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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

the lighthouse | jjk

⇢ pairing: reader x jungkook

⇢ genre: one shot, fluff (what's new), strangers to "lovers", mutual pining, so much sap you're gonna have to shower after reading this, ANGST, jungkook is a literary scholar (?) of sorts

⇢ word count: 12k

⇢ warnings: as stated before, it's Cheesy with a capital C, lots of introspection, brief mentions of death, explicit language, mommy issues, (((major plot twist)))

⇢ summary: you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled. was this going to be another disappointing chapter in the book of unattainable desires or could your encounter with the mysterious man who lived in the lighthouse lead to something much more?

a/n: i'm super proud of how this turned out even though it ripped my heart out of my chest... this was probably my favorite fic to write and ahh im so happy to release it!!!! i hope you lovely little angels enjoy!! :) <3

What makes us human? This question posed by your philosophy teacher had been stalking your thoughts hours after class had ended. As the rain padded against your umbrella, you piled in a few answers to this question.

What makes us human? A question that would seemingly have a clear cut answer, but when you got down to it, there was no distinct characteristic that differentiates humans from other animals. It was easy to say something such as how we have complex linguistics or industrialized civilization, but that is to discredit how the packs of wolves howl to each other, the birds sing from tree to tree, the beavers diligently construct their dams, or the dirt cities in which ants build their own societies not much different than humans.

You pondered the idea that we love so deeply, even when it is often unreturned, but there is no denying the way a mother bear strikes down any and all enemies to protect her baby cub is anything other than true love.

So, what makes us human? You sat on a bench placed on the sidelines where you could witness small scenes of the lives of passing strangers. This sonder might be what makes us human. The knowledge that each person lives and loves and cries and fears and speaks and dies in ways with which you will never begin to familiarize. Life continues on around you despite how unimportant it may seem to the rest.

Does a lion waste any moment of his time wondering how the deer had found its way to the shallow pond, whilst preparing to strike? Of course not.

You watched a couple clinging onto each other and wondered where they met. You then were captured in the peace of an old woman prodding around in the grass with her golden retriever; perhaps it was her last companion. Then, your eyes drifted towards the two boys pushing each other over but with the gentleness one could only assume that was out of friendship or perhaps brotherhood.

And then you saw him.

Gentle fingers tracing the stacks of magazines lined in a perfect column; an arm that disappeared into the sleeve of his dark, wool coat. A tweed newsboy hat sheltering his eyes, and deep chestnut Oxford shoes stepping lightly, nearing a tiptoe, between the cracks of each cement plate, weathered by the infinite other shoes that tread on those very grounds. A body so magnetizing and moving as if it were a secret, and you couldn’t imagine why no one else had been ingested by the enigma that is this man. You longed for him to reveal these secrets that hid underneath his hat and coat, though if he wouldn’t, which he most likely wouldn’t, you had no problem with seeking them out yourself.

In a city filled with young souls draped in modern streetwear, jeans, bright colors, and converse or Dr. Martens or perhaps high heels, catching this needle in the haystack plugged into every synapse of wonderment. The muted tones of his clothing gleamed the brightest out of the sea of strangers.

This is what made you human. Your desire to know everything that lies barely beyond your wingspan. Everything you could hold was close to nothing in meaning, and everything your arms could not reach was always all you could ever want. The rise of your legs, the way you replicated his every movement, running your fingers along the stack of magazines, fastidious prancing in the spaces between the cracks, and your subtle pursuit of the man just out of reach was what made you human.

Bodies bustling through your path failed to untether you from this chase. It felt far beyond your power to stop yourself from the rising excitement and allure in your chest that pulled you towards him. The man was quick and swift to dodge oncoming bystanders, however your eyes became a missile fixed on a target.

The unexpected turn he took had you floundering for you had been trapped behind an older lady and a couple walking side by side. Sadly, your memorization of the streets and landmarks had been admisal, so you found yourself in uncharted territory. Each road sign and corner store had been displayed like a foreign language, and you mentally cursed yourself for letting your silly lust for learning what shouldn’t be learned lead you into this difficult position.

You stood defeated, the man had evaded your fragile trail behind him with ease. You lost him, or maybe he got away.

It was still midday, prompting you to make an end of this means. Your eyes discovered the coast set along the edge of the town, and though this was the furthest you had ever gone, you dared to go further. This mishap of yours granted you the opportunity to introduce yourself to the shore, and the waves have always delighted your interest. So, you found it just to walk down to the sand. The sound of the water pressing into the wet sand was calming; it was something you could find yourself getting used to. Luck presented itself kindly, giving you a moment unencumbered by the rain that had ceased not long after you stepped foot on the beach.

You took this time to be with yourself and sort out all the problems that have been worrying your mind these past few weeks. Your best friend, Chaeyoung, had an upcoming birthday that had snuck up on you before you had the chance to even think about getting her a card, let alone a gift or celebration. And you would be disappointed with yourself if you failed to outdo last year’s efforts. There was also the test in your Chemistry class scheduled only a day after her birthday, curtailing your plans of staying out late because there was no way you would allow for anything less than your very most on this exam. Then, there was the essay on what makes us human that you denied any chance of regaining priority to your list of worries, knowing it would gnaw at your mind until you forcibly shut it out.

And the man that willed you to seek him out, and that wore the title of his stories as if he intentionally wished to spark your wonder to learn them.

That should have been the last of your worries. It should have been.

The day began to fade into a warm, orange dusk. Skies once gloomy and grey now covered in blankets of clouds reflecting the sun’s gentle rays and you found yourself reunited with the calming feeling similar to when you first stepped on the beach.

Not long after registering how far you had traveled along the shore, you noticed a quaint lighthouse with a house-like structure at the base. The off-white stones cemented up until a red paneled roof covered it, tempting you to know what lies behind those walls.

It looked like it was about to rain again.

Are lighthouses closed off from the public?

There’s a house, there must be someone inside that could help me find my way home.

All these comments to yourself made to premise the conclusion of entrance into this lighthouse. As you approached the door, framed in oak lining and painted red, the clouds appeared heavy once again. A few drops of condensation was enough persuasion that what was about to be done was for the good of your well being. You pushed it open and a creak echoed around the room inside.

The walls were covered with stone bricks and there was one table in the center of the room. Other than that, this house was barren and if it weren’t for the second door that you guessed led to the lighthouse you would have called a car to take you home.

Your walk was pensive and mouse-like; there was some quality about this structure that made you feel like you weren’t alone and sudden movements would disrupt an established peace. Your hand turned the cold, gold-plated handle and pulled open the door, soon being met with a warm gust of air that engulfed you into the lighthouse.

This part of the building was exponentially more decorated than the room that preceded it. A staircase cemented into the sides of the lighthouse plastered with shelves upon shelves of books spiraled along the cylindrical walls, paired with dull lanterns that illuminated each level of railing had you drawn into its magnificence.

You stared up to what looked like a platform that held a place in which one would rest and look out into the ocean. There was no one in sight, and you assumed permission to climb up the staircase. Your eyes scanned each spine, creased and slightly warped from the moisture of the air, like they had been read over and over again. Your breath became heavy and your stare was focused on the books to ignore the dizziness settling in.

Reaching the top of the staircase came as a blessing, your lungs were close to catching fire. There were two armchairs, side by side, one fashioned a knitted blanket and the other was used as a table for five to seven or so novels, and the walls behind buried in high stacks of more books. There had to be at least seventy in the first half of piles you accounted for, and before you had the chance to snoop around the rest of the room you heard a voice coated with alarm behind you.

“What are you doing in here?” Your breath halted as you turned around, about to explain why you had let yourself into this building, however no amount of words could fully justify this invasive act.

You recognized the wool coat and the tweed hat now resting in his hand instead of on his head. His eyes were shrouded in a youthful innocence despite his attire that implied he was a sophisticate of some sort.

“Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the police?” The boom of his voice was chilling, sending shivers along your neck and chest.

“Sorry, I’m-” How could you possibly defend your intrusion without sounding juvenile or absolutely insane? “I was… It was raining and I just was walking on the beach so-”

“So, you decided breaking and entering was better than getting a little wet?” His barbed responses hurdled how you plaintively stuttered around excuses. Despite his efforts to seem menacing, you couldn't let go of his boyish facial features. It was absolutely astonishing to you that someone who looked young enough to attend your own college and handsome enough to garner quite a bit of attention had anything to do with this dingy, aged lighthouse.

“No, I was going to come in here to ask for directions. I’m lost.” The pitiful temperament of this comment was not intentional, but the man who now stood in front of you felt itched by it. He couldn't ignore how your legs trembled, partly from the cold but also because of his raised voice directed at you, and how that admittedly aroused some guilt.

“It’s fine. Just-” He sighed deeply, placing his hat on the side table adjacent to the left armchair, “You can just wait here until the rain stops. Though, I have to say it looks unrelenting at the moment.” The man’s attention was captured by how the heavy rain seemed to wage war against the raging tides. You caught a glimpse of a smile. The slightest upturn of the corner of his lips almost compelling you to reveal you had spotted him in the town earlier today, and that you found yourself enamoured with his every movement, and he was ironically the reason you were stuck here.

“Are you sure? I can go, I shouldn't have been here in the first place.” The words escaped from your mouth quickly as if they were trying to race each other to be spoken.

“No, I said it’s fine.” The suddenness of this offer hushed you. He then removed his wool coat, unveiling the clothes he wore beneath it. The burgundy crew neck sweater layered tastefully over a collared shirt was just as old fashioned as every other article of clothing he sported. How intriguing.

“I'm sorry.” Your muscles grew sore from suppressing how aggressively you would have been shaking from the cold. “Thank you.” Him granting you shelter gave you motive to keep the umbrella that would suffice to protect you from the rain under wraps. The option he presented was far more favorable.

“Sit down. Please, use this blanket.” He gestured towards the throw draped over the right armchair. His eyes avoided you as much as he could manage though you had this glow emulating from your wanting eyes and soft looking skin that crept to the corner of his vision too brightly to ignore. Consequently, this comment soothed both your body and mind for he unguarded a kindness that was hidden when he first spoke to you.

“My name is ___.” He was facing the window that displayed the sea, now thrashing and falling into itself, and without moving his head, his eyes drifted towards you.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh- How?” Maybe accepting an invite in a secluded lighthouse on the beach wasn’t the safest thing you could be doing on a Friday afternoon. Anxiety pioneered a place in your breathing, turning it rushed and choked.

Before your mind could theorize all the ways in which you could make an escape from this room or how quickly you could use your hidden umbrella as a weapon he said, “I noticed you following me in the town’s square earlier today.” You sighed, releasing the terror that pricked your lungs. If anything, it was he who should be afraid of you.

“I’m not a stalker!” That weak defense was all you could push from your throat before any well constructed explanations could be put forth.

His laugh, along with his cryptic gaze towards the waves, made you feel even worse about your actions.

“You were just so stunning and I wanted to know what kind of person still wears a newsboy hat without trying to make a statement.” Your lower lip tucked between your teeth stopped the nervous laugh about to spill and expressed worry that the more you tried to explain yourself, the more this man believed you should be charged for stalking not to mention trespassing.

“Stunning?”

“I mean, like, someone I’d want to meet.”

“What were you planning on doing once I stopped somewhere, or noticed you?” He questioned you only because he relished how you were scrambling to a proper defense. He knew you weren’t any threat to him, not many people were, however he enjoyed your chatter more than the silence that would have taken its place.

“I don't know, maybe just… introduce myself?” This sheepish, yet honest, reply had you drowning in humiliation, while the man before you seemed as if he were floating effortlessly along the surface.

“I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” Relief replaced the worry that he would turn you away, leaving you to the hands of the storm outside. The fact that any other person would have done so led you to believe Jungkook held a lot more compassion than he let on. You held your hand to greet him, finding it only polite to execute this formality. His, however, remained folded behind his back, notably denting your ego as you retracted your hand quicker than you extended it.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself in slight embarrassment from this trivial rejection. “So, do you live here or something?” Your question was first replied to with a breath of annoyance. Jungkook was kind enough to allow you a sanctuary from the rain, exemption from the intrusion and stalking, and now he found himself having to entertain you.

“Yeah, something like that.” All this disinterested answer did was persist your attempts to break his catatonic gaze. However, his reserve had been solidified steadily over the years, so this venture was going to be tough.

“I didn’t know you could live in a lighthouse?” Your inquiry was spoken with the hopes this would ignite a lasting conversation.

“It’s not a lighthouse, technically.” Jungkook’s affirmative tone flew right over your head, conjuring even more annoyance that oddly enticed him to continue responding to your dense questions.

“Well, it looks like a lighthouse. It’s shaped like a lighthouse. It’s on the beach, just like a lighthouse.�� A chuckle joined the sigh of his breath and his head that shook at your shallow observations. Jungkook eventually turned around and made his way towards the stacks of books, trying to preoccupy himself from whatever this exchange was. “All signs point to this being a lighthouse.”

“Well, it’s not. Lighthouses are meant to send signals to the ships out at sea. This doesn't,” His curt response tickled your amusement, only encouraging you to further aggravate him. “Therefore, not a lighthouse.”

“Okay,” You sounded agreeable, but this was soon followed by a doubtful comment whispered just loud enough for Jungkook’s ear to catch it, “It’s a lighthouse.” He found his stoicism melting away due to your spiteful attitude and conniving giggle in the face of his frustration. You wanted to get a rise out of him, and he knew this, and you were doing a fine job at it.

“It’s not-” His voice elevated with excitement, but he soon tamed the defensiveness threatening to spill from his lips, “Do you want to go back out into the rain?”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Though, you sounded all but remorseful. The sly smirk resting on your face matched Jungkook’s satisfied expression, despite these smiles surfacing for different reasons. You couldn’t deny how humorous it was to distemper this man. How all the worries you laid out like the pebbles and seashells on this beach were washed away by the tides. Meanwhile, his grin provided little contribution in masking his enjoyment of your company and relentless curiosity.

You now sat in the right armchair, bundled in the blanket. It was not necessarily a thick blanket, but the chills once disturbing you had dwindled almost immediately. You were still entranced by Jungkook's movements. His hands were now occupied with a book from one of the stacks he’d been eyeing; the way he cradled the book like it was a newborn baby further revealed he had a somewhat protective attitude towards them.

“What are you reading?” His eyes remained between the pages and lines of the book, but his focus was yet again thieved by your incessant curiosity. Jungkook thought it irritating similarly to how one would find a cat disrupting their owner from work, annoying yet ever so endearing, and adorably distracting.

“I’m not reading, I’m being bothered by you.” His snark was meant to damage your brazen pestering, but unknown to him it merely fueled it.

“Boohoo.” No matter how elementary that retort was, you still managed to fever him and hold hostage his attention.

“I’m reading The Odyssey.” Jungkook surrendered to you, placing the book on his lap that was now sitting in the armchair next to yours. “Why do you ask so many questions?” His eyes laid on you the same way they laid on the sea, filled to the brim with fascination.

“I just wanted to know what you were reading.” Even when he expressed a clear indication that he was past your nonsense, it went unnoticed like the particles of dust flitting around the darkened room. This oblivion of yours prompted your next question. “Could you read it to me?”

His eyebrows furrowed at this request. Jungkook had already found himself exhausted by your persistence, and predicted ‘no’ would not be accepted as a viable answer. He just sighed and began to read aloud.

His soft voice somehow drowned out the sea’s commotion. The words flowed off his tongue as if he wrote the book himself; such poise for a young man lured you to immerse yourself in his narration and time grew more and more abstract.

After a bit, Jungkook paused to examine how you'd received his reading and he was pleased to find your chin resting in your palm and your eyes and ears fixed onto him as if he were reading the gospel. This made it difficult, impossible, to deny entry for the subtle blush working its way on his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied?” He closed the book, peering out of the window to check if the weather had eased since you arrived. Though the intensity of the storm hadn’t lightened in the slightest, there was a new tranquility adopted by the drizzling sky waters that sank and fed into the waves.

“Never.” You replied with a hungered conviction twisted into your words, “What happens next?”

Jungkook laughed in shock of how eager you were to hear more of this story. It was unlike someone who wasn’t well versed in literature to genuinely enjoy listening to this archaic novel.

“Why are you laughing? Read more!” Your whine came off a bit childlike, but succeeded in its goal.

“It’s getting late.” He commented with a gentle sternness, though he proceeded to reopen the book. Your peculiar attention naturally drew him to oblige your desires. Even in the midst of a storm, even as the hours slipped by and the evening had been born, he continued to read.

You settled back into your chair in rejoice that you’d get to spend a bit more time with Jungkook. He was practically a stranger, and still there was a climate of comfort and intimacy that took the place of the crisp, winter air when he read from his book. He felt it too, and that was reason enough to allow you this company.

Throughout the chapter he had been working to finish, he snuck glances to find your eyes growing heavy with sleep as each page turned. Jungkook halted from reading and was trapped in the flush of your cheeks and lips and how your mouth hung slightly ajar as you inhaled the cold, wet air of the lighthouse. The puffs of breath that billowed from your lips had him yearning to know a warmth so full with life and curiosity.

“Are-” Jungkook tensed at the idea of disturbing your sleep, as if you hadn’t barged into his life without a hint of permission. “Are you asleep?”

Your head lifted slowly, then held stiff to maintain consciousness, “I was just resting my eyes. I’m not tired, I want you to read more.” You said this in spite of knowing you would drift asleep if he did.

“I think we are done reading for now.” The book closed for the last time, his hands pressing against the cover to seal his assurance. “You should head home.”

“But, I don’t know how the book ends.” This weak argument came from a place of jaded desperation. Regardless, he almost fell victim to your subdued urgency but any sensibility he could garner warned him not to allow this. You were quite obviously tired and he prefered you be safe in your own bed before the night advanced.

“Well, that’s because I only just started this book and it is very, very long.” Jungkook hoped this would usher you out even if that meant the return of loneliness would seep between the pillows of the right armchair after you left him with his solitude.

“Well, I won’t be able to get these questions out of my mind unless I finish the book.” Another weak argument drained from your inventory of excuses. Maybe a change of subject would present an opportunity to linger in his company. “Also, why do you live here all alone?”

“I just do. I feel like I don’t have to explain this to you.” Jungkook was bewildered at his admission to give you, an unannounced and uninvited visitor, any explanations and still he was close to doing exactly that. “You’re quite invested in my personal life.” As much as that was true, his withdrawal from your curiosity wasn't all that effortful. Living in secrecy and desolation had the feeling of companionship nearly vanishing from his memory and you reunited him with that warmth. And, he had not realized how it had nearly been forgotten or how much he missed it until he finally felt it again.

“You seem like someone who has better things to attend to.” The lament that stained his words bore such heartache that was soon displaced in your chest.

“No, no. My life is boring, and I don’t know. What person wouldn’t be interested in the personal life of a hermit who lives in a lighthouse?” You stood and paced around the platform towering over the swirling bookshelves below, towering over what felt like the entire world with Jungkook. The end of the blanket trailed your footstep as your drooping eyes skimmed the multicolored novels which were remarkably arranged alphabetically by author. How he had the time or patience to organize the hundreds of books he owned was beyond your comprehension. Every detail you acquired from Jungkook was stored in a compartment of your heart, almost as if it were assigned by fate. They were told in riddles and secrets and everything else meant to be deciphered.

“Not a hermit, and not a lighthouse. I couldn’t imagine someone like you being bored with your life.” His voice had become welcoming, with a hint of genuine interest, and this transition felt imminent ever since you first introduced yourself. The tilt of your head signified your agreement with his last statement and implied there was something that bothered you about this truth.

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you. Curious, young with your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to believe you should be bored with that.”

“You say that as if you aren't the same age as me.” Jungkook shrugged lazily and scuffed his shoes against the rug as he now stood against the window sill, observing your interest of his books.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, and yet I am all those things. Bored, curious, and I’m here talking to a complete stranger that totally has the capability to murder me like in those movies instead of going back home.” Your comment that snuck out had wrested a soft chuckle from Jungkook. They were absentmindedly thrown into the air that filled the space between you and him, nurturing his reciprocated fascination with you. Your diligent grazing of each book had distracted how the weight of your eyelids heavied by the minute.

“It’s not like I don’t have great people in my life or a quality education that takes up most of my time, I just,” Your brief pause was to turn your attention over to Jungkook, who did not hide how he was listening intently to these confessions, alleviating from a place in need of emptying. His eyebrow was arched in a manner that jolted you back to your senses. You’d revealed one too many privacies to someone who you had been acquainted with only hours ago. Mortification would have bathed your body if not for the way Jungkook seemed to strongly engage with your openness.

“You just?” He staged his interest overtly to correct the imbalance of how your genuinity left you hanging lower than him on the emotional scale. Jungkook believed that was the least he could do to mitigate the embarrassment about to silence you.

“Uh, I just never seem to be satisfied with what I have. And that makes me seem like a greedy, spoiled child which makes me even more frustrated with myself.” You admitted, pulling the blanket over your shoulders tighter as if that would shield you from the compromising guilt slithering out of your body. “And that’s how I see myself. Ungrateful and spoiled.” This certainly scraped the barrel of your deep rooted disgust with yourself.

“Not spoiled, just lost.” His response felt like a soft and thoughtful embrace, granted that this was meant to ease the tinge of reproach in your heart. The words he spoke caressed your cheeks and told you that every horrid thing you thought of yourself was flawed.

“I’ve certainly been in your position.” He euphemized what he really wanted to say to you, that he saw himself in you. Even though you spoke very little on this, he felt himself living every experience you alluded to as if he had been right beside you your whole life. Or rather that you had witnessed his life and suffered identical desires and grievances and adversities and were simply retelling his story down to the most intricate detail; and somehow you made it sound brand new and a thousand times more aching. He was stranded in a state of amazement, ambushed by your pain and how even in moments of emotional destitution, you were unquestionably beautiful.

Likewise, this stranger, who was no longer estranged, and his kind words nearly compensated for the billions of people you could never meet, all the dreams you wanted but could never alter into incarnation, and all the disappointments that plagued your heart.

And you felt held by his words, his voice, him.

“You’ve been in my position?” You requested confirmation.

“I was. Certainly.” And he confirmed.

“Where are you now?” In turn, you wanted this to suggest, ‘where can I find you?’

This question carried profound sentiment on both the giving and receiving end of it. To you, this yearned for advice. Any piece of wisdom would gladly, gratefully be accepted to ease this rampage of constant dissatisfaction. To him, it resurfaced a series of speculations long undisturbed until you had asked this question; a place intentionally void of all attention because it was sometimes too grim to remember. A haze of difficulty crowded a definite answer, though he knew there was one. He couldn’t place his finger on a fitting response and found himself next to you in search of the answer.

Where are you now?

This haunted his mind for a bit, leaving him speechless and albeit impressed, for once, by your curiosity.

“It’s hard to say. Somewhere in between, I suppose.” Whatever meaning this carried did not resonate as sound to you. The mere idea of being on the end of perpetual longing, waiting for a clear path to the end that promised fulfillment, made it implausible to settle on being somewhere in between the two. Again, you were left unsatisfied and feeling a burden placing itself on your shoulders and wallowing a fit of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook noticed how your eyes fell from his, down to the maroon accents of the rug, and felt out of place. Out of place, in his own lighthouse, all because your gaze and attention he’d grown used to in this short time wasn’t directed at him.

“That’s the kind of ambiguity that leaves me so hungry.” He nodded in agreeance with the twisted cruelty of his response you had pointed out. Jungkook didn’t know how or why he’d come to turn every corner and check each crevasse to find what could settle your appetite. This whole time, though, he sailed through this painstaking search without a trace of uncertainty. His illusion of disinterest and annoyance soon dissolved into the floor that your eyes hadn’t strayed from.

“Maybe if I lived in a quaint, not-lighthouse I would be satisfied with that answer, but I don’t. I live a normal, normal, normal life.” The repetition of your words stressed your fatigue of this dullness, your desire for everything just inches away from your fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a normal life. I think it’s wrong that we have put the idea of drama and excitement on a pedestal.” This outlook, unlike the last, did gain traction in stripping the thick ambiguity around Jungkook’s mind. To your surprise, you could be satisfied with the small pieces of this man’s mystery being chipped bit by bit.

He was well aware of his deep rooted appreciation that accompanied your eyes as it moved towards him once again. There was some sense of purposefulness in this glance that demoted his callousness to tender captivation.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“I have a hard time believing you only have one more question.” His doubtfulness didn’t seem to discourage you, or him.

“For real! Only one more, it’s important.” The only way to prove whether or not this question was truly important was for you to ask it. His head nodded his approval.

“What do you think makes us human?” Before he could answer, a swell of perplexity had overtaken his thoughts on this. You could tell, out of everyone, Jungkook would have a profound answer that could save you hours of contemplation over your philosophy essay’s prompt.

“That’s an interesting question.”

“An interesting question in need of an answer.” You prodded him for his response, though this was pointless if there was no response that could possibly be constructed. Not a response of reason that you seemed to require, but of feeling. Like an instinct, and that in itself made it inapplicable to this question.

“Ask me again some other time. I don’t know if the answer is that simple.”

But, of course, it was. The answer, in his eyes, was blindingly clear.

“I’ll hold you to that!” He gladly took accountability for that commitment. An unfamiliar contentment with the unknown had lodged in your chest when the promise of spending time together emerged through the once conditional circumstances. The promise that transformed those conditional circumstances to voluntary acts.

This humbling discovery left a wide grin on your face, beaming directly towards Jungkook.

Jungkook peered over to the antique clock placed on a shelf next to the window. The aversion of his eyes was to save face from how your soft smile that projected praise and attachment had effectively unnerved him; he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his fingers that twitched out of pure elation.

The hour hand stationed on the twelve carved in roman numerals verified how his company had erased any discern for the hours that passed. They had floated away so silently, slowly that you could have sworn time froze altogether.

“Oh shit, it’s midnight? Fuck me.” The decibels of your voice boomed against the walls, it could have shaken the stacks of books down to a pile of mess. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t even realize it was so late.” You unraveled yourself from the blanket and collected your belongings in a bit of a frenzy.

“It’s alright. I, um, I had a nice time.” He distanced himself from you swiftly as you dashed across the room to the edge of the stairs. Even in a hurried state, you still looked back to him and offered a smile, unsure if that was enough to suffice for a proper gesture of gratitude.

“Me too.” The words were close to inaudible, but you knew he heard them loud and clear, along with the string of implications that were laced in them.

“Oh and by the way, make good use of that umbrella. It looks like it could start raining again.” Your ears felt engorged with flames when he’d revealed his knowledge of your little secret. It was foolish of you to believe you could outsmart Jungkook because what you thought obscure was well within his range of astuteness and the umbrella, still damp from the rain, was apparent from the beginning.

You didn’t catch how he’d been smiling when you turned away bashfully, strutting down the stairs in an attempt to portray false confidence. But if you did, you would have picked up on his mutual indulgence in your visit, the absolute bliss laden in his eyes. You grasped tightly to the joy evoked from the thought of seeing him again, however your nerves held a tighter grasp that did not allow you to express this to him. Perhaps your giggles of excitement, surely heard by Jungkook, spilling from your throat as you rushed out the empty room or the way you clutched your umbrella to your chest in admittance you had purposefully kept that fact from him would give Jungkook a clue of how thankful you were to meet him. And even more so to be able to see him again.

As you parted from the lighthouse that was not a lighthouse, something in between, you felt that the comfort you once had taper off with the growing distance from the not-lighthouse. You were fraught with a gentle yearning to turn back, run up the spiraling stairs, settle yourself back into the right armchair, and ask humbly to stay a while longer.

Little did you know, Jungkook’s hopes coincided with yours like two concentric circles.

(One week later)

If it wasn’t the question left unanswered that motivated you, it was the fact that you missed the view of the beach from the window. Or maybe it was the countless supply of book titles that you didn’t get to finish inspecting. Perhaps it was that you missed how the soft blanket complimented the feathery cushion of the right armchair.

Any of these excuses could be suited to explain how you rushed through the town, determined, goal-oriented and passing down streets now ingrained in your memory, with a destination clear in mind.

But it definitely couldn't be how dearly you missed the sound of his voice when he read to you or his smile or the way he studied the waves with gentle affection. No, it couldn't be that.

Either way, you arrived at the base of the lighthouse. It had been a week since your first visit and you hoped that the invitation still stood for your return. Making your way through the empty room felt quick since you hadn't wasted time to notice how the table now had a vase of flowers in the center. Nor did you notice the new mat placed in front of the interior doorway to the lighthouse.

Your heart dropped from your chest when you reached over to the door knob only to find it was locked. You turned the handle back and forth as if that would miraculously function as a key to unlock the door. After a bit of knob fiddling had proven itself useless, you turned away with a huff of air releasing your frustration.

The click and turn of the handle had you twirling around optimistically and seeing him made all that disappointment dissolve.

“You’re back again.” He was smiling at you, then cocked his head to say come in. The moment you stepped into the lighthouse, its lackluster disappeared as if by magic. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t magic at all; it was the person that hid their umbrella, and asked him to read and promised to return as much as he promised to let you return.

“I believe you promised to keep reading to me.”

“Did I?” The reasons for your return weren’t all that important to discuss, both you and him were just glad to make your way up the stairs to the two armchairs once more, hearts both racing not because of the physical exertion from the stairs but from the excitement rasping through yours and his bodies.

“Yes, but this time I won’t fall asleep.”

“We’ll see about that.” There was no question that your intense focus wasn’t because you cared about the book he had been reading. In all honesty, you would not be able to summarize any bit of the plot if someone asked. You probably would have a hard time even naming the author of the book because what sank you into the words on the pages wasn’t the story itself, but the voice that read them. Jungkook made those languid paragraphs sound like the first words ever to be spoken; he reinvented the English language through his unique dialect, inflections and phrasing that had the words of Homer dancing off the pages. So, of course there was no question that you wouldn’t be able to name any of the characters or recognize the writing style of Homer because those details faded away, leaving only the memory of his voice with you.

This time, Jungkook didn’t have to offer you a seat. He made it clear that this spot had been reserved and waiting for you by the way the blanket had been folded and worn by the arm of the chair and the new pillow resting at the base of the chair’s backrest. You planted yourself on the cushion that felt more plump than the last time you sat in it and faced towards the large window that showcased the ocean’s energetic swaying.

“I would never get tired of this view.” You commented while Jungkook pulled back the curtains further to widen the seascape. He too was drawn to the deep blue waters making their way to and from the shore.

“I usually don’t leave the windows this open, but my love for the scenery of the ocean has rekindled.” When he said this, your eyes hadn’t budged from the window unlike Jungkook’s that peered over to you. You pretended not to notice that or the way your heartbeat had taken a quickness that had your skin growing warmer.

“How could it leave in the first place?”

“It is well known, especially by you, that having an abundance of something lessens your appreciation for it.” A corner of your lips lifted at this, knowing exactly what he had been referring to. Each wave passed by and in a comatose-like state, you wondered where on the shore it would land.

“No need to call me out already, Jungkook.” He had left the window and retrieved The Odyssey that hadn’t left the side table since the night he read it to you. This broke your trance, and you shifted to face the left armchair.

“You made it too easy, ___.”

“Okay, Hermit.” Your smile did wonders to ease the irritation in Jungkook’s chest to tenderness. Though he refused to admit it, this otherwise taunting nickname sounded affectionate coming from you.

“Technically a hermit is-”

“Technically, I don’t care about your technicalities. No amount of facts will persuade me that you aren’t a Hermit.” Jungkook dug his tongue into the side of his cheek to resist from joining in with your laughter. He’d been fidgeting with the book that was waiting to be read, but neither of you seemed to mind putting that off.

“Ho- How was your day?” You shouldn’t have felt as proud as you did for making a man who could read aloud for hours stutter over his own words, and nonetheless you were extremely flattered by this.

“It was good.” Good never really meant good, and Jungkook knew this.

“And what’s the truth?” Your playing field had once again been unleveled, the advantage returned into the palm of Jungkook’s hand in the blink of an eye. His perceptiveness had been bordering on annoying but still remained on the side of impressive.

“Well,” You bunched the blanket in your fists as an expression of worry, “My mom called today.” Anyone who could hear would be able to tell you sounded unhappy about that.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jungkook articulated his question to get the answer he’d been looking for, finding the hostility in your voice far more interesting than the actual conversation between you and your mom.

“You don’t know my mom, but she projects her over achieving personality onto almost everyone she meets, but most of it goes onto me.” Your back had straightened when mentioning your mom, almost as if it were a reflex, like Pavlov’s dog, that you were conditioned to be on guard at the thought of her. “I don’t know why I get so mad at her when she does that because I know it comes from a place of love.”

Jungkook hummed softly, granting you space to continue talking.

“Yeah, it probably comes from a place of love but part of me doesn’t believe that. Part of me thinks every time she calls to check on me it’s really just a ploy for her to nag me on what I could be doing better.” You scoffed as the conversation from earlier in the morning played out in your head again. Envisioning the back and forth between you and your mother only fueled your frustration but you couldn’t help yourself. There was no stifling the seething anger imploding before Jungkook’s eyes. “She always says stuff like, ‘Maybe if you applied yourself more you would be doing better than this.’ or ‘I told you that you should have done this or that and now it’s too late’ or the infamous ‘Do you not care about your future?’ lecture that just gets under my skin. She’s so good at saying the wrong things at the wrong time. I don’t know how she does it but she always manages to rub dirt in the wound.”

“So, she’s never satisfied with you?” Jungkook observed.

“No, never! And you’d think a mother would be supportive or happy with all the things her child had already accomplished but somehow it’s never enough. And she knows what she’s doing. That makes it worse. She knows how she weaponizes my guilt against me.” You held your tongue from the much longer rant about to digress, feeling a sudden discomfort in the way you’d been complaining to Jungkook. You couldn’t understand why it was all too easy to talk of these kinds of things to him, why he looked so interested in what you were saying even when anyone else would have grown tired of you by now, why you found in him a warm confidant much more comforting than you’d expected, yet there was no way to dismiss this reality.

Jungkook did not offer advice, or tell you that you should be thankful or that maybe you were handling these situations poorly. He did none of that. His silence was more thoughtful than any number of things he could have said. He simply listened.

You rose from the chair to get a closer view of the sea. Past your reflection in the glass, the consecutive tides seemed to grapple over the next and the next; the previous wave always just short of reach to tackle the immediate wave. He had followed you without a word, living up to your desire to have him at your side. There was no need for mindless comments or condolences to fill the silence, only mindful amity, at your side, because watching the ocean with you was enough.

“So, that was my day.” It was the first thing spoken after a period of quiet, perfectly timed and delivered for it to bear a dry humor in its intention. Jungkook and you laughed, finding this the long needed release of tension in your head.

“Is this going to become a habitual thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Me complaining to you about my personal struggles that would have gone in my journal or somewhere far more private than this.” All said while your and Jungkook’s gazes didn’t wander from the view of the window. “Me inviting myself into your lighthouse, or not-lighthouse, whatever.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Two heads turned towards each other almost as if it were on que.

The way your pupils dilated and softened conveyed every bit of thanks you held in your heart but couldn’t muster the courage to voice. Jungkook’s doe-eyed smile thanked you likewise and confessed the gratitude for how you had rescued him from yet another lonesome afternoon with a curtained window, an unused blanket, an empty chair, and a melancholic silence as he read his one of thousands of books. Not including The Odyssey, that was for your ears only.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.” His tease succeeded to provoke that smile of yours. And even though that was a favor on his end, he was the one that felt graced by it. Realistically, a smile costs nothing yet there grew an enormous debt in his heart; and even though he couldn’t afford it, all he could do was bask in every detail your smile, of the crease of your eyes, and of the way your cheeks took the form of a sweet Spring Peach, and the scrunch of your nose and brows. Before he sank himself deeper in debt, Jungkook beckoned for the two of you to return to your seats and read all your worries away.

---

Who would have guessed that The Odyssey, of all things, would be the thing that would occupy most of your Fridays through the rest of the winter? Sometimes you visited a Sunday, and other times you’d find yourself needing to hear The Odyssey on a Wednesday evening or a Monday morning. The days on which you swung by the now familiar lighthouse would vary, but they remained a weekly occurrence.

Jungkook had grown comfortable with this routine, reading to you while you watched him and the waves, but mostly him. Occasionally, his reading would cease to an interruption of his own doing to ask how your day was in a very specific way that only Jungkook seemed to exhibit. He’d ask you say anything but ‘good’ or ‘boring’ and he’d clarify that he wanted you to not leave out any details.

“Why?” You would ask. And he’d look at you as if you set yourself on fire.

“It’s important to me.” He’d reply as if it were that simple, or the answer you were looking for. Still, if it was important to him you didn’t need any more persuading.

Like when you told him you stopped by a coffee shop, he’d tell you to specify which drink you ordered and how it tasted.

“Cinnamon.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“No, I prefer peppermint but sometimes I combine those flavors and that becomes my other favorite.”

“That sounds sweet.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It makes my insides feel like Christmas.”

“Is Christmas a feeling?”

“It is to me!” He smiled at your childlike enthusiasm because it made life seem a lot more appealing than he’d ever believed. Before you, the world was a little greyer. After you, suddenly full of vibrance, saturated to the grandest extents.

Or the time you brought a candle to fill the air with something a bit more pleasant than the smell of the old, wet stones of the lighthouse.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a candle, vanilla and patchouli.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don’t remember. I just found it in my house and thought this place needed something sweet.”

“But you’re here.” Your teeth bit down on your tongue when he said this. You almost fallen trapped in figuring out what motivated him to say this, but the flattery of his comment was all too pleasing to ignore.

“But I don’t smell like vanilla and patchouli.” You said, only to save face from the fact that you suddenly felt like a deer in headlights when he looked at you, bracing for when he would crash into you and hoping to god you can absorb the exhilaration of souls colliding; and hoping to god he would crash into you.

“Could you light it, then?”

“Of course.”

And the room filled with a sweetness that complimented your company finely. Now, whenever he would smell the scents of vanilla and patchouli he would think of you, and you of him.

He would continue asking these simple questions, and so on.

Why he thought it was essential for you to relay these almost invaluable intricacies was beyond you, but it did make you feel heard; it made you feel held as it always did. It made the value of your life gone without the need to be earned or proven, the value of the smaller moments that fell between bigger moments.

It made it all okay that you felt like you stripped the clothes from your whole life off for him to revere and that he’d rarely ever display such emotional nudity for you; you were okay with lying bare before his eyes, vulnerable and pliant to his every whim. Even when you wanted to know all of these things about Jungkook and he’d hold them captive or he’d only offer half sufficient answers, you collected as many bits of the puzzle as possible to try and piece together his story.

“How are your parents, Jungkook?”

“Long gone.”

“Oh, Jungkook… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I watched them grow old and content and that softened the blow.”

“Are you lonely?”

Yes, it’s excruciating when you are not here. I am tormented in your absence and all too plagued with despondency and I wish you knew that.

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“So you have.”

“So I have.”

You did not want him to be lonely; you didn’t want him to ever be sad but you wanted him to be able to say that he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you he was lonely; you wanted him to want you to know his heart. You wanted him to feel as naked as you felt. Vagueness was all you could ever manage to arrest from his gated mind.

And for once, the little he had given was more than you could ever ask for.

Sunday mornings with Jungkook were your favorite. The ocean was tame during this time on Sundays specifically and sailed you into its calmness; you were half asleep, resting on the sill running along the base of the window panes. Spring had been approaching which meant there were radiant glimmers of the early sun that reflected and glided along the ripples of the waves. Jungkook once said that every time he looked at these little pieces of diamond rays, he believed the sun and the sea performed in devotion for you and him alone.

“I love that.” And indeed you did. The idea that no one else witnessed this ocean, not this one, not the way you and Jungkook had, was a greedy disposition but felt so true.

“Would you like me to read?” He said in place of, Is my voice properly fitting for something as lovely as this moment?

“I want you to talk, but not of books.” You blinked slowly at Jungkook, “Could you tell me about yourself? Just one thing, anything you choose.” He saw those specks of diamonds glimmering in your irises. He felt so close to you, sitting on the other end of the window, and close enough to finally surrender a bit of his gated mind.

“When I was a child, I knew my days were numbered. The details of why aren’t important, but I digress.” You stuffed a scoff down your throat at the assertion that the details weren’t important. Him, of all people, claiming the details were unimportant had you whirling in a paradox. “With this in mind, I did my best to fulfill everything any child would have wanted. And I don’t think I’ve ever stopped because that list of desires was never ending.”

Was this what he meant when he said he was in my position once? You wondered.

“I spent all my time looking for the next best thing I could achieve, because the best things that I had was, as you know, never enough. One week, the best thing would be finding a four leaf clover to give to my mother. The next, it was being the first in line for the new, long awaited comic book. Or, it was the time my father took me fishing on the lake, and then seconds after it was the first fish I caught and threw back into the water, and that best thing was soon replaced by my father’s proud smile.”

Your throat tightened as you visualized a young Jungkook sitting on the dock with his father, full of youth and excitement, and how nostalgia had ripened into your heart even though you had no place in this memory of his. This dream-like sequence had compelled a few tears to fill your eyes, fogging your vision of the older Jungkook that sat before you.

“When I grew older, in my adolescent and teenage years, the next best thing was fulfilling a newfound passion. It prompted me to buy out almost the entire library and major in World Literature. I spent the rest of my days from then on immersed in reading, as you can see. It was the only place I felt like I was achieving the next best thing, and it was cruel when I came to realize there was no way in hell I could finish all the books I’d collected in time.”

“In time for what?”

“In time... for the next best thing to come along, I guess.” This answer appeared fabricated, but was subtle enough to pass through your mind without a second thought.

“And did it? Did it come along?”

It would have made no difference if your question had been asked to a brick wall because Jungkook brushed it off as he did every other question that would have given you another piece of his puzzle. He took precautions to avoid a defeat to your pouting by walking over to the left armchair and burying his face in the book’s fortitude. Before you had the chance to reiterate your question, Jungkook began to read, making it all too clear he was evading.

“Jungkook?” You whined to which he paid no mind by continuing to read.

“Is he being serious right now?” Again, you might as well have been talking to an inanimate object. There was nothing to be done when he lodged his restraint other than joining him in your armchair, quietly, permissively.

Every day, like this one, spent with him had you convinced it couldn’t be surpassed in enjoyment. And every day, your expectations had been exceeded. That was something you’d never think could happen. Soon, the cares and worries of this Winter melted as the avenue of Spring had unfolded before you. A long path, surrounded with flower blossoms and diamond coated seas, or in other words, the unfathomable had fallen into your hands.

The remainder of this pleasant Sunday had been consumed by The Odyssey and Jungkook’s voice singing its words as smoothly as the waves surrounding the lighthouse and small conversations during the pauses of his reading. One struck you into reminiscence of the first night you met.

“You never answered my question.” He paused, flipping through the many unanswered questions he’d left with you. Jungkook raised his brow to order specification of which one you referred to.

“What makes us human?” The due date of your essay passed over two months ago, however this didn’t diminish your curiosity to know his answer.

“In all honesty,” He paused and looked to assure you would believe his answer would be honest, or honest enough to cater your satisfaction. “I think it’s our desire to achieve the last best thing.”

Every fiber in you compiled its own list of questions in regards to his yet again ambiguous answer, though you had grown to accept that as a part of Jungkook. And you sure as hell accepted Jungkook, ambiguity and all.

“Hm.” It didn’t take a mind reader to know you had theorized any and all connotations branching off from his answer and he didn’t mind that you could be lost in search of whatever the actual meaning of it was.

The moon was in its fullest bloom tonight, and tomorrow, it would begin to wane into a crescent then into nothing but an empty space full of new and perhaps fortunate opportunities. Jungkook found the romance of this lunar phase well equipped for the dusty instrument he discovered in the base of the lighthouse.

“I found something that I think you’d like.” Your ears perked like a dog when it’d been presented with treats. “But you have to go get it. It’s in the other room.”

Whatever this surprise was, it had excited you enough to ignore how you’d have to descend and re-ascend the many stairs that would surely tire you. Your eager legs would have jumped right from the platform to the bottom of the lighthouse if the reality didn’t result in broken bones. As you rushed to the door to the other room, you pushed through and discovered a telescope standing in the corner of the otherwise empty space. A few moments later you were hustling back up the stairs, the telescope making the re-ascension of the stairs ten times as strenuous. All the while, Jungkook just stared in amusement at the way you struggled your way to the platform.

“No, I don’t want any help, thank you!” You said sarcastically through grunts of exertion before positioning the instrument in front of the window.

“Well, I didn’t offer you any, so, you’re very welcome.” He stood on the other side of the telescope, admiring the way you fell so easily in love with it, hands scaling the length of the scope.

“Do I just?” You pointed to the eyepiece at the end of the rod and he nodded. You brought your eye to the magnifying glass which was flooded with the enchanting glow of the stars. You’d never seen them this close, but this little gift of Jungkook’s had catapulted you into the illuminated abyss of the night sky. A measly woah was all that squeaked from your voice, because all the other words were stolen by the stars.

“Can you find any constellations?” He’d seen all the stars in the galaxy; that he was sure of. But none had shone brighter than the person he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Three o’clock had crept onto the antique clock, this late hour had worn down Jungkook’s walls completely as the soft glow of adornment laminated his eyes.

“I think I see ORion's belt. That’s the only one I know other than the Big Dipper.” You laughed at your own lack of knowledge of the stars. Knowledge didn’t seem to matter though, the beauty of the stardusted sky had taken care of that deficiency. You lifted yourself away from the telescope, allowing Jungkook a turn to stargaze.

“Have you heard of the Astral Plane?” Jungkook asking you something other than, ‘how was your day’, was a rare occurrence which most likely meant this was of some importance.

“I’ve heard of it, but I think I’ll need you to refresh my memory.” You really did need clarification on what exactly the Astral Plane entailed, though you mainly just wanted to hear him explain it.

“Some say it lies in the fourth dimension. It isn’t tangible or something that can be touched. It lies between everything, every atom, every cell, every city and forest and mountain and even between the crevasses of one’s own mind and soul. A place like this is full of divinity and complete attainment and the way it is reached has been theorized by many.” Jungkook’s meticulous readjustments of the telescope had you wondering which constellations he was searching for, or maybe he’d been looking for Venus or Mars or the Moon. “Some say you arrive there in your dreams, or when you reach enlightenment, or when death draws its curtain on you… I-I don't know why but I’ve always thought that it was stitched into the sky. Far beyond our galaxy, maybe the Astral Plane has situated itself in between each star, just like it does our souls, and exists as the vastness of outer space.” It turned out he wasn't looking for any of those things, he was looking for the Astral Plane.

Could the heat rising throughout your body be merely adoration, or was it something along the lines of a forlorn longing? When he spoke, you felt this sensation growing dense in your bones; you felt a gravitation towards him.

“Seems about right to me.” Fondness had stained your tone which filled some void in Jungkook’s hungry heart, and he’d failed to predict you were the one that would be able to settle it. “Maybe we’ll never reach the Astral Plane, but at least I’m here with you.”

When you said this, the hairs on his arms pointed towards the ceiling. For once in a very, very long time, Jungkook felt a euphoric resurgence striking through the catacombs of his soul and hot tears dripping down the expanse of his cheeks, to the tip of his chin, and onto the glass scope that was shielding this sudden emotional combustion. He blinked away the tears to the best of his abilities and turned away from you and the telescope and the sky. Jungkook felt the push of air from your movement towards him, but he shifted further away.

“Are yo-”

“I found a cluster of stardust, go look.” He averted you from him and you always fell victim to every trick in his book.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” The grip you had on the telescope was firm, like you were trying to hold onto the stars themselves.

“Amazing.” He said. This reiteration wasn’t for the stars, however. He wondered if you knew that. He wondered if you could feel how consumed he was by your magnificence under the full moon that reigned with gentleness over the waves. The once wild tides, now moving with the same serenity and romance embedded into Jungkook and this lighthouse. He wondered if you could see he had been emotionally disrobed and bearing all his affection for you. And he wondered how he was so okay with that.

Six o’clock didn’t feel like six o’clock. Your eyes that struggled to keep open told you otherwise, so again you and him were parting ways as the sun had begun dawning over the horizon and there were no more stars to fill the hours slipping away. Jungkook did all he could to compose himself. He’d offered to walk you out; you reached the door that led to the dewy, Spring air awaiting your departure from the lighthouse.

“Wait, ___!” This exclamation echoed louder than the beating of his crimson heart. After stepping through the threshold, you turned to meet his gaze, teary-eyed from what you guessed was from lack of sleep. Teary-eyed from what he knew was because of another egregious goodbye. “Thank you.”

This moment seemed fitting to test the theory that actions speak louder than words. This moment called for the lapse of courage in need to act, not speak. This moment was the moment when you finally expressed the thankfulness that, to you, seemed to outweigh his by pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It was much colder than your lips and the docile warmth of the morning, but once you pulled away the warmth had stained his cheek.

Jungkook felt like every cell in his body was evaporating into the space around him. Like the way a fire would extend its heat into the air or the way Spring melted away the frost ridden Winter, your act had covered him in a blanket of love and refuge from the loneliness once vaulting his heart. And it certainly spoke louder than words; all the words in every book Jungkook had ever read and the words left unsaid and the words passing between everyone in the universe.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Hermit! You helped me see Orion’s Belt up close and personal!” You called as your strides began a slow fleet from a laughing Jungkook. You waved, now standing a generous distance from him, and he found this gave him the space needed to finally let his tears fall.

“I love you.” He whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to your ears and heart.

A revelation had overcome him, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe the tears away, they’d be instantly replenished like a stream of water rushing from a conquered dam, spilling over endlessly, with all control suspended in the air around him.

Was it finally here? The last, best thing?

---

A week after the stargazing, your mind had mapped out the stars as you too searched for that Astral Plane. To you, Jungkook’s proposition of it being strewn in the night sky was the only theoretical that made sense. You wanted to flaunt your newfound passion for this concept he’d introduced, and admittedly - and more importantly - you wanted to kiss him again, leading to yet another blissful walk down the seashore to the lighthouse. The air was warm but not humid, carrying a breeze that evened out the sun’s heat nicely. A few pillows of clouds were cascading through the sky, never staying in one spot for too long; you’d come to appreciate each one’s temporary presence and when they passed, you grew to appreciate that as well. The gaze once fixed on the sand had now traveled to the waves of much gentler motion than ever before.

This walk, unlike the dozens of others, felt different. The streets looked lovely and the air felt clean in your chest, giving you a pleasant journey far more intimate than the last. Then you realized, it felt like you were walking back home.

When you grew closer to the lighthouse, you noticed the curtains had been drawn which was strikingly unusual for a sunny day such as this one. This was a passing observation as you made your way to the base of the lighthouse.

Through the door to the room before the lighthouse, you were taken aback to find your armchair sitting in front of the table. you walked up to discover a single, folded parchment sealed with a red wax stamp labeled with your name along the top of the paper.

This felt eerie, for some reason, and you called out his name only to be met with silence, before sitting yourself down and unsealing the note.

It read in his voice:

My Dearest, ___

I wrote this to relay a lot of things left unsaid. The first being goodbye. I’m sorry to have to leave you like this, though no amount of remorse could possibly appease my actions.

Your heartbeat had grown rampant, until your eyes read those words. It was then when it stopped altogether. Still, you continued to read.

I kept things from you like the fact that our encounter in the town’s square was all but coincidental. The truth is scary, and my truth would have turned you away from the beginning. It was selfish, I admit, but I do not think I could have endured such a loss. Forgive me for keeping you in the dark all this time, but I am beyond gratified for what you granted me in spite of that.

Maybe it might seem cruel. You are not alone in feeling that — never alone. But, we were never meant to spend every Sunday morning, or Friday evening, or Wednesday afternoon together to watch the waves float along with the hours lost reading to you; I knew this was not the end of your story, just mine.

The books I have read over and over have imprisoned me in search of the “next best thing”. To my dismay, I thought I had run out of time to find it. But then you came along. You helped set me free by allowing me to live out a few more “best things” through the way you shared your life with me, unselfishly, warmly, kindly— You helped me move on.

I know you too will move on from this. I hope I could at least leave you with the tools and courage to find each “next best thing” in store. If not that, then this lighthouse, open to you and only you, and a myriad of good memories to ease our parting. I know in my heart you deserve nothing less.

I hope you find contentment somewhere in the sea or on the sand or in the stars, or perhaps somewhere in between.

Once you do, we will meet again within the Astral Plane, my love. I swear it. And if you miss me, just look through the telescope and find me woven in the spaces amidst Orion’s Belt.

Thank you. Again and again I thank you and it is still not enough. Thank you for you, for your warmth, for your salvation, for your smile, for your endless questions, for re-introducing me to the aroma of vanilla and patchouli but it was not as sweet as your companionship, for putting good use of the right armchair and the view from our window, for making the odyssey a little less lonely to read, and thank you for stepping into my lighthouse and my life.

Don't you see, it was you. You were my last, best thing.

with love and sorrow,

Jeon Jungkook

Before you got to the end of the letter, you were racing up the spiraling stairs, ignoring the burn in your tightened chest, how the air in the lighthouse had suffocated your lungs. The dizziness that blurred your eyes had not slowed your climb up the stairs, and the wetness of your tears now seeping into his letter.

You reached the top, The Odyssey greeting you on the chair Jungkook would have been seated in. Your breaths were staggered and warm, filling the mournful emptiness of the lighthouse.

“Jungkook.” You whispered. You begged for a reply. The curtains were drawn over the window, like never before, and exposed a bronze plaque peeking out from the end of the fabric. You pushed the drapes aside to read what was engraved into the metal plate and the first page of The Odyssey that hung below it.

In loving memory of our beloved son, Jeon Jungkook. May he rest in peace. 1918-1942.

The note below read:

The Odyssey

Jeon and ___ Lighthouse.

You pieced the puzzle together, finally. And with that, came the final picture, so beautiful and mesmerizing and everything you could have ever hoped for, and more.

“Jungkook.” You repeated as a bid of farewell, with a heart full of satisfaction and content, and Jungkook. You pressed the letter to your chest in hopes his words would mend your aching heart.

And it was true, he was not your last best thing, only one of them.

But he was undoubtedly your most cherished and beloved best thing.

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astra-musings · 4 years

Text

catch a break, part 2

requested? yep, continuation of a request by @faithiebrock01

this fic includes: owen grady x ready, fluff(?), ooc? kinda? lots of question marks today

warnings: some graphic imagery, the indom kinda uh eats a person so there’s that, but i don’t think i got too much into the details so,, also im pretty sure my grammar and tenses are all over the place in this lmao

summary: chaos. that’s... kinda it. a lack of understanding and a great deal more of underestimating a genetically-engineered animal’s intelligence and abilities definitely creates a mess that you can’t even begin to clean up.

a/n: so... my last update was... apparently a month ago... im SO sorry... covid really fucked me up, it got IB exams cancelled and idk how to feel! im sorry! but uh i will definitely try to be more consistent (ahem) with updates, i feel so bad oh no but 🥺please still give this lots of loveee

word count: 1.8k+ (oops)

part 1 // part 1.5

masterlist

Your body involuntarily tensed upon entering the Indominus's enclosure. You were looking for an entire dinosaur (which, when you think about it, was weird; how did something that enormous go missing?), and yet couldn't help serenity that bubbled inside you from being in a forest and submerged in nature's sounds. Talk about conflict.

Owen immediately walks over to the claw marks, hands reaching out to trace over the whitened cement. If you didn't actually know him, you might've called him excited to be here. You knew he wasn't.

You'd only been standing in the heat for a few minutes but could already feel your clothes gradually dampening with the sweat that started to gather. "How the hell would that thing have gotten out, anyway? Not like it could've walked out without anyone seeing it."

Barely a second passes before the too-familiar sound of rustling leaves comes from behind you. Too far to be something on the ground. Too crisp to be just a few leaves you stepped on. And much too loud to be just the wind. Owen's shoulders tense visibly before he turns back to you, already trying to make sure you were close by.

Your eyes meet his in silent confirmation. It's still here.

Right before the warning signals from your brain can reach your limbs, a roar rips through the jungle-like enclosure, so deep and so loud that it vibrates in your ribcage, as though you stood too close to the speakers at a party and someone was playing bass-boosted hits.

Owen reacts before you do, grabbing your wrist and turning the other way. Your legs move on their own accord, stepping into a sprint before your brain actually registers what's happening.

The security guard that was frozen stiff in the control room must've been keeping an eye on the two of you with the cameras while you were in the enclosure, because the reinforced gates a few feet away from you started sliding open. You only hoped you had enough time to slip through the opening before the Indominus did.

But just as you and Owen closed in on the gates, they started to close again. Owen throws the briefest glance back towards the control room, as if the guard could hear the nearly audible 'what the hell?' his face was giving off. You push the wrist he was holding towards him. Keep moving.

Adrenaline fuels your bodies, steering you and Owen on autopilot towards the gate that, at this point, seemed like it was moving further away. The gap through which you’d escape wasn't getting any wider either.

Owen reaches his hand out, extending his form, as though he was holding open the doors to an elevator. As if it would stop hundreds of tons' worth of metal and cement.

Your ears ring. Owen's body slips swiftly through the still-narrowing gap of the metal gates as his grip on your hand tightens almost painfully. A reminder that both of you were going to make it out of that enclosure. I've got you. You're with me.

And you do; you nearly crash into him as you push your legs just that much more so that you could catch up to Owen.

You turned back to look at the gates, feet still running on autopilot. Instead of seeing the gates close and finally allowing your body to come to a halt, hooked claws slipped through the seemingly too-small gap, its tips digging into the hard, layered cement as though it was anything but.

"You're fucking kidd–" You barely get the entire sentence out before Owen pulls you to the side, pushing you under an SUV as he followed a second later.

You manage to turn your head to the side, straining your eyes as you tried to gauge what the hell this animal was trying to do. Turns out, it wasn't that hard to figure out – you watched the workers' scrambling feet run across the gravel, trying to get themselves to safety, only to be followed by the too-large and too-scaly feet of the Indominus. You watched as its claws came to a brief halt behind each man and woman, before a distant thud ensued, followed by a headless or torso-less figure dropping onto the ground. You watched as those same claws grow nearer to where you and Owen were.

You gripped his hand. Your breathing was still labored, not having been able to come down off of the adrenaline that still kept you going.

Owen's hand pulls out of yours, prompting you to snap your head towards him in worry. What are you doing? Where are you going?

He seems to read your mind, nodding slightly as a response. He pulls a drop point knife from his back pocket, reached up above him and immediately started to tear apart some of the thicker linings on the underside of the vehicle.

You jab your elbow into him as silently as you could; what the hell was he doing? Was he going to blow up the car while you were still under it?!

He ignores you, continuing his relentless crusade on the wiring. Soon after Owen pulls them and empties its contents over the both of you as you scrunch your nose and eyes up. You're showered with cold liquid – water? No, water didn't stink; this was gasoline. Would this hurt the baby? Now you're really worried. You'd always trusted Owen in making decisions before, especially regarding your raptors, but now you were starting to question him for the first time.

A crunch in the gravel makes you spin your head to face the exterior of the car. It's those claws again. You'd almost forgotten about them in your, what now seems like blissful ignorance, worrying about Owen and his knife work.

Owen's hand grips your outer forearm, swiftly turning your body sideways to face him as he does the same. He didn't want you to keep looking. You feel his hand cradle your head to his chest.

Warmth spreads across your back. No, not from what Owen was doing. It was a literal, physical warmth. Like someone turned a fan on, but it spun out hot air instead of cool air. Like what you'd feel if someone whispered so close to ear that you could feel their breath on you.

It was the Indominus. Didn't take a genius to figure that part out. Except, now that you knew what it was, your nose seemed to involuntarily hone in on the metallic hints of the air that continued to fan across the both of you. Blood.

Your eyes screw shut as you press your forehead farther into Owen as the Indominus lets out a low growl from the base of its throat. It was so close to you, you felt your chest vibrate with the sound.

Almost as quick as it came, the Indominus struts away from the vehicle, away from you. The thumps and vibrations ripple across the ground, fading with the Indominus's continuous, low growls.

The gravel shifts once more, only this time it was right next to you, and the source of the sound was Owen – one you knew and one that was much, much, more comforting than some genetically-engineered beast. Fishing for his phone, he pushes his hips up to reach into his back pocket. His fingers move deftly across the screen, swiping and punching for some currently unknown number. The hand behind your head holds you closer to his chest.

The dull ringing of the phone is interrupted, "Owen! The Indominus esc–"

"Yeah, I fucking know it escaped! You didn't see Y/N and I running for our fucking lives, Claire?!"

So it was Claire on the other end.

"Of course I saw, Owen. I saw everything. Are you okay? How's Y/N?–"

"You don't get to fucking ask how we are, Claire. You put us in that room. You put your workers, your security guards and yourself in danger. You put Y/N in danger," at the mention of your name, you lift your head away from his chest and place a hand in its place. You could tell he was getting a little heated. Ever since you'd gotten together and started working with the raptors, he'd been extra-sensitive about your getting in harm's way.

"Speaking of security guards; the one that was with us in there? Yeah, his head's just making its way down the Indominus's digestive tract. So yeah, we're fuckin’ peachy."

Silence follows on the other end. Owen heaves out a sigh, as though reluctant to be having this conversation.

"Y/N and I are gonna make our way back to you. Keep an eye on that... thing. You need to keep it the hell away from your park guests, otherwise–" Owen pauses. Not a single one of you wanted to say, or even think, about what would happen, otherwise. He hangs up with a huff.

"C'mon, baby, let's get you outta here." He slides himself out from under the car as you begin to do the same, getting to your side just as you're about to get up. He dusts off your shirt, taking your face in his hands with the gentlest cradle.

"Are you okay?" he tilts your head from one side to another, looking for injuries, "Did it getcha? Scratches? Bruises? Does it hurt anywh–"

"I'm fine, Owen," placing your hands on his forearms, you bring his frantic movements to a stop, "this head might just fall off if you move it anymore, though." You try to joke.

He lets out a breath, "S'not funny, baby. I don't know how you're still laughing after that."

"I'm just tryna make you smile, love," you give him a gentle but reassuring grin, "no, but really, I'm okay. Promise. A few scratches, I think, but that was from the gravel."

"Besides," you start, "some 40-feet tall dinosaur could never lay a claw on me." You puff your chest out comically.

Owen laughs heartily. "You're somethin' else, y'know that? God, I dunno what I'd do without you. Too strong for your own good," he pauses briefly to entwine your hands, "c'mon, we still got a long way to go before we get to the control room. We'll take the bike, yeah?"

You let out a small 'mhm' in response, smiling up at him before he turns to lead you to where his motorbike was still, supernaturally, scratch-free except for the fact that it was turned to its side.

Owen turns back to give you one last smile before letting go to pick up and reposition his bike. You take those few seconds to let your smile drop as your mind and hands wander back to your stomach for the nth time that day.

"C'mon, Y/N," he beckons you from the now upright bike, "you alright?" He seemed to notice your sudden change in expression.

"Yeah, I'm good," you bite your tongue, not wanting to add onto his currently growing list of worries, "Let's go."

#owen grady x reader #owen grady imagine #owen grady #jurassic world #jurassic world imagine #chris pratt #chris pratt imagine #chris pratt x reader #owen grady reader insert #chris pratt reader insert #fic #faithiebrock01 #catch a break #astra-musings

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years

Text

desolation!au (lunatic!kaede au)

summary: in canon, kotetsu manages to restore barnaby's memory at the last second, but what if it didn't work? what if kaede ex machina never got the chance to save her father at the top of the apollon media tower and restore the other heroes' memories? in fact, what if she never knew they were being brainwashed in the first place?what if kotetsu died that day?

basically me developing my idea of an au where, consumed by anger and grief, kaede seeks lunatic to help her in carrying her revenge and murdering her father's killer.

illustration of lunatic!kaede is attached at the very end of the fic :3

a/n: tbh, i was watching tiger & bunny w/ my friends and at some point i thought about kaede being lunatic's student because i just want to see her start shit and it wasn't anything much at first, just small headcanons here and little doodles there. but then idk , i made a little sketch and it all snowballed from there.

i ended up developing this au and have become quite invested in it.

i’m aware the format looks like cat shit on mobile, im sorry. if it’s super disruptive to the reading experience, feel free to refer to the ao3 version (links are in my desc).

alternate names lmao

lunatic!kaede! au

cats-on-the-moon!au

revenge girl!au

revenge-girl-out-for-revenge!au

vendetta! au

synopsis

follows the same storyline up until the memory loss arc, where the au experiences a massive canon divergence.

kotetsu receives a chance to escape after being aided by lunatic, and, not letting his unsuccessful attempt at making his friends remember his true identity deter him, he gathered them at the top of the apollon media tower. he tries again to make them remember that he is wild tiger, and not a murderer, but much like in canon the rest of the group do not believe him—though some falter briefly. unlike canon, however, is that kaede ex machina does not appear in time to unleash maverick’s next power that she copied to restore everyone’s memories.

she does make an attempt to reach the tower where her father is taking a stand, but she does not encounter maverick and on her way up the roof the elevator stops—as it should during emergencies... without her interference, the rest of the hero team overpower kotetsu who is smashed through the roof and lands into saito’s lab. realising that the latter doesn’t remember who he was either, kotetsu quickly grabs his suit and motorbike to try to escape and regroup with ben. the rest of the heroes rush to go after him, though some (blue rose, etc) are more hesitant than others (rock bison, etc). on the way down they [the heroes] find kaede and become preoccupied with her. they’re experiencing an emergency but the child refuses to leave, so some of the heroes have their hands full handling her.

during this, the cameras continue to follow kotetsu. in the end, barnaby pursues kotetsu on his own vehicle and they fight at the bridge where they first teamed up. kaede can follow what is currently happening as the event is broadcasted and grows increasingly hysterical, screaming that she needs to be there and that they’re [blue rose, sky high, etc] supposed to be helping her dad, not pursue him. at some point before the final blow, the feed cuts—the camera probably got hit by chunks of armour or other sort of debris.

the fight follows canon up until barnaby intends on delivering the final kick

« so this is it, eh? take care lil’ bunny…»

this time, the kick connects.

at this point kaede is inconsolable, not being able to handle the fact that the broadcast cut and she can’t check her father’s condition in real time anymore. the heroes’ attempt at getting her to speak or to tell them who her guardian is is met with choked sobs and no response.

there’s two way i see her finding out about her father’s defeat, and subsequent death:

the least traumatic, but still traumatic option: the feed was the last time she ever saw her father. the heroes only hear that « the criminal has been captured/dealt with by barnaby » on their private channel so they slowly excuse themselves and disperse, leaving kaede alone. some of the security guards approach her, trying to get a number to contact but eventually learn that she wasn’t speaking and let her sit there for a bit before calling the authorities.

the intensely traumatic “whoa you ruined a perfectly good 10-11 year old” option: as kaede grows increasingly distressed and the heroes try to keep her under control, she sees members of staff trying to cart something off discreetly. she gets a quick glance on what is being carried and recognises the hand poking out under the large tarp covering the rest of the body. it had her father’s wedding band, which he continued to wear, and upon realising what had happened, she immediately goes catatonic and wouldn’t react to the heroes anymore.

she either sits in the empty building until very late at night, sits outside on the bus stop with no intention of getting on simply watching the last of the buses disappear in the horizon, or waits at the police station with no intention of telling them who to call.

she eventually reaches the conclusion that her father will probably never come back as he died on her own and breaks down.

much like option 1) she sits in the empty building, waiting for someone who will never return.

in both options, ben ex machina (yes kaede got demoted in this au im sorry) finds her and explains to her that he was her father’s boss. this gained her attention somewhat, and she let him drive her back home after he told her that her grandmother has been frantically contacting ben after realising that kaede wouldn’t pick up.

during all this, she remains silent and out of it, still not fully accepting that her father wasn’t coming back home: kaede knows it’s no use to wait for her father anymore, but doesn’t outwardly admit the fact just in case he really is alive. she knows she’s just lying to herself.

on their way back to the kaburagi home, ben explains to her that he tried to get on that bridge as fast as possible to intercept the two, but only arrived after barnaby had left the scene. he doesn’t go into much detail, but does give her the few things he had found and recognised was kotetsu’s:

the tiger emblem that he kept this whole time

the two matching christmas pins that (unknowingly to both ben and kaede) he shared with his former partner

the first sound kaede makes in a long time is more wracking sobs as she clutches the small objects.

she passes out sometimes during transit, and wakes up the next afternoon in her room, the memorabilia safe in her pocket.

the next day, hero tv, and the organisations that funds it, refuses to make an official statement on kotetsu’s whereabouts after being intercepted by barnaby—they know that the latter murdered kotetsu, but they avoid the question in order to save his and the company’s reputation. they would answer something like:

kotetsu running away

being imprisoned for 250 years, with no visitors.

accidentally got himself killed

for the most part, the general populace accepted this outcome and thanked the diligent work of the heroes, but kaede and her family know better. kotetsu wasn’t the type to just leave, and he wouldn’t have committed murder in the first place. this official statement further cemented the fact that kotetsu had died—been killed. within sternbild, another powerful figure also doubted the credibility of the statement. yuri would literally see the red flags, but the situation really isn’t in his favour and he doesn’t know where to even tackle this. he’d need to do more digging up before planning out his attack.

kaede concludes (correctly) that barnaby was behind her father’s death, and possessed with anger and hatred, decided that she will get revenge one way or another and prove her father’s innocence.

basic plot

headcanon form now, because it’s more convenient.

the lead-up:

during the few days/weeks that followed, she barely went out of her room unless necessary.

she barely ate, even ignoring the flan pudding she adored so much.

in her self-imposed isolation, she marinates in her own grief, which turns into anger and hatred.

at first she regrets not having spent more time with her father and reaching out to him, instead of expecting kotetsu to do that for her.

but the focus slowly shifts to wanting to make kotetsu’s murderer suffer as he has made her dad suffer.

you know what, throw in the rest of the heroes.

they should’ve been kotetsu’s friend and believed him instead of pursuing him relentlessly: they’re complicit too and should be punished accordingly.

it’s important to note that, since kaede didn’t interact with maverick and inherit his next power, she doesn’t know that the heroes have been brainwashed.

she just thinks that they’re secretly an evil group posing to be heroes.

she loses faith in them, and their flawed justice that got her father killed

she wants to avenge her father and prove his innocence so badly, but doesn’t know how or where to begin. the odds are stacked against her, since only her family and a few people here and there believe in kotetsu’s innocence.

while she’s holed up in her room, she mindlessly replays the video clips that featured her dad over and over again until she memorised every single word and committed her father’s movements to memory.

one day, as she flips through the different collectibles and magazines that featured him, she came across one such issue which showcased a different type of “hero”: the sanctioner with blue flames.

the vigilante who’s idea of justice was becoming more and more appealing to kaede the more she thought about it.

she’s seen the clips, how his next power allowed him to continually keep up with the 100 power duo. how it always allowed him to have the upper hand and to deliver his justice.

kaede wants that kind of strength, that kind of power, to avenge her father.

she resolves herself to find or contact the vigilante no matter how, though that seemed to be a complicated enough task in and of itself.

kaede figures that when she does find him, she’ll either get him to work with her to get her revenge or copy his power if he refuses.

her searches prove more or less fruitless tho since lunatic can't be found when he doesn't want to be found lmao

after a few weeks/months, she grows disheartened and becomes rather depressed again.

the actual encounter:

i don’t have an actually have a concrete idea on how they met and how kaede convinced yuri to work with her, just a bunch of possibilities going from plausible to straight up crack

one way she could meet him is by bumping into judge petrov when she’s tagging along with her fam to try and claim kotetsu’s body.

the intent was to go to sternbild to recover kotetsu so that they can bury him in the family grave (and rejoin tomoe), but since the city refuses to acknowledge that kotetsu is dead and admit that a hero killed a person, the kaburagi fam can’t get his body back.

very sad times, maybe after the unsuccessful hearing kaede cries and rlly begs to be able to get her father back, and grabs hold of yuri to make her point come across or something.

do you even see a judge when you try to claim a criminal’s body? idk it’s probably illegal to make physical contact w a judge but kaede is only bby so maybe she won't go to jail? i don’t know i’m dum

anyway, he’d probably carefully peel the child off of him and say something vaguely sympathetic before going wherever the hell judges go after trial? court? i know nothing about the legal system and it shows

uh oh skin to skin contact

kaede unwittingly copies his power and moves on with her day. it wasn’t until she came home and felt a burst of anger that she noticed that??? she can summon blue flames??? like lunatic does??? except she doesn’t recall meeting him at all???

she puts two and two together and susses yuri out

or instead of literally harassing him in court

maybe she just stumbles on lunatic because his favourite hobbies are standing ominously on roofs and killing murderers, in that order.

kaede: why is there a funny looking scarecrow on the roof…???

kaede: hoLY HECK

how she manages to get lunatic on her side is more convoluted

one way would be her going back to the city and confronting yuri about it. of course, he’d deny her claim until she gets angry enough and her eyes light up.

yuri’s like “oh sHIT”.

she could threaten him by saying that if he won’t help her then she will just seek her revenge by herself.

yuri doesn’t want her to do anything rash and cause him to get in hot water because he rlly doesn't want to deal w/ the aftermath. also he doesn’t want to like, see a whole child get hurt :(

so i guess he’s like, “this is my lot in life now”, and accepts to take her as his apprentice so long as she doesn’t cause any trouble

that was the peaceful route

kaede could also fight fire with fire

just hound down lunatic instead of yuri and when she finds him it’s on sight. chuck a whole fireball to catch his attention and demand that he takes her as his apprentice. idk maybe threaten to fight him mono e mono unless he complies.

lunatic would probably just ghost her lmao

but she’d continue to show up whenever he’s raring to kill a murderer so maybe he’ll accept because it’s getting more disruptive if he doesn’t

if anything, her persistence would impress him somewhat: she’s determined, and even when she’s only had the flames for like, what? 3 days? she can already control it well enough to shoot projectiles. she has potential and would be a helpful ally instead of burdening him.

the chaotic crackhead route is for kaede to somehow get her hands on yuri’s address and bully him until he listens to her

just show up outside his room at 3 am, eyes glowing, floating 3 feet from the ground. hell, t-pose outside his window.

terrorise him.

she’d play loud music or shout at him day in day out

she may even follow him to work and just pester him

constantly asking him to mentor her so she can have her revenge, poking and prodding about his secret night job as lunatic

kaede will leave mama petrov alone this doesn’t concern her

her beef isn’t w mama petrov

ever since that encounter, yuri has not known peace

yuri has 2 ghosts to deal with

that’s 2 too many

he’s gonna take one out

the minimum age of criminal responsibility in japan is 14, while in new york it’s 18 (thanks google)

take your pick

kaede is 10-11

so either way yuri can’t take her to jail for harassment

she’s coming out of this scott free

he snaps and literally begs her to stfu if he follows her wish :b:lease

he hasn’t slept for 34 days

regardless, kaede will come out victorious and yuri is now stuck with a child

on a more serious note, yuri’s and kaede’s agenda are the same and it just so happens that their goals align. he has been suss since day one ever since the kotetsu debacle.

in hindsight maverick really should’ve brainwashed the only judge, the person in charge of the justice bureau, the curator who has access to the hero’s files

maybe i’m jumping to conclusion

for all i know maybe maverick also attempted to invite yuri to that announcement “party” thing

but yuri was like

« no ? fuck off »

and went on his way

yuri wants to look oddly menacing in his basement dungeon thing

and maverick brushed it off because he didn’t think yuri was lunatic, or a next one the first place

we know that yuri learns that maverick is behind all of this and is probably a next on his own, but decides against taking action. i suppose in canon because he knows it’s not his battle to see through, but in the au maybe because he knows he’s fighting a losing battle. also he kinda injured his arm after being shot by H-01, so he doesn’t want to fight with a handicap.

he doesn’t want to take any rash action and cause more problems for himself.

potentially putting his whole secret identity scheme in jeopardy.

he chooses to take a moment to regroup and plan his actual attack. he couldn’t take on 7 heroes and 1 android at once, and risk getting brainwashed too.

at first, even if working together seem to only benefit kaede, the situation also gives yuri some strategic advantages.

like once he finds out that kaede’s power is a mimic ability, not the flame ability. i feel like he’d find that hella useful

also kaede is a child who’s also basically a nobody in sternbild. she can infiltrate spaces he can’t, and not raise any suspicion.

possible denouements:

i see 3 major endings possible, with secondary endings which is just a one of the 3 major endings with some slight changes:

1. all sinners must die ending

pretty self explanatory. kaede gets her revenge: with the help of lunatic she kills barnaby and maverick, potentially killing or maiming the rest of the heroes. her father has been avenged, but the city is more or less in a panic because there are no more heroes to protect them. “faith” in the vigilante, or at least in kaede, plummets because they attacked “innocent” people. it’s possible that she brings her father’s framing to light (but not that the heroes were brainwashed), though it’s doubtful that she gets the chance after causing such an uproar.

kaede probably never learns the truth: that the heroes were brainwashed.

this may or may not leave kaede incredibly bitter and nihilistic, as even though she got her revenge she doesn’t feel any satisfaction or sense of closure. she doesn’t get any form of catharsis and probably still has a difficult time moving on and coping with her grief. the city of sternbild adopts a very cold atmosphere and regains a strong distrust towards nexts, kaede may or may not continue to be a vigilante as she’s still trapped in grief limbo, yuri has to deal with the messy aftermath.

overall, it’s probably the worst possible ending.

of schemes and double agents ending

a kinda slow burn route, i suppose? in this ending, kaede realises that the heroes are being manipulated unlike in the previous one. she decides to restore the hero’s memories one by one and getting them to secretly help her. i don’t think she could recruit everyone, but i’m thinking about those like blue rose, who seemed to remember somewhat after kotetsu’s speech thing. kaede could slowly remind them, and despite initial mistrust and animosity they would come round and realise there was a huge discrepancy in their memory.

outright rebelling against maverick would be rash and the heroes risk being brainwashed once more, so they figure they would pull the strings somewhat and provide kaede/lunatic with internal knowledge to help them.

in the epic showdownTM, when the heroes and kaede finally have a face off, barnaby (and those who weren’t approached by kaede) would experience quite a curveball: those who regained their memories would side with kaede.

safety in solitude ending

in this ending, kaede works alone (with lunatic) without having recruited the other heroes even after realising they’ve been brainwashed. perhaps because it’d be too risky just in case they get brainwashed again or that they don’t agree with the vigilante’s idea and rat them out, whatever the reason may be the duo works alone.

this will lead into an even more epic showdownTM where it’s 2 v. 8: even though the stakes are not in the duo’s favour they somehow manage to come triumphant? or maybe the heroes regain their memories one by one and decide to stop fighting, even though they don’t exactly join the duo’s side.

constants:

maverick dies. lunatic kills him. i doubt many are against the idea though.

barnaby’s memories would be the last one she “restores”: (courtesy of my friend) it would probably go something like, in a burst of anger she jumps him and gets his hundred power. as she punches at him, she tearfully confronts him about how her father must’ve felt in his last moments and how much kotetsu seemed to adore him back when he was alive.

if bunny dies (ending 2/ending 3) kaede would not feel as angry and cynical, but more regretful or grievous. she’d probably stop using her next powers to do much anything (instead of continuing to be a vigilante like in ending 1). she’ll move on eventually, with more than less difficulty. the city of sternbild is on edge, but continue to place their faith on heroes.

if bunny lives (ending 2/ending 3), kaede would get a stronger sense of closure as she would be able to dialogue with bunny. barnaby would however, feel unending grief once he realises what he has done.

regardless if bunny is dead or not, the truth is revealed to the general public along with maverick’s scheme and true intent in ending 2 and 3. so basically canon episode 25 ending except more angst and kotetsu is dead a while ago

not a constant… but it’s possible that because of lunatic’s whole code being “kill murderers and those who protect them” he’d be displeased with kaede choosing to spare bunny. maybe he’s the last boss… kaede and bunny defeat lunatic with 100 power, much like barnaby used to do with kotetsu?... nah that’s too messy and honestly i prefer lunatic and kaede to remain on peaceful terms lmao

lunatic’s satisfied with killing maverick, he’ll back off of this one—barnaby was manipulated anyway. so technically... it wasn’t his conscious decision nor his fault???

basically i don’t want kaede to fight her mentor figure, but i’m merely acknowledging the possibility.

actually…

maybe he walks up towards barnaby, the other heroes too beat up to do anything but watch while kaede remains by barnaby’s side

and lunatic just stands ominously in front of bunny, looking like he’s about to shoot him

but then he turns away

« hmph, how ridiculous. repent for the rest of your life, barnaby brooks jr. »

and then lunatic disappears in a flash, leaving a singed mark—the only proof that he had stood there.

heck, remember how she recovered the christmas pins? she could chuck those angrily at barnaby’s general direction to put emphasis.

kaede knows she’ll never be able to bring her father back, but she’d manage her grief easier. if barnaby lives, kaede would probably become a hero to honor her father and to use her power for good as her father would’ve wanted her to do.

miscellaneous

headcanons in no particular order, certainly not chronological. crack, fluff, angst, just whatever comes to mind. for ease of reading, i will try to organise them thematically.

relationships

tiger x bunny

rest in peace king, you will be missed.

kotetsu ded so the gay cannot be, rip in species.

but i’m putting this here because prior to the brainwashing they do be kinda gay tho, and even if kaede doesn’t know the exact nature of the relationship between the two she knows that her father was very fond of barnaby and cared for him deeply.

lunatic | yuri petrov & kaede

this au is pretty lunatic & kaede centric, because well,,, kotetsu kicked the bucket, and barnaby and the heroes are considered the villains here

i see lunatic and kaede having a mentor-student kind of relationship, that can be fluffy sometimes a found family trope could eventually be established, but that’s super delicate

on another note, if you really want to fuck up your 11 year old because you absolutely want to give kaede the worst possible outcomes for some reason, she could—as a young child who has lost both her parents at a very young age—develop an unhealthy dependence on this [lunatic] new authority figure. she might incorrectly interpret his concern for familial care, etc… but i’m not even going there, that’s too messy.

tbh the real tragedy would be kaede imprinting on yuri’s garbage sense of fashion… the secret to dressing well died with kotetsu.

idk if i should explicit this, but just in case: this is not a romantic ship please don’t come for my throat. literally this au was created because i wanted to see kaede start shit—just go absolutely feral and start chaos lmao

i would like snapshots of him teaching her how to control the flames better but also look out for her general well being because this kid has issues. basically give me a montage of yuri mentoring kaede and slowly becoming fond of her or give me death:

lunatic probably made his own costume so? i’d like to imagine yuri takes the time to make one for kaede too?? also he makes sure it wooshes cool in the wind and idk, flammable enough to allow her to burn the cape off before she attacks???

just yuri hand sewing some apparels for kaede uwu

also give me vaguely domestic yuri or give me death

also mayhaps, gives kaede affirming headpats?

like if she performs well and her mastery over her powers improves in leaps and bounds? or when she finally unlocks a skill she’s been struggling with for a bit?? just a proud head pat and a well-intentioned-but-cold-sounding « well done »???

maybe when kaede first actually learns how to use her powers, her emotions might get the best of her or maybe she’s plain nervous because fire = danger and scary.

and it shows because the flames grow more erratic and out of her control, and yuri grows very concerned for her well being because he doesn’t want her to get burnt like he did when he first awakened his power.

before it all degenerates, he helps calm her down and prevent his house from burning down. or wherever he goes to when he’s doing lunatic stuff…

a dungeon ?

his basement ?

my basement don’t look like that

we know where all the judge money is going: renovating the basement

much like her mentor, when she gets rlly angry her eyes burst into flames. to prevent her from getting into trouble by accidentally activating her power and injuring someone or simply revealing her identity, yuri would teach her grounding exercises or anchoring phrases that he himself uses.

idk just teach her breathing techniques to ease her anxiety or a mantra to recite if she feels like she’s gonna set someone on fire

also idk if i should give kaede a different weapon from lunatic (i know i will because the crossbow is lunatic’s aesthetic, and his only), but i like to imagine yuri teaching her how to shoot crossbows and her becoming oddly proficient at it

grandma kaburagi wondering why kaede has wicked aim all of the sudden

tbh kaede would just shoot w her hands. just pew pew finger.

or she does the kamehameha thing she did w blue rose’s power lmao

at first he kinda sees being responsible for her as a bit of a chore and annoying, but maybe he slowly grows fond of her and idk, dotes on her.

protecc the bby

help her do her homework

« i’ve only had kaede for a day and a half. but if anything happened to her, i would kill everyone in this room and then myself. »

on the flipside, at first kaede thought that yuri is hecking weird, man. just creepy suspicious prosecutor dude who she allies with because revenge girl rlly wants revenge

but he grows on her and kaede thinks he’s not so bad after all. an good authority figure whom she respects and cares for

she still probably thinks he’s hella weird tho

kinda weird but also sometimes kinda cool

eccentric but like in a good way

like your weird neighbour henry who means well despite what he says sometimes

kaede would learn his corny cool catchphrases and repeat them when she’s out and about as a vigilante.

just adopt/mimic his speech pattern of saying things slowly for more oomph

gotta do the whole code of justice and thanatos speech before she bombards barnaby with flaming arrows

yuri feels oddly proud

they’re both probably hella protective over each other tho. because that’s just kaede’s personality and yuri feels responsible for the safety of this child that he has been entrusted with.

children love sweets right? yuri secretly likes sweets. they can share sweets after setting murderers on fire uwu

idk man i just want some good mentor-apprentice relationship

it doesn’t have to always be angst

we can have fluff

maybe they can learn from each other and be semi-functional human beings

that thing where the apprentice’s outfit is like directly taken from their mentor’s but also vaguely different. i want that.

sometimes the real revenge is the friends you make along the way uwu

school + domestic life

ok so like

kaede gets big depressed because duh your dad just got murdered by his partner

and she rlly misses him and wished she was more understanding back then. she wished she spent more time w him back when he was alive

but it’s too late now and that makes her big depressed

so i feel like for the first few weeks/months after her father’s death, kaede wouldn’t go to school?? and i feel like her grandmother would understand and just like

not pester her about it and let her sort out her emotions first before talking to kaede about the elephant in the room

but also like, the school board also agrees to wait it out because the parents are kinda iffy about what has transpired

to be fair, oriental town is probably one of those small towns where everyone knows each other? so the parents/adults who know kotetsu are like??? kotetsu wouldn’t kill a person??

but the children who are more connected to the media and don’t know him personally believe that kotetsu murdered someone and deserved to be “arrested”? because why would you doubt hero tv and the heroes, they’re the good guys after all.

so when kaede found it within herself to finally go back to school, she has a rude awakening and learns that words travel fast in a small community

the other kids, not knowing any better, believed that kotetsu is a criminal w their whole chest and started all kinds of rumours on kaede

when she went to class she was greeted w her desk being pushed far away from the rest of the class, the other students steering clear from her

all sorts of nasty things were carved/marked with a sharpie on her locker and table—some others stuck paper with w the word “murderer” on it

kaede lost most of her friends and the rest of the classmates avoided her like the plague as they say vile things about her and her father

« look she’s back »

they don’t even try to hide the fact or bother to mask their voice and speak in a hushed whisper.

« they said her father killed someone, who knows what she could do »

so kaede hears everything.

« don’t get close to her, or we might end up finding your body in a ditch »

kaede doesn’t follow through, but sometimes she thinks about running away from school to escape the bullying.

« come to think of it, she was always weird wasn’t she? she’s so creepy! »

maybe at some point it gets so disruptive that kaede can’t have a functional or healthy school life due to the constant harassment and alienation, so the school board agreed to let kaede do the rest of the year through online classes or homeschooling

in a way this works out very well for kaede, because it allows her more freetime to do vigilante stuff and she gets to avoid people’s gaze.

she’s grown to dislike them, the scornful gaze of her peers and the pity from the adults.

the student’s parents always come to apologise to her, but for some reason their pity infuriates her to no end.

sadly this means that kaede isn’t as cheerful as before and becomes more closed off and reserved :(

kaede would continue to do ice skating tho

because it’s her passion

but also because she’s obstinate like that

« oh the others don’t want me here? they hate me?? they think i don’t belong on the ice??? they can go stick it, i’m gonna be amazing out of spite! »

at home kaede becomes even more protective over her grandmother, as seeing as she’s being homeschooled means she gets to spend more time w her and help her out with the housework

idk the blue flames could be handy for doing housework

oh the stove won’t light up? oh you’re gonna go get a different lighter? nice this is a convenient time to use my next power to spark the stove! when grandma is back kaede is just like « look i got it to light up, guess u didn’t have to go through all that trouble huh? » :D

since the fire doesn’t burn indiscriminately, could she, theoretically, control the heat/where it burns to make laundry dry faster???

kaede nearly gets a heart attack seeing the new scarecrow for grandma’s cabbage patch, but turns out she just found kaede’s vigilante costume laying around and didn’t think twice about it

bonus points of grandma uses lunatic himself as a scarecrow

lunatic would make an incredible scarecrow fight me

despite not being able to retrieve kotetsu’s body to bury him with tomoe, kaede often visits their family grave and the shrine in kotetsu’s room and bring them flowers.

she knows she’s just talking to air, but she likes to recount her day to her parents. about whatever she’s up to, and keeping them updated on everyone’s condition: grandma and uncle are doing well. grandma is still healthy thank god, while uncle sometimes like to joke about how his store is terribly quiet now without kotetsu around.

she tells them the whole truth, how she found lunatic and was going to avenge her father. that she was going to prove his innocence to everyone, if it was the last thing she’ll ever do.

in a bittersweet way, it comforts her somewhat that her father is finally with his wife again and that they’re both watching over her.

of next powers and secret identities

to this day, kaede is the only one who knows about yuri’s secret identity

they’re both complicit in this secret matter

schemes

this continues even after the endings

even if she became a hero she’d refuse to reveal lunatic’s real identity

it’s a matter of principle

she will always hold a great deal of respect for her mentor

schemes

on another note, i’m fixing kaede’s next power because it’s too broken and is kinda inconvenient lmao: in this au she needs actual skin-to-skin contact to assimilate someone else’s next power, so if the individual is wearing gloves or touching clothes it won’t work.

adding on to this, kaede starts wearing gloves when she’s up and about so that she can limit the amount of nexts she may unknowingly make contact with and keep her current ability [blue fire].

the power would be super useful tho. like you can make yourself disappear into a puff of flames,,, so theoretically if kaede finds herself in a situation she’d rather not be in she can just ghost you irl

« y’all ugly. boom. »

remember how kaede’s room is filled to the brim w barnaby merch???

great for target practice and for letting out your anger

also to dramatically scribble out the eyes in black sharpie to get the revenge girl aesthetic

oh man she’ll probably be sad that she snipped her father off from that one picture with barnaby

in that regard her attitude towards bunny will take a complete 180

she used to think the world of him, but now all she thinks about is crushing him under her heel

also, i know she’d imitate lunatic’s whole speech thing, but what if she repeated her father’s catchphrase to provoke barnaby?

also in homage of her dad ofc

« it’s time to let out a wild roar! »

*strikes pose*

*angery barnaby noises*

what if as time goes on it gets increasingly harder and harder to hide the fact that kaede is a vigilante.

like at first, her family is like “oh she’s grieving in her own way, let’s give her some space” and they’re surprised by how well kaede is taking it because she’s so calm, even if she’s more distant

while kaede sneaks out at night to start shit

and her grandmother starts to notice how she seems more alert and jumpy, or sleep deprived. how kaede seemed to be hiding bruises and injuries, and tries to clean her wounds herself late at night.

when asked kaede would deny everything and say she doesn’t use her next powers anymore because it freaks her out

but grandma is suss

she concerned for her granddaughter

maybe she doesn’t know about kaede’s secret identity but maybe she finds out she’s been meeting with yuri

a grandma beats up a man in his late 20s-mid 30s on live television

maybe at some point the heroes learn kaede’s real age, or assume correctly that she’s barely a teen and they’re like

is lunatic forcing you to do this ?

you don’t have to do something you don’t want to

it’s not too late for you if you give up

when rlly this was all kaede’s choice in the first place, not even lunatic’s

and that assumption rlly makes kaede angry, because their inactivity led to her father’s death and forced her hands

so it’s not their place to act like they’re concerned for her and her safety

just rlly distrust and dislike the heroes

has a strong disdain for them

real talk, but kaede doesn’t know that the heroes were brainwashed. that’s why she’s able to be so ruthless against them, because she thinks they’re evil and working for some big conspiracy while playing a helpful and friendly front.

but when/if she does learn the truth? the kotetsu factor jumps out.

they aren’t acting as if they were the good guys, they rlly think that they are because to them they just took out another criminal and not their longtime friend.

she’ll have an inner conflict. because on one hand, the heroes don’t know any better and are being manipulated so it would be cruel to punish them so harshly. on the other hand, they got her dad killed and for that she wants to inflict them as much pain and grief as they have caused her.

the kotetsu factor would keep her going tho. now she’s determined to not only clear her father’s name, but also restore everyone’s memory, because it’s the right thing to do.

but now everytime she has to face them and fight, she feels a slight hesitancy and feels sorry for them.

mayhaps blue rose as double agent ???

origami got big double agent potential, but he wasn’t having any of kotetsu’s shit so alas

another important character we gotta talk about: h-01

hear me out

so the android isn’t built with a voice box so it can’t speak. it don’t got any acoustics. but because of maverick’s brainwashing, when the heroes talk to the empty air they hear “tiger’s” response, which is purely borne from their own psychosis.

h-01: …

barnaby: perfect idea tiger, you can cover me

rock bison: who is that guy?

h-01: …

rock bison: yeah they look very suspicious to me too…

h-01: …

barnaby: i know!

anyway, it’s very weird and surreal to watch

just the heroes having a very one sided conversation

lunatic and kaede don’t know what to make of it and finds it really bizarre, because they know the android isn’t saying anything at all

yet the heroes are convinced he’s communicating with them

so maybe if kaede manages to restore someone’s memory, they start to notice that “tiger” doesn’t actually talk. he never did this whole time.

and it gets hard to come up with a response and pretend he answered them.

the restored heroes also find it super creepy how it’s just silent and watching, how the others seem to think that the robot can speak.

maybe this will cause some suspicion amongst the heroes (who will brush it off) and maverick, and the restored hero will have to pretend to still be brainwashed to not get manipulated a second time

basically h-01 is creepy and just generally not fun to be around

illustration

edit: thank you @kyarymell for cleaning the sketch up on photoshop ;w;

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

#tiger & bunny #kaede kaburagi #yuri petrov #kotetsu t. kaburagi #barnaby brooks jr #taibani #wild tiger #au #falselywrites #im oddly invested inthis silly au #i just #want to see kaede start chaos #and yuri being a mentor figure #i am easily pleased #pls #i'll probably make a reference of kaede sooner or later...#desolation!au

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sukirichi · 3 years

Note

Okay, I chose to make the fonts smaller because I feel like my asks are taking so much space 😅

I'm glad that you finally moved to a warmer room! And thank you for understanding, i don't think you are scary but just the idea of talking to creators in this site directly is just intimidating? In a way it feels like I am also talking to a celebrity? Idk. 😅 Ohhh i'd definitely join your server if ever you make one and idc a lot about the name.

And omg? You are asian? OMG you're writing is so freaking good that I thought you're a native speaker. If it's okay to ask, what country are you from? I'd probably lose my mind if we're from the same country agdhffllglg.

Anyway, I just read a fic with that premise, I sent it with my other recs last time and it's called Expecting by j0succ. You can find it in the tags if you'll search and in ao3 too. Yeah, I feel like he'd be very possessive and protective but imagine if it's unrequited at first and he simply hates you and then suddenly, you're pregnant with a child and a son no less? I can see him slowly just melting at the idea that you're going to give him an heir and probably someone who'll further cement his place as the next Zenin head. And I also hate having kids but if it's Naoya (or Toji), I'd be willing 🤤.

Ohhhhhhh!!!!! Fratboy senpai Sukuna's going to be v toxic for sure! Maybe you are a freshie or a transferee who just wanted to socialize in their frat party and you just caught his eye? And he's the resident fuckboy in the uni and he's tired of all these old students and he just wants some new blood to corrupt? But ugh, another college au I'd like to read is bestfriend's brother?

OH MY GOD, i am sorry if this is very long!!!! I decided that I might send the other recs through google docs instead because I don't want to annoy your other followers because my asks are taking too much space in the dash. But it's also very tempting to just come out of anon and dm you because you're so nice 🥺. I'll send them soon, I think maybe within this week? I'll be having my paper defense on Wednesday so I'll be busy. 🌸

FLOWER ANON! AH YEAP BUT I CANT STAY IN THE WARM PLACES FOR TOO LONG CUZ I HAVE LOW HEAT TOLERANCE AND I WILL PASS OUT IF I DO 😭 Oh I see, I understand that bb! I cannot speak for others but as a content creator, I do not mind at all if people talk to me! I just take long to reply but I hope that doesn’t make people think that I hate them or somth 😭 Oh yea, we’re setting the server up rn, I think we’ll be adding people soon but uhhh I would need you to dm me if you wanna join because it’s invite only, only if you’re okay with it tho! No pressure at all!

Well I’m half-Asian! I’m also European so yea lol, but my asian mother mostly runs the household so I would say we applied more Asian cultures than our European counterpart. And aaa so sorry, I don’t tell people where I’m from 🥺 I MEAN, IM FROM THE ZEN’IN ESTATE LMAO. LMAOOO I ACTUALLY DONT SPEAK MY MOM’S ASIAN LANGUAGES VERY WELL I am quite a disappointment since I studied 6 languages in language school but I can’t really communicate well with her mother tongue. My first language is actually English!

And UGH YESSS NAOYA GOING SOFT AND MELTING ONCE HE REALIZES YOU’RE CARRYING HIS CHILD AND HE GROWS PROTECTIVE AND EVEN CARING 😫😫😫 PLEASE WE GON BE CARRYING THEIR WHOLE LINEAGES AH 😫😫😫 omg thats such a good idea too! Like you’re the “fresh meat” and Fratboy! Sukuna is sooo interested in you like you are such a curious, innocent person and he just wants to show you around 😏 CORRUPTION KINK IS MASSIVE WITH THIS ONE. BEST FRIENDS BROTHER!!! Sukuna as reader’s besties older brother and her bestie is like UGH my brother is the worst dont get involved with him and reader is like “no worries, i have no interest in frat boys” but then they meet Sukuna and they go like UHM 👁👄👁

And awww bb don’t apologize, its really okay! I’m the one you’re talking to and not my followers, they can unfollow if they're annoyed by this 😛 awww bb whatever you want, I would be cool for it! Your comfort comes first! My DM’s are open though I take forever to reply tho 🥺 Oh okay okay, good luck on your defense paper bb, I wish you the best of luck! Remember to drink water and take plenty of breaks! Lots of love bubs 😘😘💕💕💕

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #anon:🌸

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

Backalley Brawl | myg | M

This is....just as unedited as 666 medici lmao, but! Here, have this! It takes place in the same universe as the 666 medici drive fic, so this is the same MC, just...with a different friend lol. I'm lowkey hype because the more people you meet in this verse, the more I get to play with them, and they're some of my favorite characters I've ever come up with.

Also shoutout to @strawbxxymilk bc its her birthday!!! I was going to write a jungoo fic for it, bUT NO im not gonna, i decided to be benevolent and let the renkook agenda stay on hold for a single day :)))

Word Count | 3.5k, I think?

Warnings | This is pure pwp, I'm not kidding, absolute filth. Semi-public sex, deepthroating, facefucking, gagging, yoongi’s kind of a dom??, unprotected sex (ur not a vampire or a werewolf, wrap your johnsons), rough sex i think, breeding kink, f masturbation (kind of?), cumplay, mention of knots, yoongi got a phat ****, degradation, i think thats it?? Idk tbh my brains p fried from finishing this

The smell of wet dog has been following you all night; from when you got up and went to Joon’s shop to tease him a little while ordering an arrangement, to the store to order food for your pet, the club to handle some business and find a satisfying meal, and even now as you wander the sidestreets and backalleys in an attempt to either lose your apparent shadow or draw them out. You aren’t scared or even apprehensive - you’re just annoyed, because the scent lingers in your throat and there’s very little that’s worse than the smell of werewolf.

You stop in a darkened alley, one hand on your hip as the other fishes your phone out of your dress pocket. There’s not a single soul nearby from what you can tell. Everyone that isn’t sequestered in their homes and beds is packed into the clubs and bars a few blocks away. The scent gets as closer than it’s dared to all night, probably only arm’s length away from you; the hints of woodsmoke and sap tell you everything you need to know.

[You, sent: ] Is there a reason you’re hiding in the shadows, pup, or are you just going to be creepy all night?

Behind you, a text tone dings through the air followed by a muffled curse. You hear a sigh, and then footsteps.

“Oh good, so you aren’t going to be creepy all night,” You tell him without turning around.

“You could’ve just texted me hours ago if you knew I was following you.” His voice is muffled slightly, but there’s no mistaking the pout in it.

“And you could’ve just called like I told you to instead of being weird, but alas, we both chose different paths in life.” When you turn, your struck not for the first time at how soft the werewolf in front of you looks.

He’s one of the smallest werewolves you know. They all tend to be rather large and imposing, but not him. No, he carries his power in the way he stands, relaxed and lazy no matter what’s in front of him because he knows it’s not a threat. The power he holds in the long fingers is but a millisecond away, and everything about him screams that he is all too aware of it.

The thought makes your stomach flip and heat sink low between your thighs.

His nostrils flare ever so slightly, and you have no doubts he can smell your train of thought. He adjusts ever so slightly, flipping the black wavy hair out of his eyes and adjusting the red plaid flannel he’s got tossed on over a nondescript black shirt. He’s more fidgety than usual today, and your eyes narrow.

“Why didn’t you just call, Yoongi?” You ask as you take a single step closer to him. His muscles tense ever so slightly.

“You remember what happened last time,” He mutters. “Didn’t want a repeat.”

That’s fair , you think. It still doesn’t explain why he decided to stalk you through the night when he could easily have just approached you in one of the several secluded places you’d been.

“I-” He cuts himself off before he can get more than a word out, and when he brings a hand up to fiddle with the choker around his neck, you notice that he’s shaking slightly. You take another step toward him, and he mirrors you by taking a step back. You look closer.

His black shirt is slightly damp at the neck, and the sleeves of his flannel are in tatters from where he’s picked at them with his claws. There’s not much light in the alley where you stand, but with your enhanced vision you can see the way his pupils are shrinking and dilating rapidly. The barest hint of a fang worries at his lower lip.

You’ve never seen him so out of control of his shift before, and it almost worries you. Not only because, against all odds, you care just a bit for this werewolf, but also because out of control werewolves are dangerous even to vampires. You’re confident in your abilities, but you know better than to think you can take down a fully trained, mature, crazed werewolf like Yoongi on your own.

“Should I call someone for you?” You ask. You manage to keep your usual bored tone in your voice, but if he could pay attention, the tight grip on your phone would give you away in heartbeat.

“Yes, I mean, no, it’s not-” He huffs. “No, that’s why I came to you. I didn’t get to Joon in time, y’know, it hit early, and now I’m, uh, I don’t have the-” He huffs again, running long fingers down his temple.

“I’m in rut,” He eventually spits out. Heat floods you at the words; you’ve been with werewolves in rut before, you know what it’s like for them. The need to claim and breed, to ensure their line continues, constantly at war with the want most ‘wolves have to not hurt anyone around them. It’s why Namjoon created his signature potion, a concoction to stave off the need so long as it was taken before all of the symptoms set in.

Yoongi has been precise about taking it ever since you met him, content to live his life without a mate until he met someone he loved enough to want children with. You’ve never seen him this out of his mind, and yet the fact that he can stand here and have a conversation with you while his instincts scream at him to do anything else is only another testament to his control.

It only makes you wetter, and you can tell by the way he groans and his nostrils flare once again that he knows the effect.

“So you thought you’d come to me?” You ask as you slip your phone back into your pocket. Yoongi’s gaze hardens slightly, the muscles in jaw working as he bites back whatever retort he had in mind. “Or, rather, you thought you’d come for me?”

Yoongi steps away again as you step forward, and you cock a brow at him.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, okay, Meds?” You stifle a laugh at the shortened form of your nickname; Medici was kind of a mouthful for the younger generations. It’s sweet that he’s so thoughtful, though. “I just...some of the others have mentioned that you’re good for this, what with all the…” His hand waves through the air, gesturing at all of you for a moment before he makes fangs with his fingers.

“What with our uncooperative biology and my love of roughness,” You finish for him.

“Yeah,” He responded lamely. “Yeah, that. I just don’t want you to think that you have to do this. Because you don’t. I just don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop if you say yes without you making me.”

His thoughtfulness brings a fresh wave of arousal, paired with the realization that he believes you could control him even in rut. You step forward again and he maintains his distance until his back hits the wall of the alley. You don’t stop, though, getting close enough that you feel his breath mix with yours when his lips part ever so slightly.

He stifles a soft moan, no doubt able to taste your arousal on the air with how enhanced his senses must be at this point. You run a finger down his sweat-soaked chest; the hitch in his breath only cements your decision.

“Who said I would want you to stop?”

Yoongi groans, low and deep in his throat, and you smile at the sound.

"Only if you're sure," He mutters. You don't dignify his words with a response. Instead, you slide a hand under his flannel and along the edge of his black shirt, teasing at the hem with your fingers. They ghost along the thin strip of skin you can see, and his eyes flutter closed.

"I'm sure, pup," You whisper. The growl he gives in response isn't something you hear; it's just felt. In the tips of your fingers as they hook under his joggers, in the flip of your stomach, and in the way you can feel the damp cloth of your underwear sticking to you.

"I am not," He growls, one hand moving to tangle in your hair and push you to your knees. "A pup." Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you tug lightly on his waistband, and you stifle a moan when you realize he's not wearing anything underneath. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you closer to the hard length hidden behind the soft material of his joggers.

"Fuck, Yoongi," You whisper, already mouthing along the outline of his cock.

"Get to work." His words ring in your ears as you pull firmly down and reveal his shaft in all its glory. You've had longer - Taehyung and Namjoon are both exceptionally gifted there - but you doubt anyone could match the girth Yoongi sports.

You wrap a hand around him and slide slowly upwards, committing the relieved sigh he releases to memory. There's a wide gap between your thumb and the rest of your fingers, further proof that he has the girth to make up for any lack of length, and you give it a soft kitten lick.

Yoongi cuts his groan off before it can even start, but his hips buck into you. You grin and look up at him before licking a stripe all the way to his head. His jaw tenses and the hand not tangled in your hair grips the wall behind him hard enough that some of the brick crumbles.

He sucks in a harried breath when you wrap your lips around him; your jaw already aches from the stretch, but you can’t find it in yourself to care because when you look up at him again, his fangs are digging into his bottom lip and his eyes are clenched shut. You tease him for just long enough that he looks down at you, a demand written in the way his lip curls upwards. With no further warning, you slide down him, taking his entire length into your mouth.

He chokes on a moan and stuffs the side of his hand between his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet. His hips are moving the barest amount against you, and you can’t help but be impressed that he’s still so in control.

You want to see him lose it.

You lick your way off of his cock before sliding back down, letting the flat of your tongue run along the vein as you do. You repeat the motion, letting the very tip of his cock hit your throat before you hum around him and bring one hand up to grip his balls. His hand tugs lightly on your hair and you resist for a single second before you let him pull you off.

“Fuck, if you keep doing that-”

“You’ll cum?” False sweetness coats your voice, and it makes his expression twist in a snarl. “And here I thought you’d last longer than the others.”

“You want me stuff that mouth of yours so full you can’t talk? Because I will,” He tells you. You cock a brow and grin.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Yoongi.”

You’re turned before you know it, back against the brick wall while Yoongi’s free hand moves to stroke lightly along your jaw. It’s everything you can do not to nuzzle into the calloused pads of his fingers and you’re glad you resist when his grip hardens and he pulls your jaw down.

You let him slide his cock between your lips, precum smearing along your lips as he does. He’s heavy on your tongue. It’s intoxicating.

“Your mouth is so good like this, baby,” He says as he begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. “So wet and perfect, you know that? Can’t talk back with your mouth stuffed full of cock, can you?” You hum around him and his thrusts start coming faster and deeper. He’s just long enough that tip of his cock hits the back of your throat each time.

You can taste him on your tongue and his pre-cum drips down your throat with every thrust. One hand stays buried in your hair, keeping your head in place against the wall as he fucks your face, and the other moves to support his weight. A quick glance tells you his eyes are focused on where his cock disappears between your lips, mouth hanging open just barely as he pants and groans.

“God, you take it so well,” He pants. “Like it was just made for me.” You clench around nothing at his words; it’s not the first time you’ve heard them, by far, but fuck if you don’t love it every single time. A smile plays out over his lips, highlighting the sharp canines that you love. You can feel a growl building in his throat and you can’t resist the temptation to make him verbalize it.

You tighten your lips around his shaft and hollow your cheeks at the same time that you swallow around him. His rhythm stutters and he pulls out of your mouth in a rush, free hand darting down to wrap around the base.

“You’re such a little bitch,” He hisses. His vice grip on his dick doesn’t lessen even as he pulls you up to your feet and spins you around. His hand disappears from your hair, both of them running up your thighs to push your dress up so he can squeeze the meat of your ass. He slaps it once before a tearing sound fills the air and your underwear falls to the ground. "Gonna teach you to have some respect, baby."

His cock slides into you easily and you can't stop the moan that tears from your throat. The stretch burns in the most delicious way; there's little resistance as he pulls out, and the way he sinks back into your heat has your nails scraping against the brick wall.

"Fuck, Yoongi," You whimper. He chuckles at that and snaps his hips into you again and again. Your moans echo off the alley walls, and only seem to spur him on. He's completely unforgiving, ramming into you quicker and harder with each passing second.

"Yeah, that's it," He mutters, fingers digging to your hips. "Fucking take this cock, baby, you're so good for me, yeah? Sucked my cock so good I almost came, and now your sweet little pussy's gonna milk me dry. You want that?"

You whimper, rolling your hips back to meet his bruising pace. He doesn't hold back and you have no doubts that were you a regular human, you'd be bruised beyond belief at the way he fucks you.

You aren't a normal human, though, and you're thriving with how hard he fucks you into the wall.

You clench around him and draw the first real moan you've heard from him. He runs a hand up the curve of your back, making you shiver slightly, and a particularly hard thrust has your walls fluttering around him.

"Can't fucking wait," He moans. "Gonna flood you full of my cum, coat you with it. Everyone you see is gonna smell it on you, they're all gonna know just how good you've been fucked."

"Yes," You moan, "Yoongi, please, do it, please."

He grips your thighs tight and spins you around, barely pulling out for a second before he's picking you up. Your ankles cross behind him as your back hits the wall and he slams into you once more.

"Fuck yes, baby," He moans, leaning forward to mouth at your neck. "Gonna breed you so good, fill you so full of my cubs, like a good little bitch." He doesn't miss the way you moan and his teeth dig sharply into your skin. "You like that, don't you? You want everyone to know how good you are, how you take me like a bitch in heat. Fuck, you're so wet, you know that? Wet and hot and fucking perfect for me, the best fuck of my life."

"Yes, Yoongi, please, I'm good, I want it," You pant.

"Say it," He demands. "Tell me what you want from me."

"I want you to cum," You moan, clenching around him again. You've been with enough werewolves in rut to know what he wants to hear, and you're so cock-drunk that you don't even have the fochs to tease him about it. "I want you to breed me, fill me with your cubs, wanna be yours."

Yoongi curses and his thrusts shorten until he's just grinding his hips against yours. The pressure against your g-spot is just enough that you're starting to tip over the edge, but you hold it back. You want to cum after him.

"Shit, you're such a perfect little bitch for me," Yoongi groans. "So perfect and sweet, can't wait to see you dripping in my cum."

You chance a glance at him and nearly cum on the spot at the sight of red ringing his irises. You're instantly reminded of the power behind his grip, the way he could tear you apart right now if he really wanted to, if he wasn't distracted by the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

Your hands dig into his hair and pull him into a hard kiss. Your mouth hits his in a clash of teeth and tongue, both of you too fucked out to care as he grinds and swells inside of you. Your hands move down, pushing at him until he slides out. The sudden emptiness makes you ache but you're on a mission. You also don't want to be stuck against a wall in an alley for however long it takes his knot to deflate.

"What-" Yoongi whimpers, doing his best to claw you back to him. You grin and drop to your knees again, sliding him into your mouth once more. It's more of a stretch now that his knot is swelling but it's worth it for the way he slides himself to the very back of your throat before pulling out.

"I want to taste you," You tell him as you wrap your hand around him and start to slowly stroke. "I want to watch you cum down my throat and watch me swallow it all." His breathing turns ragged and there's a high-pitched whine in the air that you aren't sure he knows he's making. You look up at him, wide eyed and pouty. "Please?"

Yoongi curses briefly before he thrusts his cock into your mouth again. You can feel the pressure building and you set to work, bouncing your head on his shaft and letting your tongue flick into the seam and lap up pre-cum before swirling back down around him to the base. His arms are braced on the wall behind you and he doesn't move at all.

His knot swells even bigger and catches briefly on your teeth, and the noise he makes sends you over the edge. You slide your fingers down to rub circles into your clit, hips rolling into the touch. Yoongi must smell it, or maybe he looks up and sees it, you aren't sure - your nose is buried in the patch of hair between his thighs as you gag around him - but he moans. It's loud and vibrates through his body and into yours, and it makes your orgasm wash over you in a wave of white. Yoongi chokes on another moan and he nearly explodes in your mouth.

It seems never ending; his cum shoots down your throat, and it just keeps coming as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth. It collects on your tongue, and with his next thrust, you can feel it drip down your lips and chin to land neatly on your chest. You're glad he wasn't deep enough to get truly stuck in your mouth - though that could've been fun.

Eventually, Yoongi settles. His chest heaves with the force of his orgasm, and his eyes haven't changed from the deep red.

"You...fuck," He whimpers as he tucks himself back into joggers. He winces a little at the friction against his still decreasing knot and helps you to your feet, straightening your dress as best he can. "C'mon."

You raise an eyebrow and look down at where he's laced his fingers with yours. The red in his eyes brightens ever so slightly as he tugs you forward, free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

"Just where are we going?" You ask quietly, nose brushing lightly against his.

"My place," He responds easily. "Gonna eat you out until you cum as much as I did, and then I'm gonna fuck you as hard as you know I can."

The appeal of his secluded cabin must be clear on your face, because he's whisking you out onto the street and towards his home before you can even respond. A quick glance shows no sign the two of you were even there, save for your ruined panties on the ground and deep gouges in the brick.

#yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #werewolf yoongi #vampire reader #reader insert #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #ddaenggtan

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mountain-ash-and-rusted-iron · 4 years

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this is an oc masterpost of all my haf-formed ocs languishing on pinterest with their messy aesthetics and unedited blurbs, in roughly chronological order of their creation, plus sorted by fandom. this post is only asoiaf, harry potter, hunger games, and riverdale, cos i have tooooooo many original characters otherwise and the post was getting incredibly long. (note that i love my ocs but these one’s are not polished or even the final versions of their characters, i just wanted to post them lol)

under a read more, if you’re on mobile start scrolling i guess, sorry,,,

Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire:

Laeya Targeryen: (child of Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen, born 280 AC - three years older than Danaerys)

Fearful of her impending marriage, Laeya is eleven when she takes her younger sister and flees across the sea to Dorne, hiding herself and Dany with dyed hair and badly controlled magic. As Leia and Dani Sand they learn to live normally. At 15 Leia joins the Royal Guard and secures Dany work as a tailor's apprentice. When she is 17, an assassin tries to kill her in front of the Dornish court and everything changes...

- so laeya straight up has magic, which im considering an extension of the dragon thing dany has - she can control flame and for the disguise uses her ‘inner fire’ to make her eyes white-blue like super hot flames, cos the purple eyes are super distinctive. and then she’s discovered and suddenly politics are happening. honestly she’s entirely a way for me to remove the child marriage bits of the targaryen storyline (stop marrying off your twelve-year-old baby sister viserys u asshole) - in terms of meta/basics, laeya doesn’t have a fc cos most of my early ocs don’t, and bcs i picture her as emilia clarke with faked dark hair and blue eyes lol

and a quick aesthetic below:

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Kyrra Snow: (child of Robert Baratheon and Maery Snow, birthdate ???)

Kyrra Snow is the eldest natural-born child of Robert Baratheon, current King of Westeros, and daughter of Maery Snow, a Southron (but Northern-born) merchant woman. After her mother realises Kyrra was growing up a little too much like her father in looks and needed to leave the far South before she caught the wrong sort of attention, Kyrra was sent off to travel with her aunt and cousins. She is 17 and heading further north, to Winter Town, when Jon Arryn dies.

- kyrra’s another child of everyone’s favourite asshole king, and she’s got a lot of people after her head, but she just wants to travel and continue her work as a simple peddler. (riiip poor girl) honestly she’s not that developed but yolo -

aes:

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Brynn Stark: (child of Catelyn and Eddard Stark, Robb’s twin sister)

Brynn believes in honour and family, and she is loyal to Winterfell and the North above all else. Likes - archery, embroidery and weaving. Betrothed to [some young Northern lord] to keep the bonds between the Norther families strong.

-i basically made brynn as a contrast to sansa’s pro-southnness and excessive femininity and arya’s anger and desire for swords (relatable mood tho lmao). so brynn is here to mediate, extoll the virtues of both needlework and weapons, make a decent marriage to someone she likes, if not loves, and hold down the fort in the North while shit gets increasingly messier in the South. and a possible faceclaim is Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey -

aes:

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Rosienne Lannister: (child of Joanna and Tywin Lannister, born 273 AC)

Rose is looked at by the realm with dismissal, a consolation prize for her father, a spare daughter only useful for matchmaking, but at least able-bodied and pretty, unlike her brother. After a long betrothal, Rose is married to Willas Tyrell at the age of eighteen, cementing her role as the next Lady of High Garden...

- Rosie/Rose is a bonus Lannister, bcs why not. likes cyvasse and the harp, soft and kind and maternal, powerful in her own way. originally she was from a minor divergence where joanna survives tyrion’s birth and goes on to have another kid, but not sure if i’ll keep that aspect, so for now she’s tyrion’s twin -

and her aes (yes that quote is cropped, no i don’t care rn):

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honourable mentions to my other got underdeveloped got/asoiaf ocs who need more effort before i post properly about them:

Tamlen Storm, a rookery apprentice (working for the Maester of House Tully, managing the ravens) who may or may not be a reincarnated si-oc trying to save westeros,

and an unnamed northern huntress who stumbled into the plot somehow and wants her normal life back (entirely inspired by Keira Knightley as Gwyn in Princess of Thieves, when she’s doing archery stuff and looking v butch).

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Harry Potter:

Taurus ‘Ara’ Lestrange: (child of Bellatrix and Roldolphous Lestrange, born 1978)

Raised by the Goblins after a legal mix-up following her parents' imprisonment in Azkaban, Taurus is good with a sword and aiming to be the next Minister of Magic. She attends Hogwarts with the other magical kids her age, under the fake identity Ara Burke, unknown cousin of a minor half-blood family. When the Potter brat’s drama starts destroying her change at an education just as her fourth year, her OWL prep year, begins, Ara intervenes.

- im tangentially aware that as bellatrix’s kid she’s almost occupying the place of whats-her-name from the cursed child, but considering that i know nothing about the cursed child and don’t care about it anyway, i have elected to ignore this. her actual parent might turn out to be some smitten half-blood from a minor branch of the Greengrass family, or it might actually be Rodolphous, who knows. slightly inspired by the fic ‘Harry Crow’ (by robst on ff.net) where harry is raised by the goblins -

messy aes:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Valerian Potter: (child of Lily and James Potter, born 1980)

After the Potter twins’ parents are murdered by Voldemort, they’re dumped on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive. Dealing with two traumatised magical orphans, Petunia and Vernon Dursley turn to violence and neglect to stay in control, acting far more harshly than expected. With the arrival of two Hogwarts letters, life gets complicated incredibly quickly. (Self-sufficient and scarred from abuse, Val and Harry are immediately Sorted into Slytherin).

- val’s fic is basically an angst fest, okay,,, -

aes:

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and shout-outs to: holly addison potter, a half-baked reincarnation si-oc (i love that concept a lot, can u tell) and my fav girl thea dursley, who already has her own fic and so isn’t getting a proper spot in this post

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The Hunger Games:

Asher: (District Two, age 18)

[rip no blurb for asher]

-asher is a career from two, who wins the 70th games. mostly im focusing on her recovery and how the games function in two, with training volunteers and mentoring and collecting sponsors, plus eventually the rebellion. lots of the D2 headcanon i have is inspired by @/lorata but i defintely made a distinct effort to have my own stuff, cos where’s the fun in plagiarism -

aes for Asher’s Games:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rowan Everdeen: (District Twelve, age 19)

Rowan will do anything to protect her family. This extends to going to Head Peacekeeper Cray on a cold winters night, charging the most she can get for her virginity. It extends to Reaping Day, when she steps out in front of the crowd and says “I volunteer as tribute” in the steadiest voice she can muster. It extends to clawing her way out of the Arena, bloody and exhausted, with blades in her hands and violence kept tucked behind her teeth. It extends further, to a simple ‘Yes, President Snow’ when he coldly, carefully implies her family might meet with an accident if she doesn’t play the good little Victor (and fuck the people who pay the Capitol for her company). It extends to joining the Rebellion, to looking President Coin directly in the eye and agreeing to be a Mockingjay, a symbol for the people to rally around.

- another everdeen kiddo! as the big sister, rowan volunteers for prim, and goes through the Games - she’s a healer and a hunter, and a decent enough actor that she can manage interviews and a camera presence, unlike katniss. rowan also pairs well with a minor au i have, where the reapings are spaced out over a week and official training is a longer, giving the capitol a nice, long buildup to get excited and place bets, etc., and giving the poor, underfed tributes from the outer districts a better chance, which makes for more interesting television and better Games -

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Adrasteia Crane: (The Capitol, age 28) Unlike her big brother, Adrasteia doesn’t want to be a Gamemaker. Instead, she wants to create clothes, artwork, to enrapture the Capitol. She wants to be a Games stylist. After years of design school, of working her way up the ranks, first a PA’s assistant, and then fetching and carrying for Twelve’s prep team, and then eventually on a prep team for the dull tributes from Six, Adrasteia Crane finally has what she wants - the position of stylist for District Three’s male tribute in 74th Hunger Games.

- tbh adrasteia is only seneca crane’s sister because i couldn’t think of a suitable last name for her lmao. i think i’d actually prefer her to be unattached to any major canon players. however, his death is a good motivation for her to join the rebellion, so we’ll see. she’s got a bit of the capitol fashion thing going too, with soft pink hair and diamond-effect skin on her face and shoulders -

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also bonus hunger games content: another oc, Sarsaparilla Verran, from District Eleven, fifteen and alone when she goes into the Games. An orphan, her siblings lost to the Community Home system years ago, her relatives dead or uncaring. So, Rilla is a wee lonely bab tbh. she did not want this, unlike most of my other hg ocs, and she’s not excited for weeks of murder. she just wants her family back, but since that isn’t possible, she’ll build a new family instead. and uuhhhhh, spoiler alert, she dies before she can have this ://///

and my hunger games aus - a canon divergence where katniss joins the careers instead of peeta, her desire to go home to her family outweighing her reactive hate for the concept of training/volunteering to kill other teens, and a fem!Haymitch au where she’s a little wiser to the dark side of the capitol before she commits acts of rebellion (she still rebels anyway tho, just smarter).

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Riverdale:

Cat Cooper: (middle child of Alice and Hal Cooper) Cat Cooper (17) is the black sheep of the Cooper family. Her piercings, brightly dyed hair and connections to the Southside Serpents make her the odd one out among her sisters and constantly at odds with Alice Cooper. Cat’s life is occupied with her Serpent friends, work at a local coffee shop, and training - martial arts, supplemented with cross country, gymnastics and swimming. Until her older sister is shipped off to places unknown and her baby sister starts getting caught up in murder investigation with the absent Serpent heir...

- haven’t decided between Catelyn or Catherine for Cat’s full name lmao. she used to be Kit, actually, but I changed it cos i prefer Kit to solely be my divergent oc (kit serafim). Cat is an ADHD disaster who loves her sisters and her friends and wants to get the hell out of Riverdale on a sports scholarship (she does either boxing or karate mainly, need to figure that bit out) -

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Georgie Andrews: (child of Mary and Fred Andrews)

Georgie likes soft drinks, cheerleading, and hanging out with the Blossom twins and Polly Cooper, their closest friends and a welcome distraction from their own problems. After Polly and Jason vanish, Georgie’s support system is almost gone, and they has to deal with everything they’ve been bottling up, just in time for Fred Andrews to get shot.

- also just angst ngl. so georgie’s gender is basically ???, they enjoy cheerleading and not much else. they spend half their time dealing with depression, by trying to ignore stressful/hard topics and focus on the good side of everything. this isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism and has the fun side effect of pissing of the people around him when she seems unable to be serious or empathetic to someone else's pain (bcs she’s too busy deflecting for the sake of her own fragile mental health), so it gets fun when fred is shot and archie starts getting in too deep with the lodges -

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Sera Thornstone: (parents ???) Southside Serpent. Going to the Riverdale Community College and running errands for FP Jones. And secretly meeting up with her Ghoulie lover down by the Sweetwater where nobody goes.

- everything about sera is vague and undecided lmao. but she has a ghoulie gf/bf/nbf? and they’re hiding that they were down by the river on the 4th of july, cos a serpent is an immediate suspect. going to community college to work on getting general credits before saving up for fancy school for law or journalism. the aes isn’t entirely accurate cos sera’s built from the remains of another serpent oc who i scrapped (she does have a baseball bat tho) -

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and honourable mentions to jen johnson and octavia blossom-murphy, my other riverdale ocs who actually have content, plus an in-development unnamed oc who gets adopted from the soqm by the Muggs family and growsup with Ethel. and my riverdale role reversal au, which i will never write but have some nice aesthetics for under the tag wip: bughead role reversal au.

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all my mini-aesthetics here are unsourced images/from pinterest. any similarities to other people or characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

alrighty that’s it. now i have to tag this behemoth argh

#ocapp #ashandrustediron ocs #ashandrustediron edits #i say edits #i mean neatly cropped screenshots #lmao #fandom: harry potter #fandom: the hunger games #fandom: a song of ice and fire #fandom: game of thrones #fandom: riverdale #ashandrustrediron writes #time to tag the ocs who will actually get content later #oc: rosienne lannister #oc: tamlen storm #tam actually has a fic outline unlike most of these other westerosi ocs lol #oc: ara lestrange #oc: asher #no last name bcs volunteers from two don't have last names #they belong to the capitol and their district #<- fun fact about that fic i guess #oc: rowan everdeen #oc: adrasteia crane #none of the riverdale ocs will get a tag bcs i already have riverdale oc fic im working on #long post #long post cw #oh and some warnings for the stuff brushed upon in the blurbs i guess #gender dysphoria #violence #child marriage

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bucciarati-pizza · 4 years

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[ Fic ] - Jumpin’ Jack Flash: Chapter 1

SO IM FINALLY POSTING THIS AFTER DANCING AROUND IT FOR AGES ///

me and my jobro @justjuliainc have been developing this AU fic together. it is a slow burn bruabba where Abbacchio remains a cop, his partner lives, and Bruno is a fisherman along with various other character swaps. and well, without saying much more, I hope you all enjoy the start of this bizarre adventure ;))

A blaring police car spun around a corner then ground to a halt at its final destination. The rain made it hard to make anything out.

“I’m searching the north wing, you do south!,” an officer yelled over the sound of crashing thunder and lightning. Two sets of shoes splashed through the mud the police car was now in. “Got it!,” the other replied back, turning on a flashlight. “You think they’re armed?”

The first officer was already pulling the gun from his belt, answering his question.

Then came the screams. Muffled like someone had covered their mouth, but still clear as ever. They echoed throughout the entire building and out into that terrible rain.

A shudder ran down both their spines. Children’s screams. This shabby abandoned looking cement building on the outskirts of town happened to be an orphanage.

They frantically ran towards the double doors.

“No one, over my dead body is getting away with this shit. Not tonight. Not ever.”

The officer that spoke had a fierce glint of gold in his eyes, illuminated by his partner’s flashlight. He wore a shade of lipstick that nearly matched the stormy night sky.

“Abbacchio.” The man turned to the sound of his name. “I second that, with all my heart.” He kicked the door in with a determined grin, his hat tipping slightly to reveal short brown hair. “Let’s put an end to this!”

Abbacchio nodded, barely having the time to reply, “I’m counting on you too, Michele!” before blindly racing up the stairs.

The sound of screaming got louder the closer he got to the top. His heart raced. The police had been investigating a strange series of kidnappings for weeks now, with no trace of the culprit. A 911 call was made from the orphanage just a half hour before now. Yet no other information was disclosed, both Abbacchio and his partner knew deep down inside exactly who it was. The same one responsible for all the recent crimes. And this time, said suspect had gone too far.

The hall seemed to never end. Abbacchio never questioned why the door he needed to burst in as soon as possible was getting further rather than closer away. Maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. He never questioned why the floor beneath his feet seemed to warp into otherworldly shapes when weight was applied. He didn’t look down.

It seemed like forever when he finally made it. Panting, he tried the door and it was unlocked. The crying ceased the instant he opened it. He had a sudden sinking feeling. “Where are they?” The sinking feeling got worse. “Where the hell are they?!” He pointed gun over flashlight across the small room and found nothing but empty beds.

Impossibile...

Not even a window was open. Just what was going on?

While searching under beds, Michele ran through the door. “I-I didn’t find a thing. I searched every room on the way here too,” he said wearily. “There’s not a single person in here.”

Abbacchio pulled himself out from the bed he was under. “I don’t understand,” he began, shaking slightly.

“Something bizarre is going on. This is the room most of the screaming came from. They were in here”

We’re too late.

His partner turned his head at another sound. It caused them both to shudder. More desperate screaming filled the dark halls of the orphanage.

They both shared a knowing glance and cautiously started for the source of the noise, covering each other’s backs. It was only two doors down. Once again, it seemed to be getting further. It took a few minutes to reach it. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of madhouse?,” Michele hissed, terrified and confused. He looked down at the floor and gasped.

“No clue, but I’m going in!,” Abbacchio replied as he charged through the door.

“Wait, Abbacchio!”

All he saw was a flash of light before the wind was knocked out of him and he fell to the hard wood floor. He lie there for a few seconds trying desperately to catch his breath, vision blurring. Two bodies tumbled over each other, in the corner of the room, one spitting out rows of curses.

“I’ll fucking kill you! Right here! Agk- I’ll...“

Abbacchio didn’t recognize that voice. Not good! He began to force himself to stand up. A gun went off.

Abbacchio’s heart skipped all it’s beats.

A gun went off and something clanked to the floor.

Abbacchio’s feet moved before his body.

“Michele! Michele!!!”

His partner was hunched over another man, unmoving. A pistol had been slid across the floor. There were bullet holes in the bookshelf in the other corner. Wait.. didn’t that mean..

Michele was only still because he was straining to hold the man’s writs down.

He missed!

“Abbacchio, I’m— sorry I had to push you out of the way so hard. I realized we were being stalked when there was a third shadow on the ground. Somehow, this bastard was behind us and was about to attack you.”

Abbacchio had no words. He panted speechless before them.

“Agh!,” his partner suddenly exclaimed.

“You thought you could catch me that easily?,” the pinned man seethed. He had taken the opportunity to spit in Michele’s eyes. “How do ya like that, eh?” He chuckled maniacally. He nearly got his hands free, when in one swift movement, Abbacchio took over, keeping him held down.

“Cazzo. Don’t dare underestimate us.”

Michele hummed in dissatisfaction once he wiped his eyes, brushing off his jacket. Abbacchio took a moment to look around the room with narrowed eyes.

The thug beneath him was scrawny, yet surprisingly strong, his blonde shoulder length hair tangled into disgusting mats. He looked to be about 30, but was probably a lot younger. He sounded hoarse when he spoke. He managed to kick Abbacchio’s leg hard, trying every mean possible to distract them and escape.

The silver haired cop had enough and roughly put both wrists into handcuffs.

“...Where are they?,” Michele wondered out loud, still looking around.

“Ow! Take it easy on me would ya?! And what the hell do you wanna know?”

Leone gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat.

“You know damn well! What happened to whoever was in this room? There.. there was screaming,” he said the last part half to himself.

The man remained silent, glaring between both of them for a second before bursting out laughing.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you! You think I’m the answer? You think you little heroes are doing society a favor by coming here?,” he shook his head, still chuckling while both officers looked on distraught.

“Well, you have no idea what you get yourself into,” he continued voice turning deep and gravely again, “When you stick your nose into places it

doesn’t belong.”

Something about the man’s words gave them both an uneasy feeling about the future. Yet, they couldn’t afford to let it bother them now. The man was eventually taken outside and shoved in the back of the police car. His gun was seized along with him and they would use that too in their upcoming investigation. They were going to get answers.

Neither Michele or Abbacchio really knew what happened that night or even how to explain it.

But a few things were hauntingly certain:

Hundreds of orphaned children had somehow vanished right under their noses.

There were no signs of the caretakers and whoever made the phone call either.

The man they captured wasn’t the ringleader in all of this. If he was, there would’ve been a much bigger show.

Abbacchio’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

And he believed that there were strange forces about.

....

“Idioti!”

Both officers jumped slightly when the hand of their chief slammed down on his office desk.

“Pardon?,” Michele asked, taken aback. Abbacchio looked just as confused.

They had been called into Signor Polpo’s office early in the morning to “discuss last night’s endeavor.”

Polpo was a sight to behold. Morbidly obese, he had to have a special chair made just for him to sit in. He towered over practically everyone at nearly 7 feet tall. No one had ever seen him without a hat, even when on a break from duty. His eyes people say, became so void of a soul that the sclera began to turn completely black. No matter what the reason was behind it, this was somehow true. Bright green irises were surrounded by a beady black that made anyone who met his gaze shiver.

Signor Polpo was the kind of man that made Leone’s blood boil.

“Did you not understand what we reported to you?,” Abbacchio asked slowly, tone dark.

The obscenity hummed briefly, looking between the two like they were mere ants beneath him before replying.

“You both became some of the force’s brightest pupils in a very short amount of time. You flew through training as if it were nothing, and I knew right away I could depend on you to... protect the streets of Napoli.”

The chief’s voice boomed throughout the tiny room and he ended that last sentence with a chuckle.

Abbacchio and Michele didn’t like this one bit. What the hell was he getting at?

“Yet...”

Polpo’s brows were furrowed.

“You had to go on and pull a stunt like this?!”

Abbacchio’s quick temper was about to show. “Wh-“

“No backup. No means of communication. Going to a useless abandoned orphanage by yourselves only to catch a petty street thug. I simply thought I knew you better.”

What?

Michele got a terrible feeling. Abbacchio saw red.

“Abandoned?..”

Polpo didn’t skip a beat. “I think you two are forgetting who decides what you get to look into and when,” he continued pointing a finger right at Leone.

Abbacchio didn’t look up. His fist was clenched at the side of his chair and his jaw was tight.

His partner looked speechless for a few seconds before trying to ask again.

“Abandoned? It.. it was an obvious kidnapping!”

That among various other things.

Abbacchio knew it was no use to bombard the chief with questions when it was already apparent what was going on.

Polpo remained poker-faced.

“I didn’t order you to go there, did I?”

“No, Capo,” replied Michele, looking away.

Abbacchio remained silent, biting his lip to keep from exploding. “They paid him off. He accepted it. They paid him off. The fat fuck is actually in on this,” was all that raced through his head.

“Did. I?,” pressured Polpo, his chair creaking as he leaned closer to Abbacchio’s face. And now he couldn’t even argue.

The officer with short grey hair looked up, his eyes furious but tone neutral when he finally answered.

“...No, Capo.”

Polpo stared at him for a few additional seconds before adding, “Good. I’m glad we can all come to that understanding.”

Abbacchio’s brows twitched. He and Michele had risked their lives continuously for the people. Last night, one or both of them could have died. Came very close, in fact. All the victims of a crime that had yet to be investigated were probably never going to be seen again and any evidence of something gone wrong would be erased. Yet, the whole time, his own chief was in on it? He knew Polpo took bribes and negotiated with criminals. He hated him for that. But this? This was way too far.

The room was dangerously silent.

Polpo narrowed his eyes. “You must understand the certain contradictions that come with this job. It’s how this world works. I expect you to await my command before even putting on your uniforms in the future.” He leaned back in his chair, upturning his long nose. “I’m only looking out for your safety.”

Michele glanced over at Leone. Uh oh.

He knew that look. Wide, twitching eyes. Biting his lip and shaking. If they didn’t get out of Polpo’s office soon, something was going to happen that would end with him beating the shit out of someone. Michele had much to discuss with his partner that wouldn’t dare be brought up in this room.

“Oh and one more thing,” Polpo started with an eerie smile. “You’ll leave this little meeting with your mouths zipped shut. What we just discussed is a secret between you and me. I can trust you... right boys?”

Silent nods.

“Excellent. You’re dismissed.”

Michele bowed customarily. Abbacchio just glared at him, such passion in his ombré eyes that Polpo read it as a warning.

Once the door was shut and their footsteps got further away, Signor Polpo picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number.

“Send me backup. They’re getting too smart for their own good.”

.............

“FUCK!,” Abbacchio yelled throwing his hat off once he and his partner got onto the street and turned the corner into an alley. “FUCK. FUCK..” He kicked it in frustration, in complete rage by now.

“I’M TIRED OF THIS,” he kicked again, “STUPID... SHIT FOR BRAINS,” more kicks, “FUCKING POOR EXCUSE OF THE POLIZIA.”

Michele stood there with a hand on his shoulder, not quite sure how he should try to begin to calm him.

“I’M TIRED OF IT. I’M,” his movements slowed and he threw himself against a wall, defeated. “..tired of it.”

He slid down against it, pulling his knees to his chest. Lost and vulnerable.

“Leone..”

His partner sighed and bent over to pick up the hat and brush it off before joining Abbacchio against the wall.

“Leo.. it’ll be okay..”

Abbacchio’s gaze remained downwards, staring blankly at the ground between his legs. He hadn’t even registered there was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You know what? You know what this feels like, Michele?”

The other officer remained silent for a moment before asking, “What?”

“It feels like we’re in the goddamn mafia.”

Abbacchio looked up.

“I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to push it to the back of my mind. But I can’t... because it’s true.”

Michele took his hat off.

“The way things are going, I have to agree with you... but..”

Abbacchio looked at him hopelessly.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t do something about it, right?”

“I don’t.. know what to do. No one is going to believe us over that pig Polpo. But I can’t let the victims die. I can’t... let these crimes continue to happen while the rest of the force sleeps on it.”

Michele nodded.

“It will be stopped. Don’t ask how, but I know.”

No words were spoken for at least a few minutes.

“Coffee?”

“Fuck, do I ever need coffee.”

“I doubt anyone will care if we stop at Libeccio before we get grounded.”

Michele smiled, helping his partner up. Abbacchio’s expression lit up. It was the name of his favorite little restaurant and it had been ages since he even stepped foot in it. He brushed himself off and put his hat back on.

“Let’s go.”

Michele did the same.

“That’s the spirit.”

....

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