#why was he staring at him in the train station. he wasn’t even a phantom thief yet. he’d been to the metaverse maybe once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

narrators-journal · 2 years

Text

Homecoming part 2

Holy hot fucking hell I’ve been staring at this for SO long, it doesn’t even make sense to me anymore lol. But, I am super happy with how it turned out and I hope you all enjoy the story 💕

I suggest you read part 1 first for full context!

"Hello?" Akira's mother's voice asked from his phone, the surprise ringing in her voice like a bell, making his insides freeze over to the point that he had to force his words out through suddenly uncooperative vocal cords, "Uh, h-hi mom...Just...just wanted to tell you I made it back. And that I'm...at the station." He croaked out, the silence that followed holding a potent question he couldn't even answer himself.

Why did you come back? And with one glance Akira instantly knew Akechi had caught that as well. He could tell from the way his warm brown eyes were glowing with the same questions he saw in Morgana's. "Oh! Akira, dear. I-I'm so sorry, I must've forgotten the date. I'll be there in an hour to get you!" With that, she hung up, leaving the glasses-wearing teen under the weight of Akechi and Mona's stares. "Um...Joker?" Morgana asked gently, his paw pressing comfortingly on his shoulder while the cat's sapphire eyes stared into him, but the teen just stroked his ebony fur, wordlessly telling him he was okay. "Your mother sure does seem...forgetful." Akechi hummed next, the protective layer of social politeness doing little to hide the barbs he had just below the surface But the teen simply shrugged and, before Akechi could try to pry further, turned and went to get his things before heading out of the station to find a bench to wait for his mother while the last few rays of the sun painted the barely-populated edge of town its last warm hues for the day. Thankfully, Akechi took the hint and didn't try to pry into him for the hour that they sat in the cooling evening air. However, his family troubles still sat between them on the bench like a third commuter. I should've told him no. Akira thought while scrolling through the messages his friends had sent over the train ride, What did I think would happen though? I shouldn't have even come home in the first place. He added to himself, recalling the lack of contact he'd had with his parents all year. It was a pretty clear message on its own, and yet there the phantom thief was, seemingly hoping it wasn't true.

For the umpteenth time that day, the glasses-clad delinquent bit back the burn of tears. He stubbornly refused to cry. Especially not in front of his crush and rival. He'd know the likelihood of this occurrence, he had no right to break down right now. So, he instead made himself let out a slow, steadying breath and just focused back in on reading his messages. Pretending he didn't feel Akechi's gaze burning into his soul and the heavy dread in his stomach until he heard the crunch of the asphalt drawing closer. "Are you sure that you're okay with this? Are your mom and dad awful?" Morgana whispered from his school bag as the car came to a stop in front of them, but he went ignored as a small moment passed before a woman with long, chestnut hair that cascaded down her back in the same wild waves as Akira's stepped out, "Akira! Sweetie!" she sang a bit too brightly, coming over to throw her arms around him a bit too tightly, but also letting go a moment too early. "I'm so sorry for being late, dear. I've been so busy today, I should've double-checked your return date." She hummed as she stepped back and gave him a warm smile, but the boy saw the discomfort and remorse just beneath it. Silence. Akira wasn't a stranger to the quiet, no one in his family was a big conversationalist. But this bout of silence had him struggling to breathe while his mother just stood in front of him. scanning over his boxes and counting them as an excuse to avoid looking at him until Akechi finally stepped in to break the surface tension. "Well, Akira? Aren't you gonna introduce me to this lovely lady?" He asked lightly in that masterfully crafted TV voice of his, making the brunette look at him, stunned for a moment at the sheer thought of her son bringing somebody back with him before she gave an awkward giggle, "Oh, I'm sorry, are you his probation officer?" She asked, "What? No, I'm his friend," Akechi chuckled, shaking the woman's hand with a sweet smile that the muted boy would've found angelic if he hadn't faced the Goro Akechi hidden behind that mask, "I'm Goro Akechi, ma'am, it's lovely to meet you at last. Your son has talked you up a fair bit." That last sugar-coated barb got the detective a sharp glare, but the phantom thief's look went ignored by his companion and unnoticed by his mother, who just smiled and apologized for the mix-up before changing the subject, "Well! I-it's getting late, we better get home. Come on, dear, before you worry your father anymore." Akira nodded at that and set about moving his things into her car as fast as he could without letting on his tension. Don't you dare cry yet. He told himself when that sickly familiar burn returned to his charcoal-colored eyes yet again, Just a few more minutes. Let mom get out of sight of Akechi. Just don't cry in front of him. He coached, taking a moment to lean against the box he'd just loaded into the backseat of the car, blinking and taking deep breaths to curb the ache in his heart and the thorny dread and fear that were causing this latest threat to his stability. While he was duct-taping his composure back together, the dark-haired teen listened to Akechi and his mother's conversation, "Oh! ma'am, I know this is a tad weird, but do you think I could ride back into town with you? Just so I don't have to walk and hunt for a hotel all night," Akechi asked, Akira's mom humming indecisively for a moment before caving under that small-town pressure of hospitality. It wasn't polite to send a visiting friend to stay in the hotel, but the phantom thief could see the despair glowing in his mother's eyes as she made the polite offer, "Oh don't bother with a hotel! You're a friend of Akira's, you can stay with us for the night," She assured in a voice that was so forced, Akira was surprised his mother's jaw didn't break from the movement. Guess that plan's out the window. He thought darkly, letting the fresh wave of frustration act as a bit of plaster over his festering emotions so he could pack the rest of his things away and return to the casual conversation at the side of the road. Watching the brunette smoothly wrap the reluctant woman around his finger made Akira's stomach twist a bit. Not particularly because Akechi was manipulating his mother, but because it showed how easy it must have been for the man to do the same thing to the phantom thief, and that still hurt a little bit. This isn't a surprise. You already knew he was a master manipulator. He told himself, shaking his head, No. I have to remember what Akechi's done. He's still not trustworthy. With that, he double-checked that all of his boxes were put away and Morgana was at his shoulder, signaling to his mother that it was time to face the music. "Well, come on boys, let's get back into town before it gets too late." She chirped, climbing back into the car and leaving the two of them to follow. Once settled in, she pulled away from the station, Akira watching out the window as the scenery zipped by them on the drive back to his childhood home. Predictably, the ride back into the main portion of the tiny town was steeped in tension and discomfort that seemed to grow when his mother flicked on the radio to fill the quiet. The music was nothing but a failed distraction from what both of them knew was waiting ahead. His father. Thinking back on his father's reaction to his arrest was something Akira had done in the days leading up to his departure from Tokyo. His father was a quiet man, like himself, and while he wasn't a very emotionally present father, the teen's false accusation had seemingly hurt him the most between him and the boy's mother. He'd been furious, not so much as looking at his son since he'd been hauled in on those false charges. It was like he couldn't bring himself to face the fact that Akira had supposedly hurt someone. Though at the same time, Akira couldn't help but feel like that wasn't the real reason for his father shunning him. It might have been the reason given, but the dark-haired teen could tell. His father simply couldn't stand to face the confirmation of his worst fears. To face that his son might have hurt someone, that he truly was as messed up as the kids and all of their parents had whispered since kindergarten. Akira's dad didn't need to say the truth because he'd already made his disdain clear. "Alright, we're home." His mother chirped as she pulled into a familiar driveway and shut the car off in front of a small, but cute house that should've filled the phantom thief's soul to the brim with relief and joy to see, but instead only pinned the dark-haired teen to his seat with the weight of the dread boulder growing in his gut. His mother must've felt the same way because she didn't seem that keen on going inside either. So, they sat there for what felt like an eternity, silently daring each other to be the first one to approach the house. Though the game ended when Akechi cleared his throat, "Uh, would you like me to help you bring your stuff in, Akira?" He asked, the teen's neck as stiff as a rebar pole as he nodded, but his mother spoke up when the detective went to finally get out, "Oh don't worry about that right now boys! I-I'm sure Akira and his dad can get it tomorrow." She assured, her voice full of too much sugar and sunshine for such a dark hour, something that Akira saw made Akechi's reddish-brown eyes narrow briefly. However, the selective mute couldn't seem to force his frozen vocal cords to function, so he had to resort to sending the brunette psychic pleas to keep his mouth shut and not start a fight. How much Akira simply wished to get this night done with as little drama as possible. Which, the man thankfully seemed to get, because instead of outright calling the woman out for her behavior, all he did was tilt his head in innocent confusion, "It'd be of no problem to me, ma'am, and I'm sure your son would like to at least have his blankets and clothes inside for tomorrow," but his mother got out and just laughed it off, "He's got plenty of blankets and clothes left inside, he'll be fine for a night." She promised though the dark-haired teen could see his hollow room staring down at him like some sick taunt. Maybe that's why he still sat in the car. Letting his mother dissuade Akechi from bringing anything of his in at this hour. Stewing in anxiety with the weight of how unwelcome he was gluing him to the car seat. However, before the burn of tears he'd still miraculously not shed could pounce on that moment of weakness, a knock at the window made him and Morgana both jump. When he looked though, it was simply Akechi, looking through the glass with even more questions and annoyance swimming in his eyes. Though, for once, not aimed at him. For now, though, the thief pushed those thoughts aside and just forced his stiff body to get out of the car, keeping his school bag with him so he'd have Morgana close by as he walked with Akechi up to the porch where his mother waited, the woman giving the teen one more bone-crushing hug before smiling at Akechi, "Forgive the mess, I've been a little busy today and didn't think my son would bring a friend home," With that, she opened the door and led them inside. What Akira saw inside was another familiar sight. His dad, a tall, dark-haired man with the same charcoal eyes as the phantom thief leader sat in a patchy recliner, focused on a book while a radio in the kitchen filled the silence until his mother spoke, "Honey! Akira's home and he has a friend with him, so try to be nice and not scare him." She chirped as she flitted off to the kitchen to start dinner, deftly avoiding the way her husband tore his dark eyes away from her to narrow them at their child, the dark-haired boy not needing to look up from where his gaze was fixed on the hardwood flooring to see the venomous question in his father's look. Why are you back. "I'm sorry sir, is Akira not welcome?" The detective almost spat, his own potent venom finally slipping into his curt tone, making the dark-haired persona user grab onto his arm and pull at him until the brunette turned the evil look he was giving his parent onto him and could see his desperate pleas in his rivals dark gray eyes. PLEASE stop. Don't start a fight right now, PLEASE. The teen was begging, praying Akechi had turned over a new leaf enough to not lash out any further than he already had. Which, at first, it seemed he had done, as he simply pulled his arm away from his rival and asked his mother in that polite facade he'd briefly dropped, "Ma'am, when's dinner expected to be done? I think I'm going to have Akira give me a small tour so I can get a feel for this place, and I'd hate for him to miss a homecooked meal." making the woman almost jumped when acknowledged, but she was quick to give them an estimation of an hour. Watching with her son as the brunette spun on his heel, grabbed Akira by the wrist, and pulled him back out into the quiet night once more. Once the front door had clicked shut though, Akira took the lead and silently walked down the road, not giving Akechi a chance to pry into him at long last. There was no point to it, Akira knew what the detective was going to say. So, instead of letting his rival confront him with things he was already well aware of, the wild card simply marched down the road. Passing by familiar homes and cars while wishing that one of them would pull out of their driveway and run him over so he could escape the thick cloud of hostility his companion gave off on his behalf. Don't be silly, the rational voice in his head said, Akechi'd just bring you back to life to get answers. And it was right, he had learned the painful way that Akechi was as determined as a pitbull in his goals. No matter how self-destructive or cruel. However, that didn't make it any easier to lead his companion to the main road where most of the town's shops were lined up and asleep for the night feeling the anger radiating off of him while a brutally sharp question sat notched in Akechi's bow. On the other hand, though, Akira knew he couldn't avoid the topic forever. Akechi would find out somehow, and it wouldn't be a pretty sight if the boy let the vengeful brunette confront his parents. So, the dark-haired phantom thief let out a sigh and pressed Morgana a bit closer to his side while he searched for the park his mother used to take him to when he was little and reluctantly plopped down on a weathered bench at the edge of the little plot of land, keeping his charcoal-colored eyes focused on the moonlight-painted grass while listening to Akechi's footsteps slowing down and finally stopping beside him before the brunette sat down beside him. Akechi gave him enough time to reach into his school bag and bring Morgana out to send the cat off to explore before taking a deep breath and speaking in such a jarringly understanding, gentle voice that the phantom thief winched, "Did your parents think you were dead?" He asked, almost offering the excuse, but all Akira could do without letting the tears welling into his eyes fall was shake his head at the question, keeping his eyes on the ground as they lapsed into another suffocating silence. Akechi let it stretch out for a few torturous moments before he dealt another blow to the phantom thief. "They didn't want you to come home from probation, did they?" The question was asked with such a sickeningly soft familiarity and understanding. He hated how perceptive Akechi was. He hated how he put into words the silent message his parent sent by not acknowledging his birthday. Akira hated how having that fact finally verbalized provided the hairline fracture the emotions needed to get through the dam he had been holding up with duct tape all day. But it wasn't just the way Akechi had been so aware of the issues Akira had never spoken of in his year with him that had him doubled over with his head almost between his knees and his arms over his head as hot tears poured down his cheeks and sobs shook his whole world. The final blow was the fact that the man who had betrayed Akira and his friends, had tried to murder the quiet boy twice, had voiced the truth so delicately. The same man who had been determined to end him for merely existing was sitting there in the cool, quiet darkness of the night, talking to him with nothing but empathy. Akira wanted to rip into his old enemy. He wanted to scream at the man and blow up at him, but the only thing he could do was let out an agonized, melancholy scream through his clenched teeth, his nails digging into the back of his head in some feeble attempt to staunch the ugly, childish sobs torn from his sore throat, but the pain didn't save the black-haired thief from being swept away in the heavy tsunami of anger, loss, homesickness, and a potent pain that he'd let pull him apart like fork-tender roast beef all day. So, instead of verbalizing his anger at Akechi for daring to be so nice to him after his earlier actions, Akira relied on physical attacks. Only to find that at some point in his haze, the detective had pulled him into a hug, letting the dark-haired leader of the phantom thieves dig his nails into his arm and bite him like a toddler throwing a violent tantrum until he seemed to tire himself out. After that, the thief just let his rival hold him while he continued to sob uncontrollably. Neither spoke. They didn't need to speak. All they did was sit in the silent park, Morgana wordlessly pressed to Akira's leg as he sobbed, and Akechi silently held him even after his distraught wails had lessened.

#persona 5 royal #persona 5 #akeshu #Akechi x Akira #Persona #short story #kind of canon compliant #but also not #I described Akira's parents but that's nowhere near canon #kinda angsty #Akira Kurusu #Ren Amamiya #Akechi Goro #You can read this like a ship #or friendship it doesn't really matter

10 notes · View notes

arcsin27 · 2 years

Text

Yeah yeah p5r slapped everyone with “ren loves akechi” but what about the way p5a slapped everyone with “akechi simps for ren”

#why was he staring at him in the train station. he wasn’t even a phantom thief yet. he’d been to the metaverse maybe once #they changed their first meeting to akechi and sae going to Leblanc and akechi just sits directly in front of ren and starts chatting #one of the intros is arguably just describing how akechi feels about ren #“dark sun I hate you but I feel lost and you make me feel alive” sir this is a Wendy’s #like dude leave him alone lmfao what a simp #persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 the animation #p5a #akechi #akira #ren #akeshu #shuake #i’m not wrong

295 notes · View notes

ginemrys · 3 years

Note

a bedsharing fic!! <3

i had some fun with this one!!! thank you for sending in the prompt @sunshine-marauders <3

-------

“Lily, it’s okay, we’ll grab a room in a hotel, it’s not the end of the world.” James said as the two of them stood staring up at the boards in the centre of Euston station, tears in Lily’s eyes as she read the bright orange “CANCELLED” sign beside their train, the last train of the night that would get them home.

It had been a wonderful night of visiting the theatre with one of her best friends, getting lost in a musical for a few hours. The two of them had been singing songs from the show to each other on the tube on the way back to their station, not caring as they got weird stares from other passengers on the Northern line whilst they sang a beautiful rendition of All I Ask Of You. And sure, Lily had felt her heart beat a little faster when they reached the point of the song where Christine and Raoul kiss as she looked into James’ eyes, but that didn’t mean she liked him. It just meant that she understood the character, right?

But their sing-along had come at a price. They’d missed their stop. And the next after that. Then the next. It wasn’t until the last passenger left besides them on the train got off at Golders Green that they’d realised their mistake. And then they’d had to run and get the tube back to Euston, only to just miss one. A three minute wait later and they were finally heading back to Euston, getting off to discover that the last train to Northampton was cancelled. And they were stranded in London.

Lily was wiping furiously at her eyes. They’d stopped for a drink in a bar after the show, assuming that they’d have enough time. So the alcohol in her system heightened her emotions, resulting in the water works. James was scrolling through his phone, looking for the closest hotel.

“There’s a Travelodge or a Premier Inn, they’re fairly close. Everything else is ridiculously expensive.” James said, glancing up at her. “Which would you prefer?”

“Premier Inn, duh.” Lily said, pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you sure we can’t get a taxi?”

“From Euston to Leighton Buzzard?” James shook his head. “It’ll be cheaper to spend the night. Come on, it won’t be that bad. It’s just a short walk and then we can grab some breakfast in the morning before heading home.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What do you say?”

“Fine,” Lily shoved his side playfully, but leaned into his hold after. “But you’re buying breakfast, you’re the one who suggested drinks.”

“Deal.” James chuckled before ducking to kiss the top of her head. “Come on, let’s go. It’s late and we’re both shattered.”

And so they made their way out of the station, following Google Maps to the closest Premier Inn. It was dead quiet inside, just one sleepy receptionist behind the desk barely able to hold her head up.

“Hi, how can I help?” She asked in a monotone voice, having just blinked at the two of them a few times as if she was trying to figure out if they were real or just her imagination.

“Hey, we missed the last train home. Do you have any rooms for tonight?” James asked, running his hand through his hair. Lily watched his movements, eyes following the motion of his fingers brushing through the messy black curls. She wanted to do that, run her hands through his hair. Chill out, Lily. She mentally berated herself, barely hearing the conversation beside her as she tried to sort out whatever the hell was going on with her hormones at that moment.

“Lily?”

“What?”

“Are you good with sharing a bed? There’s only doubles left.”

Holy shit. The thought of sharing a bed with James both thrilled and terrified her. Would she be able to control herself around him? The not crush but definitely a crush that she’d been harbouring for him for the last few months might rear its ugly head and make her do something stupid. But then again, she really didn’t want to have to walk all the way to the Travelodge and have the exact same option, or no room at all.

So she nodded, blushing when James grinned and turned back to the receptionist, passing over his card. Lily tried to protest but he insisted that she could just send him half the money later to save time. Then before she knew it she was joining him in the lift, heading up to the fifth floor. Of course James had had the foresight to ask for some toothbrushes and toothpaste, Lily was far too occupied to even consider such a thing.

Lily decided that she was going to hum to herself the overture to Phantom of the Opera as they travelled up to their floor, her eyes fixed on the ceiling of the lift. And then James’ hand was in hers, pulling her out of the lift and down the corridors of the fifth floor until they came to a stop in front of their room. He swiped the key card and there they were, alone, in a room with one bed.

Her throat felt thick as Lily looked at the double bed, why did it look so tiny? She stood in the small space beside the open wardrobe and the bathroom while James flicked on the lights and moved further into the room, peeling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes as he went.

“Come on, Evans. It’s just a place to sleep.” He smiled at her as he said it, noticing her hesitance. Damn him for being so perceptive to her emotions all of the time. With a deep breath, Lily walked further into the room, setting her shoes beside his while her own jacket draped over the top of his on the chair.

“Here, toothbrush.” He said, passing her one of the two clear toothbrushes he had picked up. “I’ll let you use the bathroom first, gentleman as I am.”

“Oh, so kind.” Lily rolled her eyes while grinning at him, accepting the toothbrush gratefully. She shut herself up in the bathroom, immediately rushing to the sink to splash some water on her face. Why was she so warm? “Get it together, Evans.” She muttered to herself, glancing at her reflection. She sighed as she looked at her makeup, minimal as it was, she had nothing to remove it with. Which would almost certainly result in panda eyes in the morning, but what other choice did she have?

So she left her face alone and focused on brushing her teeth, being a little more thorough than she usually would so James wouldn’t have to wake up to horrific morning breath. God, James was going to see her first thing in the morning. Christ on a bike. She filled one of the small glasses by the sink with water to rinse out her mouth, then gulped another glass down.

James was sitting perched on the edge of the bed when she returned, his eyes meeting hers straight away. Damn, did this man ever stop smiling?

“All… All yours.” Lily said quietly, stepping out of the way as he moved to head into the bathroom.

“Thanks, Lil.”

The door locked behind him and she released a deep breath again, her fingers moving shakily to undo her jeans. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep in them, so wanted to get them off and climb under the covers before he could come back. He wouldn’t want to see her in her underwear.

Jeans folded, with her bra tucked safely beneath them, Lily climbed into the left side of the bed, hoping he didn’t mind that she preferred the left. She plugged her phone into the socket next to her bed, thanking her past self for packing her charger in her bag. And then she waited, sitting cross-legged beneath the duvet as she listened to the sounds of the tap running.

The bathroom door opened and Lily had to do her best not to gasp. He’d taken his shirt off. It wasn’t even like it was the first time she’d seen him shirtless either, but seeing him in a dimly lit bedroom right before he was about to be laying right next to her was something else.

“You don’t mind if I sleep in my boxers, do you?” He was asking, his eyes having taken note of her folded jeans.

Lily shook her head, doing her best to look him in the eyes rather than drool all over his bare chest like some hormonal teenage girl watching Magic Mike for the first time. But then he turned his back on her and was pushing his jeans over his hips and Lily couldn’t help but stare. It was actually so unfair how fit her best friend was now, she could still remember the scrawny little kid she used to swim in the local lake with.

Any shred of sanity Lily had left vanished when he turned to face her again, she could feel a wave of heat rushing all over her body. And he’d seen it happen, had seen her eyes darken and her gaze shift into something hungry.

But he ignored it, electing to just climb into bed beside her and turn out the light, facing away from her.

With a slight huff, Lily threw herself down against her pillow, gazing up at the dark ceiling. Her arms were folded over her chest, her legs still crossed like they had been when she’d been sitting. While annoyed that he’d not responded to her sex eyes, she also just felt embarrassed. Because she’d totally just objectified him, looked at her best friend in the whole world like he was a tree for her to climb and use. And she hated herself for it.

“I can hear you thinking, Evans.” James whispered through the darkness, his back still facing hers. “Relax.”

And she did, her hands slid to rest on her stomach, her legs unfolded and moved to rest against the mattress. Her eyes closed and she let out a small sigh. And then he had to go and roll over, his breath on her neck.

While she knew she should just ignore it, squint her eyes and try to sleep, Lily couldn’t help but turn her head on her pillow, her eyes opening once more. And there he was, looking at her. No glasses, his hair already made even messier than usual from the pillow. He just looked so soft.

Usually James was all sharp edges and angular, charisma dripping from every inch of his body. He was sarcastic and energetic and never ever seemed to get tired. But there, laying in bed beside him, he seemed so calm, so at peace. His sharp edges had blurred, softened by the look in his eyes as he gazed at Lily. And that was what he was doing, gazing.

It didn’t take her much to lean in, just one look from him was enough. Her body turned on the mattress as she shifted to reach his lips, her own brushing his softly. And then she moved to pull away, to see his reaction when he moved, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to drag her closer. His lips covered hers and by god, did it feel right. Lily’s hand came to rest on his chest as she kissed him eagerly, their mouths pressing together in a perfect dance, nothing too eager or too slow.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months.” Lily whispered when they broke apart, her eyes still closed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”

She looked at him then. There was no trace of a lie in his eyes. She believed him, because of course she did. James never lied to her.

And then she tackled him against the bed and thanked the London Northwestern Railway gods for cancelling the last train home.

#jily fan fic #jily drabble #jily fic

205 notes · View notes

aro-aizawa · 2 years

Text

Locked Out - Chapter 3

A Danny Phantom / My Hero Academia Crossover, set mid season 2 and pre-canon respectively.

[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 2] | [On AO3] | [Chapter 4]

There was an hand that slapped his arm, jerking him awake. “Hey kid, wake up we’re almost there.”

It was still sort of surreal - the whole situation. It was slowly sinking in the more he saw of this alternate Japan, that he was actually here. The more odd looking people he saw walking around in public the more that he was realised that it wasn’t a fever dream. Even the most normal looking of people had quirks (not the superpowered kind) to them, considering Kirika told him that a lot of bright coloured hair was naturally occurring now (weird).

Danny stretched in his seat as the train approached a station. Without much hassle, Kirika directed him out of the station and towards her spare apartment. “This one is smaller so I don’t generally tend to use it a lot, but it does have two bedrooms. I’ll have to rent another storage lot and clear out the spare room, so that’ll be yours for now. I go by Kamiya here, Kamiya Kirika. We’re gonna make a quick stop for groceries though.”

And so they went to a grocery store. It was…another genre of weird that Danny couldn’t quite get used to. There were aspects that were similar than back home, but he recognised none of the products, some had characters on them that Kirika told him were famous heroes.

They didn’t get much, but Kirika got a few groceries that would let her cook western style meals, which Danny was grateful for. It wouldn’t be the same but it might make getting used to being here easier while they figured out a plan.

When they got to Kirika’s apartment, he was surprised by how small it was. He’d vaguely known that Japanese homes were usually rather small, but he hadn’t expected it still. The whole of this apartment would fit at least five times into the FentonWorks. Kirika hadn’t been kidding about emptying the second bedroom because you could barely open the door.

“Okay, what was that thing you mentioned back at the other place. You have an idea of getting us out of here?” Kirika asked as they sat on the couch, she pulled up her sleeve and redressed her wounded arm. It hadn’t been hurt that bad, a deep muscle bruise she had determined, apparently she had some good bruise cream from another universe that would help heal it in no time.

“So you did your homework on me - I’ll want an explanation of how you got it later - and found my powers are intangibility; flight; invisibility; ectoblasts; and duplication. You’re right I can do all of those and a few other things, make ectoplasmic constructs to make a shield or weapon; use telekinesis to move stuff and let out an unearthly ghostly wail that can decimate almost anything in its path, plus a few other things I either haven’t got the hang of, or discovered yet.”

Kirika just stared at him with wide eyes.

“Oh and I can also take over someone’s body, possess them and control their actions.”

She was silent for a second before she took a breath and looked at the floor. “Wow. No wonder he wanted to know how to get your powers.”

“Yup. Which is why you can see I am very protective of the knowledge of how I got these powers in the first place. I am not unaware that someone with my powers could take down worlds.”

Danny fought off a shudder. No. He wouldn’t. He knew what Dan was and he knew he wasn’t going to make the same mistake, no matter what, he wasn’t going to turn into him. But if he gave someone the ability to become what Dan was? No, that would be just as bad.

“Wait, possession.” Kirika blinked. “You can control people?”

“Okay this is where I say that it _might _work. Locksley couldn’t disable my powers because they weren’t a quirk, when I overshadow a ghost, I can sometimes use their powers but it’s tricky. Because I haven’t overshadowed humans with powers or quirks, I have no idea if I can use them. If I can use someone’s quirk, then it could be as easy as me overshadowing him and getting him to release your quirk. But if it turns out that I can’t, then it’d be a dead end.”

Kirika hummed, “So we’re going to need to test your limits basically. Is it painful?”

“Nope, they usually don’t remember it or feel any pain during it. They’ll be slightly confused, like blanking out for a second, but they’ll generally go back to whatever they were doing before.”

“Then in that case, test it on me. When I try to use my quirk, that lock mark whatever glows slightly, but it doesn’t when I don’t. If you overshadow me, and try it then we’ll know if you can use other people’s quirks. We could probably try it on other people if you want to make sure.”

Danny stood up, prompting Kirika to stand up too. “You sure? I will be controlling your body against your will.”

Kirika stood up too and shot him a look. “Kid, consider it pay back for kidnapping you. Just don’t do it to me without permission and you’ll be fine. You do this,” she started moving her hand in the familiar way, “and concentrate hard on the universe you want to go to.”

“Okay.” Danny shrugged, transforming before zipping into Kirika before he could psyche himself out of it. She stumbled slightly as he got used to controlling the body.

It always felt _weird _overshadowing someone. It felt like wearing a three layers of thick clothing, or having a dissociative episode. The body never really felt real, but he was also aware of the sensations it was picking up, like the mild ache in Kirika’s arm, or the sound of the city from the window, the smell of an unused living area.

“Okay.” Kirika’s voice sounded, as Danny flexed her uninjured arm and repeated the motion she used. He looked down at the mark and tried again. With a deep sigh, he slipped out of Kirika.

He saw her blink, shake her head and look at where Danny had dropped back on the couch with a dejected expression. “Didn’t work?”

“Nope. Not sure if it was because the lock, or because of the limitation of overshadowing. I think it might be the limitation though, it might be easier to test it out with other quirks though. What was it you said? The different quirk types?”

“Emitter, transformation and mutant. My quirk is an emitter type, I can emit things, and it has minimal effect on my body. Transformation is where the quirk temporarily transforms the user, either by will or an outside trigger. Mutant type is where the quirk gives the holder permanent changes to their body, like an extra tail or the appearance of a dog.”

“Right, because overshadowing is all to do with controlling the body I usually can’t control people to do things that I can’t do myself. Like for example, I can’t play the guitar, even if I overshadow someone who can, I don’t have that knowledge to make them do that. I think it’s the same for emitter type quirks, it might be the same with transformation too. Mutant types are likely the type I might be able to use but I’m not all that sure about that.”

Kirika sighed. “And that means that even if you can control quirks, you wouldn’t be able to use emitter quirks, which means you wouldn’t be able to use Locksley’s quirk in the first place.”

“Exactly.” Danny sighed. “Which means we can’t use my powers to force him to release your quirk. I might be the exception of his quirk, but he’s also the exception of my powers. We’ll have to find another way to force him to reverse it.”

Kirika sighed and laid back.

“I know I said this before, but I really am sorry, ki— Danny. Not just because I lost my quirk. I’m so used to not being pinned down, I forget that consequences for people are usually an actual thing. Morals are more like guidelines to me.”

Danny looked at her, seeing the remorse on her face. At this point, he’d mostly forgiven her, sure he was a little bit bitter still, but that was primarily directed at Locksley. Yes, it was scary that he was trapped here and he didn’t even know if anyone back home knew he was gone, or if they were going out their minds with worry. It was scary that he wasn’t familiar with anything around here, he was going to have to adapt until they force Locksley to give Kirika’s quirk back.

But Danny could adapt. He was good at it! Sort of. After all, he’d adapted to turning into a halfa, using his powers felt so natural to him now. And if he was here for a while, he could use his powers freely! Without having to worry about possibly being dissected, which would be nice.

“I forgive you.” He said. “I’m going to be here for a while aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” Kirika winced. “Oh god, I’m going to have to get a job, aren’t I?”

Danny laughed.

After a long day of transporting boxes of Kirika’s stuff to a closer storage lot (without stealing transportation), they managed to empty out and clean the room that would be Danny’s temporarily. It was tiny. It was probably smaller than the bathroom in Danny’s house, maybe eight or nine square metres. There was a bed and a set of drawers, but other than that there wasn’t any other furniture.

“I have enough money to get you a few things while you’re here, a new phone, a bunch of clothes and maybe a piece of furniture, but I can’t spend too much. If you see something I have, ask me if you can borrow it and I’ll tell you if you can. I’ll set up another user on my laptop, so you can use that when I’m not.” She’d said before retreating to her room to start up the job searching.

Thankfully, she left him alone with the TV and a notebook so he could at the very least try and make more sense of the world outside of just what Kirika told him. He wrote out a cheat sheet of some of the things she told him that he remembered. Things like quirks, how the society went, some of the laws she’d idly mentioned that she never followed.

Danny spent most of the day going from watching the news and getting the basic gist of local and famous heroes, he watched a few documentaries, and even a movie. It was weird how…focused this universe was on their heroes. They were almost a replacement of celebrities, from what Danny could grasp there weren’t many celebrities that weren’t also heroes. Heroes tended to do a multitude of jobs, such as Present Mic being a radio host, Uwabami being a model, and a number of other heroes being teachers.

He supposed that if the hero profession was so saturated with heroes, then they’d be better off getting side jobs to fill their time, but it was still weird how fixated the world was on Heroes vs Villains. It left somewhat of a bad taste in his mouth when he noticed that the villains seemed to be some of the more abnormal looking people, the underprivileged or mentally ill.

Danny knew that there were similar problems back in his universe, he wasn’t as ignorant to ignore his privilege there. But there was something sour about it when it was glorified as such.

By the time that he was starting to get hungry, Kirika emerged from her room looking like death. Danny fought the urge to say ‘mood’. “I wanna die, job searching is so soul sucking.”

“Oh I already did that, not fun.” He joked.

She snorted. “Alright food time, can you cook?”

“Define ‘cook’.”

“Is the food you make edible?”

“I can make a sandwich? If it involves heating something up other than boiling it or throwing it in the microwave, then no.”

“Okay, I’m gonna teach you to cook while you’re here then. If you’re staying with me, I’m not going to cook all our meals, deal?”

Danny groaned. “Okay.”

She went to the kitchen and started to pull out ingredients for spaghetti carbonara, while they talked for their plan for the next day. They would go shopping for some things for Danny, while Kirika would apply for some more jobs in person. Danny somewhat had the feeling that he’d have to keep an eye on what they were buying, because he got the vibe that Kirika probably would likely steal some of the things they were going to get.

(He was still bewildered by the fact that he rode in a stolen van.)

(Wait did that mean he assisted in a crime?)

When he laid down in his new bed for the night, it took him a while to fall asleep. There were so many thing he wasn’t used to, the feel of the sheets that weren’t softened by use, how Kirika’s spare t-shirt and pajama bottoms felt on him, the sound of the city outside. He wanted to brainstorm until he had a solution, but he _knew _that he’d just work himself up into a frenzy.

Instead, his mind drifted back to his family and friends. He wondered what they would think about this world, the mechanics of it and the possibilities. Jazz would no doubt be fascinated by the psychology of quirks, Sam would likely be against the turning of heroism into something from which capitalism could benefit from, and Tucker would probably straight up stab someone to get a hold of technology from two hundred years in the future.

He missed them, but he couldn’t keep musing on what they were doing or feeling right now. Danny rolled over and went to sleep, finally without any pressure of waking up for any reason in particular.

That morning, Danny woke up and realised that it was now his third (technically second) day in this universe. He faintly heard rock music playing from elsewhere, presumably something that Kirika was playing. After he spent a few minutes absorbing the atmosphere, he kicked the sheets off and padded out to the kitchen.

Kirika was there at the table typing at her laptop, looking like she’d rather be doing anything than whatever she was doing. Danny snorted, she was probably still doing the job searching. She’d told him that she’d only ever gotten jobs when she was in her teens but hadn’t needed to since she could just sell things from other universes.

“Please tell me you’re ready to leave soon, I can’t take another minute of this.” She whined pushing the laptop away and laying her face on the table.

Danny rolled his eyes as he went about getting a bowl of cereal - the All Mighty-Os was supposedly very popular he hoped it tasted as sugary as it looked - as he replied to her. “I mean, let me eat, shower and change then we can go.”

It turned out that Danny had been right to keep an eye on the stuff they were getting because he caught Kirika slipping things in her bag that they hadn’t paid for more than a few times. He managed to put them back before anyone noticed, not without a glare to the girl which got one in return. At some points, she left Danny to browse while she went to talk to people about jobs, she said she had a few in the area that would give her an interview that day but she wasn’t all that excited to be doing them.

They got Danny a phone that allowed him to download apps and use the internet if he had wifi, with a limited amount of roaming. It wasn’t a very expensive model, but it would do. They had even managed to find a phone charger that would work with his old phone, it wouldn’t be able to do anything but function as it would on aeroplane mode, but at least it would let him play his own music, take photos and reread old texts.

By the time that they got back to the apartment, Danny had a sizeable amount of things to his name. But there had been one thing that had occurred to him as they were out.

“We need a cover story.”

“Huh?” She asked as they were putting Danny’s new clothes on in the wash, and he was double checking their haul to make sure Kirika hadn’t stolen more things when his back was turned.

“Y’know, what we tell other people? I don’t exactly look related to you, and my name says I’m not from around here. We don’t want to broadcast where I’m really from and how I got here, do we?”

“Hm,” she considered. “Point. Well my cover story here is that I have a weak quirk that means I’m more adaptable to temperature, and my surname is Kamiya. I don’t really talk to anyone, but my landlord, he thinks I work from home.”

“Yeah what _is _your real name, because at your old place you said it was Watanabe.”

“Watanabe is my real name, but I have a bunch of different names I use depending on the location. I am an actual criminal remember? But you’re right, we need to figure out a cover story for you. I’d say we stick to the whole you’re from America thing, but you should definitely be related to me in some way.”

“A cousin maybe?”

“Yeah that’s pretty reasonable, you can just say that you learned Japanese from me growing up, and you’re staying here because…”

Danny shrugged. “My parents are ghosthunters, I can’t think of a reasonable excuse for them to ship me off abroad without making them sound bad, which I don’t want to do, and I’d like to stick as close to the truth as possible with them.”

“Fair enough. We’ll think about it, but for now just be evasive about why you’re here instead of America. _But _that will also lead to another question.”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m pretty obviously a teenager. Homeschooling wouldn’t work as an excuse would it?”

“Not really, besides you need something to do all day if I’m going to be at work. I can get you some fake papers and enrol you in the middle school round here.”

“Wait middle school, but I’m in high school?”

“Different school system kid, in Japan, high school is the last three years only, and I’m pretty sure that you’re in your first year, right?”

“That’s going to be a blast. Middle school was so much fun!” He said sarcastically as he found a pocket in Kirika’s bag that he hadn’t known was there, that was filled with things that were stolen. “Aw, c’mon seriously?” He glared at her while pointing to the secret pocket.

She smirked at him and made her way over to her laptop before typing. “Don’t see you stepping up and buying them for me. Besides, about the school thing, if we’re lucky we can figure it out before you’re there for that long. It’s December now, so we’ve got a few months before you’re expected to go to high school. I didn’t tell Locksley your surname because I didn’t bother learning it, so you should be fine using that. You’ll get called it by default though, Japanese culture thing.”

“Oh yeah, that. I did wonder at that. My name’s Fenton, my alias is a play on it. Danny Fenton. Danny Phantom.” Danny shrugged.

“Wow that is so ridiculous, I love it. Cool, well I guess the fake documents we’ll need for you are a US passport, and a visa. Other than that, I just need to register that you’re staying with me, then I can sort out your enrollment. Good job I also stole you some school supplies while we were out.”

Danny sputtered. “Just where did you hide them?!”

Kirika looked Danny dead in the eye and started to empty the pockets of her cargo pants. By the time she’d finished, there was a relatively pile of stationary and other miscellaneous school supplies on the table (including some A4 sized books and a calculator big enough to hurt if you hit someone with it). Danny was starting to be intimidated by her slight of hand.

“And that, my friend, is why you put function above fashion every time you go out. Plus I pull off these pants, as well as some people pull off a tight dress.”

The same day that Kirika managed to land a job, was the same day she enrolled Danny in school. She came home and groaned collapsing onto the couch and almost hitting him. She’d picked up both their uniforms, and told him that he’d be starting school next week, on Monday, she on the other hand would be starting tomorrow, on Friday as a waitress.

“The hours are so bad!” She groaned, “I’m going to be in customer service! I hate interacting with people.”

“What am I, a rock?” Danny snarked, kicking at legs.

“Teenagers are different, I’m usually good with teenagers, I get them, it’s other people I can’t handle it. There’s a big difference between people and people in public. Customer service is another type of hell, that I curse you to have to work in at least once in your life.”

“Well I rebuke that curse to lay one on you that you can _only _work in customer service for the rest of your life.”

“Damn you really got me, laying nonexistent curses on me. Oh how will I go on?” She replied in a dry voice. Which Danny snorted at. “Anyways, what’ve you been doing today, kid, while I’ve been busting my ass?”

Danny rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I’ve just been trying to learn more about this universe? I don’t want to feel or seem like an actual alien unfamiliar with the humans’ ways. I’ve mostly just been lurking on what looks like the equivalent of twitter, and chat forums which I thought were pretty much dead, but in this universe surprisingly alive.”

He’d been mostly bored if he was honest, it was nice to start to finally have a grasp on how the society functions to the point where he’d wandered out to the shop and got a snack without feeling significantly out of place. He’d even got tripped by a guy with some kind of lemur tail quirk by accident, and it’d been like someone accidentally stepping on the back of his shoe in a crowd, easy to brush off.

Danny wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed it, but he was actually looking forwards to finally going to school just to break up the monotony of the day. Maybe he was just going stir crazy talking only to Kirika. Or just stir crazy in general.

They’d agreed that it would probably be best for him not to abuse his ghost powers. Kirika had said that it was slightly weird while trying to pass off his powers as a quirk, for him to use his powers in both forms, so she’d told him to either only use them while transformed or to not transform. Danny really did not like the idea of being able to only use them while transformed, so he would be working on strengthening the powers without being transformed.

His powers when in his human form were always just a tad bit harder to pull off, more tiring and required more concentration unless he’d practised at it. The only powers he’d perfected in using in human form was flying and telekinesis. When he wasn’t moving places though, the flying was really more like floating and generally felt like the most natural way to be. He’d often just float in his room when he knew his parents were busy or out, and his telekinesis was practised because it usually was the easy way to do things.

In a way, the restriction might help him pass his powers off as a quirk, they generally seemed a lot more limited than Danny would have thought they’d be, but considering they were something people were born with it made sense. Nature wasn’t exactly be kind to those that had to evolve, what with the survival of the fittest and what not.

“There isn’t a chance that you’ve made a breakthrough in the ‘Force Locksley to Give Me My Quirk Back’ plan?”

Danny slumped. “No,” he grumbled. “I don’t have the same information network you have access to, and I’ve never done something like this before. All my enemies knew where I slept, and if they wanted to catch me, I’d punch them, capture them and have maybe a day of peace. I’ve never gone after them, so plotting coercion, believe it or not, is probably out of my range of abilities. At this point, I kind of want to talk to the heroes about our encounter just to give them some kind of lead and deal with him for us.”

“But that would lead to my arrest and without my quirk I wouldn’t be able to get out, and who knows what’d happen to you, I don’t know if you’ve read up about it yet but the Hero Commission has done some shady stuff, if they found out you’re from another universe, I have no idea what they’ll want to do.”

Danny considered it. He’d read a few things about the Hero Public Safety Commission, he’d naturally distrusted it. He’d always gotten bad vibes from politicians, they usually acted more in their own interests than the publics’, and it apparently translated over to this world too. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that the government would deem him something to investigate or treat as a prisoner. He wasn’t even all that sure if he had any legal rights, considering he wasn’t technically a citizen of any country in this universe.

They were in an impossible situation. They likely only had one shot to be able to easily get to Locksley, the moment he realised what their goal would be, all his defences would be up and make it significantly harder. At the moment, they thought that they were just on the run, fleeing because they knew that getting the quirk back would be impossible.

Danny did not half-survive death itself just to protect his friends, for him to wind up trapped in an alternate universe with no way home and resign himself to living out the rest of his days here. Even if it took him ten years, he would find his way back to them, that he would make sure of.

“We’ll figure it out.” He said with confidence. “And Locksley won’t know what hit him.”

[Chapter 4]

[oc vibe board]

#danny phantom fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #danny phantom #my hero academia #dp / mha crossover #locked out

41 notes · View notes

kiyosamu · 3 years

Text

painful reminders

(part 1/3)

——— ♡ ———

pairing: suna rintaro x female reader

genre: angst to comfort

cw: brief mentions and descriptions of assault (not from suna, not domestic violence), reader experiences post-traumatic stress, panic, anxiety

——— ♡ ———

“hey, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

the words echoed in your mind for a few seconds too long. you were hardly able to register their meaning while under the influence of your deep fear. you felt nothing but dread; impending pain and horror that you were sure was coming at any moment.

——— ♡ ———

suna slumped his body on the window of the train, trying to contort his larger than average build into a position comfortable enough to get a few moments of rest before arriving at his stop.

“attention passengers. there is a situation and we need to make an emergency stop at the next station. please gather your belongings and file out of the train as soon as we arrive.”

weird, he thought. must be another petty robbery. maybe someone refusing to get off of the tracks, or something exciting, like a mass murderer.

suna caught himself just as he had the thought, stopping his process immediately.

he shook his head, unimpressed at his ability to appear removed and disinterested no matter the situation. not to mention the scenarios running through his mind; scenarios that would terrify any sane person with an ounce of emotion no matter who they were.

suna scoffed and sat up to grab his bag.

of course, he knew it was nothing like that. that’s probably why he didn’t stay in his head and scare himself with anything further. why bother upsetting yourself by simply letting your mind run away from you? stupid, he thought. he never understood overthinkers. not only was it not productive, but it was exhausting.

thankfully, this station was only about a ten minute walk from the next, the one he was supposed to get off at. even though he was coming home from a tiring practice, the athlete never seemed to run out of stamina.

suna squinted as bright blue and red lights lit up the dark streets. rain began to pour and suna cursed his odds. the forecast predicted only a 10% chance of rain, and he just so happened to be getting caught in that unlucky percentage when he had to walk even further just to get back home.

he groaned and pushed his hair out of his face. the rain soaked his clothes, his sweatpants and shirt clinging to his body. suna felt disgusting and suddenly the thought of a hot shower was even more appealing than the leftover onigiri he had waiting in his fridge.

just as another thought of self pity was about to cross his mind, another police car flew by him.

must be pretty bad, wonder what happened..

that thought was as far as his curiosity went. if it was major, he’d probably hear about it on the news or in the paper. if not, well, it really was none of his business.

as he turned down the next street, he saw four police cars all blocking off the station. police tape sectioned off the area and officers stood with their arms crossed and chests pushed out as other vehicles pulled in.

he blinked a few times, taking in the scene for a second before realizing he’d stopped walking. suna brought himself back to reality and stared at the ground with his hands in his pockets. while he was shamelessly nosy as a teenager, he’d grown into quite the reserved young adult who knew how to mind his business.

unfortunately, that new trait flew out the window the second he heard a familiar voice.

——— ♡ ———

“officer, please. he said he’d come back for me, i don’t feel safe going home… i don’t have family here, i don’t have anywhere else to stay-“

“look. you’re just scared, but you’re not injured.” the man stared down at you with an emotionless glare. “there’s nothing more we can do for you. the suspect assaulted two other women and they’re cooperating. why are you asking us for more when we’ve done everything we can so far?”

his voice was as cold as your quickly declining temperature, the rain soaking through your t-shirt and causing you to shiver.

“he.. he held a knife to my throat. there’s-“ you lifted your hand to lightly trace the marks on your neck that had been squeezed in place only an hour before. “he said he was going to kill me but…” you trailed off, the night’s events playing over and over in your mind with no indication of stopping the endless repeat. “but then he saw the lights and ran. he said he’d be back for me…”

the officer sighed.

“criminals often utter threats to make their victims submit to their words and give in. they want to commit their crimes as quickly as possible. we’ve gone over this, you didn’t know him. he doesn’t know anything about you-“

“but what if he does?!” you shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks before you’d even realized you were crying.

“listen ma’am, you need to calm down-“ the officer grabbed your wrist and you ripped it away from him, covering your mouth and staring in disbelief at the officer. you were in shock. you couldn’t process what was going on, let alone what had happened. you didn’t know what to do.

you froze as you felt an arm around your shoulder. a familiar voice spoke your name with tenderness and a low, empathetic tone that you’d never heard from him.

“i’ll take her home, officer. she’s my neighbour.”

while that was true, you were still surprised at the gesture. rintaro suna had been your neighbour for 3 years. the two of you were friendly; you’d been to each other’s homes a handful of times and sometimes would share a meal or drop off some food that was too much for one person.

you were both single, living alone in your apartments. although you weren’t super close, you always felt like he was a friend. a slightly distant, reserved, quiet friend, but a friend nonetheless.

the two men exchanged words for what felt like an eternity before suna squeezed you closer to him, guiding you out of the area and walking you towards your apartment.

you opened your mouth to say something. anything. even just a greeting, a thank you for the escort home.

when you stopped walking, he stayed close to you and looked down at your expression.

you opened your mouth to say something but the moment you did, you relived the traumatizing situation once again and fell into a deep panic.

“i-i-… no-n..” your words broke as you felt your body shaking. the cold rain was doing nothing to help your condition, and if you could describe it in any way, it was like losing control of your own sanity. you felt the panic wash over you as the phantom pressure of the knife pressed against your windpipe - your mind quite literally putting you in a choke hold.

“hey. i’m here now, you’re safe.”

suna wrapped his arms around you protectively. he didn’t know why, he didn’t even really know what was going on, but he knew that all he wanted to do in that moment was to prevent anything further from hurting you.

you clutched at his hand and dug your nails into his skin. you didn’t mean to, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. suna would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but he ignored it and held you close against him until you felt like you were okay to walk again.

when you caught your breath, you pulled his hand away from your face.

“i’m sorry… i don’t know what happened.” you choked out.

“you had a panic attack.” he said quietly. “we don’t need to talk about anything right now, though, okay? let me get you home. you went through something horrible and you’re freezing cold. it’s just a little more up the road, can you make it?”

you nodded, dropping your hands to your side and suna instinctively held onto the one closest to him.

“i’m scared to stay in my apartment… alone…” you whispered.

“you can stay with me.” suna said this with more certainty than suggestion. if anything, it was a statement. he was planning on having you stay over or even him staying at yours. whatever worked, he just didn’t want you to be alone and he knew you had nobody else to call.

he had never planned to get involved in your personal business like this. he didn’t want to be the weird neighbour, and he already worried if bringing you food some nights would make you uncomfortable.

those thoughts were always put to rest whenever you smiled at him and graciously accepted his gestures. your warm smile and the way your cheeks made your eyes squint when you were really happy was an image he’d always have trouble shaking out of his head for the following days.

suna snuck a glance at you as the two of you started to walk again. your smile that he swore could light up an entire city was nowhere to be seen.

he would do anything to see that smile on your face right now.

you looked like a shell of what you once were. he knew that you’d experienced something traumatic, but seeing you like this made him feel something hard in his chest.

you didn’t deserve that.

a painful squeeze developed deep inside him when he thought of what your face must have looked like when it had happened. a sweet girl who seemed to always bring out the bright side in any situation. you’d made him sweets (that he secretly broke his athletic diet for) when he’d lost an important game, and always made him smile whenever he saw you.

it was different right now. he felt anxious. he squeezed your hand in his and you didn’t even flinch, didn’t even seem to notice as you looked ahead with a blank stare.

on the other end, his touch alone was enough to give you the tiniest bit of comfort. it wasn’t much, and you were still scared, but it was enough to get you home.

——— ♡ ———

part 1 | part 2 (in progress) | part 3 (in progress)

139 notes · View notes

illumilu · 3 years

Text

“there’s only one bed” - chrollo lucilfer x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe is heavily underappreciated. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. for the last part, we’re taking a look at chrollo lucilfer! also! this may suck!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with chrollo, your childhood friend and colleague, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part three of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka and illumi are already written so i suppose that concludes the series!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! chrollo being his usual self, charming but kinda dead ,,, except this time he’s not using you (cough neon nostrade) ... no nsfw :)

chrollo lucilfer:

- chrollo lucilfer was an undeniably enticing man.

- you two had just exited the train station, and were now walking to your hotel.

- why had this trip been planned? well, chrollo had bought reservations, claiming he “had something private to say” one night. honestly, he made you nervous sometimes. just what you expected from the leader of an internationally renowned murder gang.

- the refreshing cold air chilled your face, as you walked along the damp pavement. the large, multistory hotel loomed in the distance, like an upright torch in a sea of gray. you turned to look at chrollo.

- “it’s cold, isn’t it?”

- “astounding observation.” he smiled audaciously.

- growing up alongside them hadn’t been easy for you; after all, meteor city was dilapidated. after leaving the place, you had found the estimated population to be around 8 million people. funnily enough, it had never felt like that many.

- you still remembered the day chrollo had formed the phantom troupe. you had watched as he set out the rules standing proudly on the trash-pile; as he described the metaphorical spider and its immortality.

- personally, you hated spiders. too many legs.

- either way, you stayed there, listening, observing - you had seen them running around the city before, laughing and playing together. how could people be so happy in such an obscure place?

- meteor city; it was almost... suffocating. the fact that no one acknowledged the residents, even as a collective percentage, chilled you to your core. you wanted to be known. you guessed that was why you were still alongside chrollo today.

- you supposed the only way to get through the maddening sense of compression was with friendship. alas, you didn’t really have many friends. it was always hard to find them. therefore, you would check to see what chrollo’s group were doing together, but would never join unless invited.

- that fateful night, the ignition of the troupe; truly a day to remember.

- as soon as you had turned around from behind some abandoned trash, chrollo had slowly turned to look at you. you had been listening as he mused about the phantom troupe’s intentions. he had personally seen you around the junkyard many times. always watching. waiting for something? no, just observing. here you were, eyes on him, yet again.

- a pause. you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. but it wasn’t humiliating; it was exhilarating.

- you still remembered the way you had cursed yourself for thinking like that. why had you come out from your hiding place? you didn’t want anything to do with this group; killing people, stealing things, wandering astray from the path of morality... what was this?

- “did you hear everything?” he had asked.

- “yes.” you whispered.

- your eyes lifted to meet his. you knew almost nothing of where that day would eventually lead you. you shared a long stare that night, almost childish, waiting for him to say something. you could swear his eyes were boring into your soul.

- “you don’t want to join, do you?”

- you gulped and looked at the dirt beneath you.

- “no.”

- things had changed since then.

- you had never did end up joining the phantom troupe. it was too chaotic for you. but, you did end up sticking around and, somehow, you came to know each of the troupe members extremely well.

- whenever they’d rendezvous and cause destruction, you’d always be there, observing from the sidelines. chrollo liked to call it your “unofficial bond”. having spent a lot of your time with the interchanging 13, you knew their likes and dislikes, and often helped them out when they couldn’t get information. for some reason, you felt as if chrollo trusted you with this greatly.

- rarely, you got to spend time with him alone. you two were undoubtedly closer than any other pairs from the troupe, yet it was more of an unspoken connection than a full-blown one. compared to, let’s say, nobunaga and uvogin, and no one would have even speculated chrollo and you being as close.

- nevertheless, you loved when you got to spend time with him; whenever he loosened his idiotic “i’m the leader and we’re going to kill hundreds of people now!” demeanor, he was actually quite the gentleman.

- back to the present, you scoffed and continued walking; each breath made a little cloud in front of you, making you grin a little. when you were younger, you had always pretended to smoke whenever it was cold enough for it to happen.

- “you’re such a child.” chrollo said, adjusting his beige headband. you often wondered why he decided to get a tattoo on his forehead. troupe matters, you supposed. finally reaching the grand entrance to the hotel, chrollo pushed the gold revolving door, with an ironic “after you” look. you went through hastily, raising an eyebrow at him on the way in.

- the lobby was truly extravagant, full of grandeur that you had never seen before. you could only begin to fathom how much money the troupe got from stealing.

- honestly, you really felt like smacking chrollo. what right did he have to take you to such a huge place? with his own laundered money? that he probably earned from making someone else’s life hell? you opened your mouth to protest. he promptly interrupted you.

- “be quiet, y/n. you know have money to spend, so why shouldn’t i spend it on you? just this once?”

- that was a lie. he knew he would definitely do something like this again.

- your mouth closed, knowing the same thing. you sighed momentarily and went off to sit on a weirdly smooth velvet couch in the lobby.

- while absentmindedly checking in, chrollo began thinking about what exactly he was going to say to you. truthfully, there was no real reason for him bringing you here, to the hotel. it was just, lately, he had been feeling strangely drawn to you. you had a certain warm magnetism that contrasted his philosophical coldness. whenever you sat together, he felt some sort of strange exaltation, just by looking at you. whenever you smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back. he had also become considerably happier.

- “wow, boss~ you seem jokier these days~”

- the thought of hisoka made him wince, driving him back to the clerk in front of him.

- as he stared back at you, who was currently trying to figure out whether you could take the hotel magazines for free, he closed his eyes and let out a light breath.

- you jolted as chrollo stood before you, tapping you on the shoulder. loosening your grip on the cheap magazine, you glared at him.

- “keys.” he said, dangling them above you.

- “chrollo. don’t tell anyone. but i think have a plan.”

- “what? y/n, y-”

- you grinned, grabbed the keys and started towards the stair doors, yanking chrollo’s sleeve along with you. he ran behind you, making quite the commotion as you two thundered up the switchback stairs, shoes scuffing along the floor. through ragged breaths and giggles, he asked you why in god’s name you were going so fast.

- stopping abruptly to catch your breath, you told him to look at your hands, with an impish look on your face.

- the hotel magazine, crumpled in your hands.

- he furrowed his brow at you, laughing confusedly at your antics. you often helped him unwind with your spontaneous, stupid acts, and he was grateful for it. chrollo was someone who didn’t recognize how much they needed a break until they got one. he truly enjoyed how you just treated him as a normal person. since you weren’t part of the troupe, he wasn’t your “boss”. he supposed he was your... friend.

- you slowly made your way up to the room with him. despite him being unnervingly annoying sometimes, you enjoyed every moment with chrollo. every look you shared with him, every joke you had made.

- even when he was being serious you couldn’t help but admire his twisted resolve. often, you’d brush hands and sparks of ecstasy would rush to your heart. you guessed that was what happened when people were close. but what was “close”? you often found yourself mulling over the classifications of love, even if it wasn’t specifically about him. of course, you could love someone as a friend; what was romance, anyways?

- if there was one thing you had in common with chrollo, it was your interest in human emotion.

- chrollo had always been fascinated by the human psyche; so much so that it seemed like he knew what people were about to say before they even uttered a word. he too found himself musing over love; occasionally, you two would sit together and debate where each emotion stemmed from.

- however, no matter how equal you were, chrollo could always predict what you were about to say, never vice versa. he chalked it down to knowledge and experience, yet he found it ironic that emotions were his interest. he speculated the reason for it, and once, very wisely, said that “humans are always interested in what they do not have.”

- you reached the room fairly quickly, roused from the race up the stairs. half of you had already forgotten about what chrollo “wanted to tell you”; he opened the door and walked in first.

- “hey, wait out here for a second, i have a surprise.” he said, closing the door so it was only jarred open a little.

- nodding, you turned around, waiting in the lit hallway.

- chrollo turned to look at the room.

- wait.

- shit.

- a singular queen-sized bed stood in the middle of the room.

- chrollo blinked.

- he could have sworn he asked for two twin beds. blinking a few more times, beginning to sweat a little, he jolted as your voice came from the door; “chrollo, is it ready?”

- “no, not yet, stay there!” he shouted, pacing towards the hotel phone, frantically dialling room service.

- “hello?”

- “good evening. how may we help you?”

- “yeah, uh, so you see, i’m in room 444 and i definitely, most certainly booked two beds, not one - would you mind checking?”

- “no problem! it says here that you booked one queen sized bed, with two reservations. are you sure you didn’t misclick? perhaps the room was booked by someone else?”

- suddenly, chrollo remembered; shalnark did all his computer work. that bloody, meddling... no, he shouldn’t say that. he had nothing but gratitude for all the troupe members. some were very, very, very difficult to like, however.

- “are there any spare rooms around?”

- “yes, of course! but moving will cost around-”

- “chrollo?” you interrupted, peeking around the doorframe.

- you blinked.

- the bed was... larger... and more... singular than expected.

- “y/n! there’s been a mistake... just; bear with me, okay? everything will be fine. i just need to pay a-”

- darting to where he was, you grabbed the phone and slammed it back onto the receiver. you grabbed chrollo by the shoulders, shaking him violently (rather dramatically, too).

- “what do you think you’re doing? i tell you to stop spending money on me, and here you are, spending the money you got from murdering people?”

- you did not like the idea of sleeping in the same bed as chrollo one bit. however, you hated the idea of having him use his dark money on you way more. here he was, about to spend it on a simple matter. the persistent bastard.

- “whatever you say.” he murmured.

- “look, just think of it as a fun sleepover. no need for things to be awkward.”

- you were right. nothing would happen. childish as you were together, both of you knew boundaries. despite the recent appeal you had to him, he knew that your comfort was more important than anything.

- both agreeing to get some sleep, you changed into more comfy clothes and met back at the bed.

- something you often overlooked was how pretty chrollo was. grayish-brown pupils that, to the gullible eye, seemed neutral and boring, but to you seemed like a world of wonder and speculation. his eyelashes seemed almost delicate, unaware of how beautiful they were. his lips always looked cold, with a reddish tinge, yet somehow fit harmoniously with the rest of his features. it was no secret that his muscles were extremely defined, as you had seen whenever he wore his coat. somehow, his skin was smooth and pale all over, not comparable to porcelain, but better; it had the duality to glow with pride or to appear a solemn gray. his hands were almost never without a book, yet when they were occupied with something else, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his elegant fingers. his hair, admittedly odd when slicked back, wisped across his face, fluffy as always. your eyes riveted on his.

- “what did you want to tell me?”

- shit. in the heat of all the issues, he had forgotten to think of something.

- what did he want to tell you? everything about himself, honestly. who he was, what he wished to do, his own personality, his philosophies. the dilemma was, he did not know himself.

- who am i?

- the pressing question that bugged him so, that tugged at his sleeve like a child he wished he could ignore. the word that fit chrollo best was, “enigma”. he truly wanted to find himself, but what did that even mean? he spent his life growing from nothing, becoming nothing and, despite having the largest reputation in the world, still feeling like nothing. yet, it was something that was locked within you that opened him. the buzz of emotion he had felt from you; that had been something. pride and happiness were good, all in all, but you defined him. you gave him something to live for. of course, chrollo still stood by death as if it was an old companion, but some tiny part of him would feel remorse if he ever died. remorse for leaving you behind. that had never happened with anyone else. the closer he became to you, the more he had a meaning. he contemplated; were you his meaning? two souls meant to be intertwined?

- “y/n.”

- “hm?”

- “love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. do you know who wrote this?”

- a silence met the air.

- “it was william shakespeare. a midsummer night’s dream.” he continued. “yet i wonder, what would one do if they had no mind? if love looks with the mind, yet had nowhere to look from, how would it see?”

- somewhere within you, you sensed he was talking about something very relevant.

- love would find a way. it would shoot from every outlet it could, from one soul to another; love would find a way to reach someone. conscienceless or aware, love would perpetuate through every single molecule left in someone’s resolve. two ribbons that were meant to find each other would undoubtedly find each other if they their love was strong enough. that is what you thought as you sat there with him, mutually mulling over the question.

- “i think it would find a way, wouldn’t it?” you said.

- “probably so.”

- “that was random, chrollo?” you questioned after a few still moments.

- “i suppose so... i miss times where we talked about the philosophies of the mind.”

- you nodded. you missed them too, even though they were frequent. you yawned tiredly; it was getting late. chrollo advised you to get some rest, which you quickly heeded. slowly, you headed to the left side of the bed. he took the right.

- “do you mind if i turn off the light?”

- “i think i’ll read for a while.” he smiled. typical.

- you turned to your side, dreams of the awaiting night already outstretching their comforting arms. eventually, you slipped into a peaceful sleep.

- chrollo cocked his head to the side to look at you. he watched your chest rise and fall for a few seconds, before promptly returning to his book. 1984 by george orwell. his eyes skimmed over the page, blurred names and metaphors flying indifferently past his eyes; he wished to find the quote that resonated with him every time he had previously read it.

- bingo.

- “if you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.”

- chrollo had everything to give to you; yet you did not enjoy any of it. he found that you seemed happiest when you just sat together with him, ruminating, or joking or just sitting there in silence. perhaps the only thing he hadn’t tried was the simplest; the most human. maybe the answer to his infatuation with you was right in front of him.

- a few minutes later, he thought it would be best to sleep. closing the lights, he lay there quietly, falling into a passage of thoughts that soon turned sleepy and incoherent.

- the night passed.

- when morning came, things, once again, were different.

- chrollo was the first to wake up; fluttering his eyelashes, he soon became fully aware of his situation.

- he was on the other side of the bed.

- something was clinging to him.

- chrollo was clinging back.

- oh my god. he felt your arm wrapped low around his waist, with his doing the exact same around yours. almost like... you were mirroring each other. it was like you were hugging, except, when he looked down, you were still fast asleep.

- shit. this was weird.

- what did he do? he couldn’t just wake you up and cause a commotion; it was him who had thought “nothing would happen”.

- so much for a goddamned “sleepover”.

- your head was buried in the crook of his chin, so you were cuddling into his chest; the bed had been long enough for you to shuffle down and start hugging him? not to mention, somewhere in the night, you had entirely switched places.

- he couldn’t exactly get up to roll you away, either.

- what a conundrum. silently and rather awkwardly, he waited, still embracing you. this definitely made things exponentially more complicated than they needed to be.

- after around 10 minutes of waiting, you began to stir a little.

- blinking a few times to clear your vision, you murmured something unintelligible.

- chrollo, about to pull the biggest bastard move of the century, shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

- what a jackass.

- pushing away from his body, you stared at him, taking a few moments to register the situation.

- and so, your internal panic monologue began, rapid as ever.

- why the SHIT were you in chrollo’s arms not less than 5 seconds ago? and why had it felt undeniably cosy??? did you hug him? did he hug you? of course he was still sleeping. maybe he wouldn’t get to know. why were you on the other side of the bed? did anything happen? no, you would have remembered. you couldn’t roll him over, either. what the shit.

- chrollo inconspicuously pretended to wake up, theatrical fake blinking and all.

- “oh.” he stated blankly.

- you scrunched your face; that was the only thing he could say? meanwhile your soul was rapidly disintegrating?

- “chrollo, i have no idea how that-”

- “certainly interesting.” he interrupted.

- the best decision was to leave it. right?

- “huh? what? looooook... i think i’m going to go change...” you said, suppressing your fluctuating heartbeat.

- chrollo sat up, nodding.

- as you left, you began speculating what to do; because you definitely couldn’t ignore this. when you woke up, you had felt safer, more comfortable. why was that? as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t drop the feeling that chrollo and you were something more than friends.

- chrollo, still on the bed, mulled over the various quotes and lines he had picked up. he ruminated over fond memories with you, and that buzzing feeling from earlier. he noticed it had skyrocketed. he felt... meaningful. bottling up his feelings wouldn’t do any good, would it? he had to say something. but it was dangerous. getting into matters like this may get in the way of the troupe. was it worth it? somewhere, he felt as if he already knew. this matter wasn’t exactly trivial. so, would he do it or not?

- subconsciously reaching for 1984 once more, he flicked past the cover and turned to a well-loved page of his.

- “at the sight of the words, “i love you”, the desire to stay alive had welled up in him, and the taking of minor risks suddenly seemed stupid.”

- as people usually do at urgent times such as these, he realized what had to be done.

- let’s just say; chrollo’s library began to harbor a lot more romance.

dear reader, i sincerely sincerely apologize if ur here rn. i wrote a wholeass 3554 words and i dont want people wasting their time LMFAO, this was so dumb?? i am SO SO sorry for being inactive for weeks, i’ve had exams, but i kind of felt obligated to finish off this series. which once again. i am so sorry for. this one felt even MORE tedious than the illumi one. i feel like the characterization was poor, even though i tried ,,, but i guess we all take Ls. i’m gonna just let this one be chalked down to my sleep deprivation and hopefully(?) continue writing. thx <3

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

338 notes · View notes

btsmosphere · 3 years

Text

Across the Tracks | KTH

~summary: Don’t cross the tracks. Never once did you question what you had been told your whole life – at least not until a certain boy makes that a bit more difficult...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | drabble

~pairing: taehyung x reader (she/her) ~word count: 7.3k ~dystopian au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, inspired by lady and the tramp ~rating: pg15 ~warnings: adoption, dystopia, fictional slur, violence, arrest, police brutality, car accidents, near death, swearing

~a/n: the finale has arriiived!! I can’t thank you guys enough for the wonderful comments this series has got, it means so much to me! Please come chat with me about the last chapter🥰and enjoy.. xx

Light streamed into your eyes with the click of the van door opening, but that wasn’t what you flinched back from. It was futile to try and escape the controllers grasp though, and you were soon being tugged out and towards the front gate of a large, grey building.

On the short journey, you had managed to control your tears and your shaking, but your knees felt weak again as you stared up at the looming building.

Your eyes hadn’t even roamed its whole front when a beeping sounded, large black doors grating open before the entrance swallowed you whole.

Taehyung’s fingers trailed over the small metal barriers around every tree he passed. Who put fences around trees?

Huffing, he whirled around for the fifteenth time, ignoring the ache growing in his feet. Surely he should be near your area soon? The problem was, all the houses over here looked the same. Same neat lawns, same cute little window boxes, same front doors-

And a man leaving his front door. Someone he recognised.

“Hey!”

The guy started, alarm taking over his features as he saw the ragged boy barrelling towards him.

“Aren’t you-“ Seokjin spoke as Taehyung slowed in front of him, “what are you doing here? Stay away!”

“Listen-“ Tae panted, holding up his hands, “it’s about Y/N.”

Clattering shut behind you, the door remained steadfast in the face of your pleas.

“I have papers, I promise! I’m adopted by a Mr and Mrs-“

“Spare us the story, we’ll see what happens when we look up your name in the system,” the controller cut you off, not even looking your way as the key clanked in the lock.

“No-“ you clutched at the bars, “they gave me this – mother and father – when I got my papers. I’m not lying!”

Fishing your bracelet, the symbol of your adoption, from your pocket, you held it up-

Only for it to be snatched straight from your fingers. Yelping, you lunged for it back, but the controller held it out of reach.

“Might as well just admit to stealing this,” they smirked, “sentence is the same for strays either way.”

Words could barely form as you gaped, outraged.

“S-stealing?!” you spluttered, “but- that’s mine!”

“Sure it is.”

Losing the patience to hear you out, the controller was already walking away, your bracelet slipping into their pocket.

Jaw slack in disbelief, you stayed on the spot even as they left your line of sight. It wasn’t until the sting in your eyes became unbearable, vision fuzzing, that you clamped your mouth shut to bite down on your lip.

Slowly, you turned inwards to face the rest of the cell.

The other residents looked as shocked as you, staring back.

Hurriedly blinking, you were surprised to find you recognised some of them.

Voice cautious, Namjoon stepped towards you first.

“Y/N?”

“Namjoon?” you whispered, not trusting your voice at a higher volume, “what are you doing here?”

Looking around him, you found the mysterious Yoongi eyeing you. Beside him stood Jimin, with a boy you didn’t recognise.

“They caught onto us stealing the medical supplies,” Namjoon sighed heavily, wandering the few paces to the edge of the cell as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry…” you winced.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, looking around, “looks like they had a field day today, half the city’s in here.”

“Our half of the city,” Yoongi spoke drily for the first time.

“But what can everyone have done so wrong?” you frowned. Turning around, even among only those cells that were visible from here, you could easily see they were as packed as yours.

“Exist.”

The small voice came from the boy you hadn’t met.

“This is Jungkook,” Jimin nodded to you, “he was… staying at the restaurant with me. They found out.”

At your puzzled look, he sighed.

“They don’t take too kindly to anyone not paying rent. Any strays,” Jimin scowled darkly.

Pressing your lips together, you were at a loss with what to say. Silence falling stiffly over the group of you again, Jimin sat back onto the small bench fixed to the wall. Following suit, you sunk with your back against the bars, lungs deflating.

“It’s alright,” Namjoon’s hand landed on your shoulder, sending a grimace your way, “we’ve all been in here at some point. Well, all except one,” he added with a chuckle.

“…who?” you enquired.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi chipped in.

“Oh.” You cast your eyes down.

“Wasn’t he with you?” Jimin frowned.

You grimaced.

“Yeah, he was… but I- I lost him.”

“Just like him,” Jimin chuckled. Despite his mirth, you were only confused. “I thought something might be different this time,” he carried on, “but I guess some never change.”

“What are you talking about?” you insisted.

“Well…” Yoongi slid down where he sat, scratching at his ear, “don’t take this the wrong way, but Tae often has girls around, if you catch my drift. I thought you’d know that.”

He looked genuinely curious, tilting his head in the face of your bafflement.

“No.” you spoke. “I had no idea.”

Seokjin had been staring at him wordlessly for a disconcertingly long time. Taehyung was about to open his mouth again when the other man exploded, arms flying as he yelled, making Tae jump back.

“You did WHAT? HOW- HOW DARE YOU?! YOU JUST LEFT HER-“

“I never meant to!”

“-you should have brought her STRAIGHT BACK HERE-“

“She can choose what she wants to do!”

“She should have stayed well away from you! I can’t believe y- I hope you’re happy now-“

“Of course I’m not!” Taehyung pleaded, “just – please – just get her family to call the station and get her out of there.”

Seokjin’s ears were practically glowing red, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily.

“I will,” he snapped, “but you had better stay away from now on, okay? You’re nothing but trouble.”

Taehyung chewed at the inside of his cheek, heart sinking. Eventually he lowered his head, nodding.

“I will.”

“Are you really licensed, though?” Jungkook asked, steering the conversation back to safer territory after the earlier revelation.

You nodded mutely.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, then,” Namjoon assured you, “they’ll see it on the system and have your family pick you up.”

“What about you?” you looked up then, at all of them.

Exchanging glances with the others, Jimin was the one to reply.

“We’ll figure out something. Maybe if Taehyung wants to show his face sometime, we’ll get out-“

Cutting himself off mid-giggle, he seemed to realise the risky topic he had just breached again. Nonetheless, it peaked your interest.

“Why would Taehyung help?”

“He knows every trick in the book,” Yoongi scoffed, “always manages to get away. Saved us from a lot of trouble, too.”

Simply nodding, you returned your gaze to the floor again when a sharp blow knocked you forwards.

Righting yourself hastily, you found the controller from earlier unlocking the door and throwing it open.

“Miss L/N, we found your file, follow me.”

Startled, it took you a moment before you kicked your body into action, stiffly standing with one more look back at the others. As the bars closed, this time separating you from them, you could only offer them a grimace and a small wave as you were led away.

But soon enough, you were occupied with different concerns.

At the end of the corridor, Sarah was waiting for you. Glaring at you from the moment you came into view, her severe expression twisted your stomach with dread. You forced yourself to keep walking, despite your legs protesting as if you were wading through treacle to meet your fate.

Piercing eyes trained on you to the last moment, she finally turned on her heel, nodding briefly to the controller before walking away. Hurrying to follow, your heart jittered at her silence. You knew you were still in trouble.

Huge globs of water spattered harshly against the windows of the summer house. This small building in your garden wasn’t built for the cold, and if you thought you had had it bad in the back room, it was ten times worse locked up in here.

All you could do was huddle away from the rattling windows and bunch the thin blanket around your shoulders as a meagre shield against the wind. Rubbing your fingers together despite the fact feeling was rapidly draining from them, you stared out into the darkness between you and your house.

The lights streaming from the windows looked so warm, you could almost imagine some phantom of heat wrapping itself around you.

But in the jumble of other thoughts in your head, you couldn’t focus and it would soon fade.

Jostling the blanket around you once again, you were alerted to a movement at the side of your house. Sitting straighter, you squinted into the night as two shapes grew closer.

A breath left you as you recognised them.

Rushing forwards and letting the blanket flutter onto your makeshift bed, you dropped to your knees in front of a window. The door was locked, but the windows would crack open a few inches. Following your lead, Jin and Hoseok sat down cross-legged on the porch, pushing down the hoods of the coats they were wearing.

You knew Sarah had left the key hanging from the doorknob, but it would be best to leave it locked so as not to risk any more punishments.

Through the raindrops clinging to the glass, you could see the cautious looks on their faces, sympathetic smiles as they tried to look reassuring.

“Y/N, aren’t you cold in there?” Hoseok frowned.

“It’s not too bad,” you lied, “thanks for coming to see me.”

At the sight of your friends, an unexpected lump was welling up in your throat and you surreptitiously swiped at your eyes.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry about what happened,” Jin was saying, “but it wasn’t your fault. They shouldn’t be keeping you out here.”

“When mother and father come back, it should be okay,” you sighed. Folding your arms against the windowsill, you rested your cheek on them.

“Well, if you want to come and stay with one of us, I’m sure you’d be very welcome,” Jin assured, “even if it’s just until then. You know how my parents are fond of you.”

Hoseok nodded vigorously.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly, “I’ll have to think about it. Just- so much happened, and I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore.”

“That’s understandable,” Jin smiled, looking like he didn’t understand at all.

“At least you have a story to tell!” Hoseok changed tack, and you couldn’t stop yourself smiling, dry laugh falling from your lips.

“Yeah, I got thrown in jail, I’m sure everyone would be thrilled to hear that,” you scoffed.

“It isn’t your fault,” Jin insisted, “I knew Taehyung was bad news…“

You stayed silent, biting your lip. Though you knew you shouldn’t, you almost wanted to defend him. He had changed your entire view of where you were, opened your eyes on the short adventure.

The conversation swiftly moved on, your friends dancing around your ordeal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by it. Talking to them brought some comfort, some familiarity that you needed right now.

Eventually, the night had worn colder and you insisted that they get home, especially considering Hoseok was practically falling asleep on Jin’s shoulder.

Giving a small wave as best you could through the minute gap in the window, you watched them stand up and leave, huddling under their coats again to step out into the rain. But barely three paces away, they stopped again.

With a frown, you sat up, trying to make out what was going on from their illuminated silhouettes. It was then that you could make out the shape of another person.

Even obscured as he was by your friends standing between you, it was clearly Taehyung. Your chest felt tight, not knowing what to feel on seeing him again. There was an undercurrent as you looked at him, some bitterness knowing what you did now.

But you wanted to see him again.

“Taehyung?” you called.

The three men all spun to look at you. With a glance between them, Hoseok and Jin started warily forwards to within earshot again. Hanging back, Taehyung waited with his hands folded, fingers fidgeting as he looked between each of you.

Hoseok fixed him with a glare while Jin walked right up to you, crouching so he could speak through the window, voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear.

“If you don’t want him here, Y/N, we can easily get rid of him.”

“No,” you shook your head firmly, “I want to talk to him. Thank you, though.”

Despite his uneasy look, he nodded slowly. Sharply inhaling, he turned back to Taehyung. Without a word, he led Hoseok away, although the two of them sent glares enough for Tae to turn his eyes down to his feet, bobbing his head to them.

When they reached the corner of your house, Tae deemed them far enough away to approach you.

Steeling yourself with a breath, you stayed in place as he pushed his hair out of his face. It was soaking wet, plastering itself to his forehead and sticking up in various directions after he slicked it back. His skin glistened with rain too, and he shook his head lightly to rid himself of some.

“Hey pidge…” he panted, finally sitting down opposite you.

“Hey,” you choked out.

“Listen,” he leaned his elbows on his knees, hands spread open, imploring you, “I’m really sorry for what happened. I thought you were right behind me, and when I saw that you weren’t… well…”

“Thank you for helping me before,” you kept your voice level, “and trying to get me back home, but-but being taken by the controllers-“

“But you’re back now!” his grin showed itself again, “they would never hurt a cute thing like you.”

“A ‘cute thing’ like me?!” you exclaimed, “Tae, I was so frightened! A-and what does it matter, when your friends are still in that awful place? Or do you not care as long as it’s not you in there?”

“Pidge, listen, they’ll be alright, it’s you I was worried about. I swear I never meant to lose you.”

“Like I said before,” you sniffed, “I appreciate you helping me. But if that’s all-“

“Pidge!”

You stared back at his desperate eyes through the flecks of rain on the glass. The ache in your heart wouldn’t let you break away from his wide, pleading eyes.

“Pidge, please,” he begged, shuffling closer, “don’t be like this. Don’t shut me out-“

“And why not?” you swallowed against your voice as it threatened to spill over in tears, “did any of it even mean anything to you?”

“What do you mean, pidge, of course I-“

“Your friends told me all about you. They said I was just another girl to chuck away-“

“No,” his palms pressed together, beseeching, “I’ve been with people before, that doesn’t make you any less special.”

When he broke off, you found no words to speak. Your mind was wrapping around itself as he let out a rough breath, raking a hand through his saturated hair.

When he fixed his eyes on you again, he held them intently.

“I know we’re from two different worlds, but… I didn’t want to let you go. I still don’t. You’re the first person I’ve wanted to chase so bad, and I just- I can’t accept letting you go so easily. I know things can be different, and I want them to be, pidge. I want to make it happen, and I want to make it happen with you.”

As his words washed over you, tears burned unbidden in your eyes. You could barely breathe as he spilled his heart out for you.

Letting his words hang between you once he stopped, he watched you for a reaction.

And you realised as you looked back that his eyes were filled for the first time with fear.

“Okay…” you breathed, cursing yourself at the first word to escape your mouth. Taehyung was still hanging on your every word, and he didn’t look too encouraged by that opener. You tried again. “I… want you too, Taehyung. But I don’t know how we can be together.”

You shared a sigh.

“That’s all I needed to hear, pidge.”

“But right now, I need some time,” you continued, ignoring the way your heart squeezed as his face fell, “and I think you should go.”

He gulped, but nodded, accepting his fate with downturned eyes.

“O-okay. I’ll… see you, then.”

As he stood up silently, you clamped your lower lip hard between your teeth. He walked slowly, but didn’t look back. As carefully as you could, you pulled the window shut, fingers now almost fully numb.

You couldn’t even lift yourself from the floor so you pushed yourself back and away from the window, watching him go with a growing weight in your chest.

He rounded the corner, out of sight, but you stayed where you were. Blankly staring across the garden, the dark stayed still for a short while, besides the rain still streaking through the air. At some point, Sarah’s children must have gone to sleep because the only light coming from the house was now from her bedroom.

A shape darted across the single ray of light.

Blinking, you shifted slightly, some stupid hope rousing within you that it was Taehyung. He hadn’t left very long ago – maybe he had come back?

But as you located the new person, to your alarm you found it wasn’t anyone you knew. In fact, they seemed to be utterly unaware of your presence as they jogged around the edge of the house, looking up at it, all the while clutching at a backpack slung over their shoulder.

Taken aback, you didn’t move for too long, simply watching as the person doubled back around the corner. Their hand was covering something tucked into a pocket.

It was when they stopped, both hands gripping the pipe that ran down the wall, that you finally found your feet.

Eyes widening, you crossed to the door of the summer house, bashing your palm against the window as the figure began to climb.

“Hey!” you yelled, but they only moved faster, looking around in alarm.

Not ceasing in your shouting, you hammered on the door intermittently with rattling the doorknob. Of course it didn’t give way, sending you further into panic, throwing your whole weight against the door when you saw the thief climb higher.

They had made it to the upstairs window. Your brother’s room.

Yelling with all your might now, you frantically bashed at the door. They were getting in! The window wasn’t locked, and the thief had no trouble lifting it open.

Just as they swung their first leg over the sill, footsteps thundered closer. In an instant, Taehyung stood in front of you, breathless.

“What’s going on?”

“A thief, a thief!” you shouted through the glass, pointing urgently at the window.

Spinning, Taehyung immediately found the threat.

“Shit- what do we- how do I-“

“The key!” you exclaimed, quickly hurrying on at his confused expression, “the key, it’s just there-“

While you struggled to point to the doorknob, Taehyung thankfully understood and quickly dived for it, shoving it into the lock. The moment it clicked open, you dashed out, not slowing once as you sprinted to your house.

The thief was now inside, and you wasted no time throwing the back door open, taking the stairs three at a time with Tae hot on your tail. Over the hammering of your feet down the hall, you could hear a crashing from your brother’s room.

Without a second of hesitation, you were inside, luckily finding the thief throwing drawers across the floor in their hunt for whatever they wanted – nowhere near your brother.

Even so, you launched yourself at them, seeing their eyes widen as you crashed against them bodily, shoving them further from your brother. All the noise had woken him, and his screaming joined the ruckus at the same moment Tae joined your fight.

Catching the thief from behind, Tae pulled them backwards in a headlock, grunting as they struggled, face scrunched up.

Meanwhile, you were frantically trying to grab them, to stop their arm that was clawing at Tae.

But you had left yourself vulnerable. Before you could blink, the sole of a shoe booted firmly into your stomach, sending you backwards, lungs suddenly parched of air. Free of you now that you were gasping some distance away on the floor, your opponent dropped their weight, escaping Tae’s grip.

Grappling to tackle them again, Tae was too late to stop the thief turning around. But it wasn’t just fists he had to deal with now. Struggling up from the floor, trying to heave air into your lungs, you caught sight of a silver glint as the thief pulled it from their pocket.

“Tae!” you tried to yell, but could only manage a wheeze.

Instead, you settled for dashing towards them again, but you were too late. The knife escaped your grasp and Tae cried out in pain, the two tumbling to the floor, catching the curtain at the same time, fabric cascading over them as the rail crashed down.

Not giving up, you pulled at the attacker before they could raise the knife a second time, succeeding in dragging them backwards. But they used your momentum, throwing you off them and into the dresser, sending you sprawling with it onto the carpet.

You had no time to extricate yourself before your opponent was back at the window, only just evading a dive from Taehyung as they abandoned ship and fled.

Tripping over the dresser in your haste, you started towards Taehyung. You couldn’t help but notice the hand pressed to his thigh.

Only you never made it another step.

The crack of a gunshot cut through the air.

Instantly crouching, hands thrown over your head, you didn’t initially spot who had fired. The first place your eyes travelled was to Tae, also ducked down, but otherwise unharmed.

Whirling towards the door, your heart dropped through the floor at the sight that met you. Sarah stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind. And in her hand, the gun.

Open mouthed, you stepped forward as she crossed towards the crib, your brother’s wails having doubled in volume since she had fired.

“Get away from him!” you begged.

But her gun was trained on you, and all you could do was send panicked stares between Tae and your baby brother.

“Who are you?” Sarah’s voice was high, wavering wildly as she turned the gun to Tae.

“No!” you rushed forwards, only to be stopped again as the barrel locked onto you once more.

Eyes wide and nostrils flaring, Sarah looked between the two of you, frozen in the wreckage of the room.

“Don’t you know how dangerous these people are?” she hissed, spit flying from her quivering lips.

“No, Sarah- you don’t understand-“ you held your hands up, pleading.

She was having none of it. Marching forwards, you let out a whimper as the barrel pressed briefly against you before she had you in her grasp. Wrestling you back by your shoulder, the pistol’s aim returned to Tae as the distance between you grew.

“Get over there. Hands up,” Sarah spoke, voice calmer now she had Tae at the other end of a gun. Gesturing with it, she pointed Tae in the direction of the wardrobe set into the wall.

Locking eyes with you where you were held in a vice beside Sarah, he silently obeyed.

Sidling through the door without a word, he disappeared from view, making your heart constrict in your chest. With sudden and alarming ferocity, Sarah barged forwards, slamming the door on him. Grabbing the nearest piece of felled furniture, she shoved it roughly against the door.

“Don’t you dare move, boy,” she hissed, “you’ll never see the outside of jail after this.”

But as you opened your mouth to protest, her grip was back on you, yanking you backwards, heels clunking down the stairs as you scrabbled for purchase. With brutal speed, she had reached the rarely used cellar door, managing to rip it open.

And just like that, your back was hitting the dusty floor, another slam ricocheting through the space, lock clicking before you could make it to your feet to pound against the door.

Sarah’s footsteps had long gone. Instead, the muffled sound of her speaking leaked through the door.

She was going to hand Taehyung to the controllers.

Letting your fists fall limply at your sides, your forehead fell against the door as you caught your breath. Sarah wasn’t going to pay any attention to you, no matter how much noise you could make. You had to come up with something else.

Turning your back on the incomprehensible babbling of Sarah on the phone and the screaming of your brother upstairs, you faced the towers of junk in the cellar. You had never been in here much, but you were fairly sure…

Skirting around stacks of things in the dark, inevitably sending some scattering across the floor, you hurried to get to the opposite wall.

Finally it seemed you had found it. Squeezed between teetering boxes with coats slung over the top, your fingers found a wooden surface above your head. Pushing up, it gave way until the clack of a lock stopped you, only a tiny crack of light falling over your face.

But the doors were clearly old and you persevered, jumping up and down to jostle them. They were certainly opening more than before, but you could now make out a chain linking the two trapdoors. It jangled as you shoved at your only exit, until another sound grew, filling the night and drowning out your own struggle.

A siren.

The faint crunch of tyres on the road accompanied what you recognised as the controllers’ vehicle through sound alone, confirmed by flashes of orange light that briefly illuminated the other side of the doors. You were already panting from exertion as it pulled up at the front of your house.

But you didn’t let up.

The sirens shut off. Soon enough you had kicked over the stack of boxes, tentatively stepping up onto the lower two to continue your struggle.

But it wasn’t necessary.

Your heart leapt in your chest when you heard two familiar voices nearby.

“What if it’s dangerous?”

“Then Y/N will be in danger too!”

“Wait. What’s that noise?”

“Jin!” you called out through the gap, “Hoseok! Over here!”

A moment later two pairs of feet were slapping against the ground, drawing nearer until they fell in the thin gap you could see through the doors. Soon, Jin’s face filled the central space, squinting into the darkness.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“Quick, help me get out of here,” you urged, leaving his question unanswered.

Not seeming to mind, the two boys’ fingers were quickly hooked over the edges of the doors. Jin unwound the chain that had been stopping you and the trapdoors fell open at last. Each taking an arm, your friends hoisted you out of the cellar. Now they didn’t want to wait any longer for explanation.

“One of my dads saw a burglar jumping from your window,” Hobi was talking immediately, “we came straight to check, but we saw the controllers are here. Did something happen?”

“A burglar broke in, yes,” you were tripping over your words, “but Tae let me out of the shed and helped me, we tried to get rid of them, only, they ran away but then Sarah came in and now she’s calling the controllers for him. And he hasn’t done anything! We need to stop them!”

And with that, you set off for the front of the house.

A bewildered look shot between your friends behind you, before they took off on your tail.

“Y/N!” Jin called, “what are you doing? Are you crazy?”

Catching your hand, he stopped you just behind the corner of your house.

“What?” you tried to pull away.

“What’s got into you!” he gestured wildly, “those are the controllers. We stay away from them.”

“But Tae-“

“Y/N, you need to think about this. You’re putting yourself in danger too.”

Next to Jin’s intense stare, Hoseok looked a little more hesitant, gnawing at his lip.

“Y/N…” he spoke quietly, “does he really mean that much to you? After everything that happened?”

You sighed. Maybe you couldn’t quite explain it, but you had to be honest.

“Yes. Yes, he does. And I’m going after him, whether you two come or not.”

Eyes softening, Hoseok nodded. Both of you looked back to Jin, though you couldn’t help your eyes slipping to the side, impatient to help Tae.

Just as the thought ran through your mind, the slam of the front door.

Jin’s hand dropped away from yours, and you shot a panicked look back at him. His lips were pursed, watching the scene warily, but as Tae came into view, stumbling down the front steps with the force the controllers pushed him, hands fastened behind his back, the reality seemed to strike.

You couldn’t wait to check if Jin was following, stepping hurriedly from behind the wall and rushing towards Taehyung. Two sets of footsteps followed behind you.

The sound bringing his attention, you saw Taehyung’s eyes widen as he caught sight of you, but your gaze was broken as a broad-shouldered controller stepped between the two of you. A shout of your name came from the front doorway, where Sarah stood, but you didn’t even acknowledge her.

“Please, you have to let him go!” you pleaded with the indifferent controller.

“Let’s get him moving,” they growled over their shoulder to their colleagues. The lights of the controllers’ vans were practically unheard of in a neighbourhood such as this, and people were beginning to take notice. Curtains were pulled aside, some stepping from their front doors.

“You can’t!” you cried, the gathering crowd doing nothing to deter you, “he hasn’t done anything!”

“Alright miss,” the looming controller held his hands out, “calm down. We’ve been after this one for months.”

“But-“

“Pidge-“ a low warning from Tae was soon cut off as the officer restraining him shoved him forward, knees hitting against the stone path.

“Tae!”

Outraged, you dived for him, not paying any mind to the controllers until large arms were muscling against you, forcing you roughly away as Tae was dragged from the floor. You were flung back unceremoniously, and would have hit the ground too if you didn’t collide with another chest.

Jin’s arms steadied you.

“Don’t touch her,” his firm voice was loud in your ear as he glared up at the controller.

“Why you…”

Turning on him instead, the controller only got those words out before a new voice was cutting through the commotion.

“What’s going on here?”

Whirling around, you found Jin’s mother storming through the still growing crowd, hurrying up the path, his father not far behind. In shock, her wide eyes moved between her son and the controller berating him.

But as she bustled towards you, Tae was being wrestled further away, a brutal hand forcing his head down and into the waiting car.

“Tae!” you yelled again, ignoring Jin’s parents as you raced towards the gate, ducking under the controller that lunged at you.

But though your feet strove forwards, the engine rumbled, tyres setting into motion. The lights whirred further away, and you couldn’t make it as Tae was ripped away from you…

“Stop!” you were shouting. They had taken him right in front of you! You were so close, eyes fixed on the car, filtering out the shocked spectators who drew away from you, “come back! Please! Tae! No…”

Behind you, Jin’s mother was giving an earful to the controller, his father steadfast beside her as Jin stumbled to meet you.

“Y/N,” his hand landed on your shoulder, light and ready to spring away at any moment, “Y/N, I’m so sorry-“

An ear-splitting screech cut through the cacophony. Eerie silence smothered the scene as a toe-curling crunching filled the air, every eye travelling to the car spiralling across the middle of the road, lights washing like crashing waves over pristine lawns until it ground to a stop.

Gaping, heart in your mouth as you saw the scene unfold, you were the first to recover enough to move. Without your command, your legs were carrying you towards Taehyung. His head emerged in the car window, looking about in alarm. He must have ducked down when they swerved.

Mumbling conversation rushed to your ears again, sparking to life between the onlookers as you finally reached the car, throwing the door open.

“Tae!” you gasped, voice ragged as you pulled him out. Though he looked a little dazed, a soft smile curved his lips as you threw your arms around him. Unable to embrace you in return, he pressed his face into your hair.

“Jin’s explained everything, dear, don’t worry now,” the familiar voice of Jin’s mother approached behind you, “we’ll sort everything out, just-“

“No!”

Silence shot like electricity from the cry. It was Jin, but-

It hadn’t sounded like Jin.

His voice grated with the ferocity of the yell, and you whipped instantly away from Tae, locating your friend.

Only he wasn’t looking at you.

Dread seizing at your being, you dragged your gaze to follow his, looking down the road.

Your throat closed, choking any breath you had been taking.

This time, you found you couldn’t move. Jin’s feet were pounding away on the asphalt, the crowd’s silence not lifting as everyone stared on in horror. Your feet, on the other hand, wouldn’t – couldn’t – move.

Vision funnelling dizzyingly, you watched the stationary figure sprawled on the tarmac.

Your stomach churned, everything lurching sickeningly as you finally persuaded your leaden legs to move, utterly numb as you drew closer, denial running rampant in your mind.

Hoseok lay on the ground, unmoving. There was blood.

That was where the car had swerved. The car. Swerved. Hit him. It must have hit him; look at the way his shirt had torn, pushed along the ground. The way his normally lively eyes were shut in an unusually pale face, arm splayed out at an awkward angle.

“Hoseok…” you tried to say, but not even a whisper made it beyond your lips.

Jin was crouching beside him, saying his name over and over and over… his hand clutching at his friend, pressing at his face, his wrist. Commotion had returned at some point to the street around you, but you could barely hear it, locked in place.

The world shifted around you, people moving, noises and shouts and more sirens and hands on your shoulders until your feet moved, but you could only stare at your friend.

He had done this for you. For you and Tae.

Was he even breathing?

You hadn’t even noticed the brimming in your eyes, hardly blinking when it finally cascaded down your cheeks.

Jin’s mother hadn’t let you go back into the same house as Sarah. She had taken you in with her own son, and Tae alongside. You stayed clutching his hand, readily accepting his warm arms.

Despite the uneasy looks from bystanders, and Jin’s parents themselves, he had stayed by your side, unusually demure as he thanked the Kims for their generosity.

They let you two keep to yourselves. You could hear through the quiet house though, as you curled into Tae’s chest, the two of you trying to take up as little space on Jin’s bed as you could.

“I can’t believe it! That boy got unlucky with those controllers,” you could tell she was shaking her head.

His mother said this a lot. That they were ‘unlucky’. That the controllers were there to protect them, that their behaviour the night before was out of the ordinary, that you mustn’t worry.

“Maybe they didn’t want to listen to him because he was… well, because of where he’s from,” Seokjin’s reply was cautious, much more muffled than his mother’s assurances, “they didn’t want to listen to me either.”

“Don’t think like that,” his father chided, “it’s understandable given what most of the people there are like. They just made a mistake this once.”

A costly mistake, if it was one.

You closed your eyes.

Trailing back into the room, Jin squeezed onto the other side of the bed, sighing heavily.

None of you slept.

The curtains in Hoseok’s house were closed. Since everything had happened a few days ago, you had only caught a glimpse of his teary-eyed fathers, coming home from the hospital.

They hadn’t spoken to you.

You squeezed Taehyung’s hand tighter as you walked past their home.

Mother and father were coming home today. It had been less than a week, but everything had completely changed since you saw them last.

Not wanting to return until Sarah had gone, you waited with Tae by your garden wall. The place you had been sitting when Taehyung first burst into your life.

While you waited, Tae was… quiet. Noticing the pallor of his downcast face, you ducked your head to catch his eye.

“Tae…” you whispered, “Tae, it’s going to be alright.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, then let out a sigh, “I’m… I’m worried- that- what if- they’re not gonna like me!”

“They will!” you hushed him, smoothing your hands down his cheeks, his hair, “and if they don’t, it doesn’t matter to me. We’ve been through a little too much to let go so easily, don’t you think?”

Turning his honey-eyed gaze back to you, a smile quirked the corner of Tae’s mouth, much to your relief.

“You sure, cub? I know I’m not exactly a fairytale prince-“

“Oh, shush!” you laughed, “I couldn’t wish for anyone else.”

Tightening his grip on your hands, he pulled you against him in lieu of a reply. A kiss landed gently on your crown.

Just then, you became aware of voices floating from the garden.

Twirling from Taehyung’s embrace, though you kept a hold of his hand, you steeled yourself. They were back.

Making your way, with Taehyung in tow, towards the front, you ignored the neighbours peering not-so-subtly out of windows at you and your returning family. As your parents stepped through the gate, they noticed you, but the smiles on their faces dimmed when they found Taehyung beside you.

Their frowns only increased as they noticed the way you ignored Sarah, who stood at the door with her two children, already packed. The moment she spotted your parents, she was ushering the children down the steps without a second glance, making her farewells very brief as she hastened to leave.

“Y/N, dear?” your mother tentatively asked as you moved forward to greet them, “what-?”

“I’d like you to meet Kim Taehyung,” you smiled. Hopefully it came across as a smile, not a grimace. “there’s a lot I have to tell you.”

The grass under you was soft, rejuvenated by the sunlight smiling through the smattering of clouds. Your usual park was empty of any others, save for the four of you.

Yes, four.

Between blades of grass and budding buttercups, Taehyung’s fingers danced across your own where he reclined, eyes creased in hopeless mirth at one of Jin’s jokes. Jin was squeaking at his own joke, definitely getting grass stains on his shirt as he fell back, rolling on the ground.

And opposite you, loud, joyous laugh finally filling the space, was Hoseok. Beside the bench he leaned against, a couple of crutches were stacked, but the cast on his ankle was the only reminder left of the awful price he nearly paid that night.

He wouldn’t be able to have full mobility again for a few more weeks, though, which is why you were still here. This park, the backdrop to so much of your upbringing, was no longer where you belonged.

Knowing its emptiness only owed to it being a school day, that the true children of this side of the tracks would always be above you, tinged it with some bitterness.

This place would always be part of your life, but it was somewhere you wanted to move on from. And after learning from you, protesting against their parents, who, it turned out, all held the same beliefs deep down, Jin and Hoseok also felt the need to make their own way. To seize the life they had never been offered.

The way the neighbours looked at you now had certainly helped persuade your parents that it was time for you to fly the nest. For weeks, your scandal had been the only thing on the lips of the gossip in your neighbourhood.

Of course, you would always come back to visit, and to watch your brother grow, but you were ready for your own life.

With Taehyung at your side, of course.

When Hoseok could walk, you travelled to the tracks together, certainly closer than Jin and Hoseok had been before. There weren’t parks here, so you waited on a dusty corner.

“So the days of living free are behind you, then?”

Turning, you found a grinning Yoongi. Pulling Taehyung into a hug, he patted him on the back.

“I’m still living free,” Tae winked at him, “free to be where I want, with who I want.”

He pulled you into his side as a startled laugh escaped you.

“So cheesy,” Jimin grumbled next, embracing you both all the same.

Namjoon and Jungkook were also introduced. Taehyung so wanted your friends to get along with his, and you were overjoyed to see him grinning the whole time. Just as you suspected, they all fit right in together.

“You’ll come and visit us, right?” you made them promise as you left.

“We’ll join you as soon as we can,” Namjoon assured with a smile.

You weren’t sure if you should feel sad.

Turning your back on the car that pulled away after a brief final wave, you found nothing holding you back. Light as a feather, you raced up the steps, breathless by the time Taehyung reached you. A few strands of his midnight hair fell into his eyes as he laughed at you, that stunning grin lighting up his whole face.

But you were the same, unable to smile any wider.

“Here we go then, pidge,” he spoke, sweeping forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

Grasping your hand, the two of you stepped further onto the platform side by side. Every glance at your wonderful boyfriend showed his exhilarated grin never let up.

The train rolled in, hissing to a stop. For most of the people bustling along the station, it was as ordinary as anything, but you were practically bouncing, eagerly awaiting as the doors groaned open.

No sooner had you stored your small case overhead, Taehyung was tugging your hand. Falling onto his lap, neither of you wasted a moment finding each other’s lips, all smiles and hands on your cheeks and in his hair as the carriage heaved into life.

The tracks whizzed by below you, taking you to a city where they wouldn’t divide you.

Thank you so much for reading!💜let me know if you enjoyed it!

This series is done, but if you like my writing I have a permanent taglist too! Contact me to be added😊

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @kb-bangtanenthusiast @un2-verse @taegularities @wheresmymoniat @ttaechwita @dideedoll1996 @ggukkieland @wt-fxck @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @anon-coffee-lover

#thebtswritersclub #vantaenet #btscreatorscorner #purplearmynet #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung imagine #kim taehyung mafia au #bts mafia au #kim taehyung au #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung fluff #kim taehyung angst fluff #kim taehyung film au #bts au fic #taehyung scenario #kim taehyung scenarios #taehyung hurt comfort #bts hurt comfort

117 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Everything Was White: Part 12

[see all chapters]

Read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

---

The alarm was blaring.

Danny recognized the noise immediately. But his eyes were still slow to open, his arms were slow to turn off the offending sound, and his brain was slow to recognize that the white ceiling above him was just his bedroom ceiling.

His body was numb. Nothing felt real.

He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and unlocked it. The screen was too bright, but he didn’t care. He’d been through worse. What was a little eye strain to him, really?

There were text messages, but Danny ignored them. The government likely already read them first, so if they were important, Danny would probably have woken up back in his cell rather than his cozy bed.

Ghosts like Danny didn’t get to have comfort. He was unpredictable. Dangerous.

“You’re a feral beast.” Operative O’s deep voice rained down on him. “You need to be trained.”

Danny opened the Twitter app only to be faced with a crushing amount of notifications and his name on the top of the trending list.

He should have felt nervous. Anxiety should have gripped his stomach. But...it didn’t.

He felt nothing.

Numb.

He clicked on his name and scrolled through the tweets. As he suspected, that damn video of him at the PHP littered his screen.

Protests have begun to break out near the health clinic Phantom is attending. [image]

I don’t understand, why doesn’t he just fly into the building or something? Can he not fly?

Is phantom over?

It’s so gross how people feel the need to harass a teenager trying to recover from trauma.

imagine being a teen trying to get emergency mental help and then THAT walks into ur class

What the fuck did the government do to him?

He was numb.

Nobody knew what really happened in there, and Danny wanted so badly to keep it that way. And the worst part was, he thought that if he just forgot about it, tried to move past it, then it would all go away. And no one would ever know.

Except Vlad did find out. Somehow, Vlad had managed to get a hold of classified government files about Danny, and if what he had implied was true, then he had learned everything.

And if Vlad knew, then…

No. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Danny knew from the moment he’d stupidly revealed himself that his life was not his own anymore. He knew that he was going to be nothing but a government possession from that moment till the day he died.

He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

He pulled up a blank tweet and started typing. His movements were robotic. Stilted. But one slip-up, just one reason for the public to get suspicious, and Danny knew that some seedy corner of the internet would pounce on the opportunity to dig deeper into Danny’s life than he was comfortable with.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Thank you everyone for the support. I’m back home with my family and am healing.

Before he could question what he was doing, his finger was already pressing send on the tweet. He watched as almost immediately, notifications popped up in his inbox.

But he didn’t open his notifications, he didn’t look at the replies. Instead, he closed the app and shut his phone off.

He didn’t care anymore.

Maddie knocked on the door and asked him a question, and he responded with the right answer for her to leave. He got up and started his new morning routine of sitting in the shower for ten minutes, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast before leaving for six hours of mandatory therapy.

He stared out the window, watching the morning traffic pass by him. He couldn’t remember if he shampooed his hair or if he just sat under the scalding water. But it was fine. He was just a government-issued robot now. Whatever.

There were people lining the highway when Danny pulled into the PHP center. They were shouting different things, holding different signs, their cameras armed and ready as soon as the GAV came into view. The police were there, making sure no one escaped into the parking lot, and there were therapists waiting outside.

They didn’t know. They had no idea what Danny had gone through, why he was there.

And it didn’t matter. Not to them, not to Danny, not to the police or the news stations filming the scene or to the government or Vlad or anyone else.

Danny wasn’t in charge of his life anymore.

He was only here because the government had decided he could stay free.

For now.

The therapists escorted him into the building. Danny felt hollow. Sick.

No, he was fine.

Maddie hugged him, told him to have a good day, that she’d be back to bring him to more therapy after, and Danny nodded. At least, he thought he remembered to nod. He might not have, though.

There was a window in the lobby. A white van was parked along the street.

The APC news van.

Jazz was right. Danny was just being paranoid about the white van outside of their house before. He was so stupid.

Even if it wasn’t a news van, what would it matter? He didn’t control his life, what would he care if they finished him off in some back alley? What would it matter if they snuck him into their van and held him captive for the rest of his life in some damp containment cell?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny spaced out for the morning meeting. He couldn’t remember if he managed to read off his paper for the other teens. His voice wasn’t working today. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything was numb.

They had art therapy today, run by a tall, lanky man with sandy hair and a clean-shaven face. He told the group to paint what they were feeling today, to channel their emotions onto their blank sheets of paper.

But Danny felt nothing. He had nothing to give.

He must have stared at his paper for too long, because the therapist tried to talk to him, ask him if he was alright, if he was having trouble with the exercise.

Danny didn’t respond, instead choosing to pick up the green paint and squeeze some of it directly onto his paper, rules be damned. It was too dark, so he grabbed the white paint and smeared it into the green. The color still wasn’t right, but Danny didn’t know enough about art to make it right, so he just kept spreading green across his paper. A dash of yellow, then some white, more green.

Time was up. His paper was green.

“Good job, Danny. What do you think?” the therapist asked.

Danny stared at the paper, studying the streaks of yellow within the brush strokes. “It’s not the right shade of ectoplasm.”

The day continued with more emotion-managing lessons and group activities but Danny didn’t care and nobody could understand that. He was done with this, he was tired, it didn’t matter.

It was lunchtime, and Danny had no appetite. It felt like he had just eaten breakfast. His stomach was still full, but he had a sandwich sitting in front of him that he needed to eat or else they would tell his parents.

Danny held the sandwich between his fingers. It looked like sandpaper.

He didn’t want to eat it.

The therapist was looking at him. She was probably talking to him too, asking him questions about his day. But Danny ignored her. After all, didn’t he need to eat this lunch? How could he possibly eat and talk at the same time?

The teens were talking around him, but Danny blocked them all out too.

They were noisy.

It was like they weren’t even there.

Danny wasn’t human. He didn’t care.

But you do care.

He didn’t.

He was numb.

Eat up like a good little dog.

I’m not a dog.

Something inside him snapped, and he yanked on his cold core, channeling all his energy to his fingertips. His fingers tingled out of the tangible field, and the sandwich fell to the table.

“Whoa!” The blonde girl jumped, her eyes trained on Danny’s transparent skin.

“Danny?”

There was an audience. Danny had forgotten about them. His core faltered, and the power faded from his fingertips.

He should have felt embarrassed by this emotional display. He should have felt horrified that he’d allowed himself to act so inhuman and disgusting in front of these innocent bystanders.

But he was still numb.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was bored.”

“That was sick!” the brunette boy chimed in. “You can do that on command?”

“Usually.” Danny’s gaze flickered over to the therapist, who was giving him a strange look. He turned his attention back to the fallen sandwich.

Maybe he would get kicked out of the program for this. For being too dangerous. That would probably be for the better. Then he could go free into the world. No more schedule, no more therapy, no more dissecting his emotions or talking about his trauma.

Who cared about his trauma, anyway? Certainly not him.

“So you still have your ghost powers, then?” the blonde girl asked. “People were saying online that you lost them. The government took them or whatever.”

Danny brought his hand up to his face, willing his fingers to fade to invisibility. “They’re locked. But...I...they’re there. I’ll get them back.”

He would get them back. He needed them.

Especially now.

Which was how he found himself sitting quietly outside his mother’s door. Waiting. He should have knocked probably, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He didn’t know why, he knew he should just go back to his room, go to sleep, stop bothering his parents about this, but he needed his core back.

His mom would understand. She was a ghost biology expert, right? She would get why he needed his core back now.

He raised his fist to knock, but he must have already knocked before because the door opened, revealing his mother dressed in teal pajamas on the other side.

“Danny?” She frowned, her brows pulling cautiously above her eyes. “What are you doing up, sweetie? Everything alright?”

“I, uh—” His voice was scratchy. He broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “My—my core.”

“Something wrong?”

He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I need it back.”

“Sweetheart,” she said in a patient tone. “We talked about this.”

“No. you talked.”

She sighed. “Danny, it’s nearly eleven. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No. No. I need it.”

“I told you, hun, your core and body need time to heal properly first before we make any drastic changes to your physiology. Just give it a few more weeks, alright?”

“Weeks?” Danny’s voice rose in alarm.

“I promise it’ll be all worth it.”

Static rang in his ears, and a steel claw clutched at his stomach.

His mom didn’t understand. Why would she? She was human. Humans would never get it. She didn’t understand.

“No, I can’t…”

“Danny, you need to trust me. Your body needs to rest.”

“You don’t understand.”

She regarded him for a moment before opening her door fully. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk, then. You can tell me why this is so important to you.”

Danny peered inside the door, at the surprisingly average-looking bedroom before him. He could go in, tell his mother just how wrong he felt cut off from his core, how he was being blackmailed by Vlad, how there was a distinct record of every detail of what the Guys in White had done to him, how he had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable in his life.

But he wouldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. There was no way he could put it all into words. He was a ghost, she was a human. He couldn’t explain this to her.

Skulker and Vlad may have forced his revelation, but they gave him more secrets than he could ever have dreamt of handling.

Danny turned away. “It’s fine. Good night.”

“Hun…”

“Night, Mom.”

There was a tense silence before Maddie finally relented. “I love you, Danny.”

“You too,” he said reflexively. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

She didn’t understand. If she truly loved him, she would give him his core back right now, but she didn’t.

No, he was just being paranoid. This was just his Obsession talking. He didn’t need his core, he was just as much human as he was ghost. So what if he had to be a little more human for the next few weeks? Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To just be a regular human?

Maybe that was what his mother wanted. Maybe that was why she was postponing removing the chip. Maybe she was too afraid to see her son as a monster. A ghost.

But that was crazy. She loved him.

She was telling the truth.

His parents accepted him.

---

“You seem quiet today.”

Danny leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes looking anywhere but at the blonde figure sitting before him. The stress ball sat untouched on the table next to him.

He didn’t feel like doing therapy today. He didn’t want to talk.

His mom was human, his therapist was human. No one was going to get it.

“What’s on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He was fine. There was nothing to talk about. Even if there were things to talk about—and there weren’t, this was all just his Obsession going haywire—it wouldn’t matter anyway because he was defenseless and the government was going to kidnap him again. It was only a matter of time.

“You finished your first week with the PHP group today, right? How has that been going?”

“Fine.”

“Can you tell me about some of the activities you’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat there for a moment, as if giving him time to elaborate. But Danny wasn’t going to elaborate. He didn’t feel like talking today.

He looked out the window. The leaves had changed color, the ripe greens fading to yellows, oranges, and reds. In another few weeks, the ground would be littered with fallen leaves.

Summer had barely just begun when he was dragged from his house, drugged, and locked away. And yet, even though his entire world had come to a halt, time still moved on.

The clatter of the therapist’s clipboard falling on a side table jolted Danny out of his musing. He flinched, his eyes snapping over to see the therapist rising from her chair.

She stretched her arms behind her back and walked over to the closet. “You know what? It’s been a long day. Wanna play a game?”

“Um...are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She grabbed a box out of the closet and placed it down in the center of the room.

Danny peered at it in confusion. “Jenga? Of—of all the games out there, you’re really gonna make me...make me get on the floor for Jenga?”

“Oh, come on, it’s fun.”

“You must throw some wild parties,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he slid off the couch and slowly scooched himself towards the middle of the room. As long as he didn’t have to explain why he was two seconds away from ripping his own core out of his chest, he would go along with whatever game she threw at him.

The therapist carefully tipped the box upside down, sliding the lid up to reveal a tower of multi-colored wooden tiles jigsawed together.

“So here’s our marvelous tower,” she said. “You can reach that alright?”

“Yeah.”

“So normal Jenga rules. We switch off trying to remove a piece without causing the tower to collapse. Except, for this game, after you remove a piece, you’re going to pick a card from this stack—” She pointed to a deck of large cards set up next to the Jenga tower. “—and then answer the question on the card that’s the same color. So if I take a purple tile out, I’ll answer the purple question on the card. Got it?”

Danny glanced between the cards and his therapist’s eager face. He was fairly certain Jenga never involved a set of cards before.

Maybe he’d forgotten the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had betrayed him. “Am I being quizzed?”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed up the sleeves of her blue cardigan. “They’re just basic therapy questions. Nothing too bad.”

No. This was a trick, wasn’t it? To get him to talk?

He wasn’t going to fall for it. “I thought we weren’t—weren’t doing that...today.”

“The questions aren’t too deep. Honestly, I mostly just use this game as an icebreaker for new clients. But Jenga’s pretty fun all the same.”

He must have still looked too suspicious, because she threw him an easy smile and went, “Here, I’ll go first.” She carefully nudged a green tile out of the stack and drew a card. “Okay, so the green question on here says, ‘Describe yourself in three words.’ Well, I’d say I’m kind, I think I’m rather nerdy, and I’m a bit of a cat lady.”

That...wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would be an easy game.

He doubted any of the questions asked him about his core. Maybe he could loosen up a bit, go along with this icebreaker game, if only for an hour before sinking back into his internal panic.

“Cat lady?” he tried.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised that’s never come up! I have two at home.”

Right, his therapist had a life outside of therapy. Outside of his problems.

But it wasn’t like he knew her name. At this point, it was just too embarrassing to ask. Maybe she had told him that she had cats, and he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he would forget it again tomorrow.

Whatever. It was fine. He couldn’t care about things he didn’t remember. “Uh…” Danny pushed a purple tile out of the tower. “So I just pick up a—um, a card?”

“Yup, and read the purple question.”

Danny looked down at his card and rolled his eyes. “Oh, figures. ‘If you had superpowers, what would they be?’ Well, I’m dead. Does being dead count?”

She laughed, her voice light and airy. “Of all the questions, huh? Okay, let’s modify this a bit. If you could only keep one of your powers, which would you take?”

“Probably intangibility,” Danny said, his lack of hesitation surprising him.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Where the chip was. “It’s the most useful, isn’t it? I can just...you know...I have no physical stuff in my way. I can just phase through any—anything I need. Or—no. Almost anything.”

Not shields. Those could still trap him.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to pry further, just offering him a kind nod and a “that makes sense” before pushing out another Jenga tile. “Blue! Alright, my question is, ‘What is your favorite feature about yourself?’ Hmm...that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? But I think my favorite thing about myself is my hair. When I was a teen, I used to straighten my hair, but then when I got to college, I stopped doing that and just let it be. Now I quite like my curly hair. Okay, your turn!”

“Okay.” Danny leaned over and pushed a red tile out of the tower. “Okay...my quest—question is…‘What is your biggest hope for your future?’ Oh...”

He did want to be an astronaut. But that was before, when he was still human. And then he was caught between thousands of volts of ecto-electricity and that future vanished right before his eyes.

What did he want to do with his life? What did he hope would happen?

He wanted his core back. He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable for much longer. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, he needed to—

Breathe. And answer the question.

What did he hope for his future?

“I don’t know. My future’s kinda...ruined, isn’t it?”

“Try to think on a smaller scale.”

“I…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He wanted his core back, he wanted to be Phantom, he wanted to protect Amity Park. But he couldn’t say that. It made him sound too ghostly. Too inhuman.

Humans didn’t have these kinds of otherworldly desires. She would think he was a freak if he told her. She wouldn’t know how to react.

“I want to finish PT.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“Your turn.”

Humming, she nudged a tile out of the Jenga tower and flipped over a card. “Okay, my question is, ‘What is something you were worried about when you were younger?’ Let me think…oh, here’s one. When I was young, my older sister moved out to live with her boyfriend. It was really scary because I had never lived without her, but we kept in touch and everything turned out okay.”

“I haven’t either. Lived away from Jazz I mean. Like—like for real. But she’s going to college next—next semester. I think she, uh...deferred a semester.”

“And you know, it’s common to feel worried about a sibling moving out. Periods of transition in life can be the most stressful for us, but it’s important to recognize that things will be okay.”

Danny looked down at the carpet. “I guess.”

Some days it felt like Jazz was the only one truly on his side. He was a lab rat, too well known and too hated to ever have a future, forever condemned to a vicious cycle of evading people like the Guys in White and Vlad for the rest of his life. Jazz was leaving him in a few months, his friends would follow in a few years, and in the end, Danny would be alone.

But he was fine with that. He’d accepted it. It was just his life now, there was nothing to say about it.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yup! Go right ahead.”

Danny removed another tile. “‘How do you think others view you and why?’” He paused, throwing the therapist a bitter look. “This is rigged.”

“Not rigged, that’s just a very lucky pick.”

“Lucky to who?” Danny groaned.

What was with the universe finding new ways to torment him?

“Humor me,” the therapist said patiently.

Danny glared at his card, tapping his fingers against the edge. It wasn’t like the public opinion of him was exactly a secret, but it still hurt. Constantly. Like some scab he kept telling himself to ignore, but ignoring it was impossible because the public would never leave him alone.

“Not good,” Danny muttered. “People hate me.”

“Being in the public eye is very stressful for anyone, but to be unique in your way adds on an entirely different layer. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand, and that makes them forget that at the end of the day, you’re still a person.”

“Yeah.” Danny’s eyes were trained on the colorful tower before him, which was starting to blur as the prickling behind his eyes increased. He ducked his head and blinked, hoping to save face before it was too late.

“That doesn’t mean everyone feels this way, though. But sometimes it can feel that way to you because the ones who are the most afraid, the most hateful, are the loudest voices in the crowd. But remember, Danny, you won that court case for a reason. You have more people on your side than you think.”

“I won it for now, you mean. I don’t...I don’t think…” His voice failed, and he pressed his fingernails into his palms. He took a few shaky breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Why don’t we talk about the case for a minute?”

Tucker’s words echoed in his head, how it was televised. How millions of people all around the globe probably tuned in for it, or watched streams online, each person with their own opinion of him.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

“No,” he said. “Can we—can we just continue the game?”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” She pushed a block out of the tower. “So...alright, my question is, ‘What memory do you treasure the most?’ To that, I think fishing with my dad as a child. He was a big support for me when I was growing up, and I really valued our times fishing together as important bonding moments for us.”

Danny nodded politely, trying his best to not appear like he was counting down the seconds until therapy was over.

He could feel his emotions building inside him, threatening to topple the carefully constructed dam guarding his secrets. This was such a simple game, these were such simple questions, so why did he feel like he was failing?

He pushed out a Jenga tile—a red tile—from the tower and grabbed a card, scanning the questions until he found the red one.

What are you afraid of?

The words echoed back to him, and he pushed the card away. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to read those words or hear her voice because saying the question would mean he would have to talk and he only agreed to this stupid game to get out of talking.

There was so much he was afraid of that he had no right to be afraid of. Because he deserved this. Getting revealed was his fault, he was being reckless. He deserved all of it.

The experiments with the Guys in White. The pain, the way his skin was torn apart. How they threw him in a vat of ectoplasm the next day to heal, and how the ectoplasm entering his lungs made him feel like he was drowning because even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe, he still used those organs reflexively as Phantom. But he was in too much pain and his brain was too hazy to fight back. He could only sink into the darkness.

The red bag. The way it tasted, smelled, how it haunted him every day and how he revisited those moments every night in his dreams. How he would wake up each day and the drawer on his nightstand would be shimmering in the morning sun, as if tempting him to open it up, grab the bottle inside, let it help just for one day. It can take the edge off, he can be functional. Who cares if he’s cheating? It’s just for a day...

The public. The people. Their judgments, their words. How he was, on a molecular level, so vastly different from them. How he could never be the same. He would never have a normal life, he could never have a normal job, a normal family, normal friendships, ever again. There would always be something there, something alien between them.

Even between him and his best friends. There was just something... different ever since the portal accident. It had brought them closer together, sure, but in other ways it had also driven an invisible wedge between them. Because Danny would always have his powers, he would always be a half ghost, and there would always be things now that Sam and Tucker would never understand.

How much would change now? Now that he was in the public eye, now that he’d gone through government torture? Now that his brain didn’t work the same?

And his core. His humanity. Why were his parents so apprehensive about it?

What are you afraid of?

Why wouldn’t his parents let him down into the lab? What were they hiding? They said his core was damaged, but it had been months since he was ripped open. His surgical damage had healed, his broken bones were back to normal, and even though his nerve endings in his chest and spine were still fried, they had been slowly mending themselves too.

Ectoplasm healed faster than human physiology. His core should have been fine by now.

What was the truth?

“They accept me,” Danny said automatically.

“Who does?”

Who accepted him?

Sam and Tucker did.

His family…

Did they?

“I don’t know.”

“You have people in your corner, Danny. Your parents, your sister, your close friends. They all care about you. We’re all here for you, even if those loud voices in the public tell you otherwise.”

But if they cared...

“Then why won’t they let me have my core back?”

“Your core?”

“My powers. My ghostliness. Ectoplasm.” Danny let his eyes flair to emphasize his point.

If his therapist was scared of his otherworldly display, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to look at him with her neutral expression, free of the judgment he’d come to expect from people since the accident.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that irritated him.

“You mean the inhibitor chip?” she asked.

“Yes. They told me it was because my core...it was damaged but—but it doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t...”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

Of course he had. They kept repeating that his core was damaged. And they were probably right—for a time, at the very least. But that was months ago.

Why hadn’t they scanned his core recently? Shouldn’t they be happy to learn it was healed? Shouldn’t that make them relieved?

What were they afraid of?

What are you afraid of?

“Do you think it would be helpful if I talked to your mother about this?” asked the therapist. “As a way to introduce the topic? She likely doesn’t know how much it’s bothering you.”

But that didn’t make sense either because Danny brought his core up every day. His parents knew how much it was bothering him. They had to have known, right?

So why were they doing this to him?

What were they hiding?

What are you afraid of?

---

Danny tried to remember a time where walking from his living room to his kitchen didn’t require a list of steps to be taken beforehand—a time where he could just get up and walk. But those memories were far too distant now.

And besides, this was his reality now. A reality where something as simple as walking made his head spin.

He shouldn’t dwell on the memories of how easy it used to be for him, he shouldn’t have snapped at Jazz for getting a cup of water for him because he knew the glasses were too high to reach from his wheelchair, he shouldn’t allow this irrational anger to overtake him every time the creeping anxiety of his future as Amity Park’s ghost hero came into question.

He just needed to focus on where he was now. Curled up on his couch avoiding his parents.

Everything felt wrong this morning when he woke up. For a moment, he had managed to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. That it was just his damaged nerve endings freaking out as normal. That once he took his medication, his problems would go away.

But they didn’t. He still felt wrong. His chest still felt wrong.

It was manifesting in other ways too. He couldn’t walk as long today at PT. His physical therapist told him it was just a bad day and that his body was probably just tired from his busy week. But Danny knew that wasn’t right.

It had nothing to do with him being tired. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t anxious.

His core was the problem. His parents were the problem.

He tried asking about his core again on the way home from PT, using conversation techniques he went over with his therapist at the end of their last appointment, but Maddie just brushed him off. Said they would talk about it later.

But then later came and...she didn’t.

Danny tried asking his father, but he brushed Danny off too. Said Danny needed to focus on healing first.

But how was he supposed to heal when he was missing half of himself?

He felt wrong. So wrong. His body was too bound by gravity, it was too empty, it wasn’t listening to him.

He pressed his palms into his forehead. His hands were clammy. Shaking. Speckles of cold touched them—or was that his tears? Was he crying?

No.

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

The government had him in a cage. They tormented him in ways he would rather die than live through again. But then it ended, and he was freed. He was allowed to go home, he could live his life as a legal person again.

Except, he wasn’t free. Not at all. He was still trapped here in Amity, in his house, in his body. He had no control. Not over what he ate, when he slept, where he went, what he could say, what he could think.

Half of him was still locked up tight with no hope of escape.

His water glass was empty. It would have been too embarrassing to ask someone to help him, but he was so thirsty and dehydrated and he just really needed this to work. He needed his body to respond to him. For one moment, please, just let his body respond.

Gripping the water cup in one hand and his walker in the other, he tried to stand, to walk over to the kitchen sink. But balancing everything was so difficult, his body was still fatigued from PT, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it but he just needed to try.

But he couldn’t do it in the end. The cup slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the carpet, thankfully saved from shattering on impact by some last shred of luck the universe decided to pity him with.

And now Danny too was on the floor because he couldn’t bend down to pick the cup back up like a normal person, and he didn’t want to call for help, and he couldn’t use any of his powers, and he felt so trapped. So helpless. So vulnerable.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too stubborn and he was too useless.

A tear splattered against his hand, and he gripped the floor, his body trembling.

“Stop crying. Stop it.” he hissed.

He was weak.

Plasmius, once nearly his equal, had so severely overpowered him the other night. It was embarrassing. On the hierarchy of ghosts, where was he now? At the bottom with the blob ghosts?

But those ghosts could still fly. They could still turn intangible. Things that Danny couldn’t even do.

Hell, he was so weak that even the Box Ghost could defeat him now.

“Stop crying.”

He crawled back to the couch, the thought of getting water abandoned on the floor along with the last semblance of his dignity. Another tear fell from his cheek, and he desperately tried to ignore it, ignore his dry throat, ignore the pain in his chest, ignore his core and the Y-scar on his body and his new place in the ghost hierarchy as lower than dirt, ignore everything. Just focus on getting back to the couch. Shut down, go numb.

He was fine, he was okay.

He just needed to push through this. Just toughen up, quit whining. Life wasn’t fair. So what if he was now just a regular human? Hadn’t he been human for the first fourteen years of his life? He needed to suck it up.

Dragging himself back onto the safety of the couch cushions, he pulled one of Jazz’s throw blankets around his body and pressed a pillow into his face.

Never in his life had he been so tempted to scream, to curse, to finally let the last brick fall and allow hell to break loose. But his parents were in the basement, Jazz was upstairs, and he was fine.

He was fine.

---

Huge thank you to tumblr user and writer @imekitty for proofreading this chapter. She’s amazing and I owe her my life.

And as always, thanks for reading!

---

#danny phantom #everything was white #chapter 12 #my writing #fanfiction #phiccs #danny has A Bad Time

70 notes · View notes

kurutabaa · 3 years

Note

hi i discovered ur blog and its my new fave thing ever! may i req for a ryuji version of the "friend trying to pair up with his future s/o" thing u did? i feel like ann would fit as scheming matchmaker. (or u can pick whoever though) im such a loser for this idea, it's genius. i love ryuji so 👁👄👁 totally self indulgent

Ann Trying to Pair up Ryuji with his Future S/O!

Did I hear Ann the matchmaker and Ryuji as the matchmaker victim?! Yesyes!! I would be happy enough to do a lot more of these “Friend Pairing up Someone with Future S/O” scenarios!! Plus, Ann is the freaking best and I adore her~

(Futaba/Akira version of this scenario here!)

Ann Takamaki + Ryuji Sakamoto!

Featuring Ann as the Matchmaker and Ryuji + S/O as her target~

As the whole “Futaba pairing up Akira and his S/O together” situation died down, Ann noticed something similar to that with you and Ryuji.

She noticed how Ryuji would act stupider than he normally was around you. How he would try to say something cool but fail horribly, the way he tried to avoid eye contact with you and how he wouldn’t dare get closer then a meter towards you.

Although Ann had no solid evidence for any feelings, she realized this was Ryuji we were talking about. She needed to get her hands dirty.

After this realization, Ann will immediately interrogate Ryuji, wether it’d be at the lockers, cafeteria, or courtyard, she needs some answers.

“Hey, Sakamoto. What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“How stupid are you? I’m obviously talking about Y/N, it’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for them.”

“What?! W-Where did you get bullshit like that?!”

“Don’t play dumb with me! Now, I’m gonna help you win their heart, got it?”

Will definitely somehow rope in Akira the PT Girls into her schemes. Wether it’d be for date ideas or scheming “We’re just hanging out but this is totally meant to be a date!” plans.

Depending on which person you hang out with a lot, she’ll tell them to ask you what you think of Ryuji and to tell her afterwards.

When it turns out that you do have feelings for Ryuji, she’s now extremely adamant on getting you two together.

Will either tell you or Ryuji to ask one another if they want to go out for lunch, but most likely Ryuji has to do it.

It would be the end of class, you would be unknowingly packing your bag as Ann gives a thumbs up of approval to Ryuji. He uncomfortably walks his way towards you and calls out your name.

“Ryuji? What’s up?”

“I-I was wondering if..”

He looks for help to Ann, which he now realises that the entire PT group is now spying on the two of them. Thanks, Ann.

“U-Uh, I need some help with studying, so I’m wondering if you would hang out for a bit afterschool.”

Ryuji audibly hears the Phantom Theif members sighing in relief.

“Oh! Sure thing, where do you want to meet?”

“What about the ramen shop in Shibuya? My treat!”

“Alright! We can go on the train together to Shibuya, then!”

“C-Cool beans!”

As soon as he walked away, he was internally celebrating and had the goofiest smile on his face.

Ann will assign the guys to “prep” Ryuji for their study date while she takes the girls to “help” S/O

What do the guys do to prep Ryuji? Well, everyone gives him strange dating advice, besides Akira who now has some experience in being in a relationship.

“I get it, I get it! I won’t say anything stupid, now can ya stop pestering me?”

How do the girls help you? Well, their actually a bit more helpful! Haru and Ann initiate on styling your school uniform a certain way to make it more flashing, and also attempt at styling your hair either by putting in cute hairclips or puffing it up.

Haru will also give you a pep talk before you go home!

“You can do it, Y/N! And if Ryuji-kun breaks your heart, he’ll feel the wrath of my axe!”

“R-Right..”

You meet up with Ryuji at the station, taking the train to Shibuya. It was hot and uncomfortable, being stuffed inbetween students and office workers like a sardine can sucked.

You two sighed in relief as you got off the train, then immediately losing eachother in the ocean of people.

After you two find eachother again, the both of you awkwardly agree to link eachothers arms in order to not lose eachother.

“J-Just hold onto my arm and you’ll be good, alright?”

It wasn’t as busy as you two walked down the streets of Shibuya, the two of you gleaming once you found the ramen place.

The two of you ordered your dishes and started some small talk, it wasn’t actually as awkward as Ryuji imagined it to be. Maybe he was just that comfortable with you to forget that this was supposed to be an awkward first date.

“Oh, you asked me to come here to study, right? So, what do you need help on? We have that English test coming up soon.”

“Huh? O-Oh! I didn’t actually needed to study.. I, uh..”

Yikes, he may have just dug himself a hole to confessing why he really wanted you here.

You noticed that he was hesitant on finishing his sentence, and your mind began to race. Wait, was this meant to be a date? Your cheeks flushed at his true intentions.

“Y-Y’know, if you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t have to make up an excuse.. I-I would’ve said yes even if you asked me straightforward!”

It was silent for a few seconds, although you were in a public restaurant, it felt like the two of you were alone.

Ryuji finally broke the silence. “Y/N! Honestly, I..”

He got up suddenly, bending down onto the ground and bursting out,

“I like you! Please go out with me!”

Everyone stared at him strangely, did a highschooler just got onto the ground and confessed his feelings?

Speaking of everyone, Ann was intently watching with the rest of the Phantom Theives by her side once again. She is the matchmaker after all, it wouldn’t be efficient to leave the pair alone.

“What a flashy way to confess to someone.” Akira muttered.

“Shh! It’s gonna get good!” Futaba hushed him.

You felt embarrassed, speechless, but also quite flattered. You tried your best to look to answer.

“I-I like you too..!”

Ryuji looks up at you in shock, a blush spread across his cheeks

“F-For real?!”

You silently nod your head, while Ryuji has the biggest smile on his face. This strangely sweet moment only to be interrupted by a worker.

“Hey, kiddos, you either keep quiet or take your buisness somewhere else.”

“S-Sorry!” “Sorry!”

The rest of the date went off without a hitch! The two of you turning small talk into engaging conversations and not having a care in the world.

It was getting dark out, so the two of you went to the train station so you wouldn’t get stuck in Shibuya. Surprisingly enough, the Phantom Thieves were still keeping an eye on you two! Despite everyone else wanting to go home, Ann forced them to stay.

You and Ryuji stood in silence, the only thing you can hear is the echos of doors opening and closing, alongside the footsteps of busy people.

“Hey, Ryuji..”

“What’s up?”

You gulped, shyly fiddling with the straps of your uniform.

“Does this mean we’re dating now?”

Ryuji winced, trying to look for the right answer.

“I mean.. If you want to?”

You tried to hide the growing smile on your face, reaching your fingertips to interlock your hand with his.

“I’d like that.”

“C-Cool beans..!” He slightly squeezed your hand, his muscles soon relaxing.

[Extra]

“Well! My job here is done!” Ann patted down her uniform and grinned in pride. “I also snagged a video of this moment, too~”

“I hope their relationship goes well! We should probably leave them be now.” Haru excitingly said, her mind was running with cheesy romantic scenarios.

“Just make sure Ryuji or Y/N find it.” Akira chuckled at how prideful Ann seemed.

“Eh?! You recorded it? Let me see, let me see!” Futaba hurringly rushed to Ann’s side to take a glimpse of the video.

Afterwards, Ann will definitely tease you both with remarks of “It was so obvious you two liked eachother!” or “This bonehead here is too stupid to do it himself, so I had you help you two out.”

Ann is very happy for the two of you! She’ll prepare outfits for you whenever you and Ryuji go out and, if you’re a female, will do your makeup for you~

Dec 14 2020

Can I just say, this was so fun for me to write!!! I adore this prompt with all my heart and I hope you can tell I put my best effort into it! Please feel free to send in another Ryuji ask, this dork is adorable~

Thank you for Reading!

#ryuji x reader #p5 ryuji #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #persona 5 fanfiction #p5 #f/o ryuji

126 notes · View notes

writtenjewels · 3 years

Text

Phantom Train

The train whistle let out a piercing sound as warning that it was drawing closer to the station. Jacob bounced on his feet impatiently. He was eager for this night to be over already. Earlier in the evening fog had settled over the city and even with his sixth sense Jacob found it hard to see where he was going. The train was turning the corner and the fog lightened just enough for him to make it out. A frown tugged on his lips.

He had never seen this train before in his life. It looked old, the steel frame flaked in rust. The train rolled to a stop and lingered there. This obviously wasn't the hideout and yet Jacob felt the strange urge to board. After a few moments of hesitation he stepped forward. The moment both feet were on the train it jerked forward.

The passenger car he stepped inside was nicely furnished with carpet and plush chairs, but completely empty. Jacob moved forward in the train looking around. All of the windows were covered in thick curtains. He tugged one aside and saw only fog outside. Feeling strangely uneasy, Jacob moved on to the next car. It looked exactly like the last one down to the lack of occupants. The same was true for the car after that. Where the hell were all the passengers?

Jacob finally made it to the dining car. The space had a large table filled with various foods and drink. There was already one seated there. Jacob felt his heart skip as his eyes settled on the man.

“Hello, darling,” Maxwell Roth greeted him.

“Roth..?” Jacob approached slowly. This couldn't be real. Maxwell couldn't be here because... well... “You're dead.”

“It's been almost four months now,” Maxwell agreed. He poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip. “Normally I would be pleased to spend time with you, Jacob, but you shouldn't be here.”

“What do you mean?” It wasn't as though Jacob disagreed-- something felt very wrong about this train.

“I promised you could kill me, Jacob,” Maxwell said, ignoring the question. “And you were doing your duty as an Assassin.”

“You forced me into that situation,” Jacob argued. “You gave me a bloody invitation. We could have gone on as partners if you hadn't tried to kill a bunch of children! Then you had to go threaten more innocent people! What the hell else did you expect me to do?!”

“You went to the Alhambra today,” Maxwell noted. He folded his hands together and propped his chin on them. “Or what remains of it. Were you looking for something?”

Jacob didn't answer. The truth was he had been at the burnt remains of the Alhambra frequently since that night. He kept playing the events in his mind trying to figure out if he could've done anything differently. If, somehow, he could have reached Maxwell.

“You shouldn't be here,” Maxwell repeated, “but you were allowed to board. You need to face why.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think you do.” Maxwell's eyes bore into his. “You don't mourn your kills, my dear. And yet four months later you're still thinking of me.” Jacob looked away. What was this place, anyway? The seat was solid under him, the train rumbled as it moved, the food wafted with tempting odors. And there was Maxwell Roth sitting across from him, flesh and bone and bearing no marks from Jacob's blade.

Jacob's throat tightened. This couldn't be real. He dreamed of scenarios similar to this since that night, often imagined Maxwell and what he might say every time he visited the Alhambra remains. But Maxwell was most definitely dead-- Jacob still had the handkerchief with the man's blood in his pocket. He took it out now and blinked as tears blurred his vision.

“I'm in love with you,” he confessed. It was something he hadn't expected to feel toward the leader of the Blighters, of all people. But Maxwell was unlike anyone he ever met before. He sparked something in Jacob-- made him feel comfortable with himself. And even after all Maxwell did, after he wrecked everything and hurt Jacob, still it was a feeling he couldn't phrase in the past tense.

“Jacob, do you still have the knuckles I gave you?” Maxwell asked. He nodded and felt the tears escape down his cheeks. Jacob had the copper knuckles next to Maxwell's bird. He'd gotten a nervous thrill when he received them and saw the word embellished on the metal: LOVE. Up until Maxwell's last breath, Jacob hadn't been sure of the word's intention. “I fell in love with you, Jacob,” Maxwell admitted.

“Couldn't have told me that while you were alive?” Jacob huffed.

“You didn't tell me, either,” Maxwell pointed out. “Whether that would have changed anything, we will never know.” He lifted his glass to take another sip of wine. “Darling, when this train stops you need to get off and let me go on.”

“Go on where?”

Maxwell fixed him with a stare. “You know where.”

“No!” Jacob protested.

“You have to,” Maxwell insisted. “I want you to spend many more years out there in the world.”

“But...” Jacob leaned closer. “Is it such a bad thing to be with you for a little while? Don't make me do this... Don't make me lose you again.”

“I forced you to act once,” Maxwell sighed. “I won't do it again. I'm asking you, Jacob.” Once again Jacob said nothing. They sat in silence for a few moments, the train pulling them on. Jacob didn't want the train to stop moving. But if he stayed, what happened to London and all the people who needed him? He had to move on from this.

The train screeched to a halt. Maxwell walked him to the platform. Jacob thought of another time when he watched Maxwell ride away on a train. He had felt confused by the missing piece of his heart that followed Maxwell. He felt that missing piece acutely now.

“Will you be there waiting for me?” Jacob asked.

“I promise,” Maxwell nodded. Jacob smiled a little. Good or bad, he knew that Maxwell kept his promises.

He let the train move on without him.

#jacob frye #maxwell roth #rothfrye #angst

23 notes · View notes

babbushka · 3 years

Text

The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

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

When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

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

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

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

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.

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

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #supreme leader kylo ren #shape of water au #sow au #my writing #kylo ren angst #kylo ren fluff #adam driver fanfiction #adcu

92 notes · View notes

keisurin · 4 years

Text

station 16 ; kuroo tetsurou

masterlist

29 // 30 // 31

“you have now reached station 16,” the automated message ringed into your ears. you and kuroo decided to meet up there since it was the location you both linked at and the agency wasn’t too far from there. being at that station made you realised you haven’t been in miyagi for quite awhile. “it’s been almost a week, i should go home tonight or get a hotel,” you planned to yourself since komori and his family had plans and you did’t feel like staying at their house while they weren’t there.

“lost in your thoughts?” kuroo ruffled your hair. “hey! don’t mess with my hair.” kuroo giggled when you started to brush your hair out properly using your phone screen as a mirror. “don’t worry, you look good,” he spoke making you stop alomg with the fact he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear giving you goosebumps. “lets go.”

taking one train to get to your destination, with a bit of walking you reached the agency. standing infront of the door you blew into your hands for some warmth.

“nervous?” kuroo asked. “like hell i am.”

the silence you created while your eye’s were plastered into kuroo’s made him feel the cold you did. “you got this y/n,” kuroo said as he stuck out his fist for a fist bump. your eyes examined his fist then the ground. you chuckled softly thinking about how friendly his gestures had been to you. so friendly like nothing happened yesterday.

the i love you. maybe kuroo forgot about it, it’s not like he gave time for that type of stuff but it had been stuck in your head. it didn’t bother you, you just wanted to know in which way. which type of i love you was it? a friendly one where someone would end up saying yea i love you but as a friend or was it the romantic type of way? one which would end up with a relationship— why were you even thinking about this? the answer doesn’t matter. you snapped out of you thoughts knowing that being here could potentially end up with you having a successful career, you should have to worry about what you he intended or didn’t.

“it’s you and me?” you smiled and fist bumped kuroo making him smile.

“it’s you and me.”

you walked in the agency having to go through some official personnel. the entrance smelled like really good paper, there was muffled talking and some camera’s clicking sounds. felt like home to you or at least a heaven.

“this is ms.kane’s room, she’s free to meet up with you now,” one of the workers guided you two and left with a smile and a bow.

wanting this nervousness to go away you straight away entered. “goodmorning ms.kane, it’s an honour to be here,” you knew how confident you can be. this is any other meet up you’ve have with your friends. it’s okay.

“goodmorning l/n,” you noticed the shocked look she had on her face. you were afraid you looked bad or something. you took a glance at kuroo but he gave you the signal to walk in. “i see you’ve brought in kuroo aswell but y/n i didn’t think you’d look so young,” you laughed at the comment. she was so sweet, you didn’t see how this could go bad.

it seemed to be a casual job interview, “when did you start?” “why do you do photography.” all simple answer questions. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for photography. you don’t know what you’d be doing without photography, life would probably just be extremely boring without it. you three we’re having a grandtime, she asked if kuroo would like to model for them to which he said a simple maybe. at this point he was kinda just sitting there like he was you manager or better yet, your bodyguard.

but suddenly, kane’s voice got deeper, “y/n, we really love your work here in kaneko and we’d be super lucky to have you here.” but. you knew something was coming. “but one of your potential models doesn’t seem comfortable with it.” you snickered to yourself. who else could it have been than kosuke nao? “we are willing to give you a chance although if you can’t cooperate then- okay that’s crazy,” kuroo stepped in. “you’re telling y/n to cooperate or else what? she’ll get fired? im sorry for my bad manners but it’s not y/n’s fault if anything happens. she is nothing but mature. i don’t know who this model is you’re taking about but i have a pretty good idea on who it is. you tell them that hey should be able to cooperate cause y/n knows what is right to do.”

there was silence filling the room, you saw the way kuroo’s eyebrows furrowed angrily. “i understand. i’m sorry,the model kosuke is just a very trusted model here at kaneko- ah so it was kosuke,” kuroo once again cut in. “did he do something to you?” kane was clearly curious.“constant backlash on y/n since last year, the cause of y/n’s fall down, spread of rumours, took y/n’s photos and said he took him by himself. he’s not my most favourite person i’ve met this year,” you couldn’t help but hold in your smile. he sounded like such a badass, a badass that was saving you? heaven.

“i had no idea, im so sorry this happened to you y/n and i’m sorry for assuming way too quickly though i will have to speak to kosuke first.” you nodded and took a glance at kuroo who was staring at you. “thank you,” you mouthed to him. “well this interview was fun,” kane awkwardly laughed. “y/n you are such a strong person, thank you for coming here today and speaking on this situation. thank you aswell kuroo. for the mean time i still have to discuss this so please be patient and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” the professional talk made you cringe yet you liked the reassurance that you still had a chance.

after a few more words, you and kuroo were dismissed but before you two were about to leave, kane called you two, “by the way, i would like to know, are you two dating?” you choked on your saliva. “i- um no?” you quickly respoded to which kane laughed and smiled. “i see, well see you soon l/n.” swiftly bowing and leaving you and kuroo looked at each other once again.

it seemed to be a thing that would happened every hour with you two. that quiet yet comfortable few seconds of just looking into each others eyes. but this time it was different. you jumped in for a hug. the height difference made you tip toe a bit. “this is probably going to be my 420th thank you to you,” you softly chuckled. “that number, really?” “shh don’t talk about it.”

you both parted from the hug, “uh i’ll walk you back to komori’s place?” he asked. “oh no it’s okay i have to like transport my bags from sakusa’s place then find a hotel cause i was supposed to go back to miyagi today but then the interview came and i’m kinda tired so i don’t have the energy, and now komori isn’t even home so i don’t really wanna stay there like it’s a lounge area.” “sakusa allowed you to keep your bags at his place? impressive.” “right?” you giggled and started to walk to the exit and hummed trying to plan what do to. “you want to stay at my place?” that offer made you jump. “damn kuroo, get my number first, be a gentleman!” you joked. “sleep on the streets tonight.” “why sleep on the streets when i can sleep on your cold floor!” “because you belong to the streets.” you had the pikachu shocked face activated an kuroo had his hyena laugh on. “let’s go collect your bags,” kuroo ruffled your hair like he did earlier.

haa. you were falling for him.

taglist status: closed

taglist - @roseonfireinwinter @chaelysian @june-phantom @starry-sunrise @montys-chaos @dae-kirei @mx-minxx @cece-lives-here @dekumiya @chokemelevi @animewithmemes @anhphunnnn @firebonbon @vanilla-beanzz @princessmidas @shslmel @nekomateammanager @deimmortales99 @peteunderoos @airheadpillar @princeabomination @yafriendlyfangirl @krxstynnn @mxshimoo @nekomateammanager @listless-motion @heyheysey @ntngann @hadeswh0re @doublekrecs @boosyboo9206 @prcttylittlcthing @rachelexe @simpletype @hallothankmas @euphorihan @kisskenma @bellesowl @just-snog-already @kageyamasgirl @shigarakiskitten @elianetsantana @makemealive @saturnfarie @fckkei @amberisnotcrazy @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @sbaepsae @mint-mai @winunk

#station 16!#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo smau #kuroo #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu smau #hq smau #kuroo x reader

129 notes · View notes

setsuntamew · 3 years

Text

So, Persona 5 Royal, huh?

Full disclosure: I had gotten about halfway through November on Wednesday and finished it out Saturday night, which took uhhh about 65-70 hours? Some of that was sitting there waiting for the PS4 controller to recharge or listening to music in the Thieves Den while eating, but I still feel like I need to own up to how extremely bad I am at making good decisions with my life XD

MOVING ON, THOUGH, HOLY SHIT. P5 was a very good game, but Royal’s additions & changes made it incredible. I like the ending way more; I think it’s more emotionally fulfilling and meaningful, especially with everyone’s more defined future plans. Definitely felt like everyone had more growth in the end!! Which is something I’d always thought P5 was lacking.

Snip snip for spoilers and the fact that this post ended up being too damn long, oops! the last third is basically Akechi feels and analyzing his ending, so......yeah XD

Part of why I plowed through SO much of Royal in so little time is....Akechi XD Like okay, this is my stupid fandom blog, I can be excited about him all I want!!! I got to Sae’s Palace and just....I couldn’t put it down. @dragonofeternal and I ordered an embarrassing amount of takeout instead of cooking because we just had to see how everything with Maruki and the third semester was gonna go down. I’d already been dying along the way because Akechi’s confidant dates are so good, I just. Fuck!!!

Also, look, for the entirity of Shido’s boss fight and the depths of Mementos/Yaldabaoth/etc, we’d look at each other every few minutes and just be like AKECHI SHOULD BE HERE WITH US, HE DESERVES TO GET HIS VENGEANCE ON HIS SHITTY DAD AND FORCED DESTINY!!!!!

December 24th had to be the longest god damn day in Akira’s life because like. Final exam grades are posted in the morning! He goes to school and then dives into hell, crawls his way back out, briefly dies by fading from human cognition, fights an actual fucking god, and then....ends up dissociating in Shibuya until Sae shows up and is like “oh hey thanks for everything you did, please sign up for being arrested now.” And while he’s still reeling from that, Akechi walks up to take his place, like some kind of bullshit knight in shining armor schtick, and leaves no room for conversation.

AND THEN WE HAVE TO GO ON A DATE

I romanced Hifumi this time around, because I wanted Akria to bang a girl who is just so incredibly out of his league, but....it’s not necessarily that I forgot I was dating someone, more that it had been *so many hours of plot* that I was emotionally exhausted. Like, Hifumi texted me and I was just like. Right. RIGHT. It’s still Christmas Eve, somehow. I was at *school* this morning. The whole world merged with Mementos briefly in the middle of this, Akechi is somehow alive, and I guess I’m going on a date now????

I do appreciate how many “god I’m just dissociating my way through this” conversation options there were for the date, tbh. I feel bad though, I really like Hifumi, but I feel like Akira is not giving a date his full emotional attention at that specific time. It feels a bit like emotional whiplash, more so than I remember it being in P5? Maybe it’s because I played it 4 years ago and there wasn’t the added emotional weight of Akechi’s reappearance, but it was just like....a lot, in Royal.

AND THEN THE NEW YEAR HAPPENED. I’d been spoiled on large parts of the third semester, mostly because Royal’s been out for a year already and I’m too curious for my own good. I’d also somehow lied to myself, saying I didn’t have time to play another Persona game right now, and yet here I am, 171 hours of game play within exactly a month, kicking myself for not knowing how deep in Persona hell I would get XD

Which is to say, as soon as the new year started, it felt I was drowning in anxiety. I knew something was wrong, I knew they were in a false reality, but knowing that sure as fuck didn’t make it easier to go through. If anything, it was somehow worse, knowing that it was all gonna come crumbling down, but I didn’t yet know the exact details, only the broad strokes of it. Just. Every time someone talked about something that was wrong, my heart would clench.

God, I’m so fucking tired, I pulled an all-nighter on Friday so I could get through Royal before having to work on Sunday, and I am feeling it right now. Life tips: don’t do what I do XD

Every moment with Akechi felt like borrowed time, at least for me, because I knew what was coming. I spent so much time in Mementos with him; I ended up putting just him and Akira in my party and plowing through everything, including trouncing the Reaper over and over just for the hell of it. I got his ultimate weapons, I spent so many nights in the jazz club with him that he ran out of dialogue options, and I still took him back for more. I accidentally failed to EVER trigger Sumire’s Showtime because every fight was just Akira and Akechi against the world, because fuck it, I’m playing this for fun!! If I want to play with them in stupid costumes and no one else in the party, I’m gonna. Royal did such an incredible job giving Akechi more depth and development: it was all I could hope for, and it made it that much fucking worse to know what was in store for him.

Somehow, I thought it would be harder for me to make the decision to refuse Maruki’s deal, since fuck, fuck what I wouldn’t give for Akechi to be alive???? But I barely hesitated, only really stopping because I had to emotionally brace myself for it, because a reality where he can’t carve out his own fate would be a disrespect to everything their relationship is built on.

I have a whole shit ton of feelings about post-beating Maruki but they’re basically all Akechi related meta so somehow they ended up at the end of this post, I’m sorry XD

I understand that they had to keep the going to jail bit because 1) Akechi didn’t turn himself in, Akira did and 2) it leads to the final events of the game, but let me just say....the emotional roller coaster of fighting Maruki, almost failing multiple times, waking up in jail, the Phantom Thieves & friends getting Akira out of jail, celebrating that, and then getting thrown into Valentines Day was a LOT for my heart to take. Once again, didn’t forget I had a girlfriend, just got too invested in the plot to really be thinking about her. It’s less than two weeks after the fight with Maruki and somehow, everything is supposed to be okay????

The scene with everyone talking about their future plans is such good character growth, though. Everyone feels like they’ve truly grown and are making decisions that, even though they might be painful or hard at times, are ultimately very important to them. It’s a really good contrast to the “almost everyone goes to Shujin and they all stay in Tokyo forever without doing anything for themselves” Maruki’s perfect reality bad end.

Standing in the Underground Mall on White Day, being told I had to get flowers but finally being able to have control of Akira again was....so bittersweet. The fact that the location of the date is the aquarium is a low fucking blow, and I almost threw the controller across the room I was so upset. Like. THE AQUARIUM IS UNLOCKED BECAUSE AKECHI HAS TICKETS HOW FUCKING DARE SOJIRO SUGGEST IT LIKE MY HEART ISN’T STILL ACHING????? God, speaking of that: The fucking god damn Featherman video game tore my heart out because I ended up playing it WHILE WORKING ON SHIDO’S PALACE and I cried a ton about Gray Pigeon because of course they had to dig the emotional knife in even deeper!! Just fuck me up, it’s fine, I’m just dying!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ended up scrolling through his texts to find the group chats that still had Akechi in them, and fuck, it was a LOT. Like. Maybe it’s because I’m too invested in the two of them, but it was probably the worst emotional whiplash of the whole game. Like, how am I supposed to go play happy with anyone while staring at texts from a reality built of lies? It wasn’t real but the proof lives on in his phone and his heart, and I’m still fucked up over it.

HOWEVER. FUCKING. I SPENT LIKE HALF AN HOUR BEING EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED ABOUT ALL THIS AND THEN DISCOVERED THE BASTARD STILL HAD ALL HIS EQUIPMENT, INCLUDING THE ULTIMATE MALE ARMOR!!! He returned his shit after Sae’s Palace even though he thought Akira was dead, but this time it didn’t get fucking returned to my inventory, so he must have fucking run off with all his shit!!!!!!! Why the hell did none of it get returned if he was never alive in the true reality? Like I know it'll be returned for a new game+ but I like to nitpick game mechanics for story reasons, because one of the things I love most about video games is the experience of them as another layer to the story. The texts from the third semester shouldn’t exist anymore, since they never really existed, but there they are. Akechi insisted that he has a gap in his memory after Shido’s Palace up until seeing Akira on Christmas Eve, but who can say that wasn’t related to Maruki tampering with reality or some other Persona-related reason?

I mean. I got the full and complete True Ending; I saw him in the train station. If that’s not Akechi, then who the fuck is it? Atlus made sure to put the work in to make him a part of not just the main story but also, especially, the third semester, and for what....to have his final time on screen be as the butt of the joke, squished underneath everyone in the Mona-copter? As much as it hurts, his end in Shido’s Palace matters; it fits his character and he gets to go out fighting- carving his own path, really. In Royal, barring the tiny glimpse of someone who’s probably him in the train station, the last we see of him is when he watches Joker let go of the rope to finish off Maruki. I know we got the heart to heart where Akira agrees to reject Maruki’s deal and Akechi insists that he’d rather be dead than live in a false reality, but.....no one even says goodbye to him. It’s tragic, it’s painfully lonely, but it doesn’t feel right for such a major character.

Also, as undignified as it is, for the first time ever, Akechi looks like he actually belongs in the Phantom Thieves in that final moment. He’s never been the butt of their jokes before; they always kept him at arms’ reach and he took himself too seriously to be included, but for that brief moment, it really felt like he was part of their group. He stopped lying about himself for their last month together, and so even if they don’t all like him, they can make that decision based on the truth, instead of layers of lies. His death is all the more tragic for this; a life cut short just when he’s finally finding a place he belongs. But his death was already painful; why make it so, so much worse?

Final thing: I’m gonna be spending a ton of time in the Thieves Den trying to find Akechi’s opinions on everything, but also....hey. HEY. What do those six stars that Jose (probably?) painted on the wall mean? Is it just a reference to Persona 6???? LIKE????? I HAVE QUESTIONS. SO, SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!!

Anyway, I’ve gotta go cry into my Starbucks and desperately try to focus on actually doing my job at work, but I loved Royal deeply and cannot wait to drown in it ;w;

#persona 5 royal #p5r #persona 5 royal spoilers #goro akechi #akeshu #I have just so many Akechi feels I'm sorry #long post #persona 5 royal meta

23 notes · View notes

cinnoasch · 3 years

Text

Sunflower [Goro Akechi x Reader]

A/N: Who doesn’t like flowers? (well except for the pollen allergies)

Word Count: 1494

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

It was about seven o’clock in the morning and here you were pacing back and forth in front of Akechi’s apartment door. You’d been planning this little outing for weeks, and when it came time to ask Akechi to come with, you were nervous to say the least. He was always so busy with his detective work and it seemed that he was always appearing on TV as of late. With all of the buzz about the Phantom Thieves and the police frantically searching for clues, it was a shot in the dark.

Taking a deep breath in, you knock on his apartment door. You did notify him the night before that you’d be showing up at his door early the next day. When he asked what for, you only told him that he would have to wait until morning. A few seconds later, the door swings open revealing Akechi. His hair was slightly messy, and he had bags under his eyes, signifying that he probably hasn’t had a good night’s sleep the last couple of nights.

“When you said early, I thought you meant nine, not seven.”

“Nine isn’t exactly early Akechi. Also, you look terrible.”

He chuckles, “Thank you for noticing. So, what was so important that you had to come to my apartment at seven in the morning?”

Shuffling in place, you clasp your hands behind your back, “I was wondering if you’d like to hang out today... I know I should have given an advanced notice, but I was worried that you might be busy. But then again, what difference does it make if-”

Akechi’s laughter cuts you off as you stare at him surprised.

“Y/N, you’re rambling again. Besides, even if I wasn’t free, who is to say that I wouldn’t clear my schedule for you?”

“I- you would do that?”

“Perhaps. Depends on my mood I guess.” Akechi says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, “Always so dramatic aren’t we now, Detective Prince?” You begin pushing Akechi back into his apartment, “Now go get ready, we have a long day ahead of us.”

“And where are we heading?”

“Change first. Questions later!”

After Akechi changes, the two of you head to the train station.

“So will I finally get my question answered as to what you have planned?”

You nod with a grin, “We are going to Hokkaido.”

“Hokkaido? That’s quite far isn’t it?”

“Well, I figured with everything going on, you could use a break from Tokyo. Even if it’s just for a day.”

Akechi smiles, “Thank you, Y/N.”

You glance back, keeping your hand on the handles that hang above, “What for?”

“For being my friend. For caring. It really means a lot to me... especially since no one has been there for me before.” Akechi’s voice was barely audible, drowned out by the chatter of the other passengers on the subway, but you heard him loud and clear.

His eyes seem to glaze over, any emotion that was present earlier was gone. Sighing, you look away from Akechi and look out the window. You knew very little about his past but you could tell it bothered him. You knew that there was more than he was letting on. Even with his cheerful, polite, princely demeanor, you knew on the inside that Akechi was probably hurting.

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

Soon after a three and a half hour train ride, you finally arrive in Sapporo, the capital city of the Hokkaido prefecture.

Stepping off the subway, you turn your head to look at Akechi, “So, before we head to our real destination, would you like to sightsee and grab lunch? I hear they have really good pancakes~”

“Again with the pancakes?” Akechi frowns a bit but he smiles, “Let’s save those for the trip back, shall we? On the other hand, I would like to try their seafood ramen. Hokkaido is famous for its seafood after all.”

“Sounds good to me! Let’s go!”

You explore the city, taking in the sights and the livelihood of the people around you. Once you found a restaurant, you stopped for a quick bite and resumed walking around the city.

“You know after that ramen, hiking up one of those mountains seems like a good idea.”

“Well then, why don’t we come back and hike one day? It would be a fun trip, would it not?”

“I’d like that. But only when you have a free day.”

Akechi grins, “I could make everyday a free day if meant I’d be spending my time with you.”

“Sure, sure.” You laugh a bit. “I’m sure Sae-san would not appreciate it if you did that. The police force included. You’re an asset to them.”

“They won’t be missing me. Anyways, where to next? We haven’t reached our real destination yet.”

“Ah, right. Well, just follow me.”

You walk a bit faster so Akechi couldn’t see your face. He had that look again. After you brought up his job, the mood had immediately soured. Were you just saying the wrong things? How else were you supposed to get him to talk about himself? Whenever you brought up anything about himself, he’d simply brush it off and move onto another topic. You knew that some people might just want to keep their life private, Akechi included since he was so popular now. But did he really have to keep things from you? You were his closest friend, which even surprised you to say the least. Yet you barely knew anything about him. About who he really was.

“Y/N?”

You flinch, turning to see Akechi walking next to you.

“Are you okay? You look a bit...tense.”

You shake your head with a grin, “I’m fine. Now, how do you feel about flowers?”

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

“This is where you wanted to take me? It’s beautiful...” Akechi says staring at the large flower field before him.

“Isn’t it? I figured a change of scenery could help you relax. Plus, you can take some home as a souvenir of our trip.”

“Are we really allowed to take some with us? I wouldn’t want to disrupt the plant life that they have built here.”

You smile gently, holding out your hand, “Don’t worry. It’s open to everyone and the owners don’t mind. Now then, let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Akechi takes your hand and you pull him along into the field of flowers.

The two of you walk in the fields, taking in the vivid colors of the surrounding flowers. You chatted, laughed and saw the brightest smile Akechi has ever had in a while.

As the sun set in the distance, you and Akechi sit on a bench in the flower field, taking in the view before you.

“Before we go, how about we each pick a flower for each other?” Akechi asks.

“For each other, huh? That sounds like fun! Meet you back here in five?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As you set out through the field, you were searching for one flower in particular, a red poppy. From your time working at the flower shop, you learned that red poppies were a symbol of “true love”. Of course, Akechi would have no knowledge of this, at least you hoped not. In a way, this would serve as an indirect confession, until you were ready to confess for real. With everything Akechi had been through, even if you weren’t made aware of it, you knew that he could use someone to be there for him. This was a declaration of that. That you would stay by his side through everything, no matter what.

The two of you meet at the bench once again, holding your flowers behind your backs.

“Since it was your idea, I’ll go ahead and go first.”

“Please, be my guest.”

Removing your hand from behind your back, you reveal the red poppy to Akechi and a small smile graces his face.

“A red poppy? Are you poking fun at me for being what you consider extravagant?”

You laugh, “No, no. Of course not. I mean you are somewhat dramatic at times, but extravagant is pushing it. It just reminded me of you, red is the color of your eyes, you know.” You take a few small steps closer to Akechi, brushing his hair away and tucking the flower behind his ear. “It’s just a reminder that I’ll be here whenever you need me. No matter what.”

You step back, your face red from the close proximity, “Anyway now time for your flower reveal, Mr. Detective Prince.”

Akechi chuckles at the nickname as he shows the flower he chose for you.

A sunflower.

“A sunflower? Interesting choice if I must say. May I ask why?”

Akechi takes a step towards you, brushing your hair away with a smile. He holds the flower up to his lips, placing a kiss on it before tucking it behind your ear. “A sunflower for the sunflower in my life.”

#goro akechi #p5 #p5 royal #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #goro akechi x reader

103 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 10)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Okay, I’m not happy with most some parts of this chapter, but I wanted to post it anyways cause I don’t really know how to make it better, and also I didn’t wanna be late on the Tuesday uploads so...here you go. Hope you like it, and I would love to hear from you! :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou

The King is too busy to demand your presence at his side more than a few scarce times a day, so you are free of the reminder of the new set of chains that are to be set upon you soon.

Still, it’s only two days since your…fate was sealed that you find yourself once again unmoored by the King’s whims and impossible to understand desires.

Helios has barely stated crossing the skies when you are roused from sleep, your heart beating the pace of a rabbit and images of a woman smiling behind a red veil haunting you with their etherealness, your mind not being able to latch onto what the Gods tried telling you.

When you are sent out to collect some crates of herbs and spices from a merchant that arrived the night before, you catch sight of, more than the usual curious or distrusting eyes set upon you, a single eyed man following your moves.

You turn to catch him, and he doesn’t bother pretending not to be following you. The white-haired man is a sight you recognize as one of the King’s warriors, and realization falls upon you.

Not only do you have people stationed outside of the home you sleep in, or soldiers bound to move you from place to place at the King’s whims, but you have men dedicated to following you when you walk around.

The old warrior probably senses your anger and unasked questions, and walks past you towards the crates you left on the ground, picking them up with ease.

“I’m here in case you try something…ill-advised.”

“Like working?”

“Like escaping.” He supplies, chuckling amusedly when you wrestle the crates from his arms with a huff.

Furrowing your lips, you stalk your way back to the apothecary. You could swear the old man makes his footsteps heavier on purpose as he walks behind you.

Almost half a day later one of the elders is teaching you -more patiently than you deserve- how to make a poultice to stop a wound from bleeding when the door opens suddenly, startling you from your work.

You watch with wide eyes as the King walks into the small shop, and judging by the sharp intakes of breath, the mutters and stares, the rest of the women are as surprised as you.

He still hasn’t announced his deranged plan to make you his wife, or at least hasn’t announced it to anyone that would start a rumor, for -thankfully enough- to the people of this kingdom you seem to be another freed slave, another merchant from a faraway land.

“Priestess.” Ivar calls out, and you walk from behind one of the half-walls, greeting him with the same taunt.

“Viking.”

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, pale eyes looking over the shop with disinterest.

You frown, recalling the anger that coursed through you earlier today, “Was I to be in my cell?”

He frowns, a furrow in his nose, “You are not a prisoner.”

“Then why are there armed men following me?” You fire back, quickly.

“Is there any other way to get you to do as I say?” He shoots back, the same taunt as that day in the docks, with Stithulf’s -his- chains around your wrists.

“I don’t think you really want me obedient, my King.” You dare say, and the smile you offer him reminds you of the one you used to sport before, when you felt free and safe. Right before starting the sprint to cross the fast spring on a jump, your hair wild and feet bare, your heart beating fast in equal parts fear and excitement.

When he limps closer to you, you remain in your place and look into his eyes, aware the King can sense your quickened breaths and rapid heart, but hoping he mistakes lust for fear.

A part of you that starved amongst the flowers of Eleusis rejoices in the risk, the thrill of it all.

And when you smile, you draw Ivar’s gaze to the curve of your mouth. And when his tongue runs over his lower lip, you realize you are not the only one whose breath is quickened.

“You will do as I say.” He orders lowly, through gritted teeth even if his eyes are still trained on your lips.

“You will stop treating me like a prisoner,” You offer back, the despair of having nothing to lose emboldening you more than you thought possible. And even if the words feel like poison, you finish, “And I will obey.”

“No,” He admits after a few moments of silence, voice barely a murmur, blue eyes travelling over your face and exposed skin, “I don’t think I want you to.”

“What do you want, then?” You ask, your voice just as hushed.

His eyes settle on yours, always angry and of course determined, but carrying now a hint of the almost-softness, of the hesitation, you believe you saw in those days spent in Aneridge.

He leans closer, voice quiet by your ear, “I want to offer an arrangement.”

“An arrangement.”

“Meet me tomorrow, and every day after that, Priestess,” He says, his voice carrying with authority even if the glint in his eyes almost begs you to defy him again. “Have all your meals with me.”

“Why do you ask this of me?”

“I told you, Priestess, you and I are not done talking,” He says, eyes searching yours, “In exchange, I will…loosen the chains.”

“I thought guests had no chains.”

“My guests do,” He dismisses, making irritation flare within you. Eyes searching yours, he presses, “They will come find you tomorrow, take you to me. You will have your day meal alone with me.”

“Are you ordering me to? Or asking?” You whisper back, pulling back so you can see his face. There’s a twitch of irritation, the very clear sign of gritted teeth, and a flare of something impulsive and that begs for a show of cruelty in his pale eyes; but he seems to hold himself back.

“I’m asking.” The King grits out finally. You allow yourself a small smile of triumph, that feels a little too genuine when you remind yourself who you are dealing with.

“Alright. I shall see you tomorrow then.”

The King smirks, and when he pulls away you recall the phantom feeling of his burning warmth and feel cold, but say nothing.

When the white-haired man closes the door forcefully behind him, you feel the eyes of every woman on you. You push yourself away from the table you were almost sitting on while the King pushed you into it, standing on shaking legs and trying to bring your breathing back to normal.

“That’s a first.” One of the women quips, a tall and blonde woman you notice carries the strut and posture of a warrior.

“A first what?” You ask cautiously.

“A first time that someone survives being that unbearably stupid,” She states, startling a laugh out of one of the others. You allow yourself a small smile, and the woman pats your back with quite a bit of strength. “You ought to be more careful, girl. Why do you test the man so?”

You can offer nothing but a sheepish grimace. She sighs, but there’s light in her eyes.

“At least we know the witch has a Viking side to her. No soft-hearted Greek would look into Ivar the Boneless’ eyes with that kind of anger.” Other quips from her place sorting one of the newest shipments of herbs and spices.

“Anger? Oh, that wasn’t anger, child.” An elder says with a laugh, directing a knowing side-glance to you. You pretend focusing on grinding Yarrow to avoid giving her an answer, although you fear your silence gave her one.

Conversation switches to the strange wares an Ottoman merchant has brought in as one of the elders starts distributing the bowls of food amongst the women, and it feels like being next to the fire on one of the cabins in the Silk Roads, Sieghild at your side guiding your hands to make arrows correctly.

You catch the eyes of the Völva on you while you are supping, and the gifted woman offers you a small nod of recognition and something else, but says nothing. You can still feel her gaze on you throughout the night.

When you go to bed, you catch tendrils of something you cannot quite place making you feel uneasy, but dismiss it and close your eyes hoping sleeps claims you soon.

Somewhere in the middle of the night you awaken with a jolt, the unfamiliar feeling of weight settling in your bed drawing a gasp out of your mouth. You catch a glimpse of blonde curls and blue eyes you know well, even if you don’t trust their intentions fully, and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling.

The faint smell of mint fills your nose as Freydis settles on your side. It feels like a tendril of a voice, the way the smell makes something odd and bitter blossom in your chest; but you cannot place your finger on what it could mean.

“You are a fool,” The girl chastises as she lays on your bed, leaving almost no space between the two of you. You grit your teeth and roll your eyes, but say nothing. She presses, “You should learn to play better, witch.”

This makes you rise from your bed, one of your hands supporting your weight as you sit and the other holding the sheets to your chest as your upper body leans towards the girl.

Playing games kept you from freedom once too many times.

Fooling Narses into believing you loved him broke your own heart, but you always assumed when the war was over and you were -most likely- dead, it wouldn’t matter.

But it did matter, and playing games chained you. To be an Anassa when all you wanted to do was run, to be a betrothed when you wanted to be your own before anyone’s, to be part of a Saxon’s army when you wanted to bleed every Christian for all they were worth.

Maybe playing games is the reason you are here today, a slave to a mad King’s whims and delusions.

“I know how to play, Freydis, I choose not to. One of the last choices I am able to make.” You bite back, the painful words uneasy in your tongue even as you bare your teeth in a snarl.

But the girl does not falter, her hand closing over yours where it rests on the bed, and her eyes certain when they meet yours,

“You have a chance to be what some only dream of, remember that.”

How much does she truly know? You narrow your eyes, wondering who could know of Ivar’s promises and demands other than you and the Gods themselves.

A part of you wants to tell her that if it is your place under Ivar the Boneless’ boot what she wants, she can gladly take it; but no, you don’t think that’s what she wants.

After considering her in silence for a few moments, you gently take your hand out of her grasp.

“I am sorry, but you and I dream of very different things,” You mutter, laying back down on the bed, “Being a voice in a madman’s ear is not what I aim to be.”

“A means to an end, witch.” She reminds you quietly, but you are shaking your head before she is even done speaking.

“Not by my means, I’m afraid.”

____

Your eyes narrow at the food placed before you, with what looks to be blueberries but not quite sprinkled inside the soft and creamy mixture.

“Priestess.” The King calls out, and when you lift your gaze you find him already watching you, something like exasperated curiosity in his pale gaze.

You offer a shrug and return your gaze to your plate, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Food,” He supplies dryly, offering you a downturned mouth as if ti say it’s true when you glare at him. After taking a bite out of what looks like a strange kind of bread, he supplies, “Färskost.”

You still have no idea what that means, but you nod and try the cream that tastes vaguely of cheese, and the berries that are not quite the ones of your home but surely taste like them.

You test the syllables in your tongue as you mix in more berries. A sudden huff of choked laughter startles you and you lift your gaze back to the Viking.

Before saying anything, he takes a drink from his cup, but you see the mocking smile on his lips.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You defend yourself, almost offended even if your lips want to curve into a smile as well.

“Sure.” He promises, boyish smile still on his lips, and you could swear a small chuckle leaves his lips -this time true, honest, instead of mocking or mischievous- when you roll your eyes at him.

“Váll' eis kórakas.” You mutter.

“What does that mean?”

“You are a smart man, you surely know.” You tell him instead, raising your chin with what you know is an annoying display of arrogance.

“Witch, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” The Prince, the man you recognize as Hvitserk, calls out as he approaches the both of you, easy smile on full lips. Stealing a glance to his brother, he adds, “I have to admit, you look much more alluring adorned in silk rather than chains.”

You recognize the jab at his brother even if you have none to speak of, and it is foolish protectiveness that makes you smile but still reply,

“It takes a smart man to see beauty in either way, they say.”

His surprise is written in the raise of his eyebrows, but his eyes shine with mirth; and where Ivar may have shown anger at your response, he only breathes a laugh.

“Not only beauty, it seems.”

You incline your head as a show of gratitude for the compliment, easy smile still on your lips even if it carries a bit of falsehood to it. You were never one to like pleasantries.

“Did you do as you were told to?” Ivar interrupts, leaning back in his seat and bringing a cup to his lips.

“My scouts say Ubbe will arrive in two weeks.” Hvitserk offers as an answer, but it is apparently not enough for the younger Viking.

“Will you finally cower and sail back to Dublin with him?”

It is with a sigh the other man answers, “I don’t know, Ivar. Clearly Kattegat has nothing I should stay for, so I might as well.”

The King raises his cup over his head, as if gesturing towards his brother, and though there’s nothing nonchalant in the gesture, he makes it appear so.

“And you have my blessing to do so! Why don’t you go ahead and find a Saxon woman to marry, like Sigurd?” His eyes narrow, “Might as well disappoint the Gods, like you disappoint father’s memory.”

“You think father would be proud of you?” The other man accuses, stepping closer.

“At least I’ve achieved something. I have my fame, a fame that will one day be even greater than father’s,” Ivar boasts, squaring his shoulders as his gaze defies Hivtserk’s, “What have you done, other than following others?”

“I’ve kept you from going to war with your own blood. I’ve prevented our brothers from killing you like they wanted to,” The Prince hisses, and at the vitriol in his tone you take your eyes from his enraged face to look at the King, who meets his eyes unwaveringly. “I kept Ubbe from killing you like you almost killed Sigurd.”

“Shut your mouth!”

The way the King’s hand quickly goes to the axe at the table, eyes furious like you have never seen before as they meet his brother’s, you have a feeling he was not supposed to bring that up.

Prince Hvitserk steals a glance to you, maybe gauging your reaction, maybe telling you to run, maybe asking for help. You remain still regardless.

“What will you do with that, Ivar?” Hvitserk dares, motioning to the axe on the table with his head. His eyes are hard but in the way he stands you see he is not certain about how this will unfold.

With a knot of uncertainty and tension in your chest, you keep your eyes jumping between the Prince and the King, waiting with baited breath to see what happens.

You remember when Narses laid his army at your feet, when he agreed to have his men fight the Saracens the way you told him to. You remember that thrill, that thrumming under your skin, that certainty that you held power unlike any other in the palm of your hand.

That was nothing, nothing¸ compared to the feeling of having those two armies crash against one another, the raiders and the defenders, the Saracens and the Attics, the enemies and the allies. Feeling the ground shake under your feet as they advanced, hearing the sound of war, witnessing the clash of the warriors; nothing compared to it, nothing taught you more of power than that first battle.

And in the stretched-thin stillness of the room, as the two brothers face one another, you cannot help but think about how similar it is to the moment the marching armies clash.

But with an irritated huff and leaning his body back onto the chair Ivar ends it before it can even begin. The Prince relaxes his stance as well, grunting something to himself before he takes a seat in the long table.

He doesn’t take his eyes of his brother though, not even as he calls your name.

Without waiting for you to respond, he says, “Whitehair will show you to your rooms. Go, and I’ll call for you later.”

“I have my own room?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and his eyes meet yours. The simmering rage you see in them startles you, but it doesn’t scare you even though you know it should.

“You are not a prisoner, are you?”

“This is not what I asked for.” You tell him lowly, even though you are already standing up from your seat.

“This is all you are getting.” He promises cruelly, and you are dismissed with but a gesture.

____

So that’s it, I hope you liked it. And, as always, I would love to hear what you think.

The food mentioned here it’s a sort of yogurt made in the Viking Age according to this source, made from cheese. The blueberries are bilberries, the Northern European version of the berries, according to this.

And what she says in Greek is a curse that I think is in Aristophanes, meaning “To the crows”, but that can be translated as a way of saying go fuck yourself, and I think it’s beautiful lmao. It has to do with the desecration of the dead bodies by the crows and all that, apparently.

Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you Saturday with Chapter 11!! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine #νοσταλγία masterlist

128 notes · View notes