#and if it worked for a demon who didn't/couldn't trust anyone anymore
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•°~* Careful Touches *~°•
Prompt: Touching their demonic features (Wings/Tails).
(This is my first one. It ain't the best, idk. Lol)
Being human, it was only natural that you'd be curious about what makes the brothers different from yourself, like their horns and such.
Whenever they were in their demonic forms, you couldn't help but stare at them with fascination. You just had to say something...
"They're beautiful... Can I touch your wings/tail?"
• ° ~ * ~ ° •
Lucifer
"You want to touch my wings? I always knew you were brave."
Lucifer doesn't just let anyone touch his wings. They must be people he trusts and respects. Out of all three realms, there are only 4 beings who have laid a hand on his wings and are still alive: Diavolo, Mammon, Simeon, and now you.
Lucifer's wings are dense with soft, fluffy feathers. It's so thick with feathers that you can't see your fingers anymore as you sink your hand. Be gentle with your strokes, while his feathers are as resilient as him, it can still cause him discomfort if handled roughly.
As you pet his wings, he physically relaxes. Letting out a heavy sigh, his composure becomes less strict. He feels vulnerable, but he thinks that he is okay with that. It was an intimate experience for him as he doesn't particularly like his wings. they hold a painful past to him, but you said they look beautiful... Someone can see the beauty in something he can't. Someone can see the beauty in his past, and that means the world to him.
You'll see him letting his wings unfurl more often when it is just the two of you. A cursed record playing in the background, he is working on paperwork with you on his lap, stroking his wings. It's soothing.
Mammon
"Eh? My wings? B-beautiful? Of course, ya think my wings are beautiful! They belong to the great Mammon after all!"
Mammon went bright red, but that didn't matter to him. His human thinks his wings are beautiful! Damn, right! Of course, you can touch his wings, and don't stop until he says so!
Mammom's wings are smooth but rough like leather. He uses a certain wax to make them sleek and shine. He has to look good. He is a model, after all.
As you stroke his wings, he started to squirm? Laugh? He almost pushed you away in a giggle fit. Turns out, he is very ticklish on his wings. It's more sensitive near the base of his wings, and it's the easiest place to tickle him to tears. He has noted to himself to never to let you touch his wings when you have that mischievous look on your face.
He likes using his wings to get your attention, especially now that he knows you like them. He'll walk around the house with his wings out, and he'll try to make it look like he is naturally stretching them, but we all know he's forcing it. He'll wrap them around you more often, using it to guide you closer to him. If you ask him about it, he'll deny it in his tsudere fashion but continues.
He has also bragged about it to everyone. Everyone. "Hey, guess what! My human said these wings are beautiful! Ya hear? What did they say to ya? Nothin'? that's what I thought."
Leviathan
"H-huh?! B-beautiful? You think my tail is beautiful?! Y-you must be lying. This must be one of your normie tricks!"
Leviathan went straight to denial. No way do you like his tail! His tail is such an eye-sore, he tells himself, why can't it be as dangerous as Satan's or as cute as Belphagor's? There is no way— W-wait, YOU'RE SERIOUS?! Once you assure him that you're serious and you'd love to touch his tail, he goes bright red and quiet. Give him a moment, and he'll slowly lift his tail towards you. He looks away, still hesitant. You have a feeling that if you don't stroke his tail now, you might affirm his thoughts and make him cry.
Levi's tail is smooth, and your hand glides over his scales. The scales themselves give his tail a nice and unique texture. It rattles with nervousness, but once you praise it, he'll melt into putty.
Levi is more comfortable having his tail out now, which also means you will be finding that tail wrapping itself around you more, too. It has a mind of its own that always betrays his tsudere act. He'll swear he'll never fall for your normie tactics while his tail is slithering its way up your thigh and waist.
It gets more clingy to you the more you pet and praise it. He still has days where he hates his tail, but you are always there to adore it.
Satan
"I don't think that would be a smart idea..."
Satan's tail is as dangers as his wits. It has razor-sharp edges that have shown Satan its strength in fights and fits of rage. He hates the thought of hurting you, no matter how much you want to touch it.
Even if somehow you have managed to convince him that he won't hurt you, he is still hesitant. He keeps plasters and bandages on standby as you gently press your finger on his tail. The tales aren't false. A light press, and you can already feel how sharp it is. Press any harder, and you'll cut yourself. It makes a rattle noise when it moves, like two bones hitting each other.
After you pet his tail without hurting yourself, he'll be slightly more relaxed with it. He's still wary, though.
So, no tail hugs like Leviathan or Belphegor. Sorry :(
Asmodeus
"Oh, hon! I know they're beautiful! And of course you can touch them. You don't have to ask, I don't bite. Unless you'd like that~"
Asmodeus' wings are drop-dead gorgeous! Of course, you'd stare at their beauty. You don't ever have to ask to touch his wings as he'll probably ask you to touch them often.
Asmo's wings are soft and smooth, like his porcelain skin. They would have been like Mammon's leathery wings if Asmo didn't dose his own wings with skin-care and wing-care products. A very next texture to touch. His wings flutter with excitement when you pet them. He just can't help it!
Most times, when you pet his wings, it can quickly take a spicy turn. How can he not when you are caressing him so sensually?! But, he does slightly prefer the more domestic feeling of cuddling with his favourite person (other than himself) with them showering him in affection. The only thing he really ever wants...
He spends so long on his wings' care because he really misses his old wings. They were so pure and beautiful. Now they're dull... To make up with that, he has a 2 hour care routine, per wing, that he does every week. If you would like, he can show you his wing-care routine, and you can help him too! He'd love that! He has 4 wings, and caring for each of them is a time exhausting task. He appreciates that you take time out of your day to help him.
Beelzebub
"Yes. You can. Just... Be careful with them..."
Beelzebub's wings are delicate, despite the rest of him. His insect wings can easily tear, but fortunately, his wings regenerate quickly. It's still painful. Because of this, he very nervous at letting people touch them, but he knows you won't purposely hurt him.
Beel's wings are thin. It's kind of hard to pet them. Doesn't mean you can't have a closer look to something so different from anything else you have seen. His wings make a buzzing noise when he flaps them really fast. The same buzz makes most buffets in devildom have flashbacks.
His wings are also too weak to make him fly. Have you seen him? There is no way those thin wings can make that buff bloke fly! If anything, it might let him glide or hover for a short time for sports. He has to buzz them really quick to do that, so when he is attempting to hover, a big gush of wind happens and is able to send you flying.
Beelzebub is happy you like his wings, but he is sad that you can't really pet them like the other brothers. It is what it is.
Belphegor
"Really? Huh... You're werid. You can touch it if you let me use you as a cushion."
Now you have a lazy demon napping on your lap, and he is not moving no matter how much you try. I mean, a free nap spot and free pets!? How can he say no?
The base of his tail is rought fur, and the end is very fluffy, a perfect pillow, but it's really knotty as he is too lazy to care for it. Maybe you can brush it? He'll let you brush it. It saves him from getting scolded at by Lucifer or Asmodeus for not looking after himself because he was lazy. Once you've brushed it, it poofs up and becomes all fuzzy.
Unlike Satan's and Levi's tail, Belphie can't control his tail, so he can't use them as another arm or weapon. The most he can do with his tail is wag it like a cow would do.
Belphie also trips on his tail a lot. When Belphie falls over, he doesn't get up. He just lays there and waits. He waits until one of his brothers or you pick him up. It's the main reason why he carries his tail, not cause it's a fluffy pillow. It being like a fluffy pillow is just a happy little coincidence.
•°~* Have a lovely day! *~°•
#obey me satan#obey me: one master to rule them all#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me leviathan#obey me asmodeus#obey me belphegor#obey me beelzebub#om belphegor#om mammon#om leviathan#om satan#om lucifer#om beelzebub#om asmodeus
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Apologies [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
"James, seriously! We're gonna get married and you can't stop getting in harm's way, you said the Winter Sol- White Wolf thing was in your past. I'm not saying you can't do anything, save the day, go chase after who you want, but please just think about how much danger you're putting yourself in and the repercussions. The government are already monitoring you closely. I don't want them to hurt you, like that flag-smasher chick or Zemo- what if they'd decided you're next?" I rambled anxiously.
"Zemo doesn't like super soldiers Buck, I don't trust him and even though you did everything right, doesn't mean he won't decide to target you, or us. I'm much more concerned about you".
"(Printcessa) принцесса, I love you but I can't do this... I need to keep going, the nightmares only lessen when I do it. I promise I won't get into stuff that doesn't involve me but I need to work through my book, I have my demons and you have yours" he said glaringly, taking a tone of frustration and concern, before letting the signature frown plaster his features.
"I can't do this either Bucky, maybe we should have a break" I sniffled.
--
I was out driving and I couldn't stop thinking about it, Bucky and I had an argument and this time it was bad.
Leaving was the only thing I could think of doing after we had the conversation, I cared about him more than anyone knew, even Bucky.
He had gotten back after everything happened with Zemo and I had no idea what was happening, he did everything by the books, despite charging into the situation most times with impulse taking over.
I loved him but I was so unsure about this, that's why we argued, Sharon was the Power Broker and had sustained injuries and it was so close to being him.
Plus I didn't like Sharon hanging around Bucky, I knew she didn't have any intentions but she killed someone without hesitation and James really didn't like that, either did Sam.
He would be steadfast and run into situations and come back to me and I'd have to deal with the injuries, the repercussions and damage, time after time and it never stopped, it was getting exponentially worse and that's why I cared, I cared because I loved him and he didn't seem to get it... Or more like he did but was being too stubborn to realise.
Even Sam was telling him to be careful to no avail, he wasn't always this brash, when Steve passed, he didn't know what to do anymore, he was lost and therefore I too, was lost- I hated seeing Bucky this way and nothing was helping, I've been happily dealing with it but I couldn't see him hurting or getting hurt without any consideration, anymore.
I drove around for a bit aimlessly, before I decided that it had been long enough and I wasn't trying to torture him, so I headed back home, the place we owned together.
"Y/n?" He said shocked, but had a smile on his face.
"Yeah I know I've fucked up, y/n, let's talk about it inside" he said apologetically.
I followed him through the front door and into the lounge room.
"I just don't know how you can keep doing it Bucky, you know how much I love and care for you, I know it's part of you and who you are but we're an us now and I need you around... Especially if we're going to have a family" I sniffled, trying not to let tears escape my eyes.
"Y/n I know, I know baby" he said sweetly, placing his metal hand on my back and rubbing it affectionately.
"We've always gotta be prepared, I'm trying to minimise threats to us, I'm going to be more careful I promise. Everything will be okay" he sympathised.
"Okay Buck I trust you, I just get scared" I sighed as he pulled me into a big hug.
He placed a kiss on my cheek, before he took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.
"I love you" he smiled gently.
"I love you too, actually i love you more" I chuckled, poking my tongue out.
"Never doll, you know that I would never let anything happen to you, and when we decide to have a family, I'm going to be more responsible because having little mini versions of you and I would be a dream " he chuckled, caressing my face gently and putting his face close to mine so he could stare straight into my eyes.
"Bucky" I smiled happily, letting out an exhale, feeling the pressure of the situation dissipate.
"Mm?" He hummed.
"I love you so much, thank you for making me feel better" I replied as he kissed my hand lovingly.
"I'll always love you and I'll always try to do better for us, never forget that y/n, you're my first priority, not Zemo or anyone else, they'll never get between us, I pinky promise" he said soothingly.
#marvel#avengers#captain america#mcu#bucky barnes#steve rogers#fanfic#fanfiction#bucky#imagine#tftws#the winter soldier#winter soldier#catws#captain america winter soldier#sam wilson#the falcon#x reader#fluff#angst#drabble#one shot#white wolf#hydra
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After watching Good Omens season 2, I wanted to talk about this :
A lot of people did recently said that Season 2 Episode 2 was a great episode, but didn't understand the food scene, or found any reason this is here. Well, as far as I am concerned, this is actually the best scene of this episode, even better than the end, and I wanted to talk more about it.
Here is the summarized main topic of this flashback : GOD IS "TESTING" JOB WHILE CROWLEY IS "TESTING" AZIRAPHALE ON DIFFERENT LEVELS
This episode has a big flashback about Aziraphale and Crowley that can't be ignored at all, thanks to all of the elements that we learn about how the Heaven/Hell/World work in this story and about our ineffable duo. We can list those like this :
Demons always do the bad jobs. Nothing new, but what it is new is the "permit" that Crowley has from God to destroy Job possessions and family. An angel can't react against this kind of permit. Usually, angels just watch demons do their thing and rather think about the happy ending than the process, according to Gabriel's justification :
If angels let demons do and just stare, Aziraphale couldn't let Crowley do that, even after knowing about the bet. At first, he was not aware about the permit nor the bet, and although he's informed after asking, he just comes back to Earth to avoid the killing of the children by trying to convince Crowley to stop, just after the killing of the goats. It doesn't go too well at first :
In front of this apparently crualty, Aziraphale gives up and is about to leave, BUT notices that the crows around there do not go CAW CAW CAW. He turns toward Crowley and gets from him the REAL staring and honesty he was asking before at this very moment, without any words spoken.
It's important to notice that Crowley turned (twice) toward Aziraphale, so the angel can have his real answer behind the devilish acting he's got to play. Crowley lets the birds go baaaaa on purpose to see what reaction he would get from the other side, or at least, he waits to see the reaction of the angel instead of just leaving. Aziraphale understands that Crowley didn't kill the goats, and assume quickly that the children will be safe.
Crowley is not naive and knows that Aziraphale misunderstands the true meaning of his decision. But he's also enough smart to understand that Aziraphale has a weird behaviour for an angel : no angel would come to Earth reflecting on a decision from God by trying to convince a demon to stop it. It requires at least to have enough consideration toward humans and kids to act like that, which even Gabriel does not have in this story... Aziraphale does have it, and we all know who has it too but doesn't want to show it too much then constantly fails anyway...
He's so bad at being bad that when he sets the children's house on fire, Aziraphale sticks to his positions and remains sure of the idea that the children won't die by Crowley's hand. Icing on the cake : Aziraphale doesn't give up nor go away again : he even goes real close to Crowley this time, sure there is no danger at all for anyone's life, sure that Crowley can't lie anymore or hide under his role if he does that.
Right after in the cellar, Crowley just sees that for once, he's not alone during his duty, and tries to get comfy with what he has in front of him : a wine jar and an angel who has trusted him. Crowley invites Aziraphale to try drinks then food. At first, the angel thinks about temptation from a demon, but the real thing was only about curiosity. Common angels don't have enough curiosity to understand humanity : they often base their knowledge on only ONE experience (like the "birth" of Eve for Gabriel, who considers he's now an expert about human reproduction) or things they've been told since the beginning. From Aziraphale : "demons are bad, angels are good" without nuance. And THIS IS WHY he's not able to understand Crowley completly while they talk about "sides" at the first time.
Aziraphale sees the world as two sides only, but he has this empathic side that can bring him to understand humans, but also and over all Crowley. The thing is Aziraphale never really had the chance to get more interested in something that's not about his own duties, because angels usually are not curious. This is why he mixes up curiosity and temptation. He can't make the difference if he doesn't try anything.
Now, we have Crowley, who doesn't like being a demon at all, who loves questions and curiosity, who CRAVES for answers he might never have... He's on Earth for a long time and do not take his devilish work seriously, because he doesn't understand the point of choosing between demons or angels. He wants to be HIMSELF only. He wants to do what HE thinks is good, and for so long, he never had the chance to think objectively "I'm the one who's right, because I'm just myself and it's okay" without having Heaven or Hell arguing with his way of living.
When Aziraphale just came in his life, it’s as if the world has finally laid out a little something, another curiosity, and this curiosity was curious about him as well, even if this curiosity is irritating. But until then, Aziraphale meets several criterias that angels don't have and that Crowley loves.
And what did God do when Job met the criterias to make God wins the bet ? God granted him with presents.
...so why couldn't Aziraphale has his own presents from Crowley, just for existing in his way ? Yep ! Eating is not at all an invitation to sin in this scene to me.
Crowley's present to Aziraphale is waaaaaaay different that the presents given to Job of course, but it's undoubtedly more important on his scale. It's not about just a piece of meat : Crowley offers Aziraphale the chance and opportunity to find out, experience and enjoy what Earth can offer to him, even when there is a huge storm outside, even when it seems like the end of time ! He gives him the chance to understand why living on Earth can be beautiful and how human creativity can bring a lot of pleasure and good feelings. Food is the big part of it and the first of course, but after that, we can see that Aziraphale learned to dance (another thing that angels don't do), has a huge passion for books and a full collection of them, likes talking about everything, likes living on Earth near humans more than living in Heaven, etc.
At last, it's not important that Aziraphale didn't understand the whole Crowley's elaborate morality/way of living. What's important here is that he's interested to understand, not like other people. Job kept his fey, and Aziraphale kept his trust and open-mindedness to the world. This is also a big present for Crowley, to not feel so alone like before, and also being seen as more than a demon.
Please, just mind this is my interpretation of this scene, and that I really thinks it gives a lot more than what people use to see in it.
#good omens#goodomens#gomens#aziraphale#crowley#bildad the shuite#good omens season 2#gomens2#goodomens2#waiting for season 3#food is love#azirafell#reflecting
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a love letter about writing star wars fanfiction.
(aka a love letter to my eleven year old self, and to anyone who's read bks.)
this is extremely sappy, and gross, and personal.
tw : homophobia, internal & external
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There is nothing I love as much as storytelling.
I wrote my first story when I was eleven. It was a story about an angel and a demon who fell in love with each other and I posted it on Wattpad with a cringey title while under the pseudonym of a young genderless author, and I thought I was so cool.
I wrote that story for some time. I remember being at my lola’s house (the only place I had access to a computer) and checking my page and seeing that I had over one hundred hits on it.
I also remember later that night when my father called my lola and asked her to put me on the phone. I was a child and I used my father’s email for everything because I didn’t have one of my own and I didn't know any better. He called and he told me to delete my account immediately because what I was writing was extremely inappropriate.
My story didn’t contain so much a kiss between its love interests.
I thought maybe he was upset because of a scene where one of the male characters changed shirts, or maybe it was because I was writing about the devil.
But my father wasn’t a religious man. He’s quite the opposite actually, I distinctly remember when I was eight, I would go to church with my lola, and that Christmas I played the Virgin Mary in our pageant.
And I looked out in the audience to find that he wasn’t there.
Lola told me he had a cold sore.
(My mom told me he just didn’t like church.)
When I told him I was sorry and I didn’t know what I did wrong he told me I should write a different kind of story because the one that I was writing was bad, he told me that it was disgusting.
The love interests in my story were both men. And at the ripe age of eleven I hated myself for what I had done.
Over the next ten years I found different ways to tell stories. I wrote songs, I performed in musicals and I played Dungeons and Dragons. Every once and a while I would try to write but it just never worked. I would sit and stare at the notebook or the screen and I could never get further than a chapter or two because I just couldn’t stop thinking about how inappropriate it was for someone like me to be telling a story.
I came out as queer my freshman year of highschool.
That morning a family member (who I have since reconciled with) told me that they didn’t love me anymore. Since that day they have come to terms with who I am and I love them endlessly but I will never really get over that. I just can’t stop wondering what kind of person would tell a fourteen year old girl that they don’t love them over something they couldn't help?
I came out as nonbinary when I was nineteen.
That was the thing that finally destroyed any ounce of a relationship I had left with my father.
I stopped singing, I stopped performing, and I stopped playing Dungeons and Dragons. And I just sort of hit a wall. Years of people telling me that I talk too much, that my identity was something that made me wrong, and years of people halfheartedly listening to me when I spoke finally wore me down to a point where I just wanted to be alone and silent.
I wanted no one to look at me and I wanted no one to speak to me because I had been told since I could talk that I was a chatterbox. So I shut up and I stayed in my room. I went to work, I went home, and once a week I would hang out with the only friend that I hadn’t pushed away. (Trust me I tried, and I’m grateful everyday for how hard he fought to stay.)
I did this for a long time, around three years.
A little over a year ago I started taking medication for my severe social anxiety and my depression. It helped me snap out of the funk I was in and I quickly realized that my routine was about to vastly change. Evan was moving away for college and I was going to be truly alone. Sure I’d made other friends by this point but I only ever really hung out with Evan.
So I needed something to fill that loneliness lest I succumb to it entirely.
So I wrote a story.
A vague story, where the characters had no names but they had big emotions. A story about a princess who fell in love with a knight but she never saw his face, and when he sacrificed himself for her he fought tooth and nail to get back to her, and thanks to his anonymity he actually managed to do it.
At the start of May this year I started to write in earnest, for the first time in a decade. And anyone who has followed Best Kept Secret for a long time knows just how quickly those chapters were coming out. I was posting nearly three chapters a week because a decades worth of words were rushing out of me, desperate to finally see the light of day.
When Evan went to college I wasn’t scared because I had something new to fill my time, a story. Since the day I posted that story, not a day has gone by where I haven’t written.
Yes it is a silly piece of Mandalorian fanfiction, yes it is basically just porn for quite a bit of it, and yes it is full of spelling and grammatical errors. But it’s mine. It’s my story and it doesn’t matter if it’s dorky or terrible or anything along those lines because for the first time in a long time I don’t feel bad anymore. I don’t feel guilt or shame for the things that I say or do because I have been able to grow past that and a large part of that is because of Star Wars fanfiction.
And I wish so badly that I could tell my eleven year old self that they are going to be okay and that she isn't wrong in any sense of the word. I wish that I could tell her that she doesn’t have to be a girl and that she can like whatever she wants to like and she can write whatever she wants to write.
I wrote Best Kept Secret for me, and I wrote it for her. Because she loved Star Wars so fucking much, and if she knew that we found our peace in a silly story about a princess on Naboo she might finally be happy because she loved Padme so so much.
I should probably be more sad that it’s ending but I’m really just proud of myself and I’m eternally grateful to anyone who’s reading this because if it weren’t for people reading what I was writing I don’t know if I would have carried on. I was so scared and nervous to write this story but when people liked it I was reminded of why I liked storytelling so much in the first place.
Because it makes other people happy.
This is already too long and too sappy but I can’t thank everyone who has supported me enough, because this silly little story of mine has unironically changed my life. I’m going to continue to write fanfiction because I love it but I’m also going to write a book. I’m going to write my first novel because this is what I love to do and I want to share it with anyone who cares, this is my favorite thing and thanks to this I have been reminded of that fact.
So thank you, to every single person who read this mess, and thank you to every single person who read the wonderful mess that is Best Kept Secret.
Tomorrow I am going to celebrate with my mother who I have to thank for all of this. She has supported me endlessly and she has pushed me to write and keep writing.
Tomorrow I am going to call my lola, who sadly now lives further away, and tell her that I finished writing the story she constantly asks about.
Thank you mom, thank you Lola, thank you Evan, Tori & Carli, thank you to every single person who has ever supported my writing.
Thank you eleven year old Ro, thank you for writing fanfiction about minecraft youtubers on your lola’s laptop.
here's a photo of the wonderful women of my family and of me writing bks in a coffee shop, curtesy of my friend tori, taking a point five.
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Mael/Estarossa x Goddess clan! Reader
Part 2!
Link for part 1!
I hope you guys have enjoyed part 1! Now for part 2, I will skip to when Estarossa was around.
Tw: Blood, injury.
Tsuki's note: here the archangels aren't dead, because I said so XD
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Ever since Estarossa could remember, he had someone on his mind all the time. He couldn't tell who it was, all he knew is that they were from the goddess clan.
He had few chopped memories: them smiling, walking on a field with him, pulling his arm and the strongest memory: They were crying, bloodied, injured, because of Estarossa.
He had that memory almost clear, the trembling lips, the tear stained cheeks that mixed with blood. But he could not remember their whole face. Who was it?
He thought it could be Elizabeth. But something felt off, his memory of her was one on which she approached him when he was alone in the fields.
Now, Meliodas knew his brother was looking for something, but he didn't know what. Estarossa never said anything to anyone or showed any hints of what it could be.
After the 10 commandments were awakened again, Estarossa resumed his search.
It was so frustrating. Someone, an angel, he could not recall. He didn't know their name or face, but their bloody cheeks and clothes made his heart ache so bad.
It was not common for Estarossa to feel bad about hurting others, but in this case, it hurted so bad knowing they were crying because of him. Was it when he killed Mael?
A little before fighting Escanor, he found someone kneeled down. He had a nostalgic feeling seeing that person kneeling near some trail, they seemed to be studying it.
He approached the person, silently, but they noticed him and whipped their heads towards the demon.
Both seemed awfully surprised for a moment. Estarossa remembers them. It wasn't quite their body, but those eyes, the expression, the mannerism:
Estarossa: Y/N? Ah! Y/n!
You flinched upon hearing your name coming from him and you soon took a fighting pose:
Y/N: !! What do you want?
Estarossa: Me? I was just looking for you!
You squeezed your eyes, not trusting him. He took a few steps closer to you, arms open as he spoke:
Estarossa: You know, you have been quite annoying!
Y/N: Annoying? I haven't seen you since… since…
Estarossa: Since I killed that angel?
Those words felt like daggers to you. Yes, since he killed Mael, your dear childhood friend. You wanted to hate him so much, but something about Estarossa was terribly familiar. You couldn't pinpoint what it was. He approached a bit more and you took a few steps back:
Estarossa: What? You running away? After all my hard work to find ya?
Y/N: ….
You felt tears running down your cheeks and that moment Estarossa expression changed. He wasn't grinning anymore, he seemed to have a mix of pained expression with surprise:
Estarossa: Why so scared? I am not going to hurt you. I promise!
He took a few steps closer. You knew he was faster than you, you couldn't just run. But it seemed that something listened to your silent prayers.
A huge blast of energy nearby caught both of your attentions. You took this opportunity to cast an Ark to have enough light to blind Estarossa and leave.
You could hear him shouting your name and trying to follow you. But soon enough, you were gone.
Estarossa was left frustrated. He finally remembered the face of those memories. Finally got a name and you were gone. With a foul mood he went to join the other demons in the fight.
As Estarossa lost to Escanor and left to heal in the tank, he kept seeing those memories with you in repeat. But this time, your face was clear.
He woke up with you in mind. And took the chance of gathering the commandments to look for you as well. Being stronger wouldn't allow you to run right?
But he could not find you in time. He lost control before finding you again.
In the moment he was roaring and teared up about who he was, he heard a familiar voice, a voice he knew for long, but it sounded so far away:
??: Mael? Mael!
His vision was a bit blurry, he could feel hands on his cheek, he could see a form in front of him and what gave away who it was, was the scent. Familiar scent he knew:
Estarossa/Mael: …Y/N?
You smiled. You held his face a little closer to yours:
Y/N: Yes! It 's me!
His focus was 100% on you and he stopped attacking King and Diane. He was struggling to form some kind of thought of words, but he managed to stutter:
Estarossa/Mael: I am… I am not Mael.. I… not Estarossa…
Y/N:... It doesn't matter who you are, Mael or Estarossa. Just listen to me ok? I am here for you.
He frowned, but he wasn't fighting you:
Y/N: You need to let go of the commandments. Please. They are hurting you.
Estarossa/Mael: But… then, I- my grace is gone. I will be… powerless.
Y/N: That 's fine! I will look for your grace with you! I can protect you too. We will find a way. Please release them.
He hesitated. You were apprehensive, you could hear Gowther telling you to be careful. You felt Elizabeth 's and Deireri's eyes in you. A silent prayer for success.
You slowly felt him relax. Tears appeared in his eyes, he finally fully relaxed leaning his face towards one of your hands:
Estarossa/Mael: I… fine, I-
You smiled. He didn't get to finish what he was saying - your smile was gone, instead you had a surprised face mixed with pain.
You got hurt. You saw your blood spilling on Mael's face and his expression changing to surprise and sorrow. You both could hear a smaller demon yelling from below:
Demon: You will not take Lord Estarossa from us! You filthy Angel!
You could also hear Deireri yelling, Samiel and Tamiel screams as you started to fall. Mael tried to hold you, but he wasn't fast enough. You ignored what everyone was yelling and focused on talking to the man in front of you:
Y/N: Mael! It's ok, I, I - don't…!
As you fell you saw a trail of blood coming from you, his face contorted with pain and piercing yell coming from him. Yelling your name.
Estarossa saw Elizabeth running to you, but his eyes were dead set on that smaller demon. He ignored Deireri, King, Samiel, all of them.
Everything turned black again. Pitch black.
The darkness lasted until Gowther entered Mael's mind. Gowther tried to convince the angel to let go of the commandments, he mentioned you were alive to Mael, but he hardly believed it:
Gowther: They are waiting for you! Ludociel, Elizabeth, Samiel, Tamiel and Y/N! They are waiting for you! Y/N is alive! They are!
Mael: Why would they be waiting for me? I did nothing but hurt them.
Gowther was expelled thinking he lost the fight. In truth, Mael's memory of everyone, but especially you, was echoing in his head.
Your smile on that flower field, you pulling his arm to go somewhere, you scolding him, your hugs.
He decided to see for himself if you were truly alive.
----------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading!
Are you guys up for part 3?
No? Too bad ! It's coming anyway :D
#nanatsu no taizai#nnt#nanatsu no taizai x reader#nnt x reader#mael nnt#mael nnt x reader#estarossa x reader#estarossa#valentine's day event 2023
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Last Chapter Next Chapter
Summary: SMG4 learns its his boyfriend's birthday together with the crew they work together to throw a surprise party for the man. What could go wrong?
Tag: First love, First kiss, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, SMG3 has to battle some inner demons
Chapter 2 SMG3 Birthday Party Part 1 Shopping Trip
SMG3 opens his eyes to see himself in darkness, he groans as he walks around trying to figure where he was. He freezes seeing his old design standing in front of him “Hello…never thought we would meet again did you?”
SMG3 glares at his old self before trying to pass by him, he hears laughter behind him making him turn around “Don't even want to talk to your old friend? Come on, we both know why I'm back.” SMG3 being done with seeing his old self attempted to punch him only to be stopped “You really think that would work?”
SMG3 takes a step back still glaring at his old self “I won't hear what you have to say, I did it once and it almost destroyed me!” He remembers when he first was visited by this voice. He reminded him how SMG4 was better than him, that SMG4 was better off gone and him being the face of the channel would be the only way to win. He got so lost in the voice he took it upon himself to charge at youtube, get the remote and erase everyone that he now calls friends. He did have to admit to himself that if that didn't happen he wouldn't be where he is now, but that doesn't mean the voice being back is a good thing.
He chuckles “Oh really now? Do you think you can really date SMG4? The man who made so many years of your life hell?”
SMG3 covers his ears and starts walking away only for the darkness to change showing him flashbacks to his college years. SMG4 always had a way with people, he was always amazing at making memes. Seeing these memories didn't make him angry anymore, they made him feel proud for how far he came. SMG4 isn't the same asshole he once knew, he was sweet and funny. Thinking this to himself he walks through the memories with a smirk, the voice won't get to him, he won't let it.
“Ah so you think these memories are nothing now? Think SMG3, you almost killed this man…do you really think you two have real trust?” his past self laughs as he changes the room.
SMG3 looks around seeing memories of all the attempts he did, he closes his eyes “I WON'T LET YOU RUIN MY HAPPINESS!”
His past self laughs harder “You think you can date the man you attempted to kill and just fall in love with him and what happily ever after? Good luck with that.”
Before he could reply he heard an unexpected voice both him and his past self look up seeing light peek into the darkness “Gay boy wake up! SMG4 wont let Mario eat!!”
SMG3 wakes up covered in sweat, breathing heavily. He looks around the room confused as Mario jumps in victory, seeing that he was saved from the nightmare he was in he gets up affectionately patting Mario's head “Thanks….and if you tell anyone i did this i will make sure you and your spaghetti never see each other again!”
Mario stood there confused and horrified at SMG3 as the man walked out the room, he decided to shower so he wouldn't walk into the crew covered in sweat. Once done he walks to the kitchen seeing SMG4 letting out a huge sigh, it seems he was only able to keep Mario away from the food for so long. Hearing the door close SMG4 perks up smiling at SMG3 “Hey! I wanted to surprise you with breakfast but…” he points to Mario licking the plate of pancakes clean.
SMG4 had spent the day planning this, today is his boyfriend's birthday and what better way to show how good their relationship is by throwing a surprise party. Mario’s part of the plan was to wake the birthday boy up then act like he ate all the food, the perfect excuse to take SMG3 out of the castle for the others to get the place ready. SMG4 rolls his eyes then takes his partner's hand “Hey wanna go out? We need to restock thanks to Mario,” SMG3 nods as they both leave holding hands.
Mario couldn't help sneak a photo of the sight before he ran to get the others. Tari takes out the boxes filled with decorations “Me and saiko will do the cooking,” Meggy nods, picking one of the boxes “Then me and red will make sure this place is party ready!”
They split up getting ready to do their job, Meggy climbs up the ladder to start hanging the sign with ‘Happy Birthday SMG3’ written on it. She suddenly hears a squeak and looks down confused, all she sees is Mario filling up the balloons and trying to make odd shapes with them. She shrugs it off as she finishes hanging the banner, then it happens again looking down she makes eye contact with a rat “Hey what's up?”
“EEk! A rat!” she fires her splatgun, missing the rat and hitting Mario by accident. Panicked, she slides down the ladder to check on Mario “Ah sorry Mario are you okay?”
Mario wipes the paint off his face, but before he can answer. They both hear more squeaks making them turn to the sound seeing an army of rats charging at them. They hug each other screaming, catching the attention of the others, Bob seeing the army of rats charge in and start fighting them giving Meggy and Mario a chance to move out of the way. Seeing the battle Meggy takes out her splatgun “They got the surprise on us but I won't let them win this fight! Are you with me red?”
Mario nods, taking out his own splatgun and charging into the battle with Bob and Meggy, seeing the battle Tari panicked running into the room to try and save the gifts for SMG3 from the rats. Saiko was busy in the kitchen fighting with the rats trying to take the food.
Meanwhile SMG4 saw the store and slowly let go of his boyfriend's hand. It was one thing having a few friends knowing they were together and another having everyone at the local Walmart finding out before they were ready. As they walk in SMG3 takes out a list of things they need, naming them out when he notices they are close to the object, SMG4 spends the time humming and following his partner's order.
They both freeze though when they notice Swag and Chris buying chili dogs near them, they look at each other and nod hoping they could sneak away before getting caught. Swag would make a huge deal if he found out they were dating, after all he sold pictures of them when they had their hands stuck together. Though he is a good friend of theirs he might end up trying to give relationship advice to them given he is a married man, knowing Swag as long as he has SMG4 is still lost on how he and Sonic have been married for so long.
As they try to avoid the pair they end up failing to notice another person only to end up bumping into Shroomy, he turns and smiles waving at them “Heya fellas! How goes it?”
SMG3 and 4 awkwardly look at each other then do their best to smile “oh uh just some shopping for the castle, you know how Mario is!” SMG4 threw out hoping they could walk past, as they started walking they heard Shroomy behind them “Never seen you two so close before hmm.” In a panic SMG3 pushes down SMG4 “You're going to slow idiot! By the time this gets done your viewers will learn how unfunny you are.”
He then runs off with the shopping cart ignoring his boyfriend glare and Shroomy giggling and commenting how things never change.
Back at the castle the crew chase the rats into the basement coming face to face with the clown himself, now named the Rat king. They all did their best to fight the wave of rats. Seeing the crew slowly winning, Depresso called the rats to him, making a suit of rats. He blasted them all down laughing at them “I did everything to fit in…you all ignored me then you have the nerve to throw a birthday party! After forgetting mine!?” Mario rolls his eyes hearing the clown complain “Hey stinky! Nobody cares!”
He glares at Mario, ready to launch another attack this time focusing on the plumber. At that moment Bob remembers his flute taking it out and playing the song of rats,The rats freeze before removing themself from Depresso to start dancing. The crew stares in shock that it was working, Meggy runs opening the basement door “Bob! Get them out of here as far as you can!” He starts to walk out the basement leading the rats away along with Depresso who the rats were carrying with them. They celebrate their victory only to notice that the castle was still on fire from all the explosives they used on the rats, Tari panics looking for water “Oh no! SMG4 is going to be so upset!”
SMG4 sighs waiting outside the store waiting for SMG3 to pay for everything, why did they both panic seeing their friends in the store like this?
Who cares who knows about them, after all they both care about each other and that should be the only thing that matters. He groans at the memory of how everyone took photos of him and SMG3 when they were stuck holding hands, that could be the reason for their fear. Thinking about it, maybe it's just too new a step for them, they still don't know how to interact with each other. Thinking this makes SMG4 more determined to go on adventures with him in hopes it will bring the two closer. SMG3 walks out holding all the bags, he couldn't help smiling at the sight as he walks up to the man and takes half of the bags. They both smile softly at each other as they walk back to the castle teasing each other and just enjoying the company.
Until they arrive home to a burning castle and half of their friends screaming outside throwing water to stop the flames. SMG4 falls to his knees watching his home burn, SMG3 whistle and opens a portal where the Eggpups come in with water and help turn off the fire.
“WHAT HAPPENED!?” he shouts at the crew as they all look at each other, Meggy steps forward “Sorry SMG4, Depresso got upset that we have ignored him and didn't even throw him a birthday party he wanted payback.”
Mario nods walking up next to her “He threw rats everywhere…they…they even ate Mario’s spaghetti.”
SMG4 walks up to his damaged castle and frowns, seeing this SMG3 gently place his hand on his partner's shoulder “Hey we can get this fix in no tim-” before he can finish SMG4 turns and hugs him. He stood there staring at the random affection confused “uh dude?” SMG4 pulls away, not fully letting the man go but holding him close enough for them to feel each other's warmth. “It was supposed to be a surprise but, Happy birthday SMG3 Sorry rats burn down the party.” Hearing those words made everything click, he forgot his own birthday. He never had people close to him that cared to throw him a birthday party, except for Gary who would send a surprise gift even then it was easy for the day to slip his mind.
SMG3 wraps his arms around SMG4 without thinking and hugs him affectionately for the first time, he wasn't one to show affection so the sight took everyone by surprise. Bob couldn't help himself and points at them “Lol that's pretty gay,” blushing SMG3 lets go of 4 acting like he didn't do anything. SMG4 giggles watching his boyfriend try to hide his red face “Yeah Bob it is, well shall we make a plan b for this party?”
#first love#smg34#smg43#smg34 fanfiction#shygirl4991 fanfiction#First kiss#fluff#angst#emotional hurt/comfort#SMG3 has to battle some inner demons#enemies to friends to lovers
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7 & 18 - betrayal/asshole whumpee
TW: domestic violence, child abuse, alcoholism, transphobia, minor whump, parent whumper, teenage whumpee
Note: I figured it was about time to let people in on Colt's teenage years. Doomed from the start of the story, as they say.
"Jessica!" Daniel shouted. "You calm down right this instant!"
He threw his beer bottle, shattering it against the far wall, littering broken glass on the filthy, torn up carpet.
"Oh, and that's another thing!" his child screamed, ignoring the dark blood on their bruised face. "I'm changing my mother fucking name!"
If Daniel got any more red in the face there wouldnt be a drop of blood elsewhere is his reeking body.
"The hell you are! And ladies shouldn't curse! I don't know how many times I have to say it to get it through your head!"
"I'm not a fucking lady! I'm a man, and you had better get that through your thick, drunken skull!"
Colt panted heavily, staring up at his father. The dilapidated house reeked of booze and cigar smoke, and Colt wanted nothing more than to get away. Anywhere would be preferable to here. Even being a sixteen year old, homeless transsexual.
"How many times do I need to beat the right idea into you?!" Daniel shouted.
"I don't care much you beat me! I'm not afraid of you and your fucking belt! You're fucking disgusting!"
"Your mother was too light on you! She should have set a better example!"
"Oh, like yours?!" Colt snarled. "Beating your wife for not smiling enough and drinking our money?!"
"Watch your tone, you filthy, dick sucking, trannie whore!"
Daniel swung at Colt, who ducked and bolted for the door. Anywhere was better than here.
He couldnt help feeling betrayed as he ran down the street, illuminated by flickering street lamps, praying to God and Satan alike that his father wouldn't catch him.
Of course he couldn't trust his own disgusting, pervert father. Or his lousy, push over mother. His home was a fucking hell hole, perfectly suiting its demons of inhabitants.
But why couldn't he have one person? A brother, or a sister, or anyone in his corner? Why did it always come down to the three of them in their shitty little house in the slums?
Colt sat down to rest at a bus stop, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his heart pounding harder than it ever had before. He was free.
At long last, he wouldn't have to deal with his family. He could only hope that his father wouldn't murder his mother for this. But that wasn't his concern anymore. He'd never know what happened to them until they met again in hell under the devil's whip.
His gnawing hunger made him wish he had stolen his father's booze money for food. But the fight had happened so quickly, leaving him no time to prepare.
Colt decided that it didn't matter how shitty his father was, he could always be worse. Why not? At least he would never have children to take it out on.
He could drink and smoke. He was a fantastic gambler. He could get tattoos and piercings. He could beat someone black and blue just as well as the next guy.
All he needed now was to get out of his fucking preppy school dress and into work clothes, then get a job waiting tables at some truck stop somewhere. Life could unfold from there.
Colt smiled as he stepped onto the bus. His prospects were finally looking up, a golden horizon barely visible beyond this bleak city of misery.
Taglist: @devourerofcheesecake @elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenly-whumper @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chibichibivale @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz
Event: @whumpay
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Astrid vs the Goblin Camp
But first, some Visitations
Rafael: Oooh, looks like you're in a spot of bother. I could probably help with that ... for a price.
Astrid: Um ... thank you for the ... very kind offer. And ... you know, the banquet and everything, though I've got a bit of a thing about powerful magical entities and foodstuffs after the Hag And Undead Husband Incident--
Rafael: ...Sorry, how am I hearing the capital letters on that one?
Gale: She insists it's fractional pauses between words. I still can't quite manage it myself. Perhaps it's a bardic talent.
Astrid: Anyway, I'm afraid we're a little full up on deals with beings from the various hells. I mean, still not really liking The Actually A Tiefling Incident very much--
Wyll: I did apologise for that!
Astrid: Not blaming you! I mean, I was pretty suspicious too until The Exploding Hyena Incident. ...Look, sorry, but I think we'll find a way that doesn't involve an open-ended bargain with a demon, or a devil, or whichever sort of entity you are because you're clearly on that end of the spectrum. But thank you very much for the offer, and have a lovely day.
Rafael: You'll be back. ...Though now I really have to wonder--
Astrid: You'll be The Demon Dinner Party Incident.
Rafael: ...Ah.
And again...
Spooky Whispers: Find the Prism for the Absolute and--
Shadowheart: FUCK. OFF.
Spooky Whispers: *do, in fact, FUCK. OFF*
Astrid: Okay, I think I've been really good about not asking about the whatsit so far. But now I kind of have to ask. What is the whatsit?!?
Shadowheart: Honestly not sure, but most of my memories are being held as collateral until I get it to Baldur's Gate.
Astrid: Oh. So ... when I asked a little more about you...
Shadowheart: Well, yes, that was mostly the memory loss, but part of it was trust issues. But if it helps, I like night orchids, and I can't swim.
Astrid: ...I will find you ALL the night orchids. And maybe teach you to swim. If you want. Might take less armour, though.
Shadowheart: *perks up*
Controller Person: *starts seriously rethinking romance choices*
And, because infiltrating a goblin stronghold is the best time for this
Gale: Okay, so draining magical artefacts isn't so much working anymore and if I don't do something about this really ill-considered gift to my last lover, I am going to explode.
Astrid: ...I'm generally willing to leave the past as your business, but I kind of want to know who your last lover was that a gift you gave her is enough to kerboom you.
Gale: Um ... Mystra ... as it happens...
Astrid: ...wut.
Gale: Also ... the explosion wouldn't just kill me. It'd take out an area about the size of Waterdeep.
Astrid: ...................How much do we need to have extracted from you?!?
Astarion: So ... Shadowheart ... you wouldn't happen to have--
Shadowheart: No! Unless that's something they made me forget, but ... almost certainly no!
Astarion: Well, there you have it. Either Astrid feels she couldn't possibly match up favourably to Gale's ex, or he explodes and takes himself out of the running.
Shadowheart: Shut up!
Astarion: Oh. Oh. You'd accept pining from afar if it meant she didn't have to feel the pain of someone she cares about dying! You, a cleric of Shar, no less!
Shadowheart: My greatclub could be sharpened to a stake, Astarion...
But finally, into the Shattered Sanctum
High Priestess Gut: So you wanted to talk?
Astrid: Ummmmmmmm ... not so much. *pulls lute; to the tune of The Sound of Silence* "Hello goblin, my new foe / You are a creepy so-and-so / Since you're making all the tieflings stressed / We've come to do the violence we do best / And your allies / Won't hear your cries for help / Not a yelp / Because I'm caaaasting Silence..."
High Priestess Gut: ............*mouthing obscenities*
Astarion: *critical-hit SHANKs her to death*
Astrid: ...Anyone else think it's kind of ironic that a spell that makes a Silence has verbal components?
And, a little further in
Minthara: Go burn down the druid grove!
Astrid: Oh, for-- how many times are we going to have to save it from you idiots?!?
Minthara: Owowowow!
Astrid: Whoops. ...Wait, what am I saying; I mean good! 'Scuse me, Astarion...
Astarion: Waitwut--
Astrid: *performs dive-bomb on lute and Thunderwaves Minthara right into the chasm, destroying the bridge in the process*
Shadowheart: ...I have to admit, that's a lot more impressive than "yeet".
Astarion: Yes, but I can't jokingly copy that one.
Astrid: *shooting at Scrying Eye* Slay now, praise later, please and thank you! There's going to be backup, and unless they have the jumping prowess of a turtle, the bridge being out won't keep them at range for long!
Astarion: Ah, yes, but two can play at that game. *leaps over chasm, grabs goblin, FEEDS*
Gale: You had to give him those boots, didn't you.
Astrid: I was very disappointed that they didn't give him bunny ears.
And, awhile later
Ragzlin: The mind flayer corpse won't talk!
Astrid: I could ask some questions, if you want...
Ragzlin: You're a bard; you can talk good. FINE.
Astrid: What ... is your name?
Ragzlin: ...What the--?
Astrid: What ... is your quest?
Ragzlin: ...I don't--
Astrid: What ... is the airspeed velocity of an unladen bugbear?
Ragzlin: Hey, waitaminit--
Astrid: *Thunderwave dive-bomb on the lute*
Ragzlin: *goes flying*
Astrid: No convenient chasms here, though. Shame.
Stabnation: *ensues*
And, during a really needed long rest...
Astrid: So ... I've talked to Wyll about the pact he really needs out of, Gale about the ... kerboom thing, and Shadowheart about her whole deal. Want to tell me about the monster hunter?
Astarion: My master in Baldur's Gate wants me back, apparently. And there's nothing we can do about it if he wants to take me, so I'm not even sure why I'm bothering to tell you this.
Astrid: Do you even look at the things I ask you to carry?
Astarion: *peers into haversack* Alchemist's fire and ... what's this?
Astrid: Holy water, or so Shadowheart tells me.
Astarion: What the f-- are you trying to kill me?!?
Astrid: No, I would have put it in your wine if I was trying to kill you with it.
Astarion: That ... is a singularly horrible mental image, but go on...
Astrid: Just because those things work against you doesn't mean you can't use those things against other vampires. And you have options he doesn't. Like, being out in the daytime.
Astarion: You are suicidally overconfident ... and yet all of that might work. Yes, I think I'll echo Shadowheart here: I fear you.
Shadowheart: I do not fear her anymore!
Astarion: Oh, nonsense you don't; you just worry that your devotion to Shar might get in the way of--
Shadowheart: *throws a half-rotted treacle tart at Astarion's head*
Astrid: ...I was wondering why you were carrying those around. Anywaaaaay... How about we get some rest because we still have to find Haslin down in the pits and we should probably rescue Volo too.
Astarion; Gale; Shadowheart; Wyll: Volo's an arse!
Astrid: Yes, but he's an arse that doesn't deserve to be rump roast for goblins, okay?!? They were cooking dwarf out there!
Astarion: Still, couldn't I just take a minor nibble?
Astrid: Gods, no. Stupid might be catching.
Gale: So you can be insulting about people when you're out of range?
Astrid: That or he has a really bad headache right now. Either way.
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Sonic & the Ninja's Daughter Bonus Chapter 1 - Shadows
Bonus Chapter - Shadows
"I know I promised that I wouldn't cause trouble like that to worry you, but in that situation I didn't think I had any other choice." Emia explained, looking down at her grazed knees that were half-exposed under her knee-length leggings as she sat on the hospital bed while her uncle wrapped white bandages around her bruised arm. "I wasn't the best fighter and that monster took advantage of me. Had Sonic not been there to save me, I...I don't think I would have been able to make it out of there..."
"I see," Mijiyo replied, remaining focused on his work. "Well, either way I'm glad you're alright..."
"Uncle." To this he finally looked up at her. "Sonic has saved my life on two different occasions," she explained. "Six years ago, you were the one who saved the life of my brother and my life too. Later, that very same life was saved by Speed-o'-Sound Sonic, who has now saved it again today."
Her uncle smiled. "Ah. Yes, I think I get the picture, Emia," he said softly, placing a hand on his niece's wrist. "You're trying to tell me just how amazing and strong this Sonic fellow is, am I right?"
She nodded twice, a light blush dusting over her cheeks before her uncle lifted up her chin. At that moment, she was reminded of the last moments before the skyscraper exploded, the feeling of Sonic's war fingers underneath her chin.
Emia felt herself awkwardly blush for a moment and tried to look down before she felt Sonic's hand lift her chin up, and she saw the soft smile on his face. The moment she felt his warmth, she was somewhat calm and brave enough to look at his face again. A strange feeling started rising inside of her as she captured every feature.
She couldn't understand why she felt the way she did; that sort of thing had never happened to her before. There was just no way she could be falling for a ninja, a man she had only known for a short while; they were only friends. However, the way she felt at that one moment before the monster attack seemed to tell her otherwise. She just didn't know her own emotions anymore, and she didn't know why she was even experiencing these weird and new emotions.
"Hey, Emia. Mind if I ask you something?" her uncle asked her, bringing her back to the hospital room she was in.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Well, it's about this Sonic friend of yours," he explained, sitting down on the hospital bed next to her. "Given what you've told me about him, it seems to me that you know something that the rest of the family doesn't. Just be honest with me about this. Who is he, Emia?"
The question completely caught her off guard. How could she even answer that? She didn't want to tell her family the truth because she was afraid that she may end up hurting Sonic's trust. But even so, it was likely Sonic also knew that he wouldn't go unnoticed forever. She exhaled a deep sigh. 'I'm sorry, Sonic. I have to do this.'
And so despite her hesitance to do so, under the condition that no one else – not even their family - was to know about it, she told her uncle everything, not hiding anything from him, from the night when Sonic saved her from the trio of thugs and about how he revealed his identity as a ninja. She also included how she and Sonic were the ones who took down the Demon level monster and what he had asked her after it was defeated.
"Hm. I see," her uncle, fixing his glasses. "But you said nothing about your past to him?"
She shook her head. "All he knows is that my mother is dead. That's about it. Just please, don't tell anyone about what I've told you. I don't want to cause Sonic any more trouble!"
"Relax, dear. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to." Mijiyo said softly with a smile. "The question is now, what are you going to do now?"
She looked directly into her uncle's eyes after momentarily closing her eyes and answered confidently, "Tell him everything."
. . .
Later that night, somewhere in the abandoned area...
"Say, did you hear? A Demon Level monster was defeated in Z-City today."
"Demon?"
"That's right, and the one responsible for defeating it was none other than her, his daughter, with the help of one of our own."
"Who might that be?"
"The last survivor of the Final 44."
"That's impossible! Why would he help her?"
"No, no, it's true. I happened to be watching the show from a distance. She's not as weak as she was all those years ago. It seems that the ninja's daughter is getting stronger."
"Interesting. Well, you're willing to believe what they call the 'rumor mill', she killed that Demon monster with her father's own kunai, too..."
"Rumors are just rumors. The main point of it is that the girl is still alive, and it's likely that the Final 44's sole survivor has sided with her. If this is the case, then the question is, what do we do now?"
"Do we attack?"
"No, I doubt that would be wise. We don't know if he is aware of the girl's past."
"Ha! Please. I highly doubt that he even knows who her father is yet! But if he does find out, then we should move. Him siding with her could be a bit of a problem for us."
"Oh, don't you worry about that. We of the Golden 37 will take things from here. The rest of you lay low for now. Leave everything to us. When the time comes, we'll know what to do."
Meanwhile...
Sonic sat under the square window at his hideout, propping one arm on his knee as moon rays gave light to the floor around him. His obsidian hair was down, cascading down his back and shoulders. He had white bandages wrapped around his forehead and left bicep, and was wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans and a baggy tank top. The memories of the monster attack were still whizzing through his mind, especially the aftermath, when she told him that she wasn't a ninja.
"Emia. Are you a ninja, too?"
"N-no. Sonic, what are you talking about?"
"Wait, you're...you're not a ninja?"
He played with a kunai with one hand. It was hers – the one she had used on that snowy night against those thugs – and he had lost track of how long he had been looking at it. 'A girl that isn't a ninja but uses kunai. How does that make any sense...?'
If Emia wasn't a ninja, then maybe it was a member of her family who she took after, but it certainly wasn't her aunt. It couldn't be her uncle, because he was a doctor, and definitely not her cousin Rin either. That only left one other option: her parents. But in the end, he really didn't know. With a sigh, he stood up and leaned on the window pane, gazing out at the abandoned area.
It was strange, though: the more time he spent with Emia, the more interesting and peculiar she became to him. He could sense something special about her the night they first met, and for some reason, he could feel as if he slowly getting closer to finding out what that special thing was. Not only that, but during that monster attack, he felt this need to protect her, but he wasn't sure whether it was because of instinct or because of something else. Something so much more. Raising the kunai in front of him, the tip of it glistened in the moonlight. A small smile played on his lips before his grey eyes gazed up at the crescent moon. At that very moment, he quietly spoke the words he really wanted to say the night he first met Emia.
"Emia. I want to know everything about you."
Chapter 4 coming soon!
See tags below for character teasers
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I lost a bet to myself and paid the price by making another demon sibling AU. Was originally just going to be headcanons and doodles, but I wound up writing the parts I felt like. The names of Tengen's siblings are entirely made up. This will come in two parts due to length.
Clicking each bone in his spine, Yogen stood to his full height, taller than Tengen remembered. It wasn't uncommon to go long periods of time without seeing his siblings when they were on their own missions, but Yogen shouldn't had changed that much. "I'll spare you. It wouldn't do for the Uzui clan not to have a head. Now you're the strongest one."
"...Yogen..."
"I wouldn't had been able to take you on, if not for the fact that you'd never have done it if you knew. You should thank me, Aniki. You know what I've spared you? Father was going to make us all have a fight to the death. You'd have done at least half of this."
"What have you done!?"
"I ate them," he laughed, something Tengen had never heard Yogen do in his adult voice. He had the most infectious laugh when they were children, and this rang with the same pleasure, however dissonant. "I was stunned too, at first. When I came to, I had eaten two of them, they were still warm in my mouth, their cells already nourishing mine. But you know what? I decided to eat the others. I was going to kill them anyway, what difference does it make that I should eat them?"
Tengen's face pearled back into a snarl, his eyes flaring.
"One, two, three... Eizen got away before I could bite him, though. That whelp would had done nothing for me. The one I really wanted to eat was the strongest," he said, his glowing white eyes shifting down to their father's fresh corpse. "And now, even he's nothing to me."
Tengen could stand no more of this. "Yogen!!" he screamed and gripped one of the swords at his back, and charged at Yogen all in one motion. A hard sickle burst out of the flesh of Yogen's arm and caught it, but when Tengen pulled his other sword down through Yogen's shoulder and chest, the sound of ripping sinews what different than it should had been. A look over to the injury revealed that the shoulder was repairing itself before Tengen's eyes. When had he learned any technique like that?
The momentary lapse in focus caught him, Yogen swiped up against Tengen's forearm. It felt too varied to had been spiked knuckles--those were his fingertips, he had grown claws. Tengen drew a sword up to lop off Yogen's forearm, and then his brother let out a shrill scream as his features lit up and revealed how contorted they had become. Yogen didn't look human anymore with how his veins bulged and burned. Burned? From what? Tengen took a look over his shoulder to the sun rising and casting light through the wide open door, and when he looked back, Yogen was gone.
---
Tengen watched the flames consume the house and the bodies of his slain family. He had combed it for any trace of Yogen, but his brother left none. Hope though he did that the flames may consume Yogen too, he knew in his gut that he was still out there.
Behind him, Suma sneezed in a gust of smoke that wafted into her face. Hinatsuru handed her a handkerchief, as she and Makio were already covering their faces in case of poison. Tengen didn't bother, he was resistent to most ninja poisons, and the scratches down his forearm were already less swollen. "You three should go back to your homes."
"No!" insisted Suma.
"We're already members of the Uzui clan," said Hinatsuru.
"Your revenge is ours," added Makio.
Hinatsuru made the most important point, they were already seen as his property. He could hear whispers and feel them all being watched; the other ninja clans knew what had befallen the most powerful family, and the Uzui name was now shunned. Even if Tengen wanted to stay, he had no place in the village, and neither did anything that belonged to him. The only thing left for him now was to track his brother down and drag him to hell.
Someone else was approaching, and Tengen reached for one sword. Uneven footsteps. One didn't have the splat of a foot, it was the thunk of wood--a cane, or two canes? A leisurely, but determined pace. Self-assuredness, even for entering ninja territory. A robust heartbeat. Who was coming?
"Well, is that what you all look like? I feel like I've wandered into one of those storybooks," said an old man. He had one missing leg, a full head of hair and moustache to rival it, a grin, and a telltale scar lining the underside of his left eye. "I had always left your kind alone, but I couldn't when I felt the presence of a demon over here."
"Who are you?" Tengen asked, stetching one arm before his wives while the other hand stayed at his weapon.
"You didn't chop its head off, did you, ninja boy? It's long gone by now, you know. It'll hide from daylight. Be even more trouble to find if it's one of your folk."
"How do you know about us?" Makio shot back.
"How do you children not know about demons? Aye," the old man huffed to himself as he set down a stool he carried. He planted his rump on it, then folded his arms. "The name's Kuwajima Jigoro, former Roaring Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corp. I figured this would be out of your expertise, so I've come to help."
Tengen felt in his gut he could trust that. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, his wives all doing likewise behind him. Jigoro seemed to enjoy that, but insisted they do not. Instead of bowing, he'd appreciate the ladies rubbing his shoulders to display their gratitude, he said.
While Hinatsuru and Makio set about at each arm, Suma kneeled at his remaining foot with a gasp. "Aren't old people not supposed to be this beefy?"
"Can it, Suma!" chided Makio.
Hinatsuru said nothing, but could feel something was different in this man, not only in his physique. Whatever he had to say was going to change their lives more than the previous night already had. They all listened carefully as Jigoro orated about the existence of demons, how they eat humans, how they are near impossible to kill, but also the methods of those who hunt them, with specialized blades and an organization to support them. As he began describing Breath, however, Tengen stopped him. "I already know all that, that's ninjutsu basics. That's not giving me anything I don’t already have."
"Oh? I figured as much. Always made me curious about you pups. So you you've got the basics of Breath technique, huh?"
"It's beyond basic," he shot him an annoyed frown.
"I'll be the judge of that. See that tree over there? That's probably about the strength of the usual demon neck. Go hog wild on it." As much as showing off was against the ninja code, Tengen wasn't in the mood to argue and made short work of that tree, the only sound being the pop of it seperating into two halves. Jigoro gave him a clap, then stood with his cane. "Good accuracy. Spot on. Now you pick one out for me. Take some mercy, though, I'm only working at half-strength." He balanced on his foot and his peg, plopping the end of his cane in his palm to show off that he meant to use it in place of a sword. Tengen hated when other people tried to be show-offs, so he pointed to a tree a few rings thicker than the one he had cut.
The old man eyed it, then slid his good foot through the dirt, and as he leaned forward, clouds of steam rose from his lips. "Breath of Thunder, Fifth Form. Heat Lightning."
The sound hit Tengen so hard that he covered his ears, and the old man was gone--on the other side of the tree, which was not only cleanly chopped, but split itself in half vertically as it fell. A rarity, Tengen's jaw dropped. Jigoro looked back with a fierce grin, knowing he'd have left them all impressed.
Rather than one knee, Tengen planted his palms and face to the ground. "Please teach me this technique, Master."
"When did I ever say I wanted a student like you? You already said you know Breath technique, don't you?"
"You won't teach him?" Suma sat straight up, little tears in the corners of her eyes.
"I only want students with talents I can mold. You're already set your ways and would just try to make Thunder Breathing into what you want. You can't fill a full tea cup, as they say."
Tengen wanted to insist he's do anything to take his revenge, but the old man was right. As he was, he wouldn't be able to unlearn everything he always knew, it was as much a part of him as every experience and memory, like every scar, such as the ones running down his left arm.
"The true nature of Thunder Breathing would escape you, you'd get too caught up in how powerful it looks. You're too flashy!"
His cheeks flushed. "Say that again."
"You're too... flashy? I don't think a ninja should find that a compliment."
"You can't tell him all that and then not train him!" insisted Makio. "Please! There's got to be something you can do! Tengen-sama works really hard!"
"Tengen-sama works harder than anyone!"
"Please, Master. Tengen-sama can think flexibly, please give him a chance."
"I won't! I can already tell he's not the sort of student I'm looking for!" he barked back, and Suma burst out into sobs, while Hinatsuru hid delicate tears and Makio's face turned dark red. Jigoro flinched at the sight of the upset girls, then looked back to Tengen. "I--I didn't come out here to leave you high and dry, you know. I already told you about the Corp, didn't I? That's where you really need to go. I can't teach you Thunder Breathing, but if you really think you can pick up something new, there's an old scroll I've got of an off-shoot Breath. Someone like you might be able to pull it off. What do you say, ninja boy? How about I give that to you and you teach yourself Sound Breathing?"
---
From there, Tengen took much the same course as in canon. When he became a Pillar and had his meeting with Oyakata-sama, he was upfront about his reasons for entering the Corp. Oyakata-sama appreciated his frankness and assured him that the entire Corp would support him if they found any information on Yogen, but Oyakata-sama was also keen on the undercurrent of Tengen's heart; that he was relieved to leave the murderous ways of ninja, and that he wanted to live an upright life. This finally gave words to something Tengen always felt, but thought he had no right to wish for. He and his wives were moved and they swore loyalty to Oyakata-sama.
However, as time went on, there were no clues whatsoever about Yogen. Around the time they all got antsy, Makio finally couldn't stand it anymore and suggested they may never find him. "Think about it," she said. "This Corp is full of strong swordsmen. Someone might had already chopped off his head long before we got here."
While that should had come as a relief, Tengen couldn't help but find the idea frustrating. That revenge was his to take. He could think of only one person stronger than him who might had done it, so he described Yogen to Himejima one day and asked if he remembered seeing a demon like that. Himejima plainly replied that he was blind.
As they began to accept that they may never have closure, Hinatsuru proposed that they be satisfied bagging an Upper Moon. That should be enough for them to earn their peace, she said, and as much as it grinded away at Tengen's heart, he agreed.
In the course of performing Tengen's Pillar duties, they closed in on what was likely an Upper Moon in Yoshiwara. Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma slipped in, but when he lost contact, Tengen went looking for some female Corp members to sneak in and see what was up. That's when he reencountered the boy whose head he meant to spill at the last Pillar meeting, as well as his two annoying buddies. Inosuke would had been satisfyingly flamboyant, if not for the fact that he was gross. The other whelp was named Zenitsu.
"You write that 'Zen' with the kanji for virtue?"
"Yeah. What's it to you?"
"Nothing," Tengen replied, never saying anything of it ever again. It didn't take long for him to notice that Zenitsu had ears on par with his own.
The boys managed to get in, and soon the plan went awry. Tengen's first encounter with an Upper Moon broke out, and that went awry in the most horrifically flamboyant of ways. Tengen found himself unconscious, needing to stop his heart to keep the demon poison from spreading, as it was many times more potent than any ninja or demon poison he encountered before. There was fire in the wreckage nearby, he'd be consumed if he doesn't move soon. In the odd space where consciousness was returning to him, his hearing reached into a deeper plain, where he could hear the most carnal thoughts pounding though the bodies of those around him.
Tanjiro was panicking.
No scent! No scent! Upper Moon Five--where did--but--no scent! No scent!!
Tengen could hear Upper Moon Six, in both bodies, but he couldn't hear any other demon. It gave off no sound. He struggled to look in Tanjiro's direction, and was stunned by the sight of a demon partway sticking out of the shadow Tanjiro has cast, guarding Upper Moon Six with a kunai stuck in his arm.
"Sakage!" growled Upper Moon Six. That is not the demon's name. "I don't need you here! Were you intruding on my thoughts?"
"I didn't need to. I heard the cacophony from ages away. You wouldn't had seen wisteria coming anyway."
Upper Moon Six looked to the kunai, while Tanjiro panicked that the poison had no effect on the newly arrived demon.
"Quit with all the fuss. I'd appreciate it if you hurry up and silence that Pillar over there," he turned his glance to Tengen. His eyes had writing in them, but that was Yogen. "I can't be bothered."
Yogen disappeared into the shadow as suddenly as he appeared, and Tanjiro fell forward with a stumble. He'd be a sitting duck like that, Tengen had to go save him, he pushed himself off the ground to--but--but his arm was missing--the scars were torn off-----
---
Yogen had been quick to learn some of the ins and outs of being a demon, but not all the finer details. He gathered from the surrounding demons' fear of the drum demon that the "Twelve Moons" were the most fearsome demons, closest to their progenitor, but didn't those other demons notice that the drum demon couldn't stomach humans as he ate them? That demon was weak, and Yogen wouldn't stand for it. He cut off his head.
It did not kill the demon, who screamed at him with the characters "Lower Six" in one of his eyes, but he shut up quick when Kibutsuji Muzan arrived. Despite warning Yogen that this was not how fights between demons were done and he should kill Yogen for acting without permission, Muzan smilingly decided to allow it, and instructed him to absorb the former Lower Moon Six and assume his role. Muzan did not care for how Yogen's name referenced sunlight, though. He renamed him Sakage on a whim.
Sakage went on to learn very quickly how to please Muzan, and how to climb the ranks. While not immune, he could resist wisteria poison, which Muzan was more than pleased to borrow from him and see how he could try to adopt it into his own cells. Sakage could move between connected shadows, and in spying on the Corp, he picked up on the hand signs the swordsmen used and quickly deciphered them, and openly reported so to the demons that outranked him. With hearing far more advanced that his brother's ever was, he listened to the information shared between crows, piecing apart their language to the best of his understanding.
Lower Moons Three and Two later, he used his spying abilities to identify his next target: Upper Moon Five.
Gyokko was startled by the challenge, and under Muzan's gaze, he could not refuse. Sakage made short work of him, and the other Moons all felt a chill. Akaza's chill was excitement.
Akaza wasted no time in chatting up the new Upper Moon, for Sakage likewise had a stated hatred for weaklings. While Sakage did find it a bit of a bother, especially since he knew he was a long way from ever being able to pose a real challenge to Akaza, he learned that the quickest way to stop Akaza from pestering him was to spar. Akaza loved to chit-chat even while sparring, though, and this became a useful way for Sakage to catch up on a hundred years of gossip about the other Upper Moons.
While it did feel they had somewhat of a friendship, one day they got on the topic of poison. "I hate people who use poison," said Akaza, between punches. "It's as cowardly and low as you can get."
Sakage, who could create a myriad of weapons from his cells as needed and always laced them in poison, was not offended, but disagreed. "I see no problem in being effective."
This gave Akaza pause, and an uncomfortable drop in his stomach. He excused himself, and bothered Sakage not so often after that.
Muzan was typically pleased with Sakage, which made Hantengu tremble that the ambitious demon had it out for him next. When Muzan was in a foul mood after Upper Moon Six's defeat, Sakage was likewise in a bad mood for the annoyance he encountered out there, someone who should had stayed hidden away instead of bearing free his inherently show-offy personality by joining the Demon Slayer Corp, especially since he was sure to have his ears set to the ground now for any new sign of him. He was certain Tengen witnessed him. But, for as much of an insult as it was to the Upper Moons that Gyutaro let him live, Tengen wouldn't be much of a threat anymore.
Still, Sakage knew to keep his cool. He had news to report, and he was certain of his deciphering. When he declared where the swordsmith village was located, Muzan had no doubts, and sent Hantengu alone. "Now why couldn't you find that, after all this time?" Muzan smirked to Nakime. She, not being of any rank, could merely apologize. Sakage took no pleasure or pride in looking better than a peer whom he knew he was stronger than. Muzan's mood could never be sustained for long, though, and he very soon frowned back to him. "You've brought no word of the blue spider lily."
"My apologies."
"Aren't ninja supposed to have knowledge of these things? Weren't you of a high ranking clan? Go back and order them to search."
And, at that moment, a dangerous thought escaped Sakage's inner filter, it leaked though to his mind at the same moment it leaked to Muzan's: But I can't show my face back there.
The way Muzan's face bent with disgust drove more terror into Sakage than when he was still a human and first encountered the demon lord. He felt certain of a swift death, but Muzan let him be. Sakage was still too useful. But, Sakage knew he'd have to crawl back to Muzan's graces by providing something of more use to him. He had to unveil a secret of more value.
--
Tengen, who remained active despite missing an eye and a hand, was present at an emergency Pillar meeting. Tokito and Kanroji were bandaged up, and they recounted how the swordsmith village was attacked by Upper Moon Four. With two Pillars and a few other reliable Corp members all working together they defeated him well before daybreak, but not before discovering an ancient ability known only as "the mark."
As he was now, Tengen knew he'd never attain this. What bothered him more was how the demons found the village, so hidden that he'd have to put his mind to it to have figured out where it was. He could had resorted to old tricks to figure it out, whether that be silently tracking the smiths after their deliveries or flirting with the Kakushi, but what recourse would a demon have had?
'I heard the cacophony----'
A demon may have had ears that rivaled his own, or were better!
Feeling sure of which demon it may had been, he set to thinking of what he would do next. If the demon moved in shadow, listening for the Corps' secrets, what would be a bigger target than the swordsmith village?
Oyakata-sama!
"Uzui-san, are you alright?" asked Himejima. "You seem quiet today."
"You look pale," added Kanroji.
"I'm jealous I won't get one of those flashy marks," he lief without flaw. "We all know I can't take any demons on like I used to. Maybe I don’t belong here."
"Uzui, what sort of talk is that?" Iguro looked to him with his flamboyant dichromatic eyes wide, and brows knit tight over them. "This isn't like you."
"I've got a different sort of mission to go on, I'll see myself out. You all stay here and keep each other company discussing this."
"Then I'll excuse myself here as well--"
"Not you, you've got no excuse," Uzui forced Tomioka back to a seated position by pressing on his head.
In conducting his own investigation, Tengen set his crow to work investigating from the sky. What the crow learned, tracing a few leaks and scolding the birds involved, was that their mid-air communications may had been what spoiled the secret location. This confirmed Tengen's suspicion about Yogen's hearing. He had a feeling about some other spoiled secrets too, and in following up with Corp members involved in previous mishaps, he concluded that the secret hand signals had been divulged.
--
(Read the conclusion reblog here.)
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10 years | ksj
pairing: kim seokjin x oc (ft. brother!jimin)
genre: brother's best friend, angst, forgiveness?, teeny tiny fluff (it's barely there lol)
words: 7, 294
summary: 10 years change people but you still remember
"Why are you freaking out?" Isabelle is attempting to get you to stay in one position, but it's fruitless when all you do is pace back and forth in the space of the changing rooms when you hear people barking orders from the outside.
"Why aren't you freaking out?" You exasperate.
Isabelle glares at you, nimble hands reaching to tighten the lace corset around your waist in one swift motion; turning your body to face her as she does her job of primping you up.
"You're being dramatic." She rolls her eyes.
You huff.
You loved Isabelle, probably because she's been working for your family for years and that she was the mother figure in your life that you never could have gotten from your own biological one—but also because she was the only person that knew her way around that thorny mind of yours.
"What would you do if you haven't seen someone in over ten years and the last memory you have with them is bitter?" You say in a hushed whisper.
Isabelle's eyes soften, hands reaching out to rest on your shoulders as your head droops, anxiety blooming in your chest even if you weren't the one getting married today.
"What can you do but say hello?" She says, "Time doesn't stop for anyone, _____."
You sigh, fiddling with your fingers when you hear the rustles of the curtains, causing both of your heads to turn towards the source of the noise.
"_____, your brother is asking for you." Lea, your brother's wedding planner, peeks her head through the curtains to call you.
Your heart betrays your seemingly calm stature as you begin to perspire, terrified of being face to face with the person that you should've been most excited to see.
"Time's up, ______. You can't run forever." Isabelle says, eyes solemn.
"You'd think being an adult would mean you grow out of old habits ..." Jimin mutters, glaring at you when you finally make your appearance at the rehearsal dinner.
You stick your tongue out at him petulantly, unable to forget the fact that he was no longer the older brother that you hero-worshipped because he excelled in everything that he did, nor was he the kid that stole your figurines to spite you. He was a man, older and more mature—with a wedding to celebrate the beginning of a new life with his partner.
He looks nervous, you can tell because you know Jimin better than most—a position you begrudgingly gave up in replacement of his wife, Risa—so you offer him a squeeze of his shoulder, and a look to tell him that you were here, and he was okay.
Jimin accepts it with a small smile of gratitude, moving aside so you could take your seat on the VIP table where most of his important guests sat, meaning your parents, Risa's parents, the best man and the maid of honour.
From the moment you stepped foot into the hall, you spot the person that should have been unfamiliar to you, but all you can remember is what was the best years of your life that was taken away from you. It should've been hard to spot him through the pastels and people, but you've always had eyes for him—the foolish lens of a girl that didn't want to grow up.
Even as you seat at the table, mingling with your future sister-in-law, and the maid of honour, along with Risa's parents, you can't bring yourself to acknowledge him just yet, and he has yet to make it known that he acknowledges you too.
Perhaps it was the pettiness from both ends. The fact that neither of you wanted to step down just yet, the last known interaction between the both of you only causing your heart to constrict further. You wonder if he remembers you the way you have with him.
"______," Risa calls your name, leaning in to whisper into your ear as you snap your focus on her.
"Hey, sorry." You mumble, scratching your neck, "Was a little distracted."
Risa offers you an understanding smile and you're grateful to the heaven's above that Jimin managed to make a woman like her fall in love with him. It was a far better alternative and change from the demons he used to go for as a high schooler, and you fondly (but not really) remember fighting off crazy exes when your brother decided that they weren't his long-term.
"Is this about ..." You can tell Risa hesitates to say his name, knowing the matter was still a fresh wound for you even if you had a decade to heal.
You sigh, reaching for her hand to give it a squeeze, mustering a strong front so she wouldn't worry anymore.
"Don't worry about me. It's your special day." You remind her with a soft smile.
She scoffs.
"Not yet. This is to ensure nothing goes to shit and no one gets left at the altar on a real day." She mutters.
You giggle, and even Jimin picks up on his soon-to-be wife's comment and pinches her hip, giving her a glare that lacked any real malice. You observe the way Jimin leans into his fiancee's touch when she reaches for his hand, a gesture so simple but carried the weight of lovers that wholly trusted each other.
Sometimes you envied Jimin. Throughout your adolescent years, you were always pinned against him for reasons that you still cannot justify.
The two of you were fundamentally different in nature. Jimin was a quiet kid, but his actions were the ones that spoke for him instead. For what he couldn't say in words, he made up for through the results of his actions. As a younger sibling, watching Jimin excel in every activity that he sets his mind to make you worship him, wanting to be as talented and ambitious as he was.
If he did kendo, you'd sign up so you could carry on the legacy of his talent. When he ran for class president, so did you in your own grades. Everything was always stemmed around Jimin and what he did.
Even if he was quiet, he naturally took the lead in doing things. Where you were the polar opposite. A louder than life personality should have made you the proactive one, but deep down you were meek, timid and terrified of doing things out of your comfort zone.
It did hit a sore spot for you and Jimin's relationship when he grew up enough to no longer facilitate his baby sister's incessant whines and tugs to join him in his activities. You remember the day clearly when he told you that you were nothing but an extension of him.
When you look back, you can think of it as a fond memory of two teenagers that were horrible at speaking about their feelings, but you remember the hurt you felt; only wanting to be a part of Jimin's life when he wanted to be on his own.
It took a few years to repair the relationship that was fragile, to begin with, and it wasn't just the effort of you or Jimin, but—
"Hyung, do you need to run the video through IT to check if it's playable?"
You're brought back to the present when Jimin's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you instantly know who he's referring to.
The only person that he could comfortably refer to as 'hyung' was the only person that you have yet to greet, or acknowledge.
"I see what you're doing, Park. You're not seeing this video until the 13th."
The rest of the people at the table laugh at the banter between best friend's, but you remain uncharacteristically silent. No one picks up on it—or if they did, they know well enough not to point it out for the sake of maintaining normalcy at the table.
You listen attentively to the briefing run down by Lea, and you smile fondly at the fire that the young wedding planner carried in herself. She was meticulous, and you only had Risa to thank for managing to get the most dedicated wedding planner that you were sure was out there.
Eventually, you had to practice the walk-in from the runway, up until the altar behind where the bride and groom were to be situated. That meant you have shuffled around under Lea's commands, and that you caught more of his appearance than you would have liked.
Of course, he grew up beautifully. He had always been exceptionally good-looking even from when you were in high school up to your early college years. The birth lottery definitely favoured some people, and he was on the top of the list.
But he no longer had the same youthful charm that he did when you last saw him at 23. He looked rougher around the edges, lines on his face that come with time and experience, the stroke of a paintbrush that you weren't there to witness. Age did him well—and you couldn't deny the fact that as he grew, he also grew more attractive. The assuredness that comes with age, and the physique that you can only appreciate from afar.
The suit he's wearing is ever so flattering on his broad shoulders. He followed the theme well, a black blazer, with a deep-maroon sash draped over his shoulders. You applaud the designer that had done the fitting for him because it looked perfect, quite literally like it was made for him.
You feel mediocre immediately. The dress you were wearing was stunning—in the most objective sense—and you had a matching coloured sash that was draped around your hips instead, the corset accentuating your figure. But you were still far from comparison from him. You always have been.
"_____, could you please stand next to Jin?" Lea's voice calls out an order from the front of the altar, waving her notebook at you to step aside.
Your eyes widen as you feel the blood in your face drain, hearing your new position for the photo session.
You don't want to throw anyone off, or make Jimin's special day about you—so you suck it up, take a deep breath and shuffle into position next to Jin.
His presence is overwhelming. It's like he's there but he isn't. He doesn't feel like he's there, probably because of how long the two of you haven't spoken to each other, basically strangers. You don't acknowledge him even when your shoulder accidentally brushes against his arm, and you definitely don't acknowledge him when Lea smiles at the two of you and says perfect.
You see Risa's concerned stare on the two of you, but you give her a tight smile and mouth to her to focus on what Lea's saying instead. She narrows her eyes at you but finally relents when you nod your head to tell her that it was fine.
You were older. You weren't going to let some ... you didn't even know what to call it. But you weren't going to let the past make you feel uncomfortable when the future hasn't been told just yet.
"Jin—could you loosen up a little? It looks like you're constipated and your face isn't going to make up for that on camera," Lea deadpans, shooting a blunt comment straight at Jin.
He flushes beside you, but you don't look at him to know that because you hypothesised that he still has the same habit of his ear's turning red if all attention is on him.
"You and I know my face would've been the highlight of the picture if it weren't for the lovebirds." He quips back.
You can't find it in yourself to laugh yet when others do, but you look down at your feet to pretend like you were distracted.
Even his voice sounds more like himself. He had always been Jin, but it's like he grew out of the mould he forced himself into when you last saw him; a more relaxed yet determined version of the past that no longer exists.
"Jin!" Lea calls out.
"That seems to be your favourite word today ..." Jin mutters, which causes Jimin to snort at his best friend's antics.
Risa slaps your brother on his shoulder and narrows her eyes at him, and it's comical how fast she managed to get him to neutralise his expression.
"For a very good reason," Lea retorts, "Could you hold _____ by the waist? The space between the two of you looks too awkward."
If only she knew.
This was possibly the situation that you wanted to avoid the most, not even acknowledging him yourself, or his name to say hello—but he had to hold you close like you were something to him.
"Shouldn't he be holding the maid of honour—?" You helplessly try to reason, but the words get stuck in your throat when Lea glares at you.
For someone younger than you, and smaller than you in height too—she was terrified when she had to be.
"It's ... fine," Jin says after a beat of silence.
Then, his hand snakes around your waist so snug as he pulls you slightly closer to him that you almost lose your footing.
You gulp, unable to ignore the heat of his grasp or the way that it feels so natural as he rests his palm loosely on your hips, fingers drumming against the bone absentmindedly as Lea directs the photographer with angles that she best believe captures the moment.
When the photographer begins the countdown, you force a smile as genuine as you can, while Jin squeezes your hips as the shutter goes off.
"You two looked comfy." Jimin slides into the seat next to you after the rehearsal, rubbing on his eye with a cotton pad to remove the makeup that was applied on him.
You scowl, swatting his hand away to berate him for causing wrinkles so early on as he huffs at your adamancy.
"Don't ignore me," He pokes your side as you sigh.
"Then don't overthink it, okay? It was for the picture." You grumble, eyes focused on the bits and bobs of makeup tools at the vanity inside the changing rooms.
You can feel Jimin's stare on you, as well as how hard he thinks. Call it a sibling intuition, but you knew exactly when he was overanalysing situations, and you felt that at this exact moment.
"You know you have to speak to him eventually, right?" Jimin says after a while.
You freeze, fingers pausing as you tap against the table. Your eyes meet Jimin's through the mirror and you know he's serious, his expression says it all. But he wasn't there when it happened, and he wasn't you to feel how it felt.
"I went for ten years without talking to him. Another ten won't be hard." You clip.
Jimin sighs, turning his body to face you as you keep your shoulders towards him. It feels very much like when you were younger when Jimin sat you down to lecture you about your behaviour, or reprimanding you for doing certain things to keep you safe.
But it's vastly different. You're twenty-eight now, and you no longer took Jimin's words as the word of God, and he knew that.
"I don't know what exactly what went down between the two of you but according to Jin—"
"And you don't need to. It's been ages, Jimin. I've moved on." You snap.
Jimin purses his lips, seeing the way you're beginning to draw up all your walls against him again. It makes his heart clench because there was a time where you would have told him everything, where you would have confided him when you were having troubles. But he knew he ruined that relationship himself, and even if it's been over a decade since that fight the two of you had, the scar of the experience would always be there to haunt you both.
He knew you didn't hold it against him anymore, but he also recognised the way you'd subtly pull away sometimes, the reason why you never visited as often as you said you would in your infrequent phone calls.
"I'm just ..." He mumbles, looking at you earnestly but you don't return the stare, "I'm worried, ______."
You scoff.
"You don't need to. I won't cause a scene at your wedding, okay? I—I'm not like that ..." You start off strong, but finish in a soft whisper.
Jimin's eyes soften when he reaches a hand to rest against your shoulder.
"That's not what I meant." He sighs.
"Whatever it is that you meant just ... forget it, okay? I'm a grown-up now. I'm not your baby sister anymore." You tell him.
He flinches at the bluntness of your words but knows that you don't mean any harm to them. It was the truth that he had a hard time accepting, especially when he could've been there for you more during the years of university and the beginning of your work-life.
"I ..." Jimin trails off.
You sigh, turning around to finally face him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," You wince, "It's just that ... you don't need to worry about my battles anymore, Jimin. I've learnt how to deal with them on my own and you have your own set of things to worry about. I'll always be your sister, and nothing will change that—but I'm just not the same, impressionable girl I was a decade ago."
Jimin bites his lip as he mulls over your words, a fact hard for him to accept but nevertheless, he must. He always had the tendency to be overprotective and possessive, whether it be of his relationships, activities or belongings—it was an ugly trait that got the best of him from time to time.
He knew deep down, that he played a part in why you and Jin are so sour with each other, and he can't easily get rid of that guilt.
"I know, I know," He exhales, "If that's the case then ..."
You raise an eyebrow, willing him to continue.
"Then?"
"Don't let me be the reason why you can't fight your battles," He tells you softly.
Your expression remains stoic, but you internally agree with what he says. You'd never blame Jimin, and you knew it was irrational to do so—but the ugly feeling of needing someone to blame that wasn't yourself or Jin was dominant in your conscious.
"I promise." You smile at him extending your pinky finger out, and he grins at the old ritual the two of you would do as kids.
"Good." He ruffles your hair, and you glare at him when he messes up your up-do that Isabelle spent a long time on.
"Dude!" You whine, but he snickers at your reaction.
"Ah, can't believe that I'm getting married in a week." He adds as he stares at the ceiling.
You smile to yourself and nod your head in agreement.
"Remember when you told me you were going to marry Hana?" You snort.
He grimaces, the memories of his college self resurfacing at the reminder of his ex-girlfriend's name.
"Thank God you snapped me out of it," He whistles lowly, "She was fucking insane."
You chuckle at that because Jimin sure had a type, and it was the insane girls with daddy issues. Even Risa was a little crazy but she had a good heart to make up for it.
"It seems to be a trend with you." You shrug your shoulders.
He narrows his eyes at you and flicks you on the forehead before he glances down at his watch to curse under his breath.
"Fuck. I have a meeting at the office," He groans.
Your lips tilt upwards at his distraught as you pat him on the shoulder, gesturing him to leave.
"Don't worry. I'll find my way home."
"Are you sure—"
"Yes, Jimin—I'm sure. Now leave before they find a new CEO." You quip teasingly.
He thanks you, and presses a kiss onto your forehead before he scampers off, grabbing at his coat before he's out the door.
Once he's out of the room, you sigh to yourself; suddenly oddly nostalgic at your childhood, up to teenage memories as you and Jimin were speaking about it.
You purse your lips, unable to get Jin out of your head even when you look back to all the fun times you had as a teenager because he's always been there ... until he wasn't.
You wince, remembering the day it happened so clearly.
The smell of burnt something pricks the air and you only have yourself to blame.
You curse when you see clouds of black smoke escaping the small vents of your oven, the shady proof of how horrible you were at baking even if it was for a cause that resonated deeply in your heart.
You were thankful that your mom wasn’t home to witness your blunder because she surely would have yapped your ear off for trusting your clumsy self in the kitchen, let alone baking a recipe that was far out of your skill range.
“Why does it smell like—_____, really?” Jimin’s voice enters your thoughts as he ascends down the stairs of your home to spot you hastily fanning the smoke away with your mittens.
“Can you shut up and help me?” You hiss.
He laughs, loud and clear as he clutches his stomach to control his body.
“Dude—why?” He wheezes.
You chuck one of the mittens at him when he finally enters the kitchen, body moving at its own accord to get the trash bin along with the mitten that you threw at him while he pushes your body aside.
“Jin’s leaving tomorrow so I thought I would make some of his favourite shortbreads …” You mutter.
Jimin gracefully plucks out the burnt batch of shortbread and chucks it into the waste bin as you pout at your efforts being thrown away.
“And you didn’t bother asking for help when you know he gets his shortbread’s from a bakery?” He deadpans.
You roll your eyes and wipe your hands on your apron as you sigh.
“Look—I wasn’t thinking and now I don’t have anything to give him before he leaves!” You pout.
Jimin eyes you suspiciously and raises an eyebrow as he leans against the counter to observe your sullen expression.
“So? It’s not like he’d care.”
You glare at him.
“Well—I care.” You retort.
Jimin is silent for a moment before his eyes widen, his body inching closer to yours as if he found out something that he needed to tell you.
“Do you … do you like Jin?” Jimin gasps.
Your eyes widen, cheeks reddening simultaneously as you quickly shake your head to deny the fact—even though your heart and face betray you.
“W-What?” You squeak, “Of course not! It’s just a nice gesture to send him off.”
Jimin scoffs and narrows his eyes at you accusingly.
“Then why did you go out of your way to bake him something he likes when you know you’re hopeless in the kitchen?”
You roll your eyes, hoping your nonchalance plays off well enough to distract Jimin from the way your handshakes at the prospect of being caught.
“He’s my friend, Jimin. I do nice things for my friends sometimes.”
Jimin looks like he doesn’t believe you, and you wish that for one moment he wouldn’t use his brain to overthink your words or the sibling telepathy he claims to have to unravel your heart’s true intentions.
“He’s my best friend. Aren’t I supposed to be the one doing all of …” He gestures to the mess of the kitchen you left it in, “… this?”
“Well you don’t own him and you definitely don’t pick who Jin’s friends with. So fuck off will you?” You snap.
Jimin narrows his eyes at you.
“He’s five years older than you.” He reminds you slowly.
You sigh, busying yourself with cleaning up the kitchen counter.
“And? You’re two years older than me but you don’t see me condemning our sibling-ship.” You retort.
“That’s not what I meant,” He groans, “He doesn’t need a kid having a crush on him, okay? He’s off to university.”
The way Jimin uses the word ‘kid’ doesn’t sit well with you, as if to tell you that you were inferior to him and Jin because you were younger than him. But you weren’t far off, and heck, you’d argue that you were far more mature than your brother or any of his friends.
“I’m graduating high school this year.” You sneer.
“And Jin is off to university!” He exasperates.
“I don’t know what your problem is because I—don’t—have—a—crush—on—him!” You emphasise with a shove of your finger to his chest with every word.
“You better not because that’ll be weird. I don’t need my sister crushing on my best friend.” He scrunches his nose when he says that.
The drop of your heart is inevitable, but you’ve long decided that you don’t live your life to please Jimin anymore, and what you wanted what was what mattered.
“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off, chucking the last bit of your dishes into the sink before you glance over at the clock.
“Tell mom I’ll be out!” You say, throwing off your apron as you quickly check your appearance when you grab for your car keys.
“Where are you going?” Jimin asks.
You glare at him, slipping on your shoes as quickly as you possibly can before you call out to him, halfway out the door:
“Jin’s!”
“Oh, hey _____.” Jin is surprised when you turn up on his doorstep.
“Hey yourself,” You smile, stepping in after you’ve slipped your shoes off.
“What … what are you doing here?” He asks when the two of you make your way up to his room, after offering a greeting to his parents and brother in the kitchen.
You flop on to the beanbag at the corner of his room and give him a knowing stare.
“You’re leaving tomorrow.” You say.
He nods his head, understanding as he glances around his barren room, most of his belongings packed away in his luggage.
“Are you here to say goodbye?” He teases.
You scoff.
“I suppose.” You shrug, “There was supposed to be shortbread too but …”
He laughs, a sound that you’ve come to adore, even as a young girl you always thought Jin was the funniest person ever. When Jimin would argue that he was funnier, you’d always jump to defend Jin’s ability to make you laugh instead.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” He says to you, plopping down to sit across from you.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving.” You sigh, resting your head against the plushness of the beanbag.
Jin snorts.
“Why does it sound like I’m never coming back?” He jokes.
“Well, for starters, you’re going to be in a completely different time-zone. Two, flight tickets get super expensive during the holiday season’s so I doubt you’d be back. And three—you’d probably make cool university friends keep you company so that you wouldn’t wanna’ come back anyways.”
Jin looks at you, lips twitching upwards as you complain.
“You … you thought that through, huh?”
You roll your eyes, chucking a figurine in his direction.
“Just, promise to call?” You whisper.
He smiles softly at you and nods.
“Course’. I’ll ring Jimin up and we can all talk.”
You blink at his choice of words, afraid he’s misunderstood your point.
“I mean … you can call me …” You mutter.
Jin pauses for a moment, before catching himself and chuckling softly under his breath.
“Wouldn’t that be kind of weird …?”
His choice of words only reminds you of Jimin’s tone when he warned you against your apparent (but very present) crush on Jin.
“Why would it be weird?” You tilt your head to the side.
He snorts at your question and you frown because you don’t understand what aspect of it was funny at all.
“Come on, you’re Jimin’s baby sister. If I called you it would seem predatorial, won’t it? I’m literally five years older than you.”
You don’t think he means to sound condescending, but the tone of his words definitely come across that way. You bite your tongue to not say anything rash just yet, as you take a deep breath before you respond.
“We’re friends … and I turn eighteen in June.” You remind him about your birthday coming in two months.
He shrugs.
“Yes but it’s still weird. It would just seem like we’re together, you know?”
His words make you freeze, eyes widening at his implication.
“Would that be such a bad thing …?” You whisper, and the words leave your mouth before you can think twice.
Jin hears you loud and clear, and his eyes widen. You see his body tense and the way he shifts away from you ever-so-slightly that it makes your heart drop.
“_____ … I don’t …” He tries to navigate the topic, but your eyes are bored straight on his face and it flusters him.
“You’re a kid, _____. I don’t date kids.” He snaps, deciding to opt for a defensive approach.
The demeaning term sets you off as you feel anger bubble through your system in bursts of hotness.
“I’m not a fucking kid!” You snap, and his eyes widen at your tone.
“Woah, calm down—”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” You lash out, “I’m not some dumb or naive child that doesn’t know what’s right or wrong, okay? I’m turning eighteen this year—and I—I thought you were better than this. How could you be so shallow?”
Jin scoffs.
“Shallow? _____,” He deadpans, “You’re just turning eighteen and I’m twenty-three. That’s a whole five-year difference. I don’t think you’re dumb but the thought of dating you right after you turn eighteen is just …” He shudders.
You still.
You didn’t know Jin could hurt you so much with just words, but he did just that. He didn’t need to say much, but you felt every sting that came with his intentions.
“Who said anything about dating?” You ask hoarsely, “I just said to call me.”
Jin softens a little, turning to face you as he sighs.
“_____ … I know you have a crush on me and—”
You’re absolutely mortified when he exposes you out in the open like that, the truth left out for both of you to mull over; but even worse for you as you were the one that was on the plank.
“Why does everyone keep saying that!” You snap, embarrassment crawling up your neck as you avoid his gaze, attempting to deflect.
“—I don’t need you waiting for me when I’m off to university. I’ll be fucking around a lot and you don’t deserve that.”
You gape at him, stunned at his audacity.
“Do you think I’m that pathetic?” You laugh, but there’s no humour in it.
“What? No—”
“Oh, you so do, Kim Seokjin,” You snarl, “Do you think I would wait for you? To live out some stupid fairytale? Yes—I have a crush on you but that’s all there is to it—a fucking crush!” You yell.
His eyes widen, attempting to reach out for you to calm you down, but you shift away.
“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage but just for a fucking phone call. I’m not even asking you to like me back!” You throw your hands into the air.
“But you’re implying it! Why else would I call some girl that I’m only friends with cause' of her brother if I didn’t like her?”
That’s all it takes for silence to overtake the both of you, your mouth stunned shut as your eyes widen at his words.
“What?” You choke.
It’s like Jin is blinded by the need to defend himself, a carnal desire to protect his own heart to make him feel less like a weirdo about the way his best friend’s little sister makes him feel. An odd feeling he never wanted to acknowledge until he acknowledged you.
“I mean exactly what I said, ____,” He spits so vehemently that he doesn’t recognise himself, “All you do is follow us around like some helpless puppy because of what—your crush on me? Get over it because I’ll never like you.”
You freeze, and your heart does too.
“Do you think I willingly talk to you? It’s because of Jimin! You’re his baby sister. What else could I do? Tell you to fuck off?” He snaps.
Your lip trembles but you will yourself not to cry in front of him. Not this boy who thinks of you that way, as someone’s baby sister rather than who you were.
“You don’t need to tell me anything,” You say, oddly calm, but your glassy eyes are what snaps Jin out of it.
“Wait … ____,” He sighs.
“I’ll fuck off myself, all right?” You grit, pushing yourself off the beanbag before you’re storming out of his room.
Jin doesn’t bother chasing after you because he’s mulling over his words, absolutely disgusted with what he said. His parents and brother miss you when you’re out the door crying.
Jimin doesn’t even ask how you were.
“Oh—”
It’s like he’s always there at your most vulnerable moments.
Jin is hovering by the entrance of the changing room awkwardly, his limbs too long for the tight space.
He startles you out of your reminiscent state as you clutch the robe to your chest, acutely aware of the fact that you were in nothing but your bra and underwear underneath it.
You flush, avoiding his eyes, afraid that if you looked at them; all you would remember is what he said to you.
“It’s fine,” You parrot the words he said to you earlier, and quickly pack your belongings, and casual clothes into a bag to make your way out back into your hotel room.
As you brush past him, he stops you with his voice.
“______.”
You freeze, hands still tightly gripping your robe as you feel his eyes rake over your body. You feel both exposed and safe, because once upon a time—Jin was the person that could comfort you the most.
“Yes?” You say in a clipped tone.
You hear him sigh, and you’re about to leave until he interrupts you again.
“How are you?”
You nearly scoff at the mediocre question he poses when the situation between the two of you is anything but. The question seems so out of place when the room is so tense, the ghost of his words here to haunt you both.
“Good.” Is all you respond with before you try to leave.
He grabs you by the elbow, gently, but enough for you to fall against his chest, his arms reaching around to grab you before you fall.
The opening to your robe falls a bit, and his eyes dart away out of respect as you quickly shove it closed with reddened ears.
“What do you want?” You snap.
He winces at your hostility but doesn’t blame you for it.
“I just wanted to catch up with you,” He shrugs.
Now, you scoff. It’s because Jin is still so irrevocably him, that in any other circumstance you’d smile in fondness at his ability to make any situation simple as if there wasn’t history between the two of you.
“Do you now?” You say blandly, “What do you want to know? I’m still Jimin’s baby sister if you were wondering.” You say bitterly.
Jin freezes and sighs when you bring it up; alluding to what he said to you that night years ago.
“Actually … I wanted to apologise,” He confesses.
At that, you still.
Apologise?
Did you need an apology? Wasn’t that what usually fixed conflict?
But no, an apology wasn’t going to fix the years of insecurity that you were left with when he was gone, always nitpicking at your flaws and your identity; wondering if it were really only an extension of your older brother.
Even though you were older, and somewhat more rational—there was still a part of you that wanted to blame Jin for your insecurities, even though you knew that was a war between you and yourself.
“For what? Calling me an extension of my brother or that our friendship was to please Jimin?” You snarl.
He winces and releases the hold he has on your elbow as he rubs his hand across his face.
“I was young and—”
You scoff.
“Young? I thought you were too old back then? Where was this energy ten years ago?”
His eyes narrow at you, and he noticed that you definitely grew a backbone—and a mouth. It was inappropriate still, to think of you any other way right now when he was attempting to apologise to you.
But your beauty was dangerous, and you’ve always been a pretty thing; even when you were growing up. The truth he uttered a decade ago was somewhat the truth still, he felt way too … old to be with you, even if his heart begged for him to keep you close.
“I don’t know why I said the things I did, _____.” He sighs.
You turn around, face contorted with every emotion you’ve been withholding since that fateful night.
“Let me tell you then,” You shove a finger into his chest.
“You’re pathetic,” You spit, hoping to hurt him as much as he’s hurt you.
His eyes widen when you lean in closer.
“You liked me too and you had no fucking clue what to do about it, so you pushed me away the one night I asked for a small favour. You wanted to protect yourself because you’re too in your head thinking that your feelings matter more than anyone else’s, am I right Jin?”
“_______ …”
“Shut up,” You snap.
He does, and he sees the fire in your eyes burn brighter.
“You thought you were the only one that was struggling with their emotions but guesses what—you weren’t,” You whisper, “I was too. And I pushed it aside every moment I spent with you because I knew that it wasn’t my position to decide for you if you liked me or not.”
His hand reaches out to cup your face, something instinctual inside of him told him to do so—wanting to hold you close. To his surprise, you don’t pull away. Your features soften, but you haven’t done your piece just yet.
“But you … you decided for me.” You say softly, “You showed me how much of a piece of shit you were that night.”
Jin’s eyes widen, and the words hurt—but nothing compared to how he felt when you blocked him everywhere, even to go as far to tell Jimin to never mention your name to him.
It sucked for the first two years, but eventually as you went to college and university, you unblocked him. Was it out of spite to let him see how well you were doing? Or the boyfriend that you had?
Maybe.
“_____, I’m sorry.”
Here he was, at thirty-four years old, apologising to you much like a man would—and you can’t help but admire his face when you lean in, heart willing yourself to act rather than your rationale.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” You say.
It seems that you shock him more and more with each second that passes. You weren’t the same girl you were a decade ago, but yet traces of you still lingered in your features, your smile, your voice and your words. It was just you, but older.
“It was for me.” You tell him softly and he nods his head in understanding, cupping your jaw.
“You have no idea how much I regret that night, ______.” He whispers.
You purse your lips.
“What will regret bring you, Jin? A do-over?”
This time he goes silent to observe your face. It’s no longer the same cold stare you’ve been giving him the entire day or the fact that you’ve been ignoring his presence until he found you tucked away in the changing room—a tip-off from Jimin.
“No but … you’re right,” He tells you, “I wanted to protect myself and it was selfish. I can’t change what I said or did but I’m here now and—my heart is still the same.”
“Ten years change people, Jin. I’ve changed and so did you. Maybe you liked the girl I was when I was eighteen but I’m nowhere near in the same mind-space I was back then.” You tell him.
Even though your own heart betrays you by beating rapidly against your chests the closer the holds you, you knew that acting out of your rationale would only end up with you being hurt yet again. You forgave Jin … sure you did. But ten years was far too long to accept the fact he may feel the same.
“I know but I couldn’t forget you, not when I was in university and not when I started working.” He confesses, eyes burning into your own.
You purse your lips and stand your ground. A hand reaches to clasp his, slowly pushing it away from your face as you sigh. You notice the crestfallen expression on his face, but you don’t comment on it.
“I forgave you but that doesn’t mean I forgot what you said to me that night …” You tell him, “I know I was young and that you aren’t responsible for my insecurities but you told me every single thing that I was terrified of.”
His eyes soften but ensuring he kept his distance when you slightly pull away.
“_____—” He sighs.
“No, Jin,” You tell him firmly, “You were the person that mended Jimin and I’s relationship so you knew how much it ruined me to believe that I was nothing but a product of his aspirations. That I had nothing for myself but who my brother was. I struggled so much to find my footing as a teenager and I didn’t even know what I liked and didn’t like it because the lines were so blurred between my own interests and Jimin’s.”
Suddenly, he sees a little glimpse of the girl when you were eighteen peakings through your exterior. You still sounded a little unsure of yourself, words shaking ever so slightly.
“And for the person to tell me that I was more than just Park Jimin’s sister to … to …” You swallow, the words stuck in your throat because as much as forgiving Jin was for him as it was to you, the words still haunt your mind.
“To say that I was just an extension of my brother?” You whisper, “I didn’t know who I was then but I lost who I tried to be when you said that.”
Jin bites his lip, feeling awful. But he knew that he had no right to feel like he was the one that was hurt when his words plagued your mind for years.
“Whatever your feelings are at this moment …” You trail off, clutching your belongings to your chest, ready to leave without another glance, “They’re just your guilt telling you to hold on to something you didn’t get closure with.”
You look over at him once more, a solemn expression on your face.
“This is your closure, Jin.”
You leave without sparing him another glance, and the man stands in the empty changing room feeling a lot different. He thought he’d amended things, but when you leave, it feels as bad as it had been ten years ago.
#bts fic#bts imagine#bts fics#bts imagines#bts jin#bts fluff#bts angst#bts seokjin#bts kim seokjin#Jin x reader#seokjin x reader#kim seokjin x reader#jin fluff#jin angst#jin fic#jin imagine#seokjin fluff#Seokjin angst#seokjin fic#seokjin imagine#kim seokjin fluff#kim seokjin angst#kim seokjin#jin#angst
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Hollow’s eve
Summary: It’s Halloween night and Eri is having a crisis and it's one only you can fix. It wouldn’t be so bad if you and her father still had feelings for each other.
Characters: Shota Aizawa x Reader | Eri
Warnings: None except the angst!
Word Count: 3801
Reblogs, comments and likes appreciated! This was for Halloween but I’m a little late, sorry! Enjoy!
(Hollow’s Eve Pt 2) | (Hollow’s Eve Pt3 NSFW) | (Hollow’s Eve P3 Fluff)
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You replayed the scene in your head a hundred times over the last few days. You had a horrible day, that only seemed to get worse and you took it out on him and he responded in kind, that was how you guys fought, how all your fights worked, you both got a rise out of each other only to aim for destructive blows. When you clashed against each other, neither gave an inch.
The rumors circulating the agency you worked for, all because of Aizawa’s desire to keep your relationship a secret, and usually you understood. Usually it wasn't an issue...but it had turned into that. Turned into one after the continued advances from those you worked with. Like you were some sort of conquest, some trophy or score to put down.
You turned them down gently, but jealousy, envy, and desire turned into something darker. Not everyone was so easy to believe men and women could be just friends. You were an up and coming star in the hero world and it brought adoration, admirers who supported you and others who were quick to say something uglier in how you got to where you were. It wasn't just about your skill, your Intelligence. No others were quick to shade you behind your back. It was how you had learned so quickly that you couldn't trust anyone, not your friends or your colleagues.
It was something that said a lot to your relationship with Aizawa. He wasn't out to get anything from you. You weren't a conquest. At least that had been how you’d thought of it, but after what you had overheard from your fellow heroes, was there a reason he didn't want to tell anyone you were together? Was it not just because he felt it was safer for you? Was there something wrong with you? Was he just trying to control you?
It brought up all your doubts, your darker demons had awakened and you weren’t sure who you could trust to stand beside you. It was that irrational need to shove everyone away before they could hurt you and it was what drove you to fight with him, to break up with him.
The fight that had resulted in an exchange of angry words, hurtful insults and low blows as you both let your insecurities push the fight in a direction neither of you wanted, but you both were too prideful to let it go, to take back what was said. Instead, the harmful words were what separated you both like a field full of landmines.
Your anger is too easy to push you both forward, as you two swallow down the pain inside and hide from the world in your hard shell. Ensuring no one could get close to you again. No one could hurt you if you didn't let them in.
Not anymore. You had made a mistake. One you wouldn't concede to.
That fight didn't stop you from looking down at the name that flashed across the screen of your smartphone. You let it ring and go to voicemail, assuming it was a mistake as you stuffed the phone back in the pocket of your jacket before you moved through the aisles of candy. Last minute candy shopping for the kids at your apartment. You wouldn’t be answering the door, that hadn't been your plan, actually you had been supposed to be tricker treating with Shota and Eri tonight, but after your breakup, you planned to stay in, or maybe you would go to the Halloween party Hizashi and Nemuri planned every year -- yeah right that was not your scene.
You also didn't want to drink your sorrows away either. You knew what you would do to numb the pain that settled so profoundly in your chest; patrolling and hurting the bad guys was the only thing that made it a little better, a little more bearable.
When your phone rang again with his name once more on the screen, you answered it. The phone to your ear, you couldn't even get a word in edgewise, as his rough, low tone filled your ears.
“Did you tell Eri you would do her hair for the party tonight?” He sounded angry, exhausted even. It was directed at you, it was always directed at you.
Your fingers tighten on your phone and you narrow your eyes to the ground. Least you mean mug someone in the store and it ends up circling the internet with some embellished story tomorrow.
“I did, but that was before -”
“Before you broke up with me.”
“Funny you’re so upset about it, but you wouldn't define our - nevermind, it's whatever.” You keep your voice steady and hard, unyielding in the cold intensity you gave him toward the end of your statement. You can’t help but rub at the ache in your chest. The tight ball lodged there, but you push past it, ignoring it just like you always do.
“What does Eri need?” You ask before he can say anything else; his intake of breath before you had cut him off had been stiff and fast. A sign he’d been loading some harsh words for you too.
“For you to do her hair like you promised,” he told you brusquely. As though you were a stranger and not the young woman who had wormed your way into his little family. You’d hadn't hurt just him, no...Eri was devastated by your sudden departure.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” your words come out easy, too easy as you take a breath and hang up before he can say anything, before he can add anything. You don’t want nor need to hear it. You pocket your phone and stare at the assorted bag of large candy in your hand before you head for the register. At least this way once you did Eri’s hair in the style of Kora from Avatar, you’d go back to your dismal apartment to hide from the world for the rest of the night.
It was a great plan and yet it was the coward's plan, not that he would care what you got up to tonight, but in the back of your mind didn’t want him to know you were upset over the choice you made. It may have been a knee jerk reaction, a regret, a horrible way of coping with past trauma was to take it out on those in your present life. You hated the way you handled it, but for too very emotionally damaged people, this was how things usually went. You also weren’t about to be the one to apologize and take it back...he hadn’t even been able to give you a good reason for not wanting to be more than what you were. He couldn’t give you validation to why he was keeping your relationship a secret.
With a forced smile you make small talk with the lady at the register before you can get to the safety of your car for a few blissful moments of alone time as you make your way to the other part of town.
Awkward didn't even begin to cover it. This was the last place you wanted to be after your fight two weeks ago, but you refused to drop your mask, you wouldn’t be weak in front of him, you wouldn’t crawl back to him...you wouldn’t admit you were wrong. That you had made a mistake, that you were sorry. You drive your fingers back through your hair and settle your features as you raise your hand to knock on the door and rap your knuckles against it.
You didn’t have to wait long for the door to open and your breath caught as you saw Aizawa in a puffy wide sleeved shirt that had the sleeves stopping at his elbows and the shirt was open to expose his chest and black tight pants hugged his hips. You caught his heavy scowl as you gave his outfit a scrutinizing glance, hiding the fact that you thought the outfit looked really good on him. You reached out on impulse really to tip the pirates hat up, he was dressed as the Famous Jack Sparrow and you stepped into his personal space, but he didn’t yield to you, he held his ground.
“Eri’s still cuter than you,” you told him as you watched his hands tighten at his side as though he wanted to shove you out the door or drag you closer. Maybe all that had been between you two was just sex, but why did that spark in his eye make dread settle in the pit of your stomach. “Always,” came his quick and easy answer as though it would never be a contest that she would forever outshine him. That sort of devotion shouldn’t have made you almost smile, but it did.
“Not going to Hizashi’s party?” He asked his smirk, almost daring as he took in the simple pair of civilian clothes you wore, a pair of light blue jeans that hugged your waist and off the shoulder hoodie sweater in hunter green, that he personally always loved because it brought out the color of your eyes. He didn’t mean it as maliciously as it sounded, but he’d wanted to know if he needed to try and convince you to go or not.
Hizashi was someone you knew, but he’d been his friend first, so while during the six months you two had been dating secretly, you’d become close with Hizashi and his girlfriend Nemuri. This was just another backwards way of him claiming his friends, at least in your eyes. “No, I had other plans,” you told him tartly, but the tension in your shoulders and the way your gaze had strayed told him the truth and he called you out on it.
“Don’t lie,” he growled as he stepped back letting you further into his home, not at all affected by your close proximity. That hurt, and yet it was exactly what you wanted, what you should want. “Fuck you!” The whispered curse was venomous as you swung your hand wide and jabbed your nail into his chest. “You know I’m not welcome there! So don’t act like me going is a good idea. It’ll be crawling with your friends,” you can’t help but snarl, and where his fingers had grabbed your wrist, it burned. His skin was as hot to the touch as you remember, in all the ways you hate.
He didn’t say anything and really what could he say?
You don’t need the reminders that you’ve got no one to hang out with. Without him, without his friends you’re alone. Something that never used to bother you when you kept your attention on your work and your very independent life. It was only after you started dating and hanging out with his friends that you seemed to realize how lonely you were, how depressed in some ways.
“Where is Eri?” You demand loudly instead as you break his hold and turn toward the stairway before the question had left your lips. You changed the subject, the last thing you wanted was for him to prove your statement right, even if it was true.
“Upstairs,” he told you in that same condescending tone he used when he felt you were being just a little too inept. He always hated when you asked obvious questions to get a rise out of him. He didn't like it because he knew how smart you were, that you didn’t need to put on a show for him. You didn’t have to dumb yourself down for him to fit in, like you had too in the male dominated agency you worked for.
Climbing the stairs you don’t respond and with no quip to toss toward him, no catty remark. It makes the distance between you too seem like so much more than just three steps. He ran his hand down his face and released a quiet breath as though that would release the pent up emotion that was still raging inside. It had been trapped inside him for weeks. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but you had been ignoring his calls and the few angry texts that he’d sent over the last few days. You also thank god had ignored the drunken texts, those were of a far softer nature, windows into how he really felt, that he didn’t want to share least of all now. Now that you had walked out of not just his life, but his daughter's life. He couldn’t forgive you for the hurt you caused her.
He’d been about to make up an excuse that you had been busy, but when the first tears had started, he’d swallowed them down and called you. Had you refused to come over, he’d have resorted to some drastic measures to ensure you showed up. You may hate him, but you didn’t get to take it out on Eri.
“I would have done her hair, without the call, but I wasn’t sure you’d let me in the door.”
Those words as you linger at the top step, your fingers tightening on the railing. It seems to chip away at the tough exterior he’s been trying to keep up around you now that you were back on his life like you were for this short time. He’s been attempting to wipe you out of existence, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to do that. You bring up so many memories for him and you haunt his dreams. His heavy sigh causes you to tense, but as his words come out lacking the edge he’d been using all night, it softens the tension in your shoulders. The need for battle slowly leaves at least for now, as the seconds pass.
“I wouldn't keep you from her,” his admission makes your eyes sting and you take as silent a breath in as you can. You step forward on the landing and swallow around the lump forming. Eri is another casualty to your fight and one of your biggest regrets.
You shouldn’t have gotten close to either of them, you knew that and yet it had happened anyway. Eri had that way of being such a light in the bleakness of your life, her love for life, her acceptance of you and her desire to be around you had been one of the ways she’d become one of your biggest joys. It was also why you weren’t sure you could continue this after today. It was too painful to be here, to be around either of them.
Aizawa had become your one constant, the biggest supporter in your life. You had never been
“It doesn’t matter,” your words come up at that level of detachment you were so good at. It was your disregard for your own wants that drove him up a wall with you. It was true, after tonight none of it would matter. It was the unspoken agreement that this would be your last time here and all you had to do was get through the next thirty minutes and then it could be a clean break.
|~|
You had only just finished braiding the front two strands of Eri’s hair and were adding the blue clips to complete her look, you gave her costume another once over as she sat on the bathroom counter. Usually braiding her hair didn’t take that long, but it had to be perfect and you had felt his eyes on you the entire time.
The judgment from him was heavy. It hadn't always been like this; he used to trust you to be alone with her. It hurt more to know he didn't trust you.
“What do you think?” You ask her with a small smile. As her tiny fingers touched the corner of your mouth, you tried to keep your smile on your face, but it faltered just a bit as you gave your handy work another glance, scrutinizing everything about it. “I love it!” she boasted brightly with a wide smile as she wiggled off the counter and skipped over to Aizawa. She bashfully dragged the toe of her boot against the carpet as she looked up at him. “How do I look?” she asked him looking for his approval and you found yourself hanging on them too as you began to put the various beads you had considered into the box.
He carefully fingered the end of one of the strands, his gaze drifting to you for only a moment before his dark eyes were looking into her own. “It looks great on you,” he told her softly, his finger brushing her upper arm carefully testing the waters, allowing her to make the first move. As she stepped closer and curled her arms around him, only then did he pull her into an embrace. His praise had your shoulders losing the tension in them, you watched the scene through the mirror, feeling hot and cold at the display.
At least I can do something right.
You had just clicked the box shut when Eri’s excited chatter had gotten louder, and you tuned back into what was being said, unable to give them privacy. “Daddy you should have (Y/N) do your hair too!” she exclaimed as she bounced up and down. Her fingers curled along his hand. How long had it taken for her to take his hand without flinching? You knew it had been months. It had been something he’d confided in you when you had gotten comfortable with each other after the first few meet ups for drinks as your schedules allowed, the first time had been thanks to right place and right time thanks to Yu and Nemuri, which had resulted in Hizashi and Shota arriving too.
You two were just friends, friends who were comfortable around each other, who had their own demons and horrible tendencies of hurting each other when things got tough. It was what many would consider a toxic relationship, but it wasn't always like that. You fought the way you both did to protect yourselves. There wasn’t anyone who could handle that hidden ugly side of you so easily. You fought with words and action in some cases, but neither raised a hand to each other, unless it was simply in the bedroom but that was a different sort of stress relief. Very different indeed.
Maybe it was just sex, yet why would you too have dinner and movie nights together, text and talk to each other about your day. It was the definition of what a couple did and yet he didn't want to define your relationship. Didn't want to say to the world that you were dating, that you were together.
“Then we can match! Please, please?!” She asked as her red eyes turned to you. For a moment you dragged your gaze from her to look into the dark eyes that had used to look at you with such an understanding, such love and now, now it was something far worse, that brought a horrible emotion to settle in your chest. You brought up a hand and rubbed at it as you looked away from him forcing the bright smile you gave all your fans, all the interviews, the smile that hid the depths of your pain from the world. It didn’t matter that he would see right through it, that he would know, all that mattered was that Eri didn’t.
“If he wants,” you manage to get the words out with a steadiness that surprises you and at the same time it doesn’t. You can lock down your emotions and shut them off at such a rapid pace it leaves people spinning, struggling to catch up with the drastic shift, for the few who catch it. Not many do, he was one of the few.
The knock at the door gives you a reprieve for a moment, as Shota looks at his phone checking to see who is at the door, before he nodded toward her. “It’s Kota and Miss. Sosaki,” he told her, watching as she rushed for the stairs and toward the front door. The chatter from the two new guests filling the room.
Jealousy slithered inside, as you thought of the older woman downstairs, she was the perfect mother figure, the whole package, her role in the hero world already established she was known as Mandalay a member of the Wild Wild Pussycats. She was literally everything you weren’t. It was no wonder Shota would prefer her over you. You didn’t know that, but this seemed to certainly be the case, it would explain so much.
The silence between you stretched before you heard his heavy sigh, and could hear the exhaustion behind it. “I didn’t expect it to take this long,” he frowned, not realizing exactly how that sounded, how you would take it. It was just another of many misconceptions the two of you had made about each other.
You don’t belong here, not anymore. You probably never had in the first place. Of course it was you who had grown too attached, you were so stupid, so naive.
You left the box on the bathroom counter intending to leave it for Eri. “It’s no problem, consider this a gift for Eri. I’ll see you around Eraser,” his name falls from your lips in another attempt to keep up a professional relationship. To put some distance between you both.
You move past him; his fingers curl along your wrist. For a single stupid moment, you hope for something else, for him to tell you he loves you, that it hasn't changed...that he still loves you. That he wants to fix this.
“I’m sorry.”
Those two words ripped a hole through your chest; so many emotions collide inside. You hold them back, his slackened fingers let you go with the slightest pull. He could have held on; he could have held on tighter. If he really wanted to.
He didn't.
He didn't want you. Not anymore.
“Me too.”
It’s all you can get out and they aren’t a lie. Neither of you have looked at each other, there is no need, there is nothing left to say and you walk down the steps, giving small talk for only a few moments before you can escape to the door. False promises falling from your lips.
He let you walk out that door and out of his life.
#mha fluff#mha reader insert#mha#bnha#aizawa x y/n#aizawa x reader#bnha fluff#mha smut#ajaviary fics#writers on tumblr#mha eri#bnha eri#mha kota
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Chapter 11
WC: 2077
Rated: E
Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort
🧠
The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.
Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.
Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.
"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.
"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."
You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.
You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."
The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.
You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.
The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.
Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.
Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.
His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"
"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.
"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.
Bubble popped.
Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.
Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."
You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."
Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."
He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"
"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.
"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."
Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.
Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.
Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.
"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.
"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."
He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”
As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.
“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.
Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.
“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.
Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.
But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.
You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.
“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”
“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.
You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”
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#the interpretation of dreams#laszlo kreizler x reader#laszlo x reader#laszlo kreizler#the alienist#the alienist angel of darkness#daniel brühl#daniel bruhl#laszlo kreizler fanfic#laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl#scuttle-buttle#tw self harm#tw suicude#tw child abuse
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I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 8 Damian x reader
The school is shut down for a week ironically because of an attack by The Joker and Two-Face, that Robin and his team took down. The teachers sent out a notice with homework attached and told us to stay inside. Nightmare came back somewhere in the morning I couldn't tell the time because I apparently fell asleep along with Boy Wonder before the end of season 1 of The Highlander. I gently placed him down on the couch, gotten dressed, and made some breakfast, I only had eggs so I made some scrambled and put them on a plate for him and me. Nightmare got the last of the bacon. I put a plate over Robins while I ate mine sitting at the small table in the kitchen going over my homework. Sadly I finished my homework before my eggs and they have gone cold. I silently morn my eggs eating the cold carcass. "You stare any harder at that screen and you might break it." I jump, my head shoots upwards and I sigh, but then my eyes drop on my cat. My jaw drops the furball is purring in the arms of a masked stranger who is petting his head. Robin was petting my cat holding him like a baby and the demon is purring. Robin still had his eyes, and limbs not even a bite mark was seen on his skin.
"You traitor, you barely know him." I playful scold the feline, he meows nuzzling his face in Robin's chest.
"Your monster seems friendly."
"Nightmare looks like he's been introduced to catnip."
"Just a few scratches here and there." He smirks taking a seat next to me."Thank you for breakfast."
"Mhm." I turn back to the screen, "Will you be going back today Robin?"
"I might."
"Hmm." I finish the last problem for today closing the device, "Well I have to go to work, your welcome to stay if you want." I smooth out my clothes tossing one last look at the melting ball of fur. I quirk an eyebrow but move out to the door. I stop Halfway through the doorway and look back putting on my meanest face. "If you break a single window in my home I will find where ever you are and break you. Bye Nightmare, love you, I'll be back in a few hours."
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"Nightmare! I'm back!" my keys skitter across the floor but no black fur is seen. He's still in the arms of Robin though it's not Robin, Green eyes. My stomach sinks and my mouth goes dry. "Damian?" His is just as much shock as me, he puts down Nightmare and rushes to me the door slams behind me. And I'm being dragged then forced to sit, his hands grip my shoulders. "Your early, why did you arrive early, you not supposed to be back for another half hour." I hardly heard him, I scold myself now realizing the obvious. Why else would Nightmare feel comfortable around him he had been here before multiple times noticed how I treated Damian and that's why he was a purring mess in his arms. I said be nice to him when he was over not Robin, but of course, they smell the same Nightmare associated with both people. I should have spotted it sooner, the voice, the height, the tone of his speech. Dear God, I can mom telling how oblivious, like she did when she won Clue. It was right there, he asked the right question and baited me for answers. I don't know why this is a shock to me. Now that I think of it I have to stop myself from laughing
"What the hell," my voice quivers. "Damian, Damian Wayne. You help Gotham." I start snickering, pulling my hand over my face. I throw my head back laughing then fall over to the side. "Nightmare you knew didn't you! Haha, that's why you were you were melting like butter."
"Your laughing!"
"Did you assume I wouldn't!" I wheeze, my breath nearly coming out to form words. "I can imagine you fighting, but saving people that's something else entirely."
"Do you think so little of me?" He sounds disappointed.
"I don't mean it to offend you but what else can I say. I didn't expect this." I sit up, clearing my throat and looking him dead in the eye. "Can I just call you Damian now, or do I still have to you different names."
"Why aren't you more surprised?"I Smile sadly.
"I thought you would have read up on me, do you know who killed my parents that day at home." He stiffens, he opens his mouth but continues. "My Father's sister, my aunt, killed them both during dinner. All because my mother wouldn't let her see those journals you asked about. After that it many people took off their masks."
"That's all it took?"
"What should it take, she killed her own brother because she didn't get confidential knowledge. To be honest, I don't really care anymore."
"You need professional help." I shrug.
"Probably, but getting sessions is expensive and I don't enjoy answering "and how are you feeling?" questions. I had enough of that already from everyone else."
"Where's your brother, Emil?" I feel myself frown.
"He's with someone I trust, I can't tell you who, sorry."
"The file says you died, you also made a miraculous recovery, recovery from what?"
"I prefer not to answer that question, It's rather personal." I don't want to explain that either, I know the doctor was shocked to see me come back. They had to call the professor to have him take me and my brother. After that this entire fiasco.
"You know I'll find out either way."
"Listen, I don't know how I made it, I was tortured by my she who will not be named and left for dead. I prayed for anyone and everyone who would hear me, someone did, the police found me and I was rushed to the hospital. I decided to take a nap, and I woke up to the sound of Emil crying. He cried, even more, when I woke up, screaming even, the good doctor nearly fainted. I was plugged into wires of all sorts, and my uncle was holding a plug, I assume he pulled, tackled me. My body lit up in pain and felt like I was run over, the next I am separated from my family and rushed into a place where they check on me every three months. At least I got to choose the place, they pay for the school, and I cover everything else." I give in, it feels nice to tell someone, something even if it's not the whole truth. But it seems to shut him up. "Please don't go looking for Emil, they haven't caught my aunt yet. I don't know if she's looking for them next, I would prefer not to stand over another grave knowing she got them too." I stare at him gauging his reaction, his face is still stone, unmoving in the uncomfortable silence. I pick up Nightmare, who has been rubbing against my leg for a bit, and scratch his head as he wants.
"Fine, I won't push further but I have terms."
"Really?" What would he need terms for?
"1, you don't reveal my identity to anyone. 2, you will not acknowledge that you know my family’s identities. 3, I come whenever I like as Robin or as Damian. 4, I add terms whenever I please."
"Why would I agree to any of that? I'm the one who has your identity." He smiles.
"Because I will tell Batman this information, and he doesn't talk as kindly to people hiding something. You obviously still are, but for now, I'll let it slide I'm sure by now you've decided to watch the news, so you know what he does." I gulp, I did see his more recent victim and he looked traumatized.
"Alright fine, but I binge so if you fall asleep tough luck, I'm not going back."
"Fine," he reaches back and pulls out his mask which he puts back on, walking out to the kitchen. "I back in a bit, pull out your couch bed while I'm gone. I will be staying here a while." I get up after him.
"Hey, that offer is for when I thought you were some homeless bums who fights crime, gets money from villain's wallets. You have a perfectly good bed at home!" He turns back one foot on the railing and a grappling hook in hand. "Term 6, I will stay as long as I like." he jumps off like before, not giving me a chance to speak.
"Bastard! I need my alone time!" He's gone I don't even know if he heard me. I grumble pulling out the spare sheets and blankets to set up the bed. "He better be paying rent, smug rich kid."
"Meow." Nightmare looks over at the window Robin left of.
"Yes, he's coming back."
"Meow"
"No, I'm not going tell him, not until I have to."
"Merrow"
"Shut up." I kick the side of the couch holding the two large cushions that lay on it, the bed springs out and makes a satisfying thud on the floor. "Go and see if the data has finished downloading, then put it back in the box I'll make you something in a how you feel about tuna our downstairs grandparents gave me a can."
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The sheets are made, the cat is fed and now I am going over how I was going to cover for another person. How much would he eat, can he survive on pastries, ramen, and eggs. How long was he staying, would his family come asking about him seeing as he was here before. At both times, when he broke my window, and when they came for coffee.
"Hey, open the door." The voice is cold but still recognizable. I get up slowly taking my time getting there along with opening the door. He hurries in, dressed in some normal-ish clothes that still look expensive, but he still dressed like he came out of a photo shoot. He not only has a suitcase but some grocery bags, I frown at those. He seems to notice because he forgets his suitcase and charges into the kitchen. "Hey!"
"Y/N I am not eating ramen and eggs for god knows how long. I will cook a decent meal and you will have something healthy."
"How did you know I only had eggs and ramen?"
"I went through your fridge," He places a bag of tomatoes in the bottom drawer where I see green onions and various other veggies.
"I make stir-fry once a month, you have bought enough greens and reds to make that for two weeks. I don't even have rice."
"You don't like it when people spend money on you, do you?"
"I don't need other people's money," He opens his mouth, but I stop him raising a finger cutting him off. "And before you mention Molly, she remains the exception. Not that me telling her not to stops her."
"And why is that." He stops putting the food in the fridge.
"Because I've been friends with her longer," I look back at his bags and frown. "How long do you plan on staying again."
"For as long as I please."
"Won't they come looking for you? Your family I mean, the Detective stops by almost every day."
"Grayson won't be a problem, I left them a trail that leads to several other places." He stuffs the last of the food in the fridge, getting up and looking out the balcony window. "Should take a long while." I can hear the smugness in his voice.
"Your happy you tricked your brothers aren't you." He turns around forcing himself to frown but the corners of his lips twitch.
"Ho, you're a bastard Wayne."
"You're really gonna curse me?"
"You didn't tell me I couldn't Damian." I grab my computer and open Hulu putting on Star Trek; Next-generation where I left off. "Hope you enjoy space adventure, because I'm not starting this over its seven seasons and 4 movies. I'm halfway through season 3, if you want context just ask." I glance up signaling that I am waiting for a response, he leans on the wall in front of my kitchen. I can't read his face, but his face of neutral displeasure wasn't much better. "So, your done feeling good about yourself, or is there something else you need."
"It's been something I've been wondering for a while now, those iridescent pieces you fed me."
"Part of my mother's work." Not a complete lie,
"Was that what those missing journals about?"
"No." More of a lie but not wrong. He groans anyway, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Man, you really like to cut in deep and waste time. Just come here and watch some Star Trek with me I need someone else to groan in pain about Counselor Troy's and Will Riker's on and off slow burn romance." Begrudgingly he walks over plopping down next to me.
"Your tastes in tv are odd."
"You have no idea, my tastes in something go everywhere, after this and Highlander I have several old cartoons next. First, I might have to gather what you know about the Quack pack, Goof troop, Ducktales, and all that pizazz. Though I have a feeling that you would like Darkwing Duck more, or it could possibly be too relatable." He gives me a look.
"How could I relate to a duck?"
"We are a long way from that now, at the moment we must bear witness to Captain Picard and his adventures commanding the USS Enterprise."
"Has anyone told you how unbelievably weird you are?"
"Sir, you have entered my life for what looks to be the long run. You will experience the kind of weirdness only Molly has ever seen. But now that you are basically my roommate you might see more." I pat his shoulder. "So, buckle up, because this is now you've got a seat on this roller-coaster, and you can't get off till the car reaches a complete stop. Now can we please get back to the show I want to see some cosmic action?"
_____________________________________________________________
"Was that a statement or a question?"
"He can achieve the perception of feeling with a chip that goes into his hyper-advanced brain, lets his brother take it but can't make his own."
"I lent you my computer to catch up to where I left off for one night and that's what you're hung upon."
"Yes," his eyes look serious while he shoves some oatmeal in his mouth. "You are the one who can't stand the slow burn."
"Touche."
Before we got to the last season, Damian had asked he could see the rest of the show before the finally. I didn't expect that he would binge because it was a weekend, he even made extensive notes on character weakness. He still went out on patrol every night but came back with no one tailing him. That's what he says at least. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes and just lacking energy altogether.
"While I'm at work please go to sleep, you look like you fought an energy vampire and lost."
"I wouldn’t have lost to a vampire, they’re not that hard to kill.”
“But they drink blood they need to get close; energy vampires are more psychic they don’t even have to be a real monster.” He stops eating/
“How so?”
“They could be emotionally, physically, and mentally draining people. You know like Deity Skimmer, the girl in our science class. You can’t kill the energy-sucking vibes she gives off, can you.” He snorts behind his hand.” I mean it, even creatures of the night need sleep.” I drop my dishes off in the sink. I walk off to the door putting on my boots, I hear the chair slide and I feel his judging eyes digging holes in the back of my skull.
“Once again your conditions said nothing about teasing you, suck it up.” He scoffs. “I’ll be back around 5, don’t break any more windows while I’m gone.” I close the door before I hear any remarks once more about the incident. Though I laugh to myself, I straighten out my outfit and head down to the wonderful smells of the coffee shop. I walk slowly down the stairs looking out to the crowd that had been seated in the lounge. My managers were out by the couches talking to one of the regulars. Pull me behind the counter and relieve my coworker Meg, she looks exhausted and excuses herself. She takes what I assume is her coffee and puts away her apron and rushes out the door. I finish out what she didn’t clean and wait for anyone to come up to the counter. *Ring* though it is loud I hear the bell for the door ring.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment, I need to clean the nozzle here.”
“That’s fine, I can wait.” I flinch but catch myself, so it looks like I flicked something. I turn around with the best smile I can pull off. The sleep-deprived brother of Damian, peers at me from under his hair a frown tugging on his face.
“Oh hey! You came here with detective Grayson last time. Is there anything you would like?”
“Coffee.”
“Any particular kind?”
“Anything that will keep me from sleeping on this counter.” He knocks on the surface twice.
“I Can recommend our D&D potion bottle, it’s a personal favorite of the owners.”
“Why not, how much?” He fumbles around for his pockets, I stop him.
“How about, I make get it for you, and then you pay.” He brings his hands back on the counter and nods.
“I will only be a few minutes, please make yourself comfortable.” I pull out the ingredients for our powerful concoction, the pho fried ice cream, a large potion bottle with a straw, and 20-sided dice. I place the potion bottle in front of him and the ice cream but hand him the dice. He stares at the shiny plastic unmoving.
“I would roll that.” He does what I say and lands on a nine. “Well, sir after this one you can either have another potion or chose two desserts of any kind from our display or menu.” He takes a sip from the straw rather slow; his eyes perk up a bit.
“How Much did you say this was?”
“Oh! That will be $9.23?” He pulls out the exact amount, and I put it away in the register, placing it in the compartment marked D&D.
“And I would like another one of these to go.”
“Sure, would you like it now or before you go?”
“Well now should be nice, I’m leaving in just a bit.” I pull out a cup that is relatively the same size as the potion bottle. I go to give him his cup and notice that he finished the bottle and ice cream. Confusion hits me, but I don’t stare too long to turn to clean the mess. “Have you seen Damian at all?” And there it was.
“No, not since the Gala? Did something happen?”
“There was a…disagreement so he ran out, but if you see him,” He handed me a piece of paper with a string of numbers and an email. “Tell me. That is my number and email.” He does not say anymore and walks out the door, the bell signaling his departure.
_____________________________________________________________
When I got back, I told Damian what happened, he isn’t pleased and is currently pacing the floor.
“My guess is that he knows.” I sigh over my tea and stare sadly at the replaced window.
“No doubt.”
“You know I was rather hoping not to be having another visit from the Batman. What will happen when they find out that I know about the caped crusader thing.”
“He’ll either force into secrecy, turn you into a child crusader, or confine you to the manor.”
“So in other words no privacy.”
“None.”
“As lovely as that would be you told me this was temporary, so why can’t you go back?”
“At the Gala I was supposed to keep you entertained at the table so that we could trap you into to talking about those journals.” I knew it.
“So, you lied to me.” I look at him, faking shock and betrayal.
“It was for the sake of the investigation; I didn’t think that I would end up-.” He examines my expression and face palms. “What’s wrong with you.”
“I like to call it “I laugh in the face of danger” Syndrome, in a moment of despair I crave comedy.”
“You're worse than Grayson.”
“I like him, so I’ll let this one slide.” I sip the warm liquid feeling soothed at the pumpkin spice. “What are you going to do now?” Nightmare jumps on the table noticing my concern and waiting for his answer from me. He walks to the corner where he put his bag then went to the closet pulling out my suitcase. He then grabs his outfit Robin outfit from the coat rack and his other materials. “Get packed, we’re leaving. I’ll grab Nightmare’s things gab whatever you need. And I mean need, don’t pick it up unless it’s necessary.”
“What? I can’t just leave, what about my job? School?!” He Pulls out my backpack and puts some food in it. “Damian!”
“Just trust me, I’ll take care of it! I don’t want you tangled up in my family’s nonsense.” He looks at me something odd swirling in his eyes. “Please.”
“Fine,” I grab my suitcase and pack my box and my compiece which hasn’t gotten back to me on its progress. I throw a few sets of clothes. I open the box to make sure the journals, the scales, and everything else, then I hide it under the clothing and my laptop in the front pocket. I thank myself for making sure to get a suitcase that has a double use as a backpack. In the living room, Damian is all packed the bag is strapped across his chest and he’s holding Nightmare.
“Let’s go.” He hands me Nightmare and pulls me to the balcony. He pulls out and belts with a ring pultruded out on one side swiftly put it around me connecting the loop to his belt. “Hold on tight, and don’t let go till I tell you.” I Sling an arm around him and grip on to Nightmare, he doesn’t hesitate and shoots across the balcony with his grappling gun. I screw my eyes shut. And wait to stop, my heart beats wildly in my chest Nightmare begins purring maybe in hopes to soothe me. I feel something wrong, but it would mean I was away from the Crows. I’m running again, even if it’s not me who chose this it still feels wrong. Because in the direction he’s going it seems that we were leaving Gotham. And for some reason, I feel like it would be a while before I returned.
#wayne#scifi#damian#bruce#bats#fanfiction#xreader#characterxreader#jason todd#tim drake#character x reader#mxf#fxm#batboys#batboys x reader#Damianxreader#X reader#DC#Marvel#MarvelxReader#DCxreader#batfam#mutants#Damian Wayne x reader
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here's my playlist for Alastair too
it overlaps with Artie's (check it out!) to some extent so I'm not gonna talk about the lyrics/songs they included
(some lyrics that are particularly Alastair™ below the cut)
I'll be good - My past has tasted bitter for years now// so I weild an iron fist// grace is just weakness// or so I've been told// i've been cold, I've been merciless
another love - and I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright// i'm just so tired to share my nights// i wanna cry and I wanna love// but all my tears have been used up
demons - when your dreams all fail and the ones we hail// are the worst of all, and the blood's run stale// I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you// When you feel my heat, look into my eyes// it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide// don't get too close; it's dark inside
you don't even know me - I walk into a crowded room// everybody staring// what did I, what did I do wrong?// (...) oh, you see what you wanna see// but you don't even know me// (...) You don't know a thing at all// you don't know about the way I am when I am all alone// You don't know about the way I love so deeply to my bones
flares - did you find it hard to breathe?// did you cry so much that you could barely see?// you're in the darkness all alone// nd no one cares, there's no one there (...) did you break but never mend?// did it hurt so much you thought it was the end?// lose your heart but don't know when // and no one cares, there's no one there
requiem - Why should I play this game of pretend?// remembering through a secondhand sorrow? (...) Why should I play the grieving girl and lie// aying that I miss you// and that my world has gone dark without your light?// I will sing no requiem tonight
the village - feel the rumors follow you// from Monday all the way to Friday dinner (...) There's something wrong in the village// in the village, oh// they stare in the village// in the village, oh
heirloom - You try your hardest to leave the past alone// this crooked posture is all you've ever known (...) A million choices, though little on their own become the heirloom of the heaviness you've known // you are so much more than your father's son
broken - that you don't have to hurt, you don't have to hurt anymore?// you are broken on the floor// and you're crying, crying// he has done this all before// but you're lying, lying (...) will you leave or will you carry on? // is your love from before still strong?
in dreams - oh it's a big old place for me, yeah it's a big old world indeed// eeryone is killing me and everything conspires (...) Oh in dreams I have lain in sin// just to be the cracked and the cared for// how can I ask, ask for more?
bird set free - clipped wings, I was a broken thing// had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing (...) But there's a scream inside that we all try to hide// we hold on so tight, we cannot deny// eats us alive, oh it eats us alive, oh (...) I'll shout it out like a bird set free
fix it to break it - I've been pulling you close, but pushing me further/ i've been holding it back, that I see you different// sick of me remindin' you to love me like you say you do (...) and I've been hurting myself to keep you from leaving// i've been wonderin' whether we'll last the season// wish we could've made this work// but now I know that I need more// I wish that I was a priority
i didn't plan it - go ahead// throw your rocks at me// from your little glass house// and then take off running// you're no better than me (...) I didn't plan it// but the light turned red, and I ran it// and I'm still standing
she used to be mine - It's not simple to say// most days I don't recognize me (...) She's imperfect but she tries// she is good but she lies// she is hard on herself// she is broken and won't ask for help (...) Who be reckless just enough// who can hurt but// who learns how to toughen up when she's bruised// and gets used by a man who can't love
feel something - Need to know that this love is real// just make me feel something// Start to feel desperate when I’m with you// leaving’s the last thing I wanna do
how it all works out - Goodbye always starts with hello// that's why I don't trust anyone that walks through the door (...) Hello always ends with goodbye// how would I know this time's not different if I don't even try?// yeah, make believe is fun sometimes// so i'll just keep pretending this will end on a good note// but it's not a good note, it's never a good note// but I'll keep my eyes closed
survivor - You thought I couldn't last without you// but I'm lastin'// you thought that I would die without you// but I'm livin'// I'm a survivor// im not gon' give up
boyfriend -young heart, oh what a waste// especially for such a pretty face, now// I don't wanna be your boyfriend// when you need a little company// i don't wanna be your boyfriend, no// when there's not another phone to ring
guilty - Oh I'm a guilty one// and know what I have done// yeah, I'm a troubled one// and I won't be forgiven// I was just a kid// that you could not forgive// because it's harder
weight of the world - my mind's such a mess// I can't handle it// i'm at the end of my rope// i'm so sick of this (...) I don't like, like myself very much// despite all your kind words (...) these thoughts won't rest// ican't forgive// I overthink until I'm sick
human - I can hold my breath// I can bite my tongue// i can stay awake for days// if that's what you want// be your number one (...) And I crash and I break down/// your words in my head, knives in my heart// you build me up and then I fall apart// 'cause I'm only human
#the last hours#tlh#alastair carstairs#chain of iron#chain of gold#the shadowhunter chronicles#shadowhunters#charles (derogatory)#spotify#ana's playlist
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I Hope Hopeless Changes Over Time: A Red Hood and Batman Fic
*Source of the image I found off of Pintrest. I tried to find the original artist but the link on Pintrest led to a dead Tumblr account. If anyone wants to find/point out the account to me so I can give proper credit to the artist please please do.*
I wanted to make a fic based on an ask I did from the lovely @dilfbatman about Jason and Bruce. I hope people enjoy this mini-fic that I've expanded upon.
TW: Blood, Physical Assault, Suicide Ideation, Swearing. Bruce being a shitty father but trying. Jason having demons
3.75K words.
Bruce was uneasy about Jason staying over at the Wayne Mansion. Even with other members of the family around. Jason has done so much wrong and has hurt so many people. However, at the end of the day, Jason still is his son. So when he gets a call from Jason in a hushed voice asking Bruce to stay the night. He hesitated for a second, but acquiesced, Jason was nothing if not independent, so to be asking Bruce outright to stay at the Wayne Manor meant something was wrong.
"Master Jason wouldn't reach out to any of us unless something was gravely wrong, Master Wayne." Alfred had reassured Bruce, who was staring absentmindedly at the glass case which housed Jason's old Robin costume. The costume that Jason had died in. Bruce always tried to repress the memory of holding his son's cold, lifeless body. The pain he felt from losing his parents burned in his heart as an everlasting stab wound. But the pain from losing Jason, his son, it was too much to bare.
"I'd be welcoming to Master Jason, but keep your distance. Master Damian is spending the night at Jon Kent's house, Master Richard is in Blüdhaven, and Master Timothy is with the Teen Titans tonight. I'll rest assured Jason doesn't try anything to harm you. But don't try to encourage a confrontation." Alfred explained. He always seemed to understand Jason to a tee after he came back to life.
"I don't know how you do it Alfred, you can read the boy like a book." Bruce had retorted. Cocking a half-smile to the man who raised him since his parents died.
"Master Wayne, Master Jason wears his heart on his sleeve. He always has. And one of the reasons why you two fight constantly is because, for as terrific as a detective you are, you are horrifically inept in reading the emotions of your children." Alfred had stated, those words bit Bruce. He wasn't expecting such sharp words from Alfred. "We failed Master Jason. And he's hurt, he's been hurt for years because of it. However he keeps choosing to come back and try and trust again. We needn't come at him with accusations of ulterior motives, but we should be supportive." Alfred stated.
"But cognizant of what Jason is capable of." Bruce added back. Jason may need help, but he's still dangerous. He has tried to kill Bruce and the rest of the Robins multiple times. He wants to trust Jason and warm up to him again. But the man who wears the Red Hood and stalks the streets of Gotham killing those he deems criminals is not his son anymore.
Alfred and Bruce greeted Jason as he walked in the large double doors of the Wayne Manor. The first thing Bruce noticed was the dark circles under Jason's eyes. It seemed as if the man hadn't slept in days. Jason was wearing sweatpants and a fitted black wife beater, accentuating his muscles. Jason would have looked more intimidating had his body language not suggested he was as disheveled as he was, physically and mentally.
"Thanks Alfred." Jason had said meekly towards the butler. He took one step into the mansion and looked at Bruce. Bruce noticed as soon as Jason's eyes met his, his tired irises contorted into anger. His lips pursed downwards but Jason chose not to say anything. Instead just walking past Bruce pretending not to acknowledge him.
"Master Jason, you will be staying in the guest suite on the main floor. I've already prepped everything for your arrival. Please make yourself at home." Alfred had said. Jason just shook is head as he headed towards the hallway leading the guest suite. Bruce didn't notice it immediately but the stench Jason had emitted stung in the air. It smelled like stale liqour and body oder. It seems Jason hadn't bathed in days. Bruce had wanted to say something but chose not to.
The evening went by quietly enough. Jason had taken a shower and changed into another fitted wife beater but still sported a tired energy about him. Alfred had put together a beef pot roast for dinner with red potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery over garlic mashed potatoes. A favorite dish of Jason's. The three of them ate quietly as Bruce continued to size up his son. He was conflicted. At one point he saw the man who blew up the head of a Gotham security force member with a torture decide he had created. On the other hand, he saw the boy who would beg for Bruce to buy him more books after he finished the maximum amount a library card would allow for a week in the span of 3 days. The son who told him being Robin gave him magic.
The dinner ended as it began. With awkward silence and the father-son duo eyeing each other. One with cautious trepidation and the other with abject hate. Bruce had decided not to go on patrol tonight as he felt he needed to be at the manor should anything happen while Jason was here. An uneasy sense of dread built over Bruce as he had said good night to Jason as the two passed by each other in the halls. Jason simply spat 'Bitch' at Bruce and walked into the bedroom. Bruce had been bad with other people's emotions, but something didn't sit right with the way Jason was carrying himself. He had decided to stay up tonight regardless. A sense came over him after being sworn at by Jason. A sense he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt as though his son needed help.
————————————————————
"You're a monster"
"Jason is a murderer"
"Stay away from Jason, he'll kill you."
"No one wants you around, Todd"
"You're just a good guy trying to be bad"
"This is the kid you had to replace me with as Robin? Bruce he's pathetic."
"I can't believe my daughter wasted the Lazarus Pit on a miserable failure like you."
"Maybe I'd be better off dead"
Jason tossed and turned. It's been days. He couldn't get the voices out of his head. Those whispery, moany voices that taunted and tormented him. He knew it was a result of the Lazarus Pit. Ever since Roy died and everyone left him the voices started taunting him again. He tried everything he could to get the voices to stop. He drank, he read, he worked out, he did everything he could. The only way the voices became quiet were when he was beating the ever-loving shit out of some criminals. This was not the mindset Jason had wanted. He wanted to go back to being supported by Bruce, the man who betrayed him. He knew that Bruce was weak. He couldn’t kill the Joker because of his weakness.
Jason got up and walked over to the connecting bathroom to the suite that he was staying in. He went to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Against his better judgement, Jason looked up to the figure he saw in the mirror. He took note of his jawline, his face, his green eyes, his muscles.. but one thing that caught his eye was the fucking skunk streak of hair at the top of his head. The physical reminder of his dip in the Lazarus Pit. He had just re-dyed the spot not two days ago and it already came back. He did everything he could to try to hide the streak. It’s what he hated most about his new body. The pit wiped away all of the scars he had on his body. And any new fresh scar or wound would just fade in a matter of moments due to the effects of the pit. The only thing that ever stayed was that damned streak.
Jason had nothing but disgust and contempt for the man he saw in the mirror, which, ironically, was himself.
“You’re just using the sarcasm to hide your hatred.”
“It’s your fault that everyone hates you.”
“Killing the sick of the masses to save those who are weak is your calling”
“Those reptiles deserve to die”
“I don’t want to kill unless I don’t have to.. I don’t want people to hate me..” Jason tried reassuring himself. The voices in his head kept getting louder and louder. “I want Bruce and everyone to love me again....” He continued to try to re-assure himself. It was a false sense of hope as always. His mind soon wandered to a moment where he was on top of Dick in a fight. Confronting his older sibling and reciting a quote he had heard from a Japanese philosopher and optimist as he had the barrel of a gun placed against his older brother’s temple.
“Do you know what the most convenient phrase in the world is, Dickie? It’s ‘I’m sorry.’ Anyone who hears that is obligated to forgive, no matter how hurt or angry they might be... There's no more disgusting phrase in all the world. It's used to displace your suffering unto others so you can escape your sins... The moment you employ it, your suffering becomes the other person's. A thing can be unforgivable, but oh, if they apologize... I say there's no reason to accept that suffering. You don't have to forgive them. Cast aside the mask of your conscience.“
“Stop this. Please stop this.” Jason had begged aimlessly into the air. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He didn’t want to live, period. He just wanted all of this to end. He had caused so much pain and so much suffering to the people of Gotham all so he could attempt to hurt Bruce. But those words kept repeating in his head. He knew he had to stop this. He needed help, he wanted to go to Bruce and explain what was going on but Bruce would just have him institutionalized. His murderer of a son starts hearing voices in his head? A one way ticket to a padded room.
Jason suddenly stared back into the mirror and saw something he detested. The green eyes that stared into his soul. The one he hated more than anything else. Was himself. This thing was staring him in the face mocking him, and he wanted it gone.
“Do it Jason.” the voice had beckoned from the mirror. “Kill them all. Slit Damian’s throat and watch the fucker bleed. Bash Tim’s stupid face into the concrete until there’s nothing but mush. Rip Dick limb from fucking limb. Watch Bruce as you choke the last bit of life from his eyes. I promise all the pain will go away once all of this is done.” the voice sounded almost sweet as it promised to do all of this. Jason just retched as he saw the green eyed monster promising poison to him. He felt his vision fade to black.
------------------------------------------------------------------
STOP IT. SHUT. UP.
*CRASH*
Bruce had jumped up from the chair he was sitting on in the library, the voice came from the suite that Jason was staying in. Bruce didn’t have time to think. He just ran towards the noise. He threw the door to the suite open and ran to the bathroom. There he saw Jason in front of a heavily cracked mirror. Jason was hyperventilating and he saw blood oozing from Jason’s fist which was pressed against the mirror. Bruce saw from the reflection that Jason had split open the left side of his lip seemingly from a shard of glass. It wasn’t long before Jason glanced up at the imposing shadow in the mirror and noticed Bruce’s presence.
“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME BRUCE.” Jason had shouted at his reflection. Jason was shaking. Bruce had wanted to assess the injury that Jason gave himself. But he knew he was cornering a scared animal if he pressed any farther forward. Bruce stood their frozen. Pondering between trying to press forward upon a killer, or to check up on his son.
“Jason, I just...” Bruce was cut off by another scream as Jason turned around.
“IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU FUCKING STAND YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” Bruce finally got the cue. The hitch in Jason’s voice. This is the same hitch his voice made when he was a kid and was angry at Bruce. Alfred was right. This is his son. And right now Bruce needed not to be the Batman approaching the Red Hood. He needed to be Bruce, to help his son.
Bruce walked forward to Jason, still shaking as blood oozed from the gashes of glass on his fist. Bruce decided against everything in his gut telling him to stop this criminal. This monster who killed for sport and to prove a point. He needed to help Jason, his son.
Bruce was knocked back by a fist to his chest. Glass imbedded itself into Bruce as he felt the sting of their shards. Jason was right, he was going to hurt Bruce if he approached. Oracle was right, Jason had been abusing venom. The quick gain in muscle mass was proof enough but the stinging pain in Bruce’s chest also proved that hypothesis. Jason barred his teeth as his eyes displayed a seething hatred. Bruce would have been frightened on any other day. Today, Bruce felt a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. Bruce collected himself and got up to approach Jason again.
“I TOLD YOU I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BRUCE. I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS. I WANT YOU TO DIE. I WANT ALL OF US TO JUST FUCKING DIE.” Jason screamed even louder this time. A hot stream of tears worked their way down Jason’s cheeks. Bruce no longer saw a rage-induced monster but the boy who took a tire iron to his gut on the streets of Gotham. The boy who would was thrilled at every opportunity he got to show Bruce the A’s on every test he got in school. This was his baby boy who needed his help.
“Jason Peter Todd that’s enough.” Bruce said firmly, but not harshly. Jason stared directly into his eyes. “Jason. I want you to listen to me.”
“Go to hell you motherfucker.” those words which escaped Jason were laced with poison. Bruce didn’t waver.
“You can punch me as much as you want Jason and I’ll deserve all of it.” Bruce came closer to Jason. Jason proceeded to physically make himself smaller. Like a scared animal. Bruce remember what he did to Jason after he had seemingly killed The Penguin. How he beat Jason to within an inch of his life. His heart plummeted to his stomach as he saw Jason cower like a scared dog over his approach.
“What are you going to do Bruce, beat me to a fucking pulp again? You hate me more than you hate the fucking Joker, don’t you?” Jason asked. Bruce truly saw the fear in those green eyes. He had to take a moment and realized just what he was doing. He unclenched his jaw and relaxed his shoulders as he approached Jason. This time he was back within striking range of his son.
“Jason. I failed you. I have been failing you for the past 10 years since your death. I have failed this city and this family in providing the protection it needs. I couldn’t kill The Joker because I’m weak.” Bruce sucked at emotions and emoting. But Bruce hadn’t felt this shaky and wavering since the day he lost Jason. His son needed to know the truth. He deserved to know the truth. “Jason I never hated you. I hated the actions you have taken against the people of this city. But I’ve come to realize that the hatred and contempt I’ve held is because you do what I can’t do.”
“Oh so now you’re coming over to apologize? I don’t owe you shit after what you’ve done to me.” Jason had stated. He may have been acting like a pinned animal. But his mouth will never not cut like knives.
“Jason, when we had fought in the abandoned apartment. And you had the Joker with you. You had tried to shoot me after I had turned away from you.” Bruce said. Inching ever closer to Jason while trying not to be imposing. “In that moment, I threw the batarang because I knew you were going to retaliate against me. But I need you to know in that moment I turned away. I turned away because I decided I wasn’t to be the one to decide the Joker’s fate. He had taken your life and it wasn’t up to me to decide. I want nothing more than for the Joker to pay for the countless lives hes taken and ruined.” Bruce swallowed hard as he felt tears beginning to well in his eyes. “I failed you because I couldn’t kill the Joker. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have my baby boy back. I wanted you back in my life. I still want you back in my life.”
“Bullshit. Fucking BULLSHIT.” Jason spat at Bruce. The emotions were flooding out of his face. Anger, hatred, fear, but most of all sadness. Jason’s voice began wavering as he began to cry. “If you loved me why in the fuck have you never realized I’ve been trying to help the people of Gotham. Instead every time I take matters into my own hands all I meet are your fucking fists. I hate your guts Bruce. We’d all just be better off fucking dead. It’s all Hopeless. I’m hopeless.”
Bruce took a deep breath. He tried to find his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out to his son again. “You’re absolutely right Jason. I’ll bet Gotham would be a whole lot better without me. Without the pain I have caused. And no amount of apologies will fix the pain that I have caused you. No words will ever take back the transgressions I have taken against you.” Bruce was crying this time. “But know this. You always have been my son. And I love you so much. The day I lost my parents was agony. The day I lost you, I felt like I had lost myself I felt I had died a bit inside.” Bruce choked out. “We both have done so much we regret. If I could take back all the times I hit you I would do it in a heartbeat. But no amount of sorry will take back that pain. I shouldn’t be in the position to be asking this. But I just want my son back.” Bruce swallowed. “You have every right to hate me, but I will never stop loving you. You aren’t hopeless and you never have been. You never have been a burden. You are valued by so many people. I. I love you my son. I love you Jason."
Jason’s face relaxed from a position of contempt and hatred and soon was overcome with years of pent up tears. Jason let out a hearty scream as he proceeded to weep and sob. As if a dam had broke and was threatening to engulf a town in an apocalypse. Bruce went against everything he had known and was screaming from the inside of his body and wrapped Jason in a hug. He was almost as large as Bruce himself and barely fit around his arms. But Bruce held his son and hugged him tight. Jason was crying uncontrollably.
“I’m hearing these voices. They’re telling me I’m a monster and a killer and that I should kill all of you.” Jason shouted between sobs. “But I don’t want to. I’m so afraid Bruce. I don’t want to hurt anyone unless I have to.”
“Just breath Jason. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Let it all out.” Bruce had solidified his resolve and worked on being there for Jason. He couldn’t run away this time. His son needed him more than ever. And Gotham be damned. He’s not making this mistake twice. He’s staying here. For Jason.
It felt like hours before Jason had run out of tears and sobs. Jason was fading and seemed like he was about to fall asleep. The shards of glass that were imbedded in his hand seemingly prevented Jason from bleeding out. Bruce had saw Jason’s eyes glaze over as his breathing calmed.
“Jason, I’m going to pick you up and take you to bed.” Bruce had said, asking for permission from his second son. Jason simply nodded as he starred off. He was numb now. The pain seemingly gone for the moment. Bruce lifted Jason up and was taken aback by just how heavy his son was. He truly was 225lbs just like his records showed. This wasn’t the son who hid under the cabinets when Bruce first brought Jason home. But Bruce still saw the boy as his son nonetheless. As Bruce laid Jason on the bed Alfred had approached with a first aid kit. Proceeding to begin to clean up Jason’s hand. Jason was so exhausted he barely felt any of the picking and pulling or the iodine going into his wounds. He kept his eyes fast forward on Bruce.
“Bruce. I. I’m sorry.” Jason had said meekly.
“Don’t apologize Jason.” Bruce had stated. He ran his hand through Jason’s hair, giving a soft massage to his scalp. “You get some sleep now. I don’t think you’ve rested in days.”
Bruce had remembered the time he had read Jason to sleep. This time he had thought back to a poem that struck him from his phone. It was from a famous lyricist and singer. As Bruce pulled up his phone he had found the poem and recited it as Jason fell asleep. Things are far from perfect or even better. But tomorrow was going to be the first day of the rest of his and Jason’s lives.
“They told me once, ‘there's a place where love conquers all’
A city with the streets full of milk and honey
I haven't found it yet, but I'm still searching
All I know is a hopeless place that flows with the blood of my kin
Perhaps hopeless isn't a place
Nothing but a state of mind”
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pHEW GOD THAT WAS LONG. I hope you all enjoyed the fic! This was my first published attempt at angst and whump and while I feel some parts are cringe. I am proud of what I made.
Big thanks again to @dilfbatman for inspiring this fic. The inspiration of the title is the song Hopeless: by Halsey. The quote about I’m Sorry is from the character Shadow Maya Amano from Persona 2: Innocent Sin. And the poem at the end is the first part of the lyrics to the song Good Mourning by Halsey.
#Jason Todd#Red Hood#Bruce Wayne#Batman#Whump#Angst#Hurt/comfort#Non-ship#Bruce being a good father#Jason trying his best#Jason getting the rest he deserves#The two have gone through so much but they can get help#TW Blood#TW Physical abuse#TW Swearing
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