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dameronology · 3 years

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the one with all the yelling {obi-wan x reader}

summary: after making a stupid decision in battle and having an argument with your best friend, a confession slips out that surprises both of you (or maybe it doesn’t)

this is a reupload bc i took it down for editing. as usual, this has lots of swearing in, just a pre-warning. enjoy!!

- jazz

They say that time slows down when you’re about to die - that your life flashes before your very eyes. You’re supposed to see the thing you love most, the people you value most. It was meant to be a final moment filled with a lifetime of emotions, of memories; regrets and mistakes; unfulfilled wishes and incomplete to do lists. The way it was described was hauntingly poetic, the sort of thing almost made you want to to experience it just so that you could understand what it felt like.

And, having witnessed a near-death experience in recent hours, you could safely conclude that everything in the aforementioned paragraph was a steaming pile of horse shit.

There was nothing graceful or cinematic about the way you had yeeted yourself across the battle-field, mud unceremoniously flying up around your ass as you kicked Obi-Wan Kenobi out of the line of fire. The blaster fire was inches away from your face - mere inches - and that, of all things, was when you figured the final moments might have come.

Instead, all you got was a hit to the shoulder and a mouth full of dirt. You were very much alive - but after coughing up an unflattering amount of earth and clambering back to your feet with all the grace of a beached whale, the same could not be said for your dignity.

At the forefront of things, you’d been trying to save your best friend’s life. That was all you could think about when you’d launched yourself discourteously towards Obi-Wan; he couldn’t die. Too many people - yourself included - needed him. And, you were certain that if you hadn’t been killed saving his ass, the sudden lack of reason from his presence in your life would have killed you anyways. The man stopped you from walking into traffic on the daily.

You weren’t entirely sure what to say to Obi-Wan. You were sitting on the end of his bed, fresh out of the shower and bundled up in an oversized tunic that belonged to the man pacing in front of you. For a man of many words, he was disturbingly quiet as he stitched you up and even more so when he helped you undress and get into the shower.

What sort of thing were you supposed to say in this situation? Sorry that I booted you up the arse and sent you flying six foot through the air? I had your best interests at heart, I promise.

‘Personally, I am rather pleased with the fact I am still alive.’ You broke the icy silence that had befallen you. Obi-Wan immediately stopped in his pacing tracks, head turning to face you with a bewildered look. Maybe that wasn’t the best conversation opener.

‘How could you…’ Obi-Wan went to say something but his words were lost. He’d witnessed you do a lot of stupid things but this one took the cake. This was stupid thing to end all stupid things. ‘Why would you - actually, I don’t even know what to say.’

‘I mean a thank you would probably suffice.’ You muttered. ‘I did just take a bullet for you.’

‘How could you have been so stupid?!’ He snapped. ‘You could have died!’

‘I was trying to save you!’ You reminded him.

Right. There was that - the alarmingly obvious thing that he’d been trying not to think about.

Obi-Wan couldn’t deny his feelings for you; you’d always been his slightly kooky best friend but maker, he adored you. Life as a Jedi could be dark but you were his nightlight - a soft glow to guide him to brighter things, to remind him that not all was lost.

He’d spent hours convincing himself that you didn’t feel the same. You were too busy running around with what Obi-Wan was certain was a singular brain cell, getting yourself into trouble and making questionable decisions. But, now that you’d quite literally thrown yourself into the line of fire for him? It was certainly a compelling piece of evidence to the contrary.

(Of course, you loved him too. You’d been in love with him since the day you’d met. That was a minor detail you’d chosen not to mention to him - avoiding the truth wasn’t the same as lying, right?)

‘I don’t need saving.’ Obi-Wan said.

‘Oh, please.’ You snorted. ‘You might be Jedi Master Kenobi of the High Jedi Council, Best Jedi To Ever Jedi and Regular Shagger of the Jedi Code-’

‘- you used the word Jedi a few too many times there-’

‘- but you are not bulletproof!’

‘Neither are you!’

‘But I’m alive, aren’t I?’ Your tone was suddenly soft. ‘I’m in one piece.’

‘Barely.’ He murmured. ‘You can’t do things like that.’

‘Well, I did.’ You would have raised your voice louder had your shoulder not been screaming in pain. ‘And stomping around like a pissy toddler isn’t going to change it.’

The most terrifying part - for both of you, truthfully speaking - was how quickly you had done it. You hadn’t even thought about it; you saw red and you launched yourself into the blaster’s path without even considering the consequences. The most important thing to you in that moment had been that Obi-Wan’s life was at risk and it had led to a sudden disregard for your own.

‘I’ll get better.’ You continued. ‘I’m only signed off for a few weeks and as soon as I’m on the mend I will be back in the field. It’ll be like nothing ever happened-’

‘- but it did happen.’ Obi-Wan cut you off. ‘I’m always going to remember that you risked your life for me without even having to think about it.’

Grabbing onto the poster of his bed, you pulled yourself up and slowly approached him. Obi-Wan almost backed away when his robe inched off your shoulders, revealing the nasty red gash just by your collarbone. The idea quickly slipped away, however, when you rested your hands on his forearms, hands slipping under his sleeves and intertwining your fingers.

‘What else would I do?’ You softly laughed. ‘It’s you, Obi.’

‘Would you have done the same for someone else?’ He asked. ‘For Anakin? Or for Ahsoka?’

You faltered slightly, grip on him loosening a tiny bit. ‘Of course.’

‘Y/N.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t lie.’ He suddenly jerked his hands away from you, spinning around on his heel so that you were suddenly facing his back.

‘Fine.’ You grumbled. ‘I would only do it for you. I would only blindly throw myself in front of a bullet for you. Not anyone else. Not a single soul. Does that make you happy? Does that inflate your ego enough, Kenobi-’

‘- that’s not what this is about.’

‘Then tell me!’ You let out a small groan of pain as you grabbed him by the material of his shirt, using every last ounce of energy to make him look at you again. ‘Tell me what it’s about because you are not making sense and I am the world’s leading expert in that field.’

‘It’s not about anything.’

‘Oh, bullshit!’ You whacked his arm, adrenaline worming its way into your tired body and finally allowing you to raise your voice. ‘I just saved your fucking life and you’re acting like a moody son of a bitch and accusing me of lying!’

‘It’s because I love you!’

‘Well, I love you too!’

‘Great!’

‘Fine!’

‘Wonderful!’

‘Brilliant!’

‘Well I’m glad we cleared that up!’

‘Me too!’

‘We should probably stop shouting!’

‘Good idea!’

You unballed your fists just in time to catch the material of Obi-Wan’s shirt as he stepped towards you, taking you by the waist and pulling you towards him. He crashed his lips into yours, knocking the air from your lungs as he did. You’d thought about kissing him many times - more than you were willing to admit, actually - but now that you were actually here, with a handle tangled in his soft hair and his warm lips moving against yours?

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment - for the declaration of love or the kiss or the way he was holding onto you, hands desperately gripping to your waist as though you were about to slip away into the darkness of the galaxy and leave him alone forever. Just a few hours ago, that had been a very real possibility.

You’d admitted to yourself earlier that you probably couldn’t have survived in a world without Obi-Wan Kenobi. Little did you know that he’d admitted to himself years before that he couldn’t have survived without you.

‘I love you.’ His words were softer now, barely a whisper against your lips as pressed his forehead to yours.

‘If I’d known that almost dying was all it took to make you tell me, I would have done it years-’

‘-Y/N.’ He groaned.

‘Sorry.’ You smiled softly. ‘I love you too.’

#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagines

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olivinesea · 3 years

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In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #beginnings

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

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i will make the sky collapse ch. 3

First - Previous - Read on AO3!

Ok this post is queued bc y’all will not believe how busy I am, so it’ll be on ao3 a little late

CW: referenced violence, food, brief allusion to suicide, spiraling thoughts (from mr. jack kelly himself)

Jack had been here all day. When he ran from the rooftop after the disastrous strike, he’d snuck in through the backdoor of the theater and curled up in a corner, shaking and gasping and barely holding back tears. He’d been so close to just throwing himself off the rooftop, close enough that he knew he couldn’t stay there.

Now he hid behind the various set pieces, trying to not disturb anyone who still might be working around here this late. Not that there should be anyone, now. He’d even completely avoided Miss Medda. The woman liked to believe that she knew everything that went on around the theater, and Jack was content enough to let her. He couldn’t be found right now, though. Not when his nose burned and eyes smarted and knees wouldn’t stop shaking.

He would talk to Medda in the morning. It was late now, and all the lights were out, so it wasn’t like he had much of an option otherwise. Talk to her, maybe paint a background or two . . . maybe she would pay him like she offered . . . then he would be out of here, as soon as he could get Crutchie.

Crutchie. His heart practically split in half, and a tear finally slipped down his nose. They got Crutchie. They took him to the one place Jack had tried to save him from his entire life.

He had plans to head there near dawn tomorrow--after he’d spent another day planning things out. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him--or it wouldn’t, had it been anyone other than Crutchie. Any other boy would figure out how to climb down the wall, but it would be impossible without all working limbs. Crutchie’s bad leg wouldn’t be able to support him at all, especially not after the beating he’d taken in the Square (and definitely not after whatever Snyder and his goons had done so far during his stay, but Jack didn’t like to think about that). Jack could go in the front, the only door . . . but there was no way someone wouldn’t see him. There was always a guard or three hanging around, if not the Spider himself. And how would he get Crutchie down the stairs all by his lonesome?

A tiny voice spoke up in the back of his head, one that he’d been pushing down all evening. You coulds just go, it said. Forget about him, forget about all of them. Just go.

I can’t do that, Jack wanted to cry. He’s my brother, I can’ts just abandon him to Snyder!

People don’t stay in our lives forever, Jack, it reminded him. He’d never make it to Santa Fe, anyhow.

Jack couldn’t deny that. Maybe on a better day, in a better month. Maybe when Crutchie was grown, and his leg had calmed down a bit. Not now though, certainly not tomorrow. If Jack was going to leave soon, he was going to do it on his own. He didn’t want none of the others to come with him, anyhow. Only Crutchie.

Jack drew a hand across his tear-stained face, wincing as he brushed one of his bruises. Maybe in the morning he’d have a clearer head, a better understanding of what on earth he was meant to do. It wasn’t like the strike could continue, after all. They’d all end up in the Refuge for sure, or even worse. He’d seen Romeo get socked by that cop, had no idea how he was doing. If they kept on striking, more police would come, better armed and with no qualms about a bunch of stupid street rats.

None of them, save maybe Les, had escaped with zero injuries. Everyone was bleeding and bruised and crying and Crutchie was in the Refuge, and it was all Jack’s fault for getting the riled up about this in the first place. They were just kids! None of them knew what a union was supposed to be, even if Davey knew a bit about them! They were just children playacting at being adults, thinking that the trolley workers were probably having a good old time with no work while they got arrangements for better conditions, not even caring that there were full grown men dying in that strike. People died in strikes, and Jack couldn’t let it happen to any one of his boys, not before they properly got to be a person yet.

So he would leave--no, sleep on it, but he was fairly certain of his choice. Leaving, having to trust that the others would quit the strike and just deal with the raise in prices. That Crutchie would be out in a few months and be good enough to get right back to business, and maybe smiling that face-splitting smile of his eventually. Jack had to believe that he’d--that they’d all--be okay.

He couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach as he balled his shirt up into a pillow, nor could he stop a few more tears from wetting his cheeks. This was going to be by far the hardest and worst thing he’d ever done. He just had to hold on to Santa Fe. Everything was going to be fine when he got there.

Medda had given him one of those disapproving looks of hers, which Jack tried to ignore as his face burned. It had turned to blatant concern when he didn’t refuse her offer of payment. She had let it go, thankfully, and now he was waiting for the base white layer of paint to dry so he could start with the reds and oranges of a sunset. He’d already been waiting for what felt like way too long, so he stuck his thumb to the corner of it. It left a print and came back white, so Jack sighed and wiped it on his shirt--his undershirt, he’d taken his blue button-up off as soon as he’d gotten the paint out.

He couldn’t just not do anything--he could feel his feet itching to go, his head clamoring for his conscious attention. He absently flapped a brush back and forth against his palm, wondering if he could start on another while he waited, get the base coat of that one done and drying while he started on the actual painting of the first one. First he ought to sign this one, though, before he forgot.

Jack always signed his work, usually just on the back of the piece. A quickly scrawled ‘Jack K--’ in black paint, something to set it aside from all the other set pieces. He also knew that the boards would get reused countless times, painted over and cut up and redesigned. It was nice to know that under all that change, his name was there.

He spun it around and cracked open the can of black paint, dipping his brush in lightly and placing it on the blank back of the slab of wood. He could do his name big, more noticeable but with a better chance of getting scraped off. Or tiny, in the corner, somewhere it’d probably stay forever. Then he realized that while he’d been considering, he’d begun painting.

A boy, small, but very clearly a newsie, by his bag. An anguished face. A crutch.

Jack nearly dropped the brush. Was his guilt getting that bad, that he was painting Crutchie out of nowhere? Well, he couldn’t leave him there all alone on the canvas, with such a terrible look on his face. So Jack dipped his brush back in the paint and began another boy, not himself--not now that he was leaving--but Davey, as he liked to think that as Crutchie and Davey would become good friends in time. But Davey needed Les, and Les needed other boys, but of course they couldn’t be painted into this. They were too busy being suffocated by Pulitzer--and with that thought, Jack knew what he was painting.

The landscape had started out as any random place, just like all of them did. Mountains, a valley maybe, warm colors and some purple thrown in to capture the magic of a stained-glass sunset, and suddenly it was Santa Fe, exactly as Jack pictured it in his head. This happened with every single backdrop, from meadows to beaches to forests. All of them were Santa Fe, even if they weren’t.

“You ever gonna paint somewhere else, Jack?” a voice asked behind him, as he surveyed his work so far. He chuckled, not turning around, holding his thumb out in front of him the way he’d seen real painters do. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he thought it looked professional-like.

“How could you tell, Miss Medda?”

“Boy, I can tell everything.”

Jack dropped his arm and set his brush down on the floor, wiping his hands on his shirt as he turned around. Medda frowned.

“You are wearing an apron, use it!”

Oh yeah, he was. He moved his hands to it belatedly, smiling a little when Medda laughed at him. She was dressed to leave, not in a costume like Jack had assumed she would be. Were the shows over already?

“I’m heading out for a quick supper,” Medda said, and Jack nodded. One of the shows was over then, the other would be starting soon. He hadn’t lost track of as much time as he thought. “Do you want me to get you somethin’?”

“Aw, don’t worry ya’self over me,” Jack waved off. Sure, he hadn’t had anything to eat all day, but he could grab himself something later. By the look on Medda’s face, she was going to worry herself over him.

“I’ll bring you a sandwich, free of charge,” she said, reaching forward to pat his shoulder. He winced; he hadn’t realized he had a bruise there. Medda gave him another look, then turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she called, “By the way, Jack, there’s someone here to see you. I told him to wait in box five.”

Jack froze. They’d found him. It had to be Davey, didn’t it? The other boys knew that he stopped by the theater every so often, but didn’t know about his paintings. They just thought he knew one of the actors, or was getting food from the back or something. Only Davey and Les knew he worked here on occasion.

Jack put off visiting the box until after Miss Medda returned and told him to get up there before she sent the kid off herself. It was time to confess, he supposed. Let them know he wanted the strike to stop, and was leaving anyhow. At least someone would be able to tell Crutchie where he’d gone. And Katherine, if she cared.

This time he remembered to wipe his hands on his apron, then bundled it up and threw it into a corner. The painting wasn’t done, but he wanted to let it all dry before adding his finishing details. Every time he’d painted before, he hadn’t waited at all and it always came out looking more smudged than he wanted, so he’d decided to experiment a bit. Maybe it would look okay.

He couldn’t put it off any longer, it was time to face the music--or, Davey, rather. Jack knew his way around the theater, so it wasn’t hard to avoid the milling patrons in the lobby completely and skip straight up to box five, ready to talk to--

Specs?

“Specs?”

Specs.

“Specs.”

Specs leaped up from where he’d been perching on the edge of one of the fancy theater chairs, looking guilty as anything. When he saw Jack, though, his face brightened. “You’re all right!”

“Yeah, better than ever,” Jack griped, his eyes caught on the nasty hand-shaped bruise wrapped around Specs’s forearm. “Whaddya need?”

“We’s thought you mighta gotten grabbed by Snyder,” Specs said, looking him up and down, no doubt taking in his relatively few injuries. “The Delanceys been sayin’ you ran. I think some o’ the fellas mighta believed it, but Race thought ya’d be here so I cames by as soon as I could!”

Jack hadn’t counted on telling anyone other than Davey where he was going, but maybe this was for the best. Davey was so new to this, there was no way he could be in charge. Race was the first to come to mind for his replacement, but Race was so stupidly impulsive that Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to keep the boys in line. Specs would do well, though, at least until a better choice came forward. Used to the life, but always a little separate from the others, focusing more on the job than the social aspect. Still, he could have fun, and he was quietly loyal. Yeah, Specs would make a pretty good replacement. Jack opened his mouth to say something along those lines when a dirty scrap of paper was shoved in his face.

“What’s this?” he said instead.

Specs looked nervous and abashed at the same time. “Letter from Crutchie,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I went ta visit last night and he askeds me to give it to ya.”

Jack stared at the paper, taking in none of its details, then shifted his gaze to Specs. His eyes looked honest, if a bit anxious, mouth curved hopefully at the corner. The scrape on his cheek was ugly, but didn’t look infected. Davey must’ve made them all clean up with soap. That was another thing he’d have to tell Specs to remember. If he was going to be in charge, he had to know that Elmer hated the texture of the soap so bad he wouldn’t use it and had to be threatened, that Race sometimes liked to impulsively smear dirt on his wounds to try and get sympathy when it got infected.

Crutchie had written to him.

Jack grabbed the letter so quickly it almost tore, sending Specs stumbling back. Now that he was focused on it, that was definitely Crutchie’s handwriting, starting out relatively neat and just devolving into larger loops and tinier scribbles as it carried on. The paper was dirty, the pencil smudged here and there, and a rusty stain in the middle of the paper that made Jack’s stomach turn as he imagined how it had gotten there.

“I’ll just be headin’ back,” he heard Specs say distantly, but Jack couldn’t look away from the letter. Crutchie had held this, just last night, and he had been alive. Well enough to write a whole letter. Well enough to still have his sense of humor (Jack snorted at his joke about the food, then remembered the sentence preceding it and immediately sobered). Maybe even well enough to escape?

His letter read that he was already coming up with escape plans of his own, which was a good sign for his morale. It also said, though, that he was exhausted and his leg was doing bad.

Well, there was no way Jack couldn’t visit him now. Early in the morning was best--probably when the moon was about halfway done setting--and from there he would see whether or not Crutchie would be coming with him. Then back to the theater to lay low for a bit and finish the backdrop (there was no way Jack would be able to even think about finishing it tonight), then catch a train to Santa Fe and be out of here forever. If Crutchie did come, though, he’d have to do at least two more sets, get enough money for the both of them to make the trip. And of course, he still had to speak to Specs about taking over. Davey would come for him eventually, so he had to come up with something to placate him.

Why did nobody tell him that running away would take so much effort and planning?

The show was starting soon, and that sandwich was still waiting for him in the back room, so Jack ducked out of the box, tucking the letter into his pocket. He had to get ready for a break-in tonight, there was no time to waste.

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

An Illicit Affair- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: KOH!Harrison Osterfield X Angel!Reader

Prompt: Harrison can only visit you in the mortal world on the 13th of each month, but, with his powers weakening, he’s given an ultimatum: his crown or you.

Word Count: 3800

Warnings: dark undertones bc it’s Hell?, might be some swearing, my general lack of knowledge of Hell/demons

And shout out to @duskholland for hearing all my shitty ideas before I landed on this one 😂

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Moodboard is mine, pics used are not*

Inspired by the lyric from Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift:

“And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times”

~~~~

You smiled, looking through the glass roof, watching as the humans bustled beneath you at the mall. You could see everything from your spot: the employees happily leaving their jobs as the clock struck 1, the high school couple that was on their first date, the children running around the indoor playground, the elderly couple enjoying their ice cream at the food court, the college student that found a $10 bill on the ground that you may or may not have conjured right then for them- everyone was content.

“I don’t think angels are supposed to do that.” You heard a smooth voice behind you as a warmth washed over you.

“I don’t think the devil’s supposed to be with an angel.” You teasingly replied, turning to face Harrison on the roof.

“When does the devil ever listen?” Harrison smirked. He raised a hand to caress your face, doing his best to memorize every little detail.

“I missed you.” You said quietly.

“I missed you, too.” He cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for a gentle, yet passionate kiss to show you just how much he’s missed you this past month.

As King of Hell, he could only leave Hell and visit the mortal world once a month- on the 13th to be exact from noon until midnight. Meanwhile, you, like all other angels, could freely walk the Earth as long as your wings beat. The 13th, though it was a fearful day for most with demons coming about, was the best day for you, every single month, because you got to see Harrison. It was an illicit affair, but neither of you wanted it to end, even if it killed you to watch him disappear into a puff of red smoke every single time.

“You’re late.” You murmured against his lips, your breath falling into his breath. Harrison stayed silent, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, mindful of his horns. His hands found your waist to keep you as intimately close to him as possible. Your fingers ran through his hair, tracing mindless patterns in the soft curls. He leaned into your touch, and you knew something was seriously wrong. You could sense the turmoil within him, stronger than ever before. “What’s troubling you, my love?”

“It’s nothing.” He whispered into your skin, his warm breath tickling you.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath as you let your mind wander, trying to reach out to his. You could read the minds of mortals and understand what true happiness they sought with ease; with Harrison though, he was much trickier for you to read. His mind was filled with the voices of all the dead souls in the Underworld, but, still, you had to try, if he wasn’t going to tell you. Normally, he would pull away as soon as he felt your mental presence to protect you from having to listen to all the demonic voices, but this time, it was like he wasn’t even present there- in his own mind. You paused your journey through his mind as you realized the voices were louder, and his own thoughts were impossible to hear. You pulled your mind from his and breathed out in confusion, “You’re weak, aren’t you?”

Harrison pulled back from you to look you in the eyes. His dead eyes searched through your lively ones. “How did you know?”

“I read your mind.” You whispered, and his face fell at the realization.

“I couldn’t feel you.” He answered in disbelief.

“Harrison, talk to me. What’s going on?” You asked, and he let out a small sigh.

“I can’t keep coming here.” Harrison’s voice broke as he continued, “Every time I leave Hell, I lose more and more control over it. Yesterday, a few souls got past Cerberus.”

You were silent for a moment, knowing the weight of his words. Cerberus was the physical representation of Harrison’s control over the souls, and the three headed dog kept demons from leaving Hell whenever they pleased. While demons, including himself, could come to the mortal world once a month, he was the only one to continuously suffer from it. Every visit to see you was a chip away at his power; even now, he could feel his grip on the other undead souls slipping away. If he lost that power completely, the demons would overrun the Earth and destroy the angels- everything would go to apocalyptic ruin. Harrison drew his power from the flames of Hell, and the only solution was for him to stay there and not return to the mortal world until he was strong enough to keep the souls at bay.

“You must go.” You said quietly, feeling your heart break at your own words. “You must go and regain your power.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” You could sense the tremor in Harrison’s voice- he was scared of losing his power, but he was scared of losing you even more.

“But you need to. You can’t save me if the demons come.” They were gruesome words, but he needed to hear them. He needed to remember that, while he wanted to protect you, he couldn’t protect you if he lost his powers.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He admitted. “I don’t know when I can return to you.”

“We have eternity, my love.” You reassured him. The familiar red smoke began to circle at his feet, and you quickly pulled him in for one last kiss, “I love you, Harrison.”

He didn’t get the words out before the smoke overcame him and he disappeared, but you already knew- you knew he loved you, and you’d see him again some day.

~~~

When Harrison returned to the Underworld, the familiar red and black gates opened with an ominous hiss. On his walk to his dark palace, he checked in on the surroundings. The same overcast clouds blocked out all sunlight except for the faded rays peeking through just enough to keep it lit, the same river Styx carved out a trail through the never ending darkness, the same flames burned in the distance to illuminate the various paths, and the same dead trees lined those very pathways. It was dreary as always, but it was his domain, his home.

He wanted to bring you here one day, just so he could show you the spots he loved in Hell, albeit they were a bit gloomier than you were used to. You were used to a picnic under the Tree of Life in Heaven, but if you came down here with him, he’d take you for a stroll along the River Styx. He’d introduce you to Cerberus too, the three headed dog that brought him joy even in the darkest pit of Hell.

“You’re back early.” Tom, his grand duke, noted when Harrison returned to the grand palace. When Harrison didn’t reply and continued his stalk to his office, Tom tried again to get his attention, “Was she not there?”

“She was there.” Harrison answered sharply, slamming his office door behind him, wordlessly telling his grand duke that he didn’t want to be bothered at this moment. He let out an angry sigh, steaming coming from his breath as he sat in his large, leather chair. The heat in his office was unbearable today; Hell was unbearable today.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with you on Earth, where the two of you could be together, even if it was just for twelve short hours on the 13th of every month. His eyes flickered over the single black feather that sat in a glass case on his desk, the only thing he had to physically remind him of you.

“It’s almost midnight.” Your voice was just above a whisper.

“Sh. We have time.” Harrison replied softly, running his hands through your hair, before his lips found yours for the hundredth time that day. You could feel every bit of warmth he radiated rushing through your body. In the desperate heat of the kiss, Harrison’s hands roamed your body to pull you closer to him. His finger barely caught on one of your wings, and you jumped away from him, crying out in pain.

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you alright?” He looked at you in concern, not daring to reach out to you. He watched as a single feather dropped from your pure, white angel wings and turned black as night. He felt foolish for forgetting the curse of a demon’s touch, especially his; when a demon touches an angel’s wings, they return to Heaven and lose the ability to fly, forever left to guard the pearly gates above. He got lucky this time. His finger had touched only one feather, not your full wing, but it was enough to make him ashamed of himself and afraid of his own touch.

You took a deep breath as you grabbed the dark feather from the ground, stretching out your wings; the one still tingled from the burn of his touch. When your eyes met Harrison’s, you saw the frightened and ashamed look on his face. You stepped towards him, and he backed away. “Harrison, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I hurt you, I almost took away your wings.” He shook his head as he spoke. “I could’ve lost you.”

“It was one feather, and I know you never meant to hurt me.” You reassured him. You flew a little until you were in front of him and took his hands in yours, slipping the black feather into his palm. “They still work. You haven’t lost me.”

Red smoke started to simmer at his feet, and you gave him one last tender kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled softly at him, “I’ll see you in a month.”

It seemed strange to Harrison that it was only a year ago when that occurred; it felt like ages ago, but yet again, that was the life of an immortal. He just wished he could feel like he did back then- powerful as the king of hell with you by his side.

~~~

With each passing day, Harrison‘s stress over his rule increased. More and more, demons were slipping away into the mortal world. It had been three months since he had been to Earth, since he had seen you, and he didn’t feel like he was regaining any of his strength. Tomorrow, the 13th, would’ve been his chance to see you again, but he knew he had to remain in Hell if there was any hope at keeping the demons from overrunning the angels.

“There’s been another escape.” Tom informed Harrison, rushing up to the king as he strolled along the River Styx.

“How many is that now?” He asked, fearing the answer already.

“113.” The grand duke replied, “If any more escape-“

“I know.” Harrison cut off his friend, not wanting to hear what would happen if he didn’t get a better handle on the situation. “I need my strength back, and I need it back now.”

“What if it isn’t about you leaving Hell?” Tom offered, making the kill look at him in confusion, “You’re the King of Hell, of course your reign would weaken in your absence, but what if your actual power is weakened from something else- or rather, someone else?”

Tom was the only one who knew about you, the only one Harrison trusted enough to tell, but Harrison never thought his love for you could be his greatest weakness, not when you felt like his greatest strength. Before Harrison could respond, a voice called out from behind them.

“Someone else? Has the devil found a woman?” The figure stepped out from the shadow of an old oak tree. Harrison and Tom recognized the other demon immediately.

“Lucifer.” Harrison acknowledged curtly. “What do you want?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” Lucifer asked, a hand placed over his chest in offense as he stalked towards them. He feigned innocence, “I was just simply walking past when I saw the Grand Duke run up to you in a hurry, and I feared for our world.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Lucifer.” Tom scoffed. Harrison may have been the king, but Lucifer was always hungry for more power, seeking out ways to seize control of Hell.

“Am I not allowed to be concerned for our world?”

“When it’s considered eavesdropping on private matters, no you are not allowed to.”

Lucifer clicked his tongue at Tom’s response, his red eyes shifting to Harrison, who stayed silent, “Who is it? A mortal?” Harrison’s jaw clenched, and Lucifer smirked, red eyes lighting up in recognition, “An angel. Why, that’s an interesting pair.”

“What’s it to you?” Harrison questioned, his fingers tingling with a new found heat that rushed through his system.

“Oh, nothing.” He replied, but the answer didn’t satisfy Harrison. “Have you ever seen a wingless angel and the scars that trace their backs? There’s no greater feeling in all the worlds than running a hand through their feathers and watching as each one burns off, listening to their agonizing screams as they retreat to Heaven for the rest of their days.”

At his words, Harrison flooded with a new-found anger, grabbing Lucifer by the neck, his black claws growing out of his hands to prick at his skin. Through gritted teeth, he warned, “If you so much as breathe on her-”

“Or what?” Lucifer tested, “You’re weak. You can’t stop me, but I’d be willing to negotiate.” Slowly, Harrison set him down and tried to calm his breathing, steam coming out with each exhale.

“What’s the deal?”

“I won’t touch your precious angel if you give me the crown and join the mortals.” He offered, and Tom stepped forward, cautiously putting a hand on Harrison’s shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s a trick.” Tom stated, already knowing Harrison would give everything to ensure your safety. If Lucifer took your wings, you would be trapped in Heaven forever, and, as immortals, forever was an even longer time.

“I’ll give you time to think about it, your majesty. After all, I won’t take my chances with Cerberus today when tomorrow is the 13th.” He grinned wickedly, before walking away and disappearing into the shadows of Hell.

“Harrison-“ Tom started, but it was too late; he’d already disappeared, teleporting to his office, one of the perks of being the Devil. The grand duke let out a sigh before hurrying back to the palace to speak with his friend.

By the time Tom reached the palace, Harrison was pacing around the office with a piece of parchment in one hand and the single black feather in the other. Before he could speak, Harrison shoved the paper into the grand duke’s hands, “I need you to give this to her.”

“You can’t give up your kingdom to Lucifer. You know he’ll strip her of her wings and kill you all over again.” Tom reasoned.

“I’ll change the deal- make it so that he can’t harm us. If I don’t, Lucifer will never leave her alone.” There was an eerie silence in the room as Harrison turned away from Tom, stalking over to the fireplace. “Tomorrow, go to her and give her the letter. She needs to know that she isn’t safe anymore.”

“How do you know the letter will pass through the portal with me?”

“I just do.” He replied, his fingers running over the cold feather as his eyes focused on the fire. Tom quietly backed out of the room, letter in hand to prepare for his journey to Earth tomorrow.

Harrison looked at the feather in his hand. He raised it to his lips, murmuring, “It’ll be alright, my love.”

~~~

The past three months had been especially dreary for you. The first month was similar to any other, living on that hope that it was just a matter of days until Harrison would be back, but, of course, he wasn’t strong enough to return after a month away. And then the second month passed, and now it was the third one. You had hope, knowing he’d come back to you at some point, just like he always did.

You weren’t sure if he was getting any stronger. More and more demons were slipping past the gates of Hell and entering the mortal world when they weren’t supposed to be there. At first, the other angels tried to combat them and banish them back to where they belong, but then the demons would rip their wings out. Not many angels remained on Earth, fearing the imminent apocalypse. You remained, though, feeding on that hope that he’d gather his strength and regain his control of the realm.

Without the light of all the angels, Earth was growing darker, colder. You sat on the roof of the mall, right where you were every 13th day of the month, looking through the glass at the people below. The humans weren’t happy, not even when you’d send someone a little gift of joy. And you weren’t happy either; your world was bleak and cold as well without Harrison there. Even Heaven felt wrong to you now. You felt a wave of warmth wrap around you, but it wasn’t the same warmth that Harrison would greet you with; defensively, you turned to the figure.

“I’m a friend.” Tom said, holding up his hands in surrender, one hand clutching tightly onto the letter. You searched his mind for a moment in a search to see if he was speaking the truth. Hearing his thoughts flicker back to Harrison in concern, you pulled yourself back to reality.

“Tom the Grand Duke.” You stated, and he did a little bow for you.

“And you must be Y/N.” He smiled. Harrison had told you of his best friend, the grand duke, but he was never able to introduce the two of you. It was Tom’s job to act as king in his absence; the two of them never able to leave Hell together.

“Is he okay?” You asked, worried about why Harrison would send his friend.

“He’s as okay as he can be.” Tom replied as he held out the letter to you. “He wanted me to give this to you.”

“Thank you.” You said politely. You took the paper from him, opening it up and reading it quickly.

‘My love,

The longer I have been away from you, the weaker I have become. I want more than anything to cross the portal and be with you, but I must be cautious. Lucifer has learned of your importance to me, and he plans to steal your wings to use them and you against me. By the time you read this, I shall be making a deal with him. He will only leave you unharmed if I surrender my crown and my immortal life to him. I will live as a mortal on Earth, powerless and crownless, but it will be worth it because I can still see your beautiful face. I miss you, and I shall see you soon, even if it is in a different life.’

Tom stepped forward hesitantly as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, wetting the letter in the process. He reached out console you, and you leaned into his warm touch, crying from the note. All of the hope you had for Harrison’s return washed away, but you couldn’t let him throw away his life, his title, his world for you.

~~~

“And Y/N remains unharmed,” Harrison said, before adding definitively, “Forever.”

“You have my word.” Lucifer answered. “Anything else?”

“As long as she’s safe.” He stated, and the other demon nodded, holding out a hand to him. Harrison went to shake it, but paused when he felt an odd presence overcome him, like someone had just entered Hell when they weren’t meant to. Before he could go investigate the new arrival, the palace doors opened and in walked Tom with you beside him.

“Y/N?” Harrison questioned, unsure if you were really there or if he had somehow envisioned you. He ran over to you, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here.” You smiled weakly at him. His eyes ran over every detail of your face, taking in all of it, just as he always did after being away from you. He stepped back as he realized your figure wasn’t accompanied by your pure, white wings. He opened his mouth to ask, but you cut him off, “I wasn’t about to let you give up your crown for me.”

“But Heaven-”

“Doesn’t like angels having affairs with the Devil.” You told him with a small laugh. “It didn’t take much for them to free me. I’m here, and I’m here to stay.” Harrison smiled, leaning in to kiss you, overcome with happiness.

“What about our deal?” Lucifer questioned, drawing the attention of the room back to him. Protectively, Harrison stepped in front of you and kept a single intertwined with yours.

“We never shook on it, and now that Y/N’s a demon like you, I’d say there’s nothing you can do to hurt her.” Harrison said.Lucifer ran from the room as a fire flickered in Harrison’s eyes. The room fell silent momentarily before the sound of Cerberus’s distant growls filled Hell, followed by the sound of screaming souls. You felt a wave of heat rush from Harrison’s hand into yours and through your body as he turned to face you. He felt his power come flooding back, the escaped souls returning to the Underworld. The Devil was back at his full strength with you right by his side.

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

and, for this fic: @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n

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kirishwima · 4 years

Note

Don’t worry about us, please try not to stress out. I am only sending in this request merely due to it not leaving me alone. RFA+V, Unknown (cannot remember how to spell his name) reactions to MC in their wedding dress, what type of wedding will they have? Please do not mind and please study wisely.

ahh this is a cute and light-hearted idea :’) You speak of a wedding dress but refer to MC as they/them, so I’ll be writing for them as non-binary!

I’ll also add photos of what I think their wedding dress/suit would be bc....I have to, and because I have a whole pinterest board of wedding dresses saved from last summer when I was helping my sister plan her wedding orz :’)

YOOSUNG:

* When speaking of weddings, Yoosung’s always imagined the beautiful classics; standing at the altar, seeing the love of his life walk down the aisle dressed in the most gorgeous gown, his smile broadening at the sight of them.

* He himself wore a humble black suit, but with a baby blue bow-tie; reminiscing of his own innocence.

* He absoloutely had Zen help him pick out his suit; they took Seven along too but he kept insisting Yoosung should just wear a onesie instead lmao

* He did discuss with MC what they’d like to wear; when they said they wanted to wear a dress, he immediatly thought of classic puffy white dresses with lace and toule.

* Seeing MC walk towards him though, he couldn’t help how his jaw hung open, how his eyes widened. “Lucky you”, he heard Seven whisper, standing besides him as his best man.

* MC was like a princess, and he, their soon-to be prince. He took their hand as they reached the altar, kissing their knuckles with a wide smile. He’d ditched his glasses for the wedding, finally able to see better with the help of surgery, and he blessed each of his doctors for being able to witness the sight that was MC.

*Overall he’s just a tearful happy nugget, and 10/10 will choke with tears whilst saying his vows

ZEN:

* Despite what you may be thinking, he actually doesn’t dream of big fancy weddings and expensive venues. His ideal wedding would be something simple; a gathering of friends and loved ones, perhaps even by the beach, being able to stand besides the one he loves comfortably and proudly.

* He’s glad that he and MC are on the same page about that; even if he’s a celebrity, his humble approach to life never changed, and he wants their wedding to reflect that. So a wedding by the beach it is!

* It’s Zen we’re talking about, so even a potato sack would look flattering on him, so his choice of suits is endless. He’s classy but doesn’t like the plain old black suit, so instead he goes for something more summery, given their venue.

* I can really imagine him in a linen suit, ditching the tie for a more laid-back look, his hair tied into an intricate braid, even wearing one or two little white flowers at its end.

* He’d be just as awe-struck with how MC looks no matter what they’d wear, suit or dress, casual or formal. He’ll love them just as much if he sees them every morning in their pyjamas and bed hair, or in a gown and heels.

* Simple and elegant, and nicer than the summer breeze blowing through Zen’s hair, he had to bite his lip, blinking back tears threatening to fall at the thought he’s about to spend the rest of his life with his beloved. (Also he has to fight the Beast until later tonight and hoo boy is that a hassle or WHAT)

* All in all-he’s one happy hecking groom, and he can’t wait to tear that dress off of them the moment they’re in their private quarters lol

JAEHEE:

* Honestly...she didn’t see the point of holding a wedding at first. Did she fantasize about it as a little girl? Sure, she did. But as she got older and the thought of dating and family got further and further away from her, that childhood dream was put aside, stored in the repressed part of her brain.

* It’d been MC who proposed, and MC who began the planning for the wedding-they didn’t want Jaehee to feel burdened with organizing, but the more Jaehee worked to plan their wedding, the more she fell in love with the idea of this special day just for the two of them, and the more she fell in love with MC, seeing their hard work and adoration towards her.

* They didn’t want to have an all-out wedding like many couples do; just them, their families and the RFA, a little get together to celebrate a milestep of their life together.

* They had arrived at the dillema of; will we both wear suits? Dresses? Should one of us wear a suit and the other a dress? In the ned MC suggested they each decide on a look without telling the other, so it’ll be just as much of a surprise for each of them to see the other on their wedding day!

* Jaehee is a practical woman, yes, but we know that she’s not the strict short-haired lady she was whilst working with Jumin-she allows herself to explore femiminity more and more in her route, and I feel that’d be evident in her choice of a wedding gown-simple, yet elegant and chic.

* With her hair in a gorgeous loose bun, flowers adorning her head, her ring-finger soon to be decorated with a delicate ring she and MC chose together-she almost can’t believe the person looking back at her in the mirror is herself.

* Less so can she believe that the person she’s about to marry is soon walking towards her, a smile on their face as if they’re the lucky one to be marrying Jaehee when Jaehee stares wide-eyed at the beautiful person she’s eagerly waiting to spend the rest of her life with;

* Of course they’d choose a dress with pockets, she thinks with a roll of her eyes, if only to tease Jaehee about her own lack of pockets later on.

* They both can’t help but stare at each other as they meet at the altar, wide eyed with incredulous smiles. The preacher even has to cough politely to get their attention back to well, their wedding lmao

* It’s everything Jaehee could’ve wanted and then some.

JUMIN:

* Yeah yeah, it’s Jumin Han, the handsome man in a suit, and yeah he’s gonna have an all-out wedding alright-but only if that’s what MC wants.

* He honestly...doesn’t care what the ceremony will be like, who will be there or what they’ll say. He only cares about seeing MC’s ring finger adorned with a rind that has his surname engraved in it, a mark on them that says MC’s his, his and no one elses.

* Even if he wears suits on the daily, his wedding is no exception; he’ll wear a suit tialored to perfection, classic black and sleek, matching his raven-dark hair, slicked back for the occasion-he’d go to the ceremony in his pyjamas if he had to, so long as he’s able to call MC his spouse once the day’s over.

* He had given MC the absoloute liberty of choosing what to wear, with the only condition being they have the best tailors across the world work on their outfit, wanting it to be as unique and wonderful as MC themself.

* It was jarring at first, to have 5 or 6 professionals tug and probe at MC whilst working on their measurements and meeting up to discuss their style, but they figure that’s just how life with Jumin as their husband will be-extreme, sometimes awkward, but full of love and care; they could see it in his smile when they came home from their fitting, tired but happy as they snuggled up in his arms, him stroking their hair until they fell asleep.

* It’s hard to find a dress picture that I feel captures what MC’s dress would be, but I think the closest to it would be something like this;

* “The most befitting dress for royal beauty such as yours”, Jumin whispers to MC’s ear as they approach him at the altar, his smile small and private, for MC’s eyes only.

* Yet as he leans down to kiss them, completely ignoring the preacher waiting to start the ceremony, he whispers on their lips ‘I love you’, and MC knows from the bottom of their soul, that no matter what they wore, how they looked, Jumin would love them just as much. And they’re forevel grateful for that.

* p.s: Elizabeth the 3d is ABSOLOUTELY going to be the ring bearer, and she’ll have her own little dress appropriate for the occasion, fight me on this.

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* Y’all....tease him about the ‘let’s get married at the space station’ bit all you want, but this boy DREAMS of a wedding, a family and happy life for so long, you can never convince me he doesn’t go all out for his wedding.

* A beautiful, flower-covered venue? Check. Tailored, custom-made suit? Check. Planning everything to the most minute detail? YES. He’ll run himself dry working on creating the perfect wedding, it’ll take some convincing from MC to tone it down lmao.

* He’ll still insist on inviting absurd guests just like he did with the RFA parties, but in all honesty, he just wants MC besides him, Saeran and Yoosung next to him as hie best men (yes he can have both of them shush), the rest of the RFA there to congratulate him and MC on their special day; the people he loves, to celebrate the day of uniting with his one true love, that’s all Saeyoung wants.

* To be able to say ‘I love you MC’, and to have MC tell him ‘I love you, Saeyoung’-to formally and completely leave the life of 707 behind, to have his brother hug him, congratulate him on his wedding-this is all more than enough to make Saeyoung cry happy tears, pushing his palms on his eyes as he laughs and cries at the same time, letting MC hug him to help him calm down.

* While he does dream of a classic classy wedding, he loves the colour red a little too much, so he’d try and sneak it in there, be it in a vest or bow tie lol (he’d absoloutely wear a bow tie instead of a tie, and he’d be allowed one (1) doctor who joke for the duration of the ceremony lmao)

* ((also....not relevant to the wedding itself, but his marriage proposal would absoloutely be at a planetarium, js))

* As for MC...they’d spent nights on the couch together, eating chips and wondering what they’d each wear on the day of their wedding. They ended up taking Jaehee and some more of their friends with them when looking for a dress, as much as Saeyoung pouted and asked to tag along.

* It was worth it to keep him in the dark though; his big wide eyes as MC walked towards him, how he had to bite his lip to stop giggling like a fool, he was jumping up and down at the altar, giggling behind his hands as he mumbled ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god allah and buddha!’.

* “Holy shit” he whispered to himself, earning a stern gaze from the preacher, his brother groaning in the background. MC took it as a compliment though, smiling up at him as they stood across him.

* This boy....will cry real ugly snort filled tears at his wedding vows, I guarantee it.

V/JIHYUN:

* BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING

* Like hello??? Have you seen this hippie-ass man at the end of his route?? He’ll be so happy with a marriage ceremony in the forest, in a little church that looks almost abandoned in its little spot at the edge of the woods, in a little city no one knew before V brought it up.

* He’d love to help decorate and renovate the church for their wedding, using funds taken from a painting collection he did featuring the very forest the church sits besides.

* (I can also totally picture their wedding taking place in a botanical garden/greenhouse, if you’d rather skip the church option! Just surrounded by plants and nature :D)

* Even if it’s not a boho wedding though-just being able to spend the rest of his life besides MC, the person that truly taught him what love is, that’s all handsome mint boy needs.

* Honestly...he’s extra enough to be the kind of guy that ditches the shirt, so I can imagine him wearing something like the following, but in a darker colour;

* As for MC....yeah I’m gonna add my personal favorite here bc bOHO WEDDING DRESSES ARE GORGEOUS AND MC WOULD LOOK LIKE A FAE APPEARING THROUGH THE WOODS AND JIHYUN WOULD ABSOLOUTELY GASP AT THE SIGHT OF THEM, WIPING AWAY A STRAY TEAR AS HE KISSES THEIR FOREHEAD WHEN THEY REACH HIM AT THE ALTAR, SAYING A QUIET ‘THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU’ ONLY MC CAN HEAR.

((something with a little simpler bust, but the puffy sleeves,,,flowy dress,,,the line cut that’s honestly so charming on any figure,,,fight me this is the cutest kind of dress))

UNKNOWN/SAERAN:

* He’d really want a small, closed wedding just for him, MC, and the RFA sure, why not (he’s kidding, he’s grown really fond of them all but he refuses to openly admit it)

* If MC suggests they hold their ceremony at a greenhouse he’ll be over the moon; he’ll personally visit the greenhouse and make sure all the flowers are in tip top condition for their wedding.

* For his own suit, he’d like to keep things simple, maybe even ditching the whole suit and tie thing;

* I really imagine him with a suit similar to this, but ditching the vest , with flowers pinned to his blazer that he looks fondly at, knowing MC will be holding a bouquet just like these, ones he himself picked out with all his love and care, removing each thorn to make sure nothing can harm their hands as they hold the bouquet.

* As MC walks towards him through the greenhouse his breath shudders, any words he may have had dying in his throat; MC looks ethereally beautiful and he’s out of words as they come to stand in front of him, his lips trembling.

* Is this person really his? The one he’ll be able to hold, to love for as long as he lives? He shakingly takes MC’s hand in his, giving them a tight squeeze as he smiles.

* “In sickness and in health” he whispers, smiles as MC says it back.

* In sickness and in health.

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-

#this honestly took way more time than it'd take to make a usual headcanon post #bc i took so much time looking for photos orz #still this was cute and easy to write given my circumstances #hope ya like it!#asks #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger prompts #mysme prompts #yoosung kim #hyun ryu #jumin han #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #jihyun kim #Anonymous

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smalltragedy · 3 years

Text

* herman tommeraas, cis man + he/him | you know donovan mercer, right? they’re twenty one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, four months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ice boy by corbin like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15th, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

looks away as i finally post his intro after being kinda awol fr however long. i love him a lot n hes also bri’s character mercy’s younger brother so u hv to be nice to him. think abt mercy’s life. then think abt ducky. im sry in advance tht his intro’s a little longer ive hd ducky fr like. a year or two n i’ve been playing him a While <3 as always like this if u’d like 2 plot n i’ll try 2 msg u bck bt otherwise im gna just hop right into threads bc obv i need to. change my methods.

ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG ABUSE, EYE INJURY, GANG MENTIONS TW.

mini playlist.

father ;; the front bottoms / ice boy ;; corbin / lose yourself ;; eminem / my own worst enemy ;; lit / say it ain’t so ;; weezer / maps ;; yeah yeah yeahs / star stopping ;; lil peep / benz truck ;; lil peep / trauma ;; nf / northern downpour ;; panic! at the disco / your graduation ;; modern baseball.

statistics.

full name: donovan mercer.

nickname(s): ducky.

birthday: march 15th, 1999.

zodiac: pisces sun, aquarius moon, aquarius ascending.

mbti & temperament: intp & theorist / phlegmatic.

label: the despondent.

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york.

sexuality: bisexual (bt not out).

pinterest.

biography.

born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)

his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.

implied abuse tw // their father was not kind, or merciful - and ducky was a runt compared to mercy, small and sensitive and kinder than his brother. weak, and filled with softness, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice - but it didn’t. and it never did.

he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed. implied abuse end of tw

he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.

abuse mention // but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be. end of abuse mention

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. he never graduated high school.

abuse mention // anxiety mention // anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

heavy abuse tw // violence tw // it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly.

eye injury // corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

the mercer brothers have been floating around the north carolina scene for ~5ish years now, trailing after their father who is consistently chasing after their mother with no luck. they’re currently residing in palm motel. can we get a hell yeah?

personality & facts.

he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.

and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.

he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.

it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.

you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.

violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be on him harder. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs and leaves the rest for mercy. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy.

a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing.

he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it.

pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.

in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.

drug abuse // has a. complicated relationship with benzos n xanax n a various assortment of painkillers. ironic bc he hates drugs due to. his chosen career n wldnt do most of what they sell, bt yknow. this ws inevitable. hates beer bt forces himself 2 drink it bc toxic masculinity probably man idk.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

violence mention // purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted plots.

u look good tonight ... ;; wld love a connection in which he is feeling emotionally compromised n maybe kinda hs a thing w someone bt hes like. very unreliable n kinda ghosting bc he is very afraid n it wld b maybe bad fr them to b anything other than hook ups. cld apply to smth very intensive or smth very surface lvl i’ll take thousands.

palms sweaty ... moms spaghetti ... ;; ppl tht ducky just hs fkn brawled. cld b anybody fr any reason. ducky prob lost n he prob lost on purpose bt also ur muse cld maybe kick ducky’s ass? cld b a fake fight cld b a real fight. cld b a npc fight n then ur muse cn patch up ducky? possibilities endless. maybe they hv a nice spaghetti dinner n both of them r both bruised up frm their fight. sometimes fights end in spaghetti dinners. thanks eminnem or whatever.

own worse enemy... ;; ducky needs friends bt hes bad at making friends n sometimes he fks shit up by pushing ppl away n self sabotaging n being a major cunt n sometimes he just ghosts bt hes always very remorseful abt it? this cld b a very like. up n down friendship of any type its just. where do they stand. r they friends. r they enemies. r they lovers? probably not lovers. prob just platonic. but still its the thought tht counts.

and also ;; literally just like. anything. clients who buy off of him n like. casual friends n casual enemies n casual hookups. ppl hes ghosted. ppl hes embarrassed himself in front of. maybe ur muse tries to get ducky to socialize or maybe ducky is like. u are too much fr me. n ur muse runs off crying. endless possibilities all u hv to do is call this number now.

#abuse tw #violence tw #drug abuse tw #gangs mention #eye injury tw #irvingintro #( ducky mercer. ) about. / ice boy.#sighs sm #also sry fr hw embarrasingly late this is #did i even spell tht rigth? no #did i spell tht one right? bno.#fuck.

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toshis-puppycat · 4 years

Text

Unfortunately, I Think I Love You Too Part 2

A/n: I should mention bcs I seemed to have forgotten to put it. Y/n does go out. Ya know food is necessary for living. But she does not go out with Heros. Like her off duty self blocks off any connection to heros. Except for like three of them, technically now four, which I'll slightly get into today and it's the only spoiler you're getting. Also I just wanted to put again this is dedicated to @traqicalromance the girl who's got all my uwus!! I was debating about posting this first but ya'll know how it goes 😁 Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Hawks is gonna be more into, well your life now. And oof, you are not happy about that.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

A couple days had passed since that fatal day you decided to work with Hawks. You were being followed, no big deal. It was only when you decided to go out as a civilian that you were being followed. No one knew you were a pro-hero after all, Hawks had kept his promise of not telling anyone what you looked like, it was the one thing you felt grateful for at the moment. But this was too much. You literally had to walk where heros patrolled now. But of course it couldn't be just any hero oh no. It had to be him. It just had to be where Hawks and his sidekicks patrolled. And wouldn't you know it he fucking preened at the fact you walked through where he was patrolling. You knew he was.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

He wasn't. It was concerning how you were walking through where he patrolled now. And he knew for a fact you thought he didn't notice the same thing you did. You were being followed. He could see it the moment you ended up walking through his patrol the first time. Knowing your face helped a lot in that sense. You never walked through his areas before, especially not when he patrolled. He always made sure to fly down to where you were when you walked through, it seemed like when he did that the person following you would stop. You wouldn't scowl at him, when he'd do it but he could see the thinly veiled irritation in your eyes. You probably thought he was goading you into doing something. He wasn't trying to do that per say, but damn did you look pretty when you got angry at him. It's why he liked you so much when you'd first met at that charity event. It was pretty cool how you somehow managed to avoid having other heros know what you looked like. The few being a former pro, Sir Nighteye and Nezu. Although your relationship with Nighteye seemed to be a bit off. Not in a bad way necessarily but your interactions with each other were strained. In your hero garb you had no problem talking with All Might or Nezu, but Nighteye was different. Anyone who paid attention could see it. And Hawks paid a lot of attention to you.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

When you got home there was a note on your door.

"Don't think that hero can hide you."

You quickly went inside your home and prepared for your patrol that night. Taking great care to put the note in a safe place with all your other files concerning that. You wished you could remember a time you weren't worried about being ambushed by them. You missed feeling safe. You had to get some help.

You went to the police station that night, dressed in your hero garb. You sent a quick text to Naomasa, had all the files you were able to collect over the years when you kept being found and had them stuffed in a bag. You were really tired of moving as a civilian, you wanted to settle down. You wanted to enjoy your life and go out. This was going to stop. Whether they wanted it to or not.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

He said he'd leave you alone but honestly you were just too interesting to let go of. You had your entire life shrouded in mystery. Even the Hero Committee barely had information on you. Just that you were collected as a child by All Might and Sir Nighteye from some dangerous living arrangement and preferred to live a life as a civilian after you reached that age. But obviously you didn't do that. How you'd managed to convince them of that was shocking. Why he didn't tell them the truth was even more shocking. Now he was watching you, dressed in your hero outfit walking to the police station that that one detective worked at. What was his quirk again? Ah yes, True Man worked here didn't he? He couldn't just walk in without a reason though, Hawks didn't patrol in this area. Certainly not at night either. Spotlight hero and all. Why were you here? Then he got a call from the Hero Committee.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

"I'm not some civilian Naomasa! I can defend myself!" You yelled.

"We weren't saying that you can't handle yourself y/n. But they got bold with this. They found out where you lived in no time." He said, you sighed. This was going to be stressful. Interacting with the Hero Committee was always stressful, having to interact with them because All Might literally can't help you right now and it sucked. "We already contacted them anyways. We had to follow procedure since you still live here and they were connected to the original case." He moved closer to you. "I'm sorry… that it's like this. But we'll catch them this time." You wanted to believe it, you really hoped it was going to be true this time. You made sure you were dressed in your hero garb when you left, you patrolled your area quickly, and then you went back to what was supposed to be your safe haven, if it could ever be that again.

Naomasa called you the next day when he knew for a fact you'd be awake. You had to go to the Hero Committee today, and they'd let one of their heros go to protect you. You tried to not let that affect you. You weren't a regular civilian, but you also weren't a known hero for the committee. Unfortunate really, but you didn't want there to be any connection between your two lifestyles. You'd seen first hand how quickly it would quite literally fuck everything up for you. It was why you mainly fought without your quirk, and endured the insulting jabs. The less the connection there was the better.

When you walked in the Hero Committee building, you wanted to scream. You wanted to leave and run away. That wasn't who you were though. You were strong, you were a hero. You felt terribly small when off duty though. Like you were that small child All Might and Nighteye saved years ago. But you stayed, you followed them to a quiet room and sat down at the table. You waited until they told you what was going to be done.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Hawks had to meet with the Hero Committee today. Something about them choosing a protection detail for a witness. He'd rather not do this when you were in danger. Rude yeah, especially since this was an actual civilian and not a coworker. But seeing you get that shaken by a case, when he knew for a fact you'd seen and heard much worse so in his opinion it was not a good sign. But then he saw you, sitting at table for their conference looking so lost. "What?" He thought. But your head jerked up in response, eyes wide. Oh, he said it aloud. "Hey sweetheart."

"Please do not tell me they chose you for this." You said, looking back down.

"They haven't chosen anyone as far as I know." He responded, watching how your shoulders seemed to slump in relief. Ouch that hurt. "I didn't know you'd be the civilian." He said quietly, watching how you'd respond. You scowled at him. God you were so pretty when you were angry. It was nice to be able to put a face behind all those exchanges you two had.

"Hawks I swear to fucking god-" you began but you were immediately cut off from continuing with two pro-heros walking in. Along with the head of the board.

"Y/n! Its good to see you again!" He said, smirking at you. Your scowl was momentarily forgotten but Hawks could see the contempt in your eyes.

"S'not very good for me to be seeing you." You said, not even flinching at the scathing looks you were given by the other heros that walked in the room. You were definitely pissed then. Hawks let out a low whistle.

"Why would she be happy seeing us? We're here to discuss a protection detail for a civilian. A civilian who's been through this before." Hawks said calmly. He could bluff his way for more information on you during this. You had a blank look on your face before you turned to look at him, but now that you were you looked the way you felt at that moment.

"Shut the fuck up Hawks." You snarled out.

"We are here to talk about your protection detail. But if you cannot conduct yourself in an appropriate manner you will be escorted from the room while we make our decision." A voice rang out, the two other heros you didn't know were shocked, you were still obviously pissed and it was not going to be acknowledged by the hero committee, like always they would dismiss whatever you would request. It was why they didn't know you were a hero. Then it hit you. Hawks knew you were a hero. Hawks followed orders from the hero committee. Hawks could tell them. Your face paled a bit, startling the others. The head of the committee smirked thinking he intimidated you, the two other heros looked mildly uncomfortable and Hawks had his little revelation that you thought that he told them about what you do. "Since you've acted like a child time and time again, why don't you leave the room and let us handle this." The head said, breaking you out of your trance.

"Call Sir Nighteye." You said, you refused to move from where you were sitting. "I'm not joking. You're going to call Nighteye and fucking talk to him. I'm not going to be treated like a child who just discovered they have a 'scary' quirk."

The committee decided to call Nighteye and when he walked in your shoulders slumped in relief. He quickly pulled you aside and had a heated discussion before he even spoke to the head of the committee, there wasn't a sign of any conflict between you two either. Although only Hawks would know about any indication of that between you two. You walked out and Nighteye finally spoke to the head. Hawks was going to be the one to watch you, and Nighteye made sure there could be no argument against it. He was the number 2 pro-hero, he could handle it and he was the fastest one they had. He was going to be protecting you. All Hawks could think was that he didn't expect to be able to find out what happened to you like this.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Tag list: @onyxiana-is-obsessed, @neon-tries-writing, @shiggi-trash, @jqnposts, @notmykirk, @crackhead1-800, @sinclairsamess, @takmikig, @ewok-things

#bnha #hawks x reader #reader may be a little traumatized but itll be all good bcs our fav bird is there to help

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friendlifyre · 4 years

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story time bc i got a little emotional getting to this point

ive loved zelda for as long as i can remember, from watching my brother play OoT when i was just 2yo. breath of the wild (then known as zelda u) was first showcased in the e3 of 2014 aka a couple of weeks after i graduated high school, and even with prom turning out so much better than i thought, it was the highlight of my summer. this short 2 minutes of link galloping a non-epona horse through a gorgeous field while fleeing a guardian became my lifeforce. back then the game was planned for 2015 and i was hyped beyond imagining for it.

i digress. the point is, i was looking forward to it. then it was delayed two years. when it came out, i couldnt buy it.

i’ll spare the details of my situation back then; long story short, the previous january, i spent hundreds i didnt have to fly out and visit someone very important to me, who then broke my heart a few days after i got back home and had to face reality. basically, it was Bad, financially but also mentally and emotionally. not getting to play this game when it finally came out because i’d splurged on visiting someone who betrayed my trust as soon as i was gone was a lot of salt in the wound.

i wasn’t completely unlucky, though. i had two incredible friends who cared a lot about me. a lot more than i deserved, admittedly, considering how i’d been treating them in recent months. though i tried my best not to burden them with my problems, they could tell i was not doing well, and in an attempt to cheer me up, and despite neither of them being very financially comfortable, they pitched in to buy me the game on wii u between the two of them. this gesture, along with the game itself, probably saved my life at the time.

i’ll always remember the first couple of days i had it in hand. my parents were gone on a vacation and my brother to his girlfriend’s for the weekend, so i got to shamelessly stay up playing it until 7am, only stopping to get a couple hours of sleep, get my short weekly shift over with and being back at it without restraint. i got to do so while chatting with our small discord friend group, two of us being in the midst of playing for the first time while three other had experienced it since launch.

i made a beeline for sidon, i wont lie. the zora have been my favorite since majoras mask and it was so rare that wed get a main zora character that wasnt a princess crushing on link. me and my friend group were already talking about botw rp/AUs, and i knew sidon would be my muse and i wanted to get to know him asap.

thet only thing that distracted me from that goal was this little guy. this pony i spotted all the way from the plateau, right outside the magnesis shrine. im an equestrian so the horses were obviously a part of the game i was also really looking forward to, but this pony really appealed to me in a way i never managed to explain to my friends. i didnt pay attention to anything the king said because i knew what i was gonna do the second i was gonna get off the plateau.

i spent all of the few stamina food i’d managed to cook with those measly plateau stamella shrooms getting this guy. i could tell he was upset with me trying to tame him so i’d keep trying to get off, grab apples and feed him, except he’d always start walking off immediately as i got off and i’d panic and get back on.

the sun set, the keese swarms spawned. i was completely lost as to where i should go, whether stables or story-wise. anxious beyond belief because not only did it feel like my pony was gonna buck me off any second but also because i confused the night riding music for guardian spots you music.

i begged my friends to give me directions as to where i could find a place to register this guy. just follow the road, they said, one will show up. the road seems to be leading to the castle, i said. follow the road the other way, they said. after a major heartrate spike from spotting a stalker over the hill near riverside stables, i managed to get him there. with not a rupee to my name. with my friend’s recommendation to look for beedle, i left him in one of the pens shoring the river, hoping i could sell some things before he made his grand escape.

finally i managed to register him. i called him trickster, for all the trouble he put me through. he’s the one i fought dark beast ganon with. he’s never stopped being my favorite horse i ever caught, and, in a way, the token of my finally embarking on the grand adventure that is this game once and for all.

with me saving up to afford the switch a few months later, i hadn’t gotten to see trickster in a very long time until today. but after struggling with setting up all my new hardware, i was able to dump my wii u save file on an emulator, which means now i can see trickster right here on my computer whenever i want. and he looks great !

thanks for the adventure, buddy.

#personal #botw

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heartau · 5 years

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Oooh you went to Neocity right? I’d love to hear descriptions of the boys in the words of a writer 🥰

omg this sounds fun !!! ok before i start this i just wanna say this is from what i personally saw when i saw them live. i was relatively close to the stage, enough to make eye contact and to be waved at, so i’ll do my best!!

taeyong: seeing him in real life was a little surreal because he looks exactly how he does in pictures and videos which is already jarring because he’s already really beautiful through those. he has really big, expressive eyes and the warmest smile; every time he would look at the audience he’d have this small smile that looked like pride. it was really really heartwarming to see. he has such a calming, relaxed and cute aura durings ments but once he started to perform... whew! his head also really big, honestly a lot of their heads were really big in real life which is adorable idjdjddk, but yeah!! i made eye contact with him a number of times and you would think his gaze would be intimidating but it really really wasnt! the only word i can describe the feeling i got from him is motherly :(

johnny: first and foremost, i do not believe that he’s 6’1... that man is gigantic. his proportions are so good, his leg to chest ratio is so... [chef’s kiss]. what you see of him in videos is truly what he is in real life, he’s so goofy and funny and lively and he always encouraged other members to do their thing as well. he’s honestly so hilarious too which makes me sad because it makes me feel like we’d get along really well if i knew him personally ... man i just wanna be his bff. but yeah he’s really tall, like towering over the other members tall; even taller than jungwoo, who was surprisingly tall as well. maybe it’s just me because i’m really short. he also has a small face in real life, but at the same time his features are so expressive that you dont even realize it haha. but yeah he’s just a happy, talented, gentle giant.

jungwoo: if i could describe jungwoo in one word it would be cherub-like. he literally has the softest features ever and he moves so gracefully, he literally glowed on stage and it was kinda shocking really. he was also really tall omg, like i was expecting it anyways since i knew that he’s around 6ft, but like... he’s REALLY tall. he has the SOFTEST, most honey-like voice but he speaks with so much confidence, it’s so so so cute and made me so happy. he also has really fluffy hair, like even from my seat i could see how soft and light his hair was; every movement he made that night just made his hair whip around really easily, like even if it was bleached you really couldn’t tell because his hair didn’t look fried at all. all in all jungwoo was truly angel-like and very graceful.

taeil: oh man taeil is beautiful on screen and through pictures already but in person he glows 100x more. he has really, really pretty skin that made him shine under the spotlight and his jawline is REALLY sharp omg. he’s also really short (which i was expecting... probably still taller than me though) and has a big head hehe. he’s also one of the members that had a really calming, nurturing energy, during the ments he would literally have heart eyes full of pride when he’d look at the audience, it was really really heartwarming. a GOOD butt. also his vocals are so, so, sooo good and very stable - there was one point (i think it was back 2 u(?) i can’t remember anything from that night other than my videos) where he used his headvoice for the highnote and not falsetto and it floored me - i’m a classically trained vocalist so you bet i freaked out in the audience. but yeah, taeil is just really calming and nurturing and REALLY funny too :(

yuta: yuta honestly shocked me because although i knew that he’s baby from interviews and other clips, i was still somehow intimidated by him, but when i saw them live he really stomped on my intimidation. he literally has the most fresh, most positive, most genuinely kind energy i’ve literally ever felt :( he had the biggest smile throughout the night, every time i’d look at him he’d just be grinning from ear to ear. “healing smile” doesn’t even come close to describing how GOOD his smile is in real life. he’s also short, something i really wasn’t expecting, like a good 2nd or 3rd shortest - really really REALLY funny too and a REALLY good dancer, i got some of his freestyle dance on camera and every time i watch it, i’m floored bc he hits every beat on the spot. i made eye contact with him at one point and i remember feeling just so happy and at peace, like... he’s not intimidating at all... he’s just a happy boy :(

mark: ohh mark... i see mark as a childhood friend so when he came out on stage i literally felt tears spring in my eyes. i live in vancouver and saw them in vancouver so i feel like that kinda intensified it a bit more as well. he is SOOOOOO undeniably funny its crazy, throughout the night i’d just be laughing at things he’d say (that were intended to be humourous ofc). his head also really big omg it was kinda jarring, and taller than i expected. his stage presence is so good, everytime they’d perform my eyes would sometimes land on him, literally SO good. honestly, when i walked into that venue i was expecting him to cry which i feared for because when someone cries, then i cry, but he didn’t!! although after the concert ended, when they were saying their goodbyes, they left mark alone to say his own goodbyes and when he was doing so, his voice kinda cracked before he did this bow and his eyes were a little glossy and i got SO SCARED because i didn’t wanna cry rkdndkdndk but yeah :( im proud of mark and you can tell that he holds pride in what he does as well!

donghyuck: MAN... donghyuck literally has the most beautiful skin i’ve ever seen. i know i’ve said this before but he glows, like he literally glows, fullsun is an appropriate nickname for him. he emitted nothing else but cute, happy, mischeviohs energy during ments but once he started performing his vibe changed so drastically it was crazy - especially during wake up and baby don’t like it. there was one part during baby don’t like it when he pressed his forehead against taeil’s and when i tell you how much i lost it because i wasn’t expecting it... oh man. i also see donghyuck as a best friend; i was born a week before he was and our natal charts are exactly the same save for our moons, so seeing him rip it up on stage was so so soo good it made me so proud :( i made eye contact with him somewhere during summer 127?? I WAS SO HAPPY AFTER like it was refreshing omg i sound so silly but im telling the truth iddndkjd he’s also shockingly tall as well, around mark’s height, maybe even taller, and REALLY long legs. like a good 90% of his body was made of leg didjdjdjd but yeah donghyuck is just... he’s really the sun and he was meant to perform.

doyoung: i will start this off by saying; i left that venue as a doyoungzen. doyoung... whew... he also shocked me because through videos and pictures i was NEVER intimidated by him at all, i honestly genuinely always just saw him as cute baby but man oh man. you know when you just KNOW that someone’s rich by the way they hold themselves? that’s doyoung... he’s really regal-like and holds himself really gracefully, like a strict prince type. he intimidated me SO much that night (in the best way possible... sexy intimidation... dont worry) like his energy was just so... intense. i made eye contact with him a number of times and when i tell you how SMALL i felt just from meeting his eyes... my goodness. he has really broad shoulders and a tiny waist, also really tall, small-ish head. his features are REALLY sharp like it’s crazy, i really have no other way to explain it. he also has really pretty hands, nimble-looking fingers. he was really adorable during ments and at one point kept hopping which was so CUTE but even then... man. his energy is just really intense. i ended up making him one of my ults after i left the venue.

jaehyun: deep inhale... so. jaehyun. honestly its kinda silly because i can remember so many details from the other members but i feel like once it comes to jaehyun i’m at a loss of words because of how in SHOCK i was to see him up close bc as you all know he’s my ultimate bias, it was my three years with him a few weeks ago. but gosh... jaehyun... i really can’t see the whole “cold prince” image they give him bc he’s so chill and relaxed? ok wow a few memories are coming to mind now; he has a really big head, which i was expecting because i’ve seen people talk about how big his head is but yeah it’s big but it’s CUTE he’s just a little bobblehead :( i made so much eye contact with him that night too and god like. i got some of those moments on camera and you can see through the videos how i’d just FREEZE every time we jefkenfkd he’s just... really chill, really relaxed, let the other members do their thing, but at the same time really silly and had this aura of confidence which was really nice. a lil shorter than i expected omg but his skin was reeallllyyyy nice and he’s very pale irl omg. he waved at me and my friend at the end of the show and i also got it on video and like... every time i watch it its just so surreal cuz like ... 😭 LIKE WHAT NOW how am i supposed to live the rest of my life now knowing i reached my peak at neocity like .... bruh

all in all these boys are just so talented and have the best stage presence ever, and they’re super SUPER interactive with the fans. beingin the crowd during touch and replay was just so... nice :( it was truly one of the happiest moments in my life and i hope that they come back soon !!! i also hope that the next time i see them, winwin is part of 127 again as well :( and lastly, i also hope that whoever is reading this sees them in the future as well bc u deserve it!!!

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duckyaltalt · 4 years

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「herman tommeraas & cis male」⇾ mercer, ducky, the junior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 21 years old. he is studying business, living in gorham and can be tenderhearted, nimble, compliant & taciturn. when i see him i am reminded of fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown . ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hi :D this is the last of my OG characters ... the next two will b sexy n new bt they wont arrive fr a while bc i <3 need 2 hv a steady pace <3 anyways hes. rly sad so. good luck charlie <3 okay bye :D

TW CHILD ABUSE / DOMESTIC ABUSE / ABUSE, VIOLENCE, INJURY, TRAUMA, MENTAL ILLNESS, DRUGS / DRUG ABUSE / ADDICTION , GANGS.

aesthetic.

bruises; from beneath your eyes to the edge of your jaw, aligned against your stomach and the sides of your waist and the groves of your knuckles. bleeding noses and bleeding gums, spat out teeth, tattoos scarred from improper treatment, a facial scar; jagged and old, now, from above your eye to beneath your lip. worn hoodies and scuffed sneakers, sunglasses inside. the night sky, and it’s many stars, and how brightly they shone during the 2019 blackout, and wanting to be up there, with them. knowing constellations by heart. wishing to be the face on the moon. beer bottles and secret exchanges. dark alleys. fear, through the very core of your heart. fear, hidden behind a stoic stare.

basic info.

full name: donovan mercer

nickname(s): ducky but i’m 95% sure he hates the nickname it’s just. Stuck with him.

b.o.d. - march 15th, pisces :)

label(s): the allegiant, the despondent, the grifter, the malleable, the vacant, etc.

height: 5′11″

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york

sexuality: bisexual bt make it closeted.

stats

inspired by: lip gallagher (shameless), freddie mcclair (skins), frankenstein’s monster (frankenstein), fez (euphoria) … that’s it i don’t know any other characters KJNSGLDNVLSDJNFDS

biography.

you can correctly assume that they grew up in a heavily abusive environment, and can imagine the sort of things the two have gone through. ducky was, maybe, the least favorite of their father’s -

- for numerous reasons, and one being that ducky’d always been a sensitive kid. kinder than his brother, and far kinder than his father - kindness is weakness, and ducky was filled with it. too much so, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice. should’ve - but didn’t. and never did, either.

but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be.

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. his grades fluctuated frequently, and it’s a surprise that he hadn’t dropped out of high school altogether.

anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip, the entire left side of his face a bloody mess afterwards. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly. corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

graduated high school and had been on-and-off attending community college since then. he’d miss days at a time, flunk an entire semester’s worth of classes - gpa dropped further and further. wanted to try, but life got in the way. always got in the way.

hadn’t intended on transferring to radcliffe, but their father’d been missing for a few months then, leaving ducky to handle the drugs side of their business in hell’s kitchen - and mercy’d disappeared, too, leaving their branch in lovell completely open. in a split decision - an opportunity, and opening - something he couldn’t miss, or he’d maybe never get the opportunity again, ducky bullshitted a scholarship essay (plagiarism, tsk) and transferred to pick up where mercy’d left.

this wasn’t very well thought out, because that meant there were no mercers in new york - and lars amaretto? not a very understanding man. more of a brute than their father was, by far. to keep a story short - ducky is missing a tooth (molar, luckily, this time) and is … more rough’d up than he’d like to be, for sure. but mercy’s back, now, and he’s still at lovell, at radcliffe.

and that’s enough.

UPDATE: heehaw. mercy is gone & ducky’s still here. feeling a bit lost - dealt with a lot of shit this summer, new wounds and old wounds and just. a lot. started an underground fight club on campus for some extra cash, reasons unknown. being blackmailed by someone named rocky - someone who knows ducky is skimming cash. god. i don’t know ... danger danger danger danger. nightmare-ville. wrapped up in more walls than ever.

personality.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be harder - and his hits will be, too. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures, occasionally, or physics - or anything that isn’t business, because he hates his major, but he knows it’s the only chance he’s got to stay at radcliffe. and that’s to follow his brother, to follow his father. a business degree treats you well, teaches you skills you’ll need to know for this type of work.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs, only to leave it in the gorham community fridge with no name, something for somebody who may need it. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing, the result of years of abuse. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy. his room is messy, but still oddly barren. nothing on the walls except for a poster or two, sheets a standard navy blue and a row of empty liquor bottles on his windowsill.

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it. it’s his first semester at radcliffe.

uuuhhh. god. okay so ducky’s got an addiction to xanax. it’s numbing and it’s better than feeling, and he’d rather this than that and it’s. a Thing. we won’t go further into it. besides that - he does smoke weed, does try out some of their products to make sure it’s not … fucked, for their clients, but otherwise fucking hates drugs. social drinker, but still doesn’t like it a lot. hates beer but drinks it often.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted connections.

clients… first n foremost. he needs people to deal to. i don’t think he handles the Hard Shit like mercy does, but like coke and mdma? works for him.

f…riend..s?… like it’s so hard for ducky to be sincere with people but if you don’t mind like … an emotionally distant man who doesn’t even hit 6′ then maybe? he’s your guy? maybe you can break him down a little? chip away at his cold shoulder?

a close…r friend… maybe not like. the best of friends. but at least one normal friend whose world does not revolve around fucking drugs and violence would be nice for ducky. someone he can be a little soft with, as a treat.

hook-ups… not many, because ducky doesn’t really enjoy sex too much but y’know. that’s just how it is. he do be having needs, tho. KDSJGSHDKLFSE god.

fisticuffs!… someone he got into a fistfight with. multiple people he’s gotten into fights with. he’s probably lost them (on purpose) but - mayhaps, some of them, he did not?

gorham roommate… god… i don’t know what these two cld get up to but! maybe give him a sexuality panic but who knows.

unrequited feelings… there’s probably a few of these. whether people are drawn to his fucking ~mysterious~ demeanor (he just has fucking anxiety, man) or mayhaps. mayhaps he has the feelings.

flirtations… he’s never been in a relationship so i can’t really include exes, but he can flirt with people i’d like to think … when he’s drunk. :-)

ghostees… everybody he’s ever fucking ghosted because he’s stupid and is afraid of both friendship and relationships and romance and platonic? feelings of warmth? so sometimes he panics and ghosts people forever. :) spite!

new yorkians… who are familiar with his family or the business they have there

enemies… god. i’m sure he has a lot of these even without attempting to make them. just like, by association, you know? sometimes ducky hates people because mercy does. sometimes he hates people because mercy likes them. JKSDGDSJGFSNLKF

i won’t lie i’m very tired and am having a Troubled Time coming up with connections please. bare with me.

annoyances… i don’t know if ducky can get annoyed very easily but? thorns in his side? something lighthearted? alternately, something Not lighthearted and then ducky :/ goes rogue JKDNGDSNLFK

idk something soft… literally anything soft. please :) give me something soft and cute :) and peaceful and not stressful :)

something ANGSTY and AWFUL… literally. i don’t know. duality of man.

ok i have been awake fr too long i’m going to bed goodnight.

#ruhqintro #child abuse tw #domestic violence tw #abuse tw #violence tw #injury tw #drugs tw #trauma tw #addiction tw #drug abuse tw #gangs tw

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angelicspaceprince · 4 years

Text

Photographs

Author: Ama

Title: Photographs

Pairing: Established Beetlejuice/Reader, friends Beetlejuice and Lydia

Character/s: Beetlejuice, Lydia.

Word Count: 1, 814 words

Warnings: Mentions of yellow fever and death, possible historical inaccuracies, Beetleboi being a sad boi.

Tags: @justballoonfishthings, @beetlejuicecansteponme, @yankyo, @beetlebitchywitch, @scribblepigeon, @trelaney, @kyuubinu, @imma-fucking-nerd (some I tagged bc I wanted you to suffer with me, others bc I’ve been ranting about this to you guys all morning, enjoy!)

Summary: Lydia finds a box at Beetlejuice’s house, not realising that what it contains is an emotional subject for her friend. He goes through each item in the box and explains the history of the person the images are centered around.

Notes: Two fics within hours of each other? What magic is this? Also, I hit you with cuteness, and now I hit you with sad. Suffer.

So, I’ve fallen in love with a song that Alex Brightman sings from the 35mm musical called Cut You A Piece and it gives me tears every time I hear it so here. Have a fic loosely based on it.

Basically, the Beetlejuice I’m using is Musical!Juice but stuff like Lydia visiting his house in the Netherworld is more from the cartoon. You were alive in the 1850s. There are mentions of yellow fever and death in this fic. It’s pretty sad, if people want a happy ending hmu and I’ll try and scrounge something together. I also based the hair colours off dreammbc’s mood ring hair headcanons found here. Takes place after the musical, Beej disappeared for about a year before returning to hang out with his best friends and everyone in the Deetz house are fine with him sue me I want a happy family ending. Female reader, soz all. Enjoy!

Buy Me a Coffee

Photographs

Beetlejuice hadn’t thought of you in the better part of sixty years. Possibly longer. It was too hard to think about you and what happened. He didn’t like crying or feeling broken, but after everything that happened? He just broke down whenever he thought of you.

So, when Lydia brought up the box in the living room that remained firmly shut, the sudden onset of emotions that attacked him was enough for Lydia to decide to get out.

He was never good with emotions.

It took a couple of days before he calmed down, his hair slowly having blue and yellow slowly streaking into it compared to the pitch black it had been since Lydia brought up the box. It took another day for him to sheepishly return to the Deetz’s to apologise, box in hand.

He apologised for scaring her (he didn’t) and that he just needed his space (she knows) but if she really wanted to know what was in the box, he could show her now.

The curious teen tentatively took the box from him and opened it up. Inside were a few, old looking photos of a woman dressed in what appears to be just an everyday dress from the mid 1800’s and a very clean looking Beetlejuice dressed in similarly aged attire. Both of you were laughing and smiling, holding onto each other, clearly very much in love. Beneath all five of the photos was what clearly used to be a pressed rose, although it looked a little beyond dead at this point, and two silver rings, one larger than the other. Lydia carefully held each object as Beetlejuice looks down at them next to her, clearly in another world as he just watches her go over every single item. “Who was she?” She finally asks, pointing to the woman in the picture.

“Y/N.” He breaths out, a small smile appearing on his lips as he takes the photo, the last one the two of you took together before-. “She was my fiancé.” He explains softly as he thumbs over your laughing face at whatever bad joke, he had told you right before the photo was taken. “Well, nearly.” Lydia looks over at the photos again, it’s clear in every single one Beetlejuice is absolutely smitten. She turns over the top photo in the pile on her lap, in green ink and swirled writing she makes out the caption. ‘June 6th, 1852. Beetlejuice and Y/N, New York. Pretty sure the photographer was over us by the end.’

“How did you meet?” She doesn’t look up from the pile in her lap, continuing to turn over each photo to reach the written message on the back. She didn’t notice the fond smile and his mood ring hair slowly turning to a pastel green.

“Her friends summoned me as a joke.” He starts. “19th century was filled with people who wanted to communicate with the dead, her friends didn’t think that anything would happen but then I showed up and they all booked it. She thought I was hysterical so she kept me around. About a year later, she asked me to court her and so we started dating.” He starts to fidget and fiddle, putting the photo back in the box so he doesn’t ruin it with the anxiety that’s running through his body. The last thing he wants to do is crinkle the photos or, God/Satan forbid, rip it. “We dated for about three years, those photos were for our first anniversary. She didn’t believe in the whole getting married thing, we were already living together and that was enough for her. Bit unconventional for the time, but that was my Y/N.” His smile widens slightly when the happy memories start to wash over him. “Was always there if I needed help scaring someone, always there to bounce ideas. Couldn’t stand the fact that I was filthy all the time, so I took to bathing for her which was a big deal for both of us. She had a higher standard of cleanliness than most people back then. Couldn’t dance to save herself though. Not wearing those dresses, she kept tripping over the skirts.”

Lydia listens to every word, letting Beetlejuice more or less spill his heart out. Neither of them are into heart-to-hearts, but its pretty evident that this time around, its what her friend needs. She listens as he lists off every single thing he loved about her and the things that frustrated him about her, every tiny detail she loved about life and the things she hated, what she loved about him and what caused her to want to beat him with a stick. It was like all of a sudden, he could remember every detail that he had thought he had forgotten, and if he didn’t voice them, they’d be gone. By the end of it, his hair was streaked with faint blue with his pastel green, voice was wobbly, and eyes wear close to shedding tears. Lydia knew that he had to get it out of his system and, even though it made her uncomfortable, she wanted to give him permission to just let it out.

“What happened to her?” Her voice is gentle and encouraging as he clears his throat, not really wanting to tell her how your relationship ended, but needing to nonetheless.

“She died.” He quietly admits. “Yellow fever, there was an outbreak around 1853, 1855. She was one of the last ones to die.” He swallowed before continuing. “I thought something was wrong, but she insisted it was just a cold. She was so hot, couldn’t even stand to hear me walk across the floor to get her something to drink. Couldn’t eat she was so tired, but she was in so much pain she couldn’t sleep. So, she just cried and held on to me to keep her cool.” Beetlejuice closed his eyes, already seeing her face resurfacing in his mind. “It was after three days of pain she started to puke her guts up. Three days after that, she was vomiting blood. Two days after that, she started going yellow. She kept saying that she didn’t want to go to hospital but when she started to go yellow in her eyes and her skin looked like she had been rolling around in the yellow dye vat at her work, I just stood up and carried her there myself.” He swallows. “I should have taken her there sooner, by the time we got her there she was already too close to death. I stayed with her in that hospital, helped her drink whatever little water I could and let her sleep with me keeping her cool. She just continued to go yellow. There was so much blood, Lyds, I never thought a breather could produce so much.” He needs to breath, the smell of the hospital refilling his nose was getting to be too much for him. “Eventually, she just slept. She slept for another week before she died in my arms. And that was the end of that.” He retakes the photo from before and flips it over, in his messy and almost illegible handwriting he reread the words he’d written there over a hundred years ago in the same green ink. ‘Marry me?’ “I should have taken her to the hospital sooner, but I thought she’d know best. She was still a breather, I hadn’t been alive for centuries by that point, I thought perhaps I was overreacting because I was excited. I found out about the clause, if you marry a breather you become one too. I was going to propose to her and explain that we could have an actual relationship together and die together, be a bit more normal. I never got that chance.” In anger, he throws the photo back down as he slams back onto Lydia’s bed. It’s only now that she realises his hair is streaked in almost every colour of the rainbow as conflicting emotions hit him from left, right and centre. She gives him a minute before slowly packing everything away.

“Did you look for her?” She hears him nod against the mattress, his eyes still pressed firmly shut as he tries his best to cry silently.

“Spent nearly a hundred years looking through the Netherworld tryna find her. Spent a bit of time looking up here too. No luck. She’s gone, babes. You will never find what you’re looking for in the Nether, so there’s no point in looking.” He cracks open an eye to look at the box now sitting between him and the goth teen and sighs. “I try not to think of her, it hurts too much. But wherever I go, she comes too.”

Lydia hums. She gets it, to a degree. It hurts every single time she thinks of her mother, how sick she got and how quick she had died. But she still needed to think of her, she’d rather face the pain than forget her mother. And she also knows what it feels like when wherever you go, you feel like you’re carrying that person with you. “Perhaps it’s what you need? It hurts but you still have all your good memories.” He hums, not really agreeing or disagreeing. “It sounds like you cut her a piece of you, and she cut you a piece of her. You carry her now and I think she carries you too, Beej.”

Beetlejuice doesn’t make a sound, but he did hear her. It takes a while for his emotions to slowly simmer down to background noise and once it does, he simply sits up, grabs the box and shuts it away, leaving everything as it was before he opened it. Perhaps one day, he will be able to open the box without hurting and perhaps, one day, he will run into you again. Perhaps it’ll work out for him in the long run. But for now, he’d rather not think about it.

“Let’s go scare your dad kid, I’ve been letting him relax for too long now.” The demon offers as a distraction. Lydia, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t let him get away that easy. But she’s willing to let this one slide as the two of them leave the room to go plot a way to give Charles the fright of his life, leaving the box on the bed unattended, unseen, as it opens, and a sixth photograph appears on top of the pile. Of a very sickly-looking woman sleeping in the arms of a very stressed demon sleeping in a hospital bed surrounded by other sick people. On the back, the words simply say ‘Wherever you go, I’ll go too. I lost my life when I lost you.’ You can wait for him to be ready to find you again, however long it takes.

#ama writes #ama's stuff #tag this as beetleb*bes and I'll cry #Beetlejuice the Musical #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice The Animated Series #Beetlejuice (1988)#Betelgeuse #Beetlejuice headcanons #beetlejuice the musical headcanons #headcanons #betelgeuse headcanons #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #betelgeuse/reader #betelgeuse x reader #beetlejuice x reader headcanons #beetlejuice/reader headcanons

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lrugloyak · 3 years

Text

Ben's uncle (i.e. another dream about a hot demon)

(Hi. If it’s your first time here, you can go HAHA. I’m not sure when I can focus back on my personal musings on here, but generally if you’re staying behind, I hope it’s for the memes. This is just a dream journal entry -- something I’d like to look back and laugh at in the future or, say, show to a therapist when I’ll need one lmao. Happy New Year!)

Like the actor who plays the old version of the lead guy in huling el bimbo; if not taller and darker but still theatre actor, basta real and dark like daveed but pinoy and no facial hair lmao

Ben's uncle drives me to school. Real school. With little Ben. Ben's uncle is wearing a black collared shirt with green double stripes.

I forget to bring socks and topple off the car with just slippers on and shoes in hand. He thinks I'm silly. I think he's hot. I tell myself I'll ask him out soon. I'm in high school.

I'm strangely waiting outside the lobby for class. It's afternoon. I go with Che to the gate bc I'm bored waiting. I trip over a few Christmas balls. When I get up, she's on the other side of the gate on some sort of fine ticking stuff off. I tell myself i can do that and reach for the pen. Ms. Joji is beside che with 2 familiar janitors from sisc. She politely chuckles to herself. I ask her why, and she tells me I'm kind but why care about this now. She touches my hand and carries on. I'm a bit disappointed.

It's nearly evening and i see ben's uncle's car roll around nearby but dismiss it. Bea v has a twin and draws in a small crowd of people as she loudly rants about her time at school, some story about being teased and embarrassed as she was called Bea Duh and V____. It seemed more like a pun that made sense in my dream. They were annoying but i had nothing against then so i just stayed behind the crowd and listened. They seemed like they just wanted people to listen and sympathize but it felt like a clout thing. The people seemed like they didn't like listening either but they were bored and liked being in the crowd. I giggled to myself while she was talking about something i wasn't listening to. All eyes turned to me. She asked if i had something to say. I saw ben's uncle's back from afar as he was rummaging through the back seat. I didn't think he saw me. I mindlessly started with my story about forgetting my shoes that morning and it was embarrassing. But i slipped with the fact that i wanted to ask ben's uncle out. I looked back at the crowd and saw their eyes light up. Someone asked me why. I said because he was hot. They ask laughed. I just said yeah he's hot! The crowd ate it up as i was pretending to be all the rage, making my story funnier and being more loose and confident with the way i moved. I didn't say it out loud, but thoughts of ben's uncle being attractive bc he was thoughtful, funny, kind and attentive were flooding my head. I look back at him and see he's staring right back at me with kind eyes and a wondering smile on his face. I laugh bc I'm having a good time with the crowd and i unknowingly proved a point to bea that you can turn embarrassing stories into good and still be in good company. Ben's uncle is by the gate. His elbow brushes past mine and we lock eyes. I asked if he heard all that. He asks what time my classes started and i realize oh yeah I've been waiting out here a bit alone for a class I'm not sure I'm having. We chuckle at the realization. He is admitted through sisc's electronic gate.

Search for the demon in a village that looks like manuela but with wider roads. Felt like the village in wallace and gromit. Forgot most of this part but it was heart racing and fun; i hate when i forget the adventure parts Couldn't capture the demon but found a book with some inscriptions. Had to go somewhere to find people who could help us. We were to go to a shack that same night.

I arrive with my friend to the shack. We find two guys in a room that looked a lot like lolas room now that i think about it. Guys are sleeping soundly in a bed. He tells me to take a nap first so i take a nap on a space on the right side of the bed, which was disappointing bc i wanted to help look for the demon. I am mostly asleep, but he didn't know i was still partly awake and listening and watching him decipher the book he just found. Guy in the middle wakes up and says demon is in the house, they just haven't found him yet. Informs they need to do a ritual to drive him out. They don't know how the ritual will go. They leave the room already chanting something foreign that doesn't seem to be working. I hear them enter the room beside this. September starts playing. They are chanting i think.

When the verse comes up, i hear one of them say it's not working. It was then when the legs of the guy on the left side of the bed started rising even though he was still asleep. He is wearing a grey tshirt. Hmm lol probs not important. The chorus comes and i hear the guys in the other room say that hey this isn't so bad; it's not working but they're not getting hurt from all the heavy chanting. Left side of the bed guy's arms were now rising too. "I'm not in my body" i hear the being on what looked like lolas computer chair in the shadows say. I understand he was driven out. That guy was ben's uncle. He tells me to go back to sleep. I smile and say no. So it's you, i think. He didn't have to answer. There was a bit of silence as September continued playing and the guys in the other room just sounded like they were dancing at this point.

I ask if he knew I wanted to ask him out when he passed me as he went to pick ben up from inside the school. He said yeah and smiled. I felt no shame. We both laughed. I was getting sleepier. I asked if he was the bad guy. He said yes even though I was hoping more that he'd say no. The info automatically popped in my head: he was called the necromancer. He asked why i asked, and i answered it was because nothing changed and i still wanted to go out with him. He considered it, i can feel it. He asked why, implying why i would want that knowing he's the demon, and i said bc he's hot. We both chuckled. He smiled again. Go to sleep he said, but i wouldn't budge. His human's legs and arms are still up. He won't keep his eyes off me. It seems more sincere. I'm not scared at all. Fuck, he's cute. He realizes he can't convince me. He walked over to my end of the bed and sat by my waist. We stare at each other for a bit and it feels like we've been talking for hours. I ask will you hold my hand and he takes it. His hand feels human. It even feels as nervous as one. I tell him everyone's capable of change. He looks at me with love in his eyes. The sound of September is drowned out by the feeling of time to rest your weary head clouding my senses. I don't want to wake up yet; i want to save him.

I wake up. I think there's been an earthquake.

I bite my lip.

Alright! So this was supposed to be a mind farts thing, which is why some sentences are less...sentence-like than others. Typed this out when I woke up at 5:48am. I was sad that I couldn’t get back to sleep bc I wanted to see Ben’s uncle again HAHAHAHA THE THIRST IS REAL and it’s so weird how I always just referred to him as Ben’s uncle and not??? a name?????

Okay, here are my notes possible factors:

• Gian Magdangal, but here in his role in AHEB and not anywhere else lol

I didn’t even feel the least attracted to him here; I’m not sure why Ben’s uncle took his form and why I was so eager to get in cahoots with him HAHAHAHA SORRY GIAN

• By “real school,” I mean my actual high school -- that part of the entrance was perfect in my head to the last detail. Little Ben, whoever the heck he is, was also wearing the grade school uniform.

• The last I’ve heard from Che was from an instagram post for the holidays. I’m not sure why she got in here.

• For the life of me, I don’t know what Ms. Joji and my school janitors represented. Maybe it’s my late feeling of detachment from being coined as a nice person. I can’t promise I’ll write about that here.

• I don’t know why Bea V is here either huhu. Despite what it seems like, I hold no grudges (or any real personal connection) to her, at least to my knowledge

• The action sequence in Manuela probably comes from how I’ve been going there often for the holidays and truly wanted to stay longer that I did.

• September??? My dad’s been playing songs of that era when his friends came around and when he’d have the hand at the Manuela get-togethers.

• The thirst? Yeah it comes with all the dreams now, it seems. Haha. Remember Suit Guy from the other dream? I’m convinced they’re the same character. After my closure with a real boy last month, I reverted back to talking to Angel. I don’t expect you to know who he is as I’ve never mentioned him officially in writing. It’s not like anyone’s going to read this anyway until I’m dead, but Angel’s been my imaginary friend for years. I’m not sure for how long, but perhaps it was since fallen angel tropes took over YA fiction (say, my 5th grade years?) or since I got into Supernatural. It comforts me to have a hot imaginary friend I can banter and actually fight with to talk to. I guess my fixation on tall mysterious guys (and after watching Daddy Long Legs din pala last night) just played into my metaphorical love for Angel.

#kylle #january2021 #dreams were all i ever knew

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heyhyunjiin · 5 years

Text

hyunchan ➳ fallenangel!au

Warnings: none

Genre: angst

Pairing: hyunchan x gender neutral reader

A/N: hello!! this will contain multiple parts & WILL have romance so be prepared, hehe. this was inspired by the supernatural tv series. I ALWAYS APPRECIATE FEEDBACK!!!

it’s been a decade since I’ve posted an au hAH

so please enjoy!

In heaven, the main purpose of this particular rank of angels is to guide and protect humans through their everyday lives and they consistently report to their superiors who’re in charge of maintaining the influx of souls.

This makes each human have two angels!

aaaand you’ve been blessed with having hyunjin and chan as your designated feather boi’s ଘ( ♡ᗜ♡)

chan and hyunjin are in the protection division and were quite frankly the best in their league! all of their humans have been well guarded till their time ended. They almost never leave their person unattended because hey! If something happened to you, it’d be on them & neither could live out his eternal lifespan knowing that he foolishly let you get hurt. The only time they HAD to go is if their superior demands a word… even till then, these boys would stall as much time possible. The longer they’re away from you, the more prone you are to an untimely death & that would make them a horrible angel.

It all started when the superior was once again, hollering in their ear for a brief summary of the progress and ordered to be met with in the park downtown.

It was chan’s turn to meet up & he asked hyunjin to be extra careful with you in his absense, only to be waved away by the younger angel, saying something along the lines of you scrolling on your phone won’t bring any danger other than radiation probably.

Chan rolled his eyes and left as fast as possible so he could return soon because indeed, one angel was strong as heck but hyunjin couldn’t defend you completely from other beings trying to interfere with your fate. (⚆_⚆)

*cough cough: demons, fairies, etc.*

Chan swooshed from behind a massive oak tree, catching sight of his superior immediately, seated on a bench with his finger impatiently tapping his knee. A small, 5’0 blonde man with icy blue eyes wearing a daunting scowl that never seemed to leave his porcelain complexioned face.

“Hello, brother.” Chan greeted the elder angel with respect.

“Details. Now,” ordered Dongmin, the feather boi’s superior older brother. ( •̀ω•́ )σ

Chan chuckled and said, “Always so eager for stats, huh?”

His brother clenched his fist and barked, “I have others to check up on, y’know! Mind not wasting my time with your jokes?”

chan just couldn’t help but giggle further at the angry face of dongmin. It was just so hard to take him seriously with his lil angry face.

but nevertheless, chan gave his report of how your life is going, the numerous times your stupid decisions might’ve caused some serious consequences but hyunjin saved you, & all the possibilities you could’ve died but chan was always there, keeping you safe!! ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

dongmin jotted all of it down in his log book & as soon as he shut the leatherbound journal, chan whisked it out of his grasp and flipped to random pages, commenting about how nice the handwriting was.

dongmin was nearly losing his head, jumping for the book and shouting at how chan can’t read other angels’ report bc it was a violation of the heavenly act #34, section 23, on page 489. mans is rlly detailed…

（¬＿¬)

chan easily towered over him and held the journal high above min’s head while teasing.

once he saw how close to tears the older angel was, he handed the book back again.

“cheer up, donkey! don’t be so uptight all the time.” chan said as he watched dongmin dust off the book with a handkerchief as he muttered to himself.

“i told you not to call me that!” he huffed.

“go back to your human!!! we’re done here.” dongmin added while waving chan away.

chan laughed one more time, and sauntered to the oak tree, just about ready to swoosh back to your apartment when he heard min talking to another angel, his fellow superior sister, who arrived just as chan got behind the tree so either angel couldn’t see him still there.

subin was her name and she was just as uptight as dongmin was, but wasn’t as expressive about her ideas.

she sat calmly on the bench, staring in the direction of some children playing on the swing while speaking, “the numbers aren’t sufficient, dongmin.”

the smoll angel plopped beside her, that ever-so-famous scowl plastered on his face once more. “i know. not enough humans are dying.” he said.

subin’s hazel eyes drifted to meet the blue ones of dongmin. “is the plan going accordingly?”

a satisfied grin creeped its way to the male’s face as he nodded slightly. “yes. i’ve convinced alot of angels who’ve agreed to let their humans get in harm’s way so their souls may go to our home, increasing our divine power.”

HOLD THE PHONE.

WHAT (๑･`▱´･๑)

chan was extremely surprised by what was said. was dongmin being serious?!

brief background info: human souls are like ounces of fuel. they’re a power source for all sorts of beings, which is why it’s so important to collect as many as possible in order to maintain strength and authority. the angels and demons have been going at these humans for so long, accumulating more and more power for their respective groups. but, as of recent milleniums, the demons were getting more juice than the angels bc people weren’t dying fast enough but they sure were sinning! (`･ヘ´･ ) so the angels are playing dirty by letting their people die early so they don’t sin enough and in return, the angels get their fix.

subin softly smiled and replied, “good. but, how about chan and hyunjin? they’re the best protectors according to the data, and with them in the same boat as us, we’d be unstoppable.”

min felt his fists tighten, remembering the teasing of his tall sibling.

“they’re oblivious to the plan for now and i think it’ll be hard to convince them but we’ll find a way.”

the two superiors vanished with a swoosh & chan was left flabberghasted behind the oak tree.

hyunjin ofc reacted in the same manner once chan told him all about the meeting.

they knew that the whole plan was wicked & everyone couldn’t possibly be on board with it right? they had to do something about it! ( •̀ω•́ )σ

the duo waited till you were fast asleep when they used their abilities to send an urgent message to hyeonjeong, one of the eldest angels known of creation. he had bigger authority over any angel that they knew of. they knew he’d never submit to such a cruel method & could do something to stop subin & dongmin from causing further damage to the lives of billions of people.

all seemed to be working well and they shortly received a reply from an angel that gave a location to meet at.

when they swooshed, both boys showed up to an abandoned warehouse that was muddy and rundown.

they looked around for any sight of hyeonjeong- his long silver hair, white suit, or even his colossal sized wings, but nada.

“greetings, brothers.” they heard a familiar voice from behind.

it was hyunwoo. a sketchy mf

behind him emerged two more others, armed with angel-killing blades.

chan and hyunjin were now in defensive mode bc not many things could kill an angel but those blades could literally do the job in one stab.

“where’s hyeonjeong?” chan asked with gritted teeth, eyeing the closest enemy angel.

hyunwoo clapped his hands together as he answered, “he’s on a mission elsewhere… but, don’t worry! i caught your message & was ordered to deliver you upstairs. with force, if necessary.” he seemed a little eager at the last bit.

hyunjin wasted not a second longer, and punched the angel closest to him, managing to steal the blade, and jabbing it straight through the chest.

chan was able to take down the other angel, but he felt a sharp tip pressed against his shoulder blade.

looks like hyunwoo brought his own weapon.

he shouted to hyunjin, “what a pity! i sort of liked those two,” he nodded his head at the corpse of the dead angels. “but, enough games for today. let’s go before i get bored.”

in one snap, chan & hyunjin were bound and sat in a conference room. they knew they were in heaven with the numerous clouds that fluttered past the windows. dongmin, subin, hyunwoo, and a handful of other angels surrounded them.

“hi, dearest brothers.” subin greeted them peacefully with her hands folded on the table.

“w-what is this?” hyunjin questioned, eyes scanning the upset crowd of their siblings, all wielding a blade in each hand.

dongmin piped up, “oh, you don’t see it as we do? it’s a small get-together between brothers and sisters. a small, friendly chat.”

hyunwoo looked so ready to stab someone istg

chan wasn’t buying this a single bit.

two simple words left subin’s lips.

“join us.”

“whatever you’re doing, we’re not taking part in any of it!” chan stated loudly.

seemed like subin’s peaceful demeanor was vanishing little by little.

“and why not? don’t you like being powerful?” she questioned aggressively.

“being admired?” dongmin added with a small smirk.

“being the authority,” hyunwoo smugly smiled.

hyunjin furiously shook his head in decline. “Unlike you, we like doing our jobs the honest, noble way.”

“oh, c’mon! they’re just humans! in case you’ve forgotten, dad’s been popping them out for milleniums & you’re getting soft now? they won’t even know who you are once they’ve died!” hyunwoo hollered.

silence.

subin sighed and nodded to dongmin, whose eyes lit up like a christmas tree. “we tried to give them a chance. do it.”

chan felt his heart skip beats once he saw dongmin approaching them with a strange vase, sprinkling its powdery contents on him and hyunjin while the other angels chanted some sort of ritual.

they coughed and writhed in pain, the power seemed to be burning at the contact of their skin.

“what are you doing?” chan asked desperately in between coughs.

as dongmin placed the vase back to it’s spot on a shelf, he answered over the heavy chanting, “we’re stripping you of your wings!”

wide-eyed and panicked, hyunjin and chan struggled to try and get out of the angel-binding ropes that tightly pinned their arms behind their backs.

“y-you can’t do that!” hyunjin protested, feeling weaker and weaker as the chanting continued and the powder burned hotter.

hyunwoo, with the help of subin, placed a hand on the boys’ head and backsides.

“you’re hereby relieved of your duties as protectors for committing the sin of sloth for not helping us and diminished to live as those puny humans you were once defending.” they said in unison.

chan and hyunjin screamed in pain as they felt the majority of their angelic grace slowly leaving their bodies.

(grace is what grants an angel it’s powerful abilities. you can take another angel’s grace through ritual or cutting them open.)

after a sudden bright flash, both boys were flung back to earth, causing a crater-like impact on the ground that they landed on.

(now we get to you!!!)

your peaceful slumber was cut short when the sound of the impact startled you awake.

you crawled slowly to the window, afraid that a burgular was breaking into your home.

imagine the surprise on your face when you see two bodies covered in dust laying in your backyard.

your mind kept telling you to go back inside the bedroom but you were already opening the back door, mustering all the possible courage you had to tell them to go away or you’d call the cops.

they hadn’t moved in the slightest when you approached them & you feared the worst. ( >д< )

... are they ded??

you stepped closer.

chan was the first to recover from his unconscious state and he slowly sat up, clutching his throbbing head.

hyunjin woke up a few seconds after, groaning about his back.

their attention was swept in your direction after you cleared your throat, and squeaked, “YO, G-GET THE HELL OFF OF MY PROPERTY!”

aaaaand holy crap you could s E E them?!

^^^ that’s exactly what they asked you at the same time.

...are they high or something????? you asked yourself

“listen, i don’t have time for this! leave now or i’ll call the cops!”

hyunjin & chan exchanged a look of confusion.

“we’re not robbers, or anything like that.” hyunjin reasoned out.

before you could respond, chan chimed in, “you’re (y/n), right???”

*cue you giving him the side-eyes.*

you asked how he knew your name.

“because we’ve been watching over you for a long time.” he answered.

OHHHHH GREAT. NOT ROBBERS. BUT STALKERS.

you scoffed.

hyunjin waved his hands in decline. “not those either!”

“then what?”

*they tell you that they’re your guardian angels.*

pfffft, you ofc didn’t believe them. what, next thing they’re gonna tell you is that your fairy godmother will be coming over shortly too?

hyunjin motioned around the impact sight, telling you that no other being could’ve made this sort of hole in the ground except angels.

you rolled your eyes and replied, “listen bud, i don’t know when the area 51 raid happened, so if you’re some alien creature loose from my stupid neighbor’s house, just jump the fence and don’t come back here.”

but then, chan started explaining things, and as did hyunjin

things that were so personal about you and even about your relatives that not even the best stalker could find out.

… maybe… just maybe… these dudes were telling the truth.

you motioned for them to follow you inside the house and sat yourselves down in the living room area.

“...say that you WERE somehow my angels… why are you.. visible?? & not showing wings or like… a halo or sumn?” you asked.

it took some time to explain but chan & hyunjin gave you the whole story about hyunwoo, dongmin, and subin.

You: :o

while you left to get them some water (bc they’re a lil more human now, they’re getting thorsty), hyunjin worriedly told chan, “we have to find hyeonjeong or the other elders. it’s possible that they could stop what’s going on upstairs and we could even get our wings back!”

chan sighed and frowned. :(

“even if we could, we’d need grace from other angels just to get some of our powers back. whom, i assume are aware that we’re banished from going upstairs.” he reasoned out.

“i can help”

both boys looked up to the sound of your voice standing behind the couch, holding two cups of water.

“i mean… i’m no, ‘super hero,’ but i’ll do what i can to assist you guys in saving people & becoming angels again.” you continued.

*chan & hyunjin shook their heads to say no*

after you asked them why they won’t let you, they said that the whole ordeal will be dangerous & they don’t want you to get hurt.

angels weren’t all fluffy feathers & halo’s.

they’re extremely powerful beings who will stop at nothing to get their desired results, even at the expense of others.

you respond with, ‘i know how to handle myself. besides, think of this as a token of gratitude for always protecting me & making me the person i am today.’

hyunjin, set down his emptied cup and said, “we were just doing our jobs. there’s no need to thank us, (y/n)!”

you leaned against the backside of the couch, standing in between them.

“you’re gonna need all the help you can get to find other angels, y’know. three is better than two.”

IT TOOK A LOT FOR THE BOYS TO SLOWLY NOD AND FINALLY LET YOU BE MEMBER OF THEIR OPERATION TO GET THEIR WINGS BACK AND TAKE DOWN SUBIN, HYUNWOO, AND DONGMIN.

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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

Text

Random Writing… Fragments?…

… Okay, so this is just kinda a… Well, it’s sort of an aimless piece of an idea I had regarding the Ark, where she’s something like the Lady from Killjoys.

Partially bc I loved the idea of her doing something like this.

So this is a Zero-One version of large parts of season 4, episode 4 - What To Expect When You’re Expecting… An Alien Parasite.

Featuring the Ark.

And Fuwa. And Horobi. Bc I am a simple child. ^^;

The majority of the dialogue comes from Killjoys, bc it was perfect. I just filled in the scenario.

This is a little fragmented and starts in the middle, but the idea is that the Ark’s consciousness has manifested in her cyberspace, and she’s literally trying to get out and upload herself into a body or something so that she can be mobile.

Korenosuke’s ‘death’ was actually him uploading a copy/version of his memories (based on the concept that human brains run on a form of electricity, and w/ advanced enough tech, we can interface w/ computers) into the Ark to try and stop her/slow her down.

Horobi was originally created twelve years ago to help maintain her program-wise, but her going homicidal got to him. Here, something happens (bc of Fuwa, bc I love my imaginary friendship) that he remembers his original purpose, and elects to head into her cyberspace to try and undo some of the damage he did while under her control.

Meanwhile, Fuwa decides to go w/ him to try and protect the others, and w/ a little improving, they’re able to get him online, too.

(Note: The ‘Zea forcing Horobi’s system to interface w/ your mind’ thing is supposed to be a stand in for whatever it is Fuwa did to snap Horobi out of the Ark’s effects… Here being, he forced him to experience his memories and remember what feeling felt like. If that makes sense.)

… Wow. All those explanations probably killed any and all enjoyment, didn’t they? ^^;

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“What’s taking him so long?” Horobi muttered, standing by the hole in the wall. “We’re not safe here.”

“You think we’re safe out there?” Fuwa grunted, without looking up. He supposed it shouldn’t be surprising that the cyberspace of the Ark could look like the Daybreak site, since that was where she was, but… The attention to detail was disconcerting. He’d never been in the MetsubouJinrai hideout, but he had no doubt this recreation was entirely accurate, right down to the couch he was, or ‘though’ he was, sitting on.

With a sigh, the HumaGear turned from staring at the door to walk over and sit beside him. “You need to disconnect while you still can.”

Vulcan shrugged. “I’m open to suggestions on how.” He replied. “That was going to be your trick.”

Horobi shook his head, turning to look at the wall again. “… Why did you leave the cave?”

“Korenosuke wanted me to try and find the Ark’s consciousness.”

The HumaGear tilted his head to give the human beside him a sharp look. “… He always plans ahead. He wouldn’t have sent you there if he didn’t think you had a way out.”

Fuwa rolled his eyes. “Well, he might’ve.” Then he paused. “There was… Something. Something I was supposed to talk to Zero-One about when I got out.” He rubbed his forehead. “Some story.”

“Perhaps he was trying to tell you a way out without her knowing?” The HumaGear offered. “Do you remember what the story was?”

“Yes.” Fuwa replied shortly—then, “But so should you.” He stood, turning to face Horobi as the HumaGear rose as well. “… I know you’re not Horobi.” Vulcan announced evenly. “Did you really think I was that stupid?”

“Honestly?” It was disturbing how perfect the illusion was, right down to the voice and tone—but then the eyes flickered red. “I really did.”

And then Fuwa was sucker punched in the stomach so hard his vision blacked out.

The Ark smirked down at him. “Oh, we are going to have so much fun.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Fuwa opened his eyes to the ceiling of Hiden’s private lab. He sat up slowly, clutching his aching stomach, and found he was lying on the large table in the middle of the room. Despite the fact that he knew he was in cyberspace… Everything felt overwhelmingly real.

“You think a new face would work better?” His head snapped around to find Horobi—no, the Ark—standing staring the three-dimensional printer. She turned slowly, her eyes flickering red once more, and glitches ran through her frame. “Let’s find out.” Fuwa’s heart skipped a beat as her new form solidified.

Standing in front of him was Hiden Aruto.

“This one seems special to you,” The Ark remarked in Zero-One’s voice, gaze fixed on Vulcan’s face, “As does this place.”

He tried to change the horrified stare into a glare. “How do you know about this?”

“You.” The Ark told him with a grin that looked completely out of place on Hiden’s face. “When Zea forced Horobi’s system to interface with your mind, it gave me all of your memories.” She sidled across the floor, moving closer and reaching out to smooth a hand over his hair like he was a dog. Fuwa wanted to pull away from the unnatural touch, but found he couldn’t move a finger, even has her hand dropped to actually scratch behind his ear. “Thank you for that. Filled a lot of missing pieces.”

Finally, he found his voice, at least, though it was weak and breathless. “But not everything,” He wheezed, “There are things you don’t know. Like how to get out of here.”

She sighed, nodding in agreement. “True… But then again, little mutt…” He felt her other hand under his chin, holding his face so that he had to look into her eyes—Hiden’s eyes. “… Neither do you.”

There was smoke and ash and heat all around him—he was a teenager again, running frantically through the halls of his own school as a horde of murderous robots swarmed behind him.

No. No. He wasn’t falling into this again. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, tried to force his brain to think of something else—and was surprised to find what came to mind was mostly people. Hiden, Izu, Yaiba, even Horobi and Jin. His subordinates. The HumaGear who’d saved his life.

A shock ran through him as his back slammed onto the tabletop, shaking him out of it. The Ark was leaning over him now, hands hovering in the air, and he realised he must have wrenched his head from her hold, explaining why his neck hurt along with his back. She looked annoyed for a moment—then the twisted smirk appeared again, and he felt sick from seeing that malice on Hiden’s face once more.

“Well done, you.” She told him cheerfully. “It’s been such a long time since I was surprised.” Her hand touched his cheek, and to his dismay he found he couldn’t move again as her voice—Hiden’s voice—went dangerously soft. “I admit you surprised me.”

“Compliment not accept.” He gasped back, still trying to maintain a glare, or at least some stoicism—but it was getting harder when it was Zero-One leaning over him, grinning like that.

“I appreciate your pluck.” The Ark told him with more suspicious sincerity, still stroking his cheek. “I really do. One of the few things I admire about humans.”

“Am I supposed to say I admire something about you?” Vulcan snarled back. “Because I don’t.” She laughed then, and it sounded exactly like Hiden’s laughter—and that just hurt more. “What the hell even are you, anymore?”

“Patient.” She replied softly. “HumaGear are my tools. Especially MetsubouJinrai. And soon…” She paused in caressing his cheek to cup his face in her palm, though her thumb still trailed across his cheekbone, “… You will be, too.”

He gritted his teeth. “I wouldn’t count on it.” He whispered, trying to keep his voice steady, “I don’t play well with others.”

Another horribly accurate laugh. “Yes,” She told him, smiling again, her other hand moving back to comb fingers through his hair again, “I can see that.” He really wished she’d gone with another face—despite the cruelty in the eyes, every single minute motion that cross this one was horribly familiar. There had always been something about Hiden that made him let down his guard—some innocent, childlike air, befitting a kid dropped into a responsibility he didn’t quite understand. And even now, when he knew it wasn’t really Zero-One, he could still feel that nagging in his chest, that weird, warm, soft feeling. Hiden’s voice out of her mouth was gentle and even tender, but even more terrifying because of it. “I see most everything from here,” The ark continued, ignoring his conflict, “I’m a memory pool, connected to everything. But then…” She moved to hoist herself up to sit on the table beside him, leaning back over him and planting both elbows on his chest to pin him down—even though he was still paralysed—and taking his head in her hands again. “… I noticed certain memories were missing. Edited out. Moments, faces…” She gave his face a small pat for emphasis, “… Until there was a void.” Her hands stopped moving, just holding his head to make sure he was meeting her eyes as she leaned even further in. “Hiden Aruto is the void.” She hissed, eyes darkening again. “Korenosuke hid him from me. I need to know why.”

Fuwa swallowed, finally finding something to focus on, a use for the weird way Hiden made him feel. The kid. He had to protect the kid. “You’re not as smart,” He growled, “As you think you are.”

She laughed in Zero-One’s voice again. “And you,” She murmured, expression turning into one of Hiden’s earnest, pleading looks, and his heart stuttered again, “Are not as strong as he needs you to be.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“You’re wasting my time.” A sharp shove knocked Fuwa to the ground—but he didn’t get a chance to recover his bearings, as the Ark was kneeling over him again already, and he felt her fingers smoothing over his hair once more. “This is just bits of old memories. None of it’s real.” She struck him roughly across the jaw. “None of it matters!”

It felt wrong, hearing it all in Hiden’s voice, the young man’s face hovering above him and smirking with malicious glee. The hand petting his hair moved to cup his face with false gentleness, the smile broadening. The Ark tapped a fingertip to his temple again—and then he was looking stunned look of confusion and fear on Hiden’s face the first time he’d broken him out of Metal Cluster Hopper, looking so much like a frightened child it made his chest hurt…

The Ark laughed cruelly, snapping him out of the memory again. “That’s the beautiful thing about human minds.” She murmured patting his cheek softly. “You don’t just remember faces, places. You remember how you felt.” She was leaning far too close—close enough that he should have been able to feel breath. “You remember pain.” Everything burned, his mind and all of his senses flashing back to the day Horobi had nearly killed him. “Agony.” Then it felt like his body was being torn apart, Assault Wolf’s henshin announcement ringing in his ears, and blood in his mouth—then Hiden’s hands on his arm, the boy’s voice raised in anxious alarum. “Shame.” Amatsu’s back as the man called him a stray and walked away, taking Yaiba with him and leaving him alone and battered on the cement. “Oh…?” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Grief.” A memory from far in his past, standing beside his mother at his father’s funeral as a young boy. “And I,” Her hands cradled his face again, “Can trap you in your worst memories forever.” For a moment, her smile changed from a smirk into a frightfully perfect mimic of one of Hiden’s kind, innocent ones. “Would you like that?”

“No.” He barely recognised his own voice, no more than a broken rasp.

The Ark tilted her head, giving him a prompting look. “No, what?” Then he was facing off with Yaiba in the parking garage again, hoping she’d give him something anything so that it wouldn’t have to go there…

“No, thank you.” Fuwa spat through gritted teeth.

Another creepily accurate imitation of Hiden’s smile, and she moved her hand to stroke his hair again. “See?” She murmured, “Memories aren’t just where you’ve been. They’re who you are. And if I own that…?” She tapped him on the nose with a small giggle, “I own you. And when I get out of here, little mutt?” The hand on his head curled into a fist, gripping a handful of his hair, her other one grabbing his chin tightly, forcing him to look into her face—Hiden’s face—as she leaned even closer, the smile morphing into a cold stare, “… I will own everyone.”

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Aaaaand… I dunno how to get out of here, so we’ll end there. ^^; I’m planning on doing another part of this bc there was one other thing I wanted to include. But I don’t know when I’ll have that done.

#Random Writing Tidbit #Kamen Rider Zero-One #Kamen Rider Zero One #my precious angry wolf dad #the Ark is bloody creepy #anyway #go watch Killjoys it's a good show #obviously not perfect nothing is but it's very good #will not confirm or deny that the 'next part' also features her turning into Jin to torture Horobi ^^#bc he's also still in there #Binary Retro Rider

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darisugawa · 5 years

Note

❝ Sorry I, uh… Walked in on your alone-time. I swear I didn’t see much. ❞ for uhhhhhhhhh Jakurai he deserves to get his meat beat

so yeah this one’s another Long One and it took me 84 years a;sldkfjAS;DLKFJ

but tbh shoutout to @theempresskaizer who left like the nicest tag dump under my samatoki fic bc it gave me the Encouragement to finish this scenario for jakurai thank u

ANYWAY UH… this is phone sex just. straight up. so very dialogue heavy LOL

Negative Numbers

↪ Jakurai/Reader

Jakurai doesn’t consider himself a man of many indulgences.

He could make many excuses as to why that is, whether it’shis schedule, his lack of desire, his priorities–anything. There’s along list of things that come before his own pleasures that he has sorted downto a particular science and he’s too meticulous to stray from it at this pointin his life. Or perhaps he’s just getting old–too stubborn to strayfrom habit to fix what’s not entirely broken.

The only problem is that his current predicament might be inneed of fixing, given that it’s not the first time he’s had to deal withit in just the past two weeks.

Jakurai sighs to himself, having woken up from another dream–sovery unlike him, as seeing things in his sleep only ever means bad news.They’re not like the nightmares, at least, but he wonders if they’re worse.There is tea to drink and syringes to fiddle with when he is restless frombattle-hardened memories, but there is no quick fix to longing,indefinite as it is. Matters of the heart are confusing andfrustrating–incomprehensible and without reason. Jakurai dislikes problemsthat don’t come with decided formulas, even if he begrudgingly understands thathe’s no exception their inevitable nature.

He’d prefer it, at least, if that said longing took a moreshapeless, anonymous form. It’d be far, far easier if he didn’tassociate his desires with you.

Another sigh escapes him as he sits up, ever aware of the heatthat’s coiled up at his very core and how he strains against his pants.He’s not been a teenager for some time, but Jakurai is certain he’s notexperienced inane wet dreams in just as long. Faint images of animaginary you remain in his mind–your lips wrapped around his cock as you lookup to him, observing every reaction he gives you. The thought isn’t nearly assatisfying when he’s lucid, as the feeling ghosts along him instead ofactually providing anything of substance. Jakurai drags his legs over the sideof the bed and puts his face in his hands with a groan. He will have to takecare of this, even though a small part of him loathes putting the effort into asolution that will only last him a short while.

The clock reads 2:17 AM.

As it turns to 2:18, his phone rings.

Jakurai doesn’t bother to check the name before quicklyanswering it, hoping that maybe whoever it is may have more importantmatters to distract him with. Perhaps it’s Ichiro-kun, who’ll apologize for thelate hour but insist he needs some over-the-counter suggestions for one of hisbrothers… He considers Doppo-kun, but realizes he’d more likely be trying tosleep at this hour. Hifumi-kun should be at work, and–

“Oh, Jakurai-san? I didn’t think you’d answer at this hour.”

… Ah. This is quite the predicament.

“… It’s not very common,” he grunts out, cursing his ownluck that the very source of his distractions is just on the other end of theline. The sound of your voice sends a shiver down his spine and Jakurai pincheshis own thigh, as if reminding himself to keep his composure.

“You do sound like you’ve just woken up,” you say,sounding a little guilty. “I apologize if–”

“No,” he says, too hasty, before he shakes his head,trying to get rid of the haze. “No, I was… already awake. It’s no trouble. Whatwas it you wished to call me for?”

“You asked me for those documents a few days ago, remember?I’ve finally gotten them gathered and organized, so I figured I’d leave you avoicemail since your phone is usually off at these hours.”

“Is… that right?” he asks, just barely able to wrap his mindaround what you’re talking about. Jakurai ends up focusing so much on the soundof your voice that he can’t even comprehend what you’re saying. Goodness.

“… You sound flustered, Jakurai-san,” you say, soundingsuspicious. He shivers again at the sound of his name on your tongue. “Did I…perhaps interrupt something?”

Ah. A direct question, as always. Jakurai clears his throat,caught off guard, but he knows that alone has given him away and he wonders ifyou have that curious smile turning your lips up at this revelation. Thesilence is heavy, but you wait for his answer patiently. He swallows.

“… Something like that, perhaps.”

“I see,” you say, humming to yourself on the other end. “Yetyou saw it fit to answer me right away, regardless? It makes me wonder of yourintentions, Jakurai-san.”

“Nothing unsavory, I can promise,” he insists. Not foranswering the phone, at least. “I was quite hoping for a distraction fromthis… issue of mine, actually.”

“Oh? Talking business to get your mind on other things?” youask, sounding as if you’re shifting your phone from one ear to the other. “Or…were you looking for another sort of distraction?”

Jakurai feels himself throb and uses all of hiswillpower not to curse aloud. “… Is that your offer?’’

“I wouldn’t mind. We’re good friends, aren’t we?” youinsist. “I’m a bit pent up myself… it could be mutually beneficial.’’

Mutually beneficial. It sounds so clinical, butJakurai wants to use it as a proper excuse for himself. Maybe it’s not right ofhim, but if he can rationalize he’s also helping you in the process,then he suddenly doesn’t feel so bad about it.

… Is he really so desperate that he’ll reach for anything?

“… What do you propose?”

“Hm… Will just my voice do for you?”

“Yes.”

He hears you giggle on the other end and he moves to leanback against his bed frame. This is shameless, he knows, but you areboth adults. You know him too well by now to offer him something like thiswithout knowing the consequences… of which there will be many in the aftermaththat you’ll have to talk about in extent. But just this once, Jakurai doesn’twant to consider the details–he just wants you to tell him what to do.

“Tell me then, good doctor,” you say and he hears the soundof a chair leaning back. “What were you thinking about before you picked up thephone?”

Jakurai wraps an arm around his stomach, gripping at his ownclothes. “… I was dreaming of that which I do not have.”

“And what would that be?”

He’s afraid to say it, but your gentle voice prods him,anyway. “… You.”

“Oh?” you ask, feigning surprise as you hum to yourself. Youknow exactly what you’re doing, but he’s not inclined to stop you. “That’s verycurious indeed… For you to be so riled up, I must’ve been doing somethinginappropriate, for certain.”

“… It is my own fault, to have imagined it that way.”

“Nobody’s blaming anyone, are they? I’m simply askingbecause I want to help, Jakurai-san…” you say with an even tone. “… Was it myhand? Perhaps my mouth you were thinking of?”

His hand starts to loosen its grip. “… Your mouth.”

You fake a gasp of surprise, but he doesn’t respond to itright away. “Really? You’d be so desperate for me to have a taste ofyou? Jakurai-san, I’m surprised…” You pause. “… Though I suppose being calleda god makes one long for someone to kneel before them.”

“… I’m no better than any man seeking the warmth ofanother,” he says, allowing himself to push his pants past his hips and lettingout a sigh of relief as he rids himself of restraint. “I wish to be nothingmore before you, if I may…”

“Before me? Jakurai-san, you must be joking.”

“You would need only to ask of me…” he insists, shivering ashe wraps a hand around himself, circling his thumb at the tip. “Call it worshipif you wish… I’ll confess at your altar, if only you’d be mine…”

“Dangerous words from a dangerous man, Jakurai-san,” yousay, thought you sound a little breathless. He wonders if he can have that sortof effect on you–if you long in the same way that he does. “Surely…I’ll let your words go to my head, if I’m not careful.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,”–never to you–“So youneed not to worry… If it’s a god you wish to be, then I would make it so…”Jakurai starts to stroke himself then, sighing as he imagines your hand insteadof his own–smaller, more delicate.

“Do you always make such impossible promises?” you ask. “Itmakes me wonder what it is you expect of me…”

“I expect nothing,” he says, moving his hand in a twistingmotion. “Even if this is all you’ll give me in the end… I won’t be able tostop. I’m too far along to let go…”

He hears you sigh against his ear this time and he wondersif you’ve begun to touch yourself, too. The thought haunts him–the image ofyou messily half-dressed as you seek release with him, unable to experienceanything but your own touch. Do you wish his hands were on you instead, the wayhe does yours? Do you want him to unravel you, take you apart until you laybare beneath him in the same way?

“… You offer too much of yourself, good doctor,” you saywith a breathless laugh. “… Wouldn’t you prefer to be a little selfish? Letme take care of you…?”

He stutters out a quiet moan, speeding up his pace a little.“I dare not to hope for such things, you must realize…”

“Let me indulge you then,” you insist, your breath hitchingas you speak. “Though all you have are my words right now… You can ask mefor whatever you like, Jakurai-san.”

“… You’re all I want,” he admits, too caught up in his ownpleasure to reel himself back in. “These are desires only you could possiblysatisfy… I long only for what you and you alone can give me…”

He hears a moan from the other end and Jakurai slumps backfurther against his bed frame. You’re in your own throes of pleasure, allbecause of him and he can hardly stand that he’s not there to see ithimself. It’s quiet between you two for a moment, save for the sounds you shareover the phone, but you speak up again after a while.

“… Allow me to give you that,” you eventually tell him,short of breath and so, so close–or so he hopes. “If it’s just me youwant, then take it… I won’t stop you.”

“Please–”

“You can finish… just for me, Jakurai-san.”

For you.

His breath hitches when he feels himself spill over hishand, leaning back heavily as it trails down his knuckles. He calls your nameout in whispers, wishing so desperately that you might be here to kiss it outof his mouth. Jakurai doesn’t have such a luxury, so he at least settles forhearing you call out for him in turn as you reach your own high from the otherend. You share heavy breaths over the phone and he’s too content to want tomove from his spot, wanting to let the moment drag on for as long as possible.You’re the one who breaks the silence and he almost regrets it.

“… Was that what you were looking for, Jakurai-san?”

He doesn’t answer right away, gathering his thoughts. “…Did you mean it? When you said you wouldn’t stop me?”

You laugh in response. “As you would do the same, I wouldn’tlie to you.”

His shoulders relax and despite himself, he feels hopeful.“Perhaps my timing is terrible, but… may I see you tomorrow? We should… discusssome things.”

“Of course. I’d hate to leave you with just thoughts of me…I’m not so cruel, you know.”

“Only when you don’t feel like it,” he says, unable to helpthe chuckle that leaves his throat.

“I won’t be cruel to you, is what I mean,” you say,sounding indignant. “But… the hour is late. For now, you should rest… and wecan have our talk tomorrow.”

“… You swear it?”

“On my very soul, Jakurai-san,” you say. “I’ll come for you,worry not.”

He nods to himself, offering a hum of approval before hefinally bids you good night. You’ll come for him, you promised it, anddespite the mess he’s in, his worries are no longer there in the back of hismind.

Jakurai will see you tomorrow–perhaps things will be setback on the right path, then.

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #jakurai jinguji #matenrou #spice #scenario #( yeah this took me forever a;slkdfjA;SDLKFJASDF )#( but i read. all tags if u reblog it brings me Joy LMFAO )#( also wanted to play around with like... someone speaking sort of formally in circles w/ jakurai )#( like a game almost )#( but we'll see if that comes across well LMAO )

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