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jimlingss · 4 years

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Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall. “My lady!” There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach. “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!” You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!” It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons. You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat. Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful. It’s fun. Especially when there are people desperately chasing you. “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath. One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!” But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice— “What are you doing?” The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze. Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.” “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you. “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.” And she’s quick to throw you under the bus. If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her. Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself. “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?” “I—” “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?” You are a child. Technically. The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom. You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs. “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—” It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime. But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth. The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight. And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing. // “Why did she faint?!” When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again. Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague. Fuck. It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden. “Well….your grace…” “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!” “Herrick…” Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells. It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC. “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says. Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!” “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.” In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence. “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs. You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies. But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing. Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed. You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room. Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too. Shit. When does the game start again? The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire. You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left…. But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids. Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow. There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach. No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable. It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others. “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step. All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side. But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt. “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!” Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines. Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?! But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum. “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs. “My stomach hurts!” Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.” He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever. Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours. You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long. “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.” Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow. But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you. Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you. You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level. She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?” Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod. “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.” As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood. You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again. You get into the carriage without another word. Well fuck. What now? A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children. But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice. You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s. Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon. Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens. The beginning. The climax. The end. “Anastasia.” Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are. The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place. Pansies. Orchids. Marigold. Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade. But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight. A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches. Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored. “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.” “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away. Oh fuck. It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia. You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side. “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?” “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.” You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.” The Duke smiles. “Thank you.” “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?” “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens. Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months. But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid. If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out. You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron. This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer. The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you. Oh god. It’s death either way. “Are the sweets not to your liking?” It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you. You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely. Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it. “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes. “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?” “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair. You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere. The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him. “What do you like playing?” he asks. You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions. “Sword fighting.” Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?” Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin. But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction. Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’. You’re a genius. You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?” Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.” Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this. “What do you like playing, Your Highness?” “Anything that’s not with girls.” You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.” “What’s servant and king?” “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!” What a little shit. How is this going to be any fun for you?! But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!” He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.” Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero. “Fetch that stick, peasant!” The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly. Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward. When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably. “Here you go, Your Highness.” You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!” Motherfucker. “Yes!” Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet. When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about. Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are. You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—” “That’s Your Highness, peasant!” You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…” “What?” You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!” For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up. “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?” You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!” Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head. His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about. And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.” You scoff. You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment…. What do seven year old boys like? What do they like? As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer. At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror. Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.” The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again. He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin. You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him. “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.” “No! Stop!” He scrambles and starts running away. You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!” “Get the bug away from me!” He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting. You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight. Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared. You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid. Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings. You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way. But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours. You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now. You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you. You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely. She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?” You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.” She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?” “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.” She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.” “Thanks! Who’re you?” She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.” You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?” “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.” Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?” Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!” You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can. Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm. Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good. The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!” She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?” “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?” Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.” You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?” Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted— “Mom?” By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most. Taehyung. You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him. “I have to go now!” Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form. To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there. He’s the villain. // “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.” You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze. Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen. But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon. This year. Springtime. You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t. You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place. You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t. A day passes as you focus on your studies. You can’t. Another two days goes by, six meals eaten. Can’t— On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up. “I have to go to the castle.” The guilt eating at you has won its battle. “Pardon me?” “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong. The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?” “I forgot something really important!” “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!” “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.” Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage. You’re in it before you can blink again. There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle. You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy. “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out. Your feet land onto the cobblestone. But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by. Instead, there’s chaos in the distance. Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves— “Did you hear?” Your head turns towards two girls. “The King’s mistress just died!” You came a moment too late.

No one cries. The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid. This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged. You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes. But for you, it’s different. The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive. And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened. Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like. But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny. And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him. At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree. He sits alone. He cries to himself. The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core. This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction. In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown. Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief. But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands. He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him. Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came. He takes your handkerchief and sniffles. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve. This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters. You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own. You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.” He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?” You don’t know what to say. Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden. This is all you can do. You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face. The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again— “Anastasia!” There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow. You leave a second later. You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?” You smile. “I got lost.” It’s futile. You know it now. Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook scenario #taehyung scenario #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #BUT WHO'S GONNA BE THE ENDGAME GUY HMMMM?

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caffeinated-cryptid · 3 years

Text

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

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

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys.

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought.

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected.

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second.

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…"

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real."

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.”

That did make Remus feel better, actually.

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey.

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.”

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

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

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning.

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself.

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly.

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.”

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

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

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well.

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was.

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road.

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully.

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

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

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons.

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence.

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following.

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too.

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor.

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course."

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead.

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said.

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor.

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

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

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man.

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer.

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex.

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once."

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know."

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?"

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!"

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call."

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary.

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him.

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs.

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist.

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out.

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body.

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused.

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails."

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul.

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space.

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

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

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up.

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people.

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow.

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb?

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off.

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself.

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

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

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after;

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!”

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

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

Case 8: the innocent.

And then:

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.”

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

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

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside.

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

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

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself.

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.”

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it."

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

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

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game.

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

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

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

#my writing #sanders sides #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #(others are mentioned)#deityfucker au #death tw #violence tw #crime tw #weapon tw #swearing tw #injury tw #(lots of warnings for this one. take care!)

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theyrejustadream-away · 6 years

Text

Soulmate!Jimin

Park Jimin; fluff

Happy late birthday Jimin! We love you!

Word count: 1769

Alright yall welcome to my first official bullet scenario

Let’s see how this goes

Ok anyways

It’s Jimin’s birthday and I wanna do something special for him

I hope he gets better,, i know it isn’t serious but still

And the whole soulmate AU is something i love wholeheartedly and i want to write one

Let’s get it (imagine jungkook saying that)

So Jimin’s a junior in college

Jimin is pretty well known on campus for his dancing and although he isn’t as outgoing or social as Taehyung or Jungkook, he still is pretty popular

Mainly because he’s hot but

So being a junior, he basically knows most of the “secrets” on campus

Like where to hang out, study, eat breakfast, you name it and he’ll tell you

Oh yeah he’s such a sweetheart

Will walk you to where you need to go if it’s dark out

Carries your books if you look like you’re about to drop them

The whole “prince charming” deal, it’s understandable if hordes of girls chase after him

Who wouldnt, right?

Welp with the creation of the Soulmate System, it sorta gets rid of the idea of unnecessary crushes

Which seems sad BUT it reduces heartbreak and all the sad stuff that comes from failed relationships

So the way it works is that everyone has a black rectangle on the inside of their left wrist

And everytime they speak to their soulmate, the rectangle gets lighter and lighter until you can read the name

Of course there are flaws and your soulmate might have a different person on their wrist or you just never end up meeting them

But we aren’t gonna talk about that, this is going to be a happy one!!

Back to Jimin

As i was saying, he always knows what places to hit up

And of course, the only way to know this is if he goes there himself

One day, he finished his last class of the day and stepped outside only to get hit with a strong gust of wind and a sudden chill

Its F A L L

Which means cafes!! Warm drinks!! Sweaters!!

Once he composes himself and fixes his hair, he starts wandering through the city surrounding his college

After drifting from place to place, he finally spots a small coffee shop that’s hidden by a fancy department store

Like it’s literally right next to the store but it’s so minimalistic that you just dont really notice it

But he does!!

So he goes in and he’s just met with warmth and soft piano melodies coming from above and the smell of something sweet in the oven and he just melts

This is exactly what he needs

Walking up to the counter, he looks at the menu and decides to get something simple

Because if this place cant make a good cappuccino then it fails in his eyes

Speaking of eyes

As he was collecting his change from the cashier, you just happened to walk in for your shift

And boy did his heart do a weird thing in his chest and he just couldnt take his eyes off of you

Honestly you were just in your uniform (white button down, navy apron, dark pants, hair up) and not in the best of moods because you may or may not have forgotten to turn on the alarm and was late for your first class

Always double check your alarms friends

Basically you were just not looking your best at the moment

But did Jimin think that?

N O PE

The poor boy almost left his wallet at the counter because he just couldnt stop looking at you

Although that may sound creepy at first, it was more of a ‘who is this angel in front of me’ stare with eyes bright and shining to the point where it was just endearing

That didnt stop the person behind him from coughing and letting him know that there is a full line right behind him ohmygod jimIN MOVE

You, on the other hand, didn’t notice a thing and went to your station where you made drinks and call out people’s names and all that jazz

He picked a seat near the back of the cafe after he ordered, where he had a view of everything

And by everything, i mean you

“She’s so pretty wow i want to talk to her but what if she thinks im weird??? What would i even say? How would i eve-”

“Jimin? Your order is ready”

“Ohmygod she said my name what do i do??”

“Jimin? Is there a Jimin here?”

“Ye-Yes!”

His voice cracks and he feels his face heat up

Gone is the charming and confident Jimin

Hello to the shy and clumsy Jimin

The poor boy almost spills his drink because he’s nervous and his voice already cracked and you’re giggling

Bless your soul for trying to hide it behind your hand and spare him the embarrassment

But you laughing isn’t helping because now he’s even more red and thinking ‘wow your laugh is so cute can you literally get any more adorable’

“Does coffee make you this nervous?”

“No, it’s the cute girl giving it to me”

He’s thankful that he didn’t embarrass himself anymore and somewhat recovered

Because now you’re the blushing one (he’s still a little pink from before but he decided he enjoys seeing you flustered more than anything)

Eventually he had to leave because wow it’s late and he still has homework to do

So he sadly walks out, taking a glance at where you were working but you were busy with another customer so you didn’t see him look at you

BUT he comes back almost everyday just to see you

It does a number on his wallet but hey, who needs money when you’re in college, right?

I’m kidding being a college kid is so expensive ohmygod

Everytime he comes by, he always tries to make you blush or laugh

Maybe at the same time

He just wants to get to know you better because you’re a really sweet person and he has this urge to hold your hand or hug you or kiss you but he pushes it down

At the same time, the mark on the inside of his wrist has been getting lighter and lighter

He can faintly make out the name hidden and he oh so desperately wants it to be you

You, on the other hand, could read the name on your wrist

Guess what?

It says Jimin!

You were so happy the day you found out

And when you saw him the next day you were just !!!!!!!

But he didn’t say anything about it.. Not even a small hint to let you know he knew

So you were confused

Did he just not like you in that way?

Or even worse

What if you weren’t his soulmate?

You confided in your best friend once you got back home after seeing him

“He didn’t even mention the mark? What if it isn’t my name?”

“Does he know your name?”

“..I think he does?”

“Wait how are you not sure??? Haven’t you guys been talking for a month now?”

A few days passed and Jimin still doesnt know your name

But his wrist says ‘Y/N’ and he can’t remember anyone with that name

So he decides that today is the day he’ll ask you for your name

Because he’s also worried that he isnt your soulmate

You knew his name already, and if he was destined to be yours why hadn’t you told him?

Did you not like him?

He kept stressing over it for hours on end and his roommate finally told him to go out and ask

Although it was just to stop Jimin from pacing around their shared dorm and making his roommate dizzy from all his sudden movements

And being Jimin, he dresses up and styles his hair

To be honest, if you hadn’t already fallen for him then you definitely did when he walked through the doors

“If your man taking you out on a date, he looks hOT”

“Jackson shut up i swear i’m going to spill hot coffee on yo- hi Jimin!”

It all goes according to plan at first

He hasn’t embarrassed himself or had his voice crack

He goes and waits near you, and since there weren’t many customers you could talk to him without having another cranky customer yell at you

looking at you, old man who came in and ordered hot water. who even does that what it wrong with you

You were still a little upset that he hadn’t mentioned anything about his mark

But you acted as if nothing was wrong

So when he just says “What’s your name?” without even saying hi, your heart sort of knew what was going to happen before you did

It started beating faster and a smile was threatening to show but before you did anything dumb, you answered

“y/n… why?”

And he gives the brightest smile, like the Sun can fight me because Jimin’s smile outshines it in this very moment

“Because I think you’re meant to be mine”

Cue the various aww’s coming from your coworkers and that sweet old couple who’s been shipping the both of you ever since Jimin brought you a lily he saw on his way that ‘reminded him of you’

Jackson also starts screaming a little and jumping because finally you two pieced it altogether

Jackson knew ever since you asked him about your whole dilemma because once you took a sick day and he ended up talking to Jimin

And coincidentally saw Jimin’s wrist and went :D

But he couldn’t say anything because he wanted the both of you to reach that conclusion on your own

Still, it was really obvious that there was something there

Back to Jimin and you,,

As soon as he said that you ran around the counter and tackled him in a huge hug

Jimin didn’t see that coming but he caught you in time and he sort of stumbled back but who cares because ohmygod he finally gets to hug you

This is all he’s been dreaming of

He feels so warm and soft and smells a little like peppermint and you can hear his heart beating just as fast and yours and his whole body is shaking with laughter because he really can’t do anything other than smile and laugh

He’s hugging you tightly and everything felt right in the world

Jimin found his other half and you found yours too!

hope you enjoyed <3

#park jimin #bts #jimin #bts jimin #bts fluff #jimin fluff #bullet scenario #fluff #soulmate au #love yourself #FIRST ONE ON THE NEW ACCOUNT #ESKETIT

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tumblunni · 6 years

Text

Aaaa phewf a good but scary dayyyyy

I totally forgot i was due for a meeting with the Super Rehab Center For Brain Bads. Its like this intensive boot camp version of therapy, basically? Its a shared housing accommodation where you'd have individual nurses and do lots of lessons and classes every day to work on your particular needs, while also having a bit of a shared community and helping you ykbow meet other people like you and such? So its very scary but also could be really good for me but also its a big commitment and aaaa

Anyway you might recall i talked about this like a year ago and as far as i knew it wasnt actually an opyion for me and i'd got my hopes up/got my anxieties up all fot nothing. Well recently they just suddenly called me back and gave us this short notice appointment! I didnt even khnow i was on the waiting list!!

So yeah it was Big Anxious to go to a big meeting with them again and with different people and a more intense assesment and discussion of the possibilities. But also now i was worried cos i didnt know anymore of i should be here? Like they originally booked me in for this because was in a REALLY bad place mentally last year, like never going outsode for weeks and never cleaning the house and not taking my pills and not going to dpctors appointments and i was just desperate to do ANYTHING that could get me out of this shitty town even if it meant living in an intensive therapy hospital communal dorm thing for a year. And now i've improved quite a bit so i dont know if maybe i was worrying too much and this is something too drastic? Like man is this for people with more serious problems? Am i taking away resources that could be helping someone more ill than me? And also i never even started getting anxious about the size of thecommitment last time, i was just desperate to move house and i didnt even tgink about how i have to survive a year of extra anxiety to fight my anxiety...

So anyway we had that meeting today and i was so freaked the fuck out that as we speak right now i cannot actually fully see and im mostly touch typing. I had so much of a panic attack that i hit off the damn eye twitching dizziness super symptom hell and i nearly fainted when i had to stand up at the end of the meeting and walk out the door. Like holy shit so much adrenaline burning thru my braaaaaainnnn!!! Im gonna be exhausted in a minute i bet. But i'm extra proud of myself cos my new support worker richard said that it didnt show on my face how much i was panicking, i successfully managed to keep that anxiety attack under control and finish yhe conversation with grace! And he also said its no trouble when i ask him for help and stuff cos its not just his job but a job he loves, and he was happy to spend the day this way, knowing he helped someone like me through someyhinh so important. HE'S THE FUCKIN NICEST MAN EVER

also incidentally i also learned he's a SURPRISE GRANDPA?? Like not really, i mean he's more in the older adult range, but he just dropped it casually in conversation that he's 50 and i thought he was like 28?? I mean i have prosopagnosia so i suck at recognising facial expressions but i think even normal peopke would agree he looks hella young! Thats awesome he's even more smart and experienced than i thought!! No wonder he's been so amazing at his job! And he's extra awesome for how he's a dj if he didnt grow up as surrounded by computers and stuff, yknow?

ALSO A RELATED FACT:HE JUST CASUALLY DROPPED THAT HE'S A DJ

He has a fuckin 'sound room' in his house with 'a million microphones' and he brought it up cos i was sayibg about how i wanted to learn video editing and stuff and he said he can give me a free microphone from one of his spares! Damn i need to find a way to pay him back cps he won't take actual money for it, aaaa!! And also hehelped me remember the name of that one animation software i wanted to get someday, and he offered to teach me all his Super Secrets Of Getting Free Samples And Cheatibg The Time Limit. Like man u literally work for the government are u sure u should be sayin this? XD and i didnt actually say it was lets plays but i said i wanted to practise recording my voice to show my friends in other countries and help get less anxious. And then he started talking about podcasts so man for all i know maybe he watches lets plays too! He's gonba reccommend me some educational podcasts about science abd mental health and stuff :D

So yeah it all went way better than expected and i even got an odd chance to get to know my therapist on a more personal level and get some nice help with my hobbies! Also he's the only other person i've ever met who uses Paint Shop Pro 7! A friggin 1999 art software that i still keep cos im too dumb to learn a new one aaaaa. He validated me by agreeing that its very conveinient and comparatively newbie friendly, yes! But its having incompatibility issues since windows 10 came out so aaa i know eventualky i need to learn a new thing lol

Man my sypport worker is so damn awesome and its so rare i acconplish a good thing and have a good day and dont lose to my anxiety! I jus lt wish i wasnt still experiencing the horrible side effects of that anxiety lol. Typing this up helped distract me for long enough for my vision to clear up a bit but now my headache is extreme! I hate that pills take like an hour to kick in.

Man maybe i should order a takeaway pizza or somethin?? To celebrate not fuckin up at a chance to improve my mental health! And also cos its hard to cook things when you have no functioning eyeballs!

#bunn brain #im gonna use that as my tag for negative talk about by anxieties and day to day life stuff frkm now on

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raeyvies · 7 years

Text

What if MC didn’t take care of herself while V was hospitalized ? (based on day 10) pt. 3

Actually wrote this a lot faster than I thought. Then again I already had half written by the time I posted pt.2. This part is a little slower, but it’s centered around Jihyun. Oh and MC’s blood results came back! Remember, MC here is MC Jeon because I gave her a last name.

Thank you so much again to those who gave me such positive comments! I hope you enjoy this part and well stick around for the next part because more is gonna start happening :D!

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt.4 // Pt.5 // Pt. 6

Length: 2022 words

Part: 3/?

Pairing: VxMC

Warnings: none

Sorry for any grammatical mistakes ^^;;

Jihyun’s night turned out to be so much longer than he would have liked it to be. Since Jumin left, the room was just a cloud of silence and it was suffocating in the least. It bothered him that he woke up so close to the end of visiting hours. It was around 10:30 pm that he woke up and MC fell unconscious. He wanted to scream everything on his mind. Having no one to distract him, no one to talk to him, he was left to his thoughts. And anyone who knew what it was like to be alone to your thoughts in the dead of night was torture.

Jumin’s disappointed yet concerned words resonated in his ears and because of them, Jihyun was now looking back on his life. Had he always been this way? Why had he not seen how selfish he bad become? Even when he said he gave his all to Rika, he was really taking everything from her. How could anyone handle him? How could MC do this to herself someone like him?

Everything that seemed to make sense in his life no longer did.

Was it because he was now starting to change? Was it because he finally had an outside lens into his life? All these questions swam around in his sea of thoughts and refused to let him be at peace. At least for one night so he could recuperate would be enough. If Jihyun could recover, he could take care of MC. But negativity ate at him for what felt like an eternity, especially since the only clock in the room was across the room where he could not see.

If he was being truthful with himself, Jihyun was even avoiding looking at MC. Seeing her in such a state only made him feel so worthless and like a burden. He had promised her since the beginning that he would protect her. Save her. But it had been the opposite all this time and all he ever repaid her with was anxiety. He even began to admit to himself that it was his stubbornness and he needed to change that about himself as soon as he could if he wanted everything else in his life to change.

Stirring in bed only made his wound that much more painful so he could not even fidget that night. Constantly rubbing his eyes, he hoped that some drops of sleep and tiredness would rain on him. But it did not come until much later around midnight. It was at that time that another nurse came in to check on MC that exhaustion finally kicked in, sending him off to another world where he could escape such pessimistic thoughts. And he did not wake up until six in the morning when light shown through the window, courtesy of the early morning sun

The pain in his abdomen had subsided quite a bit, much to Jihyun’s relief. But now he was absolutely hungry, his stomach growling for food. It took him a while to completely wake up as he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, his eyelids fluttering and fighting to remain open. It was not until he noticed that now there were two nurses checking up on MC, as opposed to the previous single nurse. They were injecting medicine directly into her veins and from what little Jihyun could perceive, he managed to hear them say that the blood work came in.

Jihyun grunted as he shifted into a sitting position on his bed and asked the nurses with a raspy voice, “I hear you two saying something about her blood tests. May I know what results came back in?”

The new nurse was not sure of he was allowed to know but the other was there when Jumin gave his permission to discuss MC’s test results with his friend. The nurse came to his bedside and showed him the document with all the information he needed to know. He squinted and rubbed his eyes hoping to focus on the letters but he was either too exhausted yet or his vision was worsening. It was most probable that it was the latter.

The nurse explained to him about the findings in her blood and said, “According to Miss Jeon’s tests, she's been developing anemia for a while now. Of course, it's nothing alarming or to worry about so much because it's easily treatable. That's why she was so cold last night.”

“I see… So, even with that condition, she'll be fine?”

“She should be. We're just giving her iron supplements and vitamin B now that we know. She has a low red blood cell count so that may contribute to still being asleep. With anemia, it means she'll be easily fatigued and lightheaded, but we'll discuss more about this when her guardian arrives,” the nurse informed Jihyun and then placed the documents elsewhere before returning to his side. “I'm also going to need to check your wound for the moment.”

Still trying to become fully aware of everything, he awkwardly lowered his blankets and lifted his shirt for the nurse to see. With a nod he gave, the nurse began to examine his wound. She also checked around the area for any tenderness, to which gave Jihyun discomfort, drawing a pained moan from his mouth. Once done with the examination, he pulled down his shirt and was informed that he was healing just fine and that he could walk now; finally being allowed the walk elated him so much but he knew he could not simply walk expecting to have the same strength in his lower body. After all, he had been confined to a bed for over twenty six hours.

Before the nurse could leave, Jihyun’s stomach growled again and it reminded him to ask for breakfast if was allowed to eat yet. Fortunate enough, the nurse told him that someone would bring him food soon. However, he was defeated by drowsiness and did not get to eat breakfast until much later around noon. Might as well be lunch then.

Admittedly, it was hard to push down the food they gave him because of its undesirable bland taste. If anything it felt like he was eating plastic. But Jihyun knew he needed something in his body to start functioning well again. Finishing up what little breakfast they served him, he drank up some grape juice and set the tray aside at the end of his bed. Considering that he was fully awake now, he removed his blankets, slowly and carefully, and his feet found their way to the floor. Shivers traveled up his body as he felt the floor was almost like ice. Jihyun grabbed hold of his IV, using it as his support as he walked over to MC. It was a painfully slow process and he thought his legs would give in very soon.

Sitting on her bedside, Jihyun laid his hand on hers and compared to last night, her hands were much warmer, to his relief. It seemed that the medication and supplements were helping her out, seeing as her skin was not as pale anymore. Listening to her steady breathing was soothing as well. Jihyun could not help but feel more than just worry and a desire to protect her. Part of him was developing affection for her, but he was hesitant to let it come over him. Simply knowing the last time he cared for anyone deeply and affectionately turned into a psychological mess, he wanted to keep some distance with MC. After all, Jihyun only caused her to worry more. He only repaid her with more concern.

Giving her hand a light squeeze, Jihyun whispered to the unconscious girl, “Don't worry about me for now. Focus on gaining strength okay? I'm alright now, so be selfish and recover. I'm not sure if you can hear me, MC, but I'm going out to walk for a bit. I want to regain my strength as soon as I can. Don't do anything dumb while I'm away, got it?”

Jihyun left the room for a while as he went out to walk in the halls of the hospital. To distract himself of the pain, he kept counting the things he saw and examined the paintings hung around the halls as decoration. Truthfully, he was also attempting to ward away his selfish and negative thoughts that made him take the blame for everything. Jumin was right and he had to change. But it was something he had always done, he forgot what it was like to be selfish. Maybe MC could teach him what it would be like.

No not yet. I can't ruin her not like everyone else.

He greeted many other patients walking around in hospital gowns identical to his, making small talk for the time to pass. He made a few laps around the same corridors before feeling exhausted. It was actually harder for him to breathe because the mere expanding and contracting of his abdomen as he did so caused him discomfort. Soon enough, he thought he could return to his room and find something to do. As he was approaching the hallway leading to his room, he heard his name being called out multiple times. Each time it sounded more broken and desperate, so he followed the voice.

It was MC who had just left her room. Her body was still slumped, meaning she was still tired, and her eyes looked around helplessly. She looked lost.

“Jihyun?” MC kept calling out though her head was still spinning. When she woke up, she did not give herself time to adjust. The moment she saw Jihyun’s bed empty, she sprang from her bed and outside the room. Just like someone who had been laid down for a long time and suddenly got dizzy upon standing, MC found herself clinging to her IV pole. She still could not focus her vision on anything so all she could see were blurry blobs of people striding along around her. And not one blob had mint colored hair. As though she were on autopilot, she was not even thinking. It was merely an instinct that she felt; that Jihyun was in danger again. “Jihyun!”

Every pained cry only widened the gash in Jihyun’s heart, and he tried his best to rush to MC. He wished he could yell out her name but that would only physically hurt him more. After turning at one more corner, he found MC appearing like a lost puppy right in front of their room. Before she could yell his name out again, he wrapped her in his embrace, coaxing her into calmness.

“I’m here. I'm okay,” Jihyun sighed and walked her back into the room, guiding her to lay down once again. “Why would you do that, MC? I know you're scared, but think of yourself first okay?”

MC was still so exhausted, and drowsy. Her appearance was still disheveled and her hair was a mess. Dark circles had formed around her eyes and Jihyun was convinced that those were not there before the incident. Her lips were so chapped that they looked white, clearly a sign that she refused to drink water yesterday. Nothing much was said by the feeble girl as she laid down once again, except a few phrase, “Lay down with...me. I need… know… you're here. Okay.”

Her grip was fragile on Jihyun’s shirt and he conceded. Despite wanting to keep distance, it was not an easy feat knowing that he had to somehow repay his debt to her. Careful and aware of the MC’s IV, he laid down in her bed next to her after grabbing his phone that was on the couch. She was quickly drifting back into an unconscious state once again, but just before leaving, she took hold of Jihyun’s hand. Their intertwined hands were laid on his chest right before she drifted off into another world again.

But she could still feel his heartbeat in her hand, and that was enough to let her fall deeper into darkness.

To be continued...

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt.4 // Pt.5 // Pt. 6

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme scenario #mysme fanfic #mysme v #mystic messenger scenario #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger v #VxMC #mystic messenger angst

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anyway-i-love-vanderwood · 7 years

Text

A MC that doesn't know how to handle feelings, let alone feelings of love

✿ Thank you @clearruby, who requested this via my Ko-Fi! (sorry it took a few days i’ve been swamped at work orz).

I’m splitting this in two because of the length. Here’s the main RFA portion! Minor Trio will arrive soon.

Yoosung

You don’t get it.

Like, just saying that doesn’t really convey your complete bafflement regarding Yoosung’s behavior. He frets about your safety constantly, he is frequently expressing affection to you, and he… seems to care… what you think about him?

What the heck?

Why?

And why you?

You’re not really, uh, a particularly personable person. In fact, it was your heretofore emotionally isolated existence that had left you perfectly happy to take this weird job where you stay in an apartment alone for over a week. It wasn’t like you had friends, anyway. It wasn’t like you talked to people.

It wasn’t like you were great at this human connection thing that everyone was going on about, so why the heck was Yoosung… interested in you?

And – what the heck is this… weird warmth in your stomach whenever he checks on you at three a.m., asking about what you’re doing and how your day has been?

It gets weirder when you start finding yourself trying to… protect him? Whenever Seven starts teasing him and tricking him into thinking he’s dying, you calmly and coldly tell Yoosung that no, that’s not the case. You soothe his worries with cold, analytical logic, and while Seven calling you a robot doesn’t bother you at all…

Something about the way Yoosung defends you and calls you great… does?

But not a bad kind of bothering, it’s like…

It’s like…

Something nagging at you that you can’t stop thinking about, like wondering if you’ve left the stove on back home, but with your heart instead of your mind.

It gets frustrating, how often you think about him. How you wonder how he’s doing at school, and think about whether he got that grade he wanted on a test or not. It’s doubly frustrating when he plays LOLOL instead of getting his work done, because for some reason, it – matters to you that he succeeds?

It’s weird. It’s stupid. Why would it affect you? But it just feels all bubbly, and weird, and –

And –

You start thinking about his face –

…Why?

Late one night, you complain to Zen about this, and he pauses for a moment before saying…

“I… think you’d call that love.”

You say no. No. That’s not. It can’t. You don’t fall in love, that’s just not you, and Zen starts laughing uproariously and tells you to test it, why don’t you? When you meet him in person, try holding his hand. If your ‘weird feeling’ gets worse, then you’ll know for certain that it’s love!

Eager to prove Zen wrong, you agree. You’ll show him. You’ll show them all! …Which is also kind of strange, come to think about it, why do you care about proving him wrong? – But you have enough questions to think about for now, so you set that aside.

It’s at the party when you do it, standing in front of the setting sun with Yoosung at your side. He’s said a lot of things that made you feel that Strange Thing – that weird flutter, the feeling like your stomach is dropping into your shoes – but you can’t isolate or examine any of them until you complete Zen’s trial.

You’re alone right now – you’d told Yoosung you’d wanted to get some air, which he’d rushed to accommodate. He said it made sense, y’know, with… how you are about people, and why did it matter to you whenever he was friendly and considerate? It was dumb, this was dumb, and spurred on by some emotion you couldn’t name, you looked away from him and grabbed onto his hand.

Yoosung sputters.

Yoosung turns into a tomato.

Yoosung practically d i e s next to you, which you don’t witness, because you felt your heart stop.

It was just… nice, this feeling of his warmth under your own, and knowing that it was Yoosung’s hand you were holding – kind, gentle, wonderful Yoosung – made it all the better.

Well. Sort of better. It also made you so dizzy that you felt like you wanted to faint, and Yoosung maybe had to catch you with his other hand when you stumbled, which brought you into a position of further physical proximity which made you both emotionally collapse even more, and then resulted in you both panicking and shoving yourselves away from each other, but.

Well.

It was exciting?

(from then on, zen – who was watching from the window because DUH HOW COULD HE NOT – resolves to get you two married asap.)

Zen

Zen is stupid and dumb and idiotic and moronic and frustrating and you don’t know WHY he’s frustrating and you don’t know how to deal with him being FRUSTRATING because you’ve always been able to RUN AWAY BUT YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU’RE STUCK IN THIS FREAKIN’ APARTMENT.

When you’d gotten this ‘job’, you thought it would be great. Minimal social interaction, free food, and an excuse to make yourself a complete recluse. People thought you were a weird robot devoid of the ability to make emotional connections, so why wouldn’t you want a job where you could escape them all?

(ok, trying to get people to come to the party was a little… but tbqh it was fairly easy with some basic googling and some research.)

Anyway, that was all ruined by STUPID, WEIRD ZEN, WHO KEEPS SHOWING YOU ATTRACTIVE PICTURES AND FLIRTING?? IS THIS FLIRTING??? WITH YOU and MAKING YOU FEEL WEIRD.

People asked for a selfie, so you took one, and he spent literally thirty minutes gushing over it.

Is this a joke?

Is he playing a trick on you?

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HUMOR, you can’t tell if your leg is being pulled, here!

You spend multiple evenings on your bed, flopped on the covers and sulking over this development.

You just… can’t deal with this?

and why does it make you feel so funny when he gushes over you?

Why does it make you feel so funny, being told that he’s spending a lot more time in the chat ever since you came around…?

UGH. WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE SO HANDSOME? This isn’t your opinion – it’s objective fact!

(cue more annoyed rolling.)

Zen is… amused by all of this, and he takes the opportunity to tease you more. Like, obviously he wants to start dating you asap – this boy is desperate – but he’s also loving watching you go through this period of emotional turmoil. You’ve told the chat a little about yourself; you don’t do Feelings, and it’s making him pleased as punch that he’s becoming an exception.

…He’s surprisingly gentle with you when he meets you in person.

Oh, he keeps courting you, obviously. Flowers, chocolates, dates. But he’s patient and kind and lets you figure things out at your own pace. He’s enjoying this slow, prolonged descent into you accepting your feelings, and he really enjoys the process of seeing you work through it.

Ok, so sometimes it means he gets punched in the shoulder because you don’t have any other way to process the turmoil of flirting, but it’s always just a smack, and he’s tough anyway.

Zen’s loyal. He’ll wait as long as it takes for you to accept that the ‘weird sickness’ you get whenever he’s around is love.

[Jaehee, Jumin and Seven are under the read-more!]

Jaehee

Ohhboy.

Welcome to Friendship Simulator 5,000, where neither of you can really process that your relationship is... uh… not entirely platonic.

Jaehee’s route is already about her processing the feeling of becoming ‘friends’ with someone, so your descent into emotional closeness is actually a pretty gentle one with her. Yeah, it’s weird that you suddenly find yourself supporting someone so much and being supported in return… but Jaehee makes for a welcoming, accepting partner to discuss these things with.

She’s so reliable that you feel like you can tell her your fears. You say that you’re terrified she’ll leave and then you’ll be left floundering, with no idea what to do or how to deal with your feelings. You say that you’re scared of intimacy, that you have trust issues, because… duh, she has them too.

You don’t really know what to make of the u t t e r f u r y that encompasses you when you hear how Jaehee’s foster family treated her. In fact, it leaves you with a busted hand and a hole in the plaster of Rika’s apartment that you aren’t sure how to explain. It’s – weird! You’ve never gotten this mad for someone before!

But Jaehee is kind, and – and she doesn’t deserve that!

You struggle. You talk to Jaehee. You have a calm conversation that’s conducive to opening up your feelings.

Like the flowers in spring, something starts to bloom in your heart.

You don’t realize what it is until almost a year later, when you and Jaehee are opening the café one day… and even then, you don’t realize the full depth of what it is you’re experiencing.

You just know in that moment, watching the morning sun pool on her shoulders and ghost across her hair, that you want Jaehee to be in your life. Forever.

…It’s a feeling that’s desperate and wanting and hurting, but it’s also warm and supportive. You’ve never felt anything like it before, but you also know that you wouldn’t change a single aspect of it for the world.

Jumin

oh christ.

Neither of you understand an appropriate and proper way to moderate Feelings, and the both of you find different ways to be BAD at it.

Jumin gets, uh. Y’know. Possessive, doesn’t want to let you out of his sight for fear you’ll be hit by a car, etc. You get tetchy because intellectually, you understand this Isn’t Okay, but the emotionally compromised, affection starved inner part of you is like, woah, he cares so much! Frustrated with these feelings and also your inability to properly negotiate boundaries with him, you often close yourself off and sulk.

Jumin doesn’t want to make you sad, so he sulks, and by the end of it Jaehee is dealing with two miserable adult-children which she isn’t prepared at all to handle because HOO BOY GUESS WHO ELSE HAS EMOTIONAL ISSUES??

all y’all need therapy i s2g

anyway you’re falling for jumin, and also have no idea how to describe or properly articulate your feelings regarding jumin. you get annoyed when women fawn over him but are confused about why, because why should it matter to you? what will it affect? what stake do you have in this?

The closest you come to mentally resolving this internal conflict is deciding that, well, you LOVE Elizabeth the III, like - love. like, you’d die for this stupid cat, and Jumin dating someone would probably limit your access to her, so you’re jealous of these women not because they’re around Jumin, but because they’re limiting your Elizabeth time.

In the end, it’s JUMIN who accepts his love of you first, and who tries to express to you that he’d like to be a couple. You tell him that you’re very flattered but obviously, this warm, fuzzy, gooey feeling in your chest is only a response to his cat, so you can’t date him.

(i want to emphasize how many times zen has bashed his head against the wall in the background by this point.)

Anyway, Jumin is crushed by this idiotic rejection, and since he’s not used to this whole… loving and then not having thing, he goes into a downward mope-spiral. This makes you feel guilty and sad, which are both things you’re bad at dealing with, but you also realize that you kind of want to hug him and make him feel better?

like… that’s weird.

This drama is too much for Zen, so even though he hates Jumin the cat freak, he decides to help a bro out by sitting you down and forcing you to confront yourself. It takes like five straight hours of bickering with you to prove that, yes, you do like jumin - seriously, he needs a powerpoint and documented evidence - but afterwards, you’re like…

oh.

You’re also scared because, OH SHIT, you just- rejected him! he probably hates you now! you can never show your face again… no, not just that, you need to run away to another country! another continent! another planet!

N o, zen says, and he grabs your arm, drags you to a flowershop to buy an ‘I’m-Sorry-I’m-an-Idiot-Bouquet’, and then brings you to Jumin’s apartment to talk.

JUST TALK, YOU MORONS.

AND BE HONEST…!

after what is, quite possibly, the worst confession in the world, Jumin hugs you, and the two of you can be emotionally repressed, touch-starved idiots Together.

707 (Saeyoung)

somewhere, the combined forces of cupid and Aphrodite create a new ocean from their tears, because gdi you are a matchmaker’s worst nightmare.

You don’t get Seven’s jokes. They’re weird. He’s weird. You don’t understand why he says this stuff.

You also don’t understand why he talks to you, why he seems fascinated by you, and why he laughs with such force after hearing your deadpan responses over the phone. It’s bizarre! It’s peculiar!

You know you’re a robot, and he knows you’re a robot, so... why does he keep pestering you?

You can only think that he’s some kind of weird sadist, and you continue on as normal (while sighing and rubbing your head each time you’re the punchline of his bizarre humor.)

Seven doesn’t get why you’re so hilarious, but holy crap, you really are the greatest straight man in the world, aren’t you?

You’re like Jumin but better, because your sincere naivety isn’t tainted by you being ruthless, capitalist, bourgeoisie scum. You’re odd, you’re different, you don’t understand basic things (like the human emotions you’re so used to repressing) and he’s fascinated every time he talks to you!

He can never predict you! He can never anticipate what you’ll say! Interacting with you isn’t like the mundane, routine call-and-response shticks he has with the rest of the RFA...

Talking to you makes him feel like he’s flying on the clouds!

--But only because you’re entertaining, right?

He’s definitely not pestering you because he’s head-over-heels in love. That’d be ridiculous! Preposterous! Unthinkable.

...This is how things go, until you’re put in danger from the bomb.

You take things cooly. What, you’re supposed to be scared? Hah! The last time you felt fear was when you were eight and just learning that no one would come and help you fight the monsters in the closet. You’d truly understood then that, if you wanted things done, you’d have to do them yourself, and feeling fear wasn’t part of the equation.

...Feeling anything wasn’t part of the equation, really...

Seven takes things less cooly. he is, in fact, flipping out, because holy shit you’re in danger holy shit it’s his fault holy shit he’s so worried about you and -

...Why is he so worried, precisely?

(You ask him this question repeatedly. He’s only known you for a few days. The lengths to which he’s going to ruin his life for your sake are ridiculous, aren’t they?)

But for some reason, it’s precisely because you think they’re ridiculous that he wants to try so hard to help you.

You don’t get it. He doesn’t get it. You kind of fight about it but he won’t stop. and neither will you stop worrying about him because for some reason...

You want to save him, too.

Everyone else realizes it’s love long before you two do, and the both of you manage to navigate the Mint Eye situation without ever once beginning to acknowledge how you feel about each other.

There are plenty of strange declarations of emotion. When Seven is letting his brother take his repressed rage out on him, you step in and force them to talk. When Saeran is struggling, you try to watch over him, because it’s stressing Seven out, and you want Seven to be happy.

You stay up late, listening to Seven’s worries, and tell him he’s a dipshit in the morning when he tries to brush them aside. Occasionally, you do the same in return, though you’re less likely to back away from having expressed emotion. You’re just...

Confused. And lost. And don’t know how to deal with being strangely concerned about him. You make a million excuses, which Zen and Yoosung shoot down a million times because they just want to see you happy with someone, okay?

And you love Seven so much! And he loves you so much!

It’s dumb!

They do everything in their power to set you up on dates, which ends up with you and him bumbling past your feelings like two navigationally challenged ships passing in the night. It’s impressive, really. Even Vanderwood is annoyed by watching you two. The only thing that Zen can think to do...

Is try to make Seven jealous by flirting with you.

This is a bad plan. This is a stupid plan. But Zen is also kind of a stupid man, so he undergoes it with gusto, trying to ‘woo’ you while attempting to inspire some feelings of jealousy in Seven.

and it. works? sort of?

Like, you don’t understand you’re being flirted with, but you do get kind of flustered once which makes Seven feel w e i r d.

and obviously, since Seven loves running from anything even approaching genuine emotion, shuts down and avoids to problem.

He stops talking to you.

This pisses you off for reasons you don’t quite understand, and with only a very poorly thought out plan in mind, you march to his apartment and BANG ON THE DOOR UNTIL SOMEONE LETS YOU IN BECAUSE THIS IS ENOUGH.

YOU ARE DONE.

YOU FINALLY JUST GET SO ANGRY AT SEVEN ACTING DUMB AND NOT LETTING YOU CARE FOR HIM THAT YOU ADMIT BOTH TO YOURSELF AND TO HIM THAT YOU DO.

THAT YOU ARE HIS FRIEND.

THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE HIM HURT.

that you... like him.

“...so please... stop ignoring me, okay?”

(saeran lets you in, grabs his brother by the scruff of his neck, and forces you to talk.)

That talk doesn’t really get you into the date-zone yet, much to everyone’s chagrin, but it puts you far closer to the vicinity of romance than either of you have been willing to trudge into up to this point. There’s practically a second RFA party held in honor to commemorate you holding hands with him, and five years later, when you’re finally married, Zen openly bursts into tears as he watches you go down the aisle.

FINALLY.

FINALLY, IT WORKS OUT.

#mysme #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme reactions #mystic messenger reactions #mysme imagines #mystic messenger imagines #long post #mystic messenger spoilers #mysme spoilers #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #zen #jumin han #707 #luciel choi

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