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arcanarubinaito · 4 months

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How It All Went Wrong

Inspired by the “Who Broke It” meme from Parks and Recreation.

This week I’ve decided to do a reader insert fic! I was originally planning to do a special Incorrect Quotes post, but I ran out of time to even start editing it together. I’ll probably do what I planned eventually, but to meet the deadline I switched over to a mini-fic.

(I’m still figuring out how to format my mini-fic/creative writing posts so please forgive the inconsistencies.)

Summary:

It’s the start of a new day and the familiars have all gathered in the Palace to play and run around the mostly empty halls while you and the M6 share drinks and relax on the Veranda. Unfortunately, while they were romping about and having fun, you discovered one of the familiars broke a very expensive vase Nadia was planning to auction off for charity…

Tags:

SFW (<18), 1k Words, GN Reader, Reader Insert, No Established Relationship, Asra Alnazar, Nadia Satrinava (Mentioned), Faust, Chandra, Malak, Inanna, Pepi, Mercedes & Melchior, Camio, Reader's Familiar, Whodunnit, Parks and Recreation, Who Broke It?

“So. Who broke it?”

The pack of animals in front of you all exchanged guilty glances. You’d caught them running through the halls in a panic, a mess of feathers and fur as they frantically tried to get your attention; and they had led you back to the scattered shards of what once was a very expensive, very delicate vase. Nadia had planned to auction it off, raising money to instate a proper orphanage; she wasn’t going to be happy about this. You sighed and crouched down, so you weren’t towering over the frenzied herd. “I’m not mad.” You said soothingly, reaching your hand out. Pepi was the first to rush forward, pressing into your hand with an apologetic purr. “I just want to know.”

They were all quiet for a long, long moment before your own familiar tentatively broke the silence. “I did it,” They said, but you knew it wasn’t them. They didn’t know who it was, either; the creature was attempting to take the fall for their friends. You huffed out a slight, gentle laugh.

“No, no you didn’t.” Your other hand found the top of your familiar’s head, and you gently scratched at it soothingly. Glancing up at the rest, you swept your gaze over the sea of guilty faces and focused on Malak. The raven looked a little more disheveled than usual, his beady black eyes darting around and his head cocking back and forth anxiously. “Malak?” You prompted. You regretted it almost instantly when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me!” Malak shot back, and his wings flared out. His talons clicked against the marble floor as he began to pace, eyeing the other familiars with a paranoid and scrutinizing glare. “Look at Chandra.” He swept one wing towards her, and the other animals turned to focus on the owl. Her eyes widened further, both surprised and indignant at the accusation.

“I beg your pardon?” Chandra brought herself up to her full height, glaring down at Malak with cold, dark eyes. “I certainly didn’t break it. Unlike yourself I watch where I’m flying.”

“That’s weird, how’d you even know it was broken?” Malak said, almost smugly. As though he thought he’d caught Chandra in the act somehow. You glance at the scattered pieces of sharp ceramic in front of you all, and then back up at the two bickering birds.

The owl extended her wing, feathers flaring as she gestured towards the broken vase. “You imbecile, it is right there in front of us and it is clearly broken.”

“Suspicious.”

“No, it is not–”

“If it matters.” Another voice interjected quickly, and you all turned to look at the two Borzoi standing just off to the side. Melchior had spoken up, Mercedes pressed up against his side and eyeing Pepi. “Probably not… but Pepi was closest to it when we ran past.” Mercedes nodded in agreement.

You saw Pepi’s tail slowly puff up, her pale blue eyes widening in disbelief. “Liar!” She yowled at them, and her ears flattened against her skull. The fur on her back spiked up. “I don’t—push things off of tables, that is a stereotype!”

Mercedes looked amused now, baring her teeth in a grin. “Oh really? Then what were you doing up on the table earlier then?”

“Cats like to be high up to watch things, everybody knows that Mercedes—”

You sighed and held up your hands. “Alright, let’s not fight…”

“Well…” Camio bobbed his head thoughtfully. “Inanna’s been awfully quiet–”

“Really?” Inanna snarled, whipping her head in the cockatiel’s direction. The bird only cackled as the rest of the familiars broke into frenzied arguments, pointing claws and feathers. You could hardly hear yourself think over the uproar, the squabbling animals making so much racket it was a wonder the others couldn’t hear them from the veranda. With a long, suffering sigh you rubbed your hands over your face.

“Okay, that’s enough!” You called out, loudly and clearly enough that your voice rang through the entire hall and shut the bickering animals up. The guilty expressions returned tenfold this time as everyone quieted down, paws and talons shuffling. Your thumb and finger ran up the bridge of your nose, pinching together while you took advantage of the quiet to think. There were a lot of fingers being pointed—so to speak—but none of them were admitting it; and you were inclined to believe they were all speaking the truth as well. You opened one eye to survey the small crowd again, doing a brief headcount. Your own familiar, Malak, Chandra, Camio, Melchior, Mercedes, Inanna, Pepi… no sign of Faust.

“Found help!” Ah, there she was. You turned your head to see Faust slung over Asra’s shoulders as he walked down the hall, the periwinkle serpent waving her tail cheerfully at everyone.

“Faust told me what happened.” Asra crouched beside you and skimmed their fingers over the shattered pottery. “Why don’t we get this fixed up before Nadia sees, hm?” They threw a wink at the other familiars, all of them relaxing just a little bit now. Asra held their hands over the shards, and you watched alongside the familiars as the pieces began to glow softly and draw back together. Glowing golden lines formed where the cracks were as the pieces fit together, melting away to reveal a perfectly uncracked and unbroken surface. They picked up the object carefully and set it back where it belonged. “There we go, good as new. Nobody has to know.” They flashed a toothy smile towards you.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who broke it then.” The familiars relaxed completely. The only reason you wanted to know was so that whoever broke the vase could properly apologize to Nadia; now there wasn’t any reason for that. You took a moment to give everyone some pets and ear scritches before standing up. “But let’s try to not break any more valuable objects, okay?” You chided them all gently and they murmured their agreements. As you turned back to Asra, you gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“If they’re all together like this, it’s hardly surprising that something broke.” Asra chuckled, guiding Faust off their shoulders so she could rejoin the other familiars. “I was waiting for it to happen. Murphy’s law,” They held their finger up as you both began to walk. “Anything that can go wrong, will. It’s just a matter of how, isn’t it?”

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killingbill · 1 year

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shotgun | swiss ghoul x mountain ghoul nsfw

Of course, Mountain is an Earth Ghoul. Of the soil, and respectful to what was here before him. He doesn’t often deal in flames. Doesn’t wish to scorch his fertile earth, nor his sacred ground.

These are the dangers of lying with a fire ghoul, like Swiss. The depths of hell burnt into the monster, who is devilishly handsome and equally as unpredictable. Like an open flame, dancing beneath sparks of embers that fall from the sky

Words: 2,965

tw; drug use, first time drug use and knotting/breeding. graphic sex under the cut. archive of our own link.

The fire ghoul digs ravenous claws into Mountain’s shoulder, which makes the earth ghoul grunt. It’s a low sound that rumbles through both of their bodies and into Swiss’s core. “Mm! Fuck , Mount!” Swiss whines. Proceeding to offer a smile that begins small and lopsided, but only grows alongside a bashful chuckle. “ Relax, will ya?”

Mountain has a harsh grip on Swiss’s hips using either hand. Large, knobby, and gnarled like wood. The branches thoughtlessly curl into the multi-ghoul like a lifeline. The devilish imp grinding down on his cock all the while, whilst Mountain shifts against the headboard. Bettering his position in the process, with a great sigh. Torso deflating, with the weightiness of it.

Swiss is preoccupied. He throws his head back, perspiring thighs trembling with a wanton moan. “Fuck.”

“Am relaxed. ” Mountain replies simply. His long hair has shifted over defined shoulders and the antler slopes and wide valleys of large, yet sensible horns.

Swiss pinches a joint between two fingers in one hand, the other coming up to scratch the back of his neck with a flush. “Great. Heh. Good t’know, big guy.” Swiss regains the leverage he lost on Mountain’s shoulder with scrambling claws, before taking a drag of his spliff. Patting the gentle giant encouragingly on the shoulder.

“You asked. ” Mountain concedes. Leaning back and closing his eyes for a few beats, with the slowness of an old oak. Swiss cringes. Looking down at the cherry whilst sucking in a deep inhale. Mouth in an obvious ‘O’ before looking up at Mountain with a smirk. Rolling his hips, while smoke similarly rolls from his nostrils like a dragon. Grinding himself down on Mountain’s enormous cock with practiced curls of his torso.

The beast groans, guttural and satisfied. Pressing fresh bruises into Swiss’ heated skin. Dripping with sweat, and becoming uncomfortably dangerous beneath his sensitive bark.

Meanwhile, the change in pressure makes Swiss choke forth a crackling moan, his head lolling about before settling back and to the side. A knowing glint in his eye, with a smirk to match. Tail curling devilishly behind him. “ What’s the matter, big guy? ” Swiss asks. He’s watching Mountain, whose head is propped against the wall behind him. Great antlers stood proudly, with marble green eyes lidded and dry lips parted.

Earth ghoul catches cerberus’ eye, and the smirk gets even larger. Mountain can only respond by narrowing his brows in question, though Swiss is suppressing mewls at the pressure on his lithe hip bones. His tail flicks once again in pleasure. Red eyes flashing mischievous as ever, while the larger hellbeast guides Swiss’ hips along his slick length. His impressive shaft slid sloppily in and out of the debased hole, spread open by the sheer size of the drummer.

“Y’want some?”

Mountain inhales with pause, but it’s equally due to the slowing of Swiss’ hips. The multi ghoul now grinds down with slight flourishes, while Mountain’s brow narrows. The toned stomach flexing and relaxing with deliberate rolls of his upper body.

The two share a quiet moment of eye contact.

“Mm..” Mountain hums again. Swiss’ lips enclosing the joint to take a small puff. Though, not enough for an adverse reaction . Giving Mountain time to think, while fingers ease somewhat.

Brows furrow in a low moan that closes his eyes, again. Emerald orbs rolling back into the giant’s skull, at the sheer skill of the musician.

Of course, Mountain is an earth ghoul. Of the soil, and respectful to what was here before him. He doesn’t often deal with flames. Doesn’t wish to scorch his fertile earth, nor his sacred ground.

These are the dangers of lying with a fire ghoul, like Swiss . The depths of hell burnt into the monster, who is devilishly handsome and equally as unpredictable. Like an open flame, dancing beneath sparks of embers that fall from the sky.

The constant temptation at the side of his pedestal, to the point of imagining when unable to consult his peripheral.

So when Mountain’s eyes open his expression is pensive, at best. His lips part, and small and subtle pants escape the now open channel. His head shaking flyaway hair from his face.

Swiss laughs, settling back comfortably. His hand moves to support himself on the mattress near Mountain’s thigh, while he looks down bashfully. The multi purpose ghoul giggling softly.

He’s still holding the smoldering spliff, with hips rolling expertly all the while. Swiss looks up, just as the earth ghoul’s thumbs tighten into hip bones. “ Ah - Don’t worry, big guy .” Eyelashes bat, before looking away and back upward. Smirking, with a bashful yet salacious gaze. “ Don’t you like shit that’s natural? It’s grown by the earth .” Swiss smiles at him. It’s still mischievous, but there’s also a hint of warmth that slowly mingles with the flirtation. “C’mon, baby. I wouldn’t steer you wrong .”

Mountain still looks unsure, but less so now. More pleasing, yet such is a subtle hint embedded in his timeless stare. He’s still guiding Swiss slowly down onto his cock, which remains slow but sure. Skillful, yet almost like an afterthought.

However, the over-sensitive impending orgasm is now officially growing in the giant’s pleasure. Swiss’ cock similarly flushed, whilst it bobs between them.

“ Here - lemme show you. You can take it from me.”

Mountain blinks with a hitch in his breath, Swiss humming softly in the aftermath. Mountain asks. “How?”

Swiss’ smirk quirks, and he soon leans upward. Easing forth with a swish of his spaded tail. His hand returns to Mountain’s shoulder, with hips rolling once more for good measure.

Both make a pleasant sound. Mountain’s low, and smooth. “— s’called a shotgun . ”

This makes the earth ghoul smirk, and slowly chuckle. Deep in his chest, like a kick drum.

“Shotgun.” He repeats.

“Yeah, baby. y’wanna try? ”

continue on ao3.

#swissalps #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss army ghoul #earth ghoul x multi ghoul #swiss ghoul x mountain ghoul #swiss x mountain #mountain x swiss #mountain ghoul x swiss ghoul #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #writing stuff #told u guys i would

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trrickytickle · 2 years

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Switch!Pennyfitzgerald hcs?

ah-kay! i like this picture. this is a cute picture

ler- Has used her shape-shifting fairy ability to her advantage in muntiple occasions, On one of their dates that went well, turned into a stork, embraced Gumball in one wing and vigorously feathered his tum with the other. His laugh was ADORABLE to her. She started being all sappy and romantic while Darwin was watching- unfortunately, and he ratted out all his worst spots despite his plea. She can only shape-shift when it corresponds to her emotions, so on strong ler/romantic moods only, which is just SO cute to imagine Favorite spots to target are the belly, feet and anywhere that makes a funny noise. Even sometimes, the tail. Very very sassy ler, esp. with her boyfriend. Has visited the Wattersons multiple times so I'd say she likes to tickle Darwin and Anais too :> Also likes to tease a ton, but very casually. She is such a savage when it comes to that. Says stuff like "You're all red!" and verbalizes the action "boop", and snidely plays the role of someone who's kinda evil, likes to do evil laughs and play a part like a tickle monster. sPEAKING of that she can turn into a LITERAL monster imagine her power Has joined others in wrecking people before- taught Tobias a lesson with other Elmore classmates once Doesn't realize when she's making her lee embarrassed a lot. Teases without realizing, but right when she does, she makes this smug-ass grin and starts teasing some MORE. lee- Loses her sass, and in turn her marbles. Incredibly lee for Gumball and sometimes just wants to climb back in that peanut shell when she's teased. Also transforms in lee moods, either into something small like a mouse to run away or puffs up in embarrassment. Gets fidgety and sweaty when asking for tickles, can't ever look at her ler. Once asked for Gumball, who in turn flustered the fuck out of her by doing snide impressions and even doing tickly kisses!! Got ganged up on by her peanut fam a while ago, now not so much. Kinda, sorta tickle starved. Loves being a lee WAY too much, and is obsessed with tickle-kisses. This baby is touch starved. Worst spots are her wings and even her horns, as well as her tummy (death-spot) have you HEARD her canon laugh? It's just so adorable and squealy. switch- Penny would be insanely fun to switch with! She sould definetly transform in a tickle fight and react like she's going to die, even using her dragon-form somehow, almost always wins the fights. Always gets revenge after being tickled, but the times people do get the jump on her, she's on the floor, begging.

#tickling #ticke headcanons #tawog tickling #tickle #t-word #tfb community #tk headcanons #tickle hcs #sfw tickling #sfw tickle community

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abirdsadventure · 1 month

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The Beginning

“Are you dead?” Maya asked, his tail flicking lazily from side to side. The cuffs that held his arms to the ceiling rattled as he swayed, and he stretched until the tips of his toes reached the ground. The cell was cold. Not unbearably so, but enough that Maya was shivering in the threadbare rags he’d been forced to wear. His breath came out in small, white puffs in front of him. His greatest complaint was the boredom, though. He’d been chained here for at least a week.

The man across from him groaned from where he lay on the floor. He had tan skin and dark brown hair cut short and ragged, likely done with a dull knife. His tall frame and thick muscles seemed to directly oppose Maya’s own short and lithe figure. If he had to guess, Maya would say that the man was in his late twenties. There was stubble growing in on his face, and the tip of a lower canine was poking out from the man’s lips. Not a full-blooded human, then.

Sighing, Maya tilted his head back against the rough stone wall behind him. His wrists had been rubbed raw by the sharp iron digging into them, and thin trails of blood were beginning to streak down his arms. His gray skin was looking ashier than normal, and the black hair that usually curled playfully over his shoulders hung limp with grime.

He’d given up on receiving a response when the man spoke in a gravelly, deep voice. “Where am I?” he asked, coughing.

“A cell, genius.” Maya’s ear twitched in annoyance. He’d been excited to finally have some sort of intelligent conversation, but apparently the gods were not so kind as to give him that.

“You were captured by a band of goblin thieves and taken to their poor excuse of a hideout."

Finally sitting with his back against the cell door, the man’s murky green eyes widened. “Gods, what have they done to you?” he exclaimed, his chained hands making an aborted move towards Maya.

Looking down at his bruised torso with a smattering of angry welts poking out from behind his sides, Maya shrugged as best he could, hanging from his arms. “‘S nothing.”

“Nothing? Those are marks from a lashing,” the man said, frowning incredulously. “Are they infected?” he asked, and Maya could have sworn the man was genuinely worried.

Ah, so that was the unexplainable source of heat he’d been feeling in this cool, cramped cell. As if they’d been waiting to be spoken about, the wounds on his back began to throb and pulses of pain ran deep towards Maya’s spine. He let his head droop towards his chest, suddenly tired of the conversation he’d so craved to start. “I said it’s fine. I’ve had worse. We’re not getting out of here anyway. They’ll kill us soon enough.”

What he’d meant was that they’d kill the man soon enough. The goblins had recognized Maya the moment they got a good look at his face. No, Maya could only wish for death rather than face the punishment that awaited him back home.

The man stared at him silently, and Maya could feel the gears turning in his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if steam started to come out of those strange, rounded ears. “I can get us out,” he said, and with the determination in his voice, Maya almost believed him.

“Sure you can.” Maya closed his eyes, wishing the man had never opened his stupid mouth. Maybe if he grabbed a knife off one of the goblins, he could stab himself before they returned him to his father. His breath hitched at the thought of being back behind dark, marble walls, and for a moment, the cool stone at his back didn’t feel much different.

“Hey, listen to me,” the man said, and Maya blinked into the near-darkness. “I will get us out of this. You won’t die here, I promise. I can…” he hesitated, and shook his head before taking a deep breath. “I’m a member of the rebellion. I can take you back to our shelter. Our leader will let you stay, at least as long as it takes for your wounds to heal, and–”

“Quiet,” Maya hissed, his eyes darting nervously past the rusted bars to the faint torchlight he could see at the end of the hallway. “They will torture you if they hear you speak of such things. Do you have any idea of the rewards the Emperor gives for information on the rebellion?”

The tips of his pointed ears perked. This was it. He’d run away to look for any chance of seeking safety in the rebellion, but now that there was really a hope that it might happen…

“Will they–are you sure your leader will accept me?” His voice stuttered, and he stared down at his goblin-gray skin and his long, thin tail with a small curse at how weak he sounded. “I know not everyone tolerates–”

“No,” the man interrupted, and Maya couldn’t quite read his expression. “No, you don’t have to worry. If anyone has a problem with you, then they can come to me.”

Maya nodded slowly, his mind working furiously. This could work. He pulled lightly on his chains, hissing at the flare of pain in his shoulders. His bare toes just barely scuffed the ground, and another draft of cold air made the torchlight dance on the floor of the cell.

“I have a plan–”

“Maya,” he said, meeting the other man’s eyes. “I figured you should know my name if we end up dying horrifically in this damned cell, which we definitely will.”

The man struggled to his feet. The muscles in his arms bunched as he tested the strength of the chains around his hands. Maya flinched in surprise as a link burst open and the others strained with small creaks and clinks.

“Banrok,” the man said, letting the ruined cuffs drop to the ground at his feet. He rubbed his wrists and smirked. “And I say we definitely will not.”

(1) (2)

#writeblr #my writing #original fiction #short story #original character #fantasy writing #high fantasy #worldbuilding #maya #banrok

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abysscronica · 2 years

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Don't you dare forget the sun [Itachi x F!reader x Kakashi]

A/n. The title comes from a song by Get Scared.

Prologue

Uchiha Itachi.

You had heard about him, of course. The deadly shinobi who killed his entire clan, his own family, and deserted his village.

Except you pictured him a little taller.

On one thing the stories didn’t exaggerate though. He was as handsome as the moon itself.

«Itachi.»

Pain’s words merged with the penumbra of the lair.

The Uchiha’s silhouette felt like marble, in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle, but you could feel those red eyes inside you.

“Don’t look at him directly.”

“Don’t look at his hand.”

“The only way to fight the Sharingan is to avoid it.”

«This is the kunoichi. Aqua of the Rain.»

You bowed your head.

«It is a honour to meet you, Itachi-san.»

A thunder echoed outside the cave, and the flash darted in his red eyes.

Pain turned to you.

«You know what to do.»

And, with that, his clone disappeared in a puff of black smoke, leaving you alone with the Uchiha.

He didn’t move, nor spoke.

The air in the cave was cool and humid, not the ideal condition you would have chosen to operate, but you’d make that work. You always did.

«Please, Itachi-san, have a seat.»

With a soft movement of your arm, you pointed at a rudimental bench that was sculpted in the stone.

The shinobi seemed to observe you for a moment, those liquid red eyes digging into your skin like ice, but you didn’t let any emotion surface on your features.

Eventually, he walked closer, not a sound in his steps, not a rustle of his tunic. He sat.

«I will examine your eyes now.» you announced «Please, refrain from using any Genjutsu unless I ask you to.»

You raised your hand but, before doing anything, you smiled.

«I’ll be gentle.»

And maybe, for a fraction of a second, you saw a glimpse of confusion flickering in his red gaze. It was gone in instants, and that blank stare was all you were met with before you softly covered it with your palm.

One year later.

Finally, the noise of clay wings echoed in the lazy afternoon, and the wind transported another whirlpool of sand to your feet.

You opened your eyes and stood as the big white bird flew inside the wide cave and eased down in front of you.

«Yo, Y/n-chan!»

Deidara waved at you before leaping down his creature. With the corner of your eye, you spotted Sasori crawling in as well.

«I know, we’re late.» the master of puppets croaked «The kid decided to do it by himself, but he underestimated the task.»

Deidara scoffed, pulling the body of a young shinobi out of his bird’s beak.

«I completed the mission, didn’t I? This boy was still the Kazekage after all, hn!»

«What matters is that you retrieved the Ichibi safely. And that you’re both safe.» you murmured, your lips relaxing into a small smile.

Sasori rolled his eyes but Deidara turned to you with a grin, although you didn’t miss how he swiftly hid his empty sleeve behind his back.

«Of course! He was strong, but there’s nothing he could do against my art, hn!»

You crouched down to take a look at the body.

Well, he was still alive, as instructed. Your light fingers moved a red lock away from his face.

So young.

«Put him on that rock, please, I’ll prepare him for the extraction right away.»

Deidara complied and you started to work on the host immediately.

Preparing a Jinchuuri for the extraction of the Tailed-Beast was a quick procedure, but it required a certain focus and an impeccable control of chakra, so you blocked out the environment around you and immersed yourself into the task.

The two Akatsuki members moved to guard the entrance of the cave.

«How come you don’t make too much of a fuss when she’s the one giving you orders?» Sasori grumbled, throwing an annoyed look to his companion. As much as you could read annoyance on his ceramic muzzle.

«First of all, she says “please”,» Deidara huffed «second of all, her healing feels sooo good, I don’t want to lose that… hn!»

The puppet master peered up at him.

«Her healing?»

«Right, you’re a puppet so you never tried. It’s freaking better than drugs! Once we finish with the Jinchuuriki, I’m gonna ask her to fix my arm.»

Sasori scoffed.

«You really are just a kid.»

«Wha–»

«I’m done.»

The two men turned to you as you approached from the depth of the cave.

«Time for the extraction then!» Deidara grinned, quickly advancing to take his place by the Jinchuriki.

He nodded his head when he passed you by, and you couldn’t help but greeting him with an indulgent smile as well. There was a certain freshness in his movements and way of talking, a passion and enthusiasm so typical of youth, as messed up as that was, given the situation.

«Don’t forget to come to me with your arm once you’re finished.» you said to his back.

His head flicked down and he just grunted an assent.

«How long is it going to take?» Sasori asked, lagging behind the blonde.

«I would estimate not less than three days.» you murmured in reply, eyes still trailing Deidara’s steps before moving to the puppet master «Sasori-san?»

«What?»

«Please, take care of Deidara-kun,» you murmured, bowing your head «he’s still very young.»

Sasori scoffed, crawling past you.

«I’m not a damn baby-sitter.»

Just as the two of them reached the Kazekage, the air in the cave grew colder.

The few torches illuminating the innards of the cave flickered, then died.

You lingered in the long strip of darkness that led outside, looking at the monster that emerged in the depths and the seven unnatural shadows standing on its bounded fingers.

«Y/n.»

The quiet call in your ear nearly startled you.

It was Pain’s black silhouette that passed you buy, his eyes never lingering on you.

«Take cover.»

«As you wish, Pain-sama.»

And for a moment, just a moment, your gaze darted on a specific shadow before you turned and walked out of the cave.

«I wouldn’t ask this of you if I could avoid it, Y/n.»

You lowered your eyes in a respectful bow.

«You don’t have to concern yourself with my safety, master Nagato. I made my choices and my promises. Since I’m too weak to offer protection, please, think of me as a mere mean to your goals.»

The brief silence that followed served as a heavy acceptance.

Isn’t this the life of a shinobi, after all?

«Very well. I need you to use your abilities on someone.

Uchiha Itachi.»

An Uchiha.

«To kill?»

«To heal.»

Your eyes rose to meet his empty Rinnegans.

«He’s dying, Y/n.

We need more time.»

You held his gaze for a few more seconds before bowing your head again.

«I’ll give him all the time that I can, master.»

«Good.»

You stood from your knees and prepared to leave.

«Y/n.»

«Yes, master?»

«…If somewhere along the way you decide to give him more than that, I will not oppose.»

The slightest shadow creased your brows as you glanced back at your master.

«I have only time to give.»

With a last nod, he dismissed you.

#naruto #itachi x reader #kakashi x reader #akatsuki #creative writing #writers on tumblr #fanfiction

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cloudteawrites · 3 years

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chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common, you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. “Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

Rewind (Part 1.5): Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: (quick update) Visiting Benkei goes somewhat to plan... until he makes you an offer you have to refuse.

wc: 1k

tw: fluff

previous part ⏮ masterlist ⏭ next part

song recommendation:

"Do you ever think about being... normal?"

Keizo peers out of his window, eyes trained on the road leading up to his house for any sign of the driver he sent to pick you up. Emptiness greets him, and he lets his curtains fall back into place as a sigh blows past his lips.

No, I never do.

In a previous life - before he was Benkei and back when he was Redcliff - things were simple. He didn't have to answer to anyone except Wakasa, he could lose himself in the music, and he could do as he pleased.

But now...

You did this to yourself, his mind chastises. You wanted to be famous. And now, you've dragged someone down into the depths with you.

Lights pan over the driveway and all of Keizo's thoughts run at full speed. Would you enjoy the fireplace? Is there anything you would need that he didn't have? Are you allergic to shellfish? Did you even want to be here in the first place?

Ding-dong.

His ideas come to a full stop when the doorbell rings, echoing around his empty home like a sad reminder of what he'd built with no one to share it with.

Well, he thinks. Maybe that someone could be you.

_____________________________________________________________

"So..."

Your breath escapes in puffs of air as you hover in the doorway, staring at Benkei while biting your lip.

"Can I come in? It's a little cold..." Benkei's eyes roll down to your bare legs, and a flicker of recognition crosses his features.

"Oh! Yeah, come on in. Sorry." You walk past the hulking figure and into his foyer, which is decorated with marble flooring, a large staircase, Greco-Roman statues, and the smell of something... delicious. Your stomach answers this call with a fierce growl, which earns you a knowing smile. "I bought crab, blowfish tail, calamari..."

As Benkei rambles about the food, you find out fairly quickly that the entire house - while it looked average on the outside - was not small by any means on the inside. The living room looked to be about as large as your apartment, and the kitchen just the same.

"I even bought some crab cakes, but you don't have to eat that if you don't like them. There's--" You place your hand on his arm, noting how warm he is before whispering,

"Thank you. For all of this." Keizo's lips peck at your cheek tenderly, as if he's trying his hardest to keep himself in check.

"It's the least I can do."

An hour later, you're laying on the couch, listening to one of Keizo's recollections of the day. His hands are massaging your feet as you lay horizontally, looking up at the ceiling while he talks in his sonorous, deep voice.

"But Waka... he's the one who's the best at house music. I used to think we were competing for the top spot when I started out making beats, but he's... he's something else."

"Have you two been friends long?"

"After Shinichiro made the label, we just stopped feuding. That was almost twelve years ago." Shinichiro Sano. You'd only heard of the famous record maker in passing and spoken of with a reverent tone. You never knew. him, and part of you is glad. But the feelings of sorrow gnaw at your nerves, even though you never knew the man.

"Do you miss him?" you wonder, and Keizo snorts.

"All the damn time, though he tended to be a pain in my ass." The hands on your feet still, and you know he's thinking deeply about Shinichiro. After unfurling from your position, you straddle Keizo's hips, holding his cheeks between your hands and looking him in his grey, depthless eyes.

"I'm sorry about Shinichiro. Really."

"Don't be, princess," he whispers, leaning forward. "Plus, I didn't bring you here to make you feel sorry for me."

"Oh, right," you giggle. "You brought me here to feed me."

"And to see you again," Keizo murmurs, twisting a strand of your hair around his finger before letting it spring loose. "Without prying eyes." The inhale before the kiss is important. It lets you extend the amount of time you're lost in his grasp, lets you feel every sensation without stopping, lets you lose yourself in him.

"We also need..." A breath. "To talk about..." Another kiss. "Switching your label."

"What?" You pull away fro Benkei, eyes wide as his words sink in. "You-- No, the Haitanis... South..."

"They can be reasoned with," Keizo replies, smiling and smoothing a hand across your cheek.

"They have my music," you reply quickly, panicked. "I can't just leave, I--"

"Nothing that you've done can't be recreated."

"My contract." You finally spit out, hands shaking. "I have to release four albums total. I'm only on album two."

"Oh," Benkei sighs. "You'd have to litigate out of that."

"So, I can't just..." The giant in front of you groans, kissing down your neck lightly.

"I'll think of something. I've got to get you out of there."

_____________________________________________________________

The morning sun shines through the uncurtained window like a gentle wakeup call. Feather-light breaths course across your neck as you rouse from a dreamless sleep, turning your head to catch a glimpse of the rising sun through an unobscured view.

Benkei sleeps on, his face resting on your arm, but his arms don't let you go. You stroke his white hair slowly, trying your best to avoid waking him but also fascinated with the way he's wrapped around you like you're a comfort object. And it all feels so mundane, so boring... but it's a welcome reprieve from the constant drone of loneliness and working for people who don't care about you - just what you put out for them to profit off of.

But this... it could be like this all the time, if you wanted.

So, is this what it's like? you wonder. To be normal?

You look down at Benkei's sleeping figure once more, thinking of the possibilities.

Could this be my chance to be normal?

#keizo arashi #keizo arashi x reader #arashi keizo x reader #arashi keizou #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #Spotify

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bandaigaeru · 3 years

Text

comfort place - yang jeongin

→genre: friends to lovers →synopsis: comfort can manifest itself in many forms. some find it in the fantastical world of the arts. others find it in sports. but, for you, comfort is a person. →word count: 6.5k →pairing: jeongin x gender neutral reader →warnings: drunk jeongin, mentions of puking

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That,” your eyes go wide as you nod at his stature. He’s hunched over your trash can. Blue gloves shield his hands as he digs.

“Oh. I think I lost my earring or something.”

“And your first instinct was to search my trash can?” you quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps you should mention that this isn’t just any trash can, it’s your kitchen one. Full of discarded, burnt ramen and your roommate’s weird protein shakes that will clog your drain otherwise.

He nods, as though this is the most normal first step to a lost earring. Yang Jeongin is many things, but being questionable is one of his strongest traits.

You slip behind him to get to the fridge. Water bottles line the right half, more commonly known as your roommate’s side. You reach for one.

“What are you doing on March twenty-fifth?” he asks, arms deep in your trashcan. He’s really going to endure this conversation without a single shred of his pride disappearing.

You try not to look at him as you glance at the calendar. Two weeks away, the small square for that Saturday reads “NATIONALS” in large red letters.

You hum to yourself. “Dog sitting.”

“What?” he looks at you, eyes squinted in confusion, “Why?”

“Danceracha’s going out of town for the dance contest. I told you this.”

He exhales a deep, surrendering sigh as he straightens his back and plucks the gloves off. He shakes his hands in the cool air before starting for your sink. The calm stream of water trickles out. “Man. That sucks.”

“Why?” you question. Your fingertips draw marks of condensation along the plastic.

“I was gonna invite you to a party,” he mutters. A pout comes to his lips. For a moment, your heart drops. He looks the same as when you met him. All those years, long with memories but short in quantity, whizz past you.

“Party?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he nudges the water stream off.

Parties and Jeongin don’t mix well. History has proven this.

“Whose party is it?” you start for the living room, knowing he’ll follow.

“You don’t know him,” he says, his voice never once fading because, indeed, he’s on your tail.

“Okay, but what’s his name?”

“Chan. Actually,” he hesitates, “you might know him.”

As you sink into the couch, chipped leather scratching your legs, you glance at him. His eyebrows are scrunched into his thinking stance. Then, his features light up once he finds the answer. “Do you remember sophomore year’s biology class?”

You nod.

“Remember when that senior came in to make fun of Mr. Lee?”

Again, you nod.

“His best friend is Chan. You probably saw them in our freshman yearbook for spirit week. They dressed up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for Twins Day.”

Your mouth forms into an acknowledging part. “Got it.” In fact, the recurring image instantly pops into your head. You can thank all the hours spent staring at it with stifled laughter for that.

“So what’s the party for?”

He shrugs, “Some college achievement shit.”

“And you got invited?” you laugh. Jeongin barely made it out of high school. He took one harrowed glance at the local campus and nearly cried. You don’t blame him, though. That place is stressful. Even as a freshman you can say this.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool, you know? I don’t need to be in academics for them to know that.”

“Sure,” you nod.

“I’m serious!” His lips quirk up in a defensive manner that sends a spark through your chest.

Among other things, Jeongin is confusing. Questionable and confusing. These are the words you say when someone asks you what he’s like. Because seriously, why does he always do things so infuriating yet endearing?

He runs a hand through his hair as he unlocks his phone. His thumb works quickly to swipe through a message log before he tilts the phone so you can see. “See?”

The conversation in question is short, a maximum of four texts. The details blur as he snatches his phone back as quickly as he showed it. Again, infuriating.

“Are you planning on going alone, then?”

This question makes him freeze. He stares at the wall wielding a mounted TV, whose black screen reflects the image of him by your side, shoulder to shoulder. A small smile tilts his lips. “I guess. People want me there. So I’ll find my niche.”

See? Endearing.

You have no doubts that he can find a place to fit in. He did it in high school and he’ll proceed to do it in the future. That’s just how he is. Plus, maybe he can allow someone else to feel safe too. Like he did for you.

ii.

High school is a demon with a comforting smile. When you’re forced to transition, they tell you it’s all fun. Sunshine and rainbows, if you will. What they don’t tell you is that luck will always make it so you don’t get any of your friends in your classes. And this, with your contradicting lunch shifts, will slowly force you out of the friend group you had stuck with since elementary school.

Perpetual tears are stocked behind your eyes. Waiting for the perfect moment to fall because let’s be honest, any minor inconvenience could push you over the edge. Stress does that to you.

In third period of your second week, your math teacher announces that she’s decided on her seating chart. She makes you line up against the walls as she grabs her reference sheet, lined with the images of desks, names scribbled atop them. “Jeongin,” she says, pointing to a desk in the front row.

A boy a few feet away from you steps out from the crowd to claim his desk. He’s wearing an oversized maroon hoodie whose back is marked “Yang” in white letters.

Your teacher stops at the seat next to him. She glances at you and your heart drops. “Y/N,” she points to a desk.

Sitting up front is worse than the incessant plagues of high school drama. All eyes permanently burn into the back of your head, even when not a single soul acknowledges you.

As you try to settle into your seat, back a little stiff from trying to shrink yourself into a tiny marble, the boy beside you leans over. “Hey, you okay?”

For the first time, your eyes lock. His remind you of the innocence of childhood, that blank yet full gaze. You nearly melt, but instead, your back loosens.

“Yeah. I just don’t like sitting in the front,” you chuckle awkwardly.

He smiles. Not one of the pity ones, but a real toothy smile. “Aww. Me neither, I always feel like everyone’s watching me.”

Finally, a person who gets it.

“But I just have to trick myself into not caring,” he says, glancing at the whiteboard. Shadows of poorly erased marker line the corners.

Abruptly, after his serene gaze, he jumps back to you. “Do you like coffee by any chance?”

Despite the initial shock of the question, you say, “Yeah, I do.”

As it turns out, his family owns this huge coffee shop right next to the bookstore you used to frequent. His mom was rather happy to see a new face. On that day, she accepted you as family.

And math didn’t turn out to be so hard that year.

iii.

The apartment grows quiet after Jeongin inevitably has to leave. Your roommate’s dog comes trotting out from his room. His nose is upturned, scouting for a soul to give him attention.

“Come here, Kkami,” you pat the empty spot on the couch beside you. He runs the rest of the way. Instead of resting on the couch cushion, he prefers your lap. This pickiness he obtained from his owner.

Hyunjin’s anything but a bad roommate. He does the dishes, sweeps when he finds a large puff of Kkami’s fur traveling your hardwood like a tumbleweed, even brings home coffee when you have a huge study night ahead of you. However, when it comes to you and Jeongin, your mutual hangouts on weekends, he has a very specific need. And that’s to be around you two as little as possible.

He claims it’s because he can’t stand third-wheeling. Jeongin refuses to understand this concept. “If we’re not dating, it’s not third-wheeling?” he’d said, numerous times.

Hyunjin won’t budge on the subject.

The tune set as Jeongin’s ringtone, chosen by him, plagues the air. You reach for your phone, placing a protective hand on Kkami’s side to prevent him from falling.

“Hello?”

“Problem: What would you do if your brother told you he got a girlfriend?”

You squint at your reflection in the TV between scene transitions. It looks odd without him beside you. “Which brother?”

“Guess which one would make me more dumbfounded. Hint, it’s not the older one.”

“Your younger brother got someone before you?” you snicker. Jeongin holds his pride in his individuality. Losing to a younger brother with something like this is hilarious.

“This isn’t funny! Should I be a serious big brother and talk to him or should I just seethe in silence?”

“Neither. Leave him alone.”

He does something akin to a whine. “But-”

You stick up a finger, though he can’t see you as you interrupt, “C’mon, Jeongin. He’s a teenager. Let him be.”

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the outsider and you’re the true, reasonable sibling.

He sighs. You imagine him pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. All lost in the possibilities that lay before him, since you and him both know he won’t listen to you.

“Can I hang up now?” you ask, glancing at the front door.

“Are you gonna abandon me for your significant other too?”

You scoff as the front door opens. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hyunjin steps into the apartment. His hair is damp with sweat and lays jagged in front of his eyes. You raise a hand to wave.

“It’s a real question, though. You know whoever it is will be jealous of me.” Now, you know, he’s just prodding for a reaction. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes, Jeongin. I would one hundred percent drop you for some person who offers emotional stimulation,” you monotonously chide.

Hyunjin gives you a curious look as he passes. You would think he’d be used to this by now.

“Okay but,” Jeongin’s voice grows low as he settles onto his bed, “would you really? Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” you press your back deeper into the couch. It’s not like you’ve had many romantic opportunities since meeting him. Jeongin, though also needy, is more interesting than anyone else you’ve met. He’s a shiny emerald among a sea of charcoal.

“Good,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. The image of his little dimple indenting makes you mirror the sentiment.

“Now can I hang up?”

“Fine,” he sighs.

Through a laugh, you manage, “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” And then the line goes dead.

iv.

“Are you sure you don’t like him?” must be a trendy replacement for ‘good morning.’

“Who?” you ask, rubbing your eye as you start for the cereal cabinet.

“Jeongin. Who else?” Hyunjin says. He sits at the kitchen table. A plate of freshly heated blueberry waffles sits before him.

Without turning to him, you say, “I’m sure.”

It’s a reflex, really.

He exhales in the most exaggerated way possible to grab your attention. His eyes are cold with the hunger for an answer. A real one.

“I don’t like him,” you say slowly, allowing each word time to sink into the air.

The thought has surely crossed your mind. It’d be unrealistic to say you’ve never pondered the great possibility of being in love with your best friend. But ultimately, you don’t think you are. Sure, you’d take a bullet for Jeongin. Just not in the ‘wow I’m madly in love with you’ kind of way. You tell yourself it’s in the ‘you’re going to do so much good for the world’ kind of way.

“Fine,” Hyunjin admits, picking up one of his waffles and taking a caveman bite.

Most of breakfast is quiet as you sit opposite him, staring into your bowl. Your milky reflection takes you off guard a few times.

“You know,” Hyunjin says after a while, his voice raw and a little croaky. He has to bring a hand to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. “You should get him to stay with you while I’m away.”

As you look back up at him, he adds defensively, “I’m not trying to play Cupid.”

You shrug, “He probably has other plans.”

Yet when you text him a few hours later, he jumps on it. “It’ll be like a sleepover! Don’t you miss when we did those?”

You did, but you don’t admit it.

The week of nationals arrives too quickly for your mind to process. One minute, you’re studying for an upcoming exam and the next there’s a knock on your bedroom door. It doesn’t wait for a sound before opening.

“Hey, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which covers his messy hair. Perfect for his night of sleeping on the bus. A duffel bag packed and puffy hangs off his shoulder.

“Good luck,” you smile up at him.

“Thanks. Don’t try sneaking into the venue with your rat like you did last year,” he returns the smile.

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” you rush to defend yourself.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You still played into it.”

“And we got to support you as your lovely friends.”

“You were the only people cheering during the contemporary dance,” he mumbles, stepping back into the hall.

“To be fair, we couldn’t realize because we were so involved!” you shout to match the increasing distance.

“Right!” he calls, a laugh shaking his words.

Studying is now a failed mission. Every time you glance at the words printed on the textbook’s glossed pages, they just blur together until your mind drifts to Jeongin. When is he coming over? He said he’d be here by seven. It’s roughly a quarter past. He has a key, so it’s not like you have to be free when he gets here.

When you succumb and close the textbook, you hear shuffling in the living room. Shortly followed by Kkami’s familiar barking, which he only pursues when someone’s here.

The feeling of a generously excited puppy fills you as you follow the source.

“Hi,” you smile.

Jeongin has treated himself to a coffee. He must have just worked a shift.

“Hi,” he hands you the paper cup.

“Oh, is this for me?” you take it. It’s hot against your palms.

“Yeah. It’s hot chocolate. Thought you might want it.”

He drops his backpack, likely stuffed with potential party outfits, by the couch. He stands and scans your face as you take the first sip of the drink. The sweetness takes over and makes you shiver, but the warmth minimizes the shiver to nothing. Surely enough, this is his mother’s hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” you say, looking into his eyes. The living room light has speckled his eyes with stars.

“Of course.”

A moment passes of just looking at each other. Not a single word. You’re not even sure if you’re remembering to breathe.

It breaks when he glances at the TV. “Movie time?”

Settling on the couch doesn’t take long. He sits close enough to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s done this for as long as you remember, but why does it feel so close all of a sudden?

He chooses the movie. A tradition you’ve established ever since you accidentally chose a movie so repulsively awful you had to take a break from watching movies at all. The teasing was barely bearable.

Even now, when someone says something similar to that movie, you shiver.

“Are we feeling sci-fi?” he asks.

You almost shrug until you remember where his head is. “I don’t care,” you say instead.

He chooses a romance movie, his safe pick.

And he falls asleep not even ten minutes in.

Hyunjin’s question returns to you in neon lights. Certainly, this tight feeling in your chest couldn’t be akin to liking someone. When you like someone, there’s always a telltale sign. There’s a bright moment of realization. That’s never come for you. Even now, all you can do is question. Question. Question. Question.

vi.

Jeongin’s party outfit is the most conspicuous thing ever. A light blue tee from middle school that has all his classmate’s signatures on the back. Black jeans with holes at the knees. You can’t tell if he’s going to a child’s party or not.

He catches your tilted gaze, matched with the furrowed eyebrows, and huffs. “Would you rather I get puke on a good shirt?”

You blink. “I’d rather you not puke on yourself.”

A noise close to laughter bursts past his lips. “Ha. Funny. I won’t reach that point. I’m thinking people puking on me.”

You nod. Jeongin’s a lightweight, from what you know. But hey, if it helps him sleep at night.

He departs after a long phone call with Chan. He offers a little wave as he opens the door. “I’ll give you live updates.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will.”

And indeed, he follows through. Selfies bombard your phone every three minutes. One is taken with Chan, but it’s so shaky and dark that they look like blobs with highlighted cheeks.

These only make you more confused. Maybe Hyunjin was right. But you don’t want him to be. Nothing makes you feel more foolish than catching feelings for a friend who is just that. Friend. That painful, heartbreaking word.

You open Hyunjin’s message log, prepared to reach out and ask if he can help you break down what you’re feeling, but his contact transitions to consuming your entire screen—perfect timing, he’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Guess what?” His voice is drowned out by external shouts.

“What?”

“We took second place!”

“Congrats,” you smile to yourself, leaning against the couch arm.

“It’s all thanks to Felix’s freestyle. That surprise category threw us off, but he really came through,” he rambles. He tells you about all his points and each error, which ultimately seem mundane but apparently make a difference in his detail loving mind.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing, you know.”

“I’m doing good,” you nod as though to convince yourself.

“How’s Jeongin?”

“At a party,” you say as your phone buzzes again. Another selfie. This time, he’s in a lonesome bathroom and posing in the mirror. A peace sign that surrounds his eye. That stupid dimple makes your heart jump.

Hyunjin giggles at something on his end and says something not aimed at you. He quickly returns to his serious tone with, “How are you really feeling? Don’t bullshit me.”

You stifle a laugh. Resting your head on the back of the couch, you glare at the ceiling, “Confused.”

“About Jeongin?”

He slips into a quieter place. You sigh. Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden? “Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, “I pushed you into thinking about it for a reason.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because friends don’t like friends like that.”

“But you like him like that, so doesn’t that ruin your statement?”

You sit in the silence for a minute. “I guess so.”

His breath is amplified and you can hear each inhale and exhale. “You’ll probably just brush this off, but I think you have a shot.”

You nod. “Sure. A shot at going to the moon maybe. A shot at Jeongin liking me? No way.”

“Look, pessimism isn’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, I will. But not because I want to, because it’s terrible seeing you sulk,” he mutters.

A round of applause for your roommate.

“Just give me some time. I still don’t know if I like him,” you glance at the dog, who’s cuddled up on a pile of blankets. Why can’t your life be that simple?

“Not trying to force you or anything, but I think you know the answer to that.”

He’s probably right. It’s not like you can retaliate anyway. There’s a distant knock before he says, “Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

The following silence is truly suffocating.

vii.

That party changes everything.

Jeongin stumbles home, each step a potential path to faceplanting. It’s this exact stumble that forces him to trip over a box.

The noise draws you from sleep. Through squinted eyes, you stare at him as he tries to regain his balance. His arms are splayed out, searching for a stable support beam.

“Jeongin?” you whisper, though you know it’s him. Who else would be drunkenly returning home at, you glance at your phone, three in the morning?

“Y/N,” he gasps. Your voice prompts him to follow it.

As you stand, he finds his way through the narrow path between couch and coffee table. He throws his arms around you.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, words meshing together.

“I missed you too?” It’s only been six hours.

He holds you at arms length, palms resting on your shoulders. “I love you,” he slurs, eyes drunkenly taking a long blink.

“I love you too?”

“No, like, I really love you. ‘The moon is beautiful’ type of stuff,” he nods.

You’re not sure what he means by this. But it doesn’t matter if you try to question him, because he continues.

“I think about the future a lot,” he says, hands falling to his sides before he falls onto the couch. “Nothing’s ever consistent. But you’re always there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

He wasn’t finished. “I think our wedding would be nice.”

Now, he goes silent as you stand there in shock. He thinks about that? How often?

The moment your lips part to ask these things, a light snore escapes his lips. You grab a blanket from your room, the Totoro one he loves, and you gently cover him. You lean over his face. His cheeks are a little swollen, as are his lips. You push his hair away from his eyes before going to your room. You’re careful not to make a noise as you shut the door.

He’s gone by the time you wake up. For the first twenty-four hours, you shrug it off as a painful hangover he’s just sleeping through.

Most hangovers don’t last a week, though.

One time, sitting beneath a sky littered with stars, Jeongin released a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?”

Jeongin’s not insecure about many things, as his philosophy is that if one person finds something unattractive, there’s a hoard who will think otherwise. But this topic is an exception.

“Unless you do something unthinkably terrible, no,” you mumble. And you truly meant it.

So, Jeongin: You haven’t done anything unthinkable.Why have you disappeared?

Life without Jeongin has been incredibly boring. It’s prompted an imminent heartache. Attending class is a lame option considering your bed is so much more comfortable. You never knew missing someone could form a black hole in your body, consuming each grain of energy.

Hyunjin’s the only reason you’re eating. Since he knows you’re not up for any meal, he brings you snacks and another bottle of water—to add to the mountain of empty bottles on your desk.

“Do I need to go break his ankles?” Hyunjin asks one day, nearly a month after his tournament.

You shrug. You know he’s joking, but laughter doesn’t seem to bubble up. It’s lost in the dark cave that is this confusing state.

“I texted him today. No response yet,” Hyunjin adds.

You nod. You got the same treatment, but you stopped trying a while ago.

“Have you gone to the coffee shop? To see his mom or something?”

You shake your head. “No point in it. He doesn’t tell her much. Plus I don’t want to pin her against him or anything.”

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, or offer, or do to help you. Not that you’re a lost cause, but he’s starting to lose the ounce of hope he had. To him, you’re too good for this. Telling and convincing you of that is a difficult task.

When he leaves you alone, you cry again. At this point, your eyes hurt when you aren’t crying. But hey, at least you’re sleeping nice. The desperate need to escape can do that to you.

viii.

You tell Hyunjin your conclusion at dinner—something he’s finally tricked you into eating. “I think I love him.”

He nods. “Yeah. Didn’t we already establish that?”

You push the noodles around. “I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why?”

Averted gaze set to the ramen, though his remains scalding. “I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table to regain your focus. He knows the noodles aren’t that interesting. “That’s okay. Look, we can go beat his ass if you want. Or we can hunt him down and hold him hostage-”

He stops when he sees the small hint of a smile turning your lips up. One of his own appears, and in his mind, he’s breaking into a congratulatory dance. The crack in the sadness is exposed, and it’s slowly breaking further. All that’s next is revealing the ravine of happiness.

After dinner, you sit on the couch and decide to watch a movie. Unlike Jeongin, he gives you movie pick. It reminds you of the bitter taste that’s overcome your mouth since he up and left.

Halfway through the movie, some shitty one Jeongin and you watched a few months ago, Kkami barks at the couch. He looks between you and the crack behind it as if to say, “Hello? Get my bone!”

You glance at Hyunjin, who also waits for you to get up and retrieve the dog’s lost bone. Normally you take turns with this task, but he seems to have forgotten it’s been his turn for the last five times.

With a muted sigh, you pull yourself off the couch. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to pause the movie. Jeongin wouldn’t do that.

You lower yourself to look into the dark tunnel. With a blind hand you swipe against the floor. A small object connects with the palm of your hand. You drag it out. A small metal earring glares back at you. You drop it in the pocket of your hoodie—which was a gift from Jeongin as you drifted into adulthood. You return to the bone search with a sting in your eyes.

ix.

Happiness is a fragile object.

At the same hour that Jeongin had said the unthinkable, your phone buzzes loudly against your side. Ultimately, this brings you back to the post-sleep daze as you trudge to answer it. Looking at the contact is the last of your concerns.

“Hello?” Your voice is raw. A long gulp of water would be kindly appreciated.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” This is a voice you’ve never heard before. You pull back to look at the contact and, unsurprisingly, there isn’t one. All that stares back is a string of numbers, unique to this person.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, sorry for the late call. I’m Chan-” you nearly hang up out of defensive instinct, but you let him finish. “I kind of need a favor right now.”

“What kind of favor?”

In the background, there’s a loud retching noise. “Um, so Jeongin, right?” Chan nervously laughs.

“We’re not really-” you start.

He interrupts, “I know. But he’s been talking about you nonstop. He’s really a wimp, you know. Actually, I guess I’m not really asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor.”

You know where he’s going with this. “I’m sorry, Chan, but I don’t think that’s a-”

“Hush,” he says before his voice distances.

“Y/N? It’s Y/N?” the familiar, slurred voice asks.

He wasn’t going to give you an option. Deep down, you’re kind of grateful for that.

When Chan returns to the phone, he says, “I can send you the address. We’re on the first floor, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I would offer to come pick you up, but I’m babysitting.” At these final words, he laughs.

You consider waking up Hyunjin to take you—he’s the one with the car—but you think against it when you realize it’s only a five minute walk.

Despite the daytime weather that is clear sky and sun that hugs your skin, the nighttime

version is a little less welcoming. Indeed the air is breezeless, but it’s a bitter cold. Grabbing a hoodie would have been smart, but alas.

Chan opens the door with a smile. “Hi, come on in.”

He points to a closed door, “Jeongin’s in there. He should be decent. Just a little pukey.”

You follow his directions, while he starts for the couch. At least he’s allowing privacy, you think. You knock lightly on the door. After a long trial of waiting with no response, you slowly push the door open.

His cheek is resting on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Through dazed and squinted eyes, he looks at you. “Hi?”

“Hey,” you say, stepping into his space for the first time in over a month. Despite the stain of puke on his shirt, you realize that he hasn’t changed much. What physical changes can someone go through in a month? Well. Everything.

You appreciate your mind for allowing his appearance to never leave. Otherwise, you might have looked at him just now and been disgusted. Because it’s Jeongin, and because of this weird tugging feeling in your chest, you don’t. In its place, you look at him as though he holds the world’s most valuable object.

He tries to sit up, nearly falls on his face, but manages. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t think so,” you squat next to him. The familiar weight of his head meets with your shoulder.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he laughs. His mind is going a mile a minute, but his lips refuse to go at an accompanying speed. “I love you.”

You stare at the top of his head. “I love you too.”

“Really?” he lifts his head. He seems to search your eyes for the similar sparkle his hold.

“Yeah,” you nod. You decide to save your cheesy comments until the morning. No point in wasting them if he won’t remember this when he wakes up.

“Did you know that I,” he says, trying to lift himself to his feet. He leans a little too far on a foot, prompting you to rush and steady him. “thought you and Hyunjin were dating for the longest time.” He laughs again.

You squint at him, “Is that why you disappeared?”

A drunk smile finds his lips and his cheeks glow beneath the bathroom light. “Guilty.”

“You’re stupid for thinking it’d ever be anyone but you,” you whisper, glancing anywhere but him. You could say this to the mirror too. Stupid for thinking it could be anyone but him.

He’s ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to allow his smile to drop a little as he leans closer to your face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers.

You watch as he leans a little bit closer. Bit by bit. You even close your eyes at one point. At the last minute, when his breath begins to mingle with yours, he pulls away. “No. Let me brush my teeth first.”

You watch in a stunned silence as he stumbles to the living room. “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?” he asks Chan.

Chan responds quietly with, “Yeah, under the sink.”

You beat Jeongin to it, offering him the packaged toothbrush.

“Thanks, love,” he says.

Questionable Jeongin who calls you pet names. You like it, though you’ll try your hardest not to admit it. That’d only feed into his questionable choices.

Minty Jeongin has sobered up a little bit. Instead of kissing you immediately after rinsing his mouth, he stares.

“What?” you prompt.

“Nothing.”

And then he leans in and kisses you. In all honesty, it’s exactly how you imagined kissing him. There’s no stereotypical sparks. It’s just Jeongin, whose lips happen to be on yours. That’s enough. Afterward, though, you acknowledge that Cloud 9 is beneath your feet.

Chan drives you and Jeongin back to your apartment after a difficult talk and one final puke. (The puker looks at you when he feels it coming and asks, “Can you hold my hair back?”)

As you’re helping Jeongin out of the car, Chan leans back in the driver seat and glares a strong eye at Jeonign, “Run away again and I will beat your ass.”

Jeongin chuckles. “Right. Catch me first.” As he says this, he throws his arm over your shoulder for stability. Though, he’s sober enough to walk on his own now. The occasional stumble, sure, but he’s not in dire need of someone to guide him.

You take it as his way of saying he plans on staying.

However, when you make it into the apartment, you don’t bear right to the couch.

Keeping him close will prevent him sneaking out and running away again. That’s a thing of the past, and you’ll make sure of it.

He doesn’t even complain.

“Don’t puke on me, please,” you whisper as you climb into bed. He follows shortly after. Arms naturally find your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

He hums. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dreamless sleep takes over you, but the entire time you’re aware of his arms and his proximity. In a way, it’s better than dreaming.

It’s even better when you wake up before him. His lips are a pretty shade of pink and for a moment you forget about his eventful night. You press a light kiss to his cheek.

His eyes don’t open, nor does he stir. He’s in that beautiful, drunken sleep. You try not to laugh at the thought of his hangover to come. God, he’s going to be so whiny.

You try to slip out of his arms, but the death grip only becomes tighter. He whines a little, mutters something like, “Don’t go.”

After a few more minutes of just staring at the sleeping boy, boredom takes over. Yeah, staring is nice and all, whatever, but it reaches a certain intolerable point. Ten minutes is that point.

You nudge him, “Jeongin, let go. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“No,” he mutters, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

“Jeongin.”

“What?”

“Let go.”

His eyes finally open. They hold a small sense of surprise, which prompts you to tease, “What? Do you need a breakdown of what happened? Were you seriously that out of it?”

“No. Well, a little,” he stumbles over the words.

“What do you remember?”

“Puking,” he winces as he laughs. There’s that signature headache.

“You don’t remember kissing me?”

Wide eyes stare back at you. His lip shakes as he tries to force words out. “What?”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah. You did that.”

“I’m sorry,” he sits up. His vacant arms feel cold.

“No it’s okay. You only kissed me because I told you I loved you,” you sit up to match him.

His head turns to look at you. Tufts of hair stick up in an oddly symmetrical way. “Really? Since when?”

You nod. “Yeah. Time frame is unknown, but I think the feeling might have always been there. So you wasted a month of your life hiding.”

He tips his head, “Hey now, I had a valid reason.”

Your eyes squint at him. “It could have been avoided if you answered my texts. Or Hyunjin’s. Or if you checked your voicemail. Or-”

“Okay, I get it,” he nods, leaning in to shut you up. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say how weird it feels to kiss his best friend—but he’s incredibly excited to get used to it.

“It’s fine. I think. My grades kind of tanked,” you comment, glancing at your desk. The tower of water bottles still stands. Somewhere buried beneath them are your abandoned papers.

“Because of me?” his voice is soft, as are his eyes as he fights back the sting of tears. Of all his intentions, this wasn’t one of them.

This look pains you. “Kinda. I thought I had lost my comfort place.”

In order to disguise his tears, he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be good to you. We can make latte art together at the shop and stargaze at stupid hours. Whatever you want.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Is that a promise?”

He sniffles. “Yes. I love you. That’s the second promise.”

xi.

Hyunjin’s reaction is lackluster. A forced gasp as he waves his hands in surprise. “Wow. I totally didn’t give Chan your number or anything,” he says.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. He called me trying to drop him,” he points at Jeongin, “on me.”

“And you didn’t want to get out of bed?” Jeongin asks, bringing his mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips.

“No,” Hyunjin sticks a finger up in defense. “Kkami wouldn’t let me move.”

What he means is: Yes, I didn’t want to get up but allow me to use my dog as a ploy.

You and Jeongin share a glance to confirm this thought. You burst out laughing.

“Do not tell me you’ve developed a couple's telepathy already,” Hyunjin whines, throwing his head back as he begins to pace the kitchen.

Jeongin begs your stare again. He wiggles his eyebrows to pseudo-communicate.

“I’m going to retail therapy,” Hyunjin sighs, dragging his keys off the counter before starting for the door.

A loud fit of laughter fills the air as the door shakes in its frame.

“He’s so overdramatic,” Jeongin manages, wiping a stray tear away from his eye.

You allow this time to watch him intently. All of his details flood over you with definitive clarity. His skin has gotten its first film of tan now that spring is in full swing. A change of season which you had missed out on together. It’s okay, he’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms next year.

“Oh, I found your earring, by the way,” you say when he catches you staring.

“Really? Where was it?” On instinct, he brings his hand up to his right ear. The lobes are not blinged, but it’s still worth checking.

“Behind the couch.”

He gapes at you. “How’d it get back there?”

“How would I know?”

You allow a silence to lay upon you as his face twists to think. All at once, it lights up again, “Ah. It was probably when we had that wrestling match. I didn’t have the back on because my ear was itchy or something.”

Interesting Jeongin. Questionable Jeongin.

Yang Jeongin is many things. Home. Comfort. Love. Above all else, he’s a friend. Who you happen to kiss from time to time.

#posted on april fools because surprise haha #also because i don’t think this is my best but eh #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin imagine #jeongin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #stray kids jeongin #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #bandaigaeru

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quiet-kunoichi · 3 years

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[ @suck-my-tomato | Halloween Party Oneshot | verse; highschool ]

It was their senior year at last, and Kimiko was not about to let it go to waste. The rest of her high school years had been spent either too insecure to show a little skin, or not single enough to get away with it without some disapproving stares. The tail end of junior year, along with the summer that followed, was spent in a near-lifeless haze: she’d become well accustomed to depressive dissociation and avoidance to the point of self-destructive isolation. Meanwhile, Sasuke likely had the time of his life as a bachelor in the paradise of their recent split: that is, until his chronically-ill brother took a lethal turn for the worse. Upon hearing about Itachi’s sudden death, Kimiko had lassoed herself back into Sasuke’s orbit — Invited herself inside ( she never returned the key to his apartment ), ensured that he was taking care of himself in lieu of his recent loss. Additionally, it felt like a loss of her own, too. She’d known Itachi as long as she had known Sasuke, for obvious reasons. As odd as it sounded once her feelings became obviously romantic for the younger Uchiha, Itachi felt like.. a big brother in-law. After all, he bailed her out of her holding cell after she’d caught Sasuke cheating with that bimbo redhead from chemistry. It was a wonder why he kept the kind of company that he did; the run-ins she’d endured over the last few months since her split with Sasuke had soured her to the whole ‘Akatsuki’ gang. Just a bunch of sleazy womanizers. It’d been quite a few months since that had occured, and Kimiko and Sasuke were growing steadily more attached to one another, once again. Not nearly close to the way they were, before the letters ( still unknown to Sasuke ) and his decision to plant the seed of everlasting insecurity within her by betraying her trust for the opportunity to mesh face with someone new. For a short while before Itachi’s death, Kimi had arrived to parties solely to keep the recently hotheaded Uchiha in line. She was his designated stormbreaker, and was expected to deliver him home safely each night that he took things a bit too far. Those incidents didn’t come without their rewards, such as the few instances in which he’d cling to her in his drunken and drug-addled stupor, apologize profusely and confess his everlasting love.. Just to slip away into sleep seconds afterwards. Admittedly, Kimiko would entertain the heartache of such a prentendedly wholehearted and pure moment before ultimately lapsing to silent tears and peeling herself from his side to take her quiet leave from his shared home. More than a few times, Itachi and the Tamashi would share a quiet and lingering look across the front room. Now that he’s departed, Kimiko often wishes she would have sat next to him and allow herself a single shred of comfort from the situation she’d found herself in. His stare had always been a little somber: Like he knew all of the things that she was shoving beneath the surface. Was this going to be her lingering reality? Harboring this blood-stained secret, playing guardian angel to a haphazard boy whom broke her heart but didn’t manage to drown her love? Perhaps she should’ve asked the wise Uchiha Itachi, before it became too late. Even if she grew back what was left of her mauled heart to learn how to forgive him, Kimiko knew now that a life of romance and love was never going to be the same, for her. Not with old memories dredged back up and spot-lit like fresh wounds, vague yet promising threats from her imprisoned and somehow still imposing father appearing two more times since that first letter made it to her porch step. Sasuke had changed faces and become someone new overnight; he squandered all of his previous promises of her being his one and only — and it elicited a violent response that her father had only just forewarned her of inheriting. Perhaps this was just her destiny, after all. Tonight would be different, in a sense: Kimiko was attending this senior year halloween party solely for herself. She wasn’t trailing in on Sasuke’s colonged scent, nor was she couped up at home until the siren call came and beckoned her to act as ‘Sasuke Uchiha clean-up crew’. She was here to cook up some fun of her own, solely for herself.. Which is precisely what she had told herself at the last party she attended three weeks ago for ‘Homecoming.’ That night tumbled away into a mess of limbs beneath trashed bedsheets: Sasuke and Kimiko had once again found the most intimate form of comfort in one another’s arms, for the first time in.. 8 months. Tonight would be different. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Did she actually just put all of this effort into her costume for the hopes that it would catch his attention above any other girl there? Was she hoping for a similar end to this mixed-bag night as the last party lured them to? Perhaps. It was mostly for herself, though. Yes, the tight black latex zippered corset, a pair of short spandex that clung to her hips and ass like it was life or death, the heeled boots that cut off just below her knee and the tights that squeezed her curved thighs just at their most voluptuous circumference.. The feathered black wings attached to her back and the headband horns adorning her crown .. All the way down to her perfected makeup, the dark tinge to her lips and the dash of gloss at the very center.. It was all for her. Not to grab the attention of anyone who bothered looking her way, and certainly not to make his jaw drop. Once again, her phone buzzes from its place stashed between her breasts. With a sigh that exhales the last puff of her menthol cigarette, ( thank you, Shikamaru ) Kimi plucks the it from her corset and unlocks the device. A strange twist of disappointment curls her stomach when the texts popping up were just from the girls. Perhaps it was a tad childish to wish upon a ball of gas in the sky that Sasuke would reach out to her: provide some sort of hint that he was interested in seeing her tonight — that he wasn’t already wrapped up in some other nameless skank. Instead, it was just Ino and Sakura, buzzing at her ear like flies and wanting to know ‘ Where the hell ’ she was. They made plans to pick her up, but Kimi had different plans for herself. Already outside the party house, the fallen angel runs out the cherry of her pregame cigarette against the side of a white Prius. It belonged to one specific redhead from junior year chemistry class. If she knew what was good for her, that bitch would keep a healthy distance from the Uchiha, and a restraining-order distance from the Tamashi herself. The rest of her flask is guzzled with little more than a post-swallow wince: the fire of honey whiskey lit her back to life. She’d shared swigs with the passenger seat of Ms. White Prius — poor decision to leave the windows open a crack. Now that her confidence was rightly bolstered by liquid courage and her anxious insecurities settled with those two cigarettes, Kimiko pulls herself off the car. She throws a single backward kick of her heel and dents the door, donning a wicked smirk as she heads up the walkway and pushes inside. The damn wings of a fallen angel knock against the doorway — but they’ll provide a healthy bubble of distance from everyone else around her as the crowd parts around her. If she learned anything from the parties she’d attended in the last year — it was to make a b-line from the front ( or back ) door straight to the booze selection.

Although she was already feeling that hot buzz of spirits in her blood, Kimiko needed to secure a drink to clutch for the rest of the night. Any time something stupid was said, any time something unforgivable was done, she would take a drink. And if Sasuke was seen with another girl, after what happened between them at the Homecoming party three weeks ago, and how often she’s been at his apartment and patiently helping him sort through his emotions, after everything that happened between them.. Well, she’d guzzle the whole cup and then someone else’s, too. Maybe crack a skull, pluck a tooth off of the floor for keepsake.. Ino and Sakura have flocked to her side, bubbling with astonished compliments as well as soured remarks on the Tamashi’s disappearance. The familiar crimson of slow boiling rage starts to fade away from the corners of her vision. She’s standing at the kitchen counter, red plastic cup empty and surveying the options. “ Holy wow, Kimi! You look gorgeous. ” Sakura, the little angel of their trio, chimes in at her left. On her right shoulder, Ino the devil shares her opinion. “ Gorgeous? Fuck that. Kimiko looks drop dead sexy. This is definitely an ex-revenge costume. ” Silent as ever ( at least, as she’d become over the last year ) the fallen angel reaches for the rum, rolling her thumb over the cap and flicking it across the marble counter. It glugs liquid fire into her empty cup while Sakura wraps around her arm and tucks her head against Kimi’s shoulder ( a good sign that she was inebriated, herself ). “ Ex-revenge costume? How’s she supposed to get revenge from an outfit? ” The naive pinkette asks. Ino scoffs, “ Are you kidding me? Do you know how many guys have cracked their necks just to gawk at her? I counted six, just on her trip from the front door to the kitchen. ” Kimiko adds a splash of tequila into the mix, as well as the rest of someone’s open redbull can. Then comes the mixer: some sort of grapefruit soda, and a lime. Like, a whole half. She likes the bite. “ And other guys looking at her is supposed to be.. revengeful? ” Sakura questions after slipping from Kimiko’s arm, their polar opposite wings knocking against one another in her clumsy step to shoot a questioning look to their blonde-haired and red-clad she-devil. A hand comes up to Ino’s forehead as she sighs. “ Oh my god, I knew you had too much of my Prosecco. ” Sakura makes to protest, and Kimiko ( who has yet to acknowledge them or make an expression of either distaste or amusement ) takes a tasting swig of her drink. It wasn’t bad, but maybe it needs more grapefruit soda. “ The more attention she gets from other guys, the more jealous Sasuke is gonna get. She gives him a taste of what he’s missing out on. ” Ino explains. Sakura pretends to understand, but she’s never been the type for manipulative revenge schemes. Her payback is served with a crack of her knuckles. Meanwhile, Kimiko uses a healthy balance of the two methods of torture. Even still, as both girls bicker over whether it was a good idea to lure that side out of Sasuke ( especially in lieu of his recent loss ) or to move on like he didn’t exist, Kimiko scanned the crowd for his unforgettable features. They had no idea of what happened between the two at that last party; they didn’t know about his once thorny exterior quickly becoming dependent on her emotional support through this difficult time, nor how she honestly felt concerned and protective over him despite still trying to figure out how to forgive him ( or if she even had the kindness left in her to accomplish such a feat ). At last, they’d found each other through the writhing mass of bodies mingling, dancing, flirting, and drinking in a kaleidoscope of lights. Yellow high-beams meet swimming pools of obsidian over the rim of her cup. The whole world deafens and stills around them: despite the five yards of distance that separated the two, Kimiko swore she could hear his shaky exhale as he drinks in her visage — wonders briefly if he could somehow hear the tripping thrum of her heartbeat as her stare flickers over his own devilishly desirable costume. Pulling her lips from her drink, the fallen vixen swipes bubblegum tongue quickly over her lip and offers a little wink across the room ( unseen from her female counterparts ). Let’s hope this doesn’t backfire.

#suck-my-tomato #are you ready for this mayhem #verse; highschool #oneshot; wickedparty #tw; alcohol #tw; trauma mention #tw; death mention

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catmansquad · 3 years

Text

FFXIV: Tea & Cake

In which Emet-Selch is forced to deal with the antics of his friends.

For perhaps the fifth time that evening, Emet-Selch caught himself sighing, arms folded and legs crossed, resting on an ornate chair of his own creation. ‘If you keep doing that, you’ll deflate.’ Hythlodaeus noted, carefully watching the mixing bowl with the large spoon in front of him as it churned the bright brown mass inside. ‘I’m not sure what about this situation is more absurd; the fact that you are actually baking, or that you insist on doing so in that... shape.’ ‘Oh, woe; the great Emet-Selch, Creator of Sandwiches. You should try it sometime, it’s a most therapeutic exercise!’ The bright red, fluffy tail swayed cheerfully, Hythlodaeus spared him a grin, his eyes a piercing emerald shade, pupils slit, and a mess of red hair crowned with the fluffy ears of a cat. ‘Pray tell, what is wrong with this new shape? I find it quite fun!’ As if to prove a point, his ears wiggled. Emet stared, face fixed in a constant state of disinterest and scoffed. ‘Well, this at least will put a smile on your face afterwards.’ Hythlodaeus returned his attention to the mixing bowl, grabbing it and the spoon before the mixture could spill over. ‘Would you like a taste-?’ ‘I would not.’ The response was instantaneous. Hythlodaeus pouted, his ears drooped and Emet furthered his point by holding out a hand, upon which appeared a large slice of cake and a fork on a sliver plate. ‘You should try it sometime.’ Emet responded with a gentle shrug. A brief scowl settled across the other’s face, and Emet was almost brought to smirking to see such an expression settle on Hythlodaeus’ current face. The urge faded when the created cake burst into flames, charred to ashes in an instant. ‘Petty, even by your standards,’ Emet noted, unravelling the ashes, fork and plate back into aether.

Emet stopped counting in his head at the fifth minute of watching Hythlodaeus crouch before the oven, staring in with a look of glee. ‘I am no expert, but surely staring at it will not make it bake faster.’ Hythlodaeus looked to him, his fluffy ears on end and eyes sparkling. ‘But, it’s beautiful. It’s not something I’ve just created. It’s something I’ve made.’ He returned his gaze to the oven and a squeal of delight escaped him of such a pitch that Emet shot to his feet, fearful that his friend had caught his blasted tail on fire. ‘What is it?’ He demanded, settling down from his panic to his usual grumpy persona. ‘It’s baking, it’s rising...!’ Emet folded his arms again, finding the stark white ceiling of greater interest. Truth be told, the smell emanating from the oven had begun to make him feel hungry. His mind spooled through all manner of dishes, pondering just what he fancied to bring into being to fill his stomach. His concentration broke as he saw Hythlodaeus, staring right at him with those slit pupils. ‘There is no aether creation of food in this kitchen.’ His voice was stern, serious. Emet arched an eyebrow, sitting up straight in his chair. ‘You’re the only one in Amaurot who has a kitchen. Others? Workspaces, functional things. You? Pots, pans, and a waste of space.’ He watched the slow smirk curl its way onto his friend’s features, his tail was swaying again. ‘Azem has one, too... He invited me over the other day and we got very messy with cream puffs!’ At Hythlodaeus’ words, Emet choked on his own saliva as his mind ran wild briefly. ‘Did you... You surely didn’t go out in the streets like... that?’ ‘Mhmm, and to the Bureau of the Architect! All the young ones wanted to feel my silky ears and tail. Elidibus couldn’t keep his hands off me, marveling in it.’ He watched as Emet slowly buried his face in his hands, a soft sound of anguish escaping. ‘Stars above... Hythlodaeus, this is almost as bad Azem returned in the shape of a sultry female, styling herself “Azeyma”, and nearly causing a riot in that... revealing outfit.’ Hythlodaeus sprung up to his feet again, cheerful. ‘As I recall, it was you who were the first on the scene, trying to cover him up in your own robe...’ ‘He thinks nothing of his own reputation, Hythlodaeus! I cannot always be there to save him from censure.... Seven and counting.’ His voice trailed off into a low grumble as Hythlodaeus snickered softly into a flour coated sleeve. ‘... The majority enabled by your actions; I might add!’ Hythlodaeus broke down into full laughter, wiping away a tear and only succeeding in smearing flour across his features. ‘I am surrounded by imbeciles...’ Emet groaned.

Emet remained on his chair still, his interest fixed on Hythlodaeus as he perched on a stool; tongue poking out one corner of his mouth in focus. His hands clasping a piping bag filled with a hideously bright pink icing, hunched over a large circular lump of chocolate brown that had emerged from the oven and rapidly cooled. Behind him, a marble sink had filled with soapy, bubbly water where bowls and utensils obediently washed themselves. ‘What is the.... attempt behind this, Hythlodaeus?’ ‘Do you remember when you first took your seat in the Convocation and we had that party, just the three of us?’ ‘I do remember that. I do not, however, remember the cake there being that hideous shade of pink-’ ‘Oops...’ Hythlodaeus stared at the large blob of icing spurted across the cake from squeezing slightly too hard. Shrugging, he continued with a gentler pressure. ‘Well, I’m not going to make it the same, am I? I don’t want the same cake. I want a cake that I made...’ A drawer opened, and a pallet knife flew out into Hythlodaeus’ waiting hand. ‘Besides, that cake was a hideous purple abomination.’ Emet rolled his eyes at Hythlodaeus’ comment. “Catty” seemed a perfect description, somehow.

The doorbell chimed and Hythlodaeus’ ears went on end, leaving the piping bag to continue it’s work; piping gentle roses along the base, he leapt from his stool and sprinted to the door. Curious, Emet rose from his chair, about to follow him when he heard Hythlodaeus’ cheerful exclamation and in the instant, he knew exactly who had come calling. ‘My friend! How were your adventures? Come in, I have something I’d like you to try!’ Emet lingered in the kitchen, torn between staying and greeting the other who was both the joy and bane of his existence. Then he heard Hythlodaeus giggling. ‘No-! No! S-s-stop, they’re sensitive! Nooooo! Stooooooop...!’ He stepped into the hall, and his mind took a moment to process what he was witnessing; there was Hythlodaeus, squirming and giggling in the grasp of one taller than him. Then there was Azem, in yet another form; golden hair and skin, grinning with white horns and scales as he cradled the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect in his arms and nuzzled against his fluffy ears. Hades wondered if this was what it must be like to be sane in a world gone mad.

‘Come in, have a seat, tell me everything I’ll get tea- and cake..!’ Hythlodaeus’ cheer continued as Emet trailed him back into the kitchen. Hades watched his friend quickly pass a hand over the finished cake; the pink icing brightened to yellow with golden glitter, the icing flowing into a shining sun. ‘That doesn’t count.’ He answered to Emet’s raised eyebrow as he turned with the plated cake in his hands. A cupboard opened, cups and saucers hopping down to the counter. ‘Hythlodaeus...?’ Azem’s voice called in from the lounge, and the man in question’s ears perked up again. ‘Yes?’ ‘How do you manage to sit with the tail? I’m still figuring that part out.’ ‘I just curl mine around me.’ A relieved sigh came from the lounge. ‘Ahh, that’s so much better, thanks!’ Hythlodaeus’ ears wiggled again, his tail swaying as he beamed. ‘Are you going to join us, Hades?’ Emet’s mind finally snapped out of the stupor it had been stuck in, finding his friend smiling up at him, cake in hand and tray full of cups and a teapot hovering just behind. His stony features broke into a warm smile. ‘Yes... Yes, I think I will.’

#FFXIV #ffxiv azem #emet-selch #hythlodaeus #Hythlodaeus is a loon

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v-velvetykisscs · 3 years

Text

Safety Net

Note: here’s the update after two months. I’m so sorry, I’ve been going through personal stuff and school has been stressing me out like crazy. Hope you like this !!

Chapter 2:

My heartbeat is ringing in my ears. I watch the figures in the passenger seat attentively, whilst inhaling deeply and exhaling once again. 10 minutes have passed inside of this car, and not a single word has been spoken by Historia or either of the people in the driver and passenger seat. My palms are moist and a warm rush passes through my body. I dig my nails into the soft, damp skin of my palms. My eyes divert to the window of the car, following the fleeting street lights with my eyes before screwing my eyes shut. I'm going to be sick. This dread has formed a coiled-up knot in my stomach, I fear it'll travel up my throat and out.

"What is this?" I state firmly.

Historia turns her head away from her black ballet flats to look at me, rigid strands of her golden hair falling onto her face. Her eyes widen and her eyebrows furrow. She purses her lips as she looks away from me.

I stare furiously into the rear-view mirror.

"Who are you guys?"

The man in the driver's seat, pushes his glasses down onto the bridge of his nose and makes eye contact with me. His dark, thick eyebrows are relaxed and his chocolatey eyes pour indirectly into mine.

"So she didn't tell you."

I've seen those eyes somewhere.

"No, why would I be asking?"

As if on cue, he stops at the red light, turning around slowly.

"She's a feisty one, Krista."

He sports a light brown messy hair-do and leather jacket as a replacement for the white shirt, brown waistcoat and black bow tie.

"What the fuck?! I recognise you, you're the bartender I spoke to back there."

"I'm Jean, Sugar Cube." he smirks, quirking an eyebrow.

I spare him a glance before waiting for the other to speak.

"And I'm Armin." A shorter, skinnier man speaks quietly before turning to give me a small smile. He has short, straw-blonde hair and dusty blue eyes.

"Nice to meet you, although this doesn't answer my question."

The red-light fades to green and Jean turns around and pushes the pedal, resuming his driving.

I focus on Historia again, waiting for her to give me a response.

"I swear I was going to tell you-"

"And I was there to make sure that she would, but when I realised you ran into trouble, I got my baby ready for a swift escape." Jean intervenes.

"Who do you work for?"

"I work at Yeager Corporations, Jean and Armin are my colleagues."

"And where are they taking us?"

"The HQ. It's the safest place at the moment." Armin butts in promptly.

"You obviously don't know the first thing about me but I would definitely feel much safer within the walls of my house."

"I'm sure anyone would, but right now we need to make it to HQ, where the boss will know what to do."

...

I eye the pair as they slam the front doors of the vehicle and walk to either side of the car to prompt the doors open for us.

I huff, snatching my messenger bag up from the floor, reaching for the door handle. I hold onto it. Jean notices and frowns a little. He speaks loud enough for me to hear him through the glass with a muffle. "Allow me." he insists. I let go of the door handle and wait for him. He moves to the side and I step out of the car. "Thank you" I fix the neat rows of cars parked opposite us instead of making eye contact.

Historia falls behind and walks besides me.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Because there's more to it."

"God you sound so morbid. Look, I've covered your ass more times than I seem to recall, so nothing you do shocks me. I know you better than anyone else."

"But this is different."

I pause.

"Different how?"

"We're nearly there, ladies."

"Alright Jean."

She wobbles forward as she tries to walk faster than before to avoid resuming our conversation. I glance at her injured foot; her ankle is bruised and battered with purple and blue. It looks as if it's swelling. I move up next to her and hold her arm, putting it gently around my shoulder to support her. I look away from her. There's an elevator. The boys pause and we walk a few more steps. Armin's finger skims over the numbers. He pushes the button. After a while, the metallic doors slide open smoothly.

Stepping out of the lift, Armin strides forward, his shoes clunking somewhat gracefully onto the white marble tiles. Jean follows quickly behind, not wanting to be the one left behind to tail the group. He puffs his chest out, straightening his posture to make himself seem taller and more intimidating. He turns and gives me a side smirk, but I scoff and roll my eyes, not allowing myself to associate with that heathen. Historia places a hand on your shoulder almost comfortingly, ushering you to follow behind Armin and that cocky bastard Jean. I exhale defeatedly, having no choice but to follow along and play their stupid little game. Historia whimpers, her ankle still being in moderate pain and currently untreated. This left her hopeless at the back, hopping along and trying to keep up with everyone else's paces. I check back on Historia every so often to make sure she's okay, and the lift door shuts, leaving only the cityscape lights to illuminate the room. I think to myself for a moment, how blindingly bright it must be here on a sunny day, the room being mostly white, and white being a reflective colour. Is that why mafia bosses wear sunglasses? I guess we'll never know. Focusing myself again, I turn back around to face the backs of Armin and Jean, whispering to one another, Armin occasionally glancing back at me.

"So.. where are we going?" I ask, feeling quite awkward being sandwiched between these weirdos. There was no response from either of them. Only the low chatter and the monotonous sound of a few keyboards typing away filled the silence. In fact, they both stopped whispering and continued to walk. I narrow my eyes, balling my hands into a fist and beginning to pierce my skin with my nails.

"Hello? I know the two of you aren't fucking deaf." This was a bold move from me, adrenaline rushing through my body as my anger levels continued to rise, them both still ignoring me. These fuckers. I look back at Historia hopelessly, asking for assistance with my eyes. She just stares back blankly at me, trying to keep her own balance whilst walking, leaving me to debate whether I should just throw a tantrum in the middle of the workroom, there and then, oblivious to the consequences.

"What the FUCK is this." I raise my voice this time, close to a yell. They both stop and look at each other, then turning back around to me. The sound of Historia's shoes stopped behind me. I gulped, looking up at the two of them. "Our workroom." Armin would finally reply, scarily calm.

Jean intervenes "It's our condo. We make business here, We drink and eat and socialise. No need to get so worked up, you little lemon. We're nearly there."

I let a short, humourless laugh escape, pulling my lips into a horrid smile. Jean smiles, unbothered by my sour attitude. "Bye Hitch!" Jean exclaims, waving at someone; a woman, in chunky, leather Dr. Martens black boots, red fishnet tights, a red lingerie silk dress with a khaki green jacket. She's carrying a black duffel back over her shoulder. She waves back at him with her free hand, smirking. "You have a goodnight" he says to himself. We make a right turn, down a corridor, past white office doors with plastic plaques. We walk past a red haired man, sliding a piece of paper with printed lettering through one of the transparent plates. "Still on prep duty I see, Floch." Jean blurts as he passes the man.

"Shut up Horseface." he retorts bitterly, sparing a quick glance at me before returning to his job. A few steps away sits a nameless mahogany door. Armin takes a nimble step forward, knocking on the door softly. When no one responds, Jean twists the door handle, leaving the door ajar. He slips through and we follow. The room is illuminated by a dim light dangling from the ceiling, above a round, oak table. The table is littered with playing cards, 3 cans of coke and 3 open packets of potato chips on the surface, crumbs splayed all over. The space smells of cheap lavender diffuser. Two people are sitting at the table, simultaneously turning their heads around to look at the commotion. One of them- a woman- with long brown hair, tied back in a dishevelled ponytail and beige skin, has potato chips crumbs on her face. Her chocolate eyes widen at the sight of us. The other, a man- has a buzz cut with prominent, light green eyes that mirror the woman's expression.

"Oh- Jean! We didn't expect you to pay us a visit. Otherwise I might've thought about saving you some of these." The woman admits, her tone guilty as she looks down at the empty, open crisps packets.

"Oh spare me the apology Sasha, these things have a lot of calories in them anyway. I was hoping you'd know where I can find Jaeger."

"Jaeger? He should be in his office, working late." The man adds.

"Thanks Connie."

Connie nods, craning his neck and swinging his chair back, his hands holding the table as he gazes at me curiously.

"Who's this?"

"Y/n, Y/n L/n." I respond before Jean can

Sasha laughs loudly, seeming to have heard that.

We've now walked back to the main lobby and steered towards a set of a coiling staircase. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing Historia's arm gently. " I'm not letting you go further in the state you're in." I eye Armin, his eyes already fixated on me. "Will you please take care of her?"

Armin nods sharply, walking towards Historia.

"Y/N, I'm okay-" She begins, but I turn around beginning to walk up the steps. "Lead the way" I ordered Jean. At the top, Jean saunters over to a pair of opaque double doors. Next to those are 3 velvet cushion chairs. I stare at him as he brings his fist up on the door, to knock gently.

I gulp.

"Come in." a voice from within says clearly, with a neutral tone.

#fanfic #snk #writing #eren yeager #eren x reader #smut #mafia au #aot s4 #aot #hot #safety net

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monty-whatshisname · 3 years

Text

*Untitled Story*

Chapter 1

***

“Hey, John.”

“Hello, Brody.” The newcomer stood in the direct middle of the hall, staring down his nose at me with an elegant expression. “Why did you stay behind yesterday?”

“Detention,” I shrugged, gingerly attempting to pass on his right. “It happens sometimes.”

He lifted an arm to block me. I froze as the cuff of his pristine white shirt brushed against my chest “Ah. So where are you going now?”

“To class?” I tried to swallow, but every muscle was burning. I felt like if I moved another inch, I'd regret everything. John was a newcomer to my school. He'd only been here a few weeks, but had already gained the admiration of practically everyone he locked eyes with. “I’m not interested in joining your little fanclub, sir.”

Dunno where the “sir” came from, but apparently it was the wrong move. I refused to look at his face, but his arm visibly tensed, fingers twitching and regaining composure in the span of a blink. “What?” His voice, usually so vanilla, had suddenly spiked. He cleared his throat and tried again “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re not normal,” I muttered, grabbing his arm to push past to my classroom.

He got his fingers laced backwards around my hand, catching me as I passed “What was that, Brody?”

“Nothing.”

“No, really,” he rotated under his arm so his face was barely inches away from mine “You can tell me. I’m not insulted easily.” His breath smelled like an abandoned candle store: sweet, smooth…tinged with must.

I bit my lip and dared a glance up into his eyes. Oh, mercy, they were so fake. Like little marbles sitting where his eyes should've been. “I…I said you’re…you’re not normal!”

“Eh?” John’s voice croaked in surprise, his eyes lighting up with a brief spark of realism. I'd caught him completely off guard.

There was silence for a moment. The hall was empty, the final bell already rung. The only noise was the murmur of teachers behind classroom doors, as if the two of us had slipped into a crack of frozen time and space.

John's marble-eyes held steady contact with mine as he pulled away. “Wh-where on earth did you get such a silly notion…” he mumbled. He turned away and started walking, attempting to shield his rapidly darkening expression “Who’s protecting you…?”

“Me!” Emboldened by the fact I'd finally touched a nerve, I stepped after him “What alien is controlling you?”

“No one's 'controlling' me.” John walked a little faster, his answer surprisingly blunt. “Isn’t your classroom the other way?”

“We go to the same class, pal,” I have longer legs than he does.

He started half-jogging “Leave me alone, then.”

“Not gonna.”

This is stupid, my brain was saying. But I was too hungy to stop now. Two weeks of nothing but trying to subtly rope me into his growing gaggle of "friends", and now he couldn’t even stand up to a little odd comment.

“What are you hiding~?” I singsonged, skipping next to him as he tried to go faster.

I saw his eyes flash, with what emotion, I couldn’t tell, and he broke into a dead run. His perfectly shined shoes made a pinging noise against the hall floor with every step, becoming successively more deliberate with every stride.

I finally had to break into a trot behind him, still tailing him enough to brush the back of his sweater. “Dude-huff-you running only makes this worse!” How long was this hallway? “You look-puff-really guilty right now~!”

His feet hit the floor simultaneously and he sprinted, flinging his book bag into a row of lockers with an echoing crash. We barely heard the shout of an exasperated teacher telling us to slow down. Nothing mattered now. Reality was an insignificant blur. I had prey to catch and it wouldn’t. stop. running!

The impact happened before I even had a chance to register the wall. John stumbled to a stop and spun around to face me, but I slammed full-force into his stomach. The world was fuzzy and my breath came hard, but I heard John's breathing come just as ragged and realized I had him pinned.

“Where’re all your friends now, Goody-Two-Shoes?” I huffed, a carnivorous grin spreading helplessly over my face.

“Boys! Knock that off this instant!” A voice from behind. Judging from the footsteps and flash of grey curls, it was our substitute teacher, Mr. Elliot.

“Speak!” I hissed. I grabbed John’s arms and forced them over his head “Are you crazy? Are you scared of me? What is it?”

“Mister Maria! Get off him!” Elliot’s voice was edged with a shrill enough pitch to make your ears boil.

But I didn’t let him go. I shook his arms “Tell me!”

John mumbled something I didn’t quite hear.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.” John raised his head and locked eyes with me. I realized his fingers were gripping, no, sinking into the wall behind him. The wall fragmented like a punched mirror, cracks spidering outward in a chorus of unholy creaking. I felt like I was watching through the eyes of someone else. I couldn’t move.

John leaned backward into the fracture and grabbed my wrists. I was flung over his head, splinters of wall scraping along my body, and plunged into the dusky abyss on the other side. Gracefully, John leaped off the edge of the hallway and hovered down beside me, a crooked smile spreading across his face “Got you.”

***

Stop.

Pause game.

Continue?

My eyes felt runny and heavy. I pried them open regardless.

My limbs were suspended in midair, and yet they felt impossibly heavy. My head? No, I couldn’t move that either. Blinking felt like dragging a 100-pound weight through a pit of half-dry cement. My vision flickered and crackled, everything swimming like an old-fashioned TV screen. What was this? Hello?

Is this an after-dream? The air certainly felt warm and thick. Like a blanket. Am I asleep? This heaviness…I wanted it to drag me down into its conclusion. Wrap me in its singularity and never permit me to wake up…wake up…

Greetings, mortal.

The words weren’t so much spoken as they sort of just appeared in my head, scrolling by like rpg dialogue.

Hello?

My lips couldn’t move, but the word seemed to hover in the air.

Hello!

I wasn’t alone. The rainbow static burned at my eyesight, but I could still make out a vague form. No arms, large shoes, round glasses…curly hair…? Elliot??

Hello!

Elliot repeated. He didn’t seem to move, but his expression changed. This was no surprise to me, honestly. He had always been a little off.

What happened?

You fell through a wall.

Well, I mean…duh.

What about now? What’s happening?

I’m protecting you.

Why?

Elliot's face flickered to a different expression.

The wood shards created by Johnny’s little mess will impale you in about 1.32 milliseconds.

You stopped time?? Get me out of here, then!

Another flicker.

I cannot. I am not that powerful.

I noticed an earring swinging from his right lobe. It was gold, studded with exactly two red gems. Despite my grainy vision, I could see every detail of it clearly.

Can you do anything, then? Or…what was the point of this?

I can give you a choice: you can die, and the one you call John will reveal himself to you. Or, I can administer rebirth and you can find out on your own.

My eyes got lost in his words, reality feathering at the corners of my gaze like a corrupted video tape. So this confirmed my suspicion that John wasn’t normal, but more questions welled up because of that. He's going to kill me in…what was it?

1.32 milliseconds.

Yeah. He's going to kill me in a literal second. Does this mean he would hurt the rest of the school? Why would he want to kill me, anyway? Not even the popular girls go that far if someone doesn’t like them.

But on the other hand…my parents. My teachers. My family. It’s complicated, but…I don’t want to put a funeral on their plate, of all things.

What’s does rebirth entail?

You lose your humanity. But gain a second chance.

I stopped.

What…kind of…

Are you scared of teeth?

No…?

It took a minute to fully process. This was something only talked about in joking, disregarded as myth.

Please choose quickly. Our time is almost up.

I felt a tremor in the air, like distant thunder. I wasn’t breathing, I realized. The only thing that wasn’t a part of the air were mine and Elliot’s thoughts. The connection flowed freely between us. I understood everything. And so did he.

I don’t want my parents to notice, okay?

They won’t. At least for a few weeks.

Meh. I'll take what I can get.

Elliot smiled. He tipped his head back to reveal the full extent of his glistening teeth, two small fangs pushing through, widening…stretching…sharpening…

His earring caught the dim light like a gleaming eye.

Continue game.

Loading new files, please wait.

***

The air dropped me out of its grasp, a searing light ripping across my eyeballs. The sound of wood chips plinking to the ground below nearly deafened me. I squeezed my eyes shut as a million little wooden knives bit my flesh and my skull fractured into the pavement. Two little spots of red, residual light from Elliot’s earring, lingered in my mind as everything else faded away.

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#writing #original writing #horror #mild gore #school #vampire #chapter 1

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strangest-loser · 4 years

Text

Criminal minds Rewrite

Oh Ophelia - Spencer Reid X OC - Prologue

Masterlist / Soundtrack (Spotify) / Character Board

*This story will be heavily based on a soundtrack that will be influenced by the story, each chapter will correspond to a song on the soundtrack and while listening to them isn’t necessary I highly recommend it. - Aoife*

Chapter song: Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears For Fears

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Red coated her vision as she struggled against the pair of arms drawing her deeper and deeper under water, she couldn’t see anything except red. The air was leaving her lungs forcefully as the pressure is weighing oh her head, a flash of blonde appearing in front of her as she finally stops struggling letting the abyss swallow her whole.

It was, in her opinion, way too early for Lily to be startled awake by the ungodly squawk of the white alarm clock next to her head and a pair of bodies laying on her chest, a plush blonde paw swiping at her nose looking for attention. It took three attempts of slapping the clock into silence and lifting herself into a sitting position staring down through half lidded eyes at the two curious faces. Beatrice and Katrina stared back at her, eyes wide and tails swishing before the inevitable mewls of hunger erupted from their tiny bodies that were looking for breakfast. Getting out from under her warm cocoon was hard for her whenever she had that nightmare, it was recurring and it really rattled her, but she really had no idea where it came from. Walking across the icy floor boards of her old ass DC apartment into the kitchen never got easier, she was accompanied by two puff balls at her feet before they both took their seats on the bar stools, both cats knew not to sit on the counters, but they were full time ‘little shits’ so they decided to get as close as possible to breaking the rule, Beatrice got brave once and placed a single white paw on the grey marble while staring Lily down who was watching her from the door... poor girl forgot what the treat bag sounded like, she knew not to mess with mama after that. After the furry divas were given their bowls the shower was ran and Lily got herself ready for her day. A freshly washed cream shirt was tucked into her favorite black midi skirt. Her chestnut hair scooped into a ponytail and finally her black jacket and boots were slipped on at the door and checking the water bowls for her girls she grabbed her keys, satchel and umbrella before she dipped out into the Washington DC rain.

Photographs blinked on and off the screen as she stared out onto the class of freshman agents in training, the class she would have been in had it not been for the man who was giving the lecture, standing off to the side almost out of sight she listened as Gideon spoke of a previous case. “Does anyone recognize these faces?” he asked the class of 60, all of which looked vaguely uncomfortable at the images presented to them of the victims corpses. Lily knew, but she wasn’t going to say anything just yet. Finally, a girl Lily knew named Kasey piped up, “Victims of the footpath killer”. Lily’s mouth hitched into a smile at that answer knowing that Gideon didn’t like to name unsubs. “That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him, but we refer to him as the unknown subject or UNSUB. I told Virginia PD they are looking for a white male in his 20s who owns an American made truck, disrepair, works a menial job. I told them when you find him, don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.” Another girl Lily knew, Inez, put her hand up to question him. “Not to sound skeptical but come on, a stutter?” Gideon’s eyes fell to his TA who was still leaning against the wall of the lecture hall, eyes meeting her hazel ones as she stepped forward to answer now that Gideon had given her the floor. “Where did the murders occur? on hiking paths. Its isolated. He’s a killer who had to use an immediate application of overpowering force out in the middle of nowhere, he lacks confidence. He can’t charm them into his car like Ted Bundy did, none of us ladies would feel compelled enough to go just about anywhere with someone who sounds like a jammed printer so he would have to be ashamed of something, case in point, a stutter.” she joked pulling a laugh out of the trainees in the lecture hall. “Nothing against speech impediments,” she clarified with a wink and a cheeky grin. Her statement was answered by the door to her right slamming open and Hellooo~ an adorable, lanky brunette man creeps in looking at Gideon before tapping on a case file. Lily tore her eyes away from the cute intruder and smiled, Gideon really needed a win after his last case and she could tell that his ‘Extended Medical Leave’ was driving him nuts. Gideon dismissed the lecture before looking at Lily and motioning for her to follow him. That’s never happed before but Lily knew better than to question him. “Class dismissed, go eat a cookie you guys deserve it!” She called following the other two out of the door.

“They are calling him ‘The Seattle Strangler’ four victims in four months, keeps them alive for seven days, the handle acts as a crank” The man she knew of as Dr. Reid, the genius of the academy informed the two as they all marched down the hallways of Quantico. “Allowing them to control the rate of suffocation” she piped up examining the crime scene photo he was holding. Reid looked at the stranger that Gideon had brought with him “To prolong it?” he questioned her observation. “To enjoy it” was Gideon’s answer before launching back into schematics. “Seattle has hit a wall?” Reid nodded “Physical evidence is non existent, there are no tangible leads.” Gideon stopped then and pulled the Crime scene photo closer to himself and Lily. “Another girl is missing.” He muttered before marching into his office the two brunets following him. Lily spent a lot of time in this office over the last two years. Gideon hand plucked her out of her Criminal Psychology class at UCI at 18 years old and to this day it was still a mystery to her, sure she was intelligent but she was well aware that she was not God’s gift to the FBI, she was just as good as everybody else in the academy so why Gideon decided to bring her under his wing was lost on her. She asked him once and he only smiled at her and answered with “I’m trusting my gut” and she was smart enough to know that she wasn’t going to get an answer any clearer than that out of him so she stopped asking and just took the opportunity as the blessing it was. She finished her Irvine degree while she completed her training at the academy and she was fast tracking her was straight to graduating later that year at age 20, beating out Dr. Reid's record of 22, but she knew realistically that was because he enrolled at the academy at a later age than she did. Gideon defiantly had to pull in some favors to get her in at her young age but her written test scores exceeded expectations and her physical exam fell well within the parameters to qualify so she was accepted to the academy under the direct watch of SSA Jason Gideon meaning if she messed up its his neck on the line. Lily took this seriously as a result and was thriving under his guidance.

Just as she took up her seat on the couch against the wall adjacent to the desk two other agents she didn’t really know yet entered and spoke directly to Gideon, not yet noticing the girl curled up in the corner, her legs tucked up underneath her skirt as she motioned for Dr. Reid to hand her the photograph one last time, he did and loomed over she shoulder trying to spot what she was looking at, if she was seeing something they weren't. She was trying not to notice just how close the attractive genius was getting to her. “You’re gonna be in Seattle with us ASAP.” announced the raven haired serious man who was now standing in the room with his partner, Lily was well aware of who SSA Aaron Hotchner was. Gideon looked reserved as he took off his reading glasses and moved forward to take the picture of the missing girl the stranger was holding out for him. Lily rose from her nest in the corner and joined him, not missing the odd looks she got from the two BAU agents. “23 year old Heather Woodland, before she left for lunch she downloaded an email with a time delayed virus attached.” Hotchner spoke before the one man she didn’t know piped up again “The killer’s virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen.” He handed Gideon another photograph who took one look at it before handing it to Lily, he really seemed determined to get her involved so she took it. The words on the photo were extremely familiar to her as she had read them countless times in the case files Gideon made her study inside out. “For heavens sake stop me before I kill more I cannot control myself.” she read aloud before waltzing to the wall without looking up and holding the picture up to another in a glass frame which read the same exact same words, ‘William Heirens, The Lipstick Killer, 1945.’ written under it.

“He never keeps them for more than seven days which means we have fewer than thirty six hours to find her.” Hotchner spoke, his tone grave and serious, Lily wondered if that’s what he always sounded like. “They want you back in the saddle” came the strangers voice once again and Lily’s gaze shot to her mentor as his face filled with what looked to her like fear, no, apprehension. “Looks like medical leave is over boss” she cracks pulling a smile out of the young doctor standing at the back of the room. Gideon faced Hotchner, “You’re sure they want me?” he asks deadly serious. “The order came from the director.” Gideon then faced Lily dead on prompting the other three men to look at the young woman as Gideon addressed her “Up for some on the job training?” Lily clearly showed the shock on her face as Hotchner began to object to the idea of having someone as young as Lily on the case but Gideon shot him down immediately “My only condition is that she comes with us. She’s my star pupil and I want her with me.” The raven haired man began to look the girl over and Lily steeled her gaze, challenging Hotchners own as he finally nodded and made it very clear that she was Gideon’s responsibility. The agent nodded and let his gaze fall back onto the picture Lily had pointed out earlier. “Then we better get started.”

Joseph Conrad said “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."

The SUV pulled up onto the tarmac of the airstrip as Gideon piled out of it quickly followed by Lily who had just enough time to race home, pack a bag and drop Beatrice and Katrina off with her neighbor Annalise and make it back in time to get going. She followed behind the other agents falling into step with Reid before she reached the top of the steps and looked back out at SSA Hotchner who was talking to a female agent the two were speaking before both looked directly at her before talking once more. Lily knew this was her one shot that she couldn’t mess up, Gideon was already going to get weird questions for bringing her along without her accidentally falling flat on her ass in a crime scene or something. She seated herself in the seat across from Reid for the debrief as the plane took off. No going back now.

“First victim was 26 year old Melissa Kirsch, stab wounds, strangulation-” Reid was listing off the facts from the case file in his hands before he was cut off by who Lily learned in the car was SSA Derek Morgan “Wait back up back up, he stabbed her, then strangled her to finish her off?” “Other way around” Gideon corrected before asking Reid “Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” Lily instead piped up with an answer like that annoying kid in the class who doesn’t know when to shut up. “Strangulation with your bare hands would take too long and is harder to complete effectively, he probably started out with that before switching to the belt-” “And then stabbed her out of impatience” Morgan finished her thought with a nod. “Then realized he would be hours cleaning up the blood.” Came Hotchners input. “So next time my boys got a method, the belt.” Morgan concluded pulling a nod from the rest of the group. “He’s learning,” Gideon pointed out, “Perfecting his scenario, becoming a better killer.” The debrief concluded and everyone went back to doing their own thing trying to fill the time before they reached Seattle.

Lily was comfortable in the seat she picked so she didn’t feel compelled to move to the back of the plane to sit with Gideon, plus she wanted to give him a break, she felt bad that (in her mind) everyone seemed to paint her as this inconvenient child that he was babysitting when she knew that she could handle this case. Gideon was more of a father to her than her own one is right now, so she was going to make him proud. She curled up similarly to how she did in the office pulling her legs up out of sight and curling into the seat behind her, pulling an old, well loved copy of ‘Hamlet’ out of her satchel and opening it back up to where she left off, where Hamlet was unleashing his feigned madness unto a confused Ophelia. “I take it you are a fan of the classics?” came a voice breaking the silence and she looked up only to meet Reid’s gaze as he gestured to the book in her hands. “Oh, yeah I love Shakespeare, as you can clearly see” she said with a friendly smile holding up the book with clear tape holding together the paperback spine together and its yellowed pages. “To die, to sleep-” The man in front of her began to quote from memory before Lily joined in to complete the line, “To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...” the two laughed softly at their synchronicity before silence fell again broken quickly by Lily who desperately wanted to keep the conversation going, “Its funny my mother wanted to give me a Shakespearian name but my dad thought they were too old fashioned and worried that I would be bullied so they settled on Ophelia as my middle name.” she informed him her eyes drifting to look at her fingers which suddenly became very interesting, she really didn’t like talking about her family. Her drop in happiness at the thought of her parents and sisters was immediately picked up on by Gideon and by Reid, her mentor was quick to call her over to him and Lily left her spot with a quiet “excuse me” before sitting with Gideon. So much for that conversation she wanted. “You will have to tell them about her eventually, it’s not something you can avoid when they work with her.” He pointed out to the girl and she sighed softly but knew he was right. “I will, when the opportunity arises, I’m only an acting agent on this case and these people are strangers to me, they don’t need to know my life story.” She explained, and with that silence resumed and the flight was spent with Lily’s nose in her book.

It surprisingly wasn’t raining when the five of them reached the FBI Northwest Field Office hours later, Lily walked in at Gideon’s side having swapped her blouse and skirt combo out for her black leggings, white t-shirt and royal blue UC Irvine sweatshirt, her combat boots and an FBI jacket and badge that Gideon handed her once they got off the plane, items he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. Walking ahead of the others she could still hear them talking about Gideon, Morgan commenting on his PTSD and if she could hear them then Gideon definitely could, it their gossip angered him he didn’t show it as they opened the glass doors into a bullpen full of field agents. “This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan our expert on obsessional crimes, Special Agent Reid-” Hotchner was cut off by Gideon,”Dr. Reid, our expert on everything” which pulled a few laughs “and Agent Jareau.” Well there's the opportunity she was looking for... she was gonna have to talk to him when this case was over...

Lily’s introduction caused both Morgan and Reid to look at her with matching confused and bewildered expressions to which she just mouthed ‘I’ll tell you later’, “and after years busting my butt in this office I hope you remember me.” Hotchner finished bringing the attention away from Lily once more. “He’s willing to travel with a body”, Gideon pointed out becoming transfixed by the crime scene board in front of him as the other three men hopped back and forth bouncing ideas and explaining certain behaviors that the unsub displayed. “When did the bureau become involved with the case?” was Hotchner’s next question to which a nameless agent answered “After the fourth victim, he crossed state lines.” “He did it on purpose.” came Lily’s feminine voice standing out against the group of men she was with. “Knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record.” Reid backed up her point before walking away to observe another board. Lily’s mind began to race with information as she took in all the evidence hung up around her, she only tuned back in when Morgan spoke “An accurate profile by four o’clock today?” “Won’t be a problem.” was Gideon’s response before he pointed to a photo on a board by the door. “We start at the site of the last murder.” Lily made to walk out the door after Gideon but was halted in her path by Morgan and Reid. She knew she really wasn’t gonna get out of this so she sighed before grabbing both men by their wrists and pulling them into the empty corridor to the left of the bullpen. “Okay, your media liaison, Jennifer, she is my sister.” stating the obvious didn’t seem to cut it. “JJ never mentioned a sister.” Reid told their small group and Lily knew she wasn’t going to escape this without a deeper explanation. “JJ left for Georgetown at 18, I was only 12, she never called or came home for the holidays, I haven’t seen her since her high school graduation. She abandoned me!” Lily so desperately wanted to confide in anyone who wasn’t Gideon but she stopped herself by remembering that these men were strangers and that would be oversharing. “We don’t talk.” was all she mumbled, her voice getting smaller, she didn’t like talking about her sister who practically abandoned her the first chance she got. “Oh, and she doesn’t know I’m in the FBI... So that’s gonna be an interesting talk if I ever see her at Quantico.”

Pulling up to the crime scene was a surreal feeling for Lily. Sure she had seen all the photographs and case files and she had been to plenty of mockup ones for her assessments but her first real crime scene weighed on her and solidified one thought in her mind, this was where she was meant to be, she was gonna find this sick son of a bitch and save that girl. Gideon was calm and calculated walking around the dump site, like his mind was piecing together an exact replication of what probably happened here. “22 year old Anne Cushing was found right here” Morgan’s voice broke the concentration of the two and Lily looked away from the police taped grave to give the agent her full attention. “Her nails were clipped just like the others.” Lily let the information sit with her, “He wants them to fight back, but not enough to hurt him.” she adds. “And he left the belt around her neck.” Gideon reminded the two before looking around some more, “He was probably in his early 20s.” Mentor then turned to mentee “Lily go with Hotch and Reid to speak to Heather’s brother.” and with only a nod she began to trek back up towards ground level and hops into the waiting SUV next to Reid before it drives off. A sharp gaze burned into the side of her head as she stared out the window at the passing streets, she knew it was Hotchner watching her, he was analyzing her, trying to figure out why Gideon was so insistent on the girl joining the case, as if Lily hadn’t been asking herself that already. A polite nod was sent his way when she locked eyes with the serious man and that seemed to knock the staring off for the duration of the car ride. Maybe if she just stared him down too he might feel a little less intimidating, maybe. The door opened and Lily was immediately tackled by a large golden Labrador, sure she was a cat person but who doesn’t love dogs too. A scratch behind the ears was all it took for the dog to be pulled back into the house by the man we were here to see. After introductions were made inside the home the dog began to bark at Reid who looked mildly uncomfortable pulling a tiny smirk onto Lily’s face. “Sandy no!, I am so sorry.” came the apologies which were instantly shut down by Hotchner. “Oh no it’s ok, its what we call the Reid effect, it happens with children too.” Lily stifled a laugh at the jab at Reid, alright so mister serious was capable of humor, noted. Lily began to look around the room while the three men spoke and she was near silent in her observing until she spotted a magazine laid on top of a pile of papers on the table, “David does your sister drive a Datsun Z?” she asked facing the man in question. “No but she’s in the market for one, how did you know?” Lily didn’t answer but held the magazine up for the other agents to see. Hotchner approached her as Heather’s brother left the room with a now fussy Sandy and the trio huddled as Lily continued her theory. “There is an immediate relationship established between a buyer and seller, a level of trust, if I want to get a young woman into my car-” “you offer her a test drive.” Hotch finished the thought and nodded, a look of recognition in his eyes.

“Ok, so how about on one hand we have paranoid psychosis, but the autopsy says what?” Morgan questions pacing the empty bullpen asides from Lily, who was spinning her chair as they discussed the profile, and the rest of the team. “Adhesive residue shows he wrapped layers of duct tape around his victims eyes,” Reid added from his seat next to Lily. “He clearly wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes, he doesn’t want them looking at him. But then he takes the body and dumps them out in the open with the murder weapon nearby.” Lily tuned out Morgan as she began to piece together all of the parts in her mind, different theories and pieces of evidence ran through her brain as she shifted through the information, the noise in the room was drowned out as she finally connected the red strings in her mind. Bingo. She stood quickly enough to give her whiplash as she called out for Gideon who looked her in the eyes and nodded. “Hotch tell them we’re ready.” was all he said before he strode out of the room with Lily following close behind ignoring the protests from Morgan. The briefing room was dark as Gideon gave the profile, seemingly we had both come to the same conclusion about the profile and it wasn’t long before law enforcement and agents alike were exiting the room with his newfound information. Lily strode up to meet him at the top of the room and he spoke to her in hushed tones. “You passed your firearms evaluation yes?” he asked and with a nod from her he continued, “You’re going in, Hotch tells me an agent Greenaway is on her way, and its gonna take female agents to get his guard down.” SSA Elle Greenaway was the only agent who Lily knew apart from Gideon, she had met her during her academy training and knew she had a background in sex crimes, they got along so this shouldn’t be too difficult.

It was dark walking up the steps to the house listed as the suspects address and a quick background check of family history showed him to be the only male in the household. The rest was easy. Elle knocked on the door and when it opened to reveal an old lady with a nasal cannula and a woman with a baby girl in her arms Elle immediately launched into their pre-determined cover to lure Richard Slessman, the suspect, out of his home. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you this time of night but I’m housesitting with my sister and when we got back the door was open and the lights weren’t working.” Elle spoke with apprehension trying to play up the fear that someone might be in the house. Lily then piped up “We feel really stupid asking this but is there any chance there is someone who could take a look inside with us?” Their ruse clearly worked because the old lady immediately called out for Richard. Once the guy came downstairs Lily wanted to physically shudder under his gaze because he really wasn’t hiding his leering gaze, then again the more Lily thought of it obviously he would be creepy, he liked to murder girls for shits and giggles. Creeping into the empty house that they had gotten permission to use by the owners Lily walked just behind Richard keeping her hand trained on her concealed Glock 17 talking her cue from Elle she brought her gun out and nocked off the safety and as soon as the other SWAT members revealed themselves Lily immediately trained her pistol on Richard as Elle took him down in one swift movement arresting him. As soon as the handcuffs clicked into place around his wrists Lily replaced the safety and put her gun away as Elle passed their suspect off to another Swat member and turned to Lily with a proud smile, “You did great.” Lily beamed at her friend before she started nodding. “Does the whole gun thing always make your adrenaline skyrocket or is that just me?” she joked causing Elle to laugh and pull her into a hug.

“I know this is an extremely difficult time for you and your family Mrs Slessman but we appreciate your cooperation.” Lily finished up her interviews with the family and approached the others who were speaking in the hallway. “Family didn’t have a clue, apparently he has been acting out and generally being creepy since the death of his mother, they thought it was just hormones at first but clearly crazy doesn’t end with puberty.” Lily reported to the group of them following them through the house. Gideon spoke to Elle as Lily followed the others in examining the room, her attention brought back when Elle spoke. “Actually I want Hotch to lead the interview.” Gideon looked pensive for a minute before leaving the room. “Next time show a little leg,” Morgan joked at Elle causing both women to roll their eyes. “Wow, real classy there Derek.” Lily patted his shoulder before winking at Elle and climbing the stairs with the other two agents in tow.

Watching Gideon talk with this guy was unnerving, he was smart, but insanely creepy, not to mention the words coming out of his mouth were throwing Lily off, something was wrong, this guy wasn’t the unsub, or at least not alone. Lily walked out of the room and around to the side of the house, Gideon and Richard’s eyes following her as she left. She was soon followed by Gideon and Hotchner, who immediately noticed how agitated she was, her thoughts running 50 miles an hour. “What is it Lily,” Gideon asked keeping his eyes trained on the young woman who was pacing in the grass. “This feels wrong, he isn’t our murderer.” She spoke continuing her rhythmic pacing, it helped her think. “What woman would willingly get into a car with him, he’s unsettling, there is no way he could abduct over four women only using a car, a tacky car at that, when he comes across like that.” Gideon thought over what she was saying with a nod. “He said ‘Isn’t she the girl?’, if she were dead he would have said-” “wasn’t she?” Hotch chimed in. “She’s still alive but we don’t know for how long.” Lily finally ceased her pacing immediately drawing the attention of both men in front of her. “There’s an error in the profile, two different behaviors.” she looked at Hotch who finished her theory “Two different people, she’s right.”

Lily was left with Morgan at the house while the others went back to the field office. He was in the other room talking on the phone to their technical analyst about getting into Slessman’s laptop, but so far no dice. Walking into the bathroom Lily looks around before opening the medicine cabinet mirror revealing a pill bottle prescribed to Richard, sleeping tablets. “Hey Morgan,” she sang walking back into the bedroom where the man was standing and handing him the bottle “Seems Richie here has trouble sleeping.” Morgan takes the pill bottle from her hand before walking over to his bed, CD’s litter the room on every surface and Morgan gets the idea to try and shuffle through them. Not too long after that Reid shows up which puts a smile on Lily’s face, she is really beginning to enjoy the young doctor’s company. It really didn’t take long before Reid was asking for the hair pin holding Lily’s baby hairs back and he jimmied the disk drive open. “His password is ‘ENTER SANDMAN’.” The Doctor concludes holding up the worn Metallica cd. Grainy computer video feed popped up on the screen showing a very much still alive Heather Woodland. “Well great, now we just need to figure out where she is.”

The next few minutes was spent with the trio bouncing ideas while watching the screen for any sudden movements, but got nothing until Lily spotted something near nonexistent on the screen, seemingly so did Reid. “Wait pause, Reid did you see that?” she sputtered pointing at the light fixture in the video feed. “Yeah I did, Morgan pull up the last 12 frames side by side.” the genius asked pointing out how the light changed positions, the exact observation Lily had made. It took 3 seconds for the lightbulb to hit her. “Holy shit that’s it!” she yelled before grabbing her phone. The ringing of her mobile gave out to a swift “Talk to me.”

“Gideon they’re on a boat, probably a dock or a marina nearby, were gonna get Hotchner to find out which one, hang tight.” she said all in one breath before hanging up without an answer. “Excited much.” chuckled Morgan but she just nudged his side and let him call Hotchner with what they found. “That was a nice find Jareau.” Reid mumbled looking Lily in the eyes for the first time since the two had met. She found herself letting a tiny smile onto her lips at the compliment, “Thanks but you spotted it too, you’re good at this.” she paused “And please, it’s Lily, Jareau is my sister.” she joked pulling a small laugh out of the man next to her. It felt weird to talk about JJ to anyone who wasn’t her mom, since their dad had left them and gotten remarried. Morgan walked back in startling the two back into the present. “Did he get a hit?” she asked eagerly, she really wanted to get Heather back safely so she was getting antsy. “Yeah, they’re at a shipyard 10 miles from here, Gideon and Elle are almost there now.” The brief relief was extinguished when the video feed altered and their unsub was dragging Heather Woodland out of the cage. The next few minutes were tense and the trio only relaxed when Morgan’s phone rang.

“They got her.”

The plane ride back to Quantico was silent as the three youngest slept soundly, Morgan sleeping upright across from Reid who was napping stretched out on the longer sofa and Lily who was curled up in the seat across from Gideon, book still in hand. The mentor watched as she slept, he was incredibly proud of how she handled the case and even managed to greatly contribute like he had no doubt she would, and with time he knew she would be as good as anyone else on his team, if not better. “Hey.” It was Aaron Hotchner who softly broke Gideon out of his thoughts. “Did you and Hailey pick the babies name yet?” Aaron was a good friend of his and he was truly happy for them both. Hotch took a beat before answering, “You know its funny, Hailey liked the name Charles, but you know, all I could think was-” “Manson.” Gideon finished with a smirk.

“Then there was Henry-”

“Lee Lucas.”

“And Jefferey-”

“Dahmer.”

Hotch let a smile slip at their little game, “God, there’s just too many of them.” Gideon agreed before letting his eyes fall on the cover of the book still held in the sleeping girl’s grasp. “’The hunt for Red October’ by Tom Clancy.” Gideon mumbled, he was familiar with the books contents as Lily had spoken about it many times, the adventures of Jack Ryan had been introduced to her when she was thirteen years old and those books are what made her want to join the FBI. “What about Jack?”

A smile made its way onto the younger man’s face, Jack Hotchner didn’t sound so bad. He let his eyes rake over the youngest of their troop thinking back on the last few hours. “She is good Gideon. she will make a great agent.” Jason Gideon looked back at the sleeping girl once more, a fond look crossing his face.

“She will be one of our greatest, she just has a little more growing to do.”

By cool Siloam's shady rill. How sweet the Lily grows! - Reginald Heber

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════

That’s the prologue to this wild ride and I hope you like it!

My taglist is open just message me or comment.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #criminal minds

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ayellowbirds · 4 years

Text

33 Usher Street chapter one script, First Draft

I’m planning to go back and do a major revision on this, but i wanted to share what i have for the time being! This was part of last years NaNoWriMo project, about Jewish (and otherwise) vampire hunters in an alternate history 1920s, including a transgender golem and an intersex dhampir as the joint protagonists.

What follows is an unfinished draft of a comic script intended for my own reference as the artist. Some art directions are absent, intended to be filled in later; or reflected a lack of a particular concern about how the panel looked.

Questions and comments are welcome! I’d love to get some other folks’ ideas about what needs changing. Please excuse any formatting issues! This didn’t copy-paste so well.

Italics outside of quotation marks indicate art directions and page layout.

[Square brackets] indicate sound effects (SFX), signage, captions, or other non-bubbled matters of lettering.

“Quotation marks” indicate speech bubbles.

1. Three panel page.

1.1. Full-width view of a bus (reference 1920s buses) puttering along beneath and above autumn leaves.

[CAPTION: September 24, 1923]

1.2. A thick black full-width border. Repeated on the following pages at full-width size, same height, to be indicated as BORDER

[BORDER: SFX: Bus engine chugging]

1.3. Interior of bus. Driver, assorted passengers, and towards the rear, SOLOMON “SOL” SZOMBATHY. He is a slight young man in a jacket and oversized “Oxford bags”,. His hair is thick, black, and curly (3B type); his features Ashkenazic but on the darker side. He holds a plain-looking wooden cane. Behind him, occupying the last row of seats, is a long, coffin-like box or chest, sealed with rope or cord.

2. Six panels.

2.1. A close-up of Solomon. He seems lost in thought, leaning against the bus window.

2.2. [BORDER: SFX: THUMP!]

2.3. The bus bumps, Sol is jolted upwards.

2.4. Sol settles, squeans emanating.

2.5 Sol looks out the window.

2.6 Exterior, the wooded roadside. A sign reads: [WELCOME TO Jackson, Mass. EST. 1842]. Perhaps the bus is visible here, chugging past the sign.

3. Six panels.

3.1. The bus stop. Perhaps a sign indicating that’s what it is. The bus has stopped.

Driver: “JaaaAAACKson station!”

3.2. A tail extends from the speech bubble from the previous panel, to overlay the BORDER. Driver: “Last stop!”

3.3. Passengers exiting the bus. Sol is lifting the box.

3.4. Same as 3.3, with more movement ahead of Sol. He is pulling the box, struggling.

3.5. Same as 3.3, the bus now empty of other passengers. The driver is standing, impatiently watching Sol. Sol is half-way down the aisle, perspiring with effort.

3.6. Same as 3.3, Sol finally exiting the bus, with his box.

Driver: “That everything?”

4. Two panels

4.1. Sol, wiping sweat with a kerchief.

SOL: “Yes, thank you. And—”

4.2. As in 3.2, a tail extends from the previous bubble into the BORDER, which fades from black to white.

SOL, stylized as the chapter title : “Can You Tell Me The Way To Usher Street?”

[Credits:

A 33 Usher Street story

Written and Illustrated by K.P.S. Roman Religious Consultation by Quell Nessuno]

5. Six panels. Wide, double, double, border.

5.1. Sol, walking along a Jackson street, dragging the box behind him on wheels and hoisting his cane over his shoulder. The city is sparsely populated in spite of its size; apartment buildings and businesses line the streets, but there are few people visible. The buildings have the sagging, unsettled look of those built on swampland.

5.2. More of Sol, rounding a corner and excusing himself past some locals, including ADRIAEN TEN BOOM, a stogie between his lips.

Sol: “Pardon me!”

5.3. Sol, looking up at a street sign for the corner of [MARSH ST] and [WASHINGTON ST]. A car putters past. WILHEMINA FAWKES is in the driver’s seat.

5.4. Sol continues past some kids playing marbles. He’s starting to visibly sweat. An older black man [ALEISTER JONES] watches the game from a stoop, his gloved hand resting on his cheek.

5.5. Sol, stopping at another corner. A conspicuously incognito figure [CONSTANCE WRIGHT] watches from behind a newspaper. A sledgehammer leans against her side.

Sol: “Ah!”

5.6. BORDER, Sol’s speech bubble extends from 5.5.

Sol: “Here we are!”

6.1. The sign for the corner of [WASHINGTON ST] and [USHER ST]

6.2. Sol moves a bit more speedily down the street, indicated by hites. PLUTON, a large black cat with only one eye watches.

6.3. Sol, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, exhaling a panting puff. Pluton is visible following behind at a distance.

Sol: “Let’s see…”

6.4. Sol looks up at the numbers of the buildings. He passes the unremarkable numbers twenty-one and twenty-three. Pluton cocks his head.

6.5. BORDER. Sol’s speech bubble tails from 6.3.

Sol: “Number... Thirty-Three?”

6.6. Sol stops before a row of thorny bushes. The speech bubble trails from 6.5. Pluton is posed as if looking around the tail of the speech bubble, to see Sol.

Sol: “Oh!”

7.1. Sol, standing before 33 Usher Street. The building is assembled from a mix of newer construction and old ruins with the masonry at diagonals to each other, as if someone happened upon the leaning remains of a graystone castle and chose to join it together in red brick. The 33 is quite large and visible on the exterior of the building, and a less-legible sign hangs beneath it.

7.2: BORDER, a caption (Sol): “There it is.”

8.1. A close-up of the sign beneath the 33 from 7.1. It now more clearly reads: [USHER STREET HOUSE OF ANTIQUITIES AND CURIOS]

8.2. BORDER. A speech bubble trails down to 8.3.

Sol: “That wasn’t... so hard to find... after all.”

8.3. Sol walks up the path, while Pluton, indicated by tracing lines, bounds up into the building out of Sol’s view and onto a windowsill. He has set down the box.

9.1. Pluton, pausing at an open window, looks out imperiously at the approaching Sol.

9.2. Interior of the room from 9.1. A view from the back of JAMES “JIM” CULLOCK III. The room is full of talismans, wards, and assorted scraps of paper framed upon the walls.

Jim: “Yes, that would be him.”

9.3. A hand [that of MARIE BOSLEY] sets a Victrola to play.

Marie: “I’ll leave the interview to you, then.”

9.4. A partial view. Pluton bounds down into the room. Enough of Marie is visible that she can be seen cranking the Victrola. Jim appears to be fussing at something invisible on his sleeve.

Jim: “If you’re certain.”

9.5. [BORDER: SFX: the opening lyrics of Marion Harris’s “After You’re Gone”]

9.6. Jim’s feet descending the stairs.

10.

10.1. Deliberate parallel to 9.6. Sol coming up to the front door. The lyrics of the music continue from 9.5, and there on until otherwise indicated.

10.2. Sol’s hand raised, to the door, there is a simple bronze door knocker.

10.3. [BORDER: SFX: KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.]

10.4. Sol waits at the door.

10.5. Same framing as 10.4; Sol looks back at the box.

10.6. Sol looks back at the door, anxious, patting his head with his kerchief.

11.

11.1. The door swings open. Inside stands Jim. A tall, older white man with the slender yet solid look of a longtime dancer or a runner, clad in two parts of a mismatched three-piece suit: striped trousers under a diamond-patterned vest, with bow tie. His hair is close-cropped, styled fashionably, and streaked with gray.

Jim: “Good afternoon...”

11.2. BORDER. A trailing tail from Jim’s line in 11.1.

Jim: “...young man.”

11.3. Sol holds out a crumpled envelope.

Sol: “The Rev. Dr. Hammer sent me, sir?”

11.4. Jim takes the letter in his left hand.

11.5. Jim looks at the letter.

11.6. Jim tosses the letter over his shoulder, smiling.

Jim: “James Cullock III, son.”

12.

12.1. Jim, extending his right hand to shake.

Jim: “But, call me Jim.”

12.2. Sol, returning the handshake.

Sol: “Sir, my name’s Solomon.”

12.3. BORDER.

Jim: “Mr. Grundy, then?”

12.4. Sol looks tired of this joke already.

Sol: “No, sir. I was born on a Saturday.”

12.5. Jim laughs

Jim: “You’re the right one, alright!”

12.6. Jim motions Solomon in.

Jim: “Come in, Mr. Szombathy, and have a seat.”

13. Three panels, the top full-width but narrow, as is the border: the main action is 13.2.

13.1. The foyer of 33 Usher St. The room is set up for greeting visitors and entertaining, and Sol is already seated opposite Jim.

13.2. Full view of Solomon, seated and without his coat. He is wearing a tight-fitting sweater, giving him the silhouette of a paintbrush when paired with his trousers.

NOTE: Use the antiquated “Rumania” spelling whenever it appears on the page.

[CAPTION: Solomon “Sol” Szombathy Age: 20

Born: 10/31/1903

Hometown: Pittsburgh, Vandalia

Background: Hungarian/Rumanian Jewish, First Generation American

Likes: Science Fiction & Fantasy Magazines, spicy foods, cooking.

Dislikes: Running, swimming, high noon.]

13.3. BORDER.

Jim: “So, Solomon Szombathy. I understand from my old friend Matteus—he wired me here before you arrived—that you have had quite a remarkable encounter, of late.”

14. Reversal of 13.

14.1. BORDER.

Sol: “Just so, sir. I am told it is within your area of expertise?”

14.2. Full view of James, seated and with his legs crossed.

[CAPTION: James “Jim” Cullock III

Age: 56

Born: 2/18/1867

Hometown: Roan Mountain, Nickajack.

Background: Scottish-American

Hobbies: Gardening, Morning Constitutionals

Profession: Antiques, Estate Management, ???]

Jim: “By which you mean…”

14.3. Pluton enters the room.

Pluton: “Miaou.”

15.

15.1. Sol watches as Pluton approaches.

Sol: “Vampires, sir. A vampire. Just the one.”

15.2. Pluton inspects Sol, who is now focused on Jim.

Jim: “You have no need to worry about being doubted on that subject here, Mr. Szombathy.”

15.3. BORDER.

Sol: “Ah, yes. Dr. Hammer told me that you are in the business of…?”

15.4.

Jim: “Formally, the Usher Street House of Antiques and Curios is in the business of the management of estates belonging to those who passed without clearly defined wills, or without leaving behind heirs to manage their estates.”

15.5. Pluton approaches Jim.

Jim: “Informally, better say genuinely, we are in the business of public health. To deal with the threat of vampires to the general public.”

16.

16.1. Pluton settles down at Jim’s feet.

Jim: “Tell me, what are your opinions on the morality and ethics of vampirism?”

16.2

Sol: “Well, in my father’s collection, there was a commentary on the Sefer Hasidim, which says that a person who must consume the blood of another human being… should be pitied, for it is in her nature and her needs to survive, and if she should make recompense to her victim, should be treated with compassion as a member of the community.”

16.3 BORDER

Sol: “But that’s regarding a living vampire, what some call an estrie, and the exceptions made for one who must violate kashrus for the sake of pikuach nefesh. And Eleazar Rokeach said that one should stop up the mouth of a deceased estrie, to prevent her from feasting on the living, after death.”

16.4

Sol: “From a strictly Halakhic standing, it is permissible for the living to eat as they must to remain living, but the deceased are deceased, and are forbidden to do so.”

16.5

Sol: “So, I think that, ultimately, it depends on the circumstances, case by case. It requires careful but decisive investigation.”

16.6. Jim, close-up, a scrutinizing gaze.

Jim: “But Mr. Szombathy, you are not solely the books you read.”

17.

17.1. BORDER.

Jim: “What was your experience with a vampire? How do you feel about the morals and ethics?”

17.2.

Sol: “I… my family lived in Pittsburgh, you see. Since I was born.”

17.3.

Sol: “My mother had been pregnant, just newly so, when they came here, from the old country.”

Jim: “Which…?”

Sol: “Transyvlania. In Rumania.”

17.4. Sol is in silhouette in the foreground. We see KÁLMAN SZOMBATHY, a Hungarian Jewish man nearing middle age.

Sol: “My father—he was always very learned. In many ways. And he had acquaintances, friends, contacts? Who knew….”

17.5. Sol, younger, looking out the window at his father, who is outside with a candle in hand at night.

Sol: “Strange things. Secrets. Mysticism.”

17.6. Sol, a bit older, looking at his father examining a book. A diagram of the sefirot is visible—ish-style, or yosher?

Sol: “I saw so much of it, growing up. I didn’t think it was strange.”

18.

18.1. Sol, almost his present age, sitting by the window with a book, while his father talks with some baalei shem.

Sol: “Just… another thing we didn’t talk about with go—gentiles.”

Jim: “Like this… golem?”

18.2. The golem, standing with toddler Sol. It looks more lumpy and vaguely defined than when we see it later.

Sol: “Yes. It was around before I was born. Like a caretaker or guardian. A nanny.”

18.3. Sol sitting, reading a book aloud. His narration is not bubbled, but bleeds into the scenery.

Sol: “I would talk to it. Just… talk to it. My parents, my father only told it what to do.”

18.4. Sol looking up at the golem.

Sol: “And you may think it silly, sir, but sometimes, I thought that it spoke back.”

18.5. The golem looking down at Sol.

Jim: “Golems are said to be mute, are they not?”

18.6.

Sol: “So I am told.”

19.

19.1. A bedridden person.

Sol: “This summer, people started taking ill. A doctor came to visit, every one. But people just got worse. Wasting away.”

19.2. A doctor at the door, tipping his hat. He looks flushed, and has a distant expression.

Sol: “My parents had boarders. Renting rooms. And the doctor, the physician, came to call on one.”

19.3. Kálman stopping the golem, which seems determined to approach the “doctor” and has an upset expression.

Sol: “The golem kept… my parents said it was menacing him.”

19.4. Sol’s mother, DOINA URS-SZOMBATHY, shooing the golem from a door. Doina is about the same age as Kálman, with darker features.

Sol: “And it happened, the same day, that the Reverend Doctor Hammer was visiting. Resting, from traveling. He knew my father, somehow. The golem had been bothering him, too. Trying to push him around.”

Jim: “Hm.”

19.5. Sol, looking down.

Sol: “Which I guess is why he didn’t notice the physician was actually undead.”

19.6. Sol’s parents, reclining on a couch, resting their heads against one another. The shadow of the vampire looms over them.

Sol: “Which was why my parents thought it safe to rest, as well.”

20.

20.1.

Sol: “My parents—they were in the other room, you see. They had left the golem with me. Because it kept bothering everyone. Getting in the way.”

20.2.

Sol: “I guess the vampire got greedy, though. It came into my room. I was reading.”

20.3. The vampire reaching for Sol, who looks shocked. It is an upiór type, with a sharp, barbed tongue instead of fangs.

Sol: “I only realized what it was, up close. Too late for my parents.”

20.4. The golem’s clay fist swings at the vampire, sending it sprawling.

Sol: “But not too late for me.”

20.5. The vampire is sent flying across the room, slamming into the wall.

20.6. The Rev. Dr. MATTEUS HAMMER, a wild-eyed trans man of mixed Scandanavian and indigenous heritage, with a shock of white hair, in his pajamas and brandishing a sword and pistol.

Sol: “The fight woke up Dr. Hammer.”

21.

21.1. Splash of Hammer shooting the vampire in the heart.

[CAPTION: THE REVEREND DOCTOR MATTEUS J. HAMMER

Age: Like, So Old

Born: A Man, In Spite Of What The Nurse Said Hometown: Tarrytown, NY

Background: Finnish/Swedish-American and Lenape, He’s Pretty Sure Fears: God And Nawt Else, Also Centipedes

Enjoys: Fresh-Baked Bread]

21.2. The golem stands between Hammer and Sol, protecting Sol.

22.

22.1. Hammer looking over Sol.

Sol: “The Reverend Doctor, he checked me over. Asked me a lot of questions about what happened. About me.”

22.2.

Sol: “Checked everyone else, too. Everyone who... survived.”

22.3.

Sol: “And he told me… all things considered, I should come here.”

22.4. Jim, pensive.

Jim: “To report on your experiences? I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, your loss, but….”

22.5. Sol, surprised.

Sol: “No, sir. He sent me here for me to seek employment.”

22.6. BORDER.

Sol: “As stated in the letter you dropped upon the ground.”

23.

23.1. Jim, flushed, looks at the envelope.

23.2. Jim, bends over to pick up the letter.

23.3. He dusts it off.

23.4. He opens the envelope.

23.5. He begins to read.

23.6. BORDER Hammer: “Dear Jim. Give the lad a job. Do something about the golem. Remember: that matter in Chattanooga. Or I will tell Marie. Sinc. The Rev. Dr. Matteus J. Hammer.”

24.

24.1.

Jim: “Well, then I suppose that this is an employment interview, although....”

24.2. Jim sighs through his nose.

24.3. BORDER.

Jim: “Chattanooga, eh?”

24.4. Jim: “In that case, we had best find the best place for you.”

24.5.

Jim: “Let me explain a bit more about what we do here.”

24.6.

Jim: “Through a number of agents, contacts, and former customers, we are apprised of events that may require our attention. Our more ordinary business provides both cover and funding for this.”

25.

25.1. Jim, facing Sol, sidelong view.

Jim: “We employ both in-office experts, and traveling agents who visit locations where vampirism is believed to be at play.”

25.2. Sol, headlong view.

Jim: “What qualifies you to act in the field, rather than from behind a desk?”

25.3. BORDER. Sol’s speech trails to .4.

Sol: “Well, sir, as a dhampir,”

25.4. Jim, headlong view. Two ghosts are visible, framing him: RODERICK and MADELINE USHER. They are the spirits of two young WASPs nearly identical in appearance, with large eyes, wild fine hair, and aquiline noses, clad in shrouds.

Sol: “I can see the dead.”

26.1. Roderick and Madeline notice Sol is looking at them.

Jim: “...”

26.2. Roderick waves coyly at Sol. Madeline seems disinterested.

Jim: “You would be far from the first to claim that you are able to see the unseen. Do you have any proof?”

26.3.

Sol: “Outside of the word of Dr. Hammer…?”

Jim: “If you please.”

26.4. Jim, an eyebrow cocked.

Sol: “I don’t suppose you know that you have twin siblings hovering in the air around your study?”

26.5. Jim looks up at Roderick.

26.6. Jim looks up at Madeline.

27.1.

Jim: “You will, I trust, forgive my skepticism. Even in this trade, there is always room for incredulity.”

27.2. Jim lets out a puff of a sigh.

27.3.

Jim: “I myself have found that what one sees is not always what is.”

27.4. A view of Sol, from Jim’s perspective. Sol and the room are crawling with transparent insects of imaginative and unnatural anatomy. Take care to note that they are only visible on surfaces of a solid, continuous color.

27.5. BORDER.

Sol: “Do you find that very often?”

27.6. Jim, looking weary, dusts one ‘bug’ off the table.

Jim: “For many a year.”

28.

28.1.

Jim: “But, here, you said that you were a dhampir! How comes that to happen?”

28.2. Sol, obviously embarrassed.

Sol: “In the usual manner, sir.”

28.3. BORDER.

Jim: “Which is to say, one of your parents—your birth parents—was a vampire?”

28.4.

Sol: “My mother’s first husband. After his death. My father, I suppose, my stepfather, was his brother.”

28.5.

Jim: “My condolences.”

28.6. Sol, holding the cane tightly.

Sol: “I don’t think of it much. It wasn't his fault.”

29.

29.1. Jim stands up abruptly.

Jim: “Quite! Not his fault. Not his fault. The majority of vampires—people want someone to blame, you know?”

29.2. Jim begins to walk out the door, motioning ‘come here’ to Sol. Pluton perks up.

Jim: “But a vampire—follow after, won’t you?—is not really a someone. It’s a something.”

29.3. Jim walks outside towards the box, Sol and Pluton following.

Jim: “Are you familiar with the association of vampirism with cases of tubercular consumption in Connecticut?”

29.4. Jim has reached the box and is inspecting it, leaning over it.

Sol: “That there was some similarity, but that the word ‘vampire’ was not used?”

29.5. Jim circles the box.

Jim: “Well, the papers used it—here, how do we open this—though the locals did not.”

29.6. BORDER.

Sol: “Open it, sir?”

30.

30.1. Jim, gesturing at the box.

Jim: “This is the golem in here, is it not?”

30.2. Sol, hesitant. In the background, RANDOLPH CARTER appears in the doorway, startled. Reference HP Lovecraft, naturally.

Sol: “Yes, but—” 30.3. Carter rushes up, waving the letter from Hammer in his hand.

Randolph: “Mister Cullock! James! I can see what you mean to do and—this is folly of unfathomably cyclopean proportions!”

30.4. BORDER.

Randolph: “The letter from Matteus Hammer is entirely explicit in its brevity, this container is as an inscrutable Hebraic box of Pandora!”

30.5. Jim, gesturing bemusedly to Randolph.

Jim: “Ah, Mr. Szombathy. Allow me to introduce our Rare Books Expert, Mr. Randolph Carter.”

31.

31.1. Carter looks down at Sol.

[CAPTION: RANDOLPH CARTER Age: Younger than he looks, really.

Born: 8/20/1874

Hometown: Some Nameless New England Town

Expertise: Ancient Tomes, Forgotten Lore, Adjectives

Hangups: Xenophobia, Icthyophobia, Anglophilia]

31.2. Carter nods at Sol in greeting, ignoring Sol’s offered handshake.

Randolph: “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Szombathy.”

31.3. Carter whips his head around (speed lines!) back to Jim.

Randolph: “I really must protest, James!”

31.4. BORDER Randolph: “The golem acted without instruction, in a violent and destructive manner according to its inhuman whims!”

31.5. BORDER, again. The text is less contained within the bubble.

Randolph: “It is a lifeless husk animated by eldritch secrets, which has demonstrated a readiness to cause harm!”

31.6. BORDER, once more. The text is almost overtaking the space, no longer contained in a bubble.

Randolph: “It is every bit the arcane monstrosity that we are employed to eliminate, an idiot half-form!”

32. The thickest BORDER panel so far, over a three panel of one full width over two half-widths.

32.1. BORDER. A single, solid, centered speech bubble, trailing down.

Jim: “Enough.”

32.2. Jim, over the box, holding a pair of gardening shears to the ropes binding it.

32.3. The severed ropes falling, in view of Sol.

Jim: “Mr. Szombathy; I should like to employ you. But after hearing your story, I suspect that you are but one part of what the stores would call a ‘package deal’.”

32.4. Jim opening the box, viewed from as if within.

Jim: “Would you mind if I were to awaken it?”

33.

33.1. Sol, looking resolute, with Carter looking horrified behind.

33.2. Repeat of 33.1, but with Sol nodding, Carter faint with terror.

Sol: “Please do, Mr. Cullock.”

33.3. A full view from above of the golem in the box. It is squared and inanimate, eyes shut and form even more vague than in the flashback. Pluton bounds into panel.

33.4. BORDER, more gray than black, now.

Jim: “Please, call me Jim.”

34.

34.1. Jim reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strip of paper. Pluton appears in the corner.

Jim: “Matteus had sent this ahead, as well.”

34.2. He holds it up for Sol and Carter to see. An א is visible, but the rest is concealed by the curl of the paper.

Jim: “I take it this is the ‘sacred words under the tongue’ type of golem, rather than the ‘אמת’ variety?”

34.3. Sol, confused.

Sol: “Yes, s—Jim.”

34.4. Jim, looking contemplative and holding the strip absently.

Jim: “I wonder. Was the golem silent for fear of spitting out the paper?”

Sol: “Eh?” 34.5. BORDER. Still gray.

Jim: “I would keep mum, myself, if my continued animation depended upon something held under my tongue.”

34.6. Jim’s hand pressing a tiny hole into the clay. Pluton is looking over the edge of the box.

Jim: “Just like planting a seed, hm?”

35.

35.1. Jim’s hand swipes over the hole, sealing it by pushing clay back over.

Jim: “There, now—”

35.2. BORDER, but with the image of ‘eyes opening’, slightly, in white.

35.3. BORDER as 35.2, but wider. Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter coming into view.

35.4. BORDER as 35.3, wider. Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter in full view.

35.5. Same panel width as 35.2-4, but a full, unshaded panel of Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter.

36.

36.1. The golem sits up, form still vague, androgynous. Carter shocks, Jim smiles, Sol looks nervous, Pluton is deadpan and does not move from looking over the edge of the box.

Jim: “How is that?”

36.2. The golem looks at Jim. Everyone’s expressions are the same as 36.1.

Jim: “Can you try speaking, now?”

36.3. The golem, closeup, mouth open slightly.

36.4. Same as 36.3.

Golem: “C’n try… speaking.”

36.5. Now Sol is shocked, too.

36.6. Same as 36.5.

Sol: “He can talk?”

37.

37.1. The golem, frowning.

Golem: “...can.”

37.2. Sol and Carter, even more shocked.

Randolph: “M-mimicry?”

37.3. The golem gives a headshake.

Golem: “Nuh-uh.”

37.4. The golem’s gaze shifts in the direction of Sol.

Golem: “Why… c-call me….”

37.5. The golem, looking down.

Golem: “He?”

37.6. Sol looks as though he has realized; unlit lightbulb? Carter is fizzling smoke from his noggin.

38.

38.1. Repeat of 37.6. More smoke from Carter, lit lightbulb on Sol.

Sol: “You’re a girl!”

38.2. The golem nods.

38.3.

Sol: “I’m so sorry, I never realized—you looked like a boy, so?”

38.4. The golem, puzzled.

Golem: “...looked?”

38.5. The golem starts to push out of the box.

Sol: “Of course, I should know, appearances and all, but—”

39.

39.1. The golem starts to rise from the box, form changed towards a more definite shape.

39.2. Continuing from 39.1, more and more defined, more and more upright.

39.3. Fully upright, fully defined as feminine. Dotty as per concept art.

39.4. The golem, in full view, looking down at herself while Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter are gathered around.

Golem: “Be...tter?”

40. Four quarter-width panels, one full, two half-width.

40.1. Jim, smiling.

Jim: “Quite so.”

40.2. Sol, beaming.

Sol: “Amazing!”

40.3. Pluton, feline.

Pluton: “Miau.”

40.4. Carter, stunned.

Randolph: “Transmogrification!?”

40.5. The golem, smiling.

40.6. Jim, Sol, Pluton, Carter.

Jim: “And how should we call you, Miss…”

40.7. The golem, thinking.

Golem: “D…”

41.

41.1. The golem, DOROTHEEA “DOTTY” SZOMBATHY, smiling, her speech bubble forming the CAPTION:

[Dorotheea Szombathy But you c’n call me Dotty!

Age: I dunno, like eight’r nine months older’n Sol?

Birthdate: I guess February of 1903? It was Tu B’shvat, I think.

I love helpin’ Sol, and all kinds of toys and games! My clay came from Horezu, but I was born in Bran! That’s in Transylvania, you know? The one in Rumania, not Usonia]

41.2. A view from behind Dotty as she continues talking. Jim and Sol look dumbfounded, Carter is letting out smoke from both ears and his eyes have rolled all the way back in his head.

Dotty: “I was asleep on the boat to Usonia, but someday I wanna try riding it while I’m awake….”

Jim: “Oh, she certainly can talk.”

Sol: “יא”

42. END page of “Can You Tell Me The Way To Usher St?”

42.1. CAPTION:

[סוף.]

42.2. A bubble of Dotty.

Dotty: “Say, c’n I wear clothes now?”

#33 usher street #my writing

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emeraldtawny · 5 years

Note

Ikevamp Suitors reacting to MC falling asleep witht their pets??

s….so……so soff ;w; This became longer than I thought so it’s going under a cut and on my masterlist because I quite like how these turned out griknerdht

Napoleon: He’s fallen asleep outside in the gazebo. Even Jupiter’s screech doesn’t wake him up, the eagle swooping down and perching himself gallantly next to his master. His beady eyes are trained on Napoleon but he doesn’t stir and the eagle preens its wing feathers before getting a more comfortable grip on the back of the bench. Until he wakes up, Jupiter is his loyal guard, making sure his sleep goes undisturbed.

Mozart: On a rare night that Schelm is perched outside the music room just listening to the soft piano, his head cocks when he realises that it stopped. Gliding down to the floor, he hops across the marble floor, his talons clicking loudly against the surface. But Mozart is responseless, his head laying on his arm atop the piano. With a soft hoo, Schelm jumps up onto the piano bench and puffs out his feathers before nestling comfortably next to his owner.

Leonardo: Lumiere’s golden-brown eyes have been glued on Leonardo all evening as he fiddles with the fifth new contraption this week. With a languid stretch, he leaps from the bed and makes a point of slinking through his hands, purring all the while. He grumbles but can’t find it in himself to move the cat off him, which of course gives the cat the thought to immediately settle himself between his crossed legs for a lazy catnap. With a huff, Leonardo puts his contraption down and scratches the cat’s ear, letting his own eyes drift shut to join his feline companion in sleep.

Arthur: After a nice long walk by the river, He had hoped this would be enough to tire out his little pup. Unfortunately, it only seemed to tire him out, especially considering he was up all through the night before writing up a storm. Vic makes a questioning little “awoo?”, to which Arthur just laughs at and unclips his leash before he makes his way to his couch and immediately just collapses onto. Vic sets his front paws on the couch and licks Arthur’s face, his only response being a tired grumble. Jumping up onto the couch, the pup makes himself comfortable on Arthur’s stomach, his owner’s hand subconsciously moving in his sleep to stroke the pup’s fur.

Vincent: His endeavour to find painting inspiration in the clouds turned into a lazy midday nap…a nap he is abruptly woken up from by some paws imparting all of their weight onto his stomach. As he blinks hazily, he recognises the chittering of his little raccoon. “Hello, Brush. Would you care to join me? It’s a…lovely day…to…”. Brush paws at his face as if disappointed by his owner. He still cuddles up into a ball next to Vincent, scratching at his tail before letting out a little yawn himself.

Theo: He’ll be making his way back to his room when he hears whimpering. With a rough sigh, he opens the door and is met with big puppy dog eyes from…a puppy dog. “What are you doing, King? You’re never this needy.”. With a happy wag of his tail, King paws his front paws at Theo’s leg and scampers over to the bed. With a raised eyebrow, Theo wonders if King knows he hasn’t been getting much sleep lately…no, surely not. Even so, he can’t deny he wants to lie down, and King joins him, both owner and pet falling asleep side by side join on their backs and both grumbling in their sleep.

Dazai: The inspiration is slow today. As he stares at his empty parchment, he suddenly hears a soft coo from behind him. Before he can turn around, he feels little talons and soft feathers wiggling in his hair as his little java finch Bunta nests itself in his head as it so often does. He speaks out loud to Bunta to try clear his thoughts, but all he hears in reply is soft snoring coos. He sits up straight in his chair and closes his eyes, determined to keep his head level so as not to disrupt his feathered friend’s nap.

Isaac: He’s so lost in his work that he doesn’t notice little Harry scuttling around him. Nor does he see him crawling up the couch and crawling onto his lap, the little prickly ball quite happy as he closes his eyes. When he reemerges to reality, he hears a little squeak and he almost squeaks himself when he looks down and sees the little hedgehog in his lap. He….he can’t move him, even if he really needs to. He tries to focus on his work again and Harry’s little snoring noises keep distracting him…and making him…kinda sleepy too. Maybe just a little nap…

Jean: After a tough training session coupled with not getting enough blood, Jean enters his room and shuts the door behind him, sliding down to the floor with his back to the door. A small rawr draws his eye up, his little tiger cub padding up to him with her head cocked. He sighs and reaches out to lightly pet her head, to which she reaches up to paw his hand. She ends up tumbling into his lap and that gets him to laugh, even if it was a small exhale of breath through his nose. Cherie gives a big yawn and snuggles down further into his lap, Jean resigned to stroking her back as he stares at the ceiling, hardly aware of his eye closing and drifting off to sleep as well.

Shakespeare: It’s a lonely night tonight. And Puck seems to sense it, his nose twitching as he looks over at his owner staring down at his unfinished manuscript. With a little hop from across the table, he rests his fluffy chin atop his hand as if to say “no more work tonight”. Shakes smile at his little companion, giving him a cursory scratch to his head before resting his head on the table to better watch his rabbit. Both end up falling asleep amidst their staring contest, Puck’s head still snuggled sweetly on top of Will’s hand.

Comte: Sitting in his chair reading a book, he can’t fully focus on it with the soft scratching and rustling filling his room. WIth a chagrined smile, he sets the book down and finds his little white ferret chasing its tail around in circles excitedly. “Are you having fun there, Thyme?”. The ferret looks up and blinks before scampering up and circling around one of Comte’s legs. He reaches down to pick Thyme up, the white noodle squirming a little bit before he relaxes against his owner’s arms, his own little legs hanging languidly from his makeshift hammock. Content, Comte sits back down in his chair and letting his eyes drift shut watching Thyme’s cute little nose twitches.

Sebastian: It’s Rotte’s wool inspection day; need to make sure she’s nice and clean. So, of course, she’s rolling happily in the grass without a care. Sebas sighs as she gives a happy maaa and she rolls onto her feet and skips over. He sits down only to be almost bowled over onto his back as Rotte lies down as a sheep loaf and rests her head in his lap. He pats her head, resigning himself to clean her wool another day. All of the rushing around from the last couple of weeks catches up to him and Rotte’s warm head is his lap isn’t helping. “I’m sure MC can handle an hour or two without me…” “maa!”.

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