “it doesn’t matter if you’re good- just that you’re good to us Yoongi, and for the record- I think it shows the content of your character that you care so much- even when caring hurts”

- In the nightmare world He’s everything he would have been without you. Easily tempted to war without knowing softness and love, without having something to protect. And he’d never chosen a mate either- Yoongi is as lonely and touch-starved as he is bloodthirsty and violent.

- In this nightmare Hoseok is just another dragon soldier who hates humans because of what they’ve done to him. Hoseok and Jungkook first meet each other on opposite sides of the war. Not as brothers but as enemies. Does Hoseok fall by Jungkook’s blade? Or will Jungkook burn without ever knowing about the magic that lurked in his veins? Or worse- would he have found out and used his powers to aid the only people he’d ever known.

- Would he and Seokjin fought in that reality? Two forces so destructive that they could only take out each other- flattening the mountains and ending thousands of lives when they clash. You hear them- from where you watch them fight. the dream war is just as bloody and terrible as the real one- and it's worse to see your family fight.

- Seokjin’s face is tense, eyes slowly dripping blood as he holds the magic in his hands. and jungkook- jungkook looks almost evil. Jungkook’s words don’t sound like your son- his voice deeper- like the dream just can’t get it right “this issue here uncle- is that you have something to fight for and I do not.”

- You beg the dream world to let you wake up but Seokjin’s spell holds you there with ironclad hands.

- You wonder what’s become of taehyung in this reality. Would he have woken from his coffin without Seokjin’s magic to keep him there- or would he have stayed asleep? Never to be woken again? would he sleep the same way Seokjin does, chest broken open on the battlefield, his heart removed clutched in Jungkook’s hand?

- In the dream where Jungkook doesn't know he’s magical, you’re a medic for the human army walking along with the isles of the wounded. Treading over piles of feathers and blood to check the faintly moving chest of a young man, so beautiful despite the fact he’s nearly dead. You don’t recognize Jungkook when you look at him- barely 19 and dying without the magic to protect him and keep him alive

- Maybe it’s some consolation that this other version of you gets to hold Jungkook as he dies. Gets to soothe him and say, “it’s alright, it won’t hurt in a second, you just have to stop breathing and you’ll be at peace.” As he sputters and tries to breathe through his torn lungs. You know what those claw marks mean on his chest- that they’re too deep to ever heal. Jungkook only has minutes left with his shredded lungs.

- You’re so focused on comforting the fallen soldier that you don’t notice the beast that lurks in the shadows. Yoongi might be large but he’s also near-silent and invisible in the darkness. Yoongi only feels hate and not love as he watches you, fire growing in his belly. You might be a medic but you’re still a human and every man you save is just another that will one day fall. The kiss of fire on the back of your neck burns hot and painful one moment, and then the touch of his lips soft the next as you breathe through the nightmare.

- Those are the worst sort of dream because part of you is convinced that’s what could have happened if Yoongi had never killed Jungkook’s blood family. As gruesome as it sounds, you think you’d rather have it this way than be doomed to that fate. At least now- you’re all loved, though you’ll have to see if one day, the one you love becomes the reason the other dies. For both you and Hoseok.

- Maybe soulmates hurt each other just as often as much as love each other.

- When you wake- you tell Yoongi about the dream and kiss his forehead where his head is pillowed against your thigh. Head tilted so his horns don’t knock into your hip. “Do they feel real? The dreams in which I kill you?” he asks you. He doesn’t want you to ever think of that, the improbability of him deciding to hurt you. that you could ever believe that his hands that love you could ever hurt you makes his stomach drop. Yoongi would let himself die, would turn his hands on himself- before he let himself hurt you.

- “Sometimes” you admit, as you kiss him more, deeper now that you can verify it's real. Kisses in the dream world always feel 2d, not like now- when you can taste him and feel his warmth. Kissing him is like hello and a new daydream all at once. Sweet and sweeter because you know it's real. Syrup and honey in equal measure. “But don’t worry, I never believe those dreams for long,”

- But Yoongi does worry, And the day comes that you do forget.

- It’s one of the rare times that Hoseok and Jungkook haven’t come home in time to see you wake. They’re kept south by a snowstorm wiping through the northern lands. But Yoongi’s glad they weren’t they're- glad they didn’t see it.

- It’s the first time that you wake and don’t remember them, your memories and your mind lost to the dream world. Screaming for Taehyung of all people as you fight Yoongi’s hands (only trying to hold you up seeing as you look about ready to pass out). You backpedal on shaky legs and hit the glass edge of your coffin with a violent thud. It shatters against the floor in a great cacophony of glass shards.

- Yoongi barely scoops you up in time so that you don’t fall against them and hurt yourself. Your hands weekly pushing at him to stay away, a monster that you never learned to love, a face you don’t know.

- Taehyung is crying in his coffin as he says your name. Hand weakly reaching out to Tae, Your panic stinks in Yoongi’s nose. Your body is afraid of him- that’s what breaks his heart the most- that he can smell the fear on you and he knows he’s caused it. it's all he can do to repeat in his mind that you’re just Sleepwalking, that’s what it is. You don’t actually hate him- you couldn’t.

- But you won’t wake up- no matter how much Yoongi calls your name. How is it so much harder for you than it is for Taehyung? Seokjin’s never said he did anything like this, Taehyung has never lost himself in the dream world like this.

- The second Tae feels like he has control of his legs he pushes Yoongi off of you. Cupping your cheeks and pulling you up and onto his glass coffin. “It’s not a dream- you’re not dreaming” but your eyes dart around the room like you’re not really seeing it. Yoongi sits there surrounded by glass watching as you don’t fight Tae.

- “Y/n you’re awake- this is your real life- this isn’t another nightmare” But his words fall on your unhearing ears. You stare at Taehyung like they’re something growing out of his head- and who knows- maybe there is. A piece of the dream world that you’ve carried into your waking hours. A hallucination. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what you might have seen when you looked at his face.

- “Why are you calling me that? That’s not my name.” that’s the final straw, Seokjin knocked out of his reverie and Yoongi pining himself to the wall while Seokjin puts you back to sleep, a thumb pressed to your forehead until you slump in Tae’s arms. Tae holds you so delicately. And it takes seeing him cry for Yoongi to recognize the wetness on his own cheeks as tears too.

- He almost wants to reach out and keep you here. Because he knows- Yoongi knows- once you go into that coffin again they’re no getting you out. One more year to tick by without you. Two at once- They’ve never done this before and they can only hope it works- that you come back whole the next time.

- By the time Jungkook and Hoseok get home at noon, Hoseok’s wings are coated with a faint layer of frost. Yoongi is still sitting out on the edge of the property, watching the faintly raging snowstorm outside the barrier. Eyes wet and dark. His arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to comfort himself. To alleviate the ache of being untouched. Maybe it’s dramatic- but Yoongi aches like he’s been shot down by an arrow. He never knew he could get so touch starved.

- His children watch him, mixed terror and discomfort at finding their father without their mother on the one day they should be seen together. “She’s not awake- you can get inside and see her though.” yoongi feels like he’ll never be warm again.

- The eternal spring of Seokjin’s home is more than enough to have the cold dissipate, but the cold at seeing you in Tae’s coffin stays. Yours shattered to the side (Seokjin will repair it for Tae later), is something that chills Jungkook to the bone. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s using the magic in a panic until Hoseok touches his cheek and calls his name.

-All Jungkook knows is that your coffin magically replaced behind Tae’s and that the roses on the trellis outside are sneaking in through the open window. The warmth of Hoseok’s palm is welcomed comfort that Jungkook leans into. Trying not to cry.

- Jungkook and Hoseok get the story from Tae and Seokjin and then go back outside to sit next to their father. “Am I doing the right thing? Or should we just let her wake up and-“ Jungkook is the first to shake his head. “Mom doesn’t want to die dad- she’d say the same if she could” Hoseok’s hands tighten on their pants. Their whole body shaking at the thought of letting you- just letting you die.

- “Next year- it will be different.” No one says that they don’t know that for sure. That they’re just trying whatever they think will work without knowing if you’re right. If you even can come back. Jungkook and Hoseok stay for longer this time, to comfort their father. But then-one day weeks later, he stands up.

- They’re out of books. At least for now- until Hoseok and Jungkook can rocket across the world, every swipe of Hoseok’s wings faster- harder, pushing themselves to carry more. They feel like time is ticking down.

- The next year you wake without a fuss. And no one mentions the last year to you; you don’t remember what happened at all. You have no idea that it’s been two since they last saw you. And this time- Yoongi treasures it even more. For 18 hours- he doesn’t stop touching you. A hand on your lower back or your cheek. 18 hours of love after two years of nothing.

- Hoseok watches you carefully, looking for a hint that you know what happened, that you remember it in any way. But the day remains lost to the tangle of your memories and dreams. More than once- Hoseok catches you watching them, eyes furrowed like you’re having some sort of inner debate or trying to decide if what you’re seeing is real.

- Your brief wakefulness might be their favorite part- but it’s also the scariest.

- It gets a little better, the dreams can’t create new things for you- only things you’ve experienced before really. So when you see them in newer clothes, when they actively change things about your surroundings before you wake up it makes a difference.

- Seokjin changes the spell around his castle to fall just for you, and you spend ages in the garden, pressing sweet tomatoes to Yoongi’s mouth and cooking pumpkin seeds with Hoseok and Jungkook. Hoseok excitingly shows you their new trick- a little jet of fire that they can manage on their hands in their human form. It’s far from Yoongi’s near magic control of fire but it still makes you smile and shout and give Hoseok little scratches on the head a proud feeling in your chest.

- No matter that you need to reach up to do it now- they’ve been taller than you for so long it’s hard to remember they were ever so tiny. Hoseok’s change is also another thing that makes it easier. You dislike it- and you’d never treat your child any differently than how they wanted to treat them- but when you dream Hoseok- they’re still listless in their skin, a boy along with Jungkook.

- It’s reassuring when you wake and find them still the same as ever but so much more comfortable in their skin than they’d ever been before. As a child, Hoseok had been quiet and easily anxious (only soothed by Jungkook) now they’re louder and happier, a little bit of something shimmery gold on their eyelids, dancing around the kitchen and sending off little puffs of yellow fire (only to be contained by Jungkook’s magic).

- “Really Hobi- the kitchen is made of wood- you’ve got to be careful’). Their face stretching in a familiar heart-shaped smile that you all love. Hoseok is so so happy.

- You’ve never seen them this happy, and that makes the discontent rise in your chest because- how had you never realized they weren’t? How did you never see that Comfort was a fickle thing in Hoseok’s chest in a way it wasn’t for anyone but Jimin.

- You try to remember back to their meeting sometimes. Hoseok had looked at Jimin like he hung the stars and asked more questions than anyone else. You’d assumed it was just childlike curiosity- but maybe that had a deeper meaning than you’d initially thought.

- Before you sleep you unpack some of your old clothes and hand them down to Hoseok. Fine clothes and silks that Yoongi had made for you when you lived closer to the dragon city. Seeing as you have no use for them anymore, they’re a similar size- and Hoseok is only a little bit larger than you, maybe a tad bit broader but you liked your clothes flowy and loose anyway.

- You anchor yourself with their smile when you go into the dreams again. Excited to wake and help Hoseok explore their feminine side more.

- The nightmares are ever vibrant and feverish, with reality at a resolution just out of clarity. You dream of each of your family hurt beyond repair and you dream that they’re happy without you. Those hunters grabbing a tiny Hoseok by his feathers and tear them- his beautiful- delicate wings, and pluck him like a chicken.

- They do the same to Yoongi- albeit slower, removing every inch of his wing membrane until his bones clatter together like a wind chime. You have to watch, unable to move regardless of his roars that shake the earth. Maybe it says a lot about your love if the thing you’re scared of most is not being there to comfort Yoongi.

- Other nightmares of black fire that climbs the walls and sinks close to Jungkook in his baby basket. A calamity that you cannot end, like the trudge of time- the nightmares feel like they last forever. The wand in his arm burning too- unable to bond with him. His soul burned from the inside out. You scramble over his ashes, grasping at them like it will bring him back.

- You can’t help it, sobbing like your heart was ripped out. Hoseok falling too, crying in anguish as part of his soul dies. his wings fall limp- unable to fly without Jungkook. The saddest death is that of someone who can no longer do what they love, and the second saddest is a dragon without its wings.

- It’s so sad, It’s just like that time you woke up and saw only strangers in your bedroom, the nightmares always feel so real.

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators!

Part 8: The Woman and The War *coming soon*

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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I went on an illegal run (IE I told myself I wouldn’t run tonight, showered and got in my PJs then got the Zoomies, changed into running clothes and went out) and had a fun time with a timey whimey AU which would be a fun fic if I had the time and inclination.

Ok so it opens with No Watch Ben (who for the purposes of this Au knows nothing of the alt Bens, omnitrix, aliens etc) doing his thing. He’s started having weird visions, random bits of info he shouldn’t know pop into his head, unexplained pains. Little by little reality around them starts to warp and decay. That’s when Paradox arrives with Prime Rook and Gwen in tow. They immediately cry out and grab onto NW!Ben in tears of grief and joy.

Ben Prime (who will be Prime from here on out) is in the midst of a death loop that, the longer it continues, it tearing apart the fabric of time and reality. He’d been battling Maltruant (maybe Maltruant/Malware hybrid, idk up for debate) and was pinned with his Omnitrix being mined for its data and power. Ben, unable to escape and knowing Maltruant with the Omnitrix’s power would be unstoppable grabs a piece of broken debris and slits his own throat. Azmuth had told him years ago that, as a failsafe, if the wielder dies the Omnitrix will also shut down and be rendered unusable by anyone trying to take control of it. Ben may be impervious to most forms of attack but the Omnitrix can’t prevent suicide. But neither Ben nor Azmuth knew that the Omnitrix had grown beyond it’s programming and would do anything to save it’s host. Before the last of Ben’s light goes out, the Omnitrix uses Maltruant’s time power (since it’s hooked up to the Omnitrix) to force a loop in which Ben dies and is revived over and over again. But the loop shows no sign of stopping and is destroying time.

Every other Ben in the multiverse who is connected to their own Omnitrix felt the backlash of Prime’s Omnitrix trapping them in the loop as well. Only the Ben without a watch, while still feeling some of the effects but is overall okay, can help. Also, outsiders can’t interfere in the loop, only another Ben can enter and break it up. But this Ben has no training, no experience. Paradox reveals he brought a third passenger from the Prime universe, Prime Azmuth who was dropped off with NW! Azmuth. It turns out this version HAD created an Omnitrix, just avoided the final touches bc he was afraid of what he’d made and worried about finding the correct host. Theoretically NW! Ben should be fine with the watch since its out of sync with the loop.

We switch back and forth between Prime Azmuth convincing NW! Azmuth not only to complete his Omnitrix but to pass it onto a young human. Prime Azmuth tells not only of Ben’s heroism and accomplishments but lets some of his genuine grief and personal connection to the boy leech through at the thought of him forced to die on repeat. They debate as they work to finish the device. Meanwhile Rook and Gwen are trying to bring NW!Ben up to speed on him being a universal hero and aliens and whatever. It’s a lot to handle and NW! thinks he can’t do it. He privately tells himself that Prime has got to be someone amazing, someone not like Ben. He wonders if he can stop the loop by switching places with Prime who’s clearly way more important.

They get to the two Azmuths and the Omnitrix is complete but NW!Azmuth refuses to hand it over. He’s seen too many people abuse power to willingly hand it over to a child he’s never met. He’s ready to let the multiverse burn but Prime Azmuth convinced him to at least let NW!Ben try to break the loop. Rook and Gwen are trying to stress that NW!Ben needs to break the loop before Prime slits his throat. NW!Ben nods, perfectly ready to die to save his ‘better’ counterpart. They are able to link Ben up to the loop using the completed Omnitrix and soon he’s in the midst of battle in the loop. NW!Ben tries and fails a couple of times to break the loop and it just keeps happening as time around them falls apart.

At the point where Maltraunt goes to pin down Prime, the beginning of the end, NW!Ben steps in the way. This puts him directly in the path of danger and would kill him. But he doesn’t realize that the Omnitrix loves Ben Tennyson, was tearing time and space apart to save him. And it loves all versions of Ben, including the version where the watch never existed. To save NW!Ben, the Omnitrix flares out power which throws back Maltruant. This breaks the loops bc it’s no longer the same pattern over and over. Together, Prime and NW!Ben stop Maltruant and yey, the day is saved. Paradox shows up all smug, he knew NW!Ben would try and pull a sacrifice play and the Omnitrix, which has already demonstrated what its willing to do for Ben, would break apart the loop to help. Prime and NW! talk like they did in the canon episode (blah blah its just a gadget, only you can make yourself a hero) and NW!Ben feels spurned on to be his own hero.

NW!Azmuth had seen the battle play out and despite his anger and fear and bitterness, he finds himself intrigued. A young boy was willing to sacrifice it all to preserve universes’ he’s never heard of. A boy without training, or powers or anything special had a heart made fullmetal of gold. He watched Prime Azmuth fuss and frantically lecture Prime about the whole suicide thing. He thinks it might be nice to have a young one of his own to worry over. He’s not there yet but maybe with some meetings and some official Plumbers training for NW!Ben, maybe there will be another Omnitrix Ben in the future. Or not, perhaps the multiverse could see what a Ben Tennyson is capable of without the device. It’s not like he needs it to be a hero.

#ben 10 #basically a more intense rewrite of And Then There Were None/And Then There Were Ben #tw suidice #idk thought I'd share #I'm very interested in a situation where Ben feels cornered and *cant* let the bad guy get ahold of the omnitrix #so he kills himself quickly knowing it'll shut down the watch #but the watch pushes past its programming like 'oh hell no you aint dying on me you stupid idiot who i love more than anything'#and creates a loop until ben can be rescued #just the degree of devotion ben and the omnitrix have to each other #(ben's willing sacrifice to keep it out of enemy hands & the omnitrix breaking time to keep ben from dying)#it interests me #plus prime azmuth trying to convince a very isolated bitter NW! Azmuth that not only can the omnitrix be good #but yes plz choose this idiot earth boy to use it he's ok most of the time #and NW!Azmuth being just quietly fascinated at the clear love and worry his alt self has for this child #and wondering what it would be like to feel that kind of love for someone #up to you if NW! ever gets the omnitrix but he and NW! Azmuth def become super tight and work together on spreading peace

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itsstrange · 3 years

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Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

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ENJOY!!

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The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

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hysteriium · 3 years

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𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

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demonslayedher · 3 years

Text

Dream Analysis of Mugen Ressha

Spoilers for the movie, while it does not depart from the plot of the manga, they made adaptational choices which I may refer to within.

While Enmu has control over what kind of dream his victims see, ultimately, he would have no way of knowing all of the details of his victims' lives, so we can assume that he is prompting his victims to fill in a lot of the details themselves. These are the worlds they surround themselves with consciously, but their untouchable unconscious spaces say just as much.

I've said some of this before, but these dream sequences give us so much to say about Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kyojuro, and Tanjiro.

Into the dream: Did that "Rengoku-aniki" thing really happen???? It's animated like a fever dream (or drawn like a typical Gotouge-being-Gotouge panel), but both the movie and the manga leave this inconclusive. It can be interpreted two ways: 1. The two other demons were there all along as decoys, set to appear only when Enmu's blood technique slowly started to take effect so that they'd let their guard down. In this way, we'd know that the boys had a true way of witnessing Kyojuro's prowess and a true bonding moment, thereby making his death hit all the harder later. This would also mean that one of the cars was totally unusable for passengers, and many of the passengers were already thoroughly spooked before falling into sleep. It would also imply that they were all super excited, thoroughly relieved, returned to their seats, and then just passed out.

2. The moment the tickets were clipped, Enmu's very, very, very realistic dreams took immediate effect, but he still needed time before it took effect enough that their guards would go down. If this is the case, then it implies the following: 1. Enmu's illusions can be shared 2. Everyone syncs extremely well together to have all been sucked in by the same illusion (it's possible it was only Tanjiro's, but since we get in everyone's heads a little in this part, I believe they all experienced the same thing). Reacting in ways so true to how they would in waking like, they learned as much about each other as truthfully as they would have if they were fighting while awake. 3. The "Rengoku-aniki" thing is the moment they're falling into a deeper stage of sleep, when any bizarre thing will make sense. They've lost any sense of holding back and are embracing the emotions as they hit them. Even if that was all a dream, the bond formed was very real. But then, as they fall deep, they fall into their own headspaces. Inosuke: I love how bombastic this dream is. It moves at a very fast pace, and everything revolves around Inosuke. He is physically much larger than Ponjiro, Chuuitsu, and Pyonko, who clearly follow him as their leader, the most powerful person in this cave exploring world full of wonder and excitement. True to life, these underlings can at times be frustrating or stupid, but there is no one else Inosuke would rather have at his side to take on a hugely impressive foe. It's a relatively simplistic world, what Inosuke really cares about is his place in it, and who is there.

Taking it a step deeper, he should not be able to manifest in his self-conscious space, but Gotouge attributes his and Zenitsu's ability to do this and protect their cores from intruders to their strong senses of self. What's telling is that his subconscious space is practically identical to his conscious dream space; like there is no breakage between one stage of reality and the next. In its Zen-like simplicity Inosuke's mind is never at odds with itself, its interpretation of reality is fluid and seamless. However, being at this deeper state brings us to a deeper state of self actualization, with Inosuke manifesting closer to the ideal beast he views himself as.

Now, with Inosuke being so fully invested in what he sees as reality, he's still got a carry-over effect from dream after waking up, which one could interpret as not having fully shaken the effects of Enmu's blood technique. After all, Zenitsu simply never broke out of it, Tanjiro had to kill himself in his dreams each time to fully snap out of it, and Kyojuro was the only one powerful enough to have broken through its effects through his own willpower. When Tanjiro says the train is a demon, he buzzes with "I was right!" (a conviction that only got stronger in his dream), and Inosuke's declarations of being the boss and Tanjiro being his underling are indignantly plentiful and he fully believes what he is saying every time he brings it up, even if he's aware that he's no longer in the cave exploring dream. But, given that Inosuke is so at peace with his own version of reality, it's also just as likely that his conviction of being The Boss was also only compounded by the dream, and all that dream did was give him a more fun setting in which to play around in. But, what was so fun about the dream, what made him sleep-giggle with pleasure, was that everyone else was finally getting with the program and recognizing him as the boss, as they should. Finally. It's so frustrating in real life that he has to keep reminding them to get it right. Get it, Santaro?? GOOD. Zenitsu: What I love here is the contrast between subconscious and conscious space. Both of them have the same theme melody, but played in very, very different ways. They also both play with the same core desire in very different ways as well. Is it so much to ask that he can just spend some time alone with the girl he loves?? If we jump straight to the pitch black unconscious space, he specifies to the intruder that only Nezuko is allowed there. Not just girls in general, not a close friend like Tanjiro, only the one girl he loves, and even then, you'd have to love someone a lot to invite them into the deepest, darkest corners of your soul. And it is a very, very, very, very dark corner. Zenitsu's spent most of his life building that dark, pessimistic personality, compounded by the treatment he's always received throughout his life and what he believes about himself at his core. He's ugly and depraved there, and very defensive. Because he holds himself in such darkness, that makes him desire the bright, happy, completely idealistic world of his conscious dream world. It's rich with detail and warm and he knows it well, that places is the first place he ever felt someone have hope for him; it's Jiichan's home, that sunny place with delicious peaches and full of clovers and lush greenery and a charming stream. Of course he'd want to show it all to Nezuko, she deserves to see such a happy, pretty place! And, while the world is idealized and happy, Nezuko is e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y cute and actually wants to hang out with him too. She's willing no hold his hand, none of the girls who dated (read: used) Zenitsu in the past were ever willing to hold his hand. He even gets to show her that he can be cool, and she likes it!! She looks him in the eyes and is totally honest about enjoying his company!!

He just wants someone to want him back. He wants to belong in the sunshine too. So, even if he had it in him to wake up from Enmu's blood technique, who can blame him for staying there? (You know, besides Tanjiro, who has been desperately screaming for them all to wake up and help him protect the passengers. Zzzzz, five more minutes, Tanjiro, zzzzzzz----) Kyojuro: This... isn't really a happy dream. Kyojuro has accepted a lot of sad parts of his reality so wholeheartedly that he doesn't seek the comfort of a dream in which his mother is still alive, or a dream in which his father is proud of him. Instead, what Kyojuro was looking for was the chance to go back and say more to Senjuro. This implies that on the real day he knelt in that room, while his father faced away and read the book* while Kyojuro told him all about how he defeated Lower Moon Two and became a Pillar, and was met with his father's heartbreakingly unenthusiastic reply, he later went outside and...

...didn't say any words of comfort to Senjuro.

This regret, that he didn't do more for his brother whom he knew was hurting in his own silent ways this whole time, was what sat most bothersomely in Kyojuro's otherwise peacefully self-assured psyche (or fired-up psyche, if you go by his subconscious space) . It makes sense that in his dying wishes, the first thing he requests is that Tanjiro do this in his stead. *Speaking of that book, Kyojuro had forgotten about it until his memories pulled together to create the details of the dream, which was why he thought to mention it to Tanjiro later. This shows that Enmu is not an architect of people's dreams, he only sets them in motion. How believable they are depends on each victim. (Totally unrelated, I love the design of the Rengoku estate's garden??? It's primarily evergreen and unflowering trees, meaning it stays relatively steadfast throughout the year, a garden designed in samurai villa taste. Plus the details of the house also fit really well, I think??? Would need to review research of buke-yashiki architecture to say more.) Tanjiro: ...*deep breath* This boy really, really wants to go home. Like, the climax of the movie is amazing and all, but it's the scenes with Tanjiro's family that make me cry. Ugh, where do I start. Enmu probably just grabs on to whatever thread of a desire a person has, and then he just tugs on it and says "this way, let's go really far in this direction, show me where it goes, hmm, okay, nice, lovely. Have fun here, I've now seen enough to write my own angsty version for later." So... so I'm just going to work backwards a moment. Enmu screwed up here, thinking he could really read the depth of Tanjiro's family and his feelings for them. He thought he could make a convincing version of these "characters" cry and shove Tanjiro around and speak meanly to him and make him feel shame. And the cut to that dream, OH MY GOSH, truly horrific sound and color change. But Tanjiro's sees through it so fast that he wakes up immediately and uses that anger at how Enmu wrote them to cut off his "head." You screwed up, Enmu, you blew it, maybe other people would very so blown down by the shock that they wouldn't question how unreal that dream sequence is, but Tanjiro has honed his fighting spirit so much that it's been nagging him even throughout his happy dream. And he really, really, really wants to stay in that happy dream. Like, even though he's on guard at the beginning, so much so that he only focuses on the familiar feeling of a demon being around and does not notice the familiar landscape AT ALL. But the moment Hanako and Shigeru step in, convincingly made from Tanjiro's memories and unedited by Enmu, Tanjiro throws that all away in an instant. As he says when he's trying, after trying and trying and trying to rip himself away from the dream, he was never even supposed to had left this world. He was never supposed to had touched anything like a sword, they were all supposed to stay there together, living their simple life. If things hadn't gone wrong that one night. Tanjiro cares deeply about his mission, he's adopted his training deeply, he has serious desire to improve, which is why his subconsciously keeps trying to call himself back to reality, but it's so hard, because this is where he wants to be, and it's even harder because it feels so real. It's a little peeve of mine when families with lots of little siblings are written to be too angelic and idealistic, and there is some of that with the "let's make sembei, yaaaay" scene, but... but that's actually pretty true. I'm giving myself away with how close this hits to home, but it's a dynamic in a lot of large families, especially large families pretty happy to stay to themselves and people who live the same sort of conservative, traditional lifestyle, to foster in the older siblings some pride in taking care of the little ones and helping create that happy world for them, even if taking care of little kids can be rough. It's not to say that things are always happy and fluffy, they're not, and that's not to say even

happy kids don't resent being in a large family sometimes. But there's plenty of moments in daily life, especially in the presence of small children, that you get swept up into a sillier, happy, caretaker side of yourself, and since you all grow up with these silly moments together, you're going to naturally fall into into some silly, scripted-feeling moments of "then I'll be in charge of eating the sembei!" "no faaaaair!". So, I'll give the sembei scene a pass because that IS a moment that happens in years of moments with the same posse of kiddos around you all the time. But it's also so striking to me how each of Tanjiro's siblings, however idealized, has their own personality. The traits are so subtle but consistent and Tanjiro knows all of them. They pick up on things about each other, they grow realistically annoyed and surprised and concerned and scared like they would if they were real instead of only Tanjiro's memories of them. Those kids feel so real to me, even if they are annoyingly overidealized in some parts as Tanjiro is letting himself get swept away. And just when he's managing to part from it to go face reality, Enmu makes more attack: he brings in Nezuko, trying to make it feel like there's no point in Tanjiro running at all. She's fine. There's nothing left for him to fight for. Everything's fine. And all over again, Tanjiro just stops. He KNOWS it's not real, but he's hurting so much to hear her voice again that he just sto-o-o-o-ps. And his desire to stay with the others catches up to him all over again, and he's tempted all over again to stay, EVEN KNOWING IT'S NOT REAL and there are very, very, very pressing matters to attend to. Even if it was all a little happy and idealized, more than anything, it felt like life always did. It's telling that when Tanjiro finally, FINALLY pulls away from that that time, he doesn't look back, and the family stops chasing him. This is Tanjiro accepting reality, however much it hurts. He's already had a couple years to accept this, but it was all overwhelming to get such a vivid taste of it again.

Tanjiro wants to do well to his organization and honor Urokodaki's training and avenge the fallen and prevent anyone else from being hurt and see an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and make Nezuko human again, but more than anything, he wants that simple life. And it's so, so heartwarming that at the end of the manga, he gets it.

It's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He never wanted a life with a sword, but he's been working so hard at it anyway.

#my heart is broken and it's Kamado Tanjiro's fault #KnY Fandom Theories and Meta #Mugen Ressha Hen #Kamado Tanjiro #Kamado Tanjirou #Agatsuma Zenitsu #Hashibira Inosuke #Rengoku Kyoujurou #Rengoku Kyojuro

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straighttohellbuddy · 3 years

Photo

how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind.

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed.

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

----

The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh.

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album.

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album.

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort.

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others.

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying.

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.”

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat.

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here.

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance.

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling.

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration.

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage.

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious.

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance.

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?”

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.”

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱 👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions.

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen.

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering.

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time.

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song?

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind.

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #sykkuno #jacksepticeye #valkyrae #how the light gets in #shut ur pretty mouth #cyltlanp

303 notes · View notes

thetaleoflevi · 3 years

Text

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Role Reversal

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Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Content Type: SFW, Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, emotional breakdown, explicit language

Description: Levi and Reader’s roles are reversed. Reader is the Captain and humanity’s strongest soldier with the apathetic attitude, and Levi is the ordinary (not so ordinary) soldier with a less cynical view on life.

Word Count: 5.8k+

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It was another late night of you sitting in your dimly lit office, filling out countless reports of the bodies that weren’t recovered after the last expedition. A sigh of sorrow escaped your lips, followed by you rubbing the bridge of your nose. So many good people were gone in the blink of an eye and you had to be the one to fill out the pages that informed their loved ones that the Scout Regiment was unable to bring them back home. Death was a subject that haunted your dreams ever since you joined the Scouts. It’s much worse now that you’ve been given the trust and responsibility that comes with the title of ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.’

You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard a voice coming from your bedroom. “Come to bed, Captain Y/N. You work too hard.” Through the open door, you can see Levi sitting on your bed, head against the headboard and legs crossed. He was smirking, knowing you hated being addressed by your title when it was just you and him.

You let it slide, knowing that if it weren’t for him you’d be a fully developed insomniac. He’s very persistent when it comes to taking care of you. “Come lay with me.” He called once again. “I can’t, Levi. I have to finish this up or else i’ll have to do it tomorrow. We have that meeting with Erwin and all the officers tomorrow, so this would only take up more of my time.” You picked up your pen again and began writing the name of another deceased soldier. “I miss you.” You can hear the longing in his voice. “I know.” You mumbled, not looking up. Your brows furrowed as you wrote ‘Deceased’, under the soldier’s name.

“Then if you’re not coming to me, i’m coming to you.” You hear the rustling of Levi throwing your blanket off of his lap. His footsteps are quiet, but with your dog-like hearing you’re able to know where he is. In a few seconds he’s standing behind you, his chin taking its place on your head.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” He questioned, feeling happier now that he’s next to you. “Missing body reports.” That was all you could say about it—all you wanted to say about it. “Almost my entire squad was demolished.” You whispered to yourself as you moved on to the third deceased member of your squad. It was a young girl. She hadn’t been a Scout for more than two years, yet she came to know and love everyone as if they were the family she was born into. She had just turned seventeen, making her the second youngest member to have been on your squad.

“I’m sorry, love. I know I can’t make this hurt you’re feeling go away.” He stood up straight and tucked strands of hair that fell in your face behind your ear. “Do you want to sit on my lap while you work?” He knew exactly what to do to make you feel better, and you never declined his offer. “Yes, please.” You pushed back and rose from the wooden chair. You moved a little to your right to allow him to sit down.

With the way you were so compliant when it came to him, no one who hadn’t met you before would guess that you were the Captain and humanity’s strongest soldier. You looked like a teddy bear sitting on his lap, meanwhile his features are fierce and he was able to shut people up without intending to. In reality, he’s very approachable and kind.

His chest was to your back, his arms around your torso, his chin on your shoulder. He gave you the strength to continue writing with less of a shake in your hand. “I want you to sleep tonight, Y/N. Not on the couch, not in here—but next to me on your bed.” You could feel the vibrations of his voice on your shoulder. You finished writing the sentence you had started and responded to his request. “I’m not gonna promise you that. You’re welcome to sleep on the bed if you want, though.”

Your heart dropped when you heard him sigh quietly. It felt like he was disappointed in you, when really he just wanted to hold you close for a few hours. It helped him forget the monstrous reality you both lived in.

You felt him adjust for the last time on your shoulder, tilting his head to the side. You didn’t pay attention to him as he did so, focusing on the last deceased member of your squad. The youngest, at the young age of fifteen, was gone. How cruel does the world have to be to end the life of someone who was born into mayhem? Who never saw or experienced peace?

You didn’t notice Levi had fallen asleep until you felt soft breathing on your neck. Wisps of hair had fallen messily on his face and his arms loosened around your torso. It was a beautiful, calming sight. He looked so innocent and at ease. You reached down to where his hands rested on your stomach and squeezed his palm softly. For the duration of the time you spent working, your hand ghosted around his. He stirred awake every once in a while which resulted in you whispering for him to go back to sleep. Each time he would re-tighten his arms around you, nudging you like a puppy until he was comfortable again.

It was three in the morning when you finally got through the pile of work. It wouldn’t have taken so long if you had saved the reminiscing for later when you felt the guilt begin to eat you alive.

As you tapped the stack of papers against the desk to get them together neatly, you felt the urge to apologize to Levi for putting him down earlier. He didn’t have to stay with you. He has his own room to sleep in, yet he decided to grace you with his company.

You realized you have a few hours left until you have to get ready for the day. Why not try to sleep?

Levi was sleeping soundly, soft snores coming from him. You smiled a little at the form of his pouty lips. “Levi, baby.” You whispered, reaching your left hand to push his bangs away from his eyes. His eyes fluttered open, silver-turned-blue irises glowing in the orange light of the candle. He gave you the softest smile you had ever seen and kissed your shoulder before straightening his posture.

“Let’s go to the room.” You murmured to him. “Are you done?” He asked in a raspy sleep-filled voice. “Yes. Let’s go to sleep.” You stood up from his lap. He groaned as he moved his legs, trying to get rid of the numbness. You extended your hand to him and helped him stand.

He held onto your hand as you crossed the doorway between your office and bedroom. You split ways as he went to one side of the bed and you other. While he laid down instantly, you sat with your head against the headboard and one knee up.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to sleep.” He mumbled with his eyes closed. “How would you know? You can’t even see me.” You raised an eyebrow. “I can’t feel you close enough to me, plus…” He patted around until he felt your leg bent at the knee. “…your leg shouldn’t be bent like this.” He grabbed your shin and slowly unbent your leg to match the other one.

“Take my form as an example of how you should be laying.” He opened his eyes, waiting for you to recline. You slowly lowered yourself, propping yourself on your elbows as your back neared the mattress. Levi brought your arm down so that you were flat against the bed, head meeting a pillow. You turned to Levi who was now closer. “I can’t promise you that i’ll be sleeping, but i’ll lay here with you.”

He rubbed his thumb slowly against your cheek. “That’s enough for me, beautiful. I’m just happy you’re here with me.” He slugged closer to you, his face nuzzling into your chest.

It was incredible how this man was able to make you feel things that no one else could. His heart slowed as he drifted to sleep, but yours was pounding. You hoped the sound or the feeling wouldn’t bother him. It was his fault, yet you felt guilty.

The bags under his eyes were visible in the light that peered through your windows. You brushed them as gently as possible, as if you could magically get rid of them. It’s been a rough life. Sleep is a luxury that you don’t think you deserve. If you could give your unused hours of sleep to him, you would.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, running your fingers through his locks of hair. You skimmed the short hairs of his undercut with your knuckles, you could tell he recently cut his hair. He always looked so handsome, sometimes you wondered if you were pretty enough for him. Insecurity was something that often creeped its way into your brain, but you aren’t the type to fish for compliments or make your lack of confidence obvious. If you were to be that way, you wouldn’t make it as a Captain. Having Levi reminds you of how fortunate you are to be alive. He is, and will always be enough for you.

—

Those hours you had went by too quickly. In what felt like a few minutes, it was six in the morning and the sun was beginning to rise. You had to start getting ready for the meeting that started at seven thirty. Your eyes felt heavy, which wasn’t a foreign feeling, but apart from that you felt alright. You slowly released yourself from Levi’s hold so that you could get your clothes for after your shower.

“Come back.” Levi whined, extending his arms in your direction. “We have to get ready for our meeting. I’m gonna shower, i’ll be out soon.” He pouted defeatedly and got out of bed.

You relaxed as the lukewarm water washed down your body. Was it the time to have your mental breakdown? Sadly, no. Not while Levi was outside.

You heard the door open and heard Levi say something indistinctly. “What was that?” You asked. “I said sorry for barging in. I need to fix my hair.” He repeated. You hummed in response. Levi, who was usually a great conversation starter, was dead silent. He was contemplating whether or not he should ask you if you’re okay.

“Hey, Y/N?” He rummaged through your drawers in search of a comb. “Hmm?” “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” You lathered your body with soap and replied with another hum. “Right?” He prompted. “Yes, I do.” You answered. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

The water cascaded down your body, bringing soapy water to the floor. “Not anything in particular.” He frowned, knowing that if you didn’t talk to him when he was around, you’d eventually be left to fight your inner demons alone.

His hair was done but he kept messing it up and combing it again just so that he could keep talking to you. “Please promise me that if you’re ever not okay, we’ll talk about it.” Your face went neutral, unable to pinpoint what made him talk this way suddenly. “I’m not gonna fall apart on you, Levi. Who am I to do so?” You rubbed a few bubbles of soap off of your collarbone under the stream then reached for the shampoo bottle. “You’re my everything. I need to know what’s going on inside that brain of yours.”

You distributed the runny substance to your scalp and mane of hair. The scalp massage you gave yourself was very much needed given the constant weight you felt on you shoulders. A minute later, the foamy texture was rinsed out and you turned the water off. You peeped your head out of the shower, hand reaching for the towel hanging on the steel bar. Levi looked at you from the corner of his eye, enticed by the sight of you being drenched. You got a hold of your towel and shut the shower curtains, missing the light blush that appeared on his face.

You wrapped the towel around your body and stepped out of the shower, not looking in Levi’s direction as you separated your jacket from the dirty clothes. “Do you want me to get out?” The rosy tint was there again. “No, it’s alright. I’ll change in the room.” You took your clothes and shut the door behind you. You dressed into another white button-up and tucked it into your white trousers.

A knock came from the bathroom door. “Can I come in? It’s hot in here.” Levi asked, voice muffled. You internally laughed evilly. “Yeah, I’m done.” The door clicked open and he instantly searched the room for you. You were putting your belt on. “I’m ready to go. Do you need help with your straps?” Please say yes. Please say yes. “Yes, please and thank you. I need to do my hair.” You went to the bathroom and grabbed your hairbrush before returning to your bed.

Levi was waiting on your bed with the leather bands that went around your chest and limbs. “Let’s start with your thighs.” He picked up the brown material. You sat on the bed, lifting a leg to allow him to slip the bands under. He wrapped the pieces of leather around your thighs gently, tightening them the appropriate amount needed and buckling them. This procedure was followed by a kiss applied to each area that was strapped, and a look up at you afterwards. You give him a small smile while you continue to brush your hair.

He finished with the straps that went on your legs, waiting for you to finish brushing your hair to do the ones for your arms and chest.

You put your hair into a ponytail and he immediately began slipping your arms through the leather loops. He buckled the strap that went slightly above your chest, intense eye contact from him while doing so. “What?” You asked curiously. “Oh, nothing.” He placed the awaited kiss and moved down to your abdomen to attach the last two straps to your belt. He placed the last kisses on your stomach, straightening from his slightly hunched position after.

“Thank you, Levi.” If you were more like him, you would make it more clear that you loved him. You would say that you loved him more often. They were his three favorite words coming from you because he knew that you found difficulty saying them, yet you managed to get them out for him. You’ve only said it to him three times before, the rest of the time you show him.

“It’s no bother at all. I wanted to give you some extra love as well because…I know something is off. I’m not gonna push you about it, but please talk to me about it when you can.” You nodded as you put your camel colored jacket on. “Are you ready to go?” You asked, mediocrely fixing your bed. You were going to come back to wash your entire set anyway. “Yeah, let’s go.”

—

It was seven twenty-five when you both got to the meeting room. Familiar faces surrounded you. You sat next to Erwin who sat at the head of the table. You’re his right hand woman, and he trusts you with his life to say the least. Levi sat to your left as your right hand man. He acted as your emotional support, mostly to keep you calm and collected when you thought something wasn’t right and were being misunderstood when you voiced your concerns.

Once the clock struck seven thirty, Erwin began the meeting. “Good morning, everyone. We’re gathered here to brainstorm a plan for our next expedition outside of the walls. Today we’ll be discussing squad reformations and routes that can help lower the amount of casualties and injuries in our battalion. Our next meeting will consist of looking over what we come up with today and confirming the actions we will be taking.” Your hands immediately clenched into fists when your heard ‘next expedition.’ We just went through with one two days ago. The number of casualties and injured soldiers is too high to go outside the walls again so soon.

Levi’s hand found your forearm and squeezed gently. With the amount of times your concerns have been shot down, you were just about done trying to object anything your Commander said in regards to exiting the walls. He was so strong headed and able to defend his methods that you often gave up trying to convince him that there were flaws in his thought processes. You relaxed your hands and sat through the rest of the meeting with your usual stoic expression. Your surface did not reflect the way you felt inside at all.

“Captain Y/N, what do you think of the plan we’ve arranged so far?” The blonde haired man asked, facing you. Should I go for it? Should I tell him what I think just to get shut down again? “It’s a good plan, I just have one concern.” He folded his hands and nodded in an understanding manner. Levi turned to pay attention to the conversation between you and Erwin. The officers were discussing ideas amongst themselves.

“I think it’s too soon to go outside the walls again. I was filling out the reports for the soldiers that died during the last expedition, and we lost a grand number of soldiers.” “Yes, you’re right about that. Our next expedition won’t be for a while though. I noticed the amount of soldiers that came back injured is just as large as those that died, so i’m giving them time to recuperate. The squad reformations we’ve made are just incase our wounded soldiers are not capable of joining us in our next expedition. If they aren’t physically well by the time our next expedition takes place, the squad reformations will be confirmed.”

He agrees? He agrees. “Oh, alright. Then we’re off to a great start with this plan.” He nodded and smiled with satisfaction.

The meeting ended in a little over an hour. Erwin dismissed everyone and made sure to praise you for your input before exiting the room to continue brainstorming alone.

“I’m proud of you, Captain!” Levi beamed a smile and pulled you into an embrace that you refused to reciprocate. The public display of affection had heat creeping to your cheeks even if there was no one in the room but you two. People were walking past the door constantly, and the thought of being seen like this was embarrassing to an extent. “Thank you, Levi. Let’s get out of here.”

—

Lunchtime finally arrived and usually you sat with Hange, Levi, and Erwin, but Hange and Erwin were both busy with their own things so it was just you and Levi. You weren’t hungry, the thought of your fallen comrades slowly beginning to bombard your thoughts again. It brought an unsettling feeling to your stomach.

“You should eat something.” Levi said, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not hungry. I think i’m gonna go to my office to finish some more work.” “Okay, i’ll go with you.” He said feeling overjoyed to spend more time alone with you. “You don’t have to. I’m just gonna be filling out more papers.” You rubbed the back of your neck. Levi’s clinginess was another reason you loved him. You like the idea of him wanting to be around you all the time, but it’s not a problem if he spends a day without you as well. You withstand the time apart better than he does.

“I want to, though. I like spending time with you even if i’m just watching you do work.” You looked at his teacup that was still three fourths of the way full. “At least finish your tea. You can meet me in my office once you’re done.” You rose from the bench looking at him as he set the porcelain cup down. “Fine, i’ll see you in a bit, Captain.” He stood up and gave you one of his perfect salutes. You nodded and left the table.

—

Throughout your years as a Scout, you’ve seen death left and right. You made it your mission to remain as closed off to others as you could to protect yourself from anymore heartache, but Levi managed to break into your heart by force. He just wouldn’t leave you alone, so you let your guard down for him, seeing the way he cared for you like you were his favorite person in the world. He dealt with your mood swings, he stayed after you pushed him away, and he understood your significance to the Scout Regiment and all the weight you bear solely. He understood that you being deemed humanity’s strongest soldier isn’t just a fancy title, it’s a heavy anchor that weighs on your shoulders.

You opened the door to your office, shutting it behind you before you went further into the room.

You went to your desk and sat down in the wooden chair. A sound came from underneath your boots, making you look down to inspect the area. You crouched down to pick up a paper that had fallen out of the stack of reports you had filled out. ‘Name:_____| Age: 15 yrs| Gender: Male…’ read the beginning of the description. The young boy, once so full of joy and life, was narrowed down to a sheet of paper with a pitiful explanation for why he will never be seen again. You sat on the floor underneath your desk reading the rest of the description. ‘Hair color: Black| Eye color: Hazel| Height: 5’6| Weight: 152 lbs…’

You felt the urge to cry, but tears wouldn’t form. The floor was not at all comfortable, but it brought comfort knowing that your lack of emotional stability wouldn’t be witnessed at first glance. You weren’t visible to anyone under your desk, so if you really wanted to break down, now would be your chance.

A knock came from the other side of your door. That was too quick, Levi. You didn’t answer, still deep in thought and overcome by treacherous feelings.

The door opened without your permission and you didn’t even care. “Y/N, are you in here?” Levi’s footsteps got further as he walked past your desk and into your bedroom. “Are you in here?” He opened the bathroom door, not seeing you in there. “Hmm.” He returned to the doorway between the two rooms. He noticed your boot as it leaned against the left leg of your chair. “There you are.” He traced your boot back to you.

“What are you doing down here? Are you okay?” He crouched down to meet with you at eye level. “Yeah, i’m fine. I just…forgot this…um…report.” You were visibly shaken and Levi wasn’t sure what the cause was. He took the paper from your loose grip and read the page quickly from top to bottom. “Talk.” He sat on the floor, something he wasn’t particularly fond of doing, but anything for you.

“I’m not doing this right now. There’s a time and a place for mourning the dead. Now is not that time, and this is definitely not the place.” You crawled out of the area and slowly got to your feet. Levi followed you as you strode to your bedroom. “When is it the time, then? Where is that place? I’ll take you there whenever.” His voice wasn’t as soft as it was when he first found you. You said you weren’t going to push it, Levi. You’re doing the exact opposite.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration filling him to the brim. “I just want you to talk to me! Confide in me! God, Y/N. It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m not just some stranger you’ve held close at night. I’m your lover.” You were on the brink of letting every emotion within you loose, bringing yourself back when you see how distressed Levi looks. You know it’s your fault he’s this way right now, but you made him a silent promise.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, holding your hands together tightly. “I’m not going to break in front of you.” You whispered. Levi kneeled down in front of you and held onto one of your shins. “I’m not leaving until you do.” His stormy gray eyes never left yours. “I don’t care if it takes hours. I’m not leaving until you spill your fucking heart out.”

Wherever you went, he just followed you. Working on paperwork? He watched you from the other side of your desk. How he didn’t get tired of watching you was beyond you. “I’m just trying to help.” You didn’t look up at him, continuing your writing. “I know you are.” You murmured. He reached for your vacant hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Then why aren’t you letting me?” Tears stung the inner corners of your eyes, threatening to break your facade. You blinked back the blurriness of your vision, prohibiting yourself from showing your true emotions.

“Maybe others can’t see through your stoic mask, but I’m close enough to notice the cracks in it.” And there it was…the first tear. You gripped your pen tighter, ink bleeding through the paper, but you continued writing messily. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips trembled, eyelashes being weighed down with teardrops. “I know it’s hard to bare yourself to me like this.” His eyes softened at the large tears that rolled down your cheeks, ending at your chin, before falling on the paper.

Your chest suddenly felt tight causing a hiccup to fall from your lips. You covered your eyes with both of your hands, tears still streaming underneath them. You felt humiliated at your show of weakness. “How are you gonna try to hide all those tears from me, sweetheart?” He pulled one of your hands down, revealing a closed eye, and a knitted eyebrow. You instantly crossed your arms on your desk and put your head down, tears pooling and leaving dark spots on your sleeves.

Levi hurried over to your side and kneeled beside you. “I know, baby. You need to get this out.” He rubbed your back slowly. The erratic shaking that started in your shoulders lured a sad reaction out of Levi. It was as if he felt every ounce of pain you were feeling. He wanted to cry with you, but stayed strong knowing there was no room for two meltdowns.

“He…was…fif…teen.” You spoke muffled with pauses between gasps. Levi kissed your shoulder. “I know. It’s awful. He was a pure soul and solid addition to the squad, but think about it, he’s not suffering in this disgusting world anymore and he’s no longer living in fear.” Your eyes felt even heavier now. You went silent as you tried to calm down. Your breathing was anything but steady.

When you managed to stabilize yourself, you took one last deep breath before picking your head up.

“Y-Yeah.” You cleared your throat and wiped at your puffy under eyes. “You’re right.” You said more steadily, finally able to face your inamorato.

He undid his ascot and gave it to you to dry your eyes with. “Thank you.” You said quietly, dabbing the cloth on your damp features. He nodded with a soft smile. “How do you feel?” His knuckles brushed your cheeks sweetly. The coldness of his skin felt nice in contrast to your warm, tear-stained face. “Fine.” It was the only word you thought could narrow down how you currently felt after your meltdown. You knew the storm was only passing temporarily, but you weren’t going to make a bigger spectacle than you already had.

“Come on, give me something more.” He turned his head and pointed to his cheek. “I feel better, love. Thank you.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek, not expecting Levi to straighten his head at the last second. Lips met lips pleasantly, heat taking it’s place on your cheeks again. On the inside, he was laughing like a child at his spontaneous act, knowing he managed to fluster you. On the outside, he was enjoying the contact you allowed him to have with you.

Every time he kisses, hugs, or even just brushes his hand against yours, it brings back memories of the first time you let him rock you to sleep like you were a child. He knew before he even formally met you that you never slept because you walked around with the darkest bags under your pretty eyes. When you picked Levi to be on your squad, he made it his own personal mission to get you the sleep you deserved.

You pulled away from him, blush continuing to make you look like you were the subordinate in the relationship. “I’m glad you feel better. I’ll always be here to console you, Y/N. I hope you know that. I’m sorry I had to force your feelings out of you this time.” He smoothly brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to force me to talk about things. I’ll work on it.” He chuckled at the way you effortlessly made him happy. He was the only one to see your smile often, even if it was a small and short-lasting one.

“What do you want to do now? I’m pretty sure I recall you telling me that you finished all the work you had to do, earlier in the morning.” You stood up from the chair, pulling him up from his kneeled position as well. “Come on.” You took his hand and led him to your bedroom.

“Remember the first night we slept in the same bed? The first night you got me to sleep after you found out I hadn’t slept in a few days?” His eyes twinkled hoping you were thinking what he was thinking. “Mhm. What about it?” You let go of his hand and proceeded to your bed where you sat on the edge and took off your boots. “Can we do that again?” You threw your right boot in a corner next to the left boot.

He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. This was his favorite thing to do with you, having decided it after only doing it once. It beat every single thing you two did together. He got to watch you close your eyes and get the rest you desperately needed, yet ran from. He got to hold you close and listen to the rhythm of your breathing, and he got to kiss you as much as he wanted.

“Of course, my love. Anything for you.” He went to the opposite side of the bed and took his boots off, tossing them across the room to where your boots were. He got closer to the center of the bed with his back against the headboard and got into a comfortable position before patting his lap for you to lay across. You crawled to where he was, laying your head just above the crease of his arm and the rest of your body lay across his lap. You felt safe and secure in his arms.

“Who knew the Captain was such a softie for an ordinary soldier like me?” Levi cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes with his free hand. “Shut up.” You mumbled with your eyes closed. He chuckled lowly, the vibrations already working on lulling you to sleep. “Are you sure you want to sleep right now? It’s three in the afternoon. You might not be able to sleep at night.” “Mhm.” You hummed. “I don’t sleep at night anyway.” You reassured. “Alright, my dear.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and began swaying your body slowly. You concentrated on the motion and your heart rate started slowing down.

There was an immense adoration gleaming in Levi’s eyes as he watched you slowly drift to sleep. He kissed your forehead and stopped swaying when he felt your body go limp, chest rising and falling with every breath that escaped your lips.

A few moments later, there was a sudden knock on your door. Levi’s eyes widened, hoping whoever was at the door would leave immediately. Another three knocks came from the other side when there was no response, causing you to stir at the sound. Levi looked down at you, eyes completely soft. He hoped you would stay asleep through the unwelcome raps. Then the doorknob turned.

“Captain Y/N, are you in-” “Shut the fuck up.” Levi muttered through gritted teeth. He was never this aggressive with his words, but when it came to you, he could surprise anybody—even Hange and Erwin.

Eren’s eyes were wide at the sight. ‘Captain Y/N likes affection?’ Was all he thought. “Sorry, Levi.” He whispered. “Can you make sure Captain Y/N sees this when she wakes up?” The boy rubbed his neck as he waited for Levi to look up again. “Just leave it on her office table. Don’t touch anything. No, never mind. Just leave it on her dresser over there.” Levi watched Eren like a hawk as he located your dresser and set the paper down. “I’m heading out. See you later, Levi.” The boy exited the room, unsure of whether he should keep this to himself or tell his group of friends.

“Who was that?” You asked, feigning grogginess a few seconds later. Your survival instincts had you awake by the first knock, but you wanted Levi to feel good about the way he was taking care of you. “It was Eren. Go back to sleep, love. Your schedule is clear for today. You can sleep for the rest of today if you want to.” You nodded and nudged yourself into his chest. “Only a little longer. Wake me up in ten minutes, please.” He stroked your cheek lightly. “Okay, dear.” His expression returned to the loving one he had prior to Eren’s interruption.

You returned to your dormant state rather quickly and Levi didn’t plan on waking you up any time soon.

As time went by, Levi found himself having to hold in his chuckles as he saw drool sliding down the corners of your mouth. He was quick to wipe it away with his thumb, knowing how you’d react if you woke up with drool on your face.

He realized before, but now it was emphasized that nothing could ever stop him from loving you. Not your past, not the present, not the future. Nothing. He knew from the moment you told him you loved him back that he would love and care for you endlessly.

I will hold you like this for as long as you want me to, and as many times as you need me to, my love.

#aot #attack on titan #captain levi #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #fanfic #levi fic #levi x y/n #levi #levi aot

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lustbile-archive · 3 years

Note

You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to but I was thinking maybe Ateez’s reaction lr scenario where their s/o dresses as a sexy kitten maid or smthg like that ;P

Seonghwa: hopefully you didn’t spend a lot of money on your cute little outfit, cause it is not going to last long. The second he sees you its go time, and if you’re pairing that with any teasing or taunting its going to be even worse. He’s going to tear into you so fast, its would be like hes moving at light speed

Hongjoong: it kinda rocks him a little because hes very unused to having a surprise. He’s very used to being the one making the decisions, so with you presenting him with something he has zero say in, there would be a moment of adjustment. But once that is over, and hes back to reality, hes grabbing you by the back of the neck and its time to go to work

Yunho: okay wait give him a second to buffer and figure it out. At first he definitely just sees it as something cute and aw look at you all dressed up but then... oh wait a minute this is kinda hot. And then once that hits him, hes on you. He’s all teeth and mouth, absolutely smothering you and bending you over. He’s cooing at you and fucking you as hard as possible it’s definitely like what type of fucking power play is he getting at. Cause hes only pulling the outfit down and to the side to expose all the necessary parts but also talking to you like you’re the cutest sweetest thing hes ever met

Yeonsang: definitely the least affected by it. Like sure you look cute, but why not some normal lingerie if your intention was to surprise him and start something? And he wont hesitate to verbally express this thought. But you’re sexy, and hes turned on okay fine you caught him. But if you wanted a reaction you need to work a little harder. He’ll sit down and you can give him a little show. Wants you to strip and if you wanted to be a maid then the role better come along with the outfit so you better get into character

San: he has to take a second to gush over how pretty you are and how the outfit looks great on you, though he is grabbing you and groping you the entire time hes doing it. He makes you turn for him and show off for him, and then his teeth are tracing every inch of every seam and hem. His nails scratch every inch of skin you left for him to look at, but then when hes done with all that, please pull down the top and climb on top cause he wants the perfect angle to look at the pretty outfit you put on for him while he fucks up into you

Mingi: here comes the biggest cutest boy who’s literally always wanted a new kitten how did you know?!?!?!? It takes a minute before anything fully sexual happens, he’s gonna wrap you up in his arms and crush you into the closest soft surface to cuddle into you. He becomes an entire human blanket and grabs at your sides as he goes on and one about how he loves you being his new pet. But then he finally cant take it anymore and he needs at least something, and that’s where he’ll turn to cock warming. He’ll grind up into you and play with you a little but he really just wants to hold you and love on you.

Wooyoung: mean. He’s mean. He’s tickling you and way too excited because he enjoys this something that’s very out of left field. Similar to seonghwa, the outfit wont last long, partially because he has no interest in figuring out the correct way of getting you out of the outfit because he needs to get to the point immediately. But also he sees the look of your nice little outfit hanging off you in tattered little pieces as degrading and sexy.

Jongho: hes kind of similar to yeosang and hongjoong as in the idea of confused but also not totally interested. But he thinks you look very cute, and he will praise you in that sense, cause he knows you put it on with him in mind and he wants nothing more than to see you happy and all proud of yourself. But also hes very into the suggested submissive nature of it so of course his knee jerk reaction is to get you on your knees and himself in your mouth, but keep your little outfit intact, you put it on for a reason

#ateez smut #seonghwa smut #hongjoong smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #ateez imagines #ask

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bangteamhyuk · 3 years

Text

Moving On

Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Angst, Producer! Min Yoongi

Warning: mentions of sex, angst, contains heavy argument (One Shot)

Word count: 3,850k

Synopsis: You went back with Yoongi to your old apartment before moving on to the next. While cleaning, fixing, and rummaging all of the things inside, you two began to reminisce your life when you were still building your dreams together. Until he saw his old broken piano, then reality hits the two of you.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you tried to catch your breath after rushing on to the stairs. Three floors were pretty tough for someone bringing cleaning tools, while hoping not to disappoint the person who was waiting for you for half an hour on the other end.

Yoongi turned around and crouched down a bit to see if you are fine “It’s okay. I’m sure you have reasons” He took the broomstick from your hand and put it together with the big vacuum cleaner he was holding. He paused for a moment and smiled at the sight of a white but clear oval diamond ring you were wearing. Your engagement rings.

You quickly blushed and turned away, flustered at the sight of Yoongi smiling at you. “Bunch of Min residents. Still cracks me up” you chuckled at the stick figure faces of you and Yoongi looking mean as the welcome door mat.

“Yeah, you thought of that” he pulled out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“But you were the one who drew those faces, Yoongi Matisse” you remarked as you fixed your hair. He scoffed as he put on his hairband.

“Ready to clean our stuff?” he asked. You nodded.

Yoongi went inside first and opened the curtain from the window on the front, giving light inside the studio apartment that were filled with dusts and memories. You followed. You turned around to see cobwebs around the table occupied with pictures, knick-knacks from all the travel you two had been, and even crumpled grocery receipts hidden on the side.

“5 good years huh?” you spoke, brushing your finger on the table to see how much dirt occurred over the years.

“Uhuh, 5 good years, and now we’re ready to move out Y/N” he replied.

“Look if we put the couch on the center, our visitor might think we’re bunch of couch potatoes. First impression last babe” you reasoned, as you sat beside Yoongi on the bare wooden floor of the room.

He shook his head “Y/N, I’m just saying that we needed to be reminded that it’s okay to rest once we get home, that’s why I was thinking that the couch should be there. Besides are we really going to admit and entertain guess here?” he gave you one tough argument that was hard not to consider.

“Ok fine, but what if I’m feeling a little frisky and want to do it while we watch TV? And then a burglar came from the door, right?” you turn to look at him with conviction in your eyes then continued “All I’m trying to say is that, putting it on the center have its disadvantage. Would you want your dick to be seen by a stranger, worse to a voyeur burglar?” you raised your arms and pointed it with your open palms at a non-existent couch against the other side of the empty room.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth in disgust “I can’t believe hearing this poor argument just to convince me in putting…” he paused then sighed “Fine, let’s put the TV and couch on the right side and the dinner table at the center” he conceded.

“Happy girlfriend equals happy life” you smiled at your victory. Yoongi turned to you and smiled dryly. You chuckled.

“We’re going to build our dreams here…” he spoke softly while staring at the open window in the midst of vacant space between the two of you. You stared at him and lingered for a moment.

“Yes, we will” you smiled, as you turned to stare at the open window as well, filling the bareness of the room with all your hopes and dreams together, as you closed your eyes.

“Achoo!” you sneezed as you open your eyes again, while patting the dusted couch and pulling the cushion seats out. Yoongi was mopping the hardwood floor, while you on the other hand was preparing to vacuum the old couch. Suddenly you saw something, you didn’t expect.

“Ugh Yoongi!” you burst into laughter. “What?” Yoongi quickly went towards you on the old couch as you pulled out something hidden underneath the seat.

“Your dried out condom! Ugh, gross!” you exclaimed as he grinned showing you his gummy smile that you love so dearly “I told you to put them to the trash, every time! Ugh! Good thing I found it before we sell these…” your face turned sour as you held on its tip and quickly tossed it on to the trash bin. “You know what, I think we should hand them over to the cleaners first before selling them. It’s been unused for 2 years…”

“You know for 5 years since we planned to put furniture on our place, I just realized we had a really great time with that couch” he stressed the world ‘really’ which made you blushed immediately, and well a bit annoyed at the same time. “Not once did we had any visitor, not even that voyeur burglar you were talking about” he raised one of his eye brow and smirked.

You quickly pulled out the dusted pillow and threw at him. “What? I’m just saying it wouldn’t matter if we put it on the center or not.” he laughed.

“Okay, Nostradamus. Let’s get back to business. I have book signing to attend to later” you turned your back to continue cleaning the couch while you heard him chuckle once more and resumed to mop the floor.

“What’s this surprise?” you tried to reach out for something, while Yoongi was making sure you can’t see anything through the blindfold.

“Take another two steps to the front. Here. Great. Now! The big reveal!” he slowly opened the blindfold as he showed you his D-I-Y wooden desk situated beside the apartment’s lone window.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” You gasped. “You made these? Even the succulents on the desk?” you hurriedly went to your new work desk and examined everything over and underneath it. You opened one of the drawers and saw a 20-dollar cat design fountain pen you’ve been eyeing for weeks in the department store “Yoongi, thank you!” you held it to your chest.

“Well, I did the wood work but not the succulents. I just..” he scratched the back of his neck. “add that for a little touch, you know, something to ease your stress when writing stories”

You quickly ran up to him for a kiss. “Yoongi, thank you! I love it! I love you!” he grinned.

“Can you kiss me again? Maybe deepen it?” you obliged, but parted for a second. “But if my work space is on the window then… where is yours?” you asked.

He shrugs. “I can stay at our bed. I mean, I’m sure you don’t make much sound when your busy so it’s okay. I just needed a laptop and my guitar to make music” you smiled weakly. “It’s really okay babe, it’s a win-win situation. Look at this way, if you put my workspace near the window, I might include unnecessary noise from the outside. This is great!” he hugged you tight, assuring you that all is well.

“We’ll make our dreams happen in this apartment, you and I” he kissed your forehead, reminding you that you are not alone in this city trying to make it big one day. “I’m here for you always Y/N”

“I’ll always be here for you too Yoongi. We will definitely make it happen” you closed your eyes, and rest your head on his chest. You two stayed like that for a while.

“How much do you think this desk would cost?” you tap the pen on your cheek.

“I deserve a $200 for this!” he pointed at the desk. “It took me a day to figure out how to assemble everything, and I had to scratch each side with a small sandpaper for an hour Y/N! An hour! Just so you wouldn’t get hurt over its sharp edges. So yes, I demand a $200 refund for this!” he raised his eyebrow to show you how much he protests at the thought of not being able to find a just compensation for his hard work.

“But Yoongi, it’s been used for over 3 years and unused for over 2, so expect it has some scratches around and the faint smell of old wood, so $100?” you examined the whole piece, while waiting for Yoongi to agree

He closed his eyes and shook his head “175!”

“150? Last price” you faced him.

“Fine. 150” he sighed, finally agreeing to the unjust price. You then wrote the price on the note pad.

Yoongi crouched down and rummaged through the piles of things on the floor, left untouched for 2 years and saw something familiar.

“Yoongi, what if we include the chair and then we can ask for $200 deal—” you stopped midway as you saw Yoongi pulled out his electric piano, all broken.

“Open the box babe!” you watched him open the huge ribbon and tore out the wrapper on the floor. You went to the table and refilled two glasses with cheap wine.

“Oh babe, you don’t have to” he gently pulled the brand new portable electric piano from the box.

“Happy 3rd anniversary!” you handed over his share of wine. As he pulled you down to where he sat, and you fell on his lap. “Oops, careful the wine might---” He didn’t even let you finish when he kissed you hard just to show you how grateful he was for the gift.

“Mmm…” you chuckled as you parted from the kiss and turn to the piano. You brushed your fingertips at the piano keys and smile “The greatest song of all time will be made here, in this piano. I’m claiming it!”

He hugged you tight as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I definitely will. I love you so much!”

“You know, we can still have that fixed and sell it for…”

“No!” he exclaimed sternly. “I’ll keep it” he looked down; a bit embarrassed at his quick reaction.

You looked away, unsure what to say. You thought it was useless to keep something old and broken, but you guess it’s better that way. To let him keep a piece of you, the old you that he once knew.

“Congratulation’s Min Yoongi!” you popped the party pooper from the front door surprising Yoongi.

“Didn’t you see the live steam? The song I produced didn’t won” he closed the door and tossed the key to table.

“Doesn’t matter, the real winner is at home now! Yay!” you blew the party horn from his side, playfully tickling his ears. He brushed it down and pulled himself away, clearly annoyed.

You followed him still “It was great! The KMA failed to recognize it this year, who knows the next song you produ--- ”

“I don’t care about next year, or the next, and the next after that! It’s been 3 years, Y/N. 3 years since we’ve moved here and where has it gotten us? Nowhere!” he snapped.

You opened your mouth but quickly withdrew as you knew that saying anything further might make him more upset. “Baby, I…” you pulled him for a hug and gently stroke his back. “I understand how frustrated you are…” he shook his head and gently stepped away.

“No, you don’t. It’s easy for you to say, having a stable office job while you write as a hobby. But I only know how to produce music, it’s the only job I know! You don’t get to know, because you don’t have to rely for an award to know how good or shitty your stories are!” he snapped in anger.

You bit your lips and tried to process the situation, hoping you’ll say something to make him feel okay “Yoongi, I’m sorry that I don’t get to know that, but you know that I didn’t have much choice, but if I could I wanted to write full-time and you know that… We needed something on our table and---”

“So, it’s my fault now? That doing pizza delivery as part-time is not enough?” he didn’t even let you finished.

“I’m not saying that!” you finally cried, as you wiped your eyes with the back of your hands in frustration.

“Well then, tell me what? Because I find it hard to convince myself that it is not what you meant” he gave a sarcastic chuckle.

“Yoongi, why are we doing this? I’m just trying to help. Didn’t you say we’re going to make our dreams come true in this city, in this place, together!?”

“Well, you’re not helping, and clearly it isn’t happening.” He looked away as he took the opened bottle of wine you left on the table and chugged on it.

You looked to the ceiling and let out a long sigh “You know, I tried. For 3 years…” you nodded to yourself as you stared at the ceiling for a moment then at Yoongi. “I’ve seen you struggled. I’ve seen you succeed. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst. I saw you strive hard than anyone can in making songs, several of it! It was great, and I’m not just saying it because you’re my boyfriend but because I believe in you Yoongi. I believe in you, because I love you. I trust you no matter what, I trust that you’ll make it happen… Make US happen!” you paused.

“…But the way that’s been going lately? The way you pushed me aside, not wanting to talk things over. Having more arguments with you each day. Aren’t you tired? Instead of growing together, we’re just…growing apart!” you continued, shutting your eyes to the cold reality. You took a deep breath and pulled a glass from the kitchen sink and filled it water. You drank a glass full of it, hoping it’ll drown down the pain. He fell silent.

“You know what? Let’s…” you sighed at the thought “Break-up” you took your spare key and your bag hanging from the wall.

“Fine, leave!” he hit something aimlessly and heard a shriek of mismatched melody from the electric piano. You turned your back to see it, the electric piano you bought for him, broken and damaged. Like the way you and Yoongi are…

Silence.

You cleared your throat and began writing notes on your pad.

“When’s the wedding?” he turned to you while you sat a far from him.

“Next year, June 1st” you replied softly, resisting to look his way.

“Park Jimin’s a good guy…” he smiled weakly.

“He is.” You nodded. Then silence.

The only thing that broke the monotony of stillness between you and Yoongi within those four walls, was the sudden sound of a person knocking on the door from the other side. Yoongi slowly stood up, and went to the door to open and see who it was.

“Well, speak of the devil” he bit his lip and smiled at him. He wasn’t bitter or anything, in fact his smile was sincere after seeing what was in front of him, a genuine smile from you upon seeing the person you love, even if it was not him any longer.

He thought how bittersweet it was, to be someone looking through a window from the outside looking in, because he once knew what it feels like to be the source of your happiness. That smile he vividly recalls, even when he closed his eyes. Every outline, every mole, everything about you, he commits to memory even now that you’re gone.

“Are you ready for your book signing love?” Jimin chuckled.

“Did you get me food on the way?” you narrowed your prying eyes towards Jimin

He nodded “Cheeseburger with double patties, no onions but with extra pickles” he tilts his head to have you scoot over to his side.

You grinned, as you took your purse and ran towards Jimin. “See you tomorrow then? For the contract signing with Mrs. Song?” you turned your back to remind Yoongi.

Yoongi nods. “This apartment is already sold, so we just need our signatures to seal all deals”

“Mm, well, thanks. Congratulations by the way for winning KMA and MAMA for 2 consecutive years” you smiled.

“Well, the performer has a big participation to it too” he turned towards Jimin, as he shyly smiled and shook his head. “Hyung, really it’s the best music of all time!”

He raised his shoulder and looked at the dusted piano left on the floor “Not nearly, no…”

“Guess we’ll see each other around?” Jimin smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yeah, see you” Yoongi smiled and watched you two leave.

Jimin helped you with your seatbelt as he pulled out something from the backseat.

“Iced Café Latte with grainy sugar for my beloved fiancé” he handed out

“How come you always knew the perfect time I want my coffee?” he shrugs.

“I’ve gotten some information” he winks at you and started the engine.

“Hyung, there you are. I’ve been looking for you” Jimin sat beside Yoongi under a cherry blossom outside their music studio office.

“It’s break time and it’s spring, when can I have my peace?” he turned away, looking annoyed.

“Well, I’ve been thinking if we can add more lyrics to this verse? And…” Yoongi’s phone suddenly rang to notify a text, as Jimin’s eyes widened when he saw his phone glow, displaying a photo of you that Yoongi took when you two were still together. “You know Y/N?”

“Yeah, why?” Yoongi tilt his head, clearly confused as to why Jimin knew who you are.

“But he’s my girlfriend, hyung!” he stood up, almost as if ready to fight.

“Well, um, this awkward” he squint his eyes, unbothered at Jimin’s reaction “I didn’t know really that you are…” he opened his mouth then withdrew, finding words how to explain the situation “I don’t know how to say this to you but, he’s my ex”

The two of them, chatted for a while, agreeing on things that annoys Jimin and the things you used to annoy Yoongi.

“Do you still love her?” Jimin turned to Yoongi, his face sullen, hoping that he would like to hear Yoongi’s answer from his query.

He breathed hard “You know kid, you’ll never stop loving a person even if they’re gone. Even if you were left by time, leaving you to oblivion, making you a faint memory from that person. You just don’t” he took his coffee from the vending machine that was sitting on his side and drank before he continued.

“But that doesn’t mean you want that person to be there for you forever. Knowing that she’s happy, well even more happy without me by his side, that’s more than enough. Isn’t that what love is supposed to be? Even when it doesn’t feel like romance, it changes into something, something that transcends beyond it. I can’t explain kid, but you’ll understand it someday” he turned to Jimin, hoping he didn’t touch a nerve that would make him angry.

“I really love her, hyung. My manager’s pretty upset about this whole relationship situation but I couldn’t care anymore. If they find out about us or not, I don’t care! I’d rather admit the truth than deny and hurt her, she doesn’t deserve that. I just, I feel like she’s the one even when she’s moody and all” Jimin shyly confessed.

Yoongi nods “Jimin, you should know several things so you could avoid argument with Y/N. First, of all never underestimate her love for coffee. Never.” He straightened his palm to emphasize his statement.

“She loves coffee first thing in the morning, do not talk to her without her having a coffee yet, under any circumstance. Well, unless you don’t want a great day ahead of you, you could, but I do not recommend it all. Speaking of coffee, she would want one after having a stressful day or any stressful situation she was in. But this is important, take note, she likes sweet coffee and bitter ones on the morning.”

Jimin listened to him attentively as Yoongi continued “If she writes story, she’ll want you to read it from start to end. Do it and be honest, she hates mediocre comments so you have to be tedious about reading it. She loves it when you ask, so that’s a tip. If you fail to read everything, you can ask her. Oh, but be careful about your questions, because she’ll know when you didn’t read it all and she’ll be really upset”

Yoongi chuckled upon remembering how you love to eat unlimited BBQs “She also loves meat, like seriously a lot! So treat her to BBQs every often or else she’ll get moody for a month. She’s a heavy drinker too, so ready your liver and try to keep up with her. And lastly, never end the day without telling her how you truly feel, she’ll appreciate it, whatever it is that’s on your mind tell her. I can see the way she looks at you in that picture” he peered through Jimin’s phone on the side which was glowing due to several notifications “because that was how she used to look at me too. I bet she’ll understand you. She now loves you Jimin.”

It was already night time when Yoongi finished cleaning the room and putting everything that you two wanted to sell inside a big box. Yoongi looks at the broken piano and stared at it for a moment “I guess the greatest song of all time were never made” he stood up, picked it up and took it with him, as walked towards the door way.

He looked at the empty room, one last time “This place still smells like us, let’s not forget this scent wherever we are” he spoke softly to himself and turned the lights off.

He closed the door and saw the doormat again.

“Bunch of Min residents” you drew on the doormat. He chuckled “That’s pretty witty, wait let me add a little touch” he took the marker from you and drew your faces which made you two laughed even harder.

“This is a masterpiece! We need everyone to see this!” you quickly went to the door and put it on the entryway.

Yoongi smiled as he watched you from the couch and sighed at the thought of wanting to be with you forever. He just knew from that moment on you were the one.

He rolled the mat from the floor and tossed it to the nearest trash bin.

He knew it was too late for regrets, but at the same time he knew it was for the better. Whatever happened in the past brought you two to where you are all supposed to be now: Happy, contented but apart.

All the memories, your hopes and dreams that you two shared together, are now gone. Cleaned to make room for another one.

He looked at the door and smiled weakly “Ijen, Annyeong (Goodbye now)” and left.

Let’s move Goodbye to this place, that we grew attached to Let’s move Now to a higher place While taking the last box out of the empty room I looked back for a moment Times we cried and laughed Goodbye now

Moving On- BTS

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for getting here. Hope you’ll also like the spin-off series for this: Seesaw (Teaser)

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Text

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 3: The Accident

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: This is when things start to get serious! I hope you enjoy chapter 3! As always, remember to give this some love, please reblog and leave feedback! It would make my week! 🙏💜

The next day the lab feels the same as ever, though it appears even brighter than the other day as Stephanie walks inside, coffee in hand. She beams and smiles at Ben as she approaches him. He stares at her, cutting her off before she can greet him with a cheerful ‘good morning’.

“Good morning to you too, Stephanie” He gladly takes the coffee that she offers him.

“It’s rude to interrupt people, you know?” She playfully wrinkles her nose at him.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any nicer and more of a ray of sunshine” Ben jokes. “Does this have to do with your mysterious childhood friend?”

“Kind of” She purses her lips to suppress her big smile. “It suddenly feels like a missing part of me has returned”

“Oh, no…” He playfully dreads. “You’re not going to get sappy, are you?”

Stephanie rolls her eyes a little and softly slaps him in the arm. He laughs.

For a moment she questions whether to tell him about yesterday. The conversation with Barry, the awkwardness turned to warmth as they reconnected again, and even the near death experience that was the strange culmination to an otherwise lovely soiree. However, while she stares at Ben tangling with the computer, she decides against it.

As close as she is with Ben, it feels slightly out of place to talk about it. Too personal. Ben would surely intently listen to her, smiling politely as he always does. Nonetheless, even if a part of her wants to share that euphoria with the only person she’s close to, the other part prefers to keep it to herself. Silently treasure it.

“Is the computer behaving?” Stephanie asks instead, sliding on her white lab coat.

“For now” Ben absently replies, focused on entering commands on it. “Let’s hope it doesn’t glitch today”

“I’m feeling lucky” She happily replies, earning a curious look from him.

Like every other day, Stephanie automatically puts her hair behind her ear to get it away from her eyes. Then she leans down on the microscope, looking through it and analyzing the samples after Ben has done the small adjustments to the force field they had been exposed to.

The usual dullness overcomes her once again as a force of habit, but one thing’s different. After so many hours of hard work and perseverance, there’s finally something. Understanding what the change can mean, Stephanie gasps.

“Ben!” She shrieks with such urgency that he jolts up in startle.

“What is it?” He rushes to her side, planting a comforting hand on her back.

“T-The samples!” She announces, wildly gesticulating. “It’s starting to work!”

On an instinct, Ben goes to look at the samples through the microscope just like Stephanie was doing a moment ago. With a light chuckle, he backs away.

“You’re the biology expert, I... don’t know what’s happening”

“The molecules are being altered, but the reaction is positive” Stephanie’s heart races with intensity at the thought of what it could imply. “And if we arrange the force field in just the right way and the molecules have a flawless positive reaction…”

She feels out of breath with excitement. Finally, her long awaited goal would come to fruition. Finally, they will have a force for good on their hands, a technology that could help and protect countless of people.

“We need to keep working” His ever undisturbed polite facade breaks slightly as he fidgets in the spot, patting her and glancing around as though he doesn’t know what to do. “But we’re making progress?”

“We’re making progress!” To celebrate the success that has taken them months to achieve, they hold on to each other’s hands. Their restless energy surges through them, only spreading further to each other.

“There you are!” An outside voice cuts through the moment as someone walks inside the lab. “It took me forever to find-”

When the two turn, they find themselves with the unexpected presence of a tall thin boy with dark hair. He’s very familiar to her, but a complete stranger for Ben.

“Barry...” Stephanie mutters, suddenly very aware of the rare touch of Ben’s hands.

“You must be the friend” The latter says, breaking away from her.

“The friend?” Barry’s previous gawk changes into a grin. “Have you been talking about me, Steph?”

“Oh, um… sorry...” Stephanie chuckles to hide her embarrassment. “Ben, that’s Barry… you know, my friend. Barry this is Ben, he’s kind of… my boss. Well, not exactly…”

“I’m just in charge of the project” Ben corrects her, witnessing her struggling. “But we work together as equals”

“Yeah…” The young woman suddenly feels overwhelmed as her present and her past collide in the form of the two men.

“Nice to meet you, Barry” Ben holds his hand out for him to shake.

“You too, Ben” The boy smiles, tapping his hand before letting go of the handshake.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but…” Stephanie tugs on Barry’s sleeve. Ben stares at the two, and his gaze flusters her. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just came by to say hi” Barry simply says, shrugging a little. “I just… I just missed you, okay?”

Stephanie must have given him a look of utter endearment, because he bashfully averts his gaze and begins to walk around the lab.

“Can I… hang around for a bit?” He asks Stephanie, but she looks at Ben.

“I guess” He kindly replies, politely smiling. “It’s not top secret or anything”

“Cool!” Barry continues to carelessly wander around the lab. “The tech looks fancy”

“Thank you” Ben takes the compliment upon himself, as he is the one in charge of that.

“What are you working on?” To Barry’s question, Stephanie glances at Ben once again. He only nods his head for confirmation. Only then does she talk about the project.

“A force field” She motions over to the small machine that projects the energy towards the molecules vibrating in the air. “We’re currently making sure that the molecules react correctly in order to-”

“Ensure the force field could be projected on people?” He ventures, and Stephanie quickly nods her head, smiling. “That would be awesome! It could be used in such amazing ways!”

“I’m the techno-scientist in charge of the force field” Ben explains, even though Barry and Stephanie are peering at each other and barely paying attention. “Stephanie is the biology expert we hired to control how the molecules react when they’re exposed to it”

“What?” She chuckles, flustered under Barry’s smitten stare.

“You’re still trying to save the world, huh?” He nudges her a little.

“So she’s always been like this” Ben meddles in, looking from one to the other.

“You have no idea, buddy” Barry glances at him, even if his permanent smile is directed at the girl.

“I…” Ben clears his throat, taking a step back. “I better leave you two for a bit. I’ll get ourselves a snack”

“Thank you” Stephanie tells him as he moves further away. Her gratitude isn’t only in response to his kind offer to grab something to eat, but also for allowing them a moment alone. He understands how important Barry is to her.

After Ben leaves, the two are alone in the room. It fills with silence. Barry continues to wander, pretending to look at the equipment littered around the lab. In reality, a question bubbles in his chest, growing bigger by the second and threatening to become unbearable until he finally lets it out.

“So…” He begins, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on a table. “Steph”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free today?”

“Yeah, after work. Why?”

Barry casually shrugs, pouting his bottom lip in a carefree gesture. He picks up an unused flask and fiddles with it, even if his eyes are fixed on her face.

“I dunno… I thought we could go out again. I mean... if you want” He gulps, looking away before she can even react to his suggestion. Barry hurriedly continues speaking, not letting her say anything yet. “We could go take a walk or go to the cinema or…”

“So soon?” Stephanie’s tone is playful. “You should take me to dinner first, Allen”

“Huh?” Barry gawks at her, completely oblivious to her teasing and panicking in fear of her response.

“I’m joking, silly” She giggles, closing the distance that separates them to rub his arm. “I would love to meet with you again later”

Barry grins, heaving a breath of relief. He nods to himself, putting the flaskback on its place. He pushes himself off the table and opens his mouth to say something. However, something interrupts him. Stephanie might have not noticed the noise, being so used to it, but Barry freezes at the sirens outside the window.

“Okay, so what time do you get out?” He begins, slowly walking back to the door.

“At… three” Stephanie half-questions, watching him in confusion.

“Okay, cool” He carelessly says, staring at the street. “I’ll pick you up then”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I gotta run”

“Barry...”

“See you later!”

Before she can even say goodbye to him, he has already run off. The glass door closes with a soft sound that still echoes in her ears. She sighs. With that, Stephanie resigns herself to go back to work. Her thoughts wander nonetheless.

She has to get used to being around him again, is all. They haven’t seen each other in so long, and things have changed. It’s strange to think that they’re both adults now, with jobs and responsibilities, but it’s the reality. One she must accept.

Just as she finds herself staring at the display of the experiment yet not seeing it, it happens. The force field crackles and vanishes, undoing hours of progress. For a moment, she freezes, not knowing how to react.

“No…” Stephanie whines, sulkily walking over to the computer.

She still doesn’t really understand how such an advanced model works, but she takes a look nonetheless. The screen is glitching like it has been for days, so she waits for several seconds. Nothing happens. Stephanie taps the screen, and it seems to return to normal. It asks to press any letter to restart the projection of the force field.

Breathing in relief, Stephanie does as asked. She makes a mental note to tell Ben about it anyway. The machine comes to life with the press of a button. She waits. A crackling sound begins to her right. She looks with the corner of her eye and turns slowly. The force field, once small and contained, is now growing at an alarming rate with a static sound. If it weren’t impossible, she would think it has developed a mind of its own.

“Oh, no…” She gasps, realizing what is about to happen. Her gut knows it before her brain does. A sinking feeling grows in her stomach. Her mind can only focus on one thought. One emotion. Fear.

Time stops. She makes to move out of the way, but it’s too late. She can almost feel the invisible electricity in the air before it hits her. Stephanie closes her eyes tight and puts her arms before her, trying to protect herself from the inevitable. In vain.

Her entire life seems to flash before her eyes as the whimsical time slowly speeds up again. She sees Barry in her mind. Despite her discontent, despite her nostalgia and despite everything, there isn’t a single thing she regrets. Not anymore. As she resigns herself to her doom, she feels satisfied with her life. If he’s to be her last thought, it will be a beautiful one.

An immense blast of energy then shoots her way, being so powerful that it throws her across the room. She screams. The wind is knocked out of her when her back violently hits the furthest wall, claiming a guttural grunt from within her. She falls on the ground like rag doll, barely capable of remaining conscious. Pain is the only thing her brain can conceive. Her lungs have seemed to stop working. Stephanie struggles to catch her breath again, but her attempts are futile. Before she can breathe again, she has succumbed to a pitch black darkness.

Barry comes to a halt once he returns to S.T.A.R. Labs. He takes a deep breath, recovering from the unplanned rescue mission, and heads to Stephanie’s lab once more. The remnant of the ashes from the fire still linger on his clothes. He can’t linger on the people he saved for long, however. Something else claims his attention.

He walks slowly, overcome with a strange feeling of dread. It forcefully settles in his stomach. Everything is quiet in that floor. Too quiet... He just left her not that long ago. Barry checks his watch, seeing that only twenty minutes have gone by. There are no voices, but even if Ben hadn’t returned… Something feels wrong.

“Steph?” The boy calls as he approaches her lab, still anguished by the silence. A strange atmosphere lives in the air. “Stephanie?”

Just as he arrives, he places the hand on the doorknob. An unexpected noise makes him freeze. A buzzing light. He sees it flash through the glass door. Still no signs of her.

“Stephanie...?” He tries again, tentatively opening the door. The sight he is received with makes his heart skip a beat. Time has never moved so slowly for him.

The entire lab has been destroyed, like a bomb or a hurricane passed through. An explosion definitely seems to have blasted through the entire room. There is broken glass and papers scattered around the floor, crunching under his sneakers. Every piece of technology that he had admired before, including the computer, are broken to pieces.

The buzzing light blinks on and off, projecting its yellowish light in small intervals to illuminate the darkness that otherwise drowns everything. There is another thing, far more alarming than the others. A figure lying on the ground. Completely still.

“STEPH!” Barry speeds through the room, instantly moving to that corner. “Oh god...”

Stephanie lies face down. The wall behind her is dented, and a nasty feeling assures Barry that her body caused that. What happened there?!

Swallowing hard, he reaches out to touch her. She isn’t moving. Is she breathing? Is she hurt? Is she... alive? Please, let her be alive...

“S-Steph?” He sobs, gingerly gathering her form in his arms and leaning her against his chest. A tuft of hair limply glides off her forehead to reveal her eyes. They are closed. He shakes her slightly, but she limply lies against him. “No, no… I just found you… d-don’t leave me again…”

Stephanie still doesn’t move. Shaking from head to toe, Barry leans closer to her. He can’t hear a heartbeat when he presses his ear against her chest. Moving up slightly, he can’t hear her breath from her parted lips either.

He can’t breathe. It feels like a train has run him over. Only that it would hurt less than this.

“No, no, no, no, no…” He gulps, his vision growing blurry when tears inundate his eyes. “Please, Steph...”

He observes her, heartbroken by the pained expression in her face. It is stuck like that. If only he could do something, if he could save her… A crazy idea suddenly reaches him. Lifting one shaking hand, Barry snaps his fingers. The electricity curses through, crackling in his hands and illuminating her pale skin. He hesitates, but the thought that he’s running out of time convinces him to try it. He has to.

“Please work…. Please, please… please work…” Closing his eyes tight and mentally praying to any and all deities he can think of, he puts his hand over her heart. The electricity passes over to her, and Stephanie lightly spasms with it.

He holds. His heart continues to race as he watches her expectantly.

Boom, boom. Boom, boom.

Although she remains still, Barry can hear a faint strangled inhale coming from her.

“Stephanie?” He quickly asks, so much so that he runs over the syllables.

Her eyelashes flutter. Barry holds his breath. She frowns, letting out a pained yet weak groan. Still, he almost starts crying in relief.

“S-Steph...” He calls her again, gingerly cradling her face in his palm.

Stephanie opens her eyes. A blinking light stabs them. A person is very close to her as his face comes into focus. All she can see is a pair of gentle dark eyes she is very familiar with. Her fuzzy brain is having trouble recognizing them. Now they’re also flooded in fear and concern. He’s moving his lips, but she can’t hear the sounds he’s uttering. A loud whistling in her ears makes it impossible to focus.

Stephanie tiredly stares at him. She wants to move, to speak, to do something, but she can’t. Everything hurts. Her brain burns with a fog that quickly eats up her thoughts. She needs to lift her arm and touch him, make sure he’s really there and not just a dream.

Barry...

She can’t.

Her sore body and mind take over her. Stephanie’s eyes roll into her skull. Despite it all, she smiles. Because he’s here with her. She can feel his warmth. As long as he’s there, she groggily thinks, everything will be alright.

Stephanie gives in to exhaustion and forsakes herself to darkness once again. He hears him screaming her name, so loud that it overpowers the loud whistling in her ears.

“Steph!!” Barry’s heart skips a beat. The tears that had frozen in his eyelashes freely travel down his cheeks when he notices she has grown completely still again. “S-Steph?”

He continues to sob, desperately clinging her body against his chest as a harrowing void fills his chest.

An unexpected knock makes little Stephanie freeze. She leaves her homework and waits, fearing who might be at the door. The knock comes again, this time accompanied by a kind voice.

“Tephie!” Barry insists. “Open up!”

Hurrying to her feet, Stephanie runs to the door in astonishment and opens it to let him in. With a mildly mischievous smile, Barry rushes in as soon as he is able to. She follows him with her gaze as he goes to the table and puts the homework away.

“Barry!” She whispers at first, but then she realizes she doesn’t have to. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to cheer you up” He drags something out of his pocket. “I know you argued with your mom and dad again. They aren’t home, right?”

“No, they’re still working” Stephanie goes after him as Barry goes to the TV. He introduces the mysterious object he carried and hid in his hands into the VHS player. “Barry, what…?”

“I found this really cool movie” He looks at her with a grin. “I know you’re gonna love it, we can do a sleepover!”

“Those never end well” She smiles a little in spite of herself. “Remember that time you chased me around the house and knocked down my mom’s favorite vase?”

“I only wanted to tickle you…” He defended himself as he set the movie up.

Stephanie laughs, shaking her head at him. Barry only shows him an innocent grin.

“What movie is this?” She asks as they both sit in the ground as they always do.

“The Breakfast Club”

“Haven’t heard of it”

“Shame on you!”

“What’s it about?”

“Just watch the movie!”

She giggles, trying to hold the laughter in and focus on the movie. Still, she looks at Barry. His presence has cheered her up already, and the arguments with her parents don’t seem as important anymore.

The boy turns to her as well, sweetly smiling in return. It is an expression that has etched in her memory. Even after all this time.

As her senses return, reality and dream mix as the latter slowly dissolves. A boy is sitting close to her. The same one from her dream.

Barry stares at her with those warm dark brown eyes. A happy twinkle shines in them.

There are dark circles under his eyes, seeming gloom and inundated in tears. She can tell even as he averts his gaze, absently staring at the window. But not seeing it.

His smile is wide and bright, glad that the plan works and she finds the movie entertaining.

There is no sight of that smile, only a preoccupied gesture that has his lips tightly pursed. When they’re not, they shake with the meek sobs that wreck his torso.

What’s wrong? Why is Barry crying?

Disoriented, she glances around. A bright white hospital bed surrounds her. The walls are made of tiles and make the whole room cold. She is resting in a soft bed, with a thin sheet covering her body. When she looks to the side she focuses on him.

“B… B…” She tries to call out, but speech has left her. Nonetheless, his sobbing halts.

“Steph?” He gasps, hurriedly wiping his tears and leaning forward in the chair he’s sitting in. “Are you awake?”

“Ba… Barry…” She opens her mouth, trying to reply.

“No, no, no, don’t speak. Save… save your energies!”

Stephanie only groans, overwhelmed with discomfort and pain as the veil of sleep completely fades. It had been safe and comfortable, but consciousness feels like a torture. All the unpleasant sensations that plague her multiply when a sudden pressure engulfs her as Barry throws himself to hug her.

“Oh, Steph...” He dissolves in feeble sobs as he gingerly squeezes her in his arms. “You’re okay… For a moment there, I… I thought I lost you...”

“B-Barry…” The word gets stuck in her raspy throat and dry mouth. The effort causes a violent coughing fit that shakes her entire body.

“I’m so sorry!” Barry immediately pulls away, giving her some room to breathe.

Stephanie continues to cough, wincing as the strain only brings more pain that layers on top of the existing one. Barry dissolves in apologies as he hurries to pick up the water bottle that he kept ready in the table beside him and hands it to her.

The coughing fit lessens enough to let her drink, but she can’t reach out to take the bottle from him. Stephanie’s arms feel heavy as though they’re made out of lead. Every single muscle hurts and she can only manage a pathetic attempt at reaching out. The arm heavily falls down onto the bed again. She huffs in resigned frustration.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got you” Barry opens the bottle for her and brings it up to her lips.

As much as she appreciates the help, Stephanie can’t help but to scowl a little. She feels completely useless, being unable to even hold up a plastic water bottle.

“I’m sorry about that…” Barry tells her. “You’re still weak, I need to… you need to…”

Not really listening to him, Stephanie lightly nods her head. Understanding the gesture, he puts the water away and returns the bottle to its place on the table. She hadn’t realized how dry her throat was until she drank.

“What…?” Stephanie finally manages to croak out, her voice still hoarse and raspy.

“What happened?” He completes for her, earning a nod so mild that he barely sees it. “You had an accident at the lab… I… the… the force field exploded”

Stephanie closes her eyes as the memories come to her. On top of all the unwell, a nasty feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. She vividly remembers it now. The iron claw of fear returns to her, even if as a shadow of its former self. The force field went out of control. That explains why every fiber of her body hurts in a way it never had before. It’s like the aftermath of a thousand workouts put together, only that even worse.

“You’re okay, though” Barry tries to reassure her. “You broke a few bones, but you’ll heal and… you’ll recover in no time, right?”

Unable to participate in Barry’s optimism, she continues frowning. Having the haunting suspicion that she broke some ribs, Stephanie cautiously breathes in. Indeed, a sharp pang reaches her side when she does. Watching her grimace, Barry can only wince in empathy, wishing there was something he could do to help.

“Do you... need anything?” He kindly offers, fighting the urge to fidget. “Water, food? Are you cold?”

Stephanie whines, reaching out her hand. He doesn’t hesitate to take it.

“Me?” He questions, earning a soft nod from her. “I’m here, Steph, not going anywhere”

To further demonstrate, Barry plops back down on the chair, squeezing her hand. She seems to at least be a little more at ease now. He breathes out in relief as well, trying not to make it too obvious.

Just when everything was starting to settle down, the door to the room urgently swings open. They both turn their heads in startle. A blond mop of hair sticks out, and familiar blue eyes sweep the room.

“Stephanie…” Ben utters, barely glancing at Barry before he settles on her.

“Hey, man…” Barry warns him, getting back up. “Take it easy with her, okay?”

“Of course” The other gravely nods. “Thanks for looking after her, I got here as fast as I could”

“Ben…” She croaks, letting go of Barry’s hand and reaching out for him.

“Hello” The aforesaid does his best to smile, even if wrinkles of concern form on his face. “How are you feeling?”

Stephanie only moves around in the bed, feeble. She wishes she could just get up and give him a hug. Give them both a hug. But her body is screaming for her to lie still and rest. Defeated, she only sighs and tiredly leans her head on the pillow.

“Is she okay?” Ben asks, bearing the physical manifestation of utter heartbreak in his voice.

“Yeah, she’s just…” Barry sighs in exhaustion. “A little weak right now”

The two share a preoccupied glance. They murmur as Barry puts him up to date on what the doctors told him. She should be okay. The accident was bad, but the important thing is she survived it. She’s out of danger now. All she needs is rest.

“Don’t… mutter…” Stephanie weakly begs them, only feeling worse about it.

“Sorry” Ben turns to her once more, forcing out another smile and holding up something that he had been clinging in his hands. “I brought you these”

Stephanie manages to genuinely smile for the first time as she watches Ben. The beautiful bouquet of flowers is gingerly put over the table. Roses. They brighten up the room with a touch of color. From there, Stephanie can also smell their pleasant scent.

“I… actually wanted to apologize, Stephanie” Ben admits then. He uses his professional voice, the one Stephanie has heard many times when they talk about work. “It was my fault that such a horrible thing happened”

“What?” Barry pipes up, watching the scene develop. “How could it be your fault?”

“I was in charge of the technology” The other tells him, then turning back to her. “I should have avoided it, I should have kept the computer from glitching like that”

Barry averts his gaze. For the first time, he sees the situation from a very different perspective. Glitch… His gut twists in a nasty manner when realization hits. The technology glitched. It isn’t the first he hears of it, even if they don’t know . Something tells him it wasn’t an accident. One thing is for certain, though, it wasn’t Ben’s doing.

“I-I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, man” Barry pats his shoulder, but Ben shakes his head.

“It was my responsibility” He insists. “I still can’t understand what happened but… I should have known… I should know”

“Stop…” Stephanie pleads, hating that the situation only worsens.

“I should at least have been there with you, to...” Ben’s bright blue eyes become watery with tears. “To protect you when it happened”

“That’s true” Barry agrees, but corrects himself when he realizes how it sounds. “I mean me! I shouldn’t have left you alone, Steph, I feel terrible”

The two of them softly talk over each other, taking the blame as they reassure the other.

“Guys…” She breathes in slowly, successfully catching their attention. And, relieved that it doesn’t develop in another coughing fit or a wave of pain. “If you were there… you would have… just… gotten hurt too…”

That small effort has rid her from any of her remaining energies, but it was hopefully worth it. The silence heavily falls on them. It reigns. The boys look down to their feet, filled with remorse and anguish. Both of them care deeply about Stephanie, they realize as they look up at each other, it’s the one thing they have in common.

“Well, I…” Ben gulps, giving a third attempt at a smile. “I should get back to work, there’s a lot to do right now”

“Don’t... worry” Is all Stephanie manages to tell him to assuage his fear. “I’ll be... okay”

“Hey, Barry?” When the boy peers at him, surprised, Ben continues. “Look after her?”

“I will” They shake hands, like they did less than a day ago. “I promise”

Showing his best effort yet, Ben smiles once again. Then, as he waves goodbye at Stephanie, he quietly leaves the room. After closing the door behind him, Ben exchanges a glance with Barry. The boy nods his head, assuring him he will keep his promise. He doesn’t need to tell him twice.

“He’s so… sweet…” Stephanie languidly says, although her ability to speak is returning little by little.

“Yeah…” Barry bites his lip, watching the spot Ben used to be in. “Ben’s a nice guy”

He feels stupid for being jealous of him at that very moment. Of course, he wishes he could have spent all those years with Stephanie like he has. Years that she spent with Ben instead of with him. Perhaps it’s because Barry was so close to losing her that every single second away from her, past or future, suddenly feels unbearable.

Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath. There is still the present. He can be with Steph now. So he will be there, because she needs him. Because he wants to be there.

“Anyway” Barry grins at her, hoping the gesture is uplifting. “What do you need, Steph?”

Once again, she holds her hand out. He laughs a little as he delicately wraps his fingers around hers. Suddenly, the pang of jealousy in his chest dissipates.

“That’s right” A bright and more genuine grin grows on his lips. “That’s where we left of”

Just when he’s about to sit, however, Stephanie tugs at his hand. He looks up at her, frozen mid—movement. Their eyes meet. An unspoken need glows in hers while his are a reflection of the softness he currently feels. Because of her.

“Closer” She just asks him, and he doesn’t have the heart to complain. A part of him is afraid that he will hurt her in that fragile state, but his need to comfort her overcomes it.

“Okay” Barry sweetly smiles, pausing for a moment as he stands up straight again.

Stephanie makes an effort to scoot while he glances around. His hoodie rests over the back of the chair, so he takes it and gingerly places it over her. Stephanie smiles and gladly shrinks under the warm garment. Barry looks around again, making sure there’s nothing else she might need before he lies down with her and settles there.

“Barry?”

“Stop talking, Steph!” He nervously hisses, but when he hears how hard that sounded even in his worry, he corrects his tone to a more playful one. “Gosh, I’m the one that rambles around here, okay? You have no right taking my place like that”

She smiles, and the beautiful sight warms Barry’s heart. It replaces the lonely coldness that had harbored inside his chest for so many hours. Of uncertainty and fear.

“What if I…?” She still says, even if she obliges and quiets nonetheless.

“Need something?” He completes for her again. “Let me think…”

Barry carefully goes to lie down in the bed with her. He moves slowly, slower than he ever has. As he lightly sinks down into the bed, Stephanie immediately accommodates. She snuggles closer to him, sighing in content when their sides are pressed together.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do” Barry can’t help but to smile as she comfortably leans her head on his shoulder. “You can squeeze my hand”

“Mm-hm” Is all she says as she closes her eyes, finally feeling at ease.

He exudes a soothing warmth that envelops her and makes her feel at home. Although he is fidgety and restless, he tries to stay still. Not move an inch. As small as the gesture is, Stephanie treasures it fondly. While she is wondering in the cozy state he helped her achieve, Barry is being true to his word by rambling on.

“One squeeze if you need comfort, two if you need water or food...”

“Mm-hm…”

“Oh, and three if you need me to get the doctor or something”

“Mm-hm”

“Did I miss anything? What else?”

Barry waits, assuming Stephanie is thinking about it too. After a few seconds of silence, and a very telling sound, he glances down at her. She is softly breathing. Barry feels a fluttering in his stomach while he watches her sleep in his shoulder.

“Sleep well, Tephie…” He whispers to himself, smiling fondly.

The overwhelming worry that had haunted him for so many hours grows smaller. It still shimmers in the surface, but leaves room for something different. Like the wave of affection that reaches him.

Barry takes a breath, gently wrapping his hand around hers. He holds it. If she wakes and needs something, he’ll be ready for when she squeezes it. For now, he will rest with her.

Not moving from that position, Barry closes his eyes. He feels the inviting and well-deserved slumber catch up to him. He falls asleep delicately squeezing her hand and hoping to infuse her with all his energy for a speedy recovery.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!!

#loves worth running to #lwrt #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #ezra miller #justice league #justice league imagine #justice league series #dc #dc series #dc imagine #oc #series #original character

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