#I will regret posting these today since looks like my dash is dead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jincherie · 4 years

Text

potion 609 | pjm & ksj

- COMMISSION -

✩ — pairing: seokjinx reader x jimin ✩ — genre: poly, magic au, roadtrip au, mutual pining, borderline crack, fluff, slight angst ✩ — words: 10.8k ✩ — rating: sfw ✩ — warnings: *sobbing* they’re so stupid man, they’re so stupid ✩ — notes: this took a bit longer than expected, if only because like everyone else in the world rn I’ve had a few unprecedented issues in my life pop up to deal with. I hope u all are well and if you’re not, that you get better soon. please enjoy this mess! <3

A four day roadtrip into the depths of the mountains with the two best friends you’ve recently realised you have feelings for is probably the last thing you need. It becomes a reality, though, when Seokjin and Jimin bring home a cursed doll that reacts with the potion you were making and lands you all cursed yourselves; both forced to say whatever comes to mind and bound to each other. Now stuck in close quarters with your two idiot best friends who for the life of them can not shut up for the foreseeable future while you venture to fix this, you’re beginning to doubt whether you or your heart can survive this trip in one piece.

masterlist | — posted; 24.03.2020

“Oh my god… y/n. What have you done?”

You glare, hard, at the male standing dead in the middle of the room, currently in the midst of being accosted by two idiots you happen to call your best friends. If you hadn’t thought quick and chugged a silencing potion before frantically texting Namjoon, you have no doubt you’d be stuck in the same situation as them right now.

“Please, please, please help us!” Jimin is clutching your professor by the arms, shaking him like a madman. Some of the goo coating his soiled silken grey shirt flings onto your professor’s, and you watch him physically recoil. “I can’t live like this! Jin might be hot but he’s so incredibly stupid and if I have to listen to his unfiltered thoughts all day every day I’m going to lose my [quack]ing mind!”

As much as it pains you, you’re so stressed and exasperated right now that you can’t even laugh at the fact that your professor has spent all of two minutes in the room and already has cast one of his stupid censoring spells on the two of them.

“Excuse me?” Seokjin sounds, smacking Jimin on the arm. “You think I’m hot? Why don’t you tell me more often!! You know I like hearing it! You’re so stingy, honestly. No wonder y/n likes me more.”

At Seokjin’s unwitting confirmation of Jimin’s words, the shorter male turns a look of absolute plea to your professor, grip tightening. The man in his hold then turns to you, looking an odd cross between bewildered and annoyed. Before he says anything more, the two idiots continuing to bicker beyond him, a voice sounds from behind you.

“She can’t talk,” Namjoon supplies smoothly, stepping to your side and slinging his arm around your shoulder with a dimpled grin. “The potion seems to have had the opposite effect on her, oddly enough.”

You resist the urge to spin and pin the male with an impressed look at how smoothly he just pulled that out of his ass, especially after performing a strong silencing spell on you barely a minute ago.

“Well, these two can definitely talk,” your professor says, and the deadpan tone and expression coming from him, someone who is usually so mild mannered and sweet, almost makes you choke on your own spit. Even if you wanted to laugh, Namjoon’s silencing spells are no joke and you can’t let out even the slightest of chuckles. “It seems that not only has the potion bound all those covered in its contents—the three of them—but these two in particular… It seems as though their filters are completely gone, and they’re just saying everything that comes to the top of their head. And I mean— everything.”

Namjoon makes a pitying sound, giving your professor an empathetic look. Meanwhile you are standing and contemplating whether it would be a better option to throw yourself off the nearest bridge rather than stay and deal with this mess. It’s tempting, you admit, but one thing stands in the way…

You look down, catching sight of the translucent, glowing cord of runes and sigils that winds around your wrist, trailing off in the direction of the bickering duo a few metres away. A wave of something like exasperation floods through you, tinged with hints of self-pity.

Of course one of the side effects of this stupid cursed mishap is that you physically cannot stray more than 3 metres from dumb and dumber over there. Like, at all. You’ve tried. It was a massive effort just to get them close enough to the doorway that you could go into the other room with Namjoon so he could give you a hit of magical shut-up juice.

“Please help us!” Jimin whines, louder than before. He is successful in capturing the attention of the entire room, and he stomps his foot. “Professor Lim, please! Have I not been the best student you could ever ask for? Helping in your shop and bringing you cursed items from across the globe?”

Once he starts, he doesn’t stop—which isn’t all that different from usual except this time it’s like you’ve twisted a tap on and the handle has then broken, leaving the pipe jetting out water with no way of cutting it off. You think you’re really going to go insane if you’re stuck with these two any longer.

“I can’t help you!” your professor bursts, tearing himself away from your friends’ pleading grips. “Look, I have no idea what on earth y/n was attempting to cook up in there that made it react with the cursed doll like that—”

I was EXPERIMENTING, you defend silently, thankfully unable to voice your thoughts.

“—but it’s out of my jurisdiction, boys. Judging from the runes on those bindings this is some high level magic, and kind of, uh… niche. I only know barely a handful of people that might be able to help.”

“Who?” Jimin and Seokjin demand at the same time, eyes wide with hope—for all of Seokjin’s rebuttals to Jimin’s earlier whining, he doesn’t seem too overjoyed at the prospect of being stuck with him for longer than necessary either.

At the question, your professor gives a somewhat sheepish laugh. “Uh, well… the closest is a witch I knew back in my university student days. She’s not that far geographically, but she lives at the top of one of the mountains in Dusk Dew Valley and the magic of the forest means you can’t zap in or out so… you’re gonna have to drive.”

“That’s not so bad,” Seokjin comments, at the same time that Jimin squints, suspicious.

“How long?”

Your professor clears his throat, averting his gaze—personally, you’re on the edge of your metaphorical seat. “Uh,” he begins awkwardly, like he wishes he didn’t have to say what he is going to next. “Probably about… four? …five days?”

Aside from the background sound of cursed goo sliding down the walls and plopping onto the floor in fat, glutinous globs, the room is silent. Your gaze goes from your wrist, to the ugly doll on the floor a few feet away (where it landed in the midst of the blast—they hadn’t gotten very far into the room before things went south) and then to Jimin and Seokjin, who have been your closest friends for the better part of your adult life and with whom normally you wouldn’t mind spending such an amount of time with.

Except, thing’s aren’t really as they are normally, and lately you’ve started noticing some feelings rising within you that are getting harder and harder to squash. You don’t think you can make it out of this in once piece, and a look to the side reveals Namjoon’s doubtful expression that tells you he thinks the same.

[ DAY ONE ]

The trip, for the few hours you’ve been on it so far, has proved to be taxing in more ways than one. Case in point:

“Namjoon! Stop playing that hippy garbage and show us your mixtape! What are you, a coward?”

Next to you, you can sense Namjoon’s hands tighten on the wheel—you might have fought tooth and nail to get shotgun but he’d been coerced somewhat unwillingly into the driving seat. He has a provisional licence and still has some supervised driving hours to complete, so it was with a pout that he climbed in next to you earlier today and has been behind the wheel ever since.

The reason for the twitch that’s developed under his eye and the white tint of his knuckles as they grip the wheel lies in the seats behind you—Seokjin and Jimin have been running their mouths for the better part of the last few hours and don’t seem like they’re going to be shutting up anytime soon. To be fair, at the start they were just talking about normal things, but then one of them said something somewhat antagonistic about an hour and a half in and they haven’t stopped bickering since.

In the seat behind them, Jungkook and Taehyung – two friends who had somehow been roped into this abridged roadtrip— sit with looks of pure, unadulterated regret on their faces.

“This is my mixtape,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, Seokjin shrinking back into his seat in response with a chastised look. It takes all of a split second for Jimin to snicker, no chance for sweet, sweet silence to bloom before they’re back to bickering once more. You almost give in to the urge to slam your head against the dash again. Almost.

“Why couldn’t they both have turned out like y/n?” you hear Jungkook question in something that must be his attempt at a whisper (yet that still reaches you at the front of the car). Taehyung sighs, like the weight of the world has suddenly rested itself on his shoulders and he now finds himself with the task of carrying it for the rest of eternity.

“They’re too stupid,” Taehyung answers, somewhat cryptically. By some show of mercy from up above, neither of the two idiots in question hear him insulting them.

You squint at Taehyung through the rear-view mirror, wondering if he’s onto you. He doesn’t seem like it, what with him now playing ‘I Spy’ with Jungkook and cheating with his magic, but then again you know Taehyung to be awfully perceptive when he needs to be. You’ll have to ask Namjoon to make sure he doesn’t blab to dumb and dumber behind you or you’ll never hear the end of it.

“You know what? This wouldn’t have happened if y/n didn’t pick you up like a stray dog in her second year!”

Ears alert at the sound of your name, you turn your head to nail the two with a suspicious look while Namjoon keeps his eyes pointedly to the front and on the road carving a path between thick rainforest greenery. Seokjin is sputtering at what Jimin just announced, eyes whipping between you and Jimin incredulously. He has the exact look on his face that a child does right before they tattle on their older sibling to their mother for being mean to them.

It really is like raising two kids though, honestly, you lament. You should see if you can get family benefits from the government.

“Excuse me? If anything, I picked you two up like strays. You should have seen her that first day she came up to me, all pleading with these puppy dog eyes, asking if I would be her mentor. She was so pitiful I couldn’t bear to say no.”

WHAT?! That’s not how that went! You glare at Seokjin for spewing mistruths, reaching for something to throw at him in the front cup holder. He has a look of regret on his face, like what he said was never meant to enter the air, but it’s out now and you’re gonna pelt something at him for it. It’s their fault they’re cursed to say whatever the hell comes to mind, anyway. It’s just unfortunate that 80% of the things that come to Seokjin’s mind happen to be things that shouldn’t be said out loud. You’d say the same for Jimin but his percentage is a little lower, more like 50-60%, so you’ll let him live for now.

“Oh my gods that is ENOUGH! Both of you shut up! Please! Or so help me Hecate I will turn this car around and dump you two on the side of the road to walk!”

Surprisingly, Namjoon’s reprimand works and the two males snap their mouths shut, eyes wide. You haven’t forgiven Seokjin for his sleight, so you make sure he sees you glaring before you turn back around. You can hear him gulp.

Before you met Seokjin in one of your classes at the academy, it had always been you and Jimin. The two of you grew up in the same gated community in the same cul-de-sac—you with your aunt, and him with his incredibly rich and highly esteemed parents. You always saw his parents before you ever saw him, and (somewhat unfairly) you judged from their stony expressions and default looks of disdain that he’d be just like them—cold, stuck up and probably someone who would bully you for not living in a home with actual parents. It was a bit of a sore spot for you back then.

To your complete and utter surprise, everything you assumed of him was turned on its head when he found you at the park one day, angry-crying in embarrassment due to the nasty fall you’d just had. Some other kids had dared you to do a trick on the swings that required some air magic, but you’re not very strong in that area. Yet, like the stupid, proud child you were, you attempted it anyway and ended up scraping your knees raw at the edge of the playground. Not wanting to get in trouble and terrified at the sight of blood, they’d fled and left you there gritting your teeth and trying not to wail in pain. You were in the middle of plotting your revenge on each and every one of them while pressing a hand to your knees when a voice had sounded from beside you and scared the living daylights out of you.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Honestly, he had been so sweet and kind that you didn’t even realise straight away that he was the same child that lived in the house across from yours. From the beginning you couldn’t stay strong against his big, puppy eyes, and you ended up letting him help when he offered. You always were a bit better with plants and herbs, trees flowering when you tickled them and dandelions dancing around you in glee as you passed through meadows on the way to school. That didn’t help much in the area of healing, though.

Jimin, you were surprised to learn, actually was quite adept at healing magic, despite his affinity being for water—or maybe that’s part of the reason why. He’d wiped the tears on your cheeks and pressed them to your knees with small, careful hands—they’d glowed before your eyes and a tingle and a tickle later, they were completely scuff free—smoother than they had been when you were a baby, you remember marvelling in awe.

That moment then, you’ve concluded many times, was the moment you first started to like Park Jimin.

All through high school, you liked him. Sometimes painfully so. Eventually, even without the nurturing and watering that comes with requited feelings, that bloomed into something a little too alike love. Right as you entered your undergraduate at the academy, you decided to do yourself a favour and attempted to squash that flower down, to rip it out of your heart. But alas, it was rooted too deep. You were helpless but to continue dealing with those feelings.

That is, until Seokjin came along.

You could say that he was your next infatuation, but it was a little more complicated than that at the time. The way that you came to like him… is a little different.

You might have developed your crush on Jimin instantly as a child, but with Seokjin the feelings built slowly within you for weeks as you sat with him in classes and began to hang out with him outside them. It was the kind of thing that you don’t realise until it smacks you suddenly in the face one day at the most inconvenient time—for you, you realised the feelings that had blossomed within you one afternoon at an ice cream parlour after watching Seokjin shove the entire dessert into his mouth on a dare, ending up looking like a chipmunk with crushed waffle cone threatening to escape the seal of his lips every time he laughed. It was gross as hell and you’d never been more stupidly attracted to him in your life.

Seokjin eventually was absorbed into your little friend circle, and that’s how it has been for the past two years. The two of them bicker often, but it’s usually playful and it’s just the type of dynamic they happened to fall into. You’re growing a little concerned now though, because it feels like these arguments are slowly getting more and more serious now that they don’t have the ability to exercise their filter.

Frowning to yourself in thought, you turn your gaze out the window and try not to think about it too hard. This roadtrip will be over before you know it! Surely!

— X—

“JIMIN! YOU ALMOST SET MY PANTS ON FIRE! STOP, Y—OH my god you ACTUALLY DID! JIMIN!”

Chaos.

That’s what has overtaken your small little roadside camp. As it grew dark and Namjoon grew tired after driving all day, all of you had made the unanimous decision to stop for the night and set up camp. It was part of the reason Taehyung and Jungkook had agreed to come—they’re always down for an adventure and they’d never been into these mountains.

Yoongi and Hoseok, two other friends that ended up joining your troupe as an extension of Seokjin, had only agreed to come along because they are, in fact, huge plant nerds—and this forest is full of magical flora that Hoseok went absolutely starry-eyed at the mention of. They brought their own car and hence didn’t have to deal with the vexing nature of the journey in the company of Seokjin and Jimin, but they were quickly enlightened once you all stopped to set up camp.

Hoseok is the one that screamed, and considering the flames currently licking the dark material of his slacks, you think he’s well within his rights. A part of you is worried you’re about to be set alight as well, but the rest of you is catching up with what you just saw.

Jimin’s magical affinity, as you’ve known ever since you were kids, is for water. Seokjin’s, as you found out quickly after meeting him in college because he likes to show off, is for heat, and combustion. Put plainly, his affinity is fire.

And yet, when Jimin went to magically pull the water out of Hoseok’s pants after Jungkook spilled the ramen pot on him, it hadn’t exactly gone as anyone expected. For one, Jimin’s hands had glowed pink instead of blue, and instead of seeing water seep out of Hoseok’s pant leg, the entire camp watched as a spark formed from Jimin’s fingertips and went flying towards it.

Long story short; Hoseok’s pants are now on fire and Jimin is freaking out.

The campers that aren’t currently affected (read: everyone but Hoseok and Jimin) are instead almost wetting themselves in laughter at the situation.

“If this is a joke it isn’t funny!” Jimin exclaims, waving his hand in the air. You don’t know whether to focus on him or on Hoseok leaping out of his pants behind him and throwing them on the ground to stomp the flames out. Both are funny, especially when Jimin’s frantic waving doesn’t conjure water as he desired but instead more sparks.

“JIMIN NO!”

The rest of the camp pauses their laughter and scrambles in alarm to dodge the sparks falling, diving out of chairs and rolling out of the way in their desperation—well, everyone but Seokjin, who is currently laughing so hard his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s rolling on the ground in a different way. You make a face of disdain—you could have chosen anyone in the world to befriend and subsequently fall in love with, and you chose these two? You’re a little disappointed in yourself.

“I can’t believe it!” Seokjin is howling, cradling his stomach as he curls on the ground. You wince at the leaves currently tangling in his hair. “Are you telling me you didn’t—didn’t know our powers swapped? Oh my gods, Jimin—”

Your gaze whips to the shorter male, who looks like the visual definition of both unimpressed and murderous. “Are you saying you knew? And you didn’t tell me! You ass—”

A sense of resignation settles within you as you anticipate another fight on the horizon. Their bickering has only worsened through the day, and at this point you’re not above physically gagging them. You brought spare socks, babey.

“Of course I knew! I sneezed in the bathroom earlier and had my ass suddenly embraced in cold water. Are you telling me you didn’t notice when we were drinking juice boxes before and the straws kept melting in your hands?”

Well, everything you’re hearing is news to you—you had no idea before this incident that their powers had been mixed up as well as everything else. They are masters of their own affinity, but have no experience whatsoever with the other’s, so you’re anticipating (regretfully) a lot more incidents like this.

At first Jimin’s face is contorted in something like sympathy and disgust, but that quickly shifts into embarrassment—the tips of his ears join his cheeks in flushing pink.

“No, I thought I was just sitting too close to the fire!” he retorts, pointing a finger at the older male. “I never use fire for anything, how was I supposed to know?!”

Seokjin opens his big mouth to fire something back, but is thankfully stopped in his tracks by Yoongi cramming a pizza slice in there. Seokjin immediately starts chewing like the action triggered some evolutionary reflex, like when you put a finger in a baby’s hand and they grip on instinct.

“Can you both shut up?” he grouches, only bold enough to send Jimin a glare since Seokjin is older than him; it doesn’t stop him from running his mouth at him, though. “I can and I will mix something up to knock you out. Hell, I’ll even get y/n to help—I hear her potion is part of what landed you in this mess.”

You were not expecting to be dragged through the dirt at the end of that. You send the male a glare, flipping him the bird before stomping off to go get some of the desserts from the car. He’s lucky you already silenced yourself or you’d be ripping him a new one by now.

Stupid! Stupid boys! All men do is talk, eat hot pizza and LIE!

Thankfully, you have time to cool off before dinner is over, the atmosphere mollifying now that Jimin and Seokjin’s lives have been threatened and their fear of god (or rather, fear of one Min Yoongi) has rendered them silent once more. You almost forget they were even bickering earlier until it comes time to retire for the night and tents have to be allocated.

Of course, after the day and dinner you’d all just had, it was decided unanimously by all those not currently afflicted by a curse that you, Seokjin and Jimin should share a tent. The others happily retreated to the two other tents set up by the cars, and before you could even smack someone in protest they were gone.

Ten minutes and your entire nightly routine later finds you laying on a king-sized blow-up mattress, squished between your two best friends with the blanket up to your chin. Surprisingly, despite the bickering that occurred when choosing tents, they’re silent now—but not asleep. The occasional sigh gives them away. It’s dark, but the moonlight filtering in through the material of the tent allows you to see the planes of their faces a little more clearly. Both are frowning slightly, Jimin staring at the ceiling and Seokjin looking at the runes over his wrist.

You want to sleep, but the air is heavy with the weight of something yet to be said.

“We’re… sorry, y/n.”

You turn to Seokjin in surprise, eyes taking a moment to adjust to his profile. He’s avoiding your gaze; you feel Jimin’s head turning to face the older male as well. Seokjin sighs, closing his eyes and carding a hand through his charcoal-coloured hair.

“This is our fault,” he continues, resting his hands atop the blanket, over his stomach.

“Hyung,” Jimin voices, tone cautioning. It piques your interest and you file it away for later.

Seokjin turns his head, looking at Jimin for a long moment before turning it further and looking at you. You can’t help but wonder what he just said to the other with his gaze, but for now you’re taken with the soft glisten of his eyes as they meet your own.

“Sorry,” he repeats, clamping his mouth shut after. You squint at him for a long few seconds before releasing him from your gaze and shrugging.

You’re forgiven, I guess. Especially since this is technically also my fault, even though I didn’t know that stupid charmed perfumes could react with cursed dolls… where on earth did they even get that thing?

At your shrug, Seokjin grins brightly. “Great, now that you’ve forgiven us, I have a favour to ask.”

You’re not left wondering what he means for long, because in the next second he rolls over, turning his back to you.

“Can you spoon me? I wanna be the little spoon tonight. Makes me feel safe.”

Letting out the biggest sigh you think you ever have in your life, you roll your eyes but oblige his request and shuffle over to slip your arms around his waist and hug him from behind. He can’t see your smile, so you don’t have to worry about saving face.

“Seriously? Right in front of my salad…”

You reach behind to smack Jimin, and he laughs, quickly scooting over to follow your suit and slip his arms around your waist, curving his body around yours. It makes your heart race, and for the sake of your sanity you pretend that you don’t have one and so don’t have to deal with its traitorous reactions. Heart, what heart? It’s Donut Tuesdays that keeps your blood pumping, babey!

Now that the air is clear and warmth seeps between the three of you, runes around your wrists glowing brighter than before, it doesn’t take long at all before the three of you pass out, slipping eagerly into the tender embrace of sleep.

[DAY THREE]

Needless to say, the tranquillity of that night did not last very long at all.

You’re on the third day of the trip, with at least one more expected to go, and for the duration of today’s drive, the entire car has been in a foul mood. Last you saw Yoongi and Hoseok, they were grumpy too, but you don’t doubt now that they’re away from the bickering duo causing you all such stress that they’re in much better spirits. Sadly, the same can’t be said for you, or anyone else stuck in the same car as you.

Today’s driver is Taehyung, and you swear you’ve seen the thought to drive the car into a ditch flick through his gaze more than twice in the past few minutes alone. It alarmed you at first, but now you’d welcome it, to be honest. Anything to escape your current reality.

You already knew that Seokjin and Jimin enjoyed talking and hearing their own voices, but never before have you been faced with such a long, extended situation where they just do not shut up. It’s wearing you down, you have to admit. As Namjoon’s silencing spell wore off last night, you almost blew your cover and tore into them for it. They just can’t help themselves! They’re lucky that your priority is making sure that your thoughts aren’t revealed to the air, so much that you forwent killing them in favour of topping up the silencing spell.

There are some things that have been lurking on the tip of your tongue in the past few months that you just cannot risk saying aloud. You’d rather lose said tongue.

Everyone has long since given up attempting to shut your two idiot friends up, and so your suffering continues, unabated.

“You wanna bring up all the times someone has ditched for selfish reasons? Alright, how about we talk about all the times you skipped movie night because you ‘had a pop quiz to study for’, when really you were out sleeping with half the students in your Aquatic Magics class!”

While you might have been expecting something petty to come out of Seokjin’s mouth, you most definitely weren’t expecting that. Your head whips around at lightning speed, wide eyes locking onto Jimin who looks like he’s just been electrocuted. He sputters, eyes flicking from you to Seokjin rapidly.

Lately, in the past few months, Jimin has been calling in rainchecks for your weekly movie nights. Usually the three of you relish in the opportunity to sit back and relax, and none of you were inclined to skip, but Jimin had told the both of you that the professor he’d gotten this semester is particularly fond of giving weighted pop quizzes. Now that you’re thinking about it, he’d actually skipped more times than he’d attended this this year so far...

You hadn’t even suspected anything before now, but meeting his gaze reveals all you need to know that he’s guilty of what Seokjin said. Immediately, you’re incensed.

You selfish—

He’s lucky you’re magically silenced right now, but Seokjin can still talk, and that seems to be a problem for him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, scowling at Seokjin.

“I saw you on my cousin’s tinder and she told me all about what you’ve been up to the past few months! Said you’ve made your way through almost all of her friends at this point, and always on a Friday—our movie day!” Your mouth drops open as Seokjin flings Jimin’s dirty laundry into the air for all to see. Jungkook lets out a hiss through his teeth, wincing.

“My god, hyung, you’re a whore—”

“I would have said fuckboy,” Namjoon interrupts the youngest to supply helpfully, keen to exact some form of revenge on Jimin for the suffering he’s had to endure in the past three days.

“I am NOT a fuckboy!” Jimin squawks and his face goes so red you’re sure he’s going to combust. “I’m not just some—I have feelings! I’m capable of having feelings for someone!”

“Yeah, you’re really proving it with all your escapades you ditcher,” Seokjin folds his arms, scowling at the younger. Nice! You applaud him in your head. “Good to know your friends mean so much to you that you’ll drop them at a moment’s notice for a quick fuck!”

“How can you say that when you know that just like you, I like—” As quick and heated as he starts off, Jimin suddenly cuts off, snapping his mouth shut with wide eyes.

The car is silent, even Taehyung’s ears perked in their direction. Confusion takes up most of your brain space—had he just been about to reveal that he likes someone? At once, your heart skips a beat and squeezes painfully. Do you want to know who it is, when you also know it can’t be you?

Because why would Jimin blow off nights he is meant to spend with you to play around with other girls, if you were the one he liked?

Trying to keep your face schooled, you turn back to the front, sinking into your seat slightly and missing the way Taehyung’s gaze flicks to you as you do so. You wish that things had stayed as they were, when you’d moved on from Jimin and you only had Seokjin on the brain. It wasn’t that long ago, but unfortunately for you, it’s no longer the case. Your brain and heart have never been so overloaded.

Evidently feelings for Jimin aren’t like the chicken pox, and you can catch them again.

Even stewing in your own thoughts as you are, the prolonged silence confuses you when you notice it a few moments later. Unable to help yourself, your eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror, catching sight of the way Seokjin is sitting, scowl from earlier replaced by a look of deep thought, his brows furrowed and arms still crossed. For a minute you puzzle over why exactly he is being quiet when Jimin was the one under fire, replaying the events of the conversation over in your head once more. You freeze when it strikes you, your own face scrunching in thought.

"How can you say that when you know that just like you, I like..."

For a second you sit in shock, a slight cut of betrayal skirting around your heart. Are they serious-- both your best friends have feelings for someone and have told each other, but not you? Disregarding your own refusal to admit your crush/es to them (mainly because they are the crush/es in question), you don't think you've ever felt so betrayed in your life. If your crush wasn't incriminating to admit out loud, they would be the first to know! You focus on the feelings resulting from their treachery that are drifting over you so that the sting of knowing that they like someone else is a little less noticeable.

This trip is a disaster and as soon as you can speak again you're filing for friend divorce.

x--x--x

Oddly enough, the rest of the day is spent in almost silence. Apparently that last little argument finally taught the two of them a lesson, because they haven't uttered a word since. You caught them glaring at each other once or twice, but apart from that there was a distinct lack of JinMin bickering. Taehyung's mood was quick to turn around after that, and he made sure to turn the music up so that if they started talking again he wouldn't hear it. Jungkook and Namjoon seemed relieved that they could finally have their own conversation, and you... well, you spent the rest of the day's trip staring out the window and blasting your own music, like a moody teenager.

Needless to say, you're in a bit of a funk. One might even say you're upset.

You can't believe them! How much else do they withhold from you and only tell each other? You feel like you don't even know them right now, and do your best to make sure they know it by glaring at them every time they meet your eyes. Because of this, setting up tonight's camp teeters on being a slightly uncomfortable affair.

You're so annoyed (and hurt, but you're not acknowledging that emotion yet) that when dessert is brought out, you even go so far as to take the last piece of their favourite one. The looks on their faces as you cram the entire strawberry crepe cake slice into your mouth in one go is almost funny enough to redeem them, but by this point you've had all afternoon to stew and you're not going to be having a change of heart any time soon.

By the time it's late enough for everyone to be retiring, you've pointedly ignored the two males enough that when you look up and don't see them anywhere, you have no idea where they've gone. Apparently your confusion is in plain view for the rest of the group to see, because Namjoon snorts. When you look over, he speaks.

"They went to grab their toiletries from the car," he informs you, rocking dangerously on the camping chair he's currently seated in. "I heard one of them call the other a tart on the way over though, so they're probably fighting again by now."

You huff, wondering if they've even noticed you're upset with them. Well, it's not like they'd said anything to you-- then again, that is precisely the problem. But still, they're stupid and you don't know if they've connected the dots yet. It's not that hard though!

...Are you overreacting?

It's possible. Learning that they like someone, and intuitively knowing it isn't you, well... it's done a bit of a number on your ego and your heart, and maybe you're overcompensating. Not for the first time, you wonder if there is a potion that can numb your heart and cancel out feelings. That would be great!

"You're wondering if they've noticed you're mad at them?" Taehyung's low register surprises you when it sounds next to you-- you didn't realise that he'd moved seats. Given your attention, he continues, "They most definitely have. Although, they're kind of stupid, so they can't agree on why you are."

"To their credit, they both realise it's something they've said." Namjoon drags a hand down his face with a sigh, "Except the thing is, they've both said so damn much."

You frown, tilting your head in thought; your eyes end up staring unfocused at Jungkook where he sits across the fire, poking his finger in the dirt and making flowers sprout. Your best friends? Having some degree of self-awareness? It seems almost too good to be true.

Yoongi and Hoseok have plodded off in the midst of your zoning out, apparently going to look for a certain mushroom that has unique magical properties and happens to grow near here. Gradually, the other three sitting with you disperse and you use a minor spell to reduce the flames of the campfire to a smolder. You figure it's been long enough that Seokjin and Jimin are probably back at your tent by now (you were really zoned out just then, so you have no idea if they went past or not), so you head to the car to grab your own toiletries and go about your nightly routine. Just because you're on the road doesn't mean you can afford to neglect your skin.

Considering you expected silence and an empty space when you rounded Yoongi's car and turned towards the van, you're more than a little surprised to both see and hear people. Immediately, you halt, expecting them to turn and notice you, but they’re so wrapped up in their own conversation that they have no idea you’re there. It only takes you a moment longer to realise it’s Jimin and Seokjin, who apparently haven’t succeeded in actually getting their toiletries and have instead been talking this whole time.

Well, you don’t know if you can call it just talking.

They’re arguing again, you can tell that clearly, but for once you have no idea what is being said. What you can catch of their voices is hushed and somewhat vexed, emphasised by the occasional arm movement and finger jab. You’re tempted to step closer just so you can hear what they’re discussing so angrily, but don’t even get a chance to properly consider it before Seokjin is snapping loudly and answering your unspoken question.

“You know what we read! We both read it! So the fact you almost said in the car—”

“But I didn’t say anything,” Jimin snaps back, sounding crankier than you’ve ever heard him. His eyes are dark and he leans forward as he speaks, tense. “But you know what, if it bothers you so much, and you want it to be you, then why don’t you say something? Why haven’t you said anything before now? Nothing is stopping you!”

Seokjin’s response is lower than you can catch, heated if the tension in his shoulders is anything to go by. What Jimin says next is also spoken lower than you can hear, but Seokjin does you a favour in the next second when his voice raises in outrage.

“--you wanna know why? Huh? Maybe it’s because I realised lately that it’s not just that— I like you!”

You freeze, an ellipsis materialising in your brain in the stead of any coherent thought. The world around you and the conversation in front of you doesn’t wait for you to catch up.

Jimin blinks, mouth open in preparation to throw back a retort. He shuts it, something passing through his gaze that you can’t quite discern. He speaks a moment later, but you can only catch bits and pieces of it. “Both…? Seokjin… stupid idiot…”

The next bit comes clear as day to your ears, though.

“I like you too…”

All at once, the situation comes crashing back up to speed in your brain and everything catches up with you. Your head doesn’t really know how to process it but your heart is already ahead and shrinking in your chest.

Are you fucking kidding me.

You don’t know what comes over you, but from what you can discern it seems to be a cocktail of incredulousness, anger, and heartbreak. Ruining your cover, you stomp over to the van and march right between them to the boot, yanking it open more aggressively than you need to. The two of them exclaim in surprise to see you, but are left reeling as you simply grab your toiletries bag and turn on your heel before stomping away, ignoring them completely.

You cannot believe the cruel twist that fate has just slapped you across the face with, like a massive silicone dildo giving you a black eye. Earlier today you learned that your two best friends — who you’ve recently realised you have feelings for— actually have feelings for someone. And alright, that shit hurted, but you could have seen yourself getting over it some time in the future.

But to find out that that person they like is each other and you’ve essentially been third wheeling for the entirety of your friendship? Call you a drama queen but you have such a mix of emotions in you that you almost feel nauseous. For the sake of simplicity, you decide to label that concoction anger and wash your hands of it.

Storming back through the camp to your tent, you ignore a bewildered Yoongi and Hoseok emerging from the treeline and instead try not to rip your toiletries bag with the harsh grip your fingers have on it. Throwing it into the tent that you’d left open after setting up, you follow it inside and then turn to rip the zip down. You’re tempted to simply leave it at that before you decide that’s not enough and you hold out your hand, charming it so that it wont open for anyone but you.

Satisfied with your last spiteful act of the night, you rush through your routine and head to bed, blood boiling all through the night until you wake up the next day.

x — x — x

“Did you kick Seokjin and Jimin out of your tent last night?”

Not lucid enough to have noticed him standing next to you by the van as you munch on your cereal with half-closed eyes, you jump in fright when Namjoon’s voice crosses your ears.

And what if I did? You have the impulse to voice that thought, but the slight itch in your throat reminds you that, for the time being, you’re still silenced. At your own behest, sure, but not being able to quip sassy retorts back at people has been steadily getting at you these past four days.

Instead, you simply shrug, and Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Trick question! We know you did because they came to our tents last night pleading for us to let them in because they couldn’t get into theirs.”

Well, you suppose that considering the three of you are bound and can’t be more than a few metres apart, it’s lucky that their tents were so close to your own. You frown at what he says though, squinting at Namjoon. Your point?

As though he’s perfectly in tune with your thoughts, he readily elaborates. “So what did they do to warrant that? I didn’t realise you were that upset with them.”

His words make you remember what you’ve been trying not to think about: last night.

Your mother always told you that sleeping on it would fix almost everything, but you’d woken up in just as bad of a mood as you’d gone to bed with. It’s petty of you to be angry at them for liking each other, just because it’s not you, but there is also the fact that they’re your best friends and hadn’t told you a single thing. The betrayal of it all is one of the things that stings most, as dramatic as that is. Whatever, you’re allowed to be upset and you’re going to exercise that right.

Namjoon doesn’t get an answer because you scull the remainder of your milk and cereal in one go (leaving him in something akin to a state of shock) and promptly walk off to get dressed.

When everyone piles back into their respective cars today, it’s with a lighter air than the days previous. This is because, as Jungkook had announced excitedly before you all departed, you should be arriving at the witch’s home in a little over a few hours. Honestly, you’re ecstatic, because you don’t think you can handle being around Seokjin and Jimin for a while after this.

In your bid to think about literally anything but the two males boring holes into the back of your head with their eyes, you instead allow yourself to daydream about how things are going to be in the next few hours. The witch is probably old and nice, wise and knowledgeable. She’ll get it, and she’ll probably support you if you call the boys names. Sisterhood of witches!

x — x

Hours later and you’re standing outside of an industrial concrete home, not too dissimilar to the Cullens’ house from Twilight, except it’s overrun by plants and vines that curl and flower across the mass of grey in gorgeous patterns. The door has just slammed in front of you after Namjoon explained who you were and why you were here, and you’re now listening to the sound of many chains and bolts sliding on the other side of the wood.

The witch is nothing like you thought and you feel like your fate has fallen into some questionable hands.

When the door opens once more, now unrestricted by chains, you’re met with the sight of the woman you’d driven four days to see and plead with. Needless to say, she isn’t what you expected at all— somehow despite the fact that your professor had literally explained what to expect before you left on this little roadtrip.

She stands, somewhat short but still graceful with long inky hair that curls down her back untamed, slipping over her shoulders at the front. Her skin is the kind of bronzed that tells of time spent in the sun and out in the wilds, and the loose clothing hanging from her form is light and breezy looking. Her eyes are dark and sleekly lined for a cat-like effect, lips stained dramatic red in contrast to the rest of her chill get-up.

She’s really out here living her best life, you think in wonder.

“Lim said you’d be coming… I’m Sunmi,” she voices, staring shrewdly at all eight of you one at a time until her gaze passes over you, Jimin, Seokjin and the runes binding your wrists. Her nails tap against the doorframe that she’s braced against as she hums in thought. “...Come in.”

When she turns and moves further into her home, the rest of you hover awkwardly before kicking into gear. Yoongi and Hoseok dismiss themselves, having spotted some ‘exciting’ plants back by the treeline, and so it is just you, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon and those other two you don’t want to think about that are left to follow the witch into the house.

You follow her as she walks around the whole floor, gathering certain things as she goes. At her request, Namjoon fills her in on exactly what the issue is— he’s apparently a bit intimidated by her keen gaze and grumpy disposition, because he stutters a few times while recounting your situation to her. Taehyung and Jungkook, considering that they’re just along for the ride, spend the walk looking around in awe. Sunmi has a lot of artefacts on display in her home, some with runes you’ve never seen before in your life, not even in textbooks— kind of like the ones on your wrist.

“Alright, you three wait here,” Sunmi stops all of you in what seems to be a sitting room of sorts decorated with soft greens and white, pointing at Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook, and then the lounge. “If I’m going to fix this… curse...I will need only the three of them. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Her words are polite, skirting along the edge of being curt. Obediently, like puppies, they follow her instructions and take a seat with wide eyes. Satisfied, the witch turns to you and the idiots behind you.

“Come, in here. Be quick about it.”

Hastily, you follow her finger and enter the room situated off to the side, hearing Seokjin and Jimin scramble behind you. What greets you is dark blue walls with stars smattered across them in metallic gold, the carpet plush, dark grey. There is a desk pushed against the wall, and a large table in the middle of the room that is framed by a few plushly upholstered chairs. You get the sudden urge to cough, throat itching slightly, but hold down the urge as best as you can and ignore it for now.

Sunmi closes the door behind her, taking a moment before moving to the table and placing the items in her arms down. She then leans forward, eyes pinning all three of you in place; you hear Seokjin let out something like an ‘eep’ from just behind you, and have to remind yourself that you’re angry at him so you can’t find it cute.

“Look, I moved all the way out here so I didn’t have to deal with people,” she begins, straightening and crossing her arms. You avoid her gaze, instead focusing on the large window behind her, and then the vase of white and violet blooms in the middle of the table; you wonder if they’re responsible for the sweet, syrupy yet musky scent that accentuates the room. “Let me cut to the chase so that you leave and I can get back to what I was doing sooner.”

Somewhat taken aback by her words, you’re left blinking in surprise while she simply continues, pointing her finger at your wrists and then in the general direction of the boys.

“These runes are specific to a certain deity, one that isn’t often invoked because of how temperamental he is, but one that usually deals with things in the area of love. Specifically, unrequited.”

As she spoke, she started to move around the table, now approaching your little huddle. On instinct you take a few steps back, shifting slightly behind your two friends. You catch a glimpse of their faces as you move, and you’re surprised at how pale and stiff the two of them have suddenly become. Jimin’s silver hair begins to steam slightly, the tips of his ears flushing red.

“Now, usually what people return with after visiting him, is blessings. These, however,” she points to the runes, “Are what happens when one insults him.”

Jimin gulps, and Seokjin swallows before speaking hurriedly, “We didn’t mean to take the doll! We didn’t know it was his…”

Sunmi rolls her eyes, holding her hand out. “Give me the doll.”

You hadn’t even realised it was in Jimin’s hands until he jerked and hastily placed it in her hold. It’s as ugly as ever and you can’t help but glare at it.

“This isn’t about the doll,” Sunmi says, cocking her hip and appearing the epitome of unimpressed. “The runes reveal that the insult lies within a request for a blessing. You did something wrong, and the doll became a conduit for his retaliation. You must have been desperate to go to him of all love deities, so how on earth did you manage to mess up the simple process of requesting a blessing?”

While you're standing with a blank face, struggling to keep up with all the information being unloaded on you, the two men beside you bow their heads in something like shame. When your brain catches up, you realise with chagrin that she’s saying they went to a temple or shrine of a love deity to ask for a blessing— and bitterly, you connect that it was likely for each other.

“Wh— but we did everything right!” Jimin is the one protesting now, eyes wide and fingers fiddling. “Isn’t this because of y/n’s potion?”

Bastard! You can’t believe he’d try to pin the blame on you!

You’re beginning to simmer, throat tingling as you swallow angrily, and like he can sense it, Seokjin sends you a nervous look.

“What? This has nothing to do with a potion,” Sunmi scoffs, sending you a somewhat pitying look. You pretend it’s because she’s sympathising with you for being stuck with these two. “All the potion would have done is cover you in goo. This is—” she grabs your wrist suddenly, turning it to observe the runes on the underside before making a noise of realisation. “— this is because you went to a deity that specialises in unrequited love and asked for blessings in love that wasn’t unrequited.”

Sunmi releases your hand and you’re left reeling, quickly realising that they must have asked for blessings in love with each other— which, as you’d overheard last night and are now painfully aware of, is anything but unrequited. Oddly enough, the two boys next to you appear confused.

“No, that can’t be right—” Jimin starts, but Sunmi doesn’t let him finish.

“The runes don’t lie,” she says plainly, moving back to assemble some things before taking something that looks incriminatingly like a bong into her grasp; you don’t even remember her grabbing it on the way here. “They’re like a signature, almost. I know what I’m talking about, baby boy.”

Jimin goes bright red, hair steaming even more, although you can’t tell whether its from anger or embarrassment. Knowing him, probably both.

“Jimin,” Seokjin warns, shooting the younger a look when he opens his mouth to retort; apparently having Seokjin’s magic has made him that much more hotheaded. Seokjin shakes his head and Jimin clenches his jaw with the effort it takes him not to talk.

“Right, well, it seems like the three of you have some things to unpack— it bound you in particular for a reason. I’ll break the curse for you, but I need to drown this doll in some blessed water before I can get started.” Sunmi is already turning on her heel and walking towards the door before she even finishes. “Stay in here and don’t cause trouble.”

And then she leaves, and for some reason the resounding thud of the door swinging closed behind her is like a metaphor sealing your fate.

For the first few seconds after her departure, the room is silent. The two men beside you are frozen, but it doesn’t take long for them to pick up on the waves of anger beginning to emanate from you. They turn, sharing a similar expression of nervousness and slight fear. They look like they’d like more than anything to disappear right now, but of course that isn’t an option, especially when the curse currently afflicting you all means that whatever comes to their brain is immediately blurted into the air.

“Look, y/n, uh… we can explain.” Jimin takes a step forward, holding his hands out as though to placate you. For some reason even just that is quick to irritate you further, and you glare at him. How is he going to explain, you wonder? The witch has pretty much already spelled out everything you need to know about exactly why you’re in this situation.

They went to the shrine of some obscure love deity to receive blessings on their ‘unrequited’ love — which happened to be requited because the person they were asking for blessings for was each other — and then proceeded to insult the deity and take a doll from the shrine, which the deity then used as a conduit to curse the three of you. You get all that, loud and clear. What you really want to know is why the hell you got roped into this punishment and forced to experience all this shame and humiliation.

“Look, about the shrine— we didn’t only go for personal reasons! We knew there was a doll there that the professor would be interested in,” Seokjin hurried to elaborate, before throwing a dirty look to the side and proceeding to incriminate his friend. “Actually, the only reason we even went at all was because Jimin suggested it.”

You don’t know why they’re so eager to shift the blame; you’re happy to include both of them on your shit list.

Jimin seems to grow so incensed at Seokjin’s comment that his mouth grows that much looser and he’s speaking before the thought can even materialise in his brain. “What the fuck, dude— we both agreed to go because we both read that page of her diary that we found the cat playing with! Stop trying to pin this on me, it was a group effort you jerk!”

For a second your brain is filled with white noise as what he said sinks in.

Then you’re pissed.

So pissed, in fact, that you don’t even feel the familiar tingle in your throat when it occurs and you’re exploding before you even realise that the silencing spell has worn off.

“Are you kidding me— YOU READ MY DIARY?!” both boys flinch, eyes shooting wide as they take a physical step back. You’re so angry you’re almost shaking. This is ridiculous! Faintly, you realise that you should shut up but now that you’ve started you can’t make yourself stop.

“This is unbelievable! Not only did your stupidity and your stupid heart-ons for each other end up dragging me into being cursed, but then you went and made this the worst four days of my life!” You jab your finger at them, voice so loud it’s ringing in your own ears. “I can’t believe I like you two! I’m so fucking angry at you— when we get home I’m performing a cutting spell so I don’t have to love you anymore, so fuck BOTH of you and go kiss behind a tree or something!”

You’re slightly out of breath by the time you finish, still fuming but feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest. About a second later you realise that the spell has worn off and you just tore their heads off, but your brain is a little preoccupied with everything so you decide to deal with the mental repercussions of it later.

Both boys are silent, looking at you with wide eyes. You’re just beginning to wonder why when Jimin starts to speak, eyes shifting. “y/n did you just… did you just say—”

At his words, you reflect on exactly just came out of your mouth and instantly horror washes over you, your heart dropping through your chest.

Yeah, you like reading about accidentally confessing in fiction but now you’re suddenly feeling a lot of regret and you’re not so sure you’re a fan of it anymore.

You’re saved from having to muster a response in the current black hole that has become your brain by the door opening, Sunmi returning with three squishy, heavy-looking items in her hand that you quickly recognise as water balloons. The realisation comes a little too late, though, because you don’t even have time to move before she’s pegging them at all three of you and next thing you know, you’re standing there soaked, sputtering and shocked.

“What the hell—?!” Seokjin spits out the water that got in his mouth, gagging.

“Specially blessed water, procured by yours truly,” Sunmi says simply, moving into the room just to place the doll back on the table, along with a bowl. She reaches into it and throws something like ground stardust on you, sending you all into a coughing fit once more. “Alright, the curse is dissolved. Your speech issues should be solved, but the runes that bind you… they might take a little longer, a day or so, to wear off.”

She smacks her hands together, dusting them off as she delivers the three of you with a sly look. “I’d tell you good luck, but while I was soaking the doll I realised why the three of you in particular were bound. It’s the same as I said before— your feelings aren’t unrequited, for either of the people that you requested blessings for.”

“Either of the people?” you echo, regrettably inclined to talk now that you’re able to again. Sunmi sends you an amused if somewhat exasperated look.

“I’m sure they’ll tell you,” she says cryptically, before angling her body to the others. “Now my work is done, get out. I miss my solitude. Also, I’m keeping the doll as my fee. It’s ugly as hell and is gonna look fantastic on the wall by the dining table.”

Still processing what she said before all of that, your group is hassled out of the house in a blur and before you know it, all six of you are standing in front of her door and witnessing it slam in your faces for the second time today.

Namjoon is the first to recover and is ridiculously cheerful as he speaks; you’re confused as to why until he sends you a knowing look and you realise that he, along with the other two youngest, probably heard your loud, shameful confession to both boys. He’d never said anything about knowing of your feelings, but you knew he knew. You could feel it in your bones. Also, his expressions aren’t as impassive as he’d like to think they are.

“Right, well! Back to the car everyone! Someone go get Hope and Yoongi. The sooner we head back, the sooner I can forget the weird things I saw in that living room!” He then grabs Taehyung and Jungkook around the shoulders, turning with them and steering them away in the direction of the car. “The sooner I can also get those fish bread things at the market near my house. Gods, I miss them.”

“You have an addiction, hyung.” You hear Jungkook say, his voice growing fainter the further away he grows. You stop attempting to listen after that, turning back to the other two males who you’re surprised to see haven’t budged and are looking straight at you.

“We went to the shrine for you,” Seokjin says suddenly, before you can ask them what they want. You blink, shock smacking you in the face. “We read a page of your diary— which we didn’t realise was a page of your diary until it was too late — and saw that you liked someone, but it didn’t say who.”

“We both wanted it to be us,” Jimin intercedes, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes. His cheeks, along with Seokjin’s, are flushing pink. “Because as you no doubt heard last night, although we like each other… we liked you first. So I think you were drawn into this mess because we both like you… and each other.”

“And, um, like the witch said,” Seokjin gulps, now somewhat tentative. “Our feelings aren’t unrequited… which means that you like us too…?”

“Well, yeah,” Jimin mutters, smacking the other male on the arm. “That’s literally what she said while yelling at us, idiot.”

What they’re saying… is this a love triangle with all sides filled in? It’s a lot to process at once, and they give you a second as they watch the gears turn in your head.

“You…” you pause, struggling to put words together. Finally, you give up trying to be eloquent and slap a hand to your face, closing your eyes. “You both are so stupid— so stupid. I can’t handle this right now.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with looks of fear. You squash that emotion by jabbing your finger at them, runes still faintly on your wrist. “When we get home, I’m gonna beat you. Then, I’m gonna give you a kiss, and then I’m gonna beat you again, and then we’re going to talk about this. Got it?”

They’re fighting grins at your words, Jimin snorting as they both nod hastily.

“It’s a date,” Seokjin says cheekily, cackling when you raise your hand at him.

“Can we have a hug, y/n?” Jimin hazards a plea, stepping forward with puppy eyes directed full force at you. “It’s rough when you’re angry at us.”

“You deserved it for all the shit you two said,” you say, rolling your eyes but opening your arms nonetheless. They exclaim in happiness and dive forward, almost making the three of you fall over in their zealousness. You feel your heart ease as you hold them both in your arms and they hold you.

Maybe this trip and whole ‘getting cursed by a cranky love deity’ thing isn’t a complete disaster after all.

Then again… you still have the trip back.

a/n: to the commissioner, I hope u like it!!! thank u for reading and if u enjoyed it please lmk with a like and/or rb!! thank u !! love u !!!

623 notes · View notes

lnarizakis · 4 years

Text

SAM HIT 1K !

hey, everyone! a few days ago i hit 1k followers and i’m so excited to share with you all this news! it’s been six months of writing, posting, and making new friends, and i’ve recognized the results of all of my efforts. thank you to everyone who’s been with me on this journey, even if i met you in march, or just yesterday!

i acknowledge that in the past i’ve been selfish and self-conscious about that number, but everyday i’m grateful that i have a growing number of people who have my back, supporting me, even if it’s through a simple like or even an anonymous ask telling me they really enjoyed a particular work of mine.

and, with everything you do in life, you encounter people who will support you, make your life better, and just know how to help you up when you’ve fallen: friends. that being said, i want to write a letter to all the friends i’ve made on here since i don’t know when i’ll be able to get the next chance to . . .

TRIS , i remember seeing you appear in the comments of almost all of my posts and i just want to thank you personally for always supporting what i have. you don’t realize how much every little comment means to me, really! it always puts a smile on my face to see you comment something and it feels like i’ve accomplished something, so thank you. @tris-does-stuff

HANA , you really don’t know how happy you’ve made me when you told me you were a fan of mine. it just... shocked me? to know that i have people out there that genuinely support what i do? we only really started talking for a couple of days but i feel a strong connection between the two of us (it really may be our matching mbti types, too!) and i’m so glad to be able to call you my friend. you didn’t hear this from me, but i constantly look back at the #anon makes me happy tag and read through those anonymous messages you sent me. i love them (and you) very much! @wansseul

ELLIOT , i know you as one of my biggest supporters for coaches don’t play, and i find that really heartwarming to see that even after, what, two months since i’ve updated, you reblogged it with the tag #thank you for updating! ! i was so happy to see that, and you even proceeded to send in an ask about it afterwards too! i know we don’t really talk often—but i definitely think we should— but i know that you’re so incredibly sweet, especially after i was having that rough slump of mine i think last month. you were so kind to tell me that you’d always be here if i need to talk with someone, so thank you very much. i’m very grateful to have met you! @keiyoomi

JJ , hey, jj!!! i know we haven’t talked in a hot second, but look! i’ve reached 1k followers! i remember you were around during my coaches don’t play days, and that you always sent an ask after almost every update. sometimes i fiind myself looking back at them and smiling, knowing that you were enjoying what i wrote, so thank you very much! i want to say another thank you for being there for me when i was feeling really down in the dumps, and for taking the time out of your day to write me a message on discord. i’m so grateful that you did so, and i hope life treats you well. also! i began reading the great gatsby for school, so we should talk about it sometime hehehe. @kunimwuah

DOVE , aka uvogin anon, dovey lovey, my favorite inbox invader! i . honestly don’t know how we met. like one day u just appeared in my inbox and BAM ! we started talking! and i don’t regret every single thing i send into your inbox (even beany cock) . i always look forward to whenever you send things in my inbox and i really mean it when i say you’re my favorite inbox invader >:) it makes me so happy to see you active on tumblr and to see what you bring me everyday. i am very grateful you’re in my life, and i hope we continue to talk more and more! @fantasiesofdreams

SAL , i remember the first time i talked with you! you liked one of my posts and i was like oh she seems cool, i’m gonna follow her and congratulate her on 400 followers. and soon enough, we started tagging each other in those tag games and later we just grew closer and closer! i’m so happy that we got really close and it always brightens my day to see you on my dash; you never fail to put a smile on my face. thank you so much for being my friend and always being there when i need a good laugh! @sugaanoya

AI , ai, ai love you! i remember following you for your “be my boyfriend” series, and i hope it continues on your new blog (no promises, of course!). i also was there during your blank kita era, and it was honestly something that made me laugh out loud. i’m pretty sure i turned on notifications for you at that point because i was so invested with this drama. you’re just an insanely nice person whose kindness rivals your love for suna (or is it sakusa? your disloyalty, tsk... just kidding!!!). i know that we haven’t talked a whole lot lately but i will be sure to hop in your inbox and stay for a while some time soon. thank you so much for being my friend and i hope you stay happy and healthy! @wiintiier

KAI , aka caca wife! i remember when we started talking on rircus, and at first i didn’t really know who you were, until one fateful night when the conversation about caca happened. at that moment i knew we had similar senses of humor and i remember that i couldn’t stop laughing. it was the caca madness! if i’m being completely honest, i look up to you as a big sister that i’ve never had and i really appreciate you for that, so thank you for being in my life! @lcaita

NAOMI , aka newmie! i remember we first started talking in rircus and i want to thank you for welcoming me so kindly in the server, and especially during the first night we talked, which is when i had a problem and you helped me out immensely. i just want to say thank you for every time that you’ve helped me, talked to me, and made me feel better when i felt less than okay. i’m so glad that i’ve met you and i hope you accomplish great things in your life. @kuraomi

MICKIE , probably one of the only people on discord whose mesages i find myself laughing at a lot. you’re always brightening up the mood wherever you go, and i always find myself looking towards what you have to say today. thanks for that! i also think about that (may i say, really funny) exchange between the two of us on here when you went: “oh god i can’t believe HE’S almost dead ahhh” and i have no idea who you were talking about so i went “omg it’s sero,” and you went on this LONG RANT and it was just so funny to me!!! thanks for always putting a smile on my face. and also! thank you so, so much for suggesting that i get curtain bangs, a decision i really don’t regret! i was afraid i was going to hate them, but i find myself looking in the mirror a lot and thinking: “wow, that is a whole different person.” in a good way! so thank you very much. @tokyoghoose

GERE , aka my ex-wife... sorry about that :( . i never got to say sorry for that but the caca bond runs strong, i hope you understand. i just want you to know how much of a kind person you are, and especially how welcoming you are, too. i was so glad to be welcomed so kindly in your server and it’s become one of my favorites to talk in. i also want you to know, that especially with current times, that things will get better and i’m so glad you’re staying positive with everything going on recently. i love you for you, please remember that!!! @t-amajiki

ISSA , omg, girly pop. hahahaha!!! issa, you’re such a genuine person and i remember meeting you for the first time on rircus. you welcomed me with open arms and you were just the kindest person i met on there. you’re someone who’s just so beautiful inside and out, and the way you’re so large and in charge with your feelings is something i really admire about you. i know we don’t talk so often, but i hope we do. i want to thank you for being my friend, and especially always making me laugh! i love you very much, issa! @indigohitoshi

KYLIE , kylie!!!! the co-founder of our son, iwaizumi hajime. this was literally peak popularity and i knew i was never to get as many notifications as i did in that moment. of everyone i could have shared the account with, i am so glad that i was able to do it with you because we were able to grow closer because of that. now we have this weird inside joke that our son gets mad cooch, and that every day we must think of in another life. where are the daily in another life tiktoks??? of course, our son isn’t the only thing i associate with you. you’re such a kind, hilarious, and genuine person, and to be honest, sometimes i really worry for your wellbeing. get some more sleep, kyl!!! you deserve it. i want you to be grucchi, not tired and wanting to die. thank you so, so much for being my friend, and i am so happy that i met you! @peppermintkiddo

TO, LIKE, EVERYONE FROM RIRCUS , the best people i could ever meet. i’m sorry i couldn’t write an individual letter to all of you, since we haven’t interacted so often for me to pick out one specific memory that i could hold and cherish, but know that every time i come on rircus and talk with you, it is a moment that i will always remember! thank you so much for being my friends and i love you all so, so incredibly much. @kaoyuuuuu @reogou @haikyuu-but-low-iq @yooooooooooomi @samdwich @kenmauwus @shirasusgf @macaronnv @king-kawa

TO EVERYONE THAT CONSTANTLY LIKES, REBLOGS, OR COMMENTS ON MY WORK , you know who you are. i know who you are. i can literally tag you right now. but i think i’ll prefer to keep the anonymity. thank you so much for sharing my work, giving me feedback, and everything. it mean so much to me, especially if there’s a comment attached to the reblog. you make me do a little happy dance!!! i love you so much for what you do and i hope you continue to support me in every way possible!

FOR PEOPLE THAT I MISS/PROBABLY WON’T READ THIS

MEL , hi mel! i’m not very sure if you will read this, but i am so happy that i met you and that we began talking. i remember we began talking after i asked for people to send in memes for that meme war against my sister. i told you i won, right? well, i did. ahhaha anyways, i am very sad that we sort of grew apart and i hope that we can begin talking again soon. you were the highlight of my spring semester. i enjoyed talking with you so much. but i hope that you and your family are currently doing well and that you stay happy and healthy! i miss you very much, melon, thank you for being a part of my life!

RAENAH , hi rae! i think meeting you was a blessing, to be honest. i can’t remember a time when i was utterly annoyed by your presence, nor was i ever mad with you. you are such a kind person with such a pure heart, and during your time on tumblr you really showcased it for everyone to see. you were literally with me from literally the very beginning, during the “my name is...” days, and all i can say is that i am blessed to have met you! thank you so much for lighting up my life, talking to me whenever you made the time, and especially playing minecraft with me. it was so fun, even if it was for a short while. i hope you had as much fun as i had! again, thank you so much for supporting, befriending, and getting to know me because i will never forget you on tumblr dot com. i hope you stay well and make sure you rest often, especially with uni! @a-kaashi

MIYU , where has miyu gone? just kidding. i know you’re there. i hope you read this because i don’t want to tag your new blog. anyways, i just want you to know you make my dash ten times better. it’s literally so boring without you spicing it up, with you talking with anons and your mutuals. i definitely think i should invade your inbox more, what do you think? when i was starting on tumblr, you were a very big inspiration to me and i am very proud of all the works you write. you still are someone i look up to as a writer, because you have such a creative spirit and it makes me so happy you’re able to showcase it for everyone to see. i hope you are staying healthy and well right now, and thank you so much for being my friend!

GIGI , poop. i genuinely miss you very much, but i know that school takes a priority for you. i hope you’re doing well with your classes and that you find the man of your dreams. hopefully it is not the skater boy because you deserve someone as insanely hot as kurapika. no cap. i remember during my chrollo pfp guy craze you were there to deter me away from liking him, but let me just tell you, we’re getting closer tbh. ;) . just kidding, we really aren’t, but we’ve been talking quite a bit. i also want to tell you that you’re someone who’s made me smile with everything you say, and i find myself sometimes typing the way you do. you’re an influence, gigi! please stay happy and healthy and make sure you get lots of rest during your time at school! @gigiwrite

MARS , best for last, am i right? i’m not really sure when i first saw you on my blog, but i remember you’ve been here for a very, very long time. i think it was back in july when we first started talking. you were 🦊 anon, and it made me so happy to read that you felt comfortable enough to reveal yourself! from there, i knew we had a bond from the way we interacted with one another. you’re just such a kind person and you show that to everyone you meet. it’s a quality i wish i had in myself and i really look up to you for your genuinity. sometimes i feel like i don’t thank you enough for how kind you are to me, but just know that with every time i talk i’m always grateful that you’re in my life and that i’ve met you. i know you’re someone i can always lean on and i hope you see me the same. thank you so much for being in my life; you’re someone who means a lot to me. @maru5hka

TO BASICALLY EVERYONE HERE

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1K!!!! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. i am so grateful for each and every one of you; you guys are so hot and sexy. i am so grateful to have met you all, even if it was just a simple “you’re added to the taglist!” or a “thank you so much!” i count it as you being my friend and you interacting with me. you guys aren’t my followers; you’re my friends. thank you so much for being my friend and being here for all of my weird shenanigans i have up my sleeve, whether it be my meme war against my sister, my obsession for blue lock, and my huge crush on chrollo pfp guy. well, here’s to me for being sappy and here’s to many more!

#sam’s 1k party #no im not doing anything i just wanted to give it a label #discord server maybe

50 notes · View notes

seanfalco · 4 years

Text

Catch me in the Club | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader (same as from Playing with Fire) Word Count: 1844 Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive dialogue

a/n: So this is completely self-indulgent and honestly ridiculous, but ever since seeing the new season 2 promotional posters and learning more about the plot, plus reading this post about Klaus running a strip joint in the comics (which who knows if it’ll even be part of the show or not), I couldn’t get this scene out of my head. Basically just an excuse to write my Reader and Klaus being 60s’ fashion icons and the shameless flirts that they are. Also titles are harddd. Don’t laugh at me lol.

—

Pride might not be the first emotion one would connect with the idea of a strip club, but damn if you weren’t proud of what you’d built — you and Klaus, together.

Finding yourselves stranded in the middle of Dallas in the year 1960 after jumping back in time, you’d come out on the other side very much alone, only Klaus’s hand still clasped in yours; the rest of the Hargreeves nowhere to be found. Thinking them dead, the two of you eventually settled down, making a new life for yourselves, deciding if you were stuck there then you might as well at least make the best of it.

As you emerged from the back dressing room to walk the main floor, you bobbed your head to the music blaring over the speakers, singing snatches of the lyrics under your breath as your gaze swept the room -- at least you’d been stranded in an era with good music, you thought.

In the hazy light several topless dancers gyrated and twirled effortlessly around their poles as patrons watched hungrily from the bar, some nursing beers while others stared transfixed, completely forgetting the drinks growing warm in front of them. You had to admit, there was a certain elegance to the way they moved, and you often found yourself staring, probably more often than you would admit; picking up certain moves to make use of in the bedroom later -- Klaus never complaining.

Speaking of which, you spotted Klaus behind the large circular bar filling the center of the room and you ambled toward him, catching his eye before leaning flirtatiously over the smooth shiny surface.

“Hey you,” you greeted, grinning up at him as he met you with a roguish grin of his own.

You had to admit that the 60s’ surprisingly suited him. He’d let his hair grow long; his silky brunette curls artfully framing his thin face as they cascaded down, brushing his shoulders. You probably spent about half your time running your fingers through it, relishing just how soft it was and the appreciative sighs it coaxed from Klaus’s lips as he practically melted under your touch.

The long teal and cream coloured Nehru jacket he wore today was one of your favourites; his fashion sense just as eclectic and eye catching in the past as it was in the future and the pair of you had swiftly become connoisseurs of a strange mix of hippy and mod fashion which on anyone else would probably just look like a hot mess, but for some reason it worked for you.

The one thing you couldn’t stand was staring you right in the face at the moment and you tugged on it with a frown as you batted your lashes at your boyfriend. For some ungodly reason you still couldn’t fathom why Klaus had decided to trade in his dashing goatee for the long scraggly abomination that currently decorated his chin and though you tolerated it as best you could, you never missed an opportunity to remind him of your displeasure toward it.

“Hey you, yourself,” Klaus replied with a chuckle, leaning in closer, gazing at you dreamily.

“How goes the front of house?” You asked, slipping up to sit on the bar next to him, planting your hands behind you and leaning back to gaze around the room.

“Oh, the usual,” he mused, “just a lot of horny guys watching some half naked women dance for them.” You snorted in response, glancing over at him. “Everything alright backstage?”

“Just a little drama, nothing I couldn’t take care of,” you answered and Klaus nodded.

“The same old drama?” he asked.

“The same,” you said, rolling your eyes. Two of the women were notorious for not getting along, and while you attempted to keep them apart as often as possible they were both drama queens and liked to start shit over the pettiest things.

“Soooo,” Klaus prompted, his hand slipping toward your bare leg; crossed over your knee, your foot bouncing idly. “Are we still on for dinner later tonight?”

When his finger traced along the length of your thigh from the hem of your miniskirt down to your knee you glanced down, your lips twitching.

“Of course,” you replied, pointedly taking his hand from your leg with a teasing smirk and turning it to trace the ‘hello’ tattooed on his palm with your finger. “Is there anything in particular you’re craving for dessert?”

You could practically feel the shiver as it ran through Klaus and your smirk widened.

“I think you know exactly what I’m craving,” he purred in your ear, returning the favour as a thrill ran through you as well, warmth and want filling you.

Unfortunately there were still several hours left til your little date, and you were now feeling incredibly impatient.

Opening your mouth to make a suggestive retort the sound of raised voices caught your attention and your eyes quickly sought out the source of the disturbance, cutting you off. Across the bar a rather rowdy patron had stood, grabbing one of the strippers and yanking her toward him, attempting to cop a feel. Without missing a beat you jumped down from the bar, your face a thunderhead as you stalked across the room.

“Hey!” you snapped, stepping between the man and the dancer, murder in your eyes. “There is a strict no touching policy in place here. So get your hands off.”

The man swayed, obviously drunk, his eyes sliding from the woman behind you to you, his gaze lazily traveling downward before finally coming back to your face before he released his grasp on the performer.

”Touch any of my employees again and you’ll regret it,” you growled, your voice lowering dangerously as you met his gaze. As you confronted him the woman quickly slipped away, hurrying to the back room to compose herself.

“Oh, and what are you gunna do about it, missy? Throw me out? I’ll just come back tomorrow,” the smug bastard slurred, laughing raucously, glancing over at his buddies. Crossing his arms over his chest he turned back around, leering at you.

Having caught up to you, Klaus appeared, sweeping in to stand at your shoulder, silently offering you backup in case you needed it.

“No,” you replied, no trace of amusement in your voice as you glared the man down, “first I’ll break your hand, then I’ll throw you out myself.”

“Oooh, real scary!” he laughed, glancing over his shoulder for support from his friends. “I’d like to see you try, girly.”

His laughter cut off with a yelp as you snatched his wrist, twisting til you felt resistance, the man’s surprise turning to a panicked whine and his eyes locked on Klaus at your shoulder.

“Hey man, w-what the fuck? C-control your woman, why don’tcha!” he cried, trying to pull away from your grasp, but you only wrenched harder.

Klaus looked from the man to you, a small smile playing at his lips and he shrugged lightly. “That’s not really how it works around here,” he explained, the look in his emerald eyes decidedly proud. “She’s the boss and what she says goes, so unless you uh, want the use of your hand, which ooh that looks painful,” he exclaimed, his brows drawing down in faux concern as he covered his mouth sarcastically with his hand, “then I suggest you do as the fraulein says.”

The man gaped at Klaus, his mouth moving soundlessly, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

Lifting your eyebrows impatiently you gave his wrist one more yank before he was cracking. “Alright, alright!” he cried, his voice climbing in pitch, “I’ll go!”

“See that you do, and if you try to come back, you’ll find we won’t be as welcoming.” With a tight smile you released him and he instantly stumbled back, pulling his arm tight against his chest, cradling it as he backed away.

“You and your girlfriend are fucking crazy, man!” he exclaimed before stumbling for the door, bumping blindly into several other patrons on his way and weaving through the two bouncers who were now looking your way. Turning your fiery gaze on the man’s group of friends they quickly turned back to the bar, their shoulders hunched as if to say they wanted none of their fellow’s problems.

Clapping your hands as if satisfied you turned to Klaus, finding an awe filled grin on his face.

“I love it when you threaten people, [Y/N], it’s so hot,” he murmured, reaching for your arm and pulling you close.

“Oh? You like that, huh?” you asked wryly, cocking an eyebrow up at him. “Too bad we’re on the clock right now.”

Klaus shrugged. “Y’know, I really don’t care,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss, hooking his finger under your chin to tilt your face up.

When you pulled back you frowned slightly. “Klaus, you know I love you, but… when the fuck are you gunna lose that God awful thing?” you huffed, tugging once more on his long beard.

“Aw, but you love me more than you hate my beard,” he pointed out, his lips twisting cheekily. “I’d say that's a real testament to our relationship, you know?”

“Mhmm, and one of these mornings you’re gunna wake up to the damned thing cut off,” you replied, turning to walk back to the office.

“H-hey! Hey hey hey,” Klaus exclaimed hastily, hurrying to catch up to you, your airy fringed kimono billowing out behind you in your haste before he caught your wrist, yanking you around and back toward him, catching you in his arms to hold you in place.

“I promise I’ll trim my beard once we get home tonight, okay?” Klaus relented sincerely. “Will that make you happy, [Y/N]?” he asked, staring down at you with those damn effective puppy dog eyes of his.

“Have I told you yet today how much I love you?” you asked, a smile cracking through.

“Hmmm, I do seem to recall, vaguely, you saying something to that effect this morning, while we were in bed,” he mused, “but I’d love to hear it again, if you please,” he said hopefully.

Resting your arms around his shoulders you grinned up at him, your foul mood instantly evaporating and you were past caring who saw -- it wasn’t as if your employees and regulars weren’t used to this sort of thing by now anyways.

“Klaus, I love you, you wonderful, wonderful man. Now, we really need to get back to work.”

The silly grin that lit up his face at your words was more than worth it and he laid a quick peck to your lips before pulling away reluctantly.

“Yes, [Y/N], I am your willing slaveee!” he called, bowing to you with a flourish. “Until later,” he drawled, waggling his eyebrows at you suggestively before he swanned off, and you shook your head fondly as you watched him, biting your lip to keep from grinning too much before you too turned to get back to work as well.

#the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves imagines #tua s2 spoilers #??? not really spoilers idk #my writing

115 notes · View notes

anhed-nia · 4 years

Text

BLOGTOBER 10/7/2020

I missed THE GOLDEN GLOVE at Fantastic Fest last year. It was one of my only regrets of the whole experience, but it was basically mandatory since the available screenings were opposite the much-hyped PARASITE. As annoying as that sounds, it was actually a major compliment, since what could possibly serve as a consolation prize for the most hotly anticipated movie of the year? Needless to say, I heard great things, but I could never have imagined what it was actually like. I'm still wrapping my mind around it.

Between 1970 and 1975, an exceptionally depraved serial killer named Fritz Honka murdered at least four prostitutes in Hamburg's red light district. Today, we tend to think of the archetypal serial killer in terms of ironic contradictions: The public is attracted by Ted Bundy's dashing looks and suave manner, and John Wayne Gayce's dual careers as politician and party clown. Lacking anything so remarkable, we associate psychopathy with Norman Bates' boy-next-door charm, and repeat "It's always the quiet ones" with a smirk whenever a new Jeffrey Dahmer or Dennis Nilsen is exposed to the public. The popular conception of a bloodthirsty maniac is not the fairytale monster of yore, but a wolf in sheep's clothing, whose hygienic appearance and lifestyle belie his twisted desires. In our post-everything world, the ironic surprise has become the rule. In this light, THE GOLDEN GLOVE represents a refreshing return to naked truth.

To say that writer-director Fatih Akin's version of the Fritz Honka story is shocking, repulsive, and utterly degenerated would be a gross understatement. We first meet the killer frantically trying to dispose of a corpse in his filthy flat, wallpapered with porno pinups, strewn with broken toys, and virtually projecting smell lines off of the screen. One's sense of embodiment is oppressive, even claustrophobic, as the petite Honka tries and fails to collapse the full dead weight of a human corpse into a garbage bag, before giving up and dismembering it, with nearly equal difficulty. The scene is appalling, utterly debased, and yet nothing is as shocking as the killer's visage. When he finally turns to look into the camera, it's hard to believe he's even human: the rolling glass eye, the smashed and inflated nose, the tombstone teeth and cratered skin, are almost too extreme to bear. Actually, suffering from a touch of facial blindness, I had to stare intently at Honka's face for nearly half the movie before I could fully convince myself that I was, in fact, looking at an elaborate prosthetic operation used to transform 23 year old boy band candidate Jonas Dassler into the disfigured 35 year old serial murderer.

Though West Germany remained on a steady economic upturn beginning in the 1950s and throughout the 1970s, you wouldn't know it from THE GOLDEN GLOVE. If Honka's outsides match his insides, they are further matched by his stomping grounds in the Reeperbahn, a dirty, violent, booze-soaked repository for the dregs of humanity. Though its denizens may come from different walks of life, one thing is certain: Whoever winds up there, belongs there. Honka was the child of a communist and grew up in a concentration camp, yet he swills vodka side by side with an ex-SS officer, among other societal rejects, in a crumbling dive called The Golden Glove. The scene is an excellent source of hopeless prostitutes at the end of their career, who are Honka's prime victims, as he is too frightful-looking to ensnare an attractive young girl. These pitiful women all display a peculiarly hypnotic willingness to go along with Honka, no matter how sadistic he becomes; this seems to have less to do with money, which rarely comes up, and more to do with their shared awareness that for them, and for Honka too, it's been all over, for a long time.

Not to reduce someone’s performance to their physical appearance, but ???

To call Dassler's portrayal of Honka "sympathetic" would be a bridge too far, but it is undeniably compelling. He supports the startling impact of his facial prostheses with a performance of rare intensity, a full-body transformation into a person in so much pain that a normal life will never become an option. His physical vocabulary reminded me of the stage version of The Elephant Man, in which the lead actor wears no makeup, but conveys John Merrick's deformities using his body alone. Although there is an abundance of makeup in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, Dassler's silhouette and agonized movements would be recognizable from a mile away. In spite of his near-constant screaming rage, the actor manages to craft a rich and convincing persona. During a chapter in which Honka experiments with sobriety, we find a stunning image of him hunched in the corner of his ordinarily chaotic flat, now deathly still, his eyes gazing at nothing as cigarette smoke seeps from his pores, having no idea what to do with himself when he isn't in a rolling alcoholic rampage. The moment is brief but haunting in its contrast to the rest of the film, having everything to do with Dassler's quietly vibrating anxiety.

Performances are roundly excellent here, not that least of which are from Honka's victims. The cast of middle-aged actresses looking their most disastrous is hugely responsible for the film's impact. These are the kinds of performances people call "brave", which is a euphemism for making audiences uncomfortable with an uncompromising presentation of one's own self, unvarnished by any masturbatory solicitation. Among these women is Margarete Tiesel, herself no stranger to difficult cinema: She was the star of 2012's PARADISE: LOVE, a harrowing drama about a woman who copes with her midlife crisis by pursuing sex tourism in Kenya. Her brilliant, instinctive performance as one of Honka's only survivors--though she nearly meets a fate worse than death--makes her the leading lady of a movie that was never meant to have one.

So, what does all this unpleasantness add up to, you might be asking? It's hard to say. THE GOLDEN GLOVE is a film of enormous power, but it can be difficult to explain what the point of it is, in a world where most people feel that the purpose of art is to produce some form of pleasure. This is the challenge faced by difficult movies throughout history, like THE GOLDEN GLOVE's obvious ancestors, HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, MANIAC and THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE. Describing unremitting cruelty with relentless realism is not considered a worthy endeavor by many, even if there is real artistry in your execution; some people will even mistake you for advocating and enjoying violence and despair, as we live in a world where huge amount of movie and TV production is devoted to aspirational subjects. (The fact that people won't turn away from the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies, no matter how monotonous and condescending they become, should tell you something) How do you justify to such people, that you want to make or see work that portrays ugliness and evil with as much commitment as other movies seek to portray love, beauty, and family values? Why isn't it enough to say that these things exist, and their existence alone makes them worth contemplation?

A rare, perhaps exclusive “beautiful image” in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, from Fritz Honka’s absurd fantasies.

You may detect that I have attempted to have this frustrating conversation with many people, strangers, enemies, and friends I love and respect. I find that for some, it is simply too hard to divorce themselves from the pleasure principle. I don't say this to demean them; some hold the philosophy that art be reserved for beauty, and others have a more literary feeling that it's ok to show characters in grim circumstances, as long as the ultimate goal is to uplift the human spirit. Even I draw the line somewhere; I appreciate the punk rebellion of Troma movies as a cultural force, but I do not enjoy watching them, because I dislike what I perceive as contempt for the audience and the aestheticization of laziness--making something shitty more or less on purpose. A step or three up from that, you land in Todd Solondz territory, where you find materially gorgeous movies whose explicit statement is that our collective reverence for a quality called "humanity" is based on nothing. I like some of those movies, and sometimes I even like them when I don't like them, because I'm entranced by Solondz's technical proficiency...and maybe, deep down, I'm not completely convinced about "humanity", either. However, I don't fight very hard in arguments about him; I understand the objections. Still, I've been surprised by peers who I think of as bright and tasteful, who absolutely hated movies I thought were unassailable, like OLDBOY and WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN. In both cases, the ultimate objection was that they accuse humans of being pretentious and self-deceptive, aspiring to heroism or bemoaning their victimhood while wallowing in their own cowardice and perversity. Ok, I get it...but, not really. Why isn't it ever wholly acceptable to discuss, honestly, what we do not like about ourselves?

The beguiling thing about THE GOLDEN GLOVE is that, although it is instantly horrifying, is it also an impeccable production. The director can't help showing you crime scene photos during the ending credits, and I can't really blame him, when his crew worked so hard to bring us a vision of Fritz Honka's world that approaches virtual reality. But it isn't just slavishly realistic; it is vivid, immersive, an experience of total sensory overload. Not a square inch of this movie has been left to chance, and the product of all this graceful control is totally spellbinding. I started to think to myself that, when you've achieved this level of artifice, what really differentiates a movie like THE GOLDEN GLOVE from something like THE RED SHOES? I mean, aside from their obvious narrative differences. Both films plunge the viewer into a world that is complete beyond imagination, crafted with a rigor and sincerity that is rarely paralleled. And, I will dare to say, both films penetrate to the depths of the human soul. What Fatih Akin finds there is not the same as what Powell and Pressburger found, of course, but I don't think that makes it any less real. Akin's film is adapted from a novel by Heinz Strunk, and apparently, some critics have accused Akin of leaving behind the depth and nuance of the book, to focus instead on all that is gruesome about it. This may be true, on some level; I wouldn't know. For now, I can only insist that on watching THE GOLDEN GLOVE, for all its grotesquerie, I still got the message.

#blogtober #2020 #the golden glove #fatih akın #heinz stronk #jonas dassler #margarete tiesel #difficult cinema #horror #slasher #serial killer #period piece #adaptation #historical #biopic #fritz honka #i may have been watching a lot of powell and pressburger movies recently #sorry...

23 notes · View notes

master-thief-gray-shadow · 4 years

Text

Today

Summary: Ten years. Ten birthdays.

Notes: To anybody who followed me for Symphogear stuff, I must apologize but I am returning to the regularly-scheduled Bushiverse posting with a fic in honor of (second? I’m never sure) best girl’s birthday. Because Kaoru deserves good things.

Today, he is eight years old.

He’s seated at the head of the table, an elaborately decorated layer cake studded with candles placed in front of him. It’s like all of the previous birthdays he remembers. But unlike the ones in the past, where the guests were mostly family members he didn’t know he even knew, or worse, his parents’ work associates, the people in front of him are friendly, familiar. They smile expectantly at him, the light from the candles reflecting in the soft lavender eyes they all seem to share. The eyes of the girl sitting right next to him are the ones that seem to be shining the brightest, though.

“Kao-chan,” She says, leaning forward, “aren’t you going to make a wish?”

He turns to look at her, and he can’t help as a smile nearly splits his face in half.

“Y-yeah, of course,” He says as tears start to prick at his eyes. “I’ve just...I’ve never had a birthday with a friend before.” He rubs his eyes as the tears roll down his cheeks.

“Silly Kao-chan,” She laughs. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m just,” he sniffles, “I’m just so happy!” There are practically waterfalls flowing from both his eyes now. “Thank you so much Chii-chan! This is the best birthday I’ve ever had!”

He blows out the candles. He wishes that he can spend every birthday, if not with her, with friends like her who he loves.

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

Today, he is nine years old.

At his insistence, today he is not seated at the head of the table. He is not seated at a table at all. Instead he is in a red velvet theater seat. She is sitting next to him, but at the moment he isn’t registering it. He is transfixed by the action on the stage.

The actors, adorned in elaborate and vibrant costumes straight out of a painting, are passionately retelling a timeless story of love and tragedy. Through staged swordfights, through song, through impassioned dances that were lit in such a way to make it seem like the two leads are the only people in the world. The male lead is so princely and handsome, but apparently he, as well as all the other characters, is played by a woman. He never knew that a woman could look like that. He never knew a woman could be a prince.

It’s the final act. The couple lies side by side, fingers interlaced, dead. Driven to their doom by a love that could never be. He has been crying for much of the runtime, but now he is almost bawling.

The curtain soon falls. There is a roar as the audience gives an ovation, and meanwhile he continues to cry. She begins tugging at his hand as they prepare to leave the theatre.

“What’s wrong, Kao-chan?” She asks as soon as her mother escorts them into the lobby. “Didn’t you like the play?”

“I did,” He says through choked sobs, “but it was so sad! Why couldn’t they be together?” He buries his face in his hands as he cries. She rubs his back reassuringly as they leave.

On the way home all he can think is that this is the best birthday he’s ever had so far.

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

Today, he is ten years old.

Since she couldn’t find time to see another play this year, there is a party at his house like there normally is. Apparently her career is starting to really take off. She can’t seem to find the time for things like that any more. He doesn’t mind. He’s happy for her. As long as he gets to be by her side.

The party is going smoothly when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see her, looking oddly serious.

“Chii-chan? What’s wrong?”

There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I need to talk with you,” She says, grabbing his hand. “Alone.” She pulls him along through the crowd of people, and he is too confused to resist.

At last they are in a more isolated and quiet corner of the house. Somewhere upstairs, where nobody is likely to bother them. She gazes nervously down at her feet. This is so unlike her, he thinks. Normally she’s so confident. What does she have to say to him?

“Kao-chan,” She says, finally. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can hang out anymore.”

His eyes go wide as the shock of what she’s telling him hits in full force. “What? Why?”

Her eyes meet his, and they’re full of regret. “You know how I’ve been getting more roles lately, right?” He nods. “Well, soon I’m going to be doing that full time.” She looks down at her feet again. “Kao-chan, I’m sorry.”

“Chii-chan…” He steps forward and wraps her into a hug. “This is great, Chii-chan. I’m so happy for you!”

He is happy. He’s glad that she’s finally finding success doing what she loves. But at the same time she’s leaving him. He’s going to be alone again.

He tries his hardest not to cry onto her shoulder.

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

Today, he is eleven years old.

For the first time in three years, she’s not with him on his birthday. Instead it’s back to the way it was before. He is seated at the head of the table, cake with candles in front of him. He is surrounded by adults he doesn’t even know. He scans the crowd.

He thinks he sees a flash of blonde hair. He blinks, and it’s gone.

He looks down at the candles and blows them out. He wishes he could see her again.

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

Today, he is twelve years old.

He has not seen her in person in two years. But he has seen her on TV. Plenty of times. He watches her shows regularly, and he takes notes. He’s decided he wants to follow her down that path, to become an actor like her. Maybe that way he can see her again.

It’s the same as last year. Head of the table, cake with candles. But this year he has been trying to at least talk to some of the adults. They work with his father, after all. They know where the work is for an actor. If he gets to know them maybe he can move up.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t like the feeling he gets from a lot of them. They seem cold and unfeeling. Not friendly at all. They intimidate him.

He blows out the candles. He makes the same wish as he did last year, but this time he adds that he would like it to be on stage.

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

Today, he is thirteen years old.

All day he has been told that he is going to be a man soon. Especially by his father, who seemed excited by the prospect, in his own muted and stoic way. All this talk unsettles him. He’s not sure why, it just does.

He’s doing what he did last year, talking amicably to the party guests despite their intimidating demeanor. He’s gotten better at it. He’s learned how to adopt a sort of persona, a character he can put on in day-to-day life. Apparently it’s called method acting. The character he’s chosen is that of a prince, charming and charismatic, someone who could win anyone over with a few well-spoken words. The character is a bit rough at the moment, but he’s working on it.

He is at the head of the table. The cake with candles is in front of him. Before he can blow them out his father calls everyone’s attention. Apparently he’s proposing a toast.

“To my son Kaoru,” He says, raising his glass, “who soon will be entering manhood.” All of the other guests raise their glasses and cheer. But for some reason he feels sick. His stomach is twisting itself into knots and he’s starting to wonder if he might throw up if he tries to blow the candles out. Without thinking he gets up from his seat and pushes through the crowd of people, and makes a blind dash as soon as he has the room.

He locks himself in the bathroom, breathing heavily. He slowly approaches the sink and leans over it, waiting for his breathing to steady. After a moment he looks up and catches his reflection in the mirror. Something is off about it. He leans closer.

There is a series of odd dark spots on his chin. Tiny ones, only noticeable if one were to look closely. He runs a finger over them, noting the slightly scratchy texture.

It unsettles him. He’s not sure why, it just does.

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

Today, she is fourteen years old.

She has been shaving diligently ever since she figured out how. Her face is her most important asset, and any hair on it is unsightly. Her father has praised her for being so dedicated to being clean-shaven and respectable, but his praise comes from a place of misunderstanding. She isn’t shaving to be what he calls “respectable.”

The party this year had gone much the same as the last, with additional talk of how tall she had been getting. That part of puberty, at least, does not bother her. It isn’t unusual for princes to be tall, after all.

The guests have cleared out. The house is mostly empty once again. Which means that it’s a perfect opportunity to tell her parents that she had done a lot of thinking in the past year. She knows who she is now, and they should know too.

“Father, Mother,” She calls to them as they sit in the den, unwinding after the party with glasses of scotch. “I need to tell you something.”

“Do you know what high school you want to go to?” Her father says, only half looking up at her. Of course he immediately assumes it’s about her career. He can never seem to think about her in any other terms.

“Yes, but it’s not about that.” She has his attention now. He looks up at her fully. Both of her parents’ eyes are on her. “It’s a personal thing.”

“What is it Kaoru?” Her mother says. Her voice is gentle and reassuring.

She takes a deep breath and straightens her stance. She closes her eyes before opening them again.

“I don’t want to be your son anymore,” She says. Her father nearly drops the decanter.

“What?” He says as he stands up. His tone is tranquil and calm, but there is an undercurrent of rage in it that sends a shiver down her spine. “What brought this on? Why are you casting aside your family name like this?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant.” His terrifying aura is crushing any attempts at appearing strong. Her father did not get angry often, but when he did it was nothing short of a nightmare. “I mean I want to be your daughter instead.”

“Kaoru.” His voice is so cold. “You are my son. That’s who you are.”

“I’m not!” She raises her voice in a feeble attempt to match his intensity. “I’m not a boy! I’m a girl who was born with a boy’s body!”

“Enough.” He hasn’t raised his voice at all, yet it’s booming, deafening. “You are at a certain age where you will play make-believe. I understand this.”

“But I--”

“Kaoru.” He stares her dead in the eyes. “You must understand that you are not actually a girl.”

Her legs are trembling. Her voice won’t come out no matter how hard she tries to force it. She’s been defeated. Her head hangs as she turns and leaves the room. She slinks off to her bedroom, and cries into her pillow until the small hours of the morning.

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

Today, she is fifteen years old.

The cheap kotatsu she bought broke last week. She can’t afford to get it repaired, or replaced. That money goes towards rent. For now she sits at the broken kotatsu, now functionally little more than an end table, wrapped in blankets in hopes of fending off the cold. A cupcake with a single lit candle is in front of her. In a hoarse, cracking voice, she sings. She’s slightly disappointed in herself. She’s been training her singing voice so diligently lately, she should be at performance quality. But maybe it’s hard to reach that quality when one is choking back tears.

She finishes singing and blows out the candle, and wishes that she wasn’t so alone in the world. She wishes she had friends to celebrate with. She wishes she could see that girl again for real, not just on TV.

She eats the cupcake in silence. It’s the first thing she’s eaten today. She wonders what will kill her first, cold or starvation.

She wonders if anyone would even miss her.

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

Today, she is sixteen years old.

One of her classmates was acting strange today. Which is saying something, since she always acts a little strange. Normally she’s almost aggressively friendly toward everyone, but today she had been uncharacteristically quiet and secretive. She spoke to others in hushed whispers, as if afraid of being overheard. But only to others. Her classmate has been conspicuously avoiding her.

She wonders if she’s done something wrong. She’s been making good progress at this school, having nearly made it through most of the school year. She doesn’t want to have to start over. Her heart sinks a little.

At least there’s the drama club. No matter what, she feels like she has a place there. She opens the clubroom door, her usual dramatic greeting on the tip of her tongue.

“SURPRISE!”

Her words freeze in her throat as she is bombarded with confetti. She can only stand in the doorway, stunned, taking in the sight of her smiling clubmates surrounded by balloons and streamers.

“Um, forgive me, but…” She struggles to find her words, still recovering from the initial shock. “What is the occasion?”

“What? You mean you forgot your own birthday?” Her eyes widen as the crowd parts to reveal her classmate. She’s grinning broadly, the usual sparkle in her bright green eyes back in full force.

“Hina?” Hina walks up to her almost expectantly. “But...how did you know?”

“Well, I’ve been learning everyone’s birthdays in 2-A so I can surprise them, but like, secretly, because it can’t be a surprise if they know, right? And that’s not boppin’ at all, right?” She jabs a thumb in the direction of the mousy-looking bespectacled girl in the corner of the room. “You hang out with Maya-chan all the time so I just asked her because I knew she’d know!”

Maya blushes. “Sorry Kaoru-san,” She says, scratching the back of her head. “She was really persuasive.”

She winces internally. Maya is a sensitive type, and Hina a forceful one. She feels a tug on her arm, as if to remind her of that fact.

“Hey, come on!” Hina drags her further into the room, toward a table with a snack spread surrounding a rich-looking chocolate cake. The cake has a series of lit candles arranged around its edges in a circle. “Blow ‘em out! Make a wish, Kaoru-kun!”

She’s been good about not crying in public lately. A few tender stage tears, something to enhance the drama of any given moment, was all she’d usually let out. But now there are real tears welling up, and it’s getting harder to hold them back.

“Ah, but before I do…” She says, internally proud of herself for being able to keep her voice steady in this moment. “Thank you, my dear little kittens, for this wonderful surprise. I shall treasure it for as long as I live!”

She would be right to treasure it, she thinks as she blows out the candles. For the first time in her life she truly feels like the party is for her.

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

Today, she is seventeen years old.

The drama club’s party was once again lovely this year. She’s already eaten, but since it’s her birthday she’s decided she wants to treat herself. Perhaps that ramen place in the shopping district, with the kitsune udon she only wishes she could eat every day. She steps out past the school gate, her mind hazy with the thought of warm broth in her belly.

She is pulled from her thoughts as a limousine pulls up in front of her. The door opens, and out steps a woman in a suit and dark sunglasses.

“Seta-san,” She says cooly, “please step into the vehicle. Your presence is requested.” She gestures towards the open door.

Her heart races a little. She knows this suit, yes. She, and others, work for the leader of the band she plays for. But usually when they’re around said band leader is also present. It’s possible that she’s waiting in the car, but if she was she would probably have made her presence known by now. Regardless, it’s clear she’s being summoned somewhere, and is in no position to refuse.

“Very well,” She says, tossing her hair before stepping into the car. Despite her nerves she at least needs to appear confident. It’s what she does as an actor. Upon seating herself inside she finds two other suited women waiting for her. “Ah, where is Kokoro? I must assume she sent you.”

“Tsurumaki-san’s whereabouts are unimportant right now,” One of them says. She reaches into one of her pockets and pulls out a strip of red fabric. “Put this on,” She says as she holds it out.

“Ah,” She says as she takes the fabric into her hands. The material is soft and smooth. Velvet. “How thoughtful to get me a tie for my birthday.”

“It’s a blindfold,” The suit says. “Put it on.”

A thin layer of sweat is forming on her forehead. What is going on? She knows she can trust Kokoro, even when her whims are outrageous, as they often are, but being in the dark like this is making her stomach tie itself in knots. Regardless, she ties the blindfold around her head and feels the limousine begin to move.

The ride feels longer than it probably is. The silence of the cabin and her lack of vision means that all she can focus on is the rapid pounding of her heart. There is sweat forming on her palms. She keeps her breathing steady, having trained herself not to buckle under stage fright, but the anxiety inside her only burns hotter with each passing minute. Finally she feels the vehicle pull to a stop. There is the sound of the door opening.

“Please step out, Seta-san. We have arrived.”

She gingerly exits the vehicle, inhibited by her blindness. Upon finding the ground she places her feet flatly on it and stands. She feels a calloused hand take her own.

“Please follow me. Do not let go.”

She follows in silence. Normally she would have some kind of in-character comment prepared for any given situation, but she’s just so lost. She’s too nervous. She feels like her nerves are finally getting the better of her. Her stomach feels heavy. The suit leading her comes to a stop and lets go of her hand. A moment later the blindfold is untied and falls away.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Before she even has a chance to take in her surroundings she’s nearly tackled by two smaller bodies. She barely manages to keep her footing as she looks down to see two girls hugging her waist, staring up at her with huge, bright smiles.

“A-ah, Kokoro, Hagumi! My dearest little kittens!” She reaches down to pat them on their heads. “What...what a pleasant surprise to see you this evening!” The shock is making it a little hard for her to get back into character.

“Sorry about the whole blindfold thing,” Another girl says as she approaches them. Despite her tired appearance, there was a glimmer of genuine joy in her pale gray eyes. “Kokoro was really into the whole surprise thing and wanted it to be perfect.”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all Misaki,” She says as she manages to free herself. At least not more trouble than it was worth, certainly.

“Kaoru-san!” A soft, airy voice calls from over by a long table that she has only just noticed. It’s covered in all manner of expensive looking food, and at the center is a large chocolate cake that looks oddly similar to the one the drama club got her. She wonders what the deal with that is. “We got you sachertorte, since it’s your favorite!”

“Why thank you, Kanon,” She says as she draws closer to the cake. So wait...is this what sachertorte is? Has she been eating it for her birthday this whole time? She hadn’t been expecting to learn something new today, but here she is. “And thank you, everyone.” She turns around to look at her bandmates. Tears are again welling up in her eyes, but she feels okay letting them out now.

“Kaoru?” Kokoro bounds over to her. “Kaoru what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She looks so deeply concerned. “Aren’t you happy?”

She sniffs. “Kokoro...my dearest little kitten...I am overjoyed.” She wipes at her eyes as the tears stream down her face. “So much so that my joy cannot be contained.” Again she feels herself being embraced by several pairs of arms. “Thank you so much. All of you. This is the best birthday I have ever experienced.”

She’s not always honest about everything. The Prince is a character, after all, and not the real her. But in this moment, as she’s surrounded by her friends, she’s baring everything to them.

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

Today, she is eighteen years old.

She has attended two parties today. The first held by the drama club (which was slightly somber, as this was the last time they would be celebrating her birthday) and the second by Hello, Happy World. The day has been long, and she is tired. She is home, resting. But she is not alone.

“Chisato?” She asks the smaller girl curled up at her side. “Are you asleep?”

Chisato wraps her arms tighter around her torso. “No,” She mumbles into her shoulder.

She chuckles as she gently strokes her long blonde hair. It’s just as beautiful as it was ten years ago. Perhaps moreso, as the person it’s attached to has grown into a beautiful young woman. She leans in to gently kiss the top of her head.

Time passes in silence. It’s cold outside, and a little chilly in the apartment, but the warmth of her beloved is all she needs. She wraps herself tighter around Chisato.

“Chii-chan,” She whispers. No answer. She must be asleep. She smiles softly and kisses her head again.

“Thank you for spending another birthday with me.”

#kaoru seta #kaochisa #bandori #gray writes

24 notes · View notes

dishonoredrpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, ALLI! You’ve been accepted for the role of SEVEN OF SWORDS with the faceclaim of CILLIAN MURPHY. Canis is certainly a fucking concept, whom I adore to no end. He’s got a tenacious and willful sort of attitude about him, the kind of incredulous charm and wit that lends itself to an air of villainy and danger, and I think that he fits into the Seven of Swords like one fits into a well-made boot or glove. In spite of remaining leashed like a dog, he’s got no small amount of fire in him, and I’m eager to see what (or who!) he sinks his teeth into during gameplay. You’ve brought me a real gift, dropped it on my doorstep, and I am grateful.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

— APPLICATION

OOC

NAME: alli PRONOUNS: she / her AGE: twenty - one TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: cst / i am currently on summer break and have the ability to be really active , but sometimes things do come up ! i definitely have plenty of time to be on the dash with several posts within activity limit and when my muse is high ( i’ll be honest i’m a hoe for high fantasy ) my activity is also super up ! ANYTHING ELSE?: what’s the mead sis…….. the wenches are squabbling …….

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: seven of swords NAME: efferus aubenet / “canis” & “the dog” efferus - of latin meaning , “wild , savage , cruel , barbarous” . a name canis has long since abandoned , preferring even the subtle jab of “the dog” given to him by opponents of his crew and the highborn that look down on him . he finds it just about as cutting as a bread knife . no one except those closest to him ( ie . the pack ) even know this name exists . canis - latin for “ dog ” , though also the scientific genus for all canines , including wolves and coyotes . meant to symbolize canis as the leader of his pack of wild dogs , and a sign of respect , a nickname earned on the streets and not given to him in tyrholm . the dog - a nickname received while working under king septimus , by those that see the second fangs as dirty , unruly , savages . also by revolters who see canis as a dog blindly following the orders of a tyrannical king. in any case , he still prefers this to efferus . sometimes he even barks in response . FACECLAIM: cillian murphy , michiel huisman ( he / him pronouns , cis male ) AGE: thirty - nine , born on the twenty - seventh day of the twelfth month

DETAILS: i always find myself drawn to underdog characters , muses that have overcome more than most others could even imagine to find themselves in their present position . i believe there is so much depth to backgrounds like canis’s . no family so he created his own , nothing to his name so he created his own legacy . a moral compass that tries it’s best to always point north . that fails , because the muse is so painfully human . the irony of a sellsword who wants more for himself ? incredible . when i was skimming the skeletons , it was his that startled practically writing itself , this street urchin turned warrior figure , so i spent a lot of time picking apart the biography until i was left with canis . i did a bit of research on the seventh of swords tarot card , but let me tell you .. i was so pleasantly surprised and intrigued when i did . on one hand , when upright , seven of swords means scheming , resourcefulness , cunning , and lies , all traits that have gotten canis to where he is today , however negative , the legacy he’s forged for himself and all deeply tied to his work . however , when reversed , the seven of swords can mean confession , conscience , regret , and maliciousness , which i think lend beautifully to this character’s private struggles . there is a very heavy mix of negative and positive attributes leant towards seven of sword’s core character , someone who wants to do right by themselves at great cost . when interpreting the tarot as canis , i was drawn to the maliciousness and the regret ( in sometimes equal measure ) of the reversed card . i believe there is so much more to this character than just his web of scheming and lies , that canis’s true self comes from somewhere within , and i’m really excited to explore his inner conflicts. this man has so many issues that he’s buried and i think the possibility of him becoming a part of the revolution? impeccable. my muse for this skeleton ? through the roof .

BACKGROUND

I . O’ ROMULUS AND REMUS , CASTOR AND POLLUX , WHAT IS ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER ? a twin , you were told , though it feels like something you should never be permitted to forget. you’ve never felt him there , not like a phantom limb or a guiding whisper. just a story , when you’re feeling ungrateful for your lot in this realm , that there is only one where there once was two. born in the dead of winter -- the one that bit at the napes of even the most fur cloaked nobility of markholm , that anyone unlucky enough to live through it can still recall as “ceaseless” -- and childbirth takes your mother as it goes. two children , born sickly , cold. so you are dubbed efferus , a savage beast who can claw his way into life , barely holding onto breath , already having taken a life. it takes a village to raise motherless boys. sometimes it takes more than that. your brother doesn’t make it past the winter , but you keep growing , getting stronger by the day , and finally spring flowers bloom forth from hard soil. the goat farmer next door tells your father you are a resilient one , that the undying smiled upon him. another miracle , that your life could be a blessing and not a curse. as long as you knew him , your father kept steadfast in deep religion , devout , praying over the crops. the cattle. the harvest. even your birth , a story he recants so mystically it’s hard to imagine you were there. “we all bled fer you ,” he always starts , like it’s your fault , “my son , my son. let all else be damned fer ‘im.” two lives for the price of one , he reminds you , and you’re just a boy , but you still find it all absurd. there’s never been a rhyme or reason to suffering. “you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid fer.” sometimes it seems a compliment. others .. you aren’t so sure. your father hath no mercy for the weak or spineless , though he wasn’t an inherently evil man either , at least not in the figments you can conjure of him. you plow the fields , with hands so rough with calluses you can’t feel the hilt of the axe you use to cut the firewood. you milk the cows , so gentle with great beasts you start to forget your name. you’re skin and bone and beating heart , not much to look at , but just the blessing your father asked for all the same. a good boy , in that you were capable and healthy and strong. a bad seed , in that you cared for little and didn’t always do as you were told. it’s your tenth winter when frostbitten tendrils take first your farm , and then your father. you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid for , you remember , and it almost makes you laugh. perhaps it’s not so funny that you mourn very little the life you lost. perhaps still it is a testament to your strength , a boy of only ten who shoulders already a lifetime of death and decay. who makes it look a load easy to bear. who are you , efferus aubenet? and who will you become?

II . A MIRRORED MIDAS , IF EVERYTHING HE HAD TOUCHED TURNED TO DEATH AND ROT . a street urchin with no farm , no family , and most prominently no coin. winters slip away like sand through an hourglass , and it’s all you can do to keep track of the time that folds beneath you. one year , and you’re frail and quiet and know only to keep to yourself. three years and you’ve developed a taste for fighting , scrappy as you are. it’s just a game , in the beginning , one the other coinless children keep telling you you’re too good at , “it’s no fun fighting a hungry dog.” five years and you’re taller , more meat to your bones. you’re better at sneaking things out of the market , extra to feed your friends. you learned the hard way what happens if you don’t bring back enough , if you turn a blind eye to people who call out your name. you hear it when you dream , half awake in chilled darkness. “i’m so hungry, efferus. i’m so hungry.” you start going by canis. it makes it easier to sleep. six , seven years and you’re so good at fighting that your pockets start to feel heavy. cobbled streets whisper canis when you cross. bruised fists and a bloody conscience , not all soldiers make it out of battle alive. it dawns on you , slowly but with all the force of a crack of lightning , why the others like to call you dog. maybe it’s because you were born from death , or because you know loss so well it colors your eyelids when you blink , but it seems all you’re good for. you discover a rage within you , one which you’re sure ( you hope , foolish as it is ) any man is capable of , if pushed too far. but it’s directionless , vile in the way it sits inside your chambered heart. there is nothing more universal than pain. nothing more isolating than anger. a boy with a taste for blood. so blind to the way you snap , like branch under boot , when you push too hard. what place is there for you in an unforgiving world , wracked with hardship? at whose table do you dine? you knew love once , it felt like sharing bread and blankets and tales of woe. like years on the streets relying only on wit and steadfast determination to survive. like knowing a person fully , inside and out , as you’d always known yourself. that too would be taken from you , like everything else. for the price of just a single coin , you watched your love take their last breath , watched the thief make off with their blood money , felt truly and terribly powerless. worse than losing your father to deep winter chill you lost your first love to a blade. and in the end , it meant nothing. the sons of argos could not undo what you’d done , what had been done to you , but maybe you could give back tenfold. it starts small , at a table in your favorite tavern , as all great plots tended to do. an invitation to join a company you’d heard about only in whispers. you saw espace , penance where others saw a home , but that would always be enough for you. it was intended to be permanent , a family you couldn’t lose , under a friend who would lay down their life for the men , women , and children under their protection. a life of adventure to call your own and you didn’t need to suffer anymore. you had but one skill , it seemed , beyond tending to the herd and trimming too tall crops , and your father once taught you that skill fed fortune ( though the money , you’d find , would come later ) . you don’t think the sons is quite what your dearly departed had in mind , and this makes your smile widen. you’ve always found humor in odd places. what follows is a career far short of extravagant , fighting crime like a bunch of vigilanties , tied to a city state that knows little of its own streets. you hunger for travel , to sink your teeth into shores unseen , land untended. to make a real name for yourself and anyone who followed suit. “mind your place , mutt,” you hear more than once , and you want to swat the others away like flies buzzing in swelling ears. but there’s something sharp , too , like a cut that just won’t heal. your voice is too loud amongst the rest , your name -- the name you paid for in blood -- nothing next to strength’s. the captain you were meant to worship turned to dust in your heavy fist , the family you forged alongside them never yours to call your own. you tell yourself they betrayed you , like everything else in this life they gave you nothing to hold onto save for the back of their coattails , but in truth you were never meant to stay. minding your place felt a lot like digging six feet down to lay rest. it’s like waking from a dream , one you push down when it returns to you in the night , leaving the sons for good. four winters you slept under their tents , ate at their table , and still you feel nothing when you pack what’s yours ( and maybe some of what isn’t , but who would dare come looking for it? ) and go. no one follows , no one even pleads your case , and when you see them playing knights on the docks the fire in you swells. it’s all rot now.

III . WHERE WOULD ICARUS BE NOW , IF SOMEONE WISE HAD CLIPPED CURSED WINGS? iriebury is the stank of unwashed flesh , the heat of southern sun , something to conquer. the citizens are mean and the crime meaner. it makes tyrholm look a lot like playing pretend , the sons seem like a group of toy soldiers. to survive in iriebury you need your bark , you need your bite. naturally , you thrive. it takes just one winter , one warm southern winter , before you have something to call a crew of your very own. the second fangs , a handful of beaten down , nearly finished off mutts that think you look like a future. you’ll find one day , when you’ve turned to face the wrong end of a sword , these dogs’ loyalty knows no bounds. and maybe you do have a family after all. they don’t look like warriors born for battle , but they’re sharp on every edge and speak of you like you hung the moon. like a prophecy spun from the undying herself. the queen of iriebury’s no different , when you flash her a smile and run a sword through her guard. this is your destiny. with work and full bellies , the second fangs grow , picking up more men and women the rest of markholm cast aside , giving them all purpose. leadership becomes you , you’re kind in places other captains breathe fire. your men adore you , and maybe this is why it’s easy to lose yourself a bit. you’ve always been looking for him , that voice inside of you that has guided every confident step , and you really start to believe you’ve found him at the end of a blade. what you do isn’t pretty like life in a castle , it isn’t gentle like the farm or humble like a temple , but it suits you. you find company at the bottom of a bottle , family inside the taverns and brothels , atop dirty cobblestone. it all feels a lot like honor , like duty. you’re known for your loyalty and cunning among burdened skill. work lends to virtue or some mirrored image of the sort. the second fangs take the jobs you approve , not the ones the queen hands you , nails stained with blood , and who knew a mercenary crew with such an eye for morality? bastards that comb the streets but speak with love fresh on their lips. you’re a heathen with heart , of that not even the fiercest opponents can dispute. maybe there is a place in this world for nameless , coinless men with a hunger for something more. you give back to your beloved pack what they give to you ; everything , everything and then some. a life that means more than scraping the bottom of the barrel. you can’t carry on like this forever and survive , and it’s only a matter of time before real gold starts knocking. a steady job , you’re promised. a lifetime of stability , peace. you know more of the king of tyrholm than you let on , and maybe you are naive to trust the word of a woman who did not raise herself , but when you look at your company’s worn faces and tired smiles , weathered from southern strife , it’s never been easier to bend a knee. some odd winters , some odd springs , lived with modest lavesty. septimus is an arse of a man that whispers corroded bidding into your graceless ear. no one but the second fangs knows how much you shake , when the job is done and you’re safe at home. how much weight you shoulder , for yourself , for your men , for the lives you’ve taken. the lives you will take. your crew was never meant to become a rebellion. the glory feels lost , you’re a knight without chivalry , a wolf without teeth. you hear dog more than your own name and you bite back bile when you look in a mirror , but still , you think , you would do it all over again. the second fangs are a happy crew , well fed and housed and nothing like the orphans you sheltered so many moons ago. when it starts to feel like you have your own sons of argos you shelf the thought. your pack looks at you , strong and fit and still just a bit withered , and laugh and cheer. “yer getting old, canis,” they jest , when you stumble into bed. “hunch - backed from all that gold in yer pockets.” you’ve always been wiser than most of them , something raw in your heart that keeps it beating steadfast. better you than them , you know. most men would crack at what you’d seen. what you know. there’s good to be found , once you learn how to look , like the devotion of judgement , a beauty in worship that reminds you of all your father’s useless praying. peaceful in all it’s absurdity. there’s friendship in odd places , with the empress you serve. you find it hard to trust in tyrholm , unaccustomed to the politics of a ruling class , the society that never once smiled down on a farm boy and his widowed father. you want to be wise and cunning , still sometimes you feel inadequate next to those raised in education , but the queen saw your potential before anyone else in the whole retched kingdom , and that has to mean something. there’s the fool , a real dog you sometimes think , who mirrors your old captain so much it makes your skin crawl. they aren’t so bad , but it’s hard for you to look up at someone who serves at the hand of the king. you wonder if others think the same of you. fools , the whole lot of them. you know what the queen expects of you , your word is your livelihood , but these things take time. for now , you’re comfortable ; your cup is full. there’s always been something about wars to come that feels like home , ragged and battle scarred thing that you are. and besides , it’s easier to put out a fire that burns inside your ribs than one that swallows an entire kingdom , of this you are certain.

PLOT IDEAS

STRENGTH: oh boy oh man. canis can’t hold his tongue with distaste even if he tried , and he definitely doesn’t try with them. his anger often gets the better of him and i believe he would try to confront strength every chance he gets. he sees this skeleton as nothing more than the king’s right hand ( literally so exciting to me that strength is also a revolter and i’m sure neither of them know they’re destined to work on the same side again?? ) and i think he reflects a lot of his own inadequacies onto this skeleton , a lot of his failure. with such a tension relationship i’d like to see fights break out .. maybe even between their own respective men that they’d have to quell. far down the line even settling their differences and working together as the military leaders of a revolution because who is better suited for the job than them? but it would take a big blow to canis’s pride to share such a job , to ever work alongside this skeleton instead of against them like he always has. so all around? here for it all. NINE OF WANDS: canis looks at them and sees passion he once was sure he felt , the sharp thing in his gut that once spurred him to forge his own path in a world that never once showed him kindness. his scars are internal , but they wear their scar like a badge of honor , at least that’s how canis sees it. he’d love to not have to kill the king himself , even if he would never admit it. it means a safer life for his men , it means being done with tyrholm and a life of ease and travel , everything he’s always wanted and never seemed to be able to grasp. i wonder if them growing closer through sparring and their ability to provide him the best weapons he’s ever seen could change his opinion on wanting them to kill the king in a fit of rage?? i could see canis wanted to strategize with them , in the end , once he’s done poking the bear. love this gift of a connection a lot !!!! THE EMPRESS: definite ass kissing going on here. canis is more than grateful he was hired by her and not the king , though i do think he might resent them a little for the work the king makes his company do. he prefers to take jobs from them , when ordered , though i feel their relationship at this point goes beyond just work like it does with septimus. he trusts them and it does help him to sleep at night thinking he could be serving their hand and not septimus’s. also entirely possibly they call him the dog but with them it doesn’t feel like malice. he would never dare disrespect the queen , especially one he sees goodness in , sees his entire future in. would be really interesting if canis even is a little too friendly with them , giving them a hard time where maybe no one else would dare to do , an annoying prick in her side that she NEEDS to get what she wants. THE HERMIT: i think he has a lot of respect for the hermit. in ways that his pride keeps him from seeing his similarities with strength , he sees so much of who he once was in them. young , making their own way , maybe even some of the same rage , though canis has no place to put his own. i feel like if the respect was mutual they could have a friendly relationship , canis even pushing advice onto them they might not want or need. if a revolution came he would back them. somewhere , he probably even sees them as something of a good king. canis doesn’t trust them fully , but he could drink with them , knows the second fangs would treat them kindly as well. THE HIGH PRIESTESS: canis is scared of little , but he’s scared shitless of them. he avoids them at all costs , looks the other way when they’re brought to the same space. he doesn’t talk kindly of necromancers , though maybe there is some envy there he needs to address. he’s sure this doesn’t go unnoticed , not with all their years of wisdom. i think it could be really interesting though if one of his closest friends is killed on a job and they bring them back as he watches , sees this power first hand , feels even a debt is owed though none of the fear is gone. a lot of possibilities , i could see the second fangs might be dying a lot more often pretty soon ... JUSTICE: the world calls canis the dog because they see him as filth , as something mangey that feeds from table scraps of the king , but canis sees that justice is the real dog. and he pities him for it. there’s little glory in the work of a bodyguard , and maybe canis wonders how justice would fair in his own company. never the less , i think they could butt heads just as easily as they could share a pint. maybe they’ve even fought in some of the same battles , know each other from war torn lives and have a bond because of this. lots of potential for both malice and comradery , no matter what line of the revolution they tread. THE LOVERS: canis sees himself and more in them. he doesn’t pity easily , has an ability to find the strength in even the smallest mouse , but he pities the lovers. in some ways , i think he wants what they have , longs for something as fulfilling as love , and doesn’t want to see this squashed. every day he gets closer to telling them of the war to come. i really wonder how long he can go without letting anything slip , especially if they look at him with gentleness or show him great kindness. he feels they need to prepare , like he is , for a future of destruction. THE MOON: okay okay .. i have two different paths that i think might be interesting with this skeleton depending on what gets plotted out. BUT .. i could imagine canis stumbles into their office after being badly injured on the job , probably requesting some random herb because it HURTS and he’s WEAK and he needs it to be DONE WITH. one path would lead to the moon healing canis , and once he discovers this ability he probably begs and bribes ( heavily. the man is too wealthy for his own good now , and what else is he going to buy? new boots? his work just fine. ) them to start visiting the second fangs around the city to heal them in secret. he’ll do anything for their ensured safety. the other path works quite the same , only with no healing , just plants , and he’d be very dependent on this muse either way because of the miracles they’re able to work with his men. really really excited for the possibilities of plots with this skeleton. THE TOWER: a backstory plot for these muses is calling my name?? like maybe the tower and canis had a deal where the second fangs would assist them and their men on voyages and pillages for a cut of the treasure when all was said and done , back when the second fangs were fresher and poorer and in desperate need of work. and maybe one of the two betrayed the other on one of these trips , with greed for treasure or something of the like? things could be tense between them now , at each other’s throats. OR there could have never been a betrayal and they’re actually quite good friends who know a little too much about each other’s pasts , and canis offers the tower company amongst the pack knowing he’s lived through canis’s own worst nightmare. the terrifying ordeal of being known. canis could definitely trust them more than he should. this one has me really excited i won’t lie.

CHARACTER DEATH: canis would quite literally volunteer for this so that’s a big yes from me.

WRITING SAMPLE

THE SELF PARA: the tent is warm and the burn of the lamplight casts shadows across familiar faces. the second fangs. his pack, he always calls them, like they’re puppies and not vicious mercenaries. canis is most comfortable here, at ease, his usually pin straight posture relaxed despite the job he knows lays ahead of them. it’s not one he’s entirely comfortable with, an uprising in a poor village. always messy, always felt a bit like putting down a weakened calf at the farm. so they drink, to forget the day that lies ahead, the uncountable days behind. the faces. faces. faces, that echo like screams. he can’t recall who speaks first, but it was likely canis himself, always a little too bold when his body buzzed with liquid courage. “that’s not what i’m asking,” one of his men corrects with a nudge of canis’s shoulder, always aggressive with each other, a pack of wolves nipping at each other’s heels. “the death’s on your hands. but it’s meant to be a good one. worth while.” and the captain’s own eyes twinkle uncharacteristically, perhaps because his inner conscious knows what his mouth does not. that the answer lies waiting at the tip of his tongue, a snarling beast of a target. “and how much coin are we gonna get fer it?” ajax jests, but canis can see the gold flashing in front of his face, even from across the table. canis barks out a laugh, and they all bang their goblets on the table. “aye,” in unison. they know each other inside and out, they speak a language strange and foreign. a family with many moons in their pockets. how many knights can say that? “no coin,” canis finally adds. “no glory. no private dance at the brothel,” eying ren, and there’s another chorus of easy laughter, more aye’s. “one of the nobles,” lawren grunts, and at first there’s just ringing silence. a paranoia that winds it’s way through the small group. they trust each other with their lives but this .. it’s like blasphemy. it’s revolution uncurling within them, more than just a job, it’s a force awakening. lawren speaks again, gentler, louder. “undying knows they’re all pricks.” and it’s easy again, more aye’s, cups overflowing with wine and ale. but in between the laughter, he feels the wrench in his gut, the rage that threatens to flare. an allegiance of blood and blind faith -- it reminds him so much of religion that he squirms. maybe his answer lies in a job, with wicked tendrils wrapped around his neck like a leash. the dog. how wrong would it be to bite the hand that feeds you? “i’d cut off my ring fingers and swear to celibacy to be rid of the fuck all king already,” canis growls, his knuckles white where he grips tight on his cup. and it’s quiet again. when he speaks they listen, they all listen, even the highborn in the castle, like he’s a wave crashing on shore. commanding attention. demanding it. “you’re spending too much time with the clerics,” ren groans, with a face like a fox, her hair hanging limply in her face. he can’t tell if she’s smiling or frowning, but they’re nodding in agreement. all of them. “what good’s that sack of shit king, anyway?” lawren chimes in, and then it’s deafening chatter. all canis can do is listen, absorb the pain of his men, the frustration, see himself reflected in their woes. say what any outsider will about his crew, maybe they are all mutts. one mind, one body, one restless spirit. tired of being used, of being chained to a cause that tries to fill deep chasms in bleeding hearts with gold. what is the price of true freedom? “maybe the end is closer than you think, canis,” a small voice that rises above the others. a girl, mary, raised in the pack, only nearing her seventeenth summer. and she’s a legacy of everything canis has created, the family he wove with bruised and boney fingers. “we haven’t lost a battle, yet.” and she’s right, of course she’s right, whip smart and flea bitten. if there is to be a revolution, aid of the pack would be an immense advantage. it isn’t arrogance with which his men speak. it’s truth. he has to chew on the suggestion, sharp glass in his mouth with every bite, impossible to digest, but maybe with the backing of his crew .. canis has trouble seeing the future beyond a sack of coins and a full bottle of ale. he knows little of politics, even after all his withered years serving as something of a king himself. it’s overwhelming, and he thinks his whole arm shakes when he raises his goblet. “nasty fuckers,” but his teeth shine in the lamplight, like fangs. like canines. “trying to get your own captain killed.” but when they clink glasses, it feels like a deal has been made, like he owes this death to more than just the queen, like the undying herself is watching.

EXTRAS

VOICE : canis has an eclectic sort of accent , a combination of all of the people he met while living on the street , his father , the lands he’s traveled and settled into with his companies . he constantly sticks out as an outsider , no matter where he is . he doesn’t mind this sense of otherness because whenever canis goes , his family is never far . canis’s mockblog can be found HERE his pinterest can be found HERE ( blood tw )

#accepted #accepted: seven of swords

6 notes · View notes

fandomn00blr · 4 years

Text

I tagged a bunch of folks in on my last WIP post, and I don’t want to harass anyone two days in a row, but seriously, and I know I say it every time, because I really do mean it...WHOEVER WANTS TO THROW SOMETHING TO THE VOID TODAY (or any day...) SHOULD DO SO AND TAG ME AND I WILL LAUGH AND/OR CRY AND/OR BLUSH IN EMBARRASSMENT WITH YOU!

Seeing all this excellent fenders content showing up on my dash recently (IDK what I did to make this happen, but well done, tumblrverse) put me in a MOOD to go back and find some glowey smut from the discard pile...which then apparently turned into fluffy angst (or angsty fluff?) and hand-holding (if you squint...it’s there at the end, I swear).

This one doesn’t really fit into any of my current WIP world states (I mean, I definitely straight up stole some of this from my earlier self for later fenhanders relationship dynamics), and it’s from back when I was clearly still getting to know these characters (still am, tbh), so we’ll go ahead and yeet it into the Void this week, where it belongs:

(Under a cut, cuz it’s 1900+ words long, a whole ficlet, I guess, and there are mentions of the amazing sex these two apparently just had...before Anders had to go and make it awkward...)

“You -- Fenris…” Anders gasps, when Fenris finally pulls away from the kiss long enough to give him a chance to breathe. “I haven’t had sex like that since…”

Fenris’ eyebrows furrow together and he abruptly lets go of him. The last thing he wants is to be compared to any of his past lovers.

“Well, since Hawke and Isabela paid for that night for me at the Blooming Rose for my birthday a few years ago!”

Judging by his frown, this is definitely not the kind of thing Fenris was looking to hear from him.

Anders remembers now, through the idiotic haze of his post-coital bliss, that Fenris had been extra broody then, apparently perturbed that he, or, more specifically, Justice, would want to go through with what the two women had arranged for him, and also probably a little bit annoyed that he wouldn’t shut up about it afterwards. Granted, this was back before he would have ever admitted he had any feelings for the mage. And there is a distinct possibility that Anders had been trying to make him jealous, to provoke him, something Justice seems to want to remind him of now...

“I...remind you of a prostitute?” Fenris doesn’t sound angry or offended. He just sounds sad, a bit disappointed.

“No!” Anders shakes his head, trying to catch his breath and take it back. Not that that should be a bad thing, he wants to say. Fenris knows about his past work in Denerim. Knows how he feels about sex work in general. But he also understands why this association might be a problem for Fenris, sees the hurt there, and has no idea why he decided to bring it up now. “Not at all!”

How does he always manage to mess everything up with him so quickly? He used to be quite good at making charming conversation after sex, priding himself on making sure that everyone had said their piece, that needs and expectations had all been met. And his bedside manner as a healer is highly-regarded by everyone here in Kirkwall.

But Fenris isn’t exactly a client or his patient at the moment. And he supposes he hasn’t had much practice at this sort of thing for a very long time.

“Because it’s you. And no one is being paid…and shit!” He feels Justice trying to take control to save him from his clumsy rambling, but what does the spirit know about pillow talk?

Fenris has somehow already gotten dressed and now he’s reaching for his sword, propped up carefully by the moth-eaten curtain Anders deemed adequate for granting them privacy in the little cubbyhole he calls his “bedroom” carved into the back of his clinic.

“And Justice approves!” Anders declares, growing desperate in his attempts to try and salvage this. “Of this. Of us. Of you!”

Fenris turns back and shoots him the darkest look he’s given him yet through this exchange. “Do not use the spirit’s feelings to try and spare mine.”

Anders is trying. He truly is. But this isn’t fair, because Fenris has just fucked him senseless, and all he really wants is to curl up next to him and fall asleep. It would be good sleep, too. The kind he hasn’t had in...he can’t really remember, doesn’t really want to. And anyway, it’s looking less and less like that’s going to happen now.

“What does that even mean?” he asks, waving his arms frantically in the air.

“Ask him.”

“You know I can’t! Unless you want me to let him take over?” Anders offers, half-seriously at first, but then he gets a curious look in his eyes. “Is that what you want? Because I totally can...” His eyes begin to glow a little, and light begins to shine through cracks in his skin.

Without even acknowledging this, Fenris ducks under the curtain, and begins making his way through the clinic toward the exit.

“Wait!” Anders calls after him, banishing Justice back to his subconscience for now.

But Fenris marches on, with Anders trailing behind him all the way through Darktown. It’s a wonder that he just can’t seem to catch up. He’s nearly a foot taller than the elf, after all, though Anders is perpetually out of shape due to his own self-neglect, and Fenris is...decidedly not that. But as far as he can tell, Fenris isn’t using any of his lyrium-enhanced abilities to completely lose him, though he certainly could if he really wanted to. Which is actually a little bit encouraging.

As they enter Lowtown, he slows down just enough that Anders is able to reach out to him. There was a time when he would’ve feared the consequences of grabbing the standoffish elf’s arm to try and get his attention. Part of him still does, he supposes, but not enough to risk losing him like this again tonight without at least trying to make things right.

As soon as he touches him, Fenris whips his head around and glares at him. “I am going home.”

“Fine. You can do that. I just…” He wheezes, leaning forward, trying to catch his breath. He truly is out of shape. “Can I apologize?”

“For what?”

“For being an idiot?” he huffs.

“You have never apologized for that before.”

Anders is so relieved to see the little smirk on his face that he could kiss him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s already pressing his luck with him further than he’s ever dared to before and he’s determined not to fuck it all the way up if he can help it.

“For...for...all the wrong things I said in my...compromised state back there.”

“Compromised?”

“Fenris, please just work with me here?”

His eyes narrow on him, but he is silent for what feels like an eternity to Anders. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and mutters, “You have nothing to apologize for.” He looks down into the empty space between them. “I should not have assumed this was anything more than sex.”

Anders shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong. It is! And you know that.”

“But you…”

“You do know that, right?”

“I...”

“For three years I’d like to think that we’ve been building something more than just...well, whatever that was the first time this almost happened.”

He is pacing now, and Fenris is watching his hands as they move wildly back and forth with him, mesmerizing physical manifestations of the mage’s fretting over him and his feelings. His body language says more to Fenris than whatever words he is muttering as he frantically stumbles through another unnecessary apology.

“Fenris!” he snaps, drawing his attention sharply away from his hands. “Do you even remember that? You knew I wanted you back then. But not if you were going to regret it. If it was just about the sex…”

“I suppose you have proven yourself to be more than just a depraved abomination,” he drawls, with more than just a hint of that irresistible smirk. Justice seems even more pleased than Anders to see it this time. “But I am still going home tonight. To a real bed.”

Anders grabs his arm again as he turns to leave, and Fenris’ markings flare up bright and blinding this time, the sudden burst of activated lyrium burnishing itself into all six of Anders’ senses.

He knows he’s pushed him too far. But if Anders is going to die tonight, after what has just happened between them, well...he supposes it’s better than if he had died yesterday. And Justice seems to agree, because he doesn’t even try to take control in order to save him.

Instead of ripping his heart out through his chest as Anders braces himself for the inevitable, Fenris reaches up, gathering the mage’s collar in his hands, and yanks him down into a kiss.

Maybe Anders is dead. He certainly can’t breathe, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him at the moment. Between the lyrium and the kiss and his body still humming from all the dopamine he’s been inundated with in the past couple of hours...

Fenris releases him with a quiet sigh and just stares at him as his markings recede. He’s expecting something. Words, perhaps? But Anders hasn’t been doing very well with those tonight.

He swallows hard, and tries anyway, because he can feel Justice growing impatient with his inaction. “You were…” he hesitates.

“Going home.” Fenris nods.

“To the mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Fine…” Anders rocks back onto his heels trying not to look completely dejected. “Yeah, fine…okay.”

Fenris rolls his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. “Would you like to join me?” he offers on the exhale.

Anders looks stunned for a moment as he simply stares back at him. Then slowly, a dopey grin begins to spread across his face. “Are you sure?” Anders beams down at him. He honestly can’t help but show every emotion clear as day across his entire countenance and to Fenris, it’s one of the most embarrassing and endearing things about him.

“Hmmm…” Fenris starts to turn away from him again before his own smile can reveal itself. He certainly wouldn’t want to encourage this behavior.

“Okay!” Anders cries out, tightening the hand he’s forgotten is still wrapped around Fenris’ arm. When Fenris doesn’t even flinch, he thinks for sure he’s either dead or dreaming. “Okay...yes! Yes I would very much like to join you.”

Fenris shrugs him off without another word, and is already marching toward Hightown before the mage can say anything else to make him reconsider the invitation.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust him. Anders is terrible at hiding his intentions, his feelings, anything from him, really, and he supposes, after what he’s said to him tonight, that this is no accident. He trusts Fenris, as well, foolish as it seems for either of them.

But Fenris knows that once this happens, once Anders embeds himself into his home -- which, up to this point, hasn’t felt much like a home at all, and that has been on purpose, too -- more than all the tension between them the past three years, more than the half-drunken moments stolen from each other in dark corners of the Hanged Man, or in the alley behind it, or in the back of the clinic, where he could still tell himself it was just a phase or meaningless beyond the relief of pent-up frustration it afforded both of them, there can be no turning back. No more pretending he isn’t completely smitten with the ridiculous mage once he’s taken him into his own bed and let down his guard enough to actually just...sleep with him.

At some point, he reaches behind him with a small huff, a puff of gently glowing white in the unseasonal coolness of the night betraying his feelings. He grabs Anders’ hand, pulling him along with him, and Anders feels like he’s practically floating on that little cloud the rest of the way to Hightown.

#dragon age #throwaway thursday #anders #fenris #fenders #anders is love-drunk #not like in a magical love potion/sex pollen way #just in the 'this was better than I thought it could be and I've been thinking about it for a very long time' kinda way #anyway...#long post

4 notes · View notes

lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

Dashing Rose: A Finding You Always Vignette

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 2:True Love Born

Fandral gazed up at the stars that night, somehow looking for answers. He knew his home world was gone now, but he hoped at least that some of his people had survived. He thought he would have desired to find out, but his thoughts were consumed by the woman who had saved his life instead. Never in his considerable fourteen-hundred years had he met a woman that was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Until Rose Red.

He had been a bit disappointed when a servant had delivered his evening meal at her request and told him that she regretted that she could not join him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong and so when the servant knocked to collect his tray, he pressed her for information.

"Can you please tell me where Rose is?" he requested.

"I am afraid I am forbidden to say," the woman said and he could tell she was quite troubled by that.

"Please...I care for Rose Red and you will not be implicated," he promised. The woman looked around and then stepped closer to him.

"The King was dissatisfied with the quality of her work today and when he is dissatisfied, he punishes her," she whispered. Dread knotted in his stomach.

"What sort of punishment?" he asked. She closed her eyes.

"She receives a whipping...he does it in the cellar so no one will hear her scream," she revealed. Horror and outrage filled him, as he extracted his sword from the stand by the door.

"Where is this cellar?" he questioned. She looked around and then motioned him down the hallway, where she opened a door that revealed a dark, winding staircase.

"This will lead you down there. Save her," she pleaded, as he hurried down.

~*~

Tears were already falling down her cheeks, as Sir Hiss led her to the cellar that evening. Her dwarf caretaker had informed her Uncle that she had failed to complete some of her chores that day and she had been late with the evening meal. That meant she had to face the consequences of those failures.

Sir Hiss prodded her into the cellar where her Uncle awaited her.

"I give you everything, my dear and yet you fail to complete such simple tasks," he said sternly.

"I'm sorry Uncle...please don't do this," she pleaded, but he raised his hand.

"You will be silent, Rose Red. This must be done and you know that you deserve this," he replied, as he took her arm and led her to the post in the center of the cellar.

"Raise your arms," he ordered and she obeyed, knowing that one way or another, this was going to happen, no matter what she did. Her wrists were tied to the post and she was already crying, as she felt him unzip the back of her dress. He pushed the fabric aside, baring the fair skin of her back. He picked up the harshly woven whip and took the first lash. A scream ripped from her throat. She sobbed, as he spent four more lashes. By that time, she was hanging from the ropes, in a haze of unbearable pain and cried uncontrollably, knowing that she had five more lashes to endure. But the sixth one never came.

John's face was alight with twisted glee, as he abused his niece. He feared her kindness and her strength. He resented how the people loved her and loathed him. He knew if she ever had the courage to rise against him that she could rally the people to help her overthrow him. So he kept her down. He forced her into servitude and he made sure she would never rise against him. And soon, he would force her to marry a rich Lord from a far away Kingdom. Lord Farquad was quite enamored by her and willing to pay him a large fortune. Once the marriage was final, he would be very rich and never have to be bothered with her again. As he wound up for the sixth lash, he felt someone catch his arm and then it was him crying out in pain.

"How dare you!" Fandral growled, as he shoved the King against the wall.

"Guards!" King John called, as several flooded the cellar, but they were cut down with ease.

"Would you care to have the rest of your army cut down as well?" Fandral questioned, as he shocked them with his super human strength and prowess with a blade.

"How dare you...I am King!" John boasted.

"You are no King...you are a monster, but if you ever touch a hair on her head again, you will meet your end at my blade," he warned, as he cut the ropes and caught Rose Red in his arms. He swept her into his arms and no one stopped him from carrying her out of the cellar.

~*~

He choked, as the breath in his body stilled and her blade protruded from his chest. He fell to the floor and was in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, slowly dying and unable to open his eyes at all. He soon felt himself floating and knew now that he had somehow been sucked away from his home realm by the bi-frost. The next time he opened his eyes, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen was peering over him with worry and concern. And then...complete awareness as his deadly wound was magically healed. She had smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat at the sight. That's when the memories changed though into a nightmare. He saw that demon woman come through a portal after him. Hela...his would be murderer.

"Guess I should have made sure you were really dead," she hissed, as her attention turned to Rose.

"Who is this?" she asked, as she strode toward her and Rose's scream filled his ears.

He startled awake from the chair he had fallen asleep in and breathed heavily, as he got his bearings. The last part had just been a nightmare and he was reasonably certain that Hela wouldn't come for him. He was insignificant in her plans and as he got up to check on Rose, he realized that, while he loved his former home, he was but a small cog in a very large wheel. But here...he felt purpose like he had not felt in a very long time. Purpose at her side and the memories of what she had endured last evening were very fresh in his mind. He was still livid and thinking that letting that monster live was a mistake. But firstly, his focus was on Rose and he gently checked the bandages he had placed on her back.

She stirred and hummed the most beautiful noise he was sure he had ever heard, next to her voice, and opened her eyes. She was startled at first, until she saw him.

"Easy...your wounds are mostly healed, but take it slow," he said.

"How…" she started to say and then the memories came back to her.

"You...you saved me…" she realized.

"And he will never touch you again, lest he wishes to meet his end at my blade," he told her.

"How...how am I healed already?" she asked curiously. He smiled gently.

"Your garden is quite impressive. You had all the ingredients I needed to make an ancient Asgardian healing salve that works wonders on wounds such as the ones you had," he explained, as he helped her sit up.

"You...you did all that for me?" she asked.

"How could I not? He has been abusing you for years, hasn't he?" he asked. She looked down and swallowed.

"Since I was very small," she admitted.

"But you shouldn't have done that. He'll find a way to retaliate against you," she added.

"I don't care and I assure you I can take on his entire army if I have to, for he will never lay another hand on you," he promised, as she sat up.

"He is undeserving of his Throne...it is you that should sit on that Throne. That is what the people want, isn't it?" he asked. She looked at him.

"Yes...but I am no Queen. How can I lead them when I cannot even stand up to my Uncle?" she asked.

"You can if you have the right people behind you," he replied.

"And you would stand with me?" she asked.

"I would," he replied. She was about to say more when she heard the dwarf call to her.

"I must go for now...but will you meet me in the garden later?" she asked.

"I will," he promised, as she stepped closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Th...thank you for saving me," she whispered, as she hurried off to tend to her chores. He was stunned by the feel of her lips on his cheek and realized at that moment that he had fallen in love, real love, for the first time in his very long life.

~*~

"And this is the garden, Lord Farquad. You will find no garden as beautiful as this one in all the Kingdoms," King John boasted.

"Quite...my compliments to your gardener," Farquad said.

"Ah, well...my gardener is none other than my fair niece, Rose Red," John said, as they came upon the young woman, as she was tending to the rose bushes.

"Forgive her appearance," he apologized, noticing the dirt on her dress.

"My my, it is true...you are the fairest in the land," Farquad said, captivated by the beautiful Princess.

"This is Lord Farquad," John said, as he grabbed her arm.

"You will bow to him," he hissed. But for the first time, Rose Red looked at him with defiant eyes and pulled away.

"Oh...she has fire. I do love fire," Farquad commented.

"It's nice to meet you, Lord Farquad. Please excuse me," Rose said politely, as she hurried off into the garden to get away. She wanted no part of any of the dignitaries that her Uncle was trying to impress. Her face lit up though when she found Fandral waiting for her and her heart skipped a beat when he smiled at her. She knew what she was feeling for him, but she wondered if she dared to hope for something as wonderful as true love.

~*~

Over the next few weeks, Rose Red and Fandral spent much time together. She helped him acclimate to this new land since he really had no other to return to. He was curious if any had survived Asgard, but found himself taking to his new home very well. Much of that was because of the beautiful princess that had come to his rescue though. They talked and laughed together for hours in her garden when he was not keeping up with his rigorous training.

Rose was fascinated by his stories as a warrior alongside the God Thor and all his adventures. She was enthralled by the adventures he had been on and places he had been.

"It must have been so incredible to go so many places," she mentioned.

"It was...though I admit, sometimes it was hard to feel like I was home, even when I was," he replied.

"Sometimes, I don't think home is a place. This palace has been by home since I was a child, but it never felt like home until...until you came," she admitted.

"And I come from a land far from here, yet not even Asgard felt as home as this place does," he admitted in return. Rose felt her face go hot, for it was not the first time she had noticed how handsome Fandral was. Or how dashing or charming he was.

"Do you think I could learn to fight?" she asked suddenly. He looked at her curiously.

"I mean, I know such is not proper for a Princess and many think not proper for a woman...but," she stammered, but he lay his hand on hers.

"One of the most skilled and valiant warriors I ever fought with was a woman. I'd be honored to teach you," he replied. She beamed at him and threw her arms around him. He chuckled and then stopped, as they stared at each other, their faces mere inches apart.

"We...we should begin your training," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

"In a minute," she responded, as she pressed her lips to his. Fandral instantly kissed her back and squashed any daylight between them. True love had been sparked between them almost instantly upon their meeting, but in that moment, it was born in the garden where they realized they were each other's home. Little did they know, the evil dwarf had other plans for Rose Red and he glared at the scene before him from the tower. He was determined that true love would not spoil his plans…

#Snowing #Snowing parallel #Rose Red #Fandral the Dashing #Fandral of Asgard #a finding you always vignette #romance #adventure #Dashing Rose

2 notes · View notes

hailsuzalulu · 5 years

Text

The Cute Quirk Analyst

I took way too long to get anything at all out and I want to apologize to my Giftee @rvkiakuchiki, for having to deal with the fact that I am a horrible Santa. I’m hoping to make this a several parter because everything in life just seems to hate me. But so far this is what I have and I’m planning to update every chance I get the time

I am so so so so sorry for posting so late, but I hope you enjoy what I have.

“ I swear to god round-face, if you ask again about that damn secret santa i’m going to blast you sky high and not wait for you to float your ass down.” Bakugo growled, sending a signature glare to the shorter girl walking by his side.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud Blasty, it’s a holiday tradition! There’s just something thrilling about not knowing who’s going to give you a present, it’s fun to see what people think about you.” Uraraka teased, jabbing her partner in the side with her elbow. Her grin could only be described as shit eating, to think she used to be the sweetest person that he knew. Being partners since UA really had changed her, maturing her from someone who was polite to everyone and overly bubbly, to someone who wasn’t afraid to throw sass and get tough when she needed to.

Bakugo huffed at the jab, focusing his attention on the scenery below him. People hustled around the streets, buying gifts for the holidays and going on window shopping dates. Snow slowly fell, a flake showing itself here or there. Ground Zero eyed the alley ways that were sure to be littered with villains just waiting for something sparkly to cross their paths. And today was their lucky day. A scream emanated from across the street where a jewelry store was getting robbed. The villain dashed out of the door, knocking people over as he ran down the street. A wicked grin spread across Bakugo’s face, the two heros shared a glance before taking of into action, jumping from roof to roof of the buildings, watching the movements of the villain. He was clearly an amature, his movements through the streets and alleyways were erratic, like he was making up where he ran on the fly. Ground Zero and Uravity followed him closely, hoping to trap him before he hurt anyone. They had practiced this maneuver several times, chasing low time villains throughout the abandoned alleyways until they reached a dead end. It minimized fighting, damage, and the possibility of civilians getting caught in the fray. He fell for it easily, skidding to a stop when Bakugo chased him to a wall, effectively trapping the villain.

“Geez, and I was really hoping for a real fight today.” Ground Zero spoke as he approached the villain, cracking his knuckles as he prepared to take the guy in. Uravity floated down beside him from the rooftop.

“Don’t be mean Zero.” Uravity sighed. If she was being honest she hoped for a fight too, but if that wasn’t the case then it meant far less paperwork, and that she was fine with. The villain took steps back as the heroes approached, the bag on his side jingling with the stolen jewelry. He was sweating buckets as the heroes came closer, distressed and cornered, he backed himself into the wall and then he froze. Now he had only one option, the one any cornered animal would use.

“Look out, he’s about to use his quirk.” A voice came over their coms, one that neither hero had heard before.

“Who the fuck-” Ground Zero began to ask, before he was cut off by being pulled violently toward the villain by his gauntlets. Instantly Bakugo set off explosions, splitting from the guy’s hold.

“His quirk is Magnetism. He can attract the metal in your gear.” The voice spoke again through the coms.

“Zero!” Uravity yelled as the guy pulled her towards him, her belt buckle the source of the magnetism, Bakugo leaped into action before she could fall into his hold, shooting forward with an explosion. He reared back to aim a punch at the villain, before getting stopped by the villain’s quirk. The metal of his gear was held in place by the magnet, stopping Bakugo from moving away to toward the villain.

“Ground Zero, distract him somehow. It’ll stop his quirk.” The voice said in his ear again. Bakugo let out a growl.

“I dunno who the fuck you are but you damn well better not be wrong about this.” He was out of options, not being able to move his body to attack left him with few options, the person on the other end of the communicator voicing the best option that came to mind. Ground Zero let off a loud explosion, catching the villain’s attention enough to break his concentration and let his quirk’s grip loose. Uravity used the chance to punch the villain and put him in cuffs. She stood up, the villain lying on the ground below her, and let out a relieved sigh. The heroes pulled the man to his feet, leading him down the alley towards the police sirens going off in the distance. After dealing with turning the villain into the police, the hero’s checked the time to realize their patrol shift was up. They both headed back to the agency, and unfortunately, had paperwork waiting for them both.

“Hey Bakubro, are you ready for the secret santa?” Kirishima asked, leaning his body weight against the hero sitting at his desk. Bakugo straightened his posture under the weight of who he could only call his best friend.

“I’m not doing it.” He grumbled, reading over his progress on the report before sighing and turning in his chair to face Kirishima, he needed a break anyways.

“How come? You gotta do it, it’s part of the holiday fun!” Kirishima exclaimed, his smile blinding.

“Because I don’t want to.” Bakugo responded nonchalantly. He reached back to pick up the coffee cup from his desk, a plain white mug with the words ‘Fuck off’ on the bottom, displaying his mood to any bitch that watched him take a sip. Bakugo downed the rest of the caffeinated liquid, scowling at the taste of cold coffee.

“Strange, I thought Uraraka told me that you were doing the secret santa this year.” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Bakugo’s back cracked as he stood and stretched, moving his head side to side to pop his stiff neck as well. “I need more coffee.” He groaned, heading for the employee lounge to make another cup. Hopefully one more would be enough to get him through the day.

“You should probably get something else man, that much caffeine will keep you up all night.” Kirishima insisted, following Bakugo through the office. It was late already, maybe an hour and a half before everyone started to go home. The sun outside the large office windows was close to beginning to set, the sky a nice yellow color.

Bakugo responded with a grunt, knowing that Kirishima was right, but he was too tired to care. Who would have thought that paperwork could make someone so tired, way more tired than the several small time villains he took down over the day. There weren’t even any damages or casualties for any of them! If that was the case the paperwork and reports would have doubled, maybe tripled in size. No one ever told him in UA that being a hero required so much awful desk work.

Tiredly Bakugo took the kettle off the stove and filled it with water, setting it back on the burner, he turned of the flames and leaned against the counter to wait for the shitting thing to go off. Damn office didn’t even have the good kind of coffee, not even a coffee maker, just that instant crap along with shitty powdered creamer. It was annoying, such a high time hero agency didn’t even spend the little bit of extra money on a fucking coffee maker? Fucking cheapskates. To the side he could hear Kirishima digging in the fridge for something, probably a snack that he brought that someone had taken or moved without his permission.

“Oh, Bakugo there you are!” A bubbly voice broke the mild silence in the room.

“What do you want 3D printer?” Bakugo asked, greeting Yaoyorozu as she walked into the room. She didn’t even react to the nickname, used to what Bakugo called everyone at this point.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You need to pick your person for the secret santa.” She explained, a basket with folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m not doing it.” Was his simple answer. The kettle began to scream, signaling the boiling of the water. Bakugo turned off the burner and poured the hot water into his mug, reaching for the coffee powder on the shelf above.

“Your name is in the drawing.” Yaoyorozu pointed out, holding the basket out to Bakugo.

“I didn’t put it in.” He growled, beginning to get pissed at how much people were asking him about this fucking event. Then it clicked, “Fucking round face.” Bakugo sighed and turned back to Momo. “I’m dropping out then.”

“You can’t, then that leaves someone without a gift.” Momo pushed the basket closer to Bakugo’s chest. “ Just do it Bakugo?” She pleaded, giving a small smile in hopes that it would get the temperamental hero in front of her to give in.

“Do it man! It’s fun!” Kirishima encouraged, holding up his own slip of paper between two fingers.

“Fine! I’ll fucking do it. A gift card should work just fine for anyone right.” Bakugo grumbled, shoving his hand into the basket and pulling out the first slip of paper he grabbed. Unfolding the slip revealed the name “Who the hell is Izuku Midoriya?”

“T-That would be me.” A small voice stuttered from the doorway, a mass of green hair and star like freckles making its mark on everyone in the room. Mostly Bakugo, because damn was he cute. Fuck! No! Stop thinking like that! You don’t even know him!

Uraraka peeked from behind the other, her face like the cat who caught the mouse. And Bakugo was the mouse, because he fell right into her clutches, and that pissed him off.

“When I get my hands on you, you’re gonna regret it.” He growled, but the threat was met by snickering from the bubble faced girl who knew she was won the fight for now.

“Oh c’mon Blasty. Put the aggression in your pocket and meet our new team member!” She exclaimed, patting the nervous looking man on the back.

“H-Hi.” Midoriya stuttered, smiling nervously and giving a little wave.

“He’s a quirk analyst! He’s the one that warned us during that one fight.” Uraraka smiled, pulling Midoriya closer to her in a friendly side hug. Midoriya flushed at the contact, fiddling with the name tag that hung around his neck. Several pens and pencils were clipped to the lanyard, along with a few hero buttons, among them being All Might, Ingenium, Froppy, and Ground Zero. This guy was a nerd wasn’t he. Bakugo turned to finish making his coffee, scowling at the water in his mug that had cooled significantly by this point. He glanced at the jar of coffee powder in his hand and finally decided against it, putting the jar back and instead grabbing some green tea. Cooling tea at least tasted better than cooling coffee, that shit just tasted nasty.

“What’s a quirk analyst?” Kirishima asked, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s someone who analyzes quirks and figures out how they work. Most of the time people in the profession have analyzing quirks that can help them better understand what’s going on in a person’s body when they use their quirks. I’ve actually been very eager to learn more about all of your quirks, more than I already have that is.” Midoriya explained, still playing with his name tag. He seemed a bit less nervous now, good, people who were constantly nervous got annoying real fast.

Bakugo took a sip of his tea, throwing out the used tea bag. Thank god the water was still warm, anything as disappointing as cold tea would throw off his already teetering mood even more.

“More than you already have?” Momo asked, setting the basket of names on the table and taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“Um, I’ve kinda already studied them quite a lot. I watch several news feeds and just about any footage of uses of your quirks that I can find and then I figure out whatever I can from those bits of information. I know the basics at least of how your quirks work.” Midoriya muttered in response.

“Oh! Oh! Do me! What do you know about me?” Kirishima jumped at the chance to see what Midoriya knew about him. Damn eager idiot.

“Let me see…” Midoriya trailed off, reaching behind him and pulling a worn notebook from his back pocket. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the one titled “Red Riot, Quirk: Hardening. You can harden your body to withstand almost any attack, and very few singular attacks have knocked you off your feet in that state let alone got the chance to harm you. Prolonged use of your quirk weakens your ability to use it, and over time of taking multiple hard hits it will begin to fail. Your body becomes very sharp when you use your quirk and that itself can be used a weapon. Hand to hand combat has been growing better and better since UA and by now you’re a very hard hitter that can be useful in both defense, rescue, and attack positions as a hero.” Midoriya read off, drifting into a bit of a muttering state.

“Wow, you really do know your stuff!” Kirishima said, amazed at just how much this guy knew about his quirk.

“It’s not really much, I just observe what I can and write down what I see.” He flushed, closing the notebook and shoving it back into his back pocket. “ I hope that I can help all of you, especially when it comes to villains. Thank you for allowing me to work with you all.” Midoriya bowed, smiling before taking his leave.

“He seems cool.” Kirishima commented enthusiastically

“Seems like a nerd to me.” Bakugo retorted, taking another sip of his tea, using his other hand to rub his aching head.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Uraraka interjected. “He’s so nice though, and super nice. You could learn a thing or two from him hot head.” She smirked. Her shitty bubbly face pissed him off, but he didn’t feel like doing anything about it now, he was way too tired.

“Shut up rosy cheeks.” Bakugo retorted, wanting nothing more than to be home right now. “I need to finish that last report, but mark my words, tomorrow I’m gonna kick your ass in sparring.” He passed a light glare at Uraraka as he passed her.

“Just try it Fireworks!” She called out the door toward Bakugo’s retreating form.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakudeku #bakugo katsuki #izuku midoriya #this is so bad!#i lowkey hate this

41 notes · View notes

rosegardentwilight · 5 years

Text

A Moment in Time

Adrien's jaw dropped from slight bewilderment at why such a gorgeous girl would randomly sit down at his table and start talking away. The only problem? His name wasn't Adam.

AU- Alya sets Marinette up on a blind date with a guy named Adam, but after a phone incident and the time change, she ends up crashing at a different table thinking it's her date.

Chapter 1/1 ( for now? Read the Author’s Note at the end)

A.n.- Two one-shots in one day, what? ( If you haven't read Birds of a Feather and you like Nathalie's character then go read it ). I've actually been working on this story on and off since last week? Finally finished and posting today because tomorrow is daylight savings time so it seemed fitting. ( Although this takes place in the spring time change). Make sure you read the end author's note if you want to see more of this story after reading it, it's very important. Other than that not much for you, this is AU, no superpowers but I do find a way to incorporate our two favorite Kwamis ( just not this chapter).

Edit*- This story was inspired by a movie called An Hour Behind. And although inspired, it will have several major changes from the movie.

2. You all rock. Will definitely expand this story. Heard you loud and clear I’ll figure plot lines for this tomorrow.

"Come on Marinette, it's one date," Marinette couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend's excessive begging and slid a new batch of cakes in the oven. "I didn't even pick him this time, he's Nino's old college friend. What's the worst that could happen?" Alya continued as she swiped a chocolate chip cookie from the display.

"My best friend eats all my product, and then I won't have any left for paying customers," Marinette shot a look at her best friend who responded with a sheepish smile.

"If you bring some of your cookies to your date with Adam, you'll bag him for sure."

"How many people do you know that bring baked goods on a blind date Alya?" Her best friend's intentions were pure, Alya only wanted to see her happy, but a blind date- that was a disaster waiting to happen.

"You're showing all of your assets to prove you are the whole package." Marinette couldn't hold back a snort filled laugh.

"I'm starting to wonder what you think will happen on this date."

"You'll love him Marinette, he's a lawyer, but he handles most of the pro bono cases in his firm. He's a cat person; which I know is in the plus column for you. He's drop dead gorgeous and has the greenest eyes."

"I hope those weren't Nino's exact words because otherwise you two have other things to discuss," Marinette teased.

"Please, just one date. You know I only want you to be happy, and you can't say you had the best love life over the past couple years; between Kim, Nathan"-

"I get it," Marinette snapped. She knew exactly how those dates went, no need to rub salt in the wound.

"Marinette, I'm convinced you try and find something wrong with every person interested in you."

"I've been busy with the bakery, opening a second store is within my grasp. I can't give up now."

"No one is saying give up. It's one date tomorrow night," her best friend offered.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"I learned my stubbornness from one of my best friends." Alya beamed in response.

"Fine. One date, but in the morning. That way I can route back to the bakery if things don't go well and bake a couple of batches and not waste the day."

"You won't regret this!" Alya threw her arm around in a tight hug. "I'm going to go tell Nino to set it up and have the details for you tonight. Promise me you won't be late. We both know how you are in the mornings. Don't forget to change your clock tonight." She called over her shoulder as the last reminder. Marinette rolled her eyes once more, Alya was as subtle as a truck. As much as she appreciated it, the level of faith in her was almost insulting. Her phone would automatically switch to the new time, there wasn't any need to adjust anything. The oven's timer caught her attention, and she rushed so her cakes wouldn't burn.

Nerves kicked in as she realized what she's done. What was she thinking to agree to a blind date? The regular dates that she set up ended with disaster.

She only made it through one date with Kim. He tried to carry the conversation the best he could, but with her limited knowledge of sports, the topics circled back around to himself. Marinette always wanted to look on the bright side, so even though she wouldn't go on another date, at least she learned more about him.

Nathanaël lasted to date number 5. They enjoyed each other's company, but things became stagnant when he confessed that seeing an old flame caused previous feelings to bubble up again. Marinette appreciated his honesty, but it was clear that he wanted to try again. She couldn't stand in the way of that.

Marinette applied some strawberry frosting to the cooled lemon cake and cut herself a small slice. The flavors melded together on her tongue, a hopeful reminder of what spring could be once the cold weather melted. But despite how it tasted, it still lacked whatever she was looking for to submit for the contest. Frustration groaned inside her, but at least she was another step closer. Her eyes ticked to the clock on the wall; 9:30 pm. She could easily make another batch, especially without Alya distracting her. She pulled out the ingredients needed once more, one more attempt couldn't hurt.

By the time Marinette stumble through her apartment door exhaustion had inched its way to every part of her body. She was lucky to remember to turn the oven off before she left her bakery because she created four more batches before giving up for the evening. An unread message from Alya kept lighting up her phone, no doubt the information to the blind date she had agreed to in a temporary moment of insanity.

Ayla: Tomorrow, at the Hollybelly 5 at 9 am. He's going to wear a light blue scarf. If you need moral support, I'm only a phone call away. Knock him dead!

Suddenly this idea seemed even more insane, but to avoid her best friend's nagging at her for the next month straight; she decided to follow through with her word. She set her alarm for 8:30 to give herself enough time to prepare in the morning. She became acutely aware of how the sweet scent stuck to her skin, as tired as she was, the shower called to her.

She let out a gasp as she stepped into the wall of warm water and the relaxation it provided. Four more batches of "almost there" was the product of her night along with a messy kitchen she had to clean before she came home. It wouldn't have been fair to leave that to the staff when she had been the one to cause the mess in the first place. Her fingers itched to run through her hair, and she released a long exhale. This contest was of vital importance if she desired to open a second store, a dream of hers since her parents put her in charge of the original. She had sacrificed so much to oversee the store and she wanted to do was to make her parents proud.

The shower ended quicker than she would like, but she could barely keep her eyes open. She grabbed a glass of water on the way to bed in case she woke up in the middle of the night. Sleep slowly caused her eyelids to grow heavy, not allowing her thoughts to wander far. Marinette adjusted her arm under the pillow and contorted it until comfortable. The act of her shifting her body caused another pillow to knock some items on the nightstand, including the cup of water. It tipped, and the water contents spilled all over her phone; not that Marinette noticed because sleep already claimed her.

8:45 am

The hostess turned wearing a dazzling smile when she heard the bell above the door ring. "Good Morning, do you have reservations?"

"Yes, last name Chapin, Adam." He returned the smile before loosening the light blue scarf Alya told him to wear. Excitement stirred in his stomach, Alya had raved non-stop about her friend, and by the sounds of it, she was exactly the type of women he was looking for. He hadn't necessarily thought he would stoop to a blind date to find love, but he trusted Nino and therefore, Alya.

Adam followed a waitress to his table and took his seat and glanced at his watch. He was always early to everything in his life, to be late screamed distasteful and unprofessional; both words he couldn't associate with in his profession. He hoped that Marinette didn't keep him waiting for long.

9:30 am

Adam had heard of being a little late, but this boarded on ridiculous. The waitressed eyed him like an injured puppy when she brought him a drink after twenty minutes. He could feel people staring at him, but he kept his gaze locked to his phone. Thankfully work kept him preoccupied, but 45 minutes had elapsed since he arrived. His fingers dialed Marinette's number which Alya had provided but met a voicemail.

Her eye burst open as light burst through the room. Why did it feel so late, why didn't her phone's alarm go off? A quick glance told her all she needed to know. A spilled cup with no liquid in it whatsoever, and a phone whose screen would not lite up no matter what she did to it. Marinette cursed under her breath as she shoved the blankets off her bed and made a mad dash for the kitchen. 8:30 am. She wouldn't be skinned alive by Alya after all. She jolted back to the room and grabbed a pink dress off its hanger and threw it on. Not wanting to deal with the hassle of styling her hair, a messy bun offered her the solution that she craved. There was no need to eat breakfast at the apartment since they had a morning date, so that left brushing her teeth and applying just enough makeup to be presentable on a date. She didn't want to scare the poor guy off before anything before giving him a chance.

9:45 am

He waited long enough. Every second he waited for her, it drew attention to the face he was still alone after an hour. Everyone paying attention to their surroundings knew that he had been stood up. He wished that Marinette at least had the decency to inform him that she changed her mind, but out of the worst possible scenarios, this one seemed less cruel. Whenever he looked back on this failure of a date, he wouldn't be plagued with one-sided feeling but instead the what-ifs of what could have been. He slid payment for his drink on the table and stood up. The office wouldn't mind a couple extra hours especially with the huge case he was working on.

Marinette rushed down the street, the restaurant was only a couple blocks further, and she would make it on time. She hated being late, a probably she usually dealt with due to exhaustion with the bakery. Luck could be the only word to describe how she woke up in time. With no phone, it wasn't like she could call anyone, it would take days before she could find the time to go get a replacement. But with the little distance, she had left to cover, her bad luck with being late would end today.

10:00 am

She stumbled through the door only two minutes late, a new personal record for her. The hostess didn't seem that impressed with her "graceful" entrance.

"May I help you?" She asked, but Marinette could sense the smallest sense of annoyance in her voice.

"I-" A light blush dusted her cheeks as she realized she forgot to ask Adam's last name. "I'm meeting someone." She allowed her eyes to wander over the hostess' shoulder until they landed on a blonde sitting at the table and around his neck …was a blue scarf. Her breath hitched as she watched his piercing green eyes study the menu. Alya wasn't kidding, he could charm her in a courtroom anytime. "He's right over there." She rushed past the hostess not wanting to keep Adam waiting any longer than necessary. "Hi, I'm Marinette," she introduced herself wrapping her coat around the chair. It was a good thing that she gripped the chair the second his green eyes jumped up to meet her all feeling gave out in her leg. She would have to thank Alya for setting her up with the more gorgeous man she ever met.

"Um, hi," he replied. Either she caught him off guard, or he didn't have a way with words, neither was a deal breaker. This was a blind date, he had to be just as nervous as she was.

"Adam, I'm sorry I'm a couple minutes late, my phone got fried last night." The explanation sounded lamer coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't backpedal now, that would only creep him out. She needed to stand her ground and resist the word vomit of oversharing. "But none of that matters because you're still here." A man like him could have any girl that he wanted, and yet he stayed despite her lateness, maybe they could make it to date number two after all. "Have you ordered yet?" She asked looking over the menu for the first time she got there.

"Not yet." She cocked her head to the side and tried to focus on what food they had to offer. Not a lot had been said and this already beat out her date with Kim.

"Everything looks so good, what do you recommend?" Adam had picked a restaurant she had never been to before, but he must have liked it enough to recommend it.

"I usually get an omelet," he replied. Marinette fought the blush forming on her cheeks as he gave her a once-over glance before his gaze returned to the menu.

Adrien's jaw dropped from slight bewilderment at why such a gorgeous girl would randomly sit down at his table and start talking away. She approached as if she knew him but called him Adam; she seemed so warm and personal he didn't want to correct her and risk her leaving. He would correct her eventually, or she would figure out that he wasn't this Adam character and the natural course would have its way.

She motioned towards the waiter and started to order without a care in the world. His father had wanted him to visit that afternoon, no doubt his latest attempt to convince him to leave his current job and join him in the fashion industry. An hour or two with this beautiful mystery girl in front of him wouldn't be the end of the world.

"Adam?" At her second call, Adrien realized that she called him- or rather, thought she had. "Are you okay?" The way she was so concerned for his well-being spread warmth through every limb on his body.

"Yeah," his lips pushed back into a smile reflecting the emotions flowing through him. "Everything is perfect."

AN- So. Here's the deal. Right now, this is only a one-shot, but you can change that if you want. I have so many miraculous story idea that I can't expand on every one shot in my head, but I am willing to do it on the stories that you all are interested in. If you want more, like, reblog, comment, dm me, whatever you want to do and let me know. Here's what to expect if this story to continue, the rest of the Adrienette date, Marinette finding out that Adrien is not Adam (and will actually meet Adam). More backstory of the characters in this world and Adrien shamelessly pursuing Marinette in like 10 chapters of fluff. Sound good? Leave a comment. Otherwise, you can enjoy the potential story in your imagination. Let me know.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #miraculousfanfic #miraculousladybugfanfiction #adrienette #adrien x marinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupen-chang #latetodateau

64 notes · View notes

scriptura-adrepticius · 6 years

Text

Ride or Die - Lin Yanjun

Posting a few days early because I finished editing! I hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing this :D

Pairing: Lin Yanjun x OC/reader

Series: Types of People

hailstorm boy and church girl

credits to @95fahrenheit and @la-petitefille

Genre: fluff, angst, gang!au

Triggers: mentions of death, murder and drinking, but nothing graphic

Word Count: 4.2k

Yanjun doesn’t know why he let himself get so close to you. All he knows is that he doesn’t think he regrets it.

Masterlist | Types of People

lin yanjun could step on me and i’d thank him

The church girl at school isn’t exactly a church girl. You aren’t religious. But Yanjun thinks of you as a church girl because you always seem so at peace, the feeling that churches give him when he walks past.

You are a quiet beauty, a calm smile, the fresh smell that comes up from the ground after it rains. You are the smell of freshly-mown grass, the sound of tinkling bells, the wonder of the early morning sun.

You are a contrast to Yanjun, and perhaps that is why he is so drawn to you.

The first time he sees you is in the rain. The sky is dark, the clouds are gray, and it’s pouring. He himself is seeking shelter, huddled under an umbrella, trying to get home as soon as possible.

He almost misses you across the street, walking on the other side. In fact, if you’d been huddled over just like him, Yanjun probably wouldn’t have taken notice.

It’s your posture that first catches his attention. You don’t have an umbrella but you’re walking like you would on a clear day, not hunched over and running like everyone else. Yanjun looks up, surprised and more than a little intrigued.

And then he sees your face. You’re vaguely familiar, and he thinks he may have seen you somewhere, but your familiarity isn’t what makes him continue to stare.

It’s the fact that it’s dark, it’s raining, it’s dreary, and yet… you’re smiling.

Smiling.

It’s not a dopey smile, like that of someone in love. It’s not a smile that indicates your thoughts are elsewhere. No, your eyes are very much open and you’re very much aware of the pouring rain. Yet you’re smiling at the sky as though it’s given you a gift.

Yanjun slows a little, trying to watch you as he walks. He’s a straightforward person- when he’s interested, he watches. He won’t hide it.

As though in slow motion, you look around, rain running down your face and soaking your clothes and hair, and for a moment, you catch his eye.

For a moment, one blessed moment, you stare at him, smiling that beautiful smile. Yanjun feels himself trapped in place by your smile and the peace and joy you exude, even across the street.

For once, Yanjun feels at peace as he stares into your eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

The spell is broken when you turn away, still soaking, to continue down the sidewalk. Yanjun only has a minute to choose a course of action.

To his surprise, he finds himself crossing the street, heading over to you and putting his umbrella over your head.

You look up, startled at the boy next to you. Yanjun wants to keep that face frozen in time, because it’s so cute and wonderfully innocent, such a stark contrast to the life he lives.

“You’re going to catch cold if you continue without an umbrella, love,” he says, giving you a half smile.

You laugh, a soft, cheerful sound that is so out of place on this dreary day, and Yanjun almost melts.

“Perhaps,” you shrug, “but I don’t mind.”

Yanjun likes the way you speak. Simple, casual, yet with a refined air that makes you seem… otherworldly. Like you don’t belong on this planet.

And when you smile up at him, the calmness and joy you radiate only confirms that thought.

. . . . .

The hailstorm boy at school is flirty, confident, smooth with his words, and has a resounding laugh. He wears mostly black, dyes his hair strange colors, and has piercings in each ear. He is beautiful, in a dangerous and thrilling way. He is very much the opposite of you.

You knew who he was, that first day he spoke to you. The campus bad boy, the guy with supposed secret tattoos and gang affiliations, the guy who doesn’t seem to pay attention in class and yet attains high grades.

It wouldn’t have surprised you if he didn’t know you existed before that rainy day. You keep a low profile at university. You prefer to quietly take notes, quietly give people comfort, quietly smile, and quietly blow everyone out of the water.

Of course, people do know you. They know you as the girl who always has a smile on her face. The girl who always aces the tests. The girl who always provides care no matter what. The girl who always emanates a sort of calm whenever people are around her. The girl who always likes strange things, but that just adds to her… charm.

It’s a good reputation, and you like it, so you take care not to destroy it.

One strange thing you like is rain. You don’t enjoy having to change out of soaked clothing and running the risk of getting a cold, but for you, the rain is beautiful. You like to watch the way it slides down the leaves, how it dots the grass blades, and you like the feeling of it running down your face.

That day, you just forgot to bring an umbrella, despite having known before that it was going to rain. But you don’t mind much. It’s refreshing to just feel the rain on your face.

So you’re pretty surprised when the feeling stops, and you hear the thud of rain hitting an umbrella instead.

As far as most everyone else is concerned, you and Yanjun are pretty much polar opposites. Yet when he comes over to you with the umbrella and you look up to see him shielding you from the downpour, you can’t help but think that perhaps you two aren’t as different as everyone thinks.

“You’re going to catch cold if you continue without an umbrella, love,” he says, eyes flickering to your soaked hair and clothes.

You shrug, doing your best not to blush at his name for you. “Perhaps,” you reply, “but I don’t mind.” You smile at him and he smiles back, keeping the umbrella over both of your heads. “But thank you. I forgot my umbrella today.”

“You’re welcome, uh…”

You snicker slightly. He doesn’t know your name.

“Yu Qiuyue.”

“Qiuyue.” He says your name hesitantly, like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. “I’m Lin Yanjun.”

“I know,” you say. Yanjun’s expression turns confused, then embarrassed, and you have to hide a laugh.

“How-”

“Same school,” you interrupt, carefully leaving out the part about how everyone knows the name of the campus bad boy.

Yanjun gets even more embarrassed and you laugh, patting his shoulder. You barely reach his neck, so it’s a little difficult, but you manage anyway. “I’m not offended, Yanjun.” It’s funny to see the the flirt so flustered, but to put the poor boy’s mind at rest, you change the subject. “So is this even the way you get back?” you ask. “You were on the opposite side of the street.”

He shrugs. “No, but you don’t have an umbrella and I can easily walk home again.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, eyebrows crinkled and worried. “I can walk to the dorms on my own. I don’t mind the rain.”

“I didn’t think so from your beautiful smile,” Yanjun replies, making you cover your mouth, blushing, “but like I said, you could catch a cold.” Then he flashes you that crooked grin he’s so famous for. “Unless you don’t mind me warming you up.”

You choke on air while Yanjun watches on in amusement. But even though you know he’s flirting, you can’t bring yourself to mind much at all.

. . . . .

It’s been months since that first encounter, and now after your first date, Yanjun wonders how he never noticed you at school before that day in the rain. Surely he’d seen you at some point, he thinks, but how did he not remember you?

It’s not that you’re particularly beautiful in any way. Pretty, perhaps, but not gorgeous. You have a sort of quiet delicateness that Yanjun likes, but it isn’t that notable, no offense to you. No, you don’t stand out with your physical appearance. Rather, what makes you memorable is your unique aura, your unique peacefulness, your tranquility.

You give off a calming presence that Yanjun hasn’t felt since his mother died, since his father died, since his sister moved away to attend a different university. With you, he feels safe. Which is a stupid feeling, because he knows that he’ll never be safe, not with his past, but…

He sighs, placing his head in his arms.

Yanjun knows he shouldn’t continue to see you. He knows he shouldn’t continue speaking to you. He knows that if this keeps happening, if you stay in his life, he’ll endanger you too.

But Yanjun’s selfish. He knows he is. Everyone is, to some extent. And Yanjun has given up so much for others that he can’t help but yearn to keep you close.

You’re good, you’re pure, you’re calm, you’re beautiful. You shouldn’t be tainted by someone like him.

Yanjun can’t help but think it’s too late to pull away, though. You’ve already ensnared him with your golden net, and there’s no way for him to untangle himself. And he’s not even sure he wants to.

He can’t continue this. He just can’t. He can’t bear to bring pain upon one of the few people who’ve accepted him for who he is, wholeheartedly and with love. Considering he could count that number of people on his hands, and two of them are dead… well, Yanjun doesn’t want you dead. The thought itself fills him with cold terror.

But then… what else can he do?

A sinking feeling fills his heart.

He should’ve cut things off sooner. After that day in the rain, he should’ve left you alone. Never spoken to you again. But he’s already asked you out, you’ve already accepted, and you’ve already been on your first date. He can’t break things off without causing you even more pain.

Thunder claps, and rain begins to pelt the dingy window. Yanjun looks miserably up at the dark sky.

“It’s too late,” he whispers.

. . . . .

Your hailstorm boy is amusing, flirty, teasing. He’s dashing, handsome, beautiful. He’s strong, funny, and absolutely breathtaking. There are so many reasons to fall in love with him.

But what makes you fall for him isn’t his flirty smile, his loud laugh, his tousled hair that so many girls want to comb their fingers through.

Rather, what makes you fall for him are his eyes.

Lin Yanjun’s eyes are turbulent, intense, and full of so many emotions that you could spend years, decades, even centuries trying to decipher them all. He smiles with his eyes, laughs with his eyes. They are fierce, passionate, and as you continue to admire him, you can never quite figure out if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Lin Yanjun is breathtaking. He is fearless. But above all, he is deadly dangerous. He hasn’t said anything, but you know he has his secrets. You’re not too eager to find out what they are, but if that one tattoo on his collarbone means anything…

You were warned from the beginning not to get close to him, not to fall for him. To this day, you’re not quite sure how you began falling for the hailstorm boy. He just spoke to you that one day in the rain, and then you spoke with him at school, and slowly, gradually, your thoughts became consumed by him.

By now, it’s too late for you to pull away. You talk to him, you laugh with him, you listen to him, you see the hailstorm boy in so many ways other than the façade he presents to the rest of your peers. When he asked you out, you didn’t hesitate to accept.

Lin Yanjun has caught you in a storm, and you’re whirling right into it. Yet for some reason, you don’t want to break away.

You’ve fallen for the hailstorm boy.

. . . . .

Yanjun is pretty sure something is going to go wrong. Nothing’s happened yet in the six months you’ve been dating, which is exactly what’s freaking him out.

“Yanjun?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

Yanjun realizes he’s been spacing out for about a minute or so. “Nothing.” The smile he gives you is supposed to relieve you of any concerns, but if anything you look even more worried.

“Lies,” you state.

Despite his worries, Yanjun can’t help but stifle a grin when you look at him like that. Your face is so different from your usual serene expression, and it’s funny to him.

“I’m serious, Yanjun.” You lean forward over the small table, eyes dark with concern. “You look like something’s bothering you. You’ve been like this for the past month.”

Why do you have to be so perceptive all the time? So observant, so contemplative, so intelligent? It just makes things harder for him to hide.

“Like what?” he stalls.

You tangle your fingers in his, scowling a little. “Like... this! Absentminded, moody... you’re always zoning out, like something’s on your mind.”

“No, I’m not,” Yanjun argues, knowing full well that you’re right but refusing to back down.

All you do is raise an eyebrow. It’s as though you’re asking him, “Do you think I’m stupid?” And Yanjun knows you’re not.

But he also knows that he doesn’t want to tell you. Not now. Not yet.

“Nothing’s bothering me, Qiu.” He hopes that by calling you by your nickname, you’ll be placated.

It sort of works. You do quit questioning him, but he does catch you eyeing him worriedly as the day wears on.

To his surprise, nothing really happens. At least, not on the date. You part ways with Yanjun a street away from campus. Nothing’s strange. Nothing’s happened.

Yet.

It’s late and Yanjun’s tired, so he’s not very able to defend himself when Zhangjing falls into step with him a few blocks from home.

“So who’s this girl?” Zhangjing asks casually, as though they were talking about the weather.

Yanjun’s blood turns to ice, but he forces himself to breathe normally. “Someone’s seen us, haven’t they.”

Zhangjing looks at Yanjun like the tall boy is dumb, which he really is, considering just how far he’s gone with you. “Yes. What were you thinking, going on outdoor dates like that? Come to think of it, what were you thinking when you asked her out first?!”

Yanjun flinches slightly. Zhangjing raises his voice a lot, but it’s usually in jest. When he’s berating Yanjun, well, it’s not as fun.

“I don’t know.” Yanjun’s apartment comes into view and he pulls open the door, climbing up the metal stairs. They clang under his feet and smell of rust. He wrinkles his nose.

He can feel Zhangjing’s resentment and sympathy radiating off him. It just makes Yanjun feel worse.

“How could you have brought her into your life, Jun?” Zhangjing asks quietly. “You just endangered her and yourself. Not to mention Ruiyan, too.”

Yanjun is tired enough that he doesn’t even bother to hold his tears back. Instead, they just roll down his face, one drop after another. “You don’t need to remind me,” he says harshly.

“If you want to keep her,” Zhangjing says, easily keeping pace with the taller boy, “you have to tell her.” He fishes in his pockets for the spare keys Yanjun gave him and unlocks the door to the apartment.

“I know.” Yanjun sighs, wiping away the tears. “I will. Promise. Just… keep them away until I have, okay?”

Zhangjing nods.

“And if she chooses to leave…” Yanjun swallows. “Make sure it’s clear that she knows nothing. Please.”

His heart twists, but Yanjun knows that if you choose to stay away, he will respect your decision. He will not follow you, no matter how much it hurts.

. . . . .

“So are you going to tell me why you were acting so weird on our last date? And the date before? And the one before?” You raise an eyebrow at Yanjun, who looks… nervous. It makes you nervous as well, having mostly seen him in his confident or sweet state.

He nods silently. You follow suit and shut up, waiting for him to talk first.

Yanjun finally sighs, looks down, then looks up at you again. You feel bad for questioning him when he looks so tired, but he was the one that asked you to come over here.

You realize it’s your first time in his house. It’s a small place, clean but bare. There’s not much stuff anywhere. At first glance, it’s not very Yanjun-esque, but after a little thinking, you realize the scene fits him more than you originally thought.

“I…” Yanjun sighs again, bringing your attention from a small desk back to him. “I shouldn’t have let us get this far.”

You frown, unsure if you’re hearing correctly.

“Let me finish.” Yanjun holds your hand across the table, playing absentmindedly with your fingers. “Qiu, love, you’re a great person. And I really love you.” A small smile plays on his lips, but it disappears when he looks back up at you. “But for some time… I’ve been wishing we never met.”

“Why?” Your voice is barely audible, but in the quiet room it seems like you’re shouting.

In response, Yanjun pulls his shirt down slightly, revealing the small tattoo on his collarbone that you’ve always wondered about. It’s a small nine with his name underneath. “Not all of the rumors on campus are false.”

“You’re part of a gang.” It’s a statement, not a question. His silence confirms it.

“Yes.” He stops, then takes a sip of whatever’s in his mug. It smells like alcohol, and you have to resist the urge to remove the mug from his hands “I had to join to protect my sister. She’s the only member of my family I have left.”

You remain quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I guess it’s better if I start from the beginning.” Yanjun’s thumb traces small circles on the back of your hand. “I was born in a… really shady place. Gangs pretty much ruled the place. My dad… he was a doctor for the small clinic there. He treated everybody, so my family got along without having to choose sides. The clinic and our home were neutral territory.”

You watch Yanjun’s mouth twist, his eyes darken, his teeth clench. You feel his hands squeeze yours just a bit tighter.

“But then another gang came in.” His voice is filled with bitterness and pain, and you squeeze his hand as a weak sort of comfort. “Clearly they didn’t get how things worked. They asked my dad for drugs, figuring as a doctor, he’d give them up. He didn’t. Hell, he…” Yanjun chokes up. “He didn’t even have what they were asking for. So they killed him. And my mom.”

It takes Yanjun a couple minutes to compose himself, and then he continues relentlessly, as though he’s determined to get everything out. “My sister, Ruiyan, and I, we didn’t have my dad’s medical skills. Rui was able to do some of the small stuff, like cleaning and stitching wounds, but I couldn’t do much. So we took the savings we had, and I got sent off to university first. I was pretty good in school, so it was easy for me to get a scholarship, and working for gangs pays... a pretty good amount. So I tried to make some money too while Rui was finishing high school. Then I got a message saying I had to go back, because Rui was being attacked.” He takes another sip from his cup.

“We didn’t have protection anymore after our parents died,” he continues. “I’d stupidly believed that they’d leave us alone, at least until we could get out. But anyway, Rui still had three years left of high school, and I was barely able to stay afloat as it was. I couldn’t move back either. So I met Zhangjing, another member of Nine Percent. He proposed that I join. Thus Rui would get protection from the gang.”

“Nine Percent?” you echo.

“They had nine members before,” Yanjun explains. “One got killed and one made a new life for himself, no one knows where he is. So now, including me, there are eight members. They’re looking for a ninth.”

You nod.

“I was desperate.” Yanjun looks at you, and the pain in his makes you believe him. “So I joined. I won’t tell you about the initiation, so don’t ask. But long story short… I have enemies now. Which is why I wish I’d never met you.”

You nod slowly.

“I didn’t - I don’t want you to get hurt,” Yanjun says hopelessly. “But I was selfish. I let myself go with you. I let myself fall in love with you. I’m terrified of something happening, but…” He trails off, then continues. “I couldn’t find any easy way to break this to you. So I didn’t say anything. But Zhangjing knocked some sense into me after our last date. People know about us.”

You nod again. “So last time you were worried about something happening, which is why you acted so weirdly.”

Yanjun smiles slightly, but it’s so different from his usual flirty grins and sweet smiles. “So now you have to make a choice. You can break things off with me right now. I promise, I swear that I will not try to find you again. You’ll be safe, since you know nothing.”

“And the other choice?” you prompt.

He swallows. “Your other choice would be to stay with me. You’d be putting yourself in a lot of danger. I would do my best to protect you, but I can’t guarantee your absolute safety. I don’t know why you’d choose that, but there it is.”

Yanjun’s smile is bitter and painful. It hurts your heart to see it. It’s clear that he already expects you to choose the safe option.

Instead, you hold Yanjun’s hand even tighter. “I’ve never told you about my past much either, have I?”

He shakes his head slowly.

“My parents were killed a couple years back in a car crash.” You smile sadly, allowing the memories to wash over you again. “I’m an only child. I have no close relatives.”

Yanjun looks up slightly.

“How dangerous do you say it’ll be?” You squeeze his limp hand with both of your own.

“We could be killed any minute, if anyone found out the location of this apartment or your dorm.” Yanjun’s mouth thins into a line. “You’d have to learn to use a gun, maybe a knife. You’d need to be able to defend yourself.”

“Would I have to kill?”

Yanjun swallows hard. “I would do my best to keep that from happening. But yes, it’s possible.”

You nod. “Thank you for telling the truth.” A small smile forms on your lips. “I suppose I’ll have to move out of the dorm, then?”

“Wait.” Yanjun’s eyebrows furrow, and he stands. So do you. “So you want to stay with me?”

“I thought that was obvious.” You look at him blankly. “Do you not want that?”

Yanjun runs a hand through his messy hair, looking hopeful yet frustrated. “I do,” he says, his voice strained, “but I don’t think you realize just how dangerous this will be.”

“Will I have to go through initiation?” you ask. “Into Nine Percent, I mean.”

“No,” Yanjun replies. “You’ll have protection as my significant other, but that doesn’t mean other gangs won’t target you.”

You nod. “Fine.”

There’s a short silence, and then Yanjun explodes.

“Why are you taking this so calmly?!” he half-yells, startling you. You jump slightly, then force yourself to remain still. “I…” His eyes fill with tears, and he sinks back down into the chair, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Yanjun,” you say softly, walking over to him. He doesn’t look up. “Yanjun, look at me.” You brush his unresisting hand away from his face.

“I have no one left to live for except you,” you say slowly. “Only you. Everyone else is gone.”

“But-”

“Let me finish.” You cut him off. “I love you, Lin Yanjun.” You look steadily into his eyes, red from tears. “And I’m not going to let you shake me off so easily.”

“Do you know why I love you so much?” You don’t wait for an answer. “Because you’re honest. You’re kind. You’re funny. You’re awkward. You’re beautiful. You’re cute. You’re genuine. I love your stupid smirk, I love your stupid crooked smile, I love that you care so much for everything, even if you pretend you don’t. I love your loyalty, how you always strive to protect the ones close to you. Hell, you joined a gang to protect your sister. I love you too much to let you go.” You grip his hands tight in yours. “And I can take care of myself. I know that you’ll try to protect me, but if you can’t…” You swallow. “I can defend myself. Or, I will be able to defend myself.”

Yanjun gazes deep into your eyes. “Are you dead set on this?” he whispers. “You can still turn back now.”

“Lin Yanjun, have you ever known me to back out of a decision?” You raise an eyebrow.

He laughs a little, wiping his eyes. “No.”

“Exactly.” You wipe away a stray tear with your thumb, smiling. “What makes this time any different?”

“Wow, I love you,” Yanjun murmurs so softly you can barely hear him. Then he crushes your body against his, burying his face in your hair. You stay that way for a few minutes, not wanting to move and disturb the embrace.

Finally, Yanjun breaks away and stands. He helps pull you up and you face him, eyes serious and determined.

“Love…” Yanjun takes a deep breath, hands on your hips. “Qiuyue.”

You shiver slightly when he says your name.

“With me, it’s ride or die.” He looks you dead in the eye, his eyes intense and full of millions of emotions. “Are you absolutely sure?”

You stare at his eyes. The emotions swirl around in his dark irises, and you think to yourself that you wouldn’t mind taking a few years, decades, centuries to decipher them all.

“You think I can’t keep up?” you challenge, a slight smile on your lips. “Are you doubting me, Jun?”

He doesn’t answer, still staring at you. The faintest trace of a smile quirks his lips.

“Yes, Yanjun,” you breathe. You nod once, then twice. “I am absolutely sure.”

#ninepercentnet #nine percent #idol producer #nine percent scenarios #nine percent lin yanjun #lin yanjun #fluff #angst #gang!au #triggers #death #murder #drinking #series #lin yanjun scenarios #banana culture entertainment #types of people #ride or die #scriptura-adrepticius

94 notes · View notes

nyangibun · 7 years

Text

Jon x Sansa; The Drowned Rat Conundrum

Inspired by this fic.

Summary: Jon meets Sansa one rainy afternoon right after she gets dumped by her girlfriend and he becomes acutely aware of his more than inappropriate attraction to her despite knowing she's not into guys. It only gets worse when Sansa turns out to be as fun to be around as she is beautiful. So, of course, that means Jon's life is officially over and he hates everything.

When Jon meets Sansa for the first time, she’s drenched from head to toe, wearing a large ratty hoodie and black leggings, with mascara smeared down her cheeks. As first appearances go, it’s not great, and considering she’s also sobbing uncontrollably, Jon shouldn’t find her as attractive as he does, but Sansa Stark is beautiful regardless of what condition she comes in. In fact, the drowned rat look is actually sort of cute on her, if she wasn’t crying and if his heart wasn’t breaking just by hearing that sound.

It’s a universally known fact that Jon doesn’t do well around crying girls or women. He’s awkward enough as it is around them when they’re happy. This is uncharted territory. He grew up as an only child with a dead mother, an absentee father and a boarding school full of boys.

But Sansa is crying and she’s standing there on his front stoop looking for all the world like someone had just thrown her puppy into the middle of traffic, so he approaches slowly.

“Um… hello?” Jon says, immediately berating himself for such a dumb opener. “Are you okay, miss? Do you need me to ring someone for you?”

Her eyes snap to his and they immediately narrow with wariness. Even though she’s the one crying in front of his house, Jon suddenly feels like he’s intruding. “Who are you?” she snaps irritably. “Do you live here? Is my brother home?”

“Brother?” Jon repeats, just as sudden clarity strikes him like a jolt of lightning. “You’re Robb’s sister! Sansa? Or is it… Arya?”

“It’s Sansa,” she answers, though still wary.

Well, Jon can’t blame her. Robb is friends with Theon and he’s a creep, so he’d be wary of Robb’s friends too. But the girl is still sniffling and looking sorely in need of something, so Jon raises his hand and gestures towards the door. “He should be home soon. I can make you a cup of tea while you wait?”

Sansa gives a small nod, her expression softening slowly, and as he leads her through the house, gives her a cup of tea (with two spoons of sugar and a good dash of milk), the softness is there in her eyes and lips and it just about takes his breath away.

God, Jon muses to himself. He’s never had such an instant reaction to someone before and he’s still too inexperienced with girls to know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Sansa says after a moment of silence. She’s sitting on the opposite sofa from him with one of the throw blankets wrapped around her. Jon is unbelievably glad that he had thrown it into the wash only a few days prior.

“It’s Jon,” he answers. “Jon Snow. I’m… Well, obviously I’m Robb’s housemate.” He chuckles nervously. “I uh… I also play rugby with him.”

“Oh,” she nods, taking another sip from her mug. “I know you. Robb talks about you.”

“Hopefully good things?” Jon hedges with a smile.

But Sansa doesn’t hear him because she abruptly drops the mug to the coffee table and angle her entire body towards him. “Jon, you like girls, right?”

“What?” He’s too incredulous to answer, and to his horror, his whole body begins to flush just from that question alone.

“I mean you’re into girls, right?” Sansa asks again, a bit more forcefully this time. He nods, which gives her prompt to continue. “Then tell me, tell me why girls like playing games so much. Is it because they’re incapable of committing or is it just me, you know?” Sansa runs a hand through her hair and growls. “We were together for eight months! Eight months. And before that, she knew I was wary about getting back into a relationship but she promised it’d be different. And then she goes and… Well, what kind of person just wakes up one day and says they’re in love with someone else? Who does that!”

Her voice had gotten steadily higher and higher the more she told him, and while he commiserates with her heartbreak, Jon is aware of one thing and one thing only: she’s not into guys. And just like that, what unexpected and unwanted hope that had seeded itself into his mind the moment he saw her wilted and died. Then to add insult to injury, Jon is immediately wracked with guilt because here’s Robb’s sister confiding in him over her girlfriend and all he’s doing is having creepy thoughts about her.

Jon grounds his teeth and forces the thoughts away. He is not a creep. He is not going to get upset because one girl out of a million just happens to fancy girls as well. More power to Sansa for being so open and confident with her sexuality. Right?

God, he thinks, he’s an asshole.

“I… I don’t think that’s exclusive to girls,” Jon says, and immediately regrets it when she throws him a sharp look. He puts up his hands in defence. “Sorry. I just mean… there’s always going to be those people who will come into your life just to break your heart.”

She arches her eyebrow as if to say, ‘what are you on about?’, so Jon continues, stumbling over his words like the idiot that he is.

“What I mean is I don’t want you to… close yourself off. Because that’d be bad, a shame really, and you deserve to be happy. Really happy with someone. So I just wanted you to know not all girls will break your heart. That’s it.”

Sansa stares at him for a beat before she starts chuckling. “You’re really bad at this, you know that, right?”

He rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I’ve never had to do this before!” he grouses. “Most of the time when one of the lads is going through a breakup, I just take him to the pub and we get pissed.”

“So let’s go.”

Jon drops his hands, and this time, he stares at her for a long second. “What?”

“To the pub,” Sansa says, as she stands up. “Let’s go right now.”

“Don’t you want to wait for your brother?” Jon asks hesitantly, though he stands up as well, realising he’s probably going to be unable to deny this girl anything.

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Honestly, he’s worse than you. I don’t know what I was thinking coming to him.” She chuckles again. “I guess I just thought he might be able to help because he knows Margaery as well, but he’d probably muck it up and I’d just feel worse.”

“Right…” Jon contemplates what he’s about to suggest, but then he decides it’s not about him today, it’s about her. “Pub then?”

Somehow in the months since helping Robb’s little sister drown her heartbreak in tequila, Sansa had become a permanent fixture in his life. She’s always at the house, either to pester Robb into doing something, or she’s in his room quietly studying or watching a film with him. And in that time, Jon finds that Sansa is smart, her wit as sharp as a knife, and she’s also compassionate, warm and loving, with heart far too big for her chest. He is also excruciatingly aware of how attracted he is to her and how utterly off-limits Sansa is. Even if she isn’t only into girls, she’s also Robb’s little sister and friendship or not, Robb would punch Jon in the face for even thinking about her in a way that isn’t platonic. Of course if Sansa is into boys as well, Jon would happily be punched in the face for her, but she isn’t and that’s the biggest problem. He’s crushing on someone he can’t have and it’s making him feel rotten and gross when he knows she only sees him as another big brother.

But Jon supposes he’d still rather have Sansa in his life than not, which is the only reason why he agrees to go to a Halloween party with her where her ex-girlfriend will be, so he can be there for her. In a totally platonic way.

It has to be said though that Jon hates Halloween and so he’s made zero effort in dressing up, which is the first thing Sansa comments on when she sees him.

“You’re not even trying, Jon! What the hell are you even supposed to be?”

Robb snickers by his side, dressed as bloody Flynn Rider from Tangled. But Jon’s too busy trying not to stare at Sansa’s corset-hugging dress that shows far too much cleavage to be conducive to his mental state. She’s Queen Mary Stuart from that historically inaccurate show she loves so much and there’s a red flower crown on top of her head. He’s not sure how anybody is supposed to guess what she is, but she definitely looks like a queen. Jon would certainly ride into battle for her.

“I’m Han Solo,” Jon says with a wry smirk. “Look, I have a gun and this vest thing.” He pulls at the black vest to show her.

Sansa huffs and swats at his arm. “Pathetic. Honestly, pathetic.” She then looks to her brother and pretty soon the two devolve into some age-old argument over the best Disney princes that Jon immediately tunes out.

They walk into the house party, the main foyer already filled with drunk people swaying this way and that, and the bass of some pop dance music reverberates throughout the room. Robb disappears almost as soon as they walk in, apparently to find his date, who is the Rapunzel to his Flynn tonight. And if Jon puts his hand on the small of Sansa’s back, it’s only to guide her through the throng of people towards somewhere they can breathe and maybe find some cups for their drinks. It’s totally not because she’s gorgeous and undeniably the most perfect woman he’s ever met.

“Do you see her?” Sansa hisses to him. “I don’t see her. She’s here though. She posted on her stupid Instagram.” They find the refreshments table just fine and grab two cups to pour their vodka punch concoction. Sansa downs the first drink in record time. “Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. That’s the couple costume she has with this other girl. It was my idea! Margaery doesn’t even like comics.”

“You don’t either,” Jon points out.

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because she punches him, hard, on the shoulder. “Well, no, but that’s not the point. Are you on my side or not!”

Jon wraps an arm around her and smiles. “I’m always on your side, Sans.”

Her reciprocating smile is just as fond as his and he wishes more than ever that he could just tell her how he feels. But that, he knows, is a wasted effort and he should probably try harder to move on. No one needs to have their pseudo big brother perving on them.

The night surprisingly is uneventful. Margaery does show up with her new girlfriend an hour into the party and Sansa exchanges pleasantries with them up until they walk away when she hisses to him that Margaery’s new girlfriend makes for a lousy Poison Ivy because ‘she’s not even a redhead, Jon; Arya says that’s blasphemy!’

By one-thirty, Sansa is so drunk he decides to call for a cab and take her home. He’s waiting for her outside of the party when Margaery sidles up next to him with a near-passed out girlfriend in tow.

“Jon, was it?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He’s polite and friendly, but out of solidarity, he tries not to be too friendly.

“Does she know?” Margaery asks, a twinkle of something Jon doesn’t like in her eyes.

He plays dumb. “Know what?”

“That you’re in love with her.” But when Jon doesn’t immediately respond, Margaery continues, laughing. “Word of advice, if you don’t want to tell her, you might want to dial back the longing looks.”

Before Jon has a chance to defend himself, Margaery jumps into a car with her girlfriend and their friends and disappears down the street. He’s still incapable of speaking when Sansa returns and they get into the cab in complete silence. Thankfully, Sansa is too drunk to notice and she passes out, her head resting on his shoulder, a minute into the ride back to his place.

The next morning with much more (sober) clarity, Jon decides Margaery’s right. He can’t keep doing this to himself. Or to Sansa. She’s not into him, and no amount of pining is going to change that. He needs to get over her and to do that, he needs to put distance between them. So with a heavy heart, Jon texts her. Simple and clear.

Hope you’re feeling okay today. Got a few exams and courseworks to work on so gonna be busy for the next month. Will text you the all clear after.

Like he expected, Sansa does text back, but he doesn’t answer. And he knows her so well now that he can predict when she has enough free time to swing by the house and he makes sure he’s at the library when that happens. Of course Jon still sees her from time to time, but the interactions are different. They’re less intimate. She never stays the night anymore; she never just walks into his room and flops onto his bed after a bad day; or ring him in the afternoon to gush about the cute dog she saw on her run earlier. In fact, they’re practically strangers again after a month goes by of Jon actively doing his best to avoid her. He knows he’s obvious and perhaps that’s why she’s distant with him too, like she can’t quite understand what he’s doing but she’s too proud to admit she’s hurt.

It goes on for awhile that even oblivious Robb starts to notice and that’s when it all goes goes to shit.

They’re at rugby training. They only have one last tournament before Christmas holidays, but that’s a whole month away, so they’re just playing an easy skirmish between each other. Robb’s on the opposite team and when the whistle blows and the rugby is passed to Jon, Robb’s there, sprinting and tackling him to the ground with so much force it knocks the wind from Jon’s lungs. He lies on his back, wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath, as Robb stands over him with a scowl on his face.

When Jon finally is able to speak again, he jumps to his feet and shoves Robb back. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck?” Robb repeats incredulously. “I could ask you the same thing! What the fuck are you doing with my sister?”

Jon stares, blinking rapidly, unable to process the question. “What?”

“Why the fuck have you been avoiding her?” he asks. “And don’t give me that bullshit excuse you gave to Sansa because I know you don’t have any big exams coming up.”

He rubs a hand over his face and pointedly ignoring the stares of their teammates around them. “It’s none of your business.”

“She’s my sister!” Robb shouts. “She’s always going to be my bloody business! Now tell me the truth or I swear to god I’ll kick your broody ass, Snow.”

Jon shakes his head and begins to walk off of the pitch. Robb immediately follows and shoves him again when they reach the sideline. Jon stumbles for a bit but gains his balance quickly before turning around. “Stop that.”

“Then stop being a prick and just tell me the damn truth,” Robb says. “And for fuck’s sake, have the goddamn decency of actually breaking up with my sister in person instead of just ghosting her!”

Wait, what?

“I’m not dating your sister…” Jon says, but his words trail off like a question. He’s too dumbfounded by Robb’s assumption to think of anything better to say, like maybe ‘no, they’re not dating,’ and ‘Sansa is into girls, you tool.’

Robb rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You two aren’t subtle! You’re always staring and smiling at each other and ugh, sneaking off to your room. Did you think I was dumb or something?”

“No, no,” he quickly says. “We’re just friends. It wasn’t like that!” Jon’s head is such a whirlwind, he just completely loses hold of his filter at this point. “Your sister’s not into me like that. Do I wish that she was? Sure. But I never crossed that line with her. What kind of creep do you think I am? I’m not one of those assholes that hit on lesbians just to prove my masculinity or something, alright?”

There’s a long tense pause as Robb continues to glare at Jon before he suddenly bursts out laughing, the slapping his thigh, doubling over kind of laughter too. This only perplexes Jon more.

“What?”

“You’re… a… fucking idiot!” Robb exclaims between laughter. He wipes at the tears forming in his eyes. “My sister is not a lesbian. She’s bi, ya moron.”

“What!” Jon says, eyes growing wide, as his heart begins to ram loudly in his chest. “Why didn’t… why didn’t anyone tell me that!”

“Because you never asked,” Robb points out. “So wait, you’re telling me that you’ve been pining after my sister all this time because you thought she was only into girls?” Jon nods and he laughs again. “Fucking moron.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gathered that,” Jon groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Uhuh,” Robb nods. And then he smiles, a devious, terrifying smile before punching Jon square in the jaw. “That was for messing with my sister’s feelings because you’re too much of an idiot to just ask. And that was also preemptive because I assume now you’re actually going to go boink my sister.”

Jon frowns and rolls his eyes. “Did you honestly say boink?”

“Just get the hell out of here!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without even telling his coach, Jon runs from the pitch, grabs his bag along the way and hails a cab to Sansa’s despite the fact that he has a bus pass for this very purpose, but the buses are slow and unreliable and he needs to see her right now.

Although it cuts the journey in half, it still takes him ten minutes too long to get to Sansa’s house. But he jumps from the cab and runs up the steps to pound unceremoniously on the door. It’s six in the evening on a Thursday and he so desperately hopes that Sansa is home. She could be out with her friends. When no one answers right away, Jon knocks again, louder this time. He’s about to do so for the third time when he hears movement coming from inside the house.

The door peels open and there standing in a ratty hoodie and black leggings is easily the most beautiful person Jon has ever seen.

“Jon, what happened to your–”

“So I’m a moron,” he cuts her off. “This isn’t anything new, really, but this time, I really, really fucked up and I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” Sansa says warily. “What happened to your face?”

“It’s not important,” Jon waves off. “I came here to tell you that… shit, okay, I’ve never actually done this before so I’m probably going to muck it up too. But right…” He takes a deep breath. “Sansa, I’ve been mad about you from the first moment I saw you and it drove me crazy that I couldn’t have you because here’s the thing, I wrongly assumed you were only into girls. Not that you being also into boys means I can have you now. If you’re not into me, that’s fine too! And we’ll be friends. If you still want to, that is. I know I’ve been kind of a cock lately and stuff, but I’d rather be friends with you than not, okay? Shit, please just say something.”

There was an imperceptible look on her face, and for a long while, Sansa said nothing. She just stared at him with that impenetrable mask and it was doing a number on his nerves. But finally, with relief and dread, she sighs. “You really are a moron. You should’ve just asked me or asked Robb or asked anyone.”

“I know,” he admits, bowing his head in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“But you know what pisses me off the most?” she says. “It’s not that you just assumed my sexuality without asking, but the fact that you blew me off without ever giving me an explanation. I thought…” Sansa’s voice broke but there’s steel in her eyes so Jon doesn’t dare try to comfort her. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. That maybe I did something wrong. I thought that maybe you found someone else, someone better to be with like Margaery did.”

“Jesus, no!” Jon took her hands in his and implored her to listen. “Sansa, there isn’t anyone better than you. Trust me, I’ve looked and no one even comes close. I’m so sorry. I’m so bloody sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. But you have to know you’re the best thing to happen to anyone. You’re… I mean you’re Sansa Stark. You’re… everything.”

A faint smile pulls at her lips and Sansa’s cheeks flush pink. “For someone who’s not so great with words, you did quite well there, Jon.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” he braves with a smile of his own.

Sansa shakes her head. “Not even close.” But before he even has a chance to feel heartbroken, she throws her arms around his neck. “But now you can make it up to me whenever you want.”

Jon laughs as he wraps his arms around her waist. “Oh, trust me, I won’t ever stop.” And without any further prompting, Jon dips head so he can fully kiss her the way he’s wanted to four months ago.

It’s too early to say those three little words, but the minute his lips press against hers, Jon knows he’s gone. Completely and utterly gone for this girl. And frankly, he doesn’t care one bit. Sansa is his perfect little drowned rat and he’s not letting her go.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #jonsaff #jonxsansaff #jonsa fic #my fics #long post #the ending is shite #idk what this is tbh #but hey ho #bisexual sansa #is my jam #<3

88 notes · View notes

generallynerdy · 7 years

Text

All I Ask of You (Bucky Barnes X Reader, TBT Special, Part 1)

Summary: A Marvel High AU! Because that’s original! You, reader, have had a huge crush on Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, jock, since the day you met him. Your best friends, Natasha and Bucky, have tried to convince you, since that very day, that he isn’t who you think he is. In a stroke of luck, your crush, your best friend, and yourself end up cast as one of the most historic theater love triangles; Christine, The Phantom, and Raoul. Dealing with a bad past, living with your best friend, having to share a bed with said best friend, and also finding out a secret about the same friend that has to do with you were not on your list of ideal events this year.

Key: (Y/N)-your name

Today’s Playlist: Literally the entire Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack. But mostly the main theme, All I Ask of You, and Past the Point of No Return.

Cast: YOU! Bucky (James) Buchanan Barnes, Tony Stark, and basically every other MCU Avengers Character. (Note: I wrote this a long time ago, so some characters weren’t in the MCU at the time)

Warnings: Language, Extreme Overload of Theater Kid-ness, Bad Poetry

Status: Complete

Note: *Cringe* Okay so this was one of the first one-shots I EVER wrote, so I decided to post it as a Throwback Thursday type thing and I’m sort of regretting that. Screw it! Imma post it anyway.

As a theater kid with singing abilities, it was my sworn duty to audition for my high school’s rendition of The Phantom of the Opera. What I didn’t expect was for both my crush and my best friend to audition as well. What was even more surprising was when we all landed the main roles.

James was Raoul, Tony was Erik, and I landed Christine.

This should be fun.

I gasped as Nat pulled the cast list away from my face, smirking. “Congrats, (Y/N). Should be an interesting show.” I ripped the cast list from her hand and reread the list of characters multiple times as Nat’s expression only became smugger.

“There is no way!” I looked at her for confirmation.

“Yes, way.” Nat nodded. “You, the biggest playboy known to Marvel High, and your childhood best friend, who swore he couldn’t sing, by the way, landed the most historic love triangle in theater history.”

“I wouldn’t say the most historic,” I mumbled under my breath.

Nat ignored my comment, “Not to mention that the playboy just happens to be your crush of a few years, though I have no idea why.”

“Natasha Romanoff,” I chided, “You have no right to judge my choice of men.”

She gave me another smug look and raised her eyebrows, “No, but I can judge your choice of boy.”

I found James right after school. He had been avoiding me all day, but I had my ways. Steve was quick to take my bribe.

Steve blocked James from exiting out the back door of the school, where we usually left school together. I smirked to myself, knowing that if Nat were here she’d slap the back of James’ head for such a stupid move.

“C’mon, Steve, please just let me out.” James groaned, begging.

Steve shook his head loyally, arms crossed. “Sorry, Buck, you know I can’t do that.”

James sighed, “What’s she giving you this time?”

Steve glanced at his feet but didn’t reply. I took this as my cue and turned the corner into the hall. “Brownies.”

James turned, frowning in defeat. Steve regained his confidence and relaxed a little, “You still need me, (Y/N)?”

I smiled at him. “Nope. He should stick around now. Thanks for your help, Cap.” I used his schoolwide nickname and gave a little salute. As captain of the football (American, sadly), it was appropriate. He rolled his eyes and walked out.

“So, Bucky-” I said dramatically, walking slowly toward my best friend. “Raoul, huh?”

He sighed, “Uh huh…”

I paused and we sat in silence. Then I burst out, ignoring my earlier decorum, “You should’ve told me!”

He smiled, knowing that I wouldn’t be angry for long. “I’m not sorry. I don’t think I’m that great, anyway.”

I scoffed, “Said every talented person ever.” He rubbed his neck self consciously until I grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. Well, as best I could his strength. “SHOW ME!!”

Bucky smiled devilishly, “You’ll have to wait ‘til practice.” He started toward the door.

I frowned at the sing-song way he said it and followed him out the door, intending to continue bugging him about it. Unfortunately, the moment we stepped outside, Bucky broke into a run. I sighed and chased after him.

We did this often as our sort of daily exercise, though Buck and I still ran with Steve and Sam sometimes. As football players, it was their duty. And me? I just don’t like being left behind.

I was practically hopping up and down in my chair when the first practice began. I stopped when Tony walked in, though, because I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.

Our director split us up into three groups. About one-third of the cast, including Tony, hadn’t seen the movie and were sent to watch it. Another third had seen the movie but needed to refresh their memory of the songs. Bucky surprised me by being in the final group with me.

Since our group was ready to begin practice, our director assigned us songs to work on. She wanted us to work on duet or group members since we had the whole cast today. Tony and the others I had numbers with hadn’t watched the movie yet, so I could only work with Bucky. I didn’t mind, though. In fact, I was ecstatic.

“Sing! Sing! Sing!” I chanted, waltzing circles around Bucky in the practice room.

He chuckled, “(Y/N), I don’t even know what to sing.”

I scoffed, “Raoul only has a couple big numbers with Christine.” I pointed to myself. “How about we try All I Ask of You?”

He blushed a little, “Really? The romantic one?”

I rolled my eyes, “Wow, Buck. Can’t even pretend to be in love with your best friend.” I taunted his acting abilities, hoping that he would give in.

“Fine.”

I cheered and hugged him around the neck. After setting up our music on my phone (Bucky had a flip phone, the old soul), we prepared to sing.

Bucky took a deep breath from where he stood, opposite me. “No more talk of darkness-” He blushed when he noticed my jaw drop. With that silky smooth voice, he should’ve been on Broadway by now. It took him a moment to get the right key and he didn’t sing very loudly, but it was still impressive.

“Forget these wide-eyed fears-” I zoned out a little, listening to his voice and his verse passed quickly. “I’m here with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.”

I cleared my throat and began to sing. “Say you love me every waking moment-” Bucky smiled brightly at hearing my voice and I blushed deeply. He really knew had to make a girl feel great about herself.

The song was over much faster than I wanted and Bucky had to go work on another number.

I heard slow clapping behind me and turned to find Tony there. “Damn.”

“H-How long have you-”

He smiled, “Just caught the last verse. You have a pretty voice, (Y/N), is it?”

I nodded, blushing. “T-Thanks.”

“Actually, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, weird as it sounds.” He said, causing my heart to skip a beat. “I was wondering if you want to hang out sometime?”

My heart caught in my chest, “S-Sure!”

Tony’s smile brightened, “Great!” He handed me a slip of paper with some digits on it. “Call me.”

With that, he was gone. And I was dead.

“HE WHAT?!”

I giggled at Nat as she tripped in her ballet shoes after hearing my news. “He invited me to hang out with him.”

“(Y/N), you can’t!” She exclaimed, standing once again.

I put my hands on my hips, “And why not?”

“Well for one,” Nat counted on her hand, “He’s sexist, a jerk, a playboy, and the only good things about him are his looks and money.”

“You forgot the genius part, Nat,” I added, frustrated.

She snorted, “Maybe in the classroom. He isn’t very street smart.”

I sighed, “Nat, could you please be a little supportive?”

“No! You’re going to get hurt, (Y/N), and as your friend, it’s my job to prevent that!”

I clenched my fists. “I know what I’m doing, Nat! Stop trying to replace my mother!” I suddenly grew furious with her. Any other day I wouldn’t have been so upset.

Nat’s expression immediately formed into sorrow and regret. “Shit, it’s today, isn’t it-? (Y/N)!”

My vision grew clouded with angry tears as I stormed off, heaving my backpack onto my shoulder.

I had stopped by the ballet/dance room to tell Nat what had happened and was now forced to walk the entire length of the school before leaving. This subjected me to inevitably pass every one of my friends.

I first passed two of my teachers, Mr. Fury and Miss Hill. I noticed the latter look at me sympathetically while Fury kept a stoic expression.

I then almost ran into Vision, who looked on confused. No one knew his real name. We just called him Vision because of his, and I quote, “insight into the vast world around us”.

I stormed past the art room, barely giving Wanda any time to realize I was there. Bruce was too caught up in his work to notice me enter and leave the lab, where Tony would be if we hadn’t had practice today.

Most of the guys were outside, in the exact direction I was leaving.

Thor was on his way to football practice. “(Y/N)!” I ignored him. “Perhaps now is not a good time…” He mumbled to himself.

Once outside, I passed T’challa and Scott Lang, who both looked confused, but decided not to pry.

Pietro was running around the track before he noticed me and ran alongside me. “(Y/N), are you-?” He was cut off by a field goal who decided to sneak up on him.

“(Y/N)!” I heard three voices call me. They had to be Bucky, Steve, and Sam. I was just as fast as them if I pushed myself, so I burst into a full-on sprint.

I ignored Clint’s protest, then worry and confusion when he almost shot me with an arrow as I ran in front of his targets.

I finally reached the school’s front gate and, instead of opening it like a normal person, hopped over it with little effort. Sam couldn’t jump the gate, so he would probably stop there while Buck and Steve continued. I continued my mad dash into the city and started to cross the street. Unfortunately, idiots weren’t rare on the roads.

I stood like a deer in headlights as a black truck sped toward me. I thought for sure it was over until I was knocked to the side and the air from my lungs escaped me entirely. I felt myself land hard on the concrete. My ears rang and my head throbbed, but I managed to stand. Steve was rubbing his temples, kneeling near the ground where I had just been. I saw him and immediately began to run again. They couldn’t help me.

I kept running as the noises and pain overwhelmed me. My ears rang, my head throbbed, and my entire right side cried out in pain. The engines and honking of the cars, the roar of voice, and basic sounds of the city contained my mind.

I needed quiet. I need to think and I needed to breathe. I needed my mother.

He found me under the cherry tree by the lake about 5 miles from the city. The plot of land belonged to my father. I hadn’t seen him for years and I didn’t care to either. I had always been afraid that he would come back to find me and haunt me. The last time he had been in the city was to bury my mother under the same cherry tree I sat below, 8 years ago to the day.

Since then, I had been living in Bucky’s apartment. As long as he could remember, it had just been him. He had always survived on his own. My mother and I were some of the few people to help him along and Bucky felt it was his duty to return the favor.

He approached silently and sat down next to me, criss-cross style. The only noise I heard from him was a quiet sigh as we gazed silently at the dead roses that drooped near the cherry tree’s trunk. They were the only marker of my mother’s existence besides myself and a couple old pictures. I had never changed out the roses. To be honest, it was a miracle they hadn’t blown away yet.

We sat in silence for a few moments before Bucky put his hand on my knee calmly, which I could tell meant that he was there for me and he wanted to help. I gave in and hugged him, sniffling.

“She’s just being careful, you know?” He sighed, “She’s just trying to take care of you.”

I grunted.

“Yeah, she could be more supportive, I agree, but you can’t blame her too much for taking care of you.”

I sighed, exasperated.

“She couldn’t have known it was today.”

I was silent.

“I know you’re sorry, (Y/N), but she doesn’t. Can you apologize to her? Please? That’s all I’m asking.”

I whined a little, mumbling something.

Bucky laughed, “Fine, home first. Nat second.”

I smiled a little and he stood. Bucky always understood what I was trying to say, even if it wasn’t with words. He reached for my hand to help me up and I gladly took it.

“C’mon, (Y/N). Let’s go home.”

“Bucky?” I mumbled, turning from my side of the bed to face him.

“Hm?” He murmured, eyes still closed and ignoring me from his side of the bed. Yes, we shared a bed. No, it was not romantic. It was completely platonic and friendly. As orphans, and two teens who couldn’t land great jobs because of our age, we didn’t have a lot of money for anything other than necessities.

We were working on getting two separate beds, but things had been slow since Bucky lost his job at Baskin Robbins when it closed down. I hadn’t held a job for months thanks to Bucky’s insisting he could handle the bills by himself, which was utterly ridiculous. So, I planned on putting out a job application to a couple places soon.

“Is Tony a jerk?” I asked, nervous about our ‘date’ the next day.

Bucky opened one eye, sighing. “(Y/N), do you think he’s a jerk?”

“No..?”

“Does he make you happy?”

“B-Buck!” I got a little embarrassed talking about it.

He rolled his now open eyes, “I’m not asking much, (Y/N), just that. Does he make you happy?”

“I-I guess so..I haven’t had enough interaction with him to tell, I think.” I answered slowly, trying to decipher my feelings.

“That’s all that matters,” Bucky said simply before sighing and closing his eyes again. “Now I want to sleep, (Y/N), so leave me alone.”

I scoffed, “You are such a grouch, Bucky.”

He grunted like an old man, “Yeah, you meddling kid, now get off my property!”

I burst into giggles and closed my eyes, too. “‘Night, Buck.”

“Sleep tight, (Y/N).”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” I teased.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore. I’m not eight.”

“Aww, dang it.”

So Tony and I went on our date and had an amazing time- beyond amazing. We went out a couple times after that, thus becoming what we teens like to call ‘a thing’. At least I think that’s what we’re calling it still? I dunno, it changes all the time. I guess you could say he was my bae if you really want to call your significant other crap in Danish.

Natasha tried to convince me that he was an asshole, constantly piling recordings and quotes onto my desk at school. Bucky, however much he despised Tony Stark, was respectful and gave me my own space.

“How can you just sit while she gets hurt?!” Nat yelled at him furiously.

Bucky put a hand on her shoulder to stop her pacing and freaking out, “Nat, chill. He hasn’t hurt her yet.”

“Yet!” Nat exclaimed, “But we both know he will, James Buchanan Barnes!”

He rolled his eyes, “She’s capable of taking care of herself, Nat. If things get bad, she’ll get herself out. As friends, we’ll get her out of trouble when she needs it, but it isn’t our place to tell her who she should and shouldn’t date. Besides, we shouldn’t assume he’s going to hurt her just because he’s... imperfect. No one is perfect, you know.”

Nat scoffed, “You really want to bring him down, don’t you.”

Bucky glanced around the room as if looking for someone, then sighed. “Fine, yes.”

Nat smiled devilishly, “Got a plan, lover boy?”

“L-Lover boy?” He stammered, “Where did that come from?”

“I think you know.” She said, before clearing her throat. “Anyway, plan?”

Bucky sighed, “Just gather all the evidence you’ve got and wait awhile until he...makes a dumb move. Then I’ll tell you what to do.”

“So in other words, wait ‘til she catches him making out with some other girl?”

Note:

I’m not sure when I’ll post Part 2, probably the next time I get a Thursday post. If everything turns out right, that should be not next week, but the week after. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Part 2 is here!!

Requests are always open!

69 notes · View notes

maddieson-san · 7 years

Text

KogKag Week Prompt #7

Kogkag Week 2017

Prompt 6: AU / Free day

A/N: College!AU. I sorta did both? I’m so sorry about this. As I mentioned I have been having the worst day. I KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE ASKED THIS. So, to answer, yes, I plan on continuing this PAST the KogKag Week. I just can’t guarantee when the next part will come. I do want to edit it before it’s officialy posted, but we’ll see.

ALSO.

Guise.

I’m sorry.

“Woah!”

The sound of the loud voice echoing through the room was enough to stir Kagome from her rest. Unfortunately for her, it meant that she was now plagued with the worst headache of her existence. She was unable to open her eyes due to the violent pounding in her head, and she fairly certain that the little bit of content in her stomach wanted to come up. Oh god. She lifted the blanket above her head, trying to shield her eyes from the light invading the room. When had it gotten so damn bright? Also, why in the world was Sango screaming? And what time was it? And where was she? Oh god. Alcohol. There was a reason why she had stayed away from that in the past. She did not want to be in this kind of state for something that was not even worth it in the first place… And yet, she had apparently done it without any limits last night.

“Sshhhh,” was all she managed to say.

“Oy.”

Wait - that was not Sangos’ voice. This time she was forced to emerge herself out of the darkness she had enveloped herself in so that she could see who’s voice it was. There was no way she had a brought a stranger in her room. She was not that stupid. Through her half open eyes, she managed to scan the vicinity. She could see her comforter all bundled up at the edge of the bed, and then hair - a long ponytail - dark hair. Oh. She knew that hair. She knew it a little too well.

“Kouga?”

Ow. Why did she say it so loud? She held the side of her head with her hand while closing her eyes once more. Too bright. Too loud. Too dead.

Meanwhile Kouga twisted his neck to the left and the right, hoping to get rid of his muscle spams. He arched his back, hearing it crack as he did so; that felt a little better. He might be a youkai but it did not mean that he enjoyed sleeping with his neck crooked all night. He was going to feel it today. He ran his large palm over his neck, rubbing it, before trying to scramble to his feet. When had he turned into such a moron? He had fucking fallen asleep on her floor. He had really meant to leave but then… his own tiredness had claimed him. Granted his alcohol tolerance was much better than hers but… he had pulled a few all nighters to be able to get his magical A. The one that granted him his lovely evening of yesterday. Still, now he had screwed it up. Fuck, that was going to be a fun one to explain.

“Mornin’,” he answered with a raspy voice, forcing him to clear his throat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to… interrupt,” Sango said with a smirk on her face.

Miroku was right behind her, his eyebrows raised. Sango had casually mentioned that Kagome might have someone new in her life, but he had been certainly of the truth of the statement. Now, he was forced to believe it with his own eyes. He did not think their innocent little Kagome could move so fast. Good for her. It was time that she moved on - after all, their friend Inuyasha had done it at an amazing speed.

“W-what! No.”

Nothing had happened. Alright, her brain was killing her and her memory was a bit fuzzy - and oh god was she dehydrated - but she knew one thing for sure; she did not have sex with Kouga. First of all, she was not this kind of person and well he was not either. He might be a flirter and a charmer, but he was not this kind of person. She might not have known him for a long time, but she did not think he would take advantage of her. She was home after all. If he had wanted to try something, it would have been much easier to do so at his own place. He actually went through all the trouble of bringing her home.

“It ain’t like that.”

He knew her friend probably did not mean anything by it, but his honor was wounded. He was a better man than that and he would not take advantage of a drunk woman. It was not his style. He could get a sober woman if he wanted and it would be a lot more fun. Plus, he actually wanted something with Kagome. He would not waste his chance - a chance she had not even decided to give him yet - by trying something while she was drunk.

Kouga managed to make it to his feet, using the edge of her bed to raise himself up. “You were a little tipsy last night. I brought you home, and I fell asleep. Sorry ‘bout that.” He truly did not mean to do - but she had asked him to stay and - and then it had followed its natural path and he had fallen asleep like an idiot. He was fairly certain he would be getting a few comments from the guys on his way back as well. Great.

Through the pain, Kagome managed to offer him a little smile. “I’d thank ya if you were not responsible for the pounding in my head.”

He chuckled. “That ain’t on me.” His goal had been to get her away from alcohol and to make her eat. It had not exactly worked according to plan but he had not purposefully gotten her drunk - the only exception was during their little game.

“I didn’t-“

Did she drink? No, well. Maybe a little. Oh god.

“Do you guys have any aspirins?” he asked while looking at Sango.

“I do.”

She was not a drunk by any means, but it had happened to her a few times that she had gone over her alcohol limit forcing her to nurse a painful hangover the next day. She could not believe that her little Kagome was finally having her first hangover. Of course, it was a bitch, but in her case it meant that she was actually doing some progress and Sango could not be any prouder. She also was pleasantly surprised that Kouga turned out to be a gentleman. She had not known that her best friend was going to a party. If she had known, she would have at least kept an eye on her and checked up to make sure she got home safely.

But now, Kagome had another person looking out for her.

She rushed to bathroom and returned with two little white pills along with a glass of water. “This should help.”

“Is it going to put me in a coma until I feel better?” she whined as she took both items from Sango.

Oh god. Would it ever stop? Would she feel like this until the rest of her days? What if she never felt better? She could die in this moment. “Please. Please, everybody in this room needs to promise that they will never let me near alcohol again.”

The laughter was produced in unison. “I don’t know you’re pretty funny when you’re drunk.” The actual word he wanted to say was affectionate, but he kept that to himself. He did not have to share everything.

Oh no. What did she do that she did not remember? “Kouga…”

“I kid, you didn’t do anything.” Except ask for a piggyback ride, ask him to stay… maybe a bit of snuggling.

“If I didn’t already feel like I was dying, I would die.”

Her insides were churning, her face was on fire and her entire body was drumming with a new level of pain that she was not familiar with until this very moment. Oh god. Wait, no it was going to get worse, a lot worse. She felt the bile rise up her throat, burning on its way up and she knew she only had a few seconds before it was too late. She tried to untangle herself from her blankets but it appeared a more difficult task than she initially anticipated. She leaned forward, ready to meet her imminent death - and welcoming it - when it was all stopped by a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around her small waist.

“Kag?”

She pressed her palm to his chest, trying to stabilize herself as the whole world refused to stop spinning. Why would he not stop moving? Oh god, oh god. It was getting closer - she was going to puke her guts out at any moment now. “Bathroom,” was all she managed to mumble.

Kouga understood immediately and once he helped her to her feet, he turned her in direction of the bathroom to at least make sure that she had a fighting chance. As soon as she was somewhat stable, she dashed as rapidly as her pounding head allowed her, and made a beeline for the bathroom. Once the door slammed closed, which was a sound she regretted, they heard the graceful sounds of her stomach emptying itself. And it did not sound as though it was about to stop any time soon.

Sango winced as she turned around to look at Kouga. “I really appreciate what you did for her, and I’m really happy you got her home safe and sound…”

“But?”

“But if you’re still here after she’s done puking, she’s gonna hate me.” Obviously, Kagome did not know this yet, but she was warming up to Kouga. Sango had noticed it from the first time she had encountered the two of them together. As her best friend, it was Sango’s duty to protect her against future embarrassment and puking her guts out made the list.

Kouga could hardly help the smile that reached his lips. Yes, getting embarrassed did sound like something Kagome did a lot. Although he did want to stay and make sure she was alright, he could understand where Sango was coming from - plus he was not leaving Kagome alone; she would be with people who knew her and cared about her.

“Drop me a line so I know she’s okay?”

“Sure.”

-H-

Come on.

Kagome felt filled with desperation as she leaned into the wooden bench, giving up on life; today was not her day. It had begun with the worst headache that life could have plagued her with and it had ended with her remembering that she had promised her mom she would come over for a day. Ever since her arrival at the university, she had been able to return home. Most of it had to do with the fact that she did not know how to face her family after her breakup. Or - the fact that she had not told her family about the break up. They had been used to having Inuyasha around and telling them… she felt like it was a disappointment in the waiting.

Now, her promise had caught up to her and now she was here, waiting for the long bus to arrive to take her home to the shrine. The few hours she had spent hydrating and puking had not really helped much. Sango had gotten some greasy food in her and it had helped settled her stomach but the pain in her head and her state of sluggishness remained no matter what. It was good, it would be a constant reminder that she needed to stay away from alcohol. How did everybody managed to do that almost every day and go through life as though they were fine? She knew there was such a thing as building up a tolerance but… could someone truly ever get used to this?

And Kouga. She had looked like a complete moron in front of him. Ugh. She was never going to live that one down. She knew he would never tell her the full story, but she was sure there was something stupid that she did…

And where was that bus? It was already over twenty minutes late… at this point she was a little early for the next one. This was not good. She wanted to get the bumpy road over as quickly as possible; she had yet to regain full color in her cheeks. Maybe she could go ask? She did not want to arrive too late… then there would be no point in going. She tried to watch down the road, hoping she would spot the bus somewhere down there. But, unfortunately, she was not that lucky. A long sigh was drawn from her lips before she rose to her feet and headed in direction of the little kiosk. Her black suitcase with wheels was dragging behind her as she made it in front of the young lady attending the kiosk. She needed at least one good news today.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know when the 112 will arrive?”

“Let me check.”

Kagome smiled gratefully as the girl typed away, trying to locate the needed information.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Oh was not a good word.

“I’m sorry miss. There was an accident on the road, and all buses will be cancelled for tonight.”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

The only positive side she could see to this was that she had not told her mother yet. She had planned to surprise her and make her happy - and at least it helped her save face. She sighed. “Thank you, anyway.”

She turned around, her little wheels squeaking as she did so. And now what? She had done all this and she was right back to the beginning. She should have stayed in bed all day like she had originally planned to do. Time to go back to the room.

-H-

What was this living hell?

Kagome shook her head, resisting the urge to bang her head on the wooden door of the apartment. For crying out loud. There it was, staring at her; a black crunchy. She knew what that meant and she had a dreading feeling in the pit of her stomach. Great. Now she was feeling sick once again. Originally, Kagome had been innocent enough to not understand that there was a coding system - and she was happier back then. Sango had not thought about explain it to her. Of course, innocent little Kagome had walked in and… well her eyes had almost melted away. And black was bad stuff. Usually Sango did not keep her locked out… but Sango thought she was away for the weekend…and she was instead alerting other people of the situation. She could not possibly walk in… she did not want to throw bleach in her eyes.

But… well… maybe she could just… knock?

No, no. It would not be fair. She had told her that she was leaving and… honestly Kagome was always there. That meant that as a couple, Miroku and Sango did not have all the intimate moments that they wanted. The least she could do was offer them this moment together…

But then, where could she go?

-H-

She was here. Again. How in the world did she end up going all the way back to the scene of the crime? Why was she not running as fast as possible in the opposite direction? Nope, instead, she was here and she was knocking on that dreaded door.

And then it opened.

“Hey, sis.”

Sis?

“Kouga, your woman is here!”

His woman?

“Wait!”

But it was too late. Before she could even react or process all of the information that had just been thrown at her, she could hear someone tumbling down the stairs at rapid speed. It took no time before she saw Kouga’s face popping into the doorway, a huge grin on his face. His hair was up in a bun, dripping water on his white t-shirt. What was it about that boy and water? He was either wet or shirtless. And why was she thinking about his shirtless wet chest? God.

“Hey you’re still alive,” he teased. She still did not look a hundred percent like her regular self but she looked a lot better than she had in the morning. In his case, all he had needed was a quick shower and he had been good to go. His eyes finally traveled to her feet and that was when he noticed that she had a suitcase with her. Wait… “Hey, is everything okay?”

She arched an eyebrow, suddenly confused by the sudden concern in his face. Kagome had to follow his line sight to realize what he was looking at; oh. “Oh, no. I am — my bus was canceled. I was going home.” She popped her lips. And now came the awkward part. “And I can’t go back to my place.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why, what happened?”

“Well, my roommate thinks that I’m out of town.”

“So?”

“So…”

Her cheeks developed a slight red color as she forced herself to look away. Her mind was suddenly filled with very bad memories of when she had caught them together. She would be scarred for the rest of her life. Although, she could admit to one thing; Miroku was a very imaginative man. She shuddered.

Once the scent of embarrassment filled out the vicinity, Kouga understood. “Oh, her and her boyfriend are banging.”

Well - that was the crude way to put it. “Yeah.”

Kouga could not help but chuckle. “Wanna come in?”

“If - if it’s okay. I don’t wanna bother.”

“Hey, you’re my woman. You’re always welcome here.”

“Yeah about that…”

“Hey - I won. Remember?”

“I don’t think anyone is here to see it.”

“Practice makes perfect?”

She tilted her head to the left, disbelief all over her features. She knew he mostly did things to get a reaction out of her and it nearly worked every time. Despite knowing he was baiting her, she would react each time because - he knew how to get her.

“Can I at least ask what the whole sis thing was about?”

“Oh. Wait, who called you that?”

“Ginta.”

He nodded. “It’s a pack thing.”

“A pack thing?”

“Yeah, we’re just - if you’re in the pack you’re a brother or a sister.”

That did nothing to clarify her confusion. “That’s the thing - I’m not pack.” Yes, she had opened up to Kouga a lot more than she had anticipated but… okay she was coming to him again but… but…well… just but.

He scoffed. “You? Not pack?”

“Kouga, I’m not actually your woman.” There was a part of her that wondered sometimes if he actually knew that it was a mock up deal. He had succeeded in upping his grades, and she was letting him gloat but it would not go on forever.

“You don’t have to be my woman to be pack you know. There’s more to it than that.”

He would not explain to her the entire complexity of the pack, but - even if he never got to know her better, she would be pack. The boys had accepted her from the beginning and that would not go away. He was not even sure she understood that it did not happen often. Yes, they had friends and acquaintances, but they did not simply welcome every person into their pack. Being part of the pack held a lot of meaning and usually it came with a lot of responsibilities. Obviously, they were not expecting all that of her. She had not requested a place in their pack, but they had welcomed her anyway. The boys were looking out for her on their own, and they enjoyed her presence.

How could they not?

There was something about her presence that would light up the whole room. She had warmth, laughter and kindness bubbling out of her. It was why he was so mad at Inutrasha for ruining parts of her. She did not deserve to be treated like that and eventually that mutt would pay.

“Now how ‘bout we get you in?”

“Are you sure?” Now she felt bad. Inuyasha had explained the whole concept of pack to her but it had remained vague. Mostly because he did not feel much attachment to his own. Him and his brother barely talked…

“If you ask one more time, I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder.”

And she knew he meant it.

“Alright then.”

He grinned. “Good.” He moved out of the way to let her in, and then turned his head to shout at the boys. “If anyone is not wearing pants, now is the time to put some on.”

Oh boy.

-H-

How in the world did she end up? She truly needed to take some time to look over her recent life choices. First, she had gotten smashed drunk, then she had not bothered to valid that the bus was running. And if all of that was not enough, she had decided to take shelter at Kouga’s fraternity house. And now? Now she was in his room. Kagome had desperately tried to call Sango, hoping to get an update or the sign that the coast was clear but life was not that kind to her. Instead, she was left in the void with no answer at all. It was not that late yet but her poor brain was buzzing inside of her skull and she needed to lay down. After quite a few comments from the boys, Kouga had offered up his bedroom. Obviously, she had refused it more than once. She was not about to touch that. She was not going there with him.

But then, time ticked away and even her brain cells were hurting.

So she caved in.

Of course, it was clear that she would be the only one in that bed.

But now… she felt like a jackass for insinuating that he was making assumptions. After all, he had gotten her home safely.

“Hey I - I didn’t have a chance to say it. But thank you. For yesterday.” She was fumbling like an idiot. Both her hands were clasped together, her fingers twitching as she stared at his wooden floor, a bit too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“Meh, you were right,” he said as he walked in with a set of fresh sheets. “I shoulda stopped ya. You were a wild animal.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You don’t remember climbing on top of me?”

“What!”

As he watched the red fill in her cheeks, he bent forward laughing. “I’m teasing.” Well, she had climbed him but it was only so that he could give her a piggyback ride. It was much more innocent than whatever she had in mind now. “Seriously, I invited you. You were under my watch, so the least I could do was get you home.”

“Kouga, I’m not your responsibility. I drank. My fault.”

“Remember the whole pack thing?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you’re part of the pack, you’re the alpha’s responsibility.”

“Okay.”

He thought he had explicitly told it, but perhaps he had not been obvious enough with her.

“Kagome… I’m the alpha.” Perhaps it was his fault; he was used to being around youkais, or people who knew of his status. It could be felt in his aura.

Alright, she did not know everything about youkai dynamics, and packs - but she did know about alphas. “You’re the what?”

“Alpha.”

“Oh.”

She almost wanted to be surprised but if she thought about it carefully… Yes, he had some priorities that differed from hers but…it did not mean they were wrong. He was a youkai, he used to have powerful legs… his focus had been on getting his team where it needed to be. But, he had been adjusting quite well to his new life. He did take responsibility, he was respectful… and of course, he came with a lot of cockiness. He did feel the profile of the Alpha.

“Did I score points or lose ‘em?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“If it helps me, as my woman, it gives you a great status.”

“Kouga…”

“I’m still gonna call ya my woman anyway.”

“I figured.”

“Anyways, here are some sheets.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Did you do something on these sheets that I should know about?”

“No.” He threw the sheets on the bed before sitting beside her. “I was being polite.”

“Really no adventures under the sheets?”

“Not since I meet you.”

And there he was again. He was being brutally honest and he was taking her voice away. Why did he make her matter so much, why was he so blunt with her? Her throat clammed up, her mouth was dry and she was at loss for words. He held up her gaze with his blue eyes, forcing her to look at him. There was something burning beneath his eyes, something pulling her in. As she felt her heart rate pick up, she took a deep breath, shielding her eyes away from his piercing look. It was then that her eyes landed on his legs. He had originally been wearing long shorts which covered mid-way through tibia. However, in this sitting position, they were raised up, showing his legs all the way to this knees.

For the very first time, she saw the damage.

They talked about his legs, they said he was hurt and he had called himself an idiot, but she had never seen it herself. But there it was. Strikes of purples. They were going up his legs like veins, sometimes turning a blue color. What in the world had done that to him?

“Oh my god.”

Fuck.

He jumped to his feet so fast that she saw nothing more than a blur. Instead of facing her, he had turned his back to her, trying to hide the shame that showed upon his features. He had not fucking thought about it. The purple lines were part of his legs now - it was how he knew that he was not doing any better. Whatever Naraku had done to him, it had scarred him. Whenever the purple lines appeared, there was pain. The doctors had not made it disappear and time had not taken care of them either. He was stuck. He was not getting worse but he was not getting any better either. The guys knew about it because they had seen it but he did not show this to the outside world. She was not the outside world… but she was Kagome. He did not need her to see his weaknesses.

“Kouga -“ She did not know what to say. The flesh was abused, damaged - tainted. She knew he was a youkai but even he had to be in pain. Did it hurt him when he walked?

“It’s fine.”

But she ignored his words as she stood up and put her hand on his arm. Still, he did not turn to look at her. “Kouga - I didn’t know.” She had talked about Inuyasha. She had even called him after her little encounter from hell. He had always shown up for her. He had even let her use him when they first met. He had taken everything and he had never said anything. She had told him to stop avoiding the running time, she had never… she had never even considered him and his feelings. She had not even known the depth of his pain. She felt horrible. Her heart was stuck in her throat as she felt her eyes fill up with tears. Somehow, she could feel his pain.

For a moment, Kagome did not care that he offered her resistance. She moved until she was standing in front of him and before he could even react, she wrapped her arms around him. His body felt stiff for a second but then, he loosened up as his own arms came around her waist. He did not want to be weak. He had to keep his head straight for his team, for his pack, for her. He saw the pain in her eyes when she saw Inutrasha with his new girlfriend. She was in pain. She could recover from this. He was not sure if he could.

“I’m sorry.”

He swallowed hard, trying to let her words fall on deaf ears. The embrace lasted for a moment before he felt her arms loose around him. Kouga took it as a sign that she was ready to pull away from him, so he did so first. However, he had not interpreted her actions quite correctly. As he pulled away, he found his face an inch from hers. An opportunity presented itself, and as he felt her warm breath tickle his lips, he gave into it. His lips were on hers before she even had a chance to intake a breath of air.

This time she was the one who stiffened.

His hands were squeezing her waist, much like he had the first time, his lips spreading fire to her entire body. She felt a nibble on her bottom lip, sending a tingle through every single one of her nerve endings. Oh god.

Then, there was a smack of the lips, and she was left with swollen, humid lips. Slowly, his grip on her loosened, freeing her from his large hands. His eyes only met hers for a brief moment and she was unable to find her voice. Wait.

“You can just put the old sheets in the basket. If you need anything I’ll be in the room next day.” He was a fucking moron. He was a fucking moron. He was a fucking moron.

He did not wait for her reply, instead, he exited the room, closing the door behind himself as he left. Shit. He just fucking blew it.

Kagome stood there, her arms still somewhat hovering in the air as her brain tried to process what had happened. The tips of her fingers touched her lips, feeling the warmth left behind. Her other hand palmed at her chest, fingers spreading like a palm. All she could feel was the pounding of her heart.

Oh no.

She was not going down that road.

She could not…

-H-

#kogkagweek #prompt 7 #kogkag #kougome #kogome #kagome higurashi #kouga #koga #iy #collegeau

45 notes · View notes