An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This time my excuse (for it not being the final chapter) is that I got carpal tunnel or something and my arm really fuckin hurts so this is all you get for now LMAO. But I really wanted to get this out.
-_-_-
Four creatures perch precariously on a narrow pathway, in the dark. The first crouches, examining the next step. The second hunches over him. The third waits quietly - calm and cunning. And the fourth - the fourth and final figure in the paltry parade - shudders and awakens in the shadows.
It was the dark that did it. The lights went dim and Gi-hun could almost feel his pupils dilating within his head - a sort of widening, an opening. A swelling of sense, of perception. And with it, instinct.
Daytime and fluorescence are the domain of civilization; humans are their most primal after dusk.
And now, as the lights dim, the animal within Gi-hun once more lifts its shaggy head. A warm, sensitive, snuffling muzzle lifts to the wind. Long, slender legs brace themselves; heels and toes grip the glossy surface beneath him. Heat shivers up his spine. Sparks seem to pop between his fingertips.
No longer a distant stranger, and not as strong of a shock this time, Gi-hun greets his inner Omega with frantic relief. Oh, thank fuck, it’s back, he almost weeps aloud, thank you - thank you, I needed you -
And that star-blast of energy gushes through him like the floodgates opened.
Gi-hun gives a violent, visceral gasp as tingling gooseflesh sweeps his skin in waves. The hairs on his arms and neck stand on end. The muscles of his abdomen clamp down as if to grab it. The energy.
He needs that. That energy, that instinct, that simplicity. The prowling, catlike focus.
He won’t survive without it.
This is not a place where a person can survive. Here, only animals remain.
This is a scrapped Halloween AU that I haven’t thought much about.
SONGS TO LISTEN TO WHILE READING!!
Christmas Kids by Roar ( I know this is a Halloween thing but still )
Happy Together by The Turtles
Riptide by Vance Joy
Brazil by Declan McKenna
Oblivion by Grimes
Wasted Summers by Juju<3
What Once Was by Her’s
Money by The Drums
Orpheus Under The Influence by The Butterstones
Song About Me by TV Girl
Bodys by Car Seat Headrest
Michelle by Sir Chloe
New Flesh by Current Joys
Alien Blues by Vundabar
Romantic Homicide by D4VD
✧︎
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[ Eve of the Moons ]
Prologue :
Lover’s Suicide
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✧︎
He should have stopped when he could.
There was no real reason why this had to happen, there wasn’t a real reason why Sousuke had to do it.
But now his best friend and himself are dead.
And I mean dead as in laying in piles of Red Spider Lilies, holding each other’s pinkies as if they couldn’t clasp their hands together before life completely left them.
It was frigid and bitter. Sousuke didn’t know if that was their bodies draining the blood from their veins because the flowers were implaling every one of their limbs, or the tenebrous pit they fell into.
The flowers felt warm. The crimson liquid seeping from their arms, legs and chest soaked into the dirty ground beneath, Red Spider Lilies’ vines were absorbing it all.
Isn’t this an interesting way to pass? Isn’t this an interesting place to die?
It was pretty ugly too.
Sousuke thought so.
Maybe his best friend thought so too.
He gripped the familiar’s pinkie finger harder, wanting to be comforted by a hand engulfing his. Making the first move, like the person always did.
But that wasn’t the case here.
Was the person already dead? They couldn’t be, they fell at the same time, and he was still conscious!
This wasn’t fair.
He could barely remember how it came to this.
This wasn’t fair. Not at all.
Sousuke wanted to live some more. To be alive means to live life to the fullest. No matter what.
That’s what his mom told him..
He wanted to grow older and older and older with the people he cared for, and that only consisted of his mother, his 15 year old brother, and his best friend he met in 5th grade.
He’s known the person for three years. And his mom and brother forever.
Forever, right?
He thinks so.
Sousuke’s not so sure who the person beside him was though.
The person’s skin was starting to rot, it grew old and shabby, and crusty and dry. Veiny, skinny, pale.
His best friend wasn’t old. Or shabby, or crusty and dry and veiny and skinny and pale.
Was this even… The person he met while in 5th grade after school detention for too many tardy slips ? ( I know there is no detention in Japanese schools but this is crucial to the story )
He’s 13 now…
Maybe he forgot.
Maybe he forgot how the person looked.
Maybe he jumped into a pit with another person. A person he didn’t know or care for, that was going to jump in without him.
The person was on the edge, so ready to give their life away. Then he came in, hugged them tight as the ground cracked at their feet.
That’s how he ended up here.
He thought his best friend was suicidal and promising the person what he would have promised to one of his favorite persons in the whole world.
Sousuke forgot what he promised.
That’s ok.
It wasn’t, but who would care now?
He’s dying. So close because of the way his eyelids fought him to close shut.
He could barely breathe anymore. His soul got weak when blood slowly continued to pour.
He felt weak. And sick.
If there was anyone, anyone in the world he’d want to be in this predicament with is his mother, big brother and/or best friend. The person and his blood mixed into each other’s. He wished it was his favorite peoples’ blood, instead of a stranger.
Sousuke wondered. If this wasn’t his best friend beside him, then where was his best friend?
He was probably living. Life was still full and sunny for him. Full of seasons and school and getting old.
His best friend was always like that, anyways. Full of life. That’s what they were.
Not him. Not Mitsuba.
Mitsuba was as bitter as his best friend’s brother.
Sad and depressed, sullen, bland, a struggle. A burden.
Mistuba wasn’t meant to be friends with that person he met three years ago. He knows it. It wasn’t fate. His best friend had faith in their relationship, that’s how they kept interacting.
The interactions got less awkward. They did everything together as they got through school and met new people along with his best friend’s brother.
His best friend’s brother wasn’t a fan of him. He knows that the brother secretly hated him. For what reason? He didn’t know.
He knows that the brother hated him because he’d always give him a bland look, they’d avoid him, make his best friend avoid him, try to minimize his best friend’s and his hangouts, ecsatra.
He was still cool with him, he just figured the brother was some jealous and insecure guy, since his best friend said the brother didn’t have many friends. Didn’t want any either.
His best friend was his best friend for a reason.
They always said Sousuke was just as optimistic and sunny as them, even more than them.
Just as carefree, confident, euphoric, helpful, and could treat beings with their kindness if he tried.
He believed them. He believed every word his best friend said and would say whenever they both had long calls at night, or when he would cry his heart out at them, accusing them of caring too much while they continued to do so.
To them, Mistuba and Sousuke were completely different people.
They said Mitsuba was his father’s last name.
Sousuke was the name their mother gave him. Just as she gave him life. Even if it meant messing with a petty thing like his father.
Mitsuba was full of grudges. Sousuke was full of life.
Mitsuba Sousuke regrets believing.
Because now he was only Mitsuba.
He left his destiny just like his father left his responsibilities of being a father.
Or maybe this was destined.
Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe Mistuba was meant to meet the weird, obnoxious kid in detention. Maybe they were supposed to forge a bond and spend the rest of their three years of living together. Mistuba was supposed to turn into Sousuke.
Then he relapsed.
And maybe he was supposed to love his best friend too much. Care too much. Do anything for them.
That’s how he ended up here.
God didn’t make mistakes.
This wasn’t a mistake.
He was supposed to be foolish and risk a precious thing such as life all in the name of saving a stranger who he thought was his friend.
Mitsuba fell into the pit. And took Sousuke with him.
He felt bad.
Now his best friend wouldn’t be able to see neither Mitsuba nor Sousuke.
His best friend said they loved both sides.
Now they were only going to mourn.
So were his two other favorite people.
Mitsuba felt like the same flowers that he laid in were shoved down, clogging his throat.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Not all that I write is easy, happy and fluffy. Sometimes I write things that make my beta mad at me...well, this chapter starts that journey in this fic. Angsty and heartbreaking - that I promise will 100% be resolved later for a lovely HEA - this chapter dives head first into the hurt portion of the hurt/comfort tag.
It’s important to go through it, so you can have the comfort to write out later...but ngl, this was not fun to write. I hope you will all stick with me!
Excerpt:
“Biggs, this is my friend from high school, Din. Din, Biggs is in my Astronomy class.”
“Hey,” Din said, holding his hand out to Biggs. They shook, eyeing each other warily as Luke walked up to them. “Look, I gotta go. I'll, ah, see you later, Luke?”
“Wait, we still need to...talk about my sister’s party, right?” Luke said, grasping at the first thing he could think of.
Part 3: The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire
Here comes the angsty part...
Pairing: Dean x Toby Matheson (female OC)
Word Count: 1789
Warnings: Nothing but pining and angst
Final part coming next week!
God, what a mess.
The whole place reeked of death, used-up bodies of prior kills tossed like so many empty bottles against the wall, left to rot. The need to survive the battle tended to outweigh the urge to gag, since the three of them had their hands full. It was a nasty bunch, nastier than most, all big, ugly and reckless.
Toby let out a scream of frustration as she kicked at the bastard she was currently fighting and buried her machete in his cranium. She yanked it free, then swung again, taking his head off and glaring in the direction of the corpse. “How many more of you can there possibly be?” She scanned the room, spotting Sam and Dean in their own scuffles, then whirled to face a raging female behind her.
When the noise and chaos finally quieted, she moved to the middle of the room, panting for air as she stepped over pieces and parts of bodies. “Did we get them all? Finally?”
Dean swiped a forearm over his face, wiping away sweat and blood as he nodded. “I think so. I fucking hope so. Shit, Sam, I thought there were only five or six?”
“Yeah, well – they must have been having a party. Or they recruited,” he responded breathlessly. “I don’t know. I’ll go see if we have some gas in the trunk. This whole place needs to go up in flames.”
Dean nodded, and Sam headed for the front door of the barn. “Stinks so bad in here. Toby, are you good?”
She blew out a breath. “Yeah. You?” She glanced up to see his answering nod, and her eyes widened. “Dean, DOWN!” she screamed, and he dropped, rolling to the side and then leaping to his feet, the majority of a vamp’s severed head landing with a sickening squelch nearby.
“Holy fuck. Thanks.” He watched as she let her machete drop from her shaking hand, her eyes on the hatchet still in the clutches of the dead vampire. She looked up at Dean, her face almost white, and then turned to rush out the back door. “Shit. Toby...”
He followed her outside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, searching. He rounded the corner of the building to find her, arms and forehead braced against the barn wall. “Toby, it’s okay. It’s over. We’re okay.”
Her voice was muffled, panic still coming through loud and clear. “That was too close, Dean. I almost missed it. If I wouldn’t have looked up right then, he would’ve buried that axe…”
He stepped up closer, taking her shoulder and turning her to face him. “Hey. You just saved my ass in there. Stop beating yourself up. We should have checked the building again, that’s on all of us.”
She looked up at him, clearly shaken. “I just almost watched you die! That’s not okay, Dean, I’m not okay!” She suddenly stepped forward, shoving at his shoulders, knocking him back a step as he stared back in surprise. “You cannot fucking die in front of me, you fucker!” she almost sobbed, drawing her fist back to swing at him, but this time he was prepared, grabbing her wrist and shoving her back against the building.
“Toby, stop!” he shouted, staring into her eyes for a few endless seconds before crashing his lips into hers, emotion and desire winning over his resistance. She whimpered and struggled against him, trying to yank her wrist free until he finally let go, and her arms clamped around his neck, pulling him closer. He stopped for one moment, looking down at her before swearing softly and kissing her again, his body crushing hers between him and the rough wood siding of the barn.
Sam’s voice calling their names brought things to an abrupt halt, and Dean stepped back, dragging his thumb roughly over his lips. “Yeah, we’re out here!” He looked at the ground as he spoke to her, his voice subdued. “If you want to wait in the car, I’ll help Sam get the fire going. Then we can get the hell out of here.”
Toby pulled herself away from the barn, giving him one last glance as she turned and walked towards the Impala. She climbed into the back seat and wrapped her arms around herself as a few of the tears she was valiantly fighting spilled over. She swiped a hand over her face and laid her head back against the seat, eyes closed and teeth clenched. By the time Sam and Dean came to the car, she had forced an emotionless mask in place and sat staring out the window. She responded to Sam’s query with an “I’m fine,” pointedly avoiding meeting Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror.
It was almost morning when they pulled into the bunker garage. Dean opened his door, then paused before getting out. “I say we deserve a break. Let’s get cleaned up, get some rest and head to KC for the weekend. Whatcha think?” After the non-enthusiastic mumbled replies, he piped up again. “Okay, fine. We’re doin’ it. We all need some fun around here. We leave this afternoon, let’s say 4-4:30. No arguments.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Toby smiled at Sam as he clinked their beers together, joining him in taking a few swallows of the cold brew. It was a decent hotel, Dean had booked them each their own room, and after some Kansas City barbecue, they were downing a few in the hotel bar.
She turned her head at an exaggerated giggle, her stomach churning at the sight of the willowy brunette hanging on Dean’s arm and his every word. She rolled her eyes at another ridiculous laugh and turned to face Sam again, nodding towards the pool table. “Play me a game? Then I’m gonna call it a night. I’m feeling a little ill.”
Sam smiled sympathetically. “You know it doesn’t mean anything. I know that doesn’t help, but...”
“Nope, you’re right. It doesn’t. Come on, or are you scared to play me?” They headed for the billiards area and grabbed the unoccupied table. She took another swig of her beer and then shot to break, stiffening as a clumsy, warm body bumped into her from behind.
“Need any help there, honey?” The words were slurred, and she sent an elbow back, not too violently, but enough to make the guy back off a little.
“Pretty sure I’ve got it, Sparky. You can find somebody else to play with.”
“Wow. Just try’na be frenly, don’t hafta be such a bitch.” She rolled her eyes at the sound of Dean’s voice, turning to see him taking a fistful of the drunk’s shirt in his hand.
“I think you owe this lady an apology,” he growled, and Toby glared at him.
“Dean, if I did need any help with this douchebag, which I don’t - Sam’s right here. Why don’t you go back to your play date. I don’t need you to rescue me.”
“See, told ya she’s a bitch,” the idiot mushed out, and Dean shoved him, hard.
“Get the fuck outta here before I kick your ass.” Drunk guy sneered and turned, stumbling his way out.
Toby stared at Dean, her eyes spitting fire, and he drew breath to speak, but Sam’s quiet voice stopped him. “Dean, just let it go.” He looked at Sam, then at the floor, chewing and swallowing his words as he turned and walked away.
“Thanks,” she said, and Sam nodded. “That was about to get ugly.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” He drained the last of his beer. “You want another? It’s still your shot.”
“Yeah, thanks.” She looked up to see Dean back at the bar, the bimbo firmly attached to him again, and turned back to the table, firing off a frustrated shot aimed at nothing in particular, ending in a scratch. She thanked Sam for the beer and downed half of it as he took his turn at the table.
They finished their game and Toby said goodnight, heading to the elevator as Sam went to the bar for one last drink. Her head was pounding, and not from the drinks. All she wanted was bed and unconsciousness.
She stepped off the elevator and cringed as she cursed her timing. Dean and the woman from the bar were in front of his room, and she was practically molesting him as he tried to disentangle himself enough to unlock the door. She swore softly, pulling her key card from her pocket and hoping like hell that she could get inside her room before she was seen. No such luck, though. Dean looked up as she opened her door, startled to see her at first, but then the look in his eyes made her heart lurch. He looked miserable, guilty and ashamed, and it took her several seconds to pull her gaze away and enter her room, slamming the door behind her. She stood there, numb, finally blowing out a breath and lifting a shaking hand to brush back her hair, vaguely surprised to find her face wet with tears.
~~~~~~~~~~
Things were quiet when they got back to the bunker, wordlessly moving around each other and speaking only when necessary. Toby spent most of her time in her room, avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. Just until she could get her feelings under control, she told herself, get back to normal. Because how she was feeling now couldn’t be a permanent thing. She couldn’t take it.
A couple of nights later, she was heading for the kitchen for a late-night snack when she heard Sam’s voice raise and stopped in her tracks. “Why don’t you just talk to her, Dean? Just admit it, you’re scared. Scared shitless.”
“You’re out of line, Sammy. Don’t fucking try to tell me how I feel.” She heard angry footsteps, then a door slamming, and she retreated back to her room.
She was as bad as Dean, just as afraid. They were going to have to talk about it, someday. But not today. She crawled back into bed, wrapped herself in her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut, determined to stop the thoughts that ran rampant every night. She finally fell asleep, losing the battle once again, and dreamed of his green eyes staring back at her, his lips on hers, his hands gripping her arms, his body pressed close. And she woke with a start, aching for him, wondering if he had even come home, or if he was hiding from himself again, in bed with some anonymous stranger.
Bodi paced restlessly, what he thought would be a quick cat nap turned into a long sleep.
The phones rang off the hook, calls from everyone. Khampa, Darma, Ian, Tray. Anyone who had their number was calling. Bodi didn’t dare answer the phone, worried he might say something to bury himself deeper.
Hours passed by and night was already upon him, in spite of his current anxiety he decided to check on Angus, to see if he had calmed down any since his extended cat nap.
Bodi walked into their shared room, it was pitch black, the curtains drawn to rid of any ambient light from outside. Bodi shut the door quietly behind him, tip toeing over to the bed side he most often occupied.
He heard the covers rustle and the water ripple from where Angus always slept in the center of the bed.
“Bodi, there are twenty two beds in this house, choose any one but this one” Angus didn’t sound groggy as he would if he’d been asleep all this time. Bodi concluded he must have had trouble sleeping.
Bodis floppy ears seemed to hang lower at Angus's words. “Angus..”
“I don’t want to hear it Bodi!” Angus growled, as he pulled the blanket over his head.
Bodi didn’t argue, he snuck out of the room, letting Angus have some needed space. It would be the first time Bodi sleeps alone since they’ve been together. The spare room he chose was closest to the master room. It was empty and bleak. Especially when he didn’t have Angus to spoon.
She was laughing at something he’d said and made some retort, but the words wouldn’t process. There was a faint, high-pitching ringing in his brain, and he could feel the blood pounding under his skin. His talons dug into the metal console. He was back on Omega all over again—the smell of smoke and burning bodies as he’d given the dead the only funeral they’d get. Exhaustion. That dizzy feeling when he’d been at his post pounding stims, no food or sleep for days. Just water, omnigel for his gun, and med packs. That hot, mechanical smell as his rifle overheated. Gunfire. Every different type of blood you could imagine—Vorcha, Krogan, Salarian, Asari, Human, Turian…Shepard had stopped talking, but he hadn’t noticed until she was right behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Here’s the update! Sorry I have been so erratic when it comes to posting! I am in grad classes and it has been hard to find the time/emotional energy. Thank you for sticking with me! <3
