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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Toxicity - ao3

- part 2 -

The situation with the Wen sect continued to deteriorate.

Not too long after finally conceding to his friendship with Lan Xichen and taking on Meng Yao as his exceedingly competent deputy, it became clear to Nie Mingjue that there was no way he could leave his sect to Nie Huaisang with the issue unaddressed. For his brother to live free and carefree as he had always wished for him, the Wen sect would need to be completely eradicated, leaving no remnants that would come back later to harm his brother, with his mediocre cultivation and laziness and desire to live a worry-free life.

If that was what it took to make Nie Huaisang’s dreams come true, Nie Mingjue would devote the few years he had left to seeing it through.

“I want you to go back to the Cloud Recesses when the war starts,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang, holding him tightly in his arms in relief after hearing the reports of the horrific indoctrination camp at the Nightless City that all the other sect heirs had been forced to go to.

Nie Huaisang had not gone.

When the request had come to the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue had told the messenger that the Wen sect could not force him to comply without starting a war, and that if they wished to do so, he would welcome it. He had activated all of the defenses he had spent a lifetime building for Nie Huaisang’s protection and refused to budge one bit on his refusal no matter how much Nie Huaisang said that it would be all right, that he would handle it, that surely it wouldn’t be so bad, that it would give them more time to prepare...

In the end, the Wen sect had backed off.

In the end, the other sect heirs had not been all right.

They been used as bait for a wretched beast in a cave. Several smaller sect heirs had died; Lan Wangji had ended up with a broken leg and Wei Wuxian with wounds all over and both of them starved half to death, Jiang Cheng with his feet bloody from running all the way back to the Lotus Pier, Jin Zixuan who’d never known a day of hardship in his life thin as a rake from vomiting up the poor food they’d served him for weeks and with a twitch in his eye from the constant ambushes they’d faced in their escape…the best and brightest of the youngest generation, and Nie Huaisang was far away from their standard.

He had been right to refuse to let him go.

“The Cloud Recesses, da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, surprised. “Not stay here?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. “Even if we can get agreement with all the other sects on a response, which I think might be possible now that their heirs were so mistreated, the Wen sect will redouble their efforts to attack us as their greatest threat. We can’t win a war by sitting inside our walls, and that means whoever is left behind here will need to protect our home against a siege with virtually no manpower.”

That person would not be Nie Huaisang. His gentle younger brother - no, even if he could, Nie Mingjue would never permit it.

"You’ll be safe at the Cloud Recesses,” he continued. “Xichen took me to tour their defenses the first time I visited. They were extremely strong, just as you’d expect from a places as reclusive as that, and those were just what they were willing to show me. It will reassure me to know that you are there and safe.”

Nie Huaisang’s shoulders slumped in silent agreement, and then a moment later he brightened. “At least I’ll be able to spent some more time with Xichen-xiong, who my da-ge likes so much…”

“You brat,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes and pulling him in for another hug. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’ll stop making fun of you when you finally confess your feelings to him! You’ve liked him for such a long time, and you’re so straightforward about everything else. Why won’t you do this?”

Nie Mingjue hesitated.

“…da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, sensitive to such things. “Is there something I should know?”

Nie Mingjue licked his lips. “It’s been getting worse,” he confessed. “The – every eight years.”

Nie Huaisang went as still as a statue.

“You know how I always spend my birthday in my room, even on off years, just in case? There was always a little pain. It used to be just a bit on the date itself – minimal most years outside the eighth, but still present – but recently...”

“Recently, da-ge?”

“Recently I’ve started having the same sorts of pain at other times, randomly,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “And after what happened at the last one…I barely survived it then. The next eight year mark…if it’s as much worse than the previous time as that time had been from the time before that, then there’s no way that I’ll make it through.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. “That’s – there’s only five more years left.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, pressing their foreheads together. “I had hoped that I would have longer.”

It didn’t seem fair that he was doomed to lose his mind at the age of thirty two, leaving Nie Huaisang to inherit the sect at the age of twenty-four, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. Meng Yao, who did not know the details of the curse, was very solicitous of him and Nie Huaisang both. He was always helping them find new efficiencies, new ways to delegate work, to make their lives easier; he helped Nie Huaisang, who suddenly devoted himself to learning about sect leadership with a fervor and occasional jags of crying, to find teachers and did not ask too many questions, undoubtedly assuming the cause to be the war; and as for Nie Mingjue, he always finding medicines that seemed to help stem the pain without ever asking for an explanation.

The medicines helped, but Nie Mingjue knew that it would only get worse from here on out.

The Wen sect, he concluded grimly, would need to go before then.

Despite his best efforts, the war dragged on, long and slow and painful. The Wen sect had amassed a considerable following, and while Nie Mingjue’s personal gifts were enough to protect him and sway the battles he himself engaged in, it was still not enough to fight their vast armies, nor to face up against the monstrous cultivation of Wen Ruohan, two or three generations his senior but with a face younger than his own.

At least Lan Xichen visited often, acting as a courier between the various battlegrounds and sects leading them, including his own. He brought news of Nie Huaisang, reassurances that Nie Mingjue’s brother was well, and Nie Mingjue was always immensely glad to see him - and not only for the news.

Through some coincidence and a variety of reasons, Meng Yao was never available to meet with Lan Xichen when he came, and Nie Mingjue was too selfish of his limited time with Lan Xichen to really complain. When they’d finally won a large enough battle to make a real difference, with Nie Mingjue taking Wen Xu’s head in a fair fight on the field of battle and getting dubbed ‘The King of Hejian’ for his troubles, he finally invited Lan Xichen to spend a full week with him, thinking that he could finally re-introduce the two and let them spend some time together. After all, it had been Lan Xichen who had sent Meng Yao, and he undoubtedly missed his company, and Nie Mingjue, who was doomed to leave Lan Xichen alone within a few years, had no right to be possessive.

And yet, right before Lan Xichen was scheduled to arrive – he’d been delayed by an unexpected downpour in Yunmeng that had caused some disaster for the common people there, and Jiang Cheng had requested his assistance in particular – Meng Yao approached Nie Mingjue with a plan to go behind enemy lines as a spy.

“I share a bloodline with the Jin sect,” he explained, wincing a little, and Nie Mingjue, far too familiar with the promiscuous tendencies of Sect Leader Jin, winced a little in return. “Between that and my role as your deputy, it would not be difficult for me to position myself as a ‘catch’ for Sect Leader Wen. I can use that to get into his confidence and feed you information, and perhaps we can end this war faster.”

Nie Mingjue was reluctant at first, thinking the risk too great even given the promise of rich reward, but Meng Yao was insistent, and in the end he was his own man, free to do what he wished. Nie Mingjue could do nothing more than wish him well.

“It’s a pity he left before you could see him,” he remarked to Lan Xichen, who smiled and nodded.

“You speak so highly of him,” he said warmly. “I would be happy to meet him.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. “Meet him? I thought…he came to me on your recommendation. Had you not met him before that?”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “On my recommendation…? I don’t recall...You said his name was Meng Yao?”

Nie Mingjue frowned, but then thought of Meng Yao’s wince as he described his parentage and thought that perhaps he had adopted a new surname. “He shares a bloodline with the Jin clan?”

“Oh!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and seemed surprised. “Oh, yes – I suppose – perhaps it truly is someone I know, and well enough to recommend to you, too. I hadn’t realized A-Yao had reached out to you…I wonder why he didn’t mention it to me?”

“A-Yao?” Nie Mingjue asked, arching his eyebrows, distracted from his concerns by a strange twisting feeling in his stomach that he knew the cause for but refused to acknowledge. “You are that close, then?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “If your Meng Yao and my A-Yao are the same, then yes, quite close. He saved my life once, long ago, and I consider him my younger brother.”

The tension in Nie Mingjue’s belly disappeared at once. “Oh, well, then,” he said with a shrug that he tried to make nonchalant. “In that case, it is truly a pity that you missed him.”

Lan Xichen was looking at him with fond eyes. “I am happier to see you,” he said, and reached to take Nie Mingjue’s hand into his own.

Nie Mingjue swallowed hard. “Xichen…”

“I am not blind,” Lan Xichen said. “I have held back only because you do not seem to have any interest in pursuing what you feel.”

“It’s not –” Nie Mingjue tried to speak and tripped over his own tongue. “There’s no lack of interest…”

“If this is about you dying, I won’t hear another word about it,” Lan Xichen said, and pressed his lips, warm and dry, to the back of Nie Mingjue’s hand. “I know a war is not the best time for such things, but please, think about it. Or do you think I would mourn you any less because the opportunity had slipped through our hands instead of us having seized it?”

Lan Xichen left not long thereafter, and Nie Mingjue thought his words over at length, the thought ringing in his ears until it seemed to consume everything. Even the by now persistent pangs of the poison seemed almost eradicated, as if he were healing instead of deteriorating, and in the end he decided that Lan Xichen was right.

He only had a few years left before the end – he didn’t want to die, to leave Lan Xichen behind when they were just starting out, but if he did, then let him leave those he loved behind with full hearts and happy memories, rather than regret.

Once decided, Nie Mingjue first sent a letter to Nie Huaisang, asking his permission – he received it joyfully, as he’d expected, but he wanted to be cautious about such things – and then the next letter to Lan Qiren, asking if he could send Lan Xichen his way at the next opportunity to discuss a personal matter of some importance to them both. Asking, furthermore, that if Lan Xichen still felt the way that he did in their previous discussion, that he grant them his approval.

The letter he received back was – slightly unusual, in truth, but for all of the mystifying references to size and scale, age and experience, and related concerns that seemed all directed at him rather than at Lan Xichen as he would have expected (he was taller, but only but a little; judging by appearance, older, by a little; and certainly no member of the Lan sect could be expected to have experience, and yet for some reason Lan Qiren seemed to be trying to offer him advice about not being overwhelmed), the letter contained the approval he had requested. That was the most important thing.

He smiled down at the letter, barely able to think from sheer happiness.

“Is it true, then?” Lan Wangji, who had brought Lan Qiren’s letter in person, asked. “You’re courting xiongzhang?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue admitted, because he of all people knew how important the approval of younger brothers could be. “Your uncle has approved my suit. Is that all right with you?”

“Xiongzhang can do as he likes, of course,” Lan Wangji said, and he seemed almost – impressed, with Nie Mingjue? That seemed to be right, but he really wasn’t sure why. “And he agreed? To your suit, I mean?”

“He indicated that he would be willing,” Nie Mingjue said, a little uncomfortable at how Lan Wangji was staring at him as if he had just announced his intention to scale a very large mountain. “It was I who was – slow to understand.”

Lan Wangji raised his hands and saluted, bowing very deeply even though Nie Mingjue had long ago told him not to bother. Nie Mingjue got up and went over to try to pull him up at once, but Lan Wangji persisted.

“Chifeng-zun is a brave man,” Lan Wangji proclaimed in that serious way he had. “Noble and upright, steadfast and unflinching. I wish you both happiness.”

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, now completely uncomfortable, but luckily Lan Wangji didn’t seem interested in saying any more and left shortly thereafter.

Lan sect, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, utterly bemused. He would never understand them.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #nielan #my fic #my fics #toxicity

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aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide · 3 years

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Helter Swelter

Rating: MA, NSFW

Spoilers: None

Trigger/content warnings: alcohol, semi-public sex, implied voyeurism

This is for the IN THE POOL square of @thatesqcrush 's Sexy Summer Bingo, and was requested!

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"This is a fucking disaster," Olivia sighed, throwing her bag onto the bed in frustration.

Amanda rammed the heel of her hand against the sputtering A/C unit in the window and frowned. "I don't know why you ever expect anything more from Daddy Dodds than a fuckup," she muttered.

Liv ran a hand over the nape of her neck under her hair, finding it moist with sweat, and surveyed their room. Dodds had told her that he had booked them at a high-class hotel for the Extended Learning conference that weekend. A five-star, full-service, swanky joint, he had sworn.

Yet, here they were - sweltering during the peak of a heatwave, in a barely passable room with one double bed and a busted A/C unit. Even better, they weren't even in the right city for the conference - a fact discovered when they called Dodds upon landing to tell him that nobody had heard of the hotel he named.

Fuckup was putting it mildly.

"I'll go talk to someone at the check-in desk and see if they can do anything about the air conditioning," Olivia announced.

"I'm going to take a cool shower in the meantime," Rollins said, palming sweat from her forehead.

The young man at the front desk looked at Liv as though he'd fallen asleep and she had walked out of one of his fantasies into the lobby. Handyman? Not on weekends, it turned out.

"The pool's open 'round the clock though," he shrugged. He finished up by giving her some info on what was available to order from the kitchen, then went back to the glare of his cell phone screen.

When Olivia got back to the room, Amanda was already out of the shower and had changed into light cotton shorts and a sports bra. Liv shrugged apologetically and tossed the info about food to her on the bed.

"No-go on the A/C. There's a pool though." She stopped at the bed long enough to grab her bag. "My turn in the shower, I guess."

Amanda nodded disinterestedly, perusing the menus as the brunette disappeared into the small bathroom.

The clock in the room was ticking past 1:30am. On the coffee table in front of the room's armchairs was a plate of mostly-eaten chicken nachos, and what was left of a six-pack of beer, still sweating condensation.

On the bed, the SVU detectives were also sweating, awake atop the bedclothes. Olivia was on her back, eyes to the ceiling, Rollins was on her side. They breathed the overwarm air and tried not to move too much, but neither could sleep. Amanda's tossing and turning was more irritating with every creak of the narrow mattress.

Tick -

Creak

Tock.

Always followed by the dying, strangled hum of the useless A/C.

This is it, this is how I'm going to lose my mind, Olivia decided.

Tick. Tock. Tick -

Creak.

"Amanda!" Liv snapped, "Can't you stay still for five minutes?!"

"I"m sorry!" the blonde whined, "I can't fucking sleep!"

Liv rolled her eyes. "I thought you grew up in the South? You must've had nights hotter than this."

"We slept out on the porch in the Summer."

"Be my guest and go sleep in the parking lot if you'll be more comfortable."

Amanda gave a surprised huff that was partway between amusement and annoyance. She leaned up on her elbows, shot Olivia a look, then rolled to her feet. "I'm going for a swim," she announced.

Liv's head turned on the pillow. "Amanda - it's nearly two AM."

"It's still almost 97 degrees! I can hardly breathe, I'm so hot," the blonde groaned. "Plus, I bought an expensive new bikini to wear at the hotel Dodds promised, and it's a damn crime for it to go to waste."

She crossed to her suitcase and unzipped it. "'Sides, you don't have to come. Stay here and melt, if you'll be more comfortable," she mocked.

Ten or so minutes later, both women slipped into the elevator, dressed in thin complimentary hotel robes, bikinis and sandals. In their robe pockets they had tucked cans of the warming beer from their earlier order.

On the main floor, they followed the signs to the door that lead to the pool and pushed outside into the thick, hot night air. The pool was somehow cleaner than their room, and they had it all to themselves. It rippled and beckoned under the starlight and the few florescent lamps that lit the tiled area around it.

Amanda stopped alongside a lounge chair and emptied her pockets of beer before she slipped off the robe. "What do you think?" she asked Liv, hands on hips.

Olivia swallowed dryly, glancing quickly at the bikini and then away. "Very nice," she murmured, busying herself with her own robe and cans. As Amanda walked away toward the pool's edge, Liv took another, more surreptitious look at the bathing suit. It was a dark green color, highlighted with square, gold rivets along the straps, the band under the bust, and along two split straps at the front of the bottom, which tied at each hip.

She popped open a beer and took a long pull from the can. I've seen underwear with more material than that entire suit, she mused. Her own suit looked conservative by comparison: a sporty black two-piece with boyshort bottoms ruched at the sides, and a crocheted, mesh high-neck top that covered her cleavage.

Amanda let out a loud, satisfied groan that startled Olivia out of her bikini thoughts, nearly dropping the drink in her hand.

"Oh my God that feels so good!" she cried. Blood rushed into Liv's face and groin simultaneously. "Hurry up and get in - and bring me a beer!" Rollins urged excitedly.

Olivia shed the last barrier between her bikini and Amanda's gaze, and grabbed two cans of beer. She leaned down to hand one to the blonde at the pool's edge.

"Thank you," Amanda said, and smiled genuinely for the first time since their plane touched down. It raised a relaxed twinkle to her blue eyes, and Liv stared until she caught herself.

She let herself down carefully on the tile and then scooted to the pool's edge, stretching her long legs into the water. Amanda was, of course, right - the water felt fantastic against the cloying heat - and Liv sighed with relief, letting her head fall back as her eyes closed.

The Southern blonde smirked and drank her beer, feeling more herself now that she wasn't sticky and uncomfortable. Setting her drink down, she plunged under the water and wet the rest of her body, kicking hard. When she split the surface, she was a few feet away from Olivia, who was still kicking her legs, watching.

"You didn't come all the way down to just sit on the sidelines, did ya?" Amanda teased.

"What, you wanna play Marco Polo?" the brunette tossed back, smiling as she raised her can to her lips.

"Don't make me drag you in here, City Girl!"

Liv set aside her drink and rolled her eyes, pushing her weight up and over the side with both hands against the concrete tile. The soothingly cool water ribboned over her warm skin, sending goosebumps racing in every direction.

"Better?" she grinned.

Amanda put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Mostly . . . " she drawled, "just - " Then she spread both arms wide and used them to scoop and splash water at Olivia, laughing.

Liv opened her eyes as the water settled, letting drops drip from her jawline and hair. "I'll make you regret that, Dixieland," she said calmly.

Rollins laughed and tipped backward into the water, kicking her feet and floating along the surface. Liv ducked under the water to finish cooling off, then swam back to the side for another drink. The dehydration from the heat was making the beer go to her head more than usual; she felt good, and she was enjoying Amanda's flirting.

"You'll have'ta find me, first!" Rollins giggled from behind Olivia.

Rolling her eyes, Liv swallowed what was in her mouth and replied, "Right, because the pool is soo - " she turned around to face the water, finding herself alone, " - big," she faltered. Scanning the pool she didn't see ripples or bubbles - no sign of the blonde mermaid.

Olivia shivered, partly from her lowering body temperature, and partly from the eerie silence of standing there in the water alone.

"Enough, Amanda," she called. "you're not funny." When there was still no response or sound, the brunette turned defiantly back to her beer. The quiet, early morning dark wasn't so peaceful, suddenly.

With absolutely no hint of movement or sound of warning, Amanda tunneled up out of the water behind Liv, the noise breaking the surface like rolling thunder as splashes rained down. Liv let out a gasping yelp as she startled, then Amanda's arms locked around her middle from behind.

"Marco Polo!" she shrieked in glee as she pulled Olivia underwater against her.

Sputtering, they broke the surface again together after just a beat, Amanda still holding tight. "Jesus, Rollins!" Liv coughed out, "You gave me a heart attack!"

They stilled as Liv caught her breath, heart pounding from being caught unawares. Slowly, the feeling of Amanda's wet body wrapped around her from behind began to register with her senses: their legs, sliding against each other, cool skin on skin, the press of hard nipples against her back where Amanda's wet suit pressed. It sparked another shiver, but this one went to Liv's center.

"I don't think that's how Marco Polo is played," Olivia murmured softly.

"Well, we didn't play it that much in Georgia," Amanda chuckled, her warm breath tickling the back of Liv's neck. Then, just as suddenly, she let her go.

Liv pushed away slightly, back to the side and the drink that had been interrupted. But her mind was buzzing about more than beer now, wondering if Amanda's flirting was purposeful, natural or beer-induced. She kept her eyes on the stone tile as the blonde floated over and resumed her own drink. Their bodies were unnervingly close. Liv's breathing shallowed as she bored a hole in the spot she focused on.

Then, Amanda's foot, sliding against Olivia's ankle. Too pointed to be an accident. Higher - the leg was slipping against calf. Underwater footsies, Liv mused, a little drunkenly. Still, she refused to turn her head, not wanting to break the tranquility.

Rollins drained the can she was holding, then set it poolside before shifting her body so that she was directly behind Liv again. Cool, wet lips pressed against the nape of Olivia's neck, and she drew in a ragged breath, held it.

The kiss warmed and went on, lips dragging over the water drops on the sensitive skin there until finally her tongue joined in. Liv's eyes closed, relaxing into the touch as she exhaled. Next there were fingers at the strings where her bikini top was tied, tugging slowly, gently, giving plenty of opportunity for the brunette to call the stops.

All of it felt too good, however, for stopping to enter Olivia's mind. The water, the touch, the buzz from the beer - it all beat an Extended Learning conference to hell and back.

Amanda pulled the ties away slowly, one side at a time, kissing and nibbling warmly over Liv's shoulders, while her legs continued to playfully rub and slip around and between Liv's underwater.

Liv felt a hand return to her middle, pressing firmly, while the other arm crossed her upper chest. Amanda tipped Liv's head to the side with wet fingers to the jawline, then licked the point of her tongue up the curve and pulled an earlobe into her mouth.

A moan escaped Olivia as she wriggled against the blonde's hold, turning in her arms. "You taste like salt and flowers," Rollins smirked, her voice thick and deep. It was all she got out before the brunette framed her face with dripping hands and kissed her mouth.

Her tongue was a shock of heat in comparison to her hands, and Amanda gave back everything she received, their kisses as deep and wet as the pool itself. The turning in her embrace had taken care of moving Liv's top out of the way, and Amanda could feel the brush of wet breasts as the brunette made out with her madly.

She fought to get her hands between their bodies, then the smooth weight of those same breasts filled her palms. The sensation sent a ripple of desire throbbing through her swollen center. Amanda's thumbs grazed over the hard peaks and it finally broke their kiss, Liv's head lolling back.

"Fuck," she hissed, spurring the blonde on to rub harder. When she couldn't take it any more, she pushed her hands under Amanda's arms and grasped the bottom of her bikini top, yanking it over her head.

Olivia ducked low, her mouth just as hungry for this as it had been for Amanda's tongue. One cold, dripping nipple, then the other rolled under the brunette's tongue and pebbled under the scrape of her teeth until Amanda was panting, fingers slipping in their search for purchase on Liv's shoulders.

Kicking her feet, she steered them back to the pool's side until she could leverage her weight to regain dominance. Amanda pushed her knee in between Liv's thighs and made contact with the place she wanted to touch most. Immediately, Olivia's head dipped to the blonde's shoulder, her breathing quickening. She turned so that her lips were just under her ear and breathed, "I want you to make me come."

Without a breath of hesitation, Amanda buoyed Liv's weight up with her hands spread on her outer thighs, and deposited the dark haired woman on the pool's edge. Both hands tugged on the bottoms Liv still had on, until they rolled down and were tossed to the tile with a wet splat.

Amanda pulled Olivia's ass flush to the edge and wrapped her arms around her tan thighs, then lowered her tongue to the dewy pink valley between. Her clit was swollen and aching, twitching as Amanda nosed over it and sucked it gently.

Impatient, Liv bucked her pelvis into every touch of Rollins' sweet mouth. "I'm so fucking wet, Amanda, please . . . "

"Patience is a virtue," Amanda grinned. "Guess they don't teach that in the city," she teased, running her tongue down and inside Olivia's dripping entrance with a moan. She brought two fingers into the mix, slipping then inside carefully, then rubbing firmly against the G-spot.

The normally restrained SVU detective was sprawled on the pool tile, propped on her arms with her head dropped back and her legs over the Southern blonde's shoulders. Mouth open, thighs quivering, Olivia could hear the roar of her blood rushing and the sound of Amanda's talented fingers fucking her blind.

"Oh God, Amanda . . . don't stop, please . . . don't - yes, fuck me fuck me . . . " she babbled, unsure if she was even coherent.

Rollins couldn't stop grinning as she sucked and fucked the trembling brunette with fervor.

"I'm going to - oh fuck, oh oh Amanda! Ungh I'm going to come!"

"Damn right you are," the blonde mumbled as she pulled her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. Olivia squeezed her thighs and rode her orgasm out on the thrust of Amanda's tongue, dripping hot juices.

Pleased with herself, she released her grip on Liv's thighs and cupped pool water in both her hands, dousing her face and hair to cool down. "God, you're fucking incredible," she grinned.

Liv let out a laugh. "You did all the work! Get up here, Amanda."

She did as told and joined her on the cool cement tile. Olivia liberated her from her bikini bottom, then straddled over her on all fours. Delighted to once again be presented with Liv's slick, pink pussy above her face, Amanda wasted no time in sliding her fingers back inside. She was distracted this time, however, by the long, gentle brush of Liv's own fingers, spreading her own pussy open.

"Fuck, look how wet you are," Liv praised, gathering the slickness on her fingertips and swirling them around the blonde's hard clit.

"Jesus!" Amanda cried, her hips quaking at the touch as she remembered to pick up her thrusts into Liv.

A greedy race to the finish line started as both women worked to make the other come first with fingers and tongues as the pool threw reflections of light and the stars winked down on them.

When they returned to their room, the morning was rushing toward dawn. Olivia opened the door and was startled to hear the hum of the now completely functional A/C unit.

"I'll be goddamned," Amanda drawled from over her shoulder.

Liv crossed to the unit and put her hands in front of it to make sure the air was cool. As she did so, Amanda found a new six-pack of cold beer on the coffee table. A post-it was stuck to the table beside the cans.

"Fixed your A/C, beer's on the house," Amanda read aloud to Liv, followed by, "But please feel free to enjoy another night swim anytime." She looked at Liv quizzically.

The front desk kid. Liv rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Oh, God."

"Good thing we ended up in the wrong place, after all," Amanda giggled, and pulled open another beer. "Cheers!"

END

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #law and order svu #olivia benson #amanda rollins #svu #rolivia #hearteyes4mariska #my writing #in the pool #helter swelter #heatwave #fluffy smut #rollivia #tw: alcohol #tw: semi public sex #my fanfic #requested #semi public sex

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winter-turtle · 3 years

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House Of Wolves - Chapter 1 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Peter Parker has been raised towards villainy by his parents for all his life. After a mission gone wrong, he is captured by the Avengers.

Tony Stark is a mechanic. He fixes things and now he's determined to fix this teenager that doesn't know any better.

The problem? Tony is a walking disaster when it comes to emotions. Another problem? He has only two weeks to succeed before Peter is taken away by Shield.

@multiverse-irondad-july

Chapter 1: Tipping The Scales

“Okay, how about this one – Elliot? No? Then… Lucas?”

Peter kept his face perfectly blank, the cool mask not giving anything away. He glanced at his hands shackled to the table, then around the dull grey interrogation room. Everything was grey – this room, his cell, even his clothes!

Why grey? It was just shitty black. He missed his black costume.

“Hmm, what about Thomas? You kinda look like you could be Tom.”

The name reading has been going on for days and it was slowly but steadily eating away at Peter’s nerves. When no one was interrogating him for information – which he would never willingly give away anyway – Barton sat down opposite of him and kept reading from various lists in an attempt to figure out his name. Of course, his name’s been already read several times, but as always, he didn’t react.

“Nathaniel?”

Oh God, if he wasn’t chained to that stupid table, he would’ve hit the man with something long time ago just to shut him up! Where the hell were his parents?

“Remember your training.”

That’s what they’d told him as they retreated and flew away to safety when it was clear there was no chance of winning. So Peter remembered his training – say nothing and stall for time until help arrives.

“We’ll come back for you.”

That was two weeks ago.

He was left to fend for himself against the Avengers. Seriously, Peter knew better than to question his parents’ decisions, but what were they thinking, attacking the Compound like that? Neither of his parents bothered to tell him why they were there in the first place.

“Just do as you’re told.”

It didn’t mean that he went down quietly. In the end, it took two super soldiers, two men in armor and one ex-assassin pressing on his pressure points to stop his trashing and hold him down.

“Kama- what the hell is this name? Kamakanaalohamailkalani?“

Peter couldn’t help himself but raise one eyebrow at that, giving the man his best are-you-stupid? look.

“Yeah, that probably is not it either,” the archer sighed. “But come on, boy, work with me here!”

Ah, yes. That’s what he’s been called ever since he got here. “Boy” or “kid” as Stark liked to call him. But what was he supposed to do? Say – yes, my name is Peter Parker, my parents are Richard and Mary Parker and we’re a family of villains. Would you like their phone number and an address where you can find them? Well, not like they had any permanent residence, but still. For all he knew, his parents could be anywhere.

Anywhere but here, busting him out of this place.

“You know, this would be a lot easier for all of us if you just told us your name.”

Peter kept staring. He was told he had very expressive face, hence why he wore full-face mask, so he took pride in managing to remain impassive for so long.

Barton rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, sighing. “I guess we’re not getting anywhere today too, huh?”

“This is the first smart thing you’ve said today.”

“Oh, so now you talk.”

Peter merely shrugged in response.

Don’t take him wrong, he did talk… occasionally. He just talked without saying anything important. Just empty words meant to get some form of reaction out of the group of heroes. And once they snapped… well, Peter could take it. He was trained.

The silence dragged on. It was Barton that broke it once again with another tired sigh. “Fine, let’s wrap this up.”

Besides slight rise of the corner of his lips, Peter didn’t show any other sign of satisfaction. They were getting tired, he knew. But on the other hand, the whole thing was wearing him down too. Even if not by much, there was more freedom back “home”. The thing he missed the most were-

Peter’s sense tingled.

The door opened and in walked Iron Man and Captain America. His entourage for today.

“You know the drill,” Stark said.

Peter knew the drill, he was good at following orders, but there was that look again. That stupid look on Stark’s face he couldn’t decipher even if his life depended on it.

He stood up. Three. Two. One. Stark pressed the button on his watch and the shackles fell from Peter’s wrists, granting him short-lived, though not complete relief. Invisible force pulled his arms behind his back, the ever-present bracelets on his wrists that he hated with his very being clicking together.

Yeah, the thing Peter missed the most were his powers. He’s had them since he could remember, so they were basically his second nature, yet these stupid bracelets somehow dampened them enough to reduce him to normal-powered teenager.

His stickiness was completely gone. His strength and physical abilities were rendered to that of any other regular fourteen-year-old. Well, at least his senses remained unchanged.

“Let’s go,” Rogers jerked his head towards the door. Peter moved and the three men got into the formation around him. Barton in front of him, Stark and Rogers behind him.

He didn’t really understand the necessity of three people escorting him to his cell. If he were to guess, he would say that they were trying to show him who’s in power here, which was pretty useless tactic in his opinion. It’s not like he could do anything with most of his strength gone.

Which was mostly his own fault anyway. He’d gotten impatient on his third day here and now he had to deal with consequences.

They just wrapped up another unsuccessful round of interrogation and were leading him to the cell, Rhodes and Wilson on the duty. Peter, confident in his memory of the place, decided to make a break for it.

He’d let them think that the handcuffs they slapped on him were strong enough to contain him. Peter glanced around, took a note of a position of the two men with him, as well as another two people that were in the room at the end of the long hallway.

It was now or never.

Out of his suit, Rhodes was definitely the weaker one because of his legs, which made him easier to deal with. Peter squashed down the feeling of guilt. He knew the man’s condition wasn’t his fault and honestly, it was impressive that he continued doing the hero work, but the young villain had to do what he had to do.

Explore any weakness. Show no mercy.

Exactly how he was taught.

Neither man had time to react as Peter spun to the left and hit Wilson strong enough to make him hit the wall, snapping the cuffs in the process. Rhodes had split second to react. It still wasn’t enough and Peter, though he would never admit it, hit him just enough to make him fall. Wasting no time, he took off running.

“Friday, sound alarm!” Peter heard Rhodes shout and sure enough, the alarm started to blare two seconds later.

He had to be fast.

The stairs leading to the exit came in view. So did another two people, blocking his path. Rogers and Romanov. It was easy to deduct by the body language that neither side would back down.

The fight was on.

Kicks and punches were traded and with the adrenaline coursing through Peter’s veins, he somehow managed to slip past the two. So close now-

“Out of the way, you two!”

Peter heard something click and the next thing he knew, he was curled on the ground at the base of the stairs, eyes squeezed shut and clutching his head in agony. He felt like he was submerged deep in the water and the only sound that reached him clearly was high-pitched ringing.

Someone was grunting and panting. Then he realized it was him.

Peter was vaguely aware of people approaching towards him as well as someone new running into the hallway. Then there were hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his head. Peter could’ve sworn that the next sound that left his mouth was a whimper. He curled into even tighter ball.

He really hoped he wasn’t crying too.

The hands let him go. “His ears are bleeding.” Even this up close, Peter could just barely make out Captain America’s voice.

There was more indistinguishable conversation around him and the last thing Peter remembered before passing out from pain – a blessing in disguise – was the sensation of cold bracelets clicking shut around his wrists.

And he’s worn those since.

Peter walked through the door of his cell. As much as he hated to admit it, all he could actually do now was to sit on his ass and wait for the rescue. Fighting them in his current state and with the stupid but amazing ceiling computer watching his every move would yield no results. The only time he fought them was when they didn’t respect his personal space and put their hands on his shoulders or back when they escorted him.

Thankfully, they’ve learned not to touch him quite quickly.

Peter stood in the middle of the cell, his back facing the trio of Avengers. His hands fell to his sides as the release button was pressed. Peter still didn’t turn around nor said anything. Two pairs of footsteps began to make the retreat. One stayed in place for five more seconds, then the door closed. That always happened only when Stark was with the group.

Interesting.

His eyes, more out of habit that anything else, roamed over the cell. Besides the cot built into the wall, the room consisted of a “bathroom” that was just a toilet, a shower and a sink hidden by a wall, a table with short bench bolted to the ground and a camera in top left corner.

His dinner, served on a paper plate as always, sat on the table, waiting for him. Peter sighed. There were only so many sandwiches one could eat before going crazy and Peter felt like he was reaching that point.

There was nothing for him to use. Perfect place to contain enhanced villain like him.

So, saving the food for later and with nothing better to do, Peter laid down on the cot, stared at the ceiling above him and waited.

For what?

He had no idea.

The kid – God, he was just a kid – looked at him with curiosity sparking behind those big brown eyes as Tony was making himself as comfortable as he could in the uncomfortable chair.

Time to commerce the plan.

As expected, the kid said nothing. And according to the plan, neither did Tony. Instead, he pulled out his Starkpad and directed all of his attention to the screen.

At least that was what it seemed like.

“Let me go to him next,” Tony had said on that morning. At his teammates’ inquiries about the reason, Tony merely shrugged. “We’ll never know until we try.”

Tony half-heartedly scrolled through various documents and the kid looked around the room every so often before returning his gaze to Tony. It felt like the teen was studying him.

The time he’s spent in the interrogation room hit fifteen-minute mark when Tony noticed the kid slightly shift in his seat. Twenty minutes and the kid shifted again. This was new development. Sure, when Tony’s watched older footage, the kid shifted every so often, but not in such a short span of time.

Twenty-five minutes and the kid released long, soft exhale through his nose. Tony was slowly getting where he wanted. Still, he kept scrolling.

Thirty minutes passed and this time the exhale was a bit louder. The shift was bigger too. Tony glanced up at the kid from underneath his lashes, then he returned his gaze to the device.

Throughout another thirty minutes, the kid grew more and more agitated, shifting in his seat almost every minute. He played with his fingers, soundlessly bounced his right leg, his jaw began to move as if he wanted to speak.

Which he will. Eventually.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Bingo.

One hour and fifteen minutes. Huh. Not great, not terrible. “Why should I? Do you feel talkative? I’ve heard you didn’t say much in the past three weeks,” he said without looking up.

The kid pressed his mouth into thin line, clenched his jaw and scowled.

Baby steps but hey! It was progress.

“This is annoying,” the kid muttered.

“How so?” He knew very well why. Contrary to popular belief, he knew exactly what he was doing. Well… this time, at least.

“Why are you here?”

The pauses between speaking shortened. Tony shrugged. The kid scoffed.

“I can imagine someone like you surely has something more important to do than to sit here with me and waste time.”

“And you are correct,” Tony replied. He looked up, smiling, “but hanging out with you in this lovely room gives me perfect excuse to not do any actual work. So, thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

The kid’s frown grew.

“Oh my God, just get on with it!” the kid shouted, the movement of his shoulders and the clang of the chains indicating that he wanted to throw his arms up in frustration.

Tony ignored him, which fueled the kid’s frustration more. Good. Frustration led to anger, and angry person is more likely to spill something without thinking.

“Why don’t you just get Black Widow down here if you’re not going to ask anything? You clearly have no idea what to do. She will know, she was an assassin after all. Still doesn’t mean her methods will work though.”

Now this got Tony’s attention. “What do you mean?” he asked as he set the Starkpad down on the table.

And there was the kid, scoffing again. He sure did that a lot. It was… actually kinda nice to see that there was a normal teenage attitude underneath that villain layer. “Come on, do you think I don’t know how this works? You’ll keep trying to make me talk, nicely first, but you’ll get tired of it eventually,” the kid leaned forward, his voice lowering with the next words. “And that’s when you go for different approach to get what you want.”

Tony’s brain screeched to halt. There was no time to school his expression back into neutral one fast enough; the kid already noticed, pleased smile spreading across his face. Like he just got it confirmed that he was right.

“What?” Tony managed to somehow say out loud, the task of forcing out the single word around the lump in his throat nearly impossible.

The kid rolled his eyes and leaned back into the chair. “Don’t play dumb.”

“No, seriously, I think I just misheard you.” This time, it was Tony’s turn to lean forward as he tapped his ear. “Because that sounded like an implication that we’re about to torture you for information.”

“And you won’t?” the kid asked, obviously not believing him.

“No! Geez, we’re heroes. We don’t do shit like that!”

“Everyone gets tired of the nice act over time. It’s practically human nature. You might as well get on with it,” he said matter-of-factly, waving his hand as much as the chain would allow. “It won’t work anyway. I’m trained.”

The way the kid seemed to treat it like some everyday annoyance made Tony sick to his stomach. Just what kind of environment did he grew up in? Tony could imagine only one way how one could be taught how to resist physical torture.

“Okay, hold on. Let me get this straight – you’re saying that you’re trained to resist torture.”

“Yes.”

“I assume your parents trained you?”

The boy in front of him smirked. Nobody should look that proud about something like that. “Kid… that’s called abuse,” Tony said carefully.

“Jesus Christ, Tones, what the hell did you hit him with?”

“I- just a sonic blast. I had no idea he would react like this. It was supposed to daze him, not make him bleed.”

Now it all made sense. The kid was clearly in incredible pain from the sonic blast, and yet he barely made a sound. No screaming in agony, just choked grunting and panting.

Tony’s had his fair share of torture. First in Afghanistan, then when he returned and his arc reactor was ripped from his chest and then several times he’s been captured since the beginning of his hero career. That didn’t mean he was used to it. And this kid had it done to him by his own parents.

The thought of Obadiah, someone he trusted, torturing him directly while saying it was for his own good was enough to cause his anxiety rise.

Dread began to seep into his body with a sudden yet simple realization; Tony’s been hurt so much, been through so much, it was a wonder he didn’t turn to villainy. He had the perfect set up. It would have been so simple to choose to do harm with his tech instead of good.

For a moment, he saw himself sitting in the kid’s place.

The two of them were so similar, yet so different.

“Abuse?” The kid snorted. “Yeah, right. Me. Abused.”

Tony sighed. “Kid, I don’t know what kind of life you’ve been living, but hurting their own children is not something normal parents do. At least the loving ones.”

That statement set off an unforeseen reaction. The kid puffed out his chest, anger dusting his cheeks with red. “They care about me,” he hissed, “and they’ll come for me any day now.”

“Same as they came for you in the past three weeks?” Tony snapped without meaning to.

The kid didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he glared down at the table. The sight sent a painful pang into Tony’s heart.

“I believe it’s been enough for today,” he said, the softness in his voice surprising him. “Come on.”

Surprises kept on coming because the kid went without any resistance. Tony half hoped that since he didn’t call anybody to help escort the young villain, but there was none. The kid kept his head down, unreadable expression on his face all the way until they got to the cell. Then he just stood in the middle of the room without doing anything.

Tony turned to leave.

“Peter.”

The word – spoken so silently Tony would have thought he had imagined it – made him stop just before he could fully close the door. “Come again?”

“Peter,” the kid said louder, still not facing him.

“Peter…” Tony repeated, drawling the word in clear way that he was waiting for more. For a moment, he expected the kid to remain silent, that he already said enough, but then-

“Parker.”

Tony smiled softly at the kid’s back. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” This time the kid, Peter, didn’t reply. Tony took it as a cue to leave. “See you later, kid,” he said and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Tony, sprawled across the couch with his hands behind his head, grinned at his shocked teammates. “Yep,” he said, popping the p and doing his best to shove the other horrific revelation to the back of his mind. That can of worms could be opened later. “You heard that correctly. I got the kid’s name.”

“Well?” Sam gestured with his hand for him to spill already.

“His name is Peter.”

“What?!” Clint called out.

Natasha sighed. “Clint—”

“No, don’t take me wrong, but really? Peter?” the archer threw up his arms. “I read that name in five different lists. Five!Nameberry was my best friend for the past three weeks. I already started with lists of names from different countries. So far I went through German names, all Scandinavian names and I was about to move to Slavic—” Clint suddenly cut himself off, sat down and buried his face in his hands. “How did you managed to get a name out of him in only one session?”

The question came out more like a whine.

Tony shrugged. “Maybe I just know how to talk to him better.” And maybe he said nothing at all, but nobody had to know that. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I think you already cracked him. Like that technique where CIA plays the same song over and over again and then you start skipping the parts, kicking the brain into overdrive.”

“All right, but did you get his last name too?” Steve asked.

“Oh yeah!” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “Parker.”

“I read that one too.”

“Oh, hush.”

Rhodey nodded to himself. “So, Peter Parker, huh?” he hummed to himself.

Bucky stiffened.

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s up?”

Bucky remained silent, staring at the wall with wide eyes, but seeing right through it.

Steve leaned closer, gently nudging his friend. “Buck?” he asked softly. “You know something, don’t you?”

“He was supposed to be dead,” Bucky replied as if he was in dream-like state. “All three of them were all supposed to be dead.”

“Okay, Barnes, that’s freaky,” Tony said. “You clearly know him.”

Bucky nodded. He swallowed thickly, then again when the lump in his throat refused to go away.

“Take it easy. Deep breaths,” Steve coaxed.

It took a minute, but eventually the man pulled himself together with one last inhale, his features set in determination. “About ten years ago, Hydra was working on one project. They were trying to recreate supersoldier serum, but with countless failures before, they decided to try something different.”

The room was completely silent, everyone listening to the story in interest.

“Cross-species genetics.”

“What species?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked Steve in the eye. “Spiders.”

“That would explain the powers,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

“Anyway,” Barnes continued, “Parkers, Richard and Mary, they showed up at the base one day to help with the research. But they didn’t come alone.”

The atmosphere in the room thickened.

“They had this little kid with them. A little boy with brown eyes and brown curly hair. He couldn’t be older than three.”

Even if it was expected, it didn’t make the revelation any easier. They all saw how Barnes started to behave when his time as the Winter Soldier came to haunt him.

Clint‘s face twisted into horrified grimace. Sam looked on the floor with somber look. Natasha, though her face betrayed nothing, slightly shifted on her feet. Steve’s chest rose with soundless inhale, his eyes closing.

Tony’s jaw set, anger burning in his chest. Another horror the kid went through.

Bucky let out pained chuckle, shaking his head in almost manic way. “I guess they wanted to start young since the previous test subjects, adults, all failed. They succeeded. And then… Parkers just disappeared a few days later, along with Hydra’s biggest success since me. They sent me after them.”

“I remember all of them.”

Those words spoken in Siberia echoed in Tony’s mind. In the end, the whole situation got resolved with words before anyone could get seriously hurt, but the bunker was completely trashed. To say that Tony had been angry would be an understatement. He’d been downright livid. It’d been a long couple of days, and with Ross breathing down his neck, that damn airport fight, Rhodey… it was a miracle he’d stopped himself before killing either Barnes or Rogers.

The relationship between him and Barnes was still strained though. The same went for his relationship with Steve. Luckily, both of them knew to give Tony space and not to push him.

“No survivors. That were the orders.” Bucky let out humorless laugh. “I tracked them down to this airport and… I brought the plane down. The wreckage wasn’t a pretty sight. Literal chunks of that plane were never found, same with the bodies. Hydra found traces of human blood, their blood, where the wing used to be, so they were satisfied.”

“They didn’t want Peter back alive? As much as I hate to say it, he was what they wanted,” Steve said.

“I agree with Spangles,” Tony nodded. “Seems pretty counterproductive.” Jeez, there was already a lot to unpack, but Tony would rather throw the whole suitcase away at this point.

“Hydra thought that since they were successful with Peter, the process could be easily recreated. Little did they know that the kid’s parents destroyed every single file that had anything to do with the experiment.”

“I can imagine they were pretty pissed.”

Bucky smiled at the memory. “They were furious. Several search parties were sent out in an attempt to find Peter’s body. Obviously, the search proved to be fruitless.”

“The question is,” Rhodey said, “what do we do now?”

Tony was expecting more heavy silence. He didn’t expect Steve to speak.

“Fury called and asked about our progress. He said he will take Peter into Shield’s custody. I think it will be for the best.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony stood up abruptly, “you want to send him away?”

“Tony,” Steve sighed like he was expecting the protest. “He’s a villain.”

“He’s a child!”

“He’s also product of Hydra,” Steve countered.

Clint frowned. “Steve, he’s—"

“Stark—” Sam joined in as well and all of a sudden the whole room was buzzing with words, everyone talking over everyone.

“Do you know what he said to me during our session?” Tony raised his voice and gestured to the vague direction of the kid’s cell. The room fell silent. “He downright admitted to being trained to withstand torture. You can make a pretty good fucking guess on who trainedhim. I told him that it was not okay, but he saw nothing wrong with it!”

Tony chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. “So yeah, he might be a villain and a product of Hydra, but he is also a kid who doesn’t know any better!”

Steve looked at him with genuine pity. “Tony, I still think Fury—”

“Two weeks,” Tony rushed out. “Give me two weeks to try and show the kid how normal is supposed to look like. If he doesn’t show any redeeming quality, then… then Fury can come and take him.”

Tony knew two weeks weren’t nearly enough to make someone have a change of heart, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t try. He was a mechanic. He fixed things. And he will try to fix this kid that probably knew nothing but pain his whole life. There was no space for mess-ups. Not this time.

And… he might be a mess when it came to emotion, but maybe that’s exactly what the situation called for.

“I say let’s give him a chance.”

Despite how softly the words were spoken, they felt almost deafening in the quiet room. Tony was surprised by his unlikely ally, but assumed it made sense.

“Buck?” Steve asked carefully.

“I was a product of Hydra too and I was there way longer that Peter. You gave me a chance. I say he deserves the same,” Bucky said, determined.

“I second this,” Clint stood up. “No kid deserves to live like that.”

“If Barnes and I could change, then so can he,” Natasha said.

“They’re right,” Sam said and soon everyone was on Tony’s side.

Steve’s eyes roamed over the group, each person determined to spark the change in Peter. To help him.

“Fine,” Steve relented. “Two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Tony said gratefully.

“So, do you have anything specific in mind? When do we start?” Rhodey asked.

Tony smiled. “Right now.”

#marvel fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #villain peter #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #villainous july 2021 #the avengers #protective tony stark #tony stark has a heart #peter parker needs a hug #tw past abuse

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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“Dependable senior” Kido Jou

Continuing my thread of analyzing the Adventure characters in detail, today we’ll be talking about Jou, Adventure’s most famous disaster character whom most of us have probably started feeling may actually be the most relatable character in this cast. It’s hard not to love him, honestly, given how earnestly he works so hard at everything and yet has an unfortunate tendency to dig himself into a hole.

Let’s just cut to the chase and talk about Jou!

Jou’s family background

Adventure is of course known for its overall focus on family backgrounds, but Jou’s is fairly different from the others’ for a lot of different reasons. We never meet Jou’s parents in the series itself, only in a drama CD, but we do meet his brother, Kido Shin -- and in fact, Jou’s the only Adventure kid to have siblings outside of the group (two, in fact, although we don’t meet Shuu until 02).

Jou’s family is what’s often called an “elite” family -- one that pushes for its kids and family members to have a certain degree of “high status” through their career. Even those in non-Asian countries will probably recognize that academic achievement measurement pressure is endemic to the culture in general -- especially since Japan has standard entrance exams go all the way down to high school level -- but it is especially prominent in the case of the Kido family, and Jou’s father has been pushing all three of his sons to become doctors, largely because he wants one of them to inherit his clinic. (While it’s not as extreme as Sora’s problem with iemoto position inheritance, Jou’s position of being in inheritance pressure is not entirely dissimilar.) It also means that just being any kind of doctor isn’t enough for him -- it’s got to be one of the “dignified and prominent” kinds of doctors (heavily implied to involve surgery, given the mention of blood).

In addition, while it’s not strictly said within the series itself, it’s implied that Jou is feeling a lot of pressure in terms of being the youngest of three sons, when the older two have a huge age gap with him. Jou is only in elementary school, while his second oldest brother is in high school and his oldest brother already a medical student! (By the time Adventure is over, both brothers are in national university, which is a really tough achievement.) Within his family, Jou really is The Baby compared to two high-achieving brothers who are already “well on their way to great things”.

In order to be on the path of becoming a doctor, Jou starts off the series, only in elementary school, in the “prep school track” -- or, what’s basically a constant cycle of getting into a good school so that he can get into another good school so that he can get into another good school (et cetera). Again, Japanese schools have entrance exams as early as high school, so this is something he’ll be setting on very early. I also cannot emphasize enough that for anyone who has to go through this process, it is absolute hell. I have never met anyone who actually enjoys doing this; it’s a means to an end. It’s very hard to have your heart into this unless you want the final goal that badly -- vague promises of status alone don’t do it -- and even those who do want it often end up demotivated and going through the motions with their will broken partway into it.

And, unfortunately for Jou, he’d already had a good reason to not want to do this from day one.

Jou has severe blood phobia. (Formally called “hemophobia”, although I tend to avoid that term given that it’s one letter off from something else.) Shin even makes it clear in this scene from Adventure episode 38 that any doubts about Jou’s ability to become a doctor don’t have anything to do with his personality or abilities, but the fact is that this is, indeed, a very serious and concrete problem for someone who intends to become a doctor (or at least, again, the kind of doctor that his father wants him to be). It’s possible that Jou outright fainting at the sight of blood might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s definitely enough of a deterrent that he’s not feeling this whole thing at all, and convincing him to actually care about becoming a doctor is going to require a huge uphill battle. By default, the answer was already a huge, capital NO in giant letters before anything ever began. And yet, Jou continued to force himself to go through the motions.

It should also be made clear that while Jou’s father was pressuring him to become a doctor, he was also not trying to force Jou to become one. The drama CD where he appears had him actually outwardly encourage Jou to do whatever he wanted instead of forcing himself -- but it was also extremely clear that he was still personally very unhappy and dissatisfied with the idea of all three brothers not taking over his clinic. As much as the Kido brothers do seem to be concerned about their father’s disapproval, it’s less so out of fear of retribution and more that they just really worry about disappointing him. Hence, this is why Jou continues to follow the path even when he’s not really feeling it, and it’s important to understanding Jou as a character for the rest of this post: Jou has no personal interest in status or honor, but is motivated by his sense of duty towards other people.

Even so, “because my father really wants me to” isn’t exactly very motivating in itself, and, all in all, Jou starts off Adventure very jaded about his future prospects, and rather demotivated and uninterested in them. But come the events of Adventure, Jou, the aforementioned “baby of the family”, gets recasted as the oldest in the group -- which becomes a huge factor in how he ends up changing his view of himself and his personal goals.

Jou in Adventure

Jou starts off the series assigned as Mimi’s camp group leader, but even Mimi senses an aura from him that he doesn’t seem very “reliable”. In this case, the word “reliable” doesn’t refer to his Crest name (which did get a dub name of “Reliability”) but rather various words that effectively mean “able to be counted on”. Which, at this early point of the story, Jou is decidedly not. Once the adventure gets off the ground, Jou easily succumbs to stress, and especially the stress and burden placed on him from being the oldest in the group.

If you’re wondering if that one-year difference between Jou and Taichi/Yamato/Sora really is that big of a deal, culturally speaking: yes, it is (especially when everyone’s at this young age), and Jou isn’t just being stickler about it. You can actually see an example of how this comes into play once they return to regular society in Adventure episode 29, when the kids are allowed to go to Hikarigaoka purely because “a sixth-grader” (Jou) is with them. This is the kind of responsibility that society normally imposes on him, and this is what he carries even into another world.

In fact, Jou’s aware even from the get-go that he’s not exactly cut out for that kind of role. From the Adventure novels:

Jou thought about it. He, too, felt sorry for the younger boy… but it would be over for his leadership if he went back on what he’d already decided. Give them an opening and they’ll soon be walking all over him. He just couldn’t have that. Jou was all too aware of his own often indecisive personality. ... When they heard what had transpired between her and Jou, Yamato and the others glared coldly in Jou’s direction. What was this, a dictatorship?

As a result, he initially rubs everyone the wrong way because, in their view, he’s trying to impose his will on everyone like some control freak, but as it turns out, being a control freak is actually part of Jou’s stress response.

Said control freakishness manifests in Jou constantly spending the early part of the series by leaning back on “the rules of society” -- including the early series running gag of him insisting that there must be “adults” there, when this is clearly not the case to everyone else present -- because, for someone like him who easily gives into stress and anxiety and has a nasty tendency to become incredibly irrational, leaning on those “rules” is some degree of comfort to him. Now that he’s been dragged into another world, he’s desperately clawing at anything that can bring his sense of “reality” back -- hence why he keeps relying on the concept of “adults”, because the truth is that he himself isn’t actually that capable of handling the situation on his own, and he’s trying to convince himself that there’s Some More Reliable Thing Out There that they can fall back on.

The infamous “egg scene” in Adventure episode 7 is certainly comedic when Jou overreacts to everyone harmlessly listing off things they like on their eggs, but things quickly take a turn for the dramatic when Jou practically has a mental breakdown over it. In the end, Jou so easily succumbs to anxiety that even little things like “being a little out of order” stress him out to no end. The world is easy to understand and explain when everything is in the right place, and chaos has a tendency to completely disorient him.

But on the other hand, it’s also in Adventure episode 7 where we learn that Jou’s control freak behavior isn’t because he actually cares about any kind of status or honor for being the oldest, but because he truly, truly feels responsible for everyone’s welfare.

“Because I’m the oldest” is a statement that Jou means in the context of him having a duty to protect everyone -- beyond everything, the one thing that does make Jou passionate is how much he truly, truly cares about other people’s welfare, to the point he impulsively throws himself onto the Black Gear-controlled Unimon and tries to yank the gear out with his bare hands. In fact, said episode demonstrates that Jou can be recklessly self-sacrificial when he wants to be, because his failed attempts at dispute resolution lead him to conclude that he should be the one to take one for the team. For all it’s worth, Jou has the right idea when it comes to trying to take leadership, because he’s very much doing this for the welfare of others more than he ever cares about himself or the glory of the position -- it’s just that, being rather reckless, rather paranoid, and not very good at actually thinking straight, his way of going about it doesn’t tend to always land right.

But it’s undeniable that he cares, and he’s trying, and this leads to a shift in how the rest of the team comes to perceive him for the rest of the series now that they understand that his intentions really are for their sake, not because he’s trying to be a jerk about it.

And that comes out to be the one most prominent trait about Jou for the rest of the series, especially in Adventure episodes 23 and 36 -- as much as an unpredictable loose cannon as he can be, he’s so loyal to his friends and determined to protect them that he would even recklessly throw himself into the line of fire for them. That’s the basis of his Crest, which is something that’s been translated half a dozen different ways, but all boil down to the same principle: he has a strong sense of duty and responsibility to other people, and will always make do on his promises to others or his desire to provide for them.

After a few of their initial bad starts, the Adventure kids never treat him badly -- in fact, both Sora and Mimi respectfully call him “Jou-senpai” as if to acknowledge his position over them in school, something that’s stuck very well with the actual fanbase (more on this later). Of course, everyone tends to get exasperated at him or worry about whether he’ll actually pull through on anything he attempts, but the majority of the humor revolving around Jou in Adventure has very little to do with anyone insulting or tormenting him, and more that he tends to be so dramatic and high-strung that he kind of digs himself into a hole. (Like how he tries to angrily chastise everyone for spending their money on food in Adventure episode 30, only for the revelation that he’s starving himself to kick in and for him to sink into the exact opposite extreme.) Ultimately, everyone comes to understand that Jou’s working really hard for their sake, so they cut him a bit of slack.

In fact, while Taichi initially complains about Jou sitting out of their trip to Shibaura to find the eighth child for the sake of entrance exam studies in Adventure episode 32, the kids strike a compromise by dumping all of their phone call work on him. Of course, this is a bit of “revenge” for him not accompanying them, but it is effectively the other kids respecting his right to sit out and not have to completely give up on his real life obligations even in the middle of the eighth child search, by allowing him to participate in the search in a way that’s more convenient for him.

But despite diligently sticking to the motions, Jou doesn’t actually emotionally care about all of this. We even get a hint of this in Adventure episode 35 -- Jou gets what he calls “the worst grade in his life,” presumably due to all of the stress he’d been going through lately, having just gotten back from the Digital World and all. He also bounces back incredibly quickly, saying that he’ll have to call and inform his parents he’ll be back late.

In the end, Jou doesn’t really care about his grades or performance when it comes to cram school, even despite insisting on sticking to it, because he’s just not feeling it. He doesn’t even want to be a doctor all that much; he has no true motivation and no reason to care. (The only time Jou is ever portrayed as actually liking doing any kind of studying at all rather than doing it as obligation is when everyone’s listing off what they miss doing in Adventure episode 6, but it’s in a context where everyone’s talking about missing home, so it’s more of him missing his daily routine and what’s “familiar” to him than anything else.) He went through the motions, and was slightly disappointed about the grade, but the “ultimate goal” of becoming a doctor had no personal meaning to him, and so he shrugs it all off.

Jumping in physical danger to save someone’s life? That’s a no-brainer -- Jou would easily throw himself into the line of fire to do so, because he’s so passionate about protecting other people and taking responsibility for them that he’ll gladly sacrifice himself for anyone else in a heartbeat. But this whole thing about becoming a doctor and his future career is such a vague thing that he doesn’t even want that it’s arguably more of his “required daily routine” than it’s actually something he cares about all that much.

And so, we finally meet Kido Shin, in Adventure episode 38 -- he’s the oldest of the Kido brothers, already a medical student, and, ostensibly, the one closest to their father’s goal of having doctor sons. Yet his first appearance indicates that even he doesn’t have it all together, either -- he sleeps in the closet (Jou didn’t even know about this!), and somehow just slept through all of his surroundings being kidnapped. So even one of Jou’s apparent models is a bit of a disaster himself -- and, more importantly, Shin leaves some advice with Jou that sticks with him for the rest of the series.

Shin does not intend to be a doctor in the way their father wants him to be (remember, he specifically wants them to take over his clinic). This is Jou’s first time hearing about this, which is important because it means it’s the first time Jou is having such a major shakeup to his likely perception of Shin as a “prior example” -- and Shin knows this, because he promptly uses himself as an example of why Jou should also be free to choose his own path. Jou being the Kido family’s “baby” especially comes out in the novel, because Shin implies that he thinks Shuu would feel independent enough to not need any advice about this, whereas Jou definitely needs it.

We don’t get follow-up on this until after they return to the Digital World, and Mimi witnessing a handful of deaths and eventually Taichi and Yamato falling out brings her to her emotional limit; Jou decides to take responsibility for her, and while part of it is presumably because he’s had charge of her as her camp group leader since the beginning, it’s also clear that the recent events in the Digital World are weighing on him in their own way, as are Shin’s words about finding his own path.

What he wanted to tell her was this: that he didn’t see any likelihood of co-existing with the Dark Masters, and that they had no other choice but to fight them. Even a neutral country like Switzerland had a military. They would be invaded by enemy countries without one. It would be nice and ideal if they used the nonviolent resistance approach as Ghandi did. But that didn’t mean it was okay to just be killed without lifting a finger… But not even he could find a good answer.

QUESTION: Under what circumstances is it okay to battle?

That sort of question would never appear on a school test, and he’d never once thought about it before…

But on their way, Jou and Mimi encounter Ogremon and Leomon, and for the first time, Jou’s peripheral knowledge of medicine from his father starts having a practical use -- up until then, “becoming a doctor” had only been something that he’d been following for a vague sense of status that he didn’t even want, but here, Jou starts to see the connection between that goal and what it would mean for what he wants: to be able to help people right in front of him. Shortly after, when Leomon’s death turns out to involve injuries beyond that a sixth-grader can take care of with his limited supplies (”toilet paper won’t fix this!”), Jou is suddenly hit with a certain sense of reality: if Jou wants to truly help others, there is much more of a skillset he’s going to need to gather in order to do so.

So by the time of Adventure episode 50, Shin’s words now weigh so much on Jou that he’s even dreaming about them, and he finally internalizes those words of “everyone taking their own path”. In short, this is Jou acknowledging that fighting isn’t the only way to meaningfully contribute -- after all, Mimi has a severe aversion to fighting or seeing more casualties and thus can better meaningfully contribute by gathering allies to work together, while Taichi and Koushirou are directly in the front lines.

Jou, ostensibly, decides to go off and find Yamato, but there’s another layer under this: Jou admits that he’s not very strong, so much to the point that he doesn’t think Gomamon will reach Ultimate, and feels like there should be “something only he can do”. The full answer to what Jou started touching on here, and what he ends up doing thereafter, is stated in explicit words in Two-and-a-Half Year Break:

When we were in the Digital World last summer, many of the Digimon got injured and died. I couldn’t do anything for them, even though I was a doctor’s son. I don’t want to ever feel useless again! Not when someone is hurt in front of me. The Digital World doesn’t have a doctor. They need someone who’ll be able to heal them. Even now, I carry around a simple first-aid kit just in case the Gate opens again. Because of it, my bag is always crammed. And my arms are becoming muscular. [laughs] Really! By the way, I have a problem. Of course, I’ll be doing regular doctor studies, but I’ll be treating Digimon, you know? Don’t you think I’ll need to study veterinary medicine too in order to heal them?

And thus, Jou finds the all-important link that actually motivates him to want to become a doctor -- the one thing that had always been a constant about Kido Jou was that he could not leave people behind when they needed help right in front of him. Or in other words, he has a marvelous case of Good Samaritan syndrome (a whole eleven years before Kudou Taiki, at that!). “Feeling useless” is pretty much on the very, very top of the list of things he hates the most. And, by his own admission, “fighting” is not really his specialty, and he doesn’t even particularly like it himself.

But he wants to meaningfully contribute in some way, and now, here’s an option that isn’t fighting: he has the roots in a talent for treating the wounded and preventing casualties that way. All he has to do is hone it. And just like how Shin decided that he specifically wanted to be a doctor in a place where a doctor would be needed most, Jou also decides he specifically wants to be a doctor for the Digital World, because that is something he can meaningfully provide for instead of becoming a doctor for the status.

He’s still going to disappoint his father this way, but never mind that: he’s found something that he wants, and it’s his own path, like Shin told him to follow. And yes, that means even if he has to fight his own blood phobia to do so.

And this becomes very important to how he’s able to confidently help bring Sora out of her darkness-induced spiel in Adventure episode 51, where she -- who has a problem with a compulsive tendency to burn herself out in helping others -- starts falling into despair because she caves to the pressure of having to save everyone. Yamato and Jou, together, simply re-shift her frame of mindset: it’s not that being a Chosen Child is about trying and failing to fulfill a particular duty, it’s that there’s a situation happening and they are actively making the choice to do everything they can. Because, really, Jou himself understands it best -- he’s never been someone good at doing things because other people tell him to, he’s someone who’s gotten this far because of his own personal sense of responsibility and priorities being so strong, and that’s why he’s capable of pushing on with his own path and what he wants.

02 and beyond

Jou was, unfortunately, forced to sit out the events of Our War Game!, but as far as blaming him for it goes, it’s really hard to; he had no idea this was going on at all, and by the time the incident had hit climax, he was already in the test room and impossible to be contacted. (You can imagine he was probably quite upset about not having been able to help out afterwards.) As for why nobody tries to pull him out the way they do end up pulling him aside a few times in 02, it’s because this isn’t just a practice exam for prep school -- this is THE exam. Remember, this kind of lifestyle involves a chain of needing to get into a good school to get into a good school to get into a good school, and Jou is aiming for a national university like his brothers; this actually could impact the rest of his career, and given that the other kids respect how important this is to him, it’s also understandable that they’d be a bit hesitant to pull him aside from this.

We’re first properly reintroduced to Jou in 02 episode 5. Unlike Taichi, Yamato, Sora, and Koushirou, Jou does not attend Odaiba Middle School, which means that, assuming that the Adventure universe Odaiba is like the real-life one in which Odaiba (Koyo) Elementary and Middle are the only schools on the island, Jou regularly spends his school and prep school days off the island and quite separated from the others. Instead, Jou attends a private middle school (hence why he had to take an exam to get in), presumably one that’s intended to help him on the medical school track.

But despite that, his first major scene in the series is to ditch prep school to go help Gomamon. For someone who doesn’t know Jou very well, this probably would seem appalling -- that someone so studious would be so willing to ditch at the drop of a hat -- but anyone who does know him well would probably not be surprised; after all, “being a doctor” is still a far-off dream, whereas Gomamon needs help now, and the number one thing Jou can’t stand is to leave people in need behind.

Unlike with Taichi, Yamato, Sora, and Koushirou, who all have some degree of connection to the 02 juniors in some way (Taichi and Yamato being Hikari and Takeru’s brothers, Taichi and Sora having known Daisuke from the soccer club, and Koushirou having known Miyako from the soccer club), Jou is a complete stranger when he’s introduced to Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori, with Digimon-related work being the only connection they have to him at all. Despite that, the new 02 kids, being well-behaved juniors who really look up to their elders, immediately endear themselves well to him -- in fact (you can thank @takerusfedora for this observation), Miyako squishing Poromon in delight upon seeing him, and the context she usually does this in, hints that she might even see him as attractive. (Considering that he’s a prospective medical student from an elite family, this probably shouldn’t be too surprising.)

While the fact he’s medical school bound isn’t explicitly brought up in the series itself, the fact he’s well on that path is already pretty evident by his actions, given that he comes stocked with heating pads and other medical supplies, just in case. Takeru comments on him always being prepared -- because he’s constantly thinking of other people and how he can be useful to them.

This episode also marks the beginning of a particular relationship between Jou and Iori, which is quite an interesting one considering that we’re talking about the oldest and the youngest of the group of eleven (not quite twelve yet) Tokyo Chosen Children at this point. As many point out even within this episode, Jou and Iori have a lot in common, and it’s likely Jou sees a bit of himself in Iori -- someone who has a firm insistence on principles (even beyond the point of practicality), but also is protective of others and hates to see them hurt. Not only that, Iori had even gotten a similar lesson from his grandfather earlier in the episode about the importance of “making one’s own decisions” -- and so, the two share common ground in Iori having ditched his “duty” to practice kendo with his grandfather that day in order to help Gomamon, and Jou having done likewise via ditching his prep school classes. Because Iori will always have more kendo lessons, and this certainly won’t be the last prep school class Jou has, but these are effectively two kindred spirits who care so much about friends in need that prioritizing them over all else is non-negotiable.

Jou compliments Iori by calling him “dependable”, which is a huge compliment coming from someone who, at this point of the story, regularly attracts comments like “dependable senior”. 02-era Jou gets this kind of reference a lot in press materials and fan descriptions of him, because now that he’s matured a bit and isn’t as prone to making ridiculous, reckless decisions or being as emotionally high-strung, his on-point aspects like being very on-task and always keeping his word are much more visible.

Well, that said, he still kind of starts screaming loudly as soon as he hears his dad is supposedly in trouble in the middle of his exam in 02 episode 16, so he’s still a little emotionally high-strung. But never mind that!

As usual (especially since this is most likely a practice exam, one of many Jou will be taking for the next year), Jou doesn’t mind being interrupted all that much; it’s not like exams are any fun anyway, so of course Jou doesn’t really care about being pulled from it, especially when Daisuke and the others are literally suffocating to death at that exact moment.

Unfortunately, for Iori, this entire incident is a convergence of things totally eating away at his psyche; he’s still blaming himself for everyone being trapped down there, he’s just placed a burden on Jou, and his grandfather had just said that lying is the worst thing that one could ever do, so now Iori thinks of himself a horrible, undeserving person. But Jou is someone who empathizes with being so stuck on “principles” that you forget the big picture, and reframes it in a way Iori can understand: lies are bad when they hurt people, but in this case, not lying would have led to much, much worse happening, and both Iori and Jou share that common ground of absolutely hating the feeling of standing by and doing nothing while others are in trouble.

We also finally meet the third (or, technically, second) Kido brother in 02 episode 33, Kido Shuu -- and while we don’t see him interact directly with Jou (at least, not until the drama CD), what we learn about him contextualizes Jou’s situation even further: Shuu not only decided to leave the path of inheriting his father’s clinic, he’d also decided to ditch the medical school path entirely, switching to humanities because he was so fascinated by Professor Takenouchi’s work. That’s a pretty drastic shift, but, as Shin had said in the novel, Shuu is the type to be independent enough to do whatever he wants without Shin even having to advise him of this, and given that he made this decision less than a year after the events of Adventure, it was likely a huge motivator in Jou deciding that their prior “example” of being medical students wasn’t necessarily something he needed to follow when both of his own brothers weren’t even following that standard anymore to begin with.

And, much like with Jou, Shuu’s new chosen profession also brings him closer to the Digimon, except in an “understanding more about them” sense rather than Jou’s medical sense. So, just like Shin wanted, all three brothers found their own paths.

In Diablomon Strikes Back, Jou is thankfully blessed with being much more available to deal with the conflict; he starts off stuck in a long line to register for high school in the midst of scrambled records, but comes to assist Daisuke and Ken with a bike as soon as he’s able. This movie being quite the comedic one, you get to see a bit of his disaster tendencies slip back in as he scrambles to help everyone -- but, as always, he’s doing his best.

A lot of people have also pointed out that the movie spends an awful amount of scenes depicting him in the company of the girl he borrowed the bike from, which has led to a few amusing extrapolations, but at the base level implies that he at the very least wanted to make absolute sure that her bike was safely returned to her once everything is over -- after all, Jou would hate to be responsible for someone losing a bike, or in debt to someone. He’s someone who fulfills his obligations, after all.

By the time Jou actually is in medical school in Kizuna, he truly has become among the crowd too busy to participate regularly in Digimon incident tackling (similar to Sora and Mimi), but To Sora indicates that he’s still keeping tabs on everyone through their group chat and emotionally supporting them, and it’s made clear in both the short and the overall movie that the rest of the group is sympathetic to and understanding of how difficult life is to juggle with all of this. Not only that, much like how Jou stated back in Adventure that he was looking for a way to meaningfully contribute and help out besides just fighting, Jou plays an important role in using his position to tend to all of the Eosmon kidnapping victims.

At least, until he ends up becoming a victim himself and is actually dragged into the fight -- and, now that he’s actually on the spot and the conflict is right in front of him, he approaches it with enthusiastic gusto, indicating that he’s still able to be as emotionally high-strung as ever.

We get more info on Jou in his Memorial Story short, “Kido Jou: Medical Student” (which takes place at some unspecified point before the movie), where we learn that Gomamon is still worried about how much that blood phobia thing might impact Jou’s career, and “tests” him by having himself and Agumon pose as mock victims. Jou, very tired and not in a mood to play, snaps at him (rather understandably, given that Gomamon is kind of being a bit insensitive here), but when Gomamon is injured, Jou immediately puts everything aside to help him, even through -- yep -- blood.

Again, it’s not entirely clear how severe Jou’s blood phobia was back when he was a kid, but it’s at least put on the table that Jou’s figured out a way to push past that in order to fulfill his dream, and especially when it involves a loved one being hurt in front of him. Jou tires himself out pretty badly with the work, but hey -- he used to jump recklessly into physical line of fire for his friends, so of course that kind of thing is nothing to him. (But he still apparently is a bit lacking in the confidence department.)

Because Jou was lucky enough to be able to concretely decide on what he wanted to do as early as elementary school, Jou’s epilogue career is naturally the single most straightforward, and really just amounts to “you know that thing he wanted to do? He did it.” And indeed, he becomes the Digital World’s first doctor -- presumably not inheriting his father’s clinic, nor following a high-status expected path, but choosing to become a pioneer in a place he has a deep emotional stake in, in a place where he’s needed because there are no alternatives. And, of course, he’s depicted treating Ogremon, who was effectively Jou’s first “patient” all the way in Adventure, the first step in him realizing that this was his path, and his alone.

Meta

Jou occupies an interesting position in the Digimon fanbase in terms of memes, considering that there’s a fanbase meme of over a decade where anything relevant to him gets people spamming “JOOOOOOOOOOOOO” (with varying levels of Os). Being a comedic but lovable character who tries his hardest but repeatedly runs himself into a corner, he also happens to resonate much harder with the adults in the audience rewatching the series, because all of us as disaster adults can just so easily look at him and go “oh, that’s me.” He also seems to be inexorably tied to the word “senpai”, given that so many characters call him that (including the 02 kids, who never went to school with him); after a certain point it’s hard to dispute that he (especially in 02) exudes this kind of “dependable senior” aura, and, like with “Ken-chan”, the Japanese fanbase has a tendency to constantly use “Jou-senpai” all of the time to refer to him affectionately.

His Japanese voice actor, Kikuchi Masami, also holds the distinction of having been in nearly every Digimon TV series to date (the only exception, as of this writing, being Appmon), with him having been Jou (and Jou’s entire family of two brothers, his mother, and his father) in Adventure and 02, Dolphin and Grani in Tamers, Neemon in Frontier and Adventure:, Kurata in Savers, and Damemon in Xros Wars. (Him being the absolutely despicable Kurata in contrast to the endearing and lovable Jou has been cited as quite a shock to many.) There’s been many a joke about Kikuchi’s constant presence, but Jou is undeniably his most iconic role for the franchise, and you can also imagine it’s conversely gotten a lot of people to fondly think of him every time Kikuchi reappears.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #kido jou #jou kido #kizuna spoilers #shihameta #cw blood mention

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lorelylantana · 3 years

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Savageries of the Heart Chapter 6; Heritage

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Chapter rating: T Overall Rating: E

Noodle turned out to be quite the escape artist, if the flickering of a forked tongue against her chin was any indication. Zelda’s giggle swiftly turned into a yawn. Noodle wriggled into her hair until Zelda lifted her head so the serpent could take her usual space coiled around her neck.

“Good morning, Dove,” Link cooed softly, kissing her shoulder as she sat up.

“Good morning,” she said with a stretch. She leaned on Link’s shoulder to look down at the slate in his hands. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just looking through some of the messages that piled up over our honeymoon,” he said, tapping out a reply to his latest missive. Zelda’s brow wrinkled.

“Don’t you do that in your office?”

“I could do it in our office,” he admitted, and Zelda felt him smile against her cheek, “but that would mean leaving you here to wake up alone, and that wouldn’t be very hospitable, would it?”

She grinned and shook her head.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, booping Noodle’s nose. Link clicked out of his messages and brought up a schedule.

“I don’t have many appointments today, so I thought I’d give you a tour.”

Walking through her new home felt like walking through a dream. Her breath steamed in front of her, even though Zelda fel perfectly comfortable, if not warm. Her bare feet walked across frozen stone floors as Link led her through chambers carved into the mountain. It was a surreal feeling, walking next to walls of solid ice, light filtering through in tendrils onto the floor. On her other side was a line of doors. Curious, she opened one, and was surprised to find a bedroom.

“For guests?” she asked, though she couldn’t imagine that many would willingly stay in a frozen abode such as theirs. Link shook his head.

“Children,” he clarified, then caught himself, “Not that we need them! I mean-” he sighed, “I didn’t marry you to pump out heirs. That’s not how we do things.”

“It’s how my family does things,” Zelda said. She wouldn’t say that she was a natural born mother, but there was this vengeful feeling that had grown over the years that was determined to continue her line, even if it was just to prove she could. Zelda ran her eyes down her husband’s figure. At the very least she had a strong set of genes to work with.

“In any case, It’s the one thing I can do to honor my family, making sure the weakest link doesn’t break the chain.”

Link paused then, turning to look her in the eyes. There was a tragic look in his eyes that would make Zelda bristle were it not for the rage burning quietly behind the melancholy.

“Is that how you see yourself?”

Zelda looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s how my people see me.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

She looked up at him, a question on her lips, before he cleared his throat. “I think breakfast should be ready by now. Let’s go eat.”

An moment later, Zelda was seated at the table for breakfast, which gave Link an opportunity to help her settle into her new home and give her a brief explanation of what would be expected of her as a Warden’s wife. As a Mother of the Zonai she would be expected to handle domestic affairs. This included holding audiences and coordinating joint efforts between regions among other housekeeping tasks, handling the finances and presiding over festivals and rituals and whatnot. The Dragonlands were the political center of the Zonai, and marrying its Warden meant that she had an additional responsibility of leading an organization based on the Temple Mesa.

“Wait a moment,” Zelda held up a hand, “You mean to tell me the Hands of Hylia is a Zonai organization?”

The Hands of Hylia was a renowned charity that gathered resources from across Hyrule to redistribute them when needed. Their quick response to epidemics, famines, and other such disasters quickly earned them the reputation of the kingdom’s greatest first responders. Her uncle had poured a generous amount of money to the administration, if only to claim a portion of the glory and saving the castle embarrassment for it’s slow response time.

“I don’t understand. What’s the point in helping a nation that looks down on you so?”

Link leaned back, considering before putting his thoughts to words.

“You know the Sheikah once served the Hyrulean royal family,”

“I did,” Zelda nodded, “Because of Hylia’s blood.”

“Yes, but that’s not all. The Sheikah value knowledge, and so they served Hylia’s daughters, paragons of wisdom before they were usurped by their fathers.”

“What does this have to do with the Zonai?”

“Because the Zonai follow the Hero. At least, we follow his example.”

“I’m sorry, what ‘Hero’?”

Link gave her a quizzical look, “The Hero, the one in all of the stories.”

Zelda shook her head, drawing a blank.

“You really don’t know? No one told you? What about the history books?”

“My uncle had all the history books burned shortly after he took the throne,” Zelda said, in a trance, “Anything that referenced Hyrule’s matrilineal line was disposed of.”

Link cursed before getting up and taking her hand, pulling Zelda as he walked to the same alcove they materialized in the night before. He pressed a button, and they were gone in a flash of light,

Zelda expected her feet to form on top of the sandy beach, not the stone worn smooth by eons pressing against her skin like a well trodden path. Her gasp echoed over towering walls etched with a procession of men and women making their way towards the biggest statue of Hylia she had ever seen.

Zelda felt all at once so small yet nostalgic in a way that drove her forward, paying no thought to her bare feet and the casual slip hanging from her shoulders.

She had a place here, and she felt secure in this undeniable, instinctive sense of unity that swelled in her chest and seeped into her bones.

“What is this place?” she whispered.

“They call the Temple of Time the birthplace of Hyrule, but this,” Link gestured to the massive statue “Is where your bloodline began, when the Goddess Hylia came down to earth and brought her light to the land.”

Zelda walked with him as he led her over the uneven stone, wrapping her arms around his right. After years of precious little physical touch, going to be with her husband had been the release of a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and found herself gravitating towards Link, who seemed more than receptive to her advances, holding her hand tightly in his while they walked upon the stone. They walked in revered silence until they finally reached the statue. Link took her hand and pressed it against the smooth folds of the Goddess’ robe.

A gasp fell from her lips, there was a hum that resonated in her chest, causing her heart to flutter. Link’s skin burned against hers, and she felt this surge of affection for him that felt much older than their marriage.

“Hylia’s line has survived for thousands, if not millions of years, surviving famine, disease, and several wars. Do you really think it can be extinguished so easily?”

Zelda shook her head.

“No.”

“Then we agreed,” he said, hooking an arm around her and bringing his slate around, “Now let’s go home.

Zelda had been sitting at her new desk when her translator began to chime. She glanced at her slate to see who it was.

Owlan (Resting Father of the Dragonlands)

“Owlan?” she said when the call connected. Was there anyone in Hyrule that wasn’t a Zonai in disguise?

“Hello Mother Zelda. I thought I’d see how you were settling in, and I wanted to say that you can call me anytime if you need some pointers for your new position. I was in your shoes quite some time ago.”

“Thank you, that means a lot,” she said, before clearing her throat, “How are things in the castle?”

“As you likely expected, Prince Nohansen wasted no time in commanding your old room to be refurbished for his occupancy.”

“What was wrong with his old one?” she asked. Owlan chuckled.

“It wasn’t yours, of course,” was his snide reply, “You should know the Commissioner returned from his sabbatical, he kicked up quite a fuss when he heard of your nuptials.”

“Really?” there was no love lost between Zelda and the Commissioner. Her uncle’s right hand man was adamant that she spend her days in the castle’s shadow rather than lend her talents to worthier pursuits. “You’d think he’d be glad to get rid of me.”

Owlan hummed thoughtfully, “I’m concerned he may know more about the Zonai than he’s letting on.”

“I could say the same of you,” Zelda quipped, she got a chuckle for her efforts.

“Fair enough. How are you adjusting to your new position?”

“I’m still a bit overwhelmed, but well enough considering the Zonai’s true nature,” she admitted, dragging her finger over her desk’s surface. A list of ingredients she’d ordered scrolled at her touch. Zelda had made her order hours ago, but still fiddled with the giant screen. The novelty of it all hadn’t quite worn off yet. “I must admit, the bath was divine. I’ve never seen such a lovely room.”

“I wouldn’t know, so I’ll take your word for it.”

That gave Zelda pause.

“But weren’t you Father of the Dragonlands?”

“The requirement for being a Zonai Caretaker is a family tie with the region’s Warden, what kind doesn’t really matter. It could be a parent and child, cousins, even best friends, if they sign an oath to one another. I’ve never had much interest in romantic relationships myself, but I was more than willing to support my sister as she watched over the land. In fact, I think you’re actually the first Mother who married in for quite some time.”

“Is that right?” Zelda asked. It seemed the older her marriage grew, the stranger it became. And then, before her eyes, strings of light condensed in front of her.

“What is it?” Owlan asked when he heard her gasp. Zelda shook her head.

“Just more Zonai wonders I have to get used to.”

Owlan blew out a laugh, “I can imagine. I’ll let you get back to the intricacies of Zonai culture. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I’m at your service, Mother of the Dragonlands.”

The call disconnected. Zelda shook her head ruefully, looking at the piles of fruit and herbs within her reach. With a swipe of her hand, the recipe for the Zonai body paint was on screen. She reached for the nearest Armoranth.

It was time she got to work.

#link #zelink #zelda #loz botw #loz #legend of zelda #botw #botw zelink #legend of zelda breath of the wild #botw link #LantanaLore #zelink fanfiction

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

Jaspvid Week 2021: Day 1 - Changes

(AO3) (2020) (V-Day)

@jaspvid-week

Familiar Faces, Worn Out Places

Summary: It's only been one year since the supposed end of the world, but David and Jasper still linger to wander these quiet lands. So then, it shouldn't come as a surprise that they stumble into a place that's too familiar and close to home than they like. David's heart squeezes as the memories bombard him from every which way.

Just how much has changed? And how prepared is he to face these changes headfirst?

Word Count: 3583

FHAKJSLDFJAK WHAT A WAY TO START, ONE DAY LATE ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGH ALRTH-

////

They didn’t think their journey would lead them back here. There’s something eerie with seeing a town they recognize still look the same but also… not.

Sleepy Peaks was never meant to be this sleepy, he thinks. David reaches for Jasper’s hand, squeezing it tightly as his eyes skirt from one store to another. The wind rustles the doors left ajar, wood smacking against wood as familiar, old stores creak from the damage they’ve sustained.

Time has passed too slowly for it to have only been a year. Has it only been a year? Maybe a bit longer? It feels like ages since they’ve shared that chocolate in an attempt to celebrate Valentine’s day. Their worn boots crush the shattered glass still speckled across the ground, windows shattered like so many other stores, and yet, seeing it in a place from their childhood?

It feels wrong.

“Davey…” Jasper looks over at David, concern clear on his features as they stand in what remains of the sleepy town. “Maybe we should head out somewhere else.”

“No.” Despite his misgivings, he wants to continue forward. There’s things he wants to see. Things he… wants to see one last time before moving on. “There might be some useful things left over, you know? We gotta look around some more.”

“If you say so.” Still, Jasper never drops that look of concern. “Just tell me when you’ve had enough, alright? We can always bounce if it becomes too much.”

“Yeah…” He smiles cheerfully despite their memories slowly creeping in from years long since passed. It’s strange - they never really explored this town much as children, despite stopping in it often before being dropped off at that old camp. But as they approach the rickety General Store, the sound of excited, chattering boys echoes in his mind.

”Jasp! Ma said we can get some candy!”

“Radical!”

“David, I said one candy bar each, not everything at the counter!”

“Heeey, I remember this place.” Jasper whistles as the ransacked store sits full of memories before them. “You tried to shoplift from here once!”

“Jasp!” A bright, embarrassed blush raises to David’s cheeks as his criminal past is brought up. “You know it was just a phase!”

“Suuure.” He grins easily as he steps into the store, head turning this way and that before he makes his way to the counter. Another whistle escapes him as he plants his hands on the counter. “Damn, this used to feel so tall when we were kids.”

David walks to his side and imagines a pair of small hands barely reaching the top of the counter. “Yeah, we could barely see over it.”

“You used to think that since you couldn’t see the cashier, the cashier couldn’t see you when you stashed a bar in your pockets.”

“Really? You’re still going on about that?”

“Really.” Jasper waggles his eyebrows as David laughs. “Your mom got so mad when you got caught each and every time. You’d think you’d learn after three straight years of getting caught, but nooo, you had to be Mr. Bad to the Bone.”

“Stop it!” David playfully shoves him as Jasper snickers. “Like you were any better!”

“Hey! Between the both of us, I’m pretty sure I was the goody-two shoes.”

“Says the master of the puppy dog eyes.” David shakes his head as he strolls over to the empty shelves, hoping to spot something overlooked. “You could give the cashier the saddest eyes, and he’d give you a free candy bar.”

“I bet I could still pull it off if I tried hard enough.” With that, Jasper sidles up to David and bats his eyelashes at his boyfriend. “I bet you’d give me a free candy bar if you were the cashier!”

David groans guiltily before pushing Jasper’s face away. “...I’d at least pay for it first with my own money.” Jasper’s boisterous laugh echoes in the empty store as they continue following the ghosts of their childhood through the aisles. Nothing seems to be left behind, even as they check the broken-into backroom and behind the cashier’s counter.

Nothing remains. A store that once housed the goodies and rewards for a well-spent summer now sits haunted with the memories of the two men still standing in its shell. David takes Jasper’s hand and squeezes it once, before looking over to him with a strained smile.

“It’s been a year anyways, it’s no surprise that it’s empty.”

Jasper only nods along before tugging him out of the store. They pass by familiar storefronts, ghosts of their former selves taking peeks through the broken glass as they whisper about the newest, coolest gadgets, or the delicious smelling scents coming from the restaurants and diners. Lumps and bumps line the road as the pair traverse on the old asphalt, the road cracking here and there from whatever disaster may have struck this town. Earthquakes perhaps? David eyes the sides of buildings blackened by forces that could be man made or naturally caused. Fires too, it seems.

How many of the residents died? How many escaped? Sweat beads at the base of his neck as they approach the entrance to the woods, the road leading into it impeded by fallen trees and debris. It’s a good thing they’ve long lost the use of cars by now. They climb over the trees and carefully trek along the road, watching out for potholes and largely uneven parts of the road. Tree roots have managed to grow underneath the asphalt, lifting chunks of it high enough to trip over. A year of overall disuse has the entire road littered with fallen leaves, branches, and countless coverings of debris. Jasper grunts as he trips over a well hidden crack, caught just barely in time by David as he straightens himself out.

“Christ,” he grumbles, looking ahead into the shadows of the forest, “how much further?”

David looks up and follows his gaze, the end nowhere in sight. The car ride to the camp always felt like it took way too long, while also being way too short. It took him a while to really warm up to the place, but by the time he truly started to like the place, he stopped going to camp. What can he call the memories? Happy? Bad? Bittersweet?

He looks to Jasper as their hands linked together silently. “It shouldn’t be much further.”

“I’m bankin’ on that.”

The trek isn’t the hardest one they’ve made. They’ve traversed over rockier terrains, neighborhoods ankle deep in water where fallen telephones can be anywhere out of sight, and stepped over rickety, unstable planks of wood in houses falling apart at the seams. They’ve fended off desperate, violent survivors many a time before as well, running when possible, fighting when inevitable.

They don’t talk about the blood that covers their hands.

...So yes! They have been through much, much worse. A walk through a forest with a neglected road? Should be a breeze through the park! And yet, they drag their feet as if they’re travelling through muck, looking over their shoulders with an unneeded precaution, hoping to delay the inevitable. Jasper’s memories couldn’t have been as fond as David’s, given their last year together but…

“Oh. Shit.” Jasper’s mumbled exclamation draws him out of his thoughts. “Looks like you were right, Davey.”

Turns out, they didn’t drag their feet long enough. Ahead of them stands the familiar old sign of Camp Campbell, though half the letters are missing. The rickety old sign is hanging loose and limp, the one remaining chain allowing it to swing idly as a strong wind jostles it. Apprehension grips David as he looks over the once familiar campgrounds. When did the disasters start?

When did they begin?

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Jasper looks over to David, concern clear on his face as the old camp remains eerily quiet.

“...I mean, who knows, right?” He laughs nervously and slips his hand out of Jasper’s grasp. “There might still be some supplies! Some things we can take a-and stuff…”

“Davey…”

“I know what you’re thinking.” He takes a step away from Jasper, rubbing his arm nervously as he looks up at the faded sign above them. “But I- I just want to make sure. You know? I know the disasters started just before summer hit but I- I just want to make sure.”

A hand lands lightly on his shoulder. “You sure about this? What if you find something you don’t like?”

It takes him a moment, but he finally looks over to Jasper with a wobbly smile. “I think we’ve both gotten used to that feeling by now, right?”

An uneasy smile rises to Jasper’s face as he nods. “Alright, bud. How do ya wanna do this?”

He looks ahead to where the mess hall is. The place used to be so lively but now… “Can we split up? Just to cover more ground, and stuff.”

“...Right.” A skeptical look crosses his features before Jasper’s hand lowers to squeeze his arm with a comforting smile. “Just promise me you’ll holler if something’s up, capiche?”

“Capoche.” His response gets a chuckle out of Jasper, before his eyes search his one last time before stepping back.

“Alright, let’s meet back here before the sun sets.”

“Gotcha!” David waves as Jasper wanders off to the left, disappearing from sight as he goes to explore the grounds there.

Now he's all alone. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Well, it's not a bad thing, after all. It's what he wants. It's what he... needs. He shakes his head to clear it. Right! Exploration.

Right.

He walks right into the mess hall, the old doors creaking as he forces his way in. Tables and the like are covered in dust, but otherwise look mostly untouched. Nothing seems worse for wear, but the windows have been cracked, and some are even broken. His boots crunch over the shards as he examines the windows. It's not easy to determine if the broken windows were the cause of the many natural disasters, or if they were man made, but judging by the lack of disruption and chaos in the mess hall, he can hazard a guess and blame it on the elements instead.

...Oddly enough, the mess hall smells like nothing. It's not something that should take him aback, but it does. If he remembers correctly, it always smelled like mashed potatoes and butter in here. It was a staple for every meal. Thinking back, he always hated the mashed potatoes, but Jasper loved them.

"C'mon, Davey! It's Quartermaster's specialty!"

"Ugh, well maybe he should do a better job at his specialty. It tastes like wet paper and crud!"

"Davey!"

His steps falter as he steps closer to the kitchen. They were never allowed back here but...

Well, that never stopped him as a kid, now did it?

He pushes the door open and peeks around the kitchen. Nothing much has changed except the microwave looks both newer and incredibly beaten up. A shelf catches his attention, but his nose immediately crinkles up when he realizes the foodstuffs on the shelves are nothing but perishables that have long since perished. Another door catches his eye, and if he remembers correctly, this was where the staff kept the rest of the food.

"I dunno, Davey, this doesn't seem like a good idea."

"I didn't think you were such a goody-two shoes, Jasp."

"I'm not! I just don't think you should do it during activities!"

"Exactly, no one's gonna expect us to come in during the daytime-"

"What are you two doing here, children."

"..."

"SCRAM, HURRY!"

The memory nearly pulls a laugh from him as he opens the pantry door. Like the shelf outside, all the perishables have long since succumbed to pests and mold. He picks up a can and looks at the best by date.

19... 98?

He quickly puts it back down and chooses not to think about the implications. Okay, maybe the pantry is a bust. He turns on his heel and walks back into the mess hall. The unspeakable silence makes him swallow hard. It's... unnerving to see it so empty and quiet. He can still hear the laughter and groans of disgust that used to reverberate within these very walls. As he walks past a table, he swears he hears a familiar giggle from his memories. He turns to face the childish giggle, but nothing but a shadow from his memories greets him.

...Maybe some fresh air will do him some good. All that mold is messing with his mind.

His feet take him back out and towards where he thinks the campers were supposed to stay. Noises fill in the blank spaces, excited campers making conversations from the past that he once overheard in his youth. The crunch of the dirt keeps him tethered in the present, but even as he glances to the side, he swears he can see the shadows of former friends running around in the corner of his eye. This place used to be so sunny, so bright and full of life.

Now, all he sees are the broken down remains of yellow tents. Leaves and twigs cover some of them, and a fallen tree crushes a good few of them further off. He approaches a particular one, the third one to the left, and carefully tries to set it back up. It's no use - the poles on the inside have snapped into pieces, rendering it impossible to get upright. Still, he tries to at least straighten it out. He grabs some broken branches and props it up haphazardly. It works, but it won't last. A strong breeze could topple it over.

Still. He stands back to admire his handiwork. It's strange how he's taller than the tent now. Before, it used to feel kind of big with enough space for him to do a little jump inside if he felt like it. Now, it looks sad and tiny, with its tree branches keeping it upright in a poor resemblance of its former self. It's... not the best. The sides are sagging, and it looks ready to topple into itself but...

He blinks, and he can see Jasper's childlike appearance duck out from the tent, laughing boisterously.

"Come on, Davey! We're gonna miss the bonfire!"

"We can't miss the bonfire, stupid, it's still gonna be there even if we're an hour late."

"Still! C'mon, broski!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Broski!" Jasper's young laughter fades away as he rubs his eyes. The tent topples into itself like he predicts. He sighs and looks away from its remains, instead looking towards where the dock should be. A tree blocks his path, but that's never really stopped him before, now has it?

He climbs over it with ease and follows the dirt path down to the lake. The dock is largely untouched, but the kayaks are long since gone. In the distance, he can see the familiar sight of Normal Island, but he feels no need to explore that place. If there were any survivors, maybe they would be there but...

Splashes and excited shouts fill the insides of his ears, his gaze remembering the counselors that helped kids learn how to swim, or fellow campers having summer fun by swimming around the lake and splashing each other. He considers jumping down to check under the dock, a place he used to hide under until Jasper swam under and dragged him out, but getting his pants soggy is the last thing he wants at the moment. Instead, he sits at the end of the dock and keeps himself from giving into temptation and letting his legs dangle into the lake. He looks up and sees the clear, blue sky with not a cloud in sight. If this were a normal camp day, all the campers would be going out for a pleasant hike.

No fallen trees.

No eerily silent woods.

Just a normal, noisy, exciting hike.

A shuddery sigh passes through him, and he closes his eyes. Camps aren't meant to be quiet. It's wrong. It doesn't feel right. Even when he hated the place, he'd only seen it as lively and inexplicably loud. Now it's... it's...

Dead.

The lake laps at the shore softly, but there's no laughter to accompany the noise. No splashes, no cries, no shouts. Even as he tries his hardest to remember, the loud silence is the only thing that reigns around him. That, and the sound of heavy boots marching up behind him.

"Thought I'd find you out here."

He looks over and offers a weak grin. "Hey, Jasp."

"Heya." Jasper plops down next to him, a distant look to his eyes as he stares out at Normal Island. "...Feels weird, huh?"

"Yeah..."

"Different vibe from..." He gestures vaguely before dropping his hand to his lap. "Different from broken down stores and dank cafes."

"Strange, huh?" David hugs his knees to his chest and rests his cheek against them. "We had some good memories here too, though."

"Yeah." Jasper sighs as he leans back. "Good and bad. Nothing like stealing candy bars though."

David snorts. "No, nothing like that."

"But we did steal that kayak one night."

"I stole the kayak. You were just along for the ride."

"Mr. Bad to the Bone strikes again." Jasper turns and grins with a touch of sadness to it. "You always did have this thing for stealing things as a kid."

"I did, huh?" David shrugs with a small smile. "You were the only one who seemed to notice."

"And the cashier."

"And the cashier." A small chuckle escapes him as the breeze ruffles their hair. "...So did you find anything?"

"Nah. Just some dust, expired rations, dirty mags in the counselor's cabin..."

"Jasp!"

"What?" He laughs as David lightly shoves his arm. "We're all adults here. You can't tell me you've never looked at a dirty mag before." He waggles his eyebrows and it's enough to draw a laugh out of David.

"No, I never really looked at one before. But was that all you found?"

"Yup. Nothing else." A pause. "Not a single body, not a single skeleton. Hell, I couldn't even find the Quartermaster."

"I'm pretty sure he must be dead by now."

"You think so?" Jasper raises an eyebrow at that. "That dude seemed like he could live forever. Like, I'm pretty sure I saw him stab himself with a hook once. Preeetty sure that happened."

David laughs as his thoughts circle back to Jasper's previous statement.

"So no bodies?"

"None." Jasper grins as David feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Just an empty campsite."

Not completely. David looks out to Normal Island and thinks the campsite will never quite be empty. No one truly died here, but he knows it'll always be haunted by their memories. He stands up and dusts himself off before reaching a hand out to Jasper. "Just an empty campsite."

Jasper takes his hand, and he pulls him up with ease. "Ya ready to bounce from this joint?"

David takes one last look around the place. A part of him wants to look around more thoroughly, maybe explore the activities field one last time, or walk into the mess hall one last time, but the weight of the memories might crush him even if Jasper's by his side. And besides, he trusts Jasper's words when he says there's nothing left for them here. He smiles as he nods his head.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go."

"Sweet." Jasper leans in for a quick peck on the cheek, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into the back of his hand. "Where to next?"

"Don't know." David leads them back to the entrance of the camp, where the rickety sign continues to swing and perhaps will always continue to swing. "Wherever the path takes us?"

"Sounds like a valid reason to me."

They walk away from the remains of their past, never knowing if they'll ever come back to revisit it. A part of David hopes that they will come back to the old campgrounds. Maybe life will one day return to this old shell of a place. Maybe it will forever remain lifeless like today.

He's not sure what is left for a place like this.

"Wanna watch me try and vault over that tree like an Olympic track star?"

"Jasp, don't-"

"Too late!"

"Jasper!"

There's a lot of maybes on his mind. But maybe something will change someday for the better. Jasper laughs as he runs at the fallen tree in front of them, only to trip and smack his face against the bark. David yells and comes to his aid and is met with boisterous laughter, and he can't help but join his fallen boyfriend in his fit of giggles.

Maybe.

But until then, he'll cling onto these old memories. If these are all that remains of this old place, then he'll hold onto each one in its memory. For the sake of the place where they met.

”Hey, you’ll come back next summer, right?”

“No way, dweeb.”

“...Aw. Then how are we gonna meet again?”

“...Stop looking at me like that. Fine. Fine! I’ll come back next year!”

“Radical! That’s a promise, right? Pinky promise me!”

“Ugh, fine, you nerd.”

For the sake of their memories, he’ll let it rest fondly in his heart. Until he can finally leave them all to rest.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #post apocalyptic au #jaspvid #godddd these are all gonna be late #im so sorry #also these are all going to be unbetaed #im gonna try and keep these Not Long #lmao i ended up getting attached to this au im such a fool #well i started 2020 with this au might as well keep up the trend #AMIRIGHT FOLKS #hopefully i can produce #new things and new ideas #i know i will be reusing another au for another day but like #its cute lmao TuT #jaspvidweek2021 #I KNEWW I WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING

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kpop-cakepops · 3 years

Text

So... We Love Each Other? // Vernon Chwe

Friends to Lovers au.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3,878

Warnings: None.

"The rule to remember is that opposites attract. Every magnet has both a north and a south pole. When you place the north pole of one magnet near the south pole of another magnet, they are attracted to one anothe-"

You switched the television off whatever kid's show had been on. It was an early Friday morning and you had accidentally fallen asleep with the TV on the night before.

The night before.

If only you could you would erase the entire night from your memory and just live your life as if it had never happened. Too bad you didn't have the power to do that, nor did you know anyone that could.

With a distraught sigh, you push yourself from your bed and drag your feet in the direction of your kitchen only to be startled by your best friend and roommate Vernon, who was standing with his back pressed against the counter.

"Holy crap. You scared me!" You exclaimed holding at your chest to alleviate the rapid beating of your heart.

"You're one to talk. Mingyu is now officially terrified of you and wants you to pretend not to know him. He stated, and I quote, 'I've never seen someone get so upset over turtles.' He is also making me pay him back for the date." The younger boy glares at you and chugs down the rest of his chocolate milk. "Care to explain how you managed to ruin a blind date with Mingyu? Kim Mingyu?! The epitome of tolerance and acceptance?!"

You winced at every word he spoke until you finally broke and dropped to the floor. "Animal life preservation" you mumbled. "He brought up my favorite books and then he started talking about animals and I got excited, and may have spoken a little too much about saving the turtles"

"Y/N, I'm running out of friends to set you up with. Seungcheol joined the army as an excuse to not see you, Jeonghan moved to the dormitories on the other side of the campus, Soonyoung said he'll never date again... are you cursed? Should we see a shaman?"

You grunted from your spot on the ground before standing. "Just stop setting me up with people. I don't think I'm cut out for this dating thing... maybe I should join a convent and become a nun?” You asked him as you grabbed a bowl to pour cereal into it. “Maybe it’s a sign from the heavens, I should learn the ways of God and become the next Mother Teresa."

Vernon’s face softened slightly at the sight of you defeatedly picking at your fingernails but instead rolled his eyes and moved you out of his way when you turned to face him. "Move. You're hopeless and I have class. I swear if I come back to find out you've called the local church I will send Seungcheol all your embarrassing love letters, and before you ask, yes, they are under my custody."

"Excuse me?! Hey come back here! You little- I'm older than you!”

“It’s just a year” he retorted.

"Yeah?! Well, blackmailing is illegal you know!”

He was gone.

Seeing that you had already missed your first class of the day, you decided to take the entire day off as a day to self reflect and find your zen. (You also didn't want to see Kim Mingyu again, so staying home would probably be the best option for you.) Promptly you grabbed your favorite book and flopped onto the only couch in the apartment throwing your legs up against the wall and pretending to read when in reality you were contemplating dropping out of your ethics class to entirely avoid Mingyu... and Jeonghan...

After about 2 hours the front door of your apartment swung open and in walked Vernon’s girlfriend Minji. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you, her already red face became even redder as she muffled a scream into her hands and stomped in direction of your roommate’s bedroom.

“Uhhhh...” You rolled yourself off the couch and instantly scattered for your phone, dialing Vernon’s number quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um just a real quick question. By any chance did you and Minji fight again?” you asked as you heard things tumbling around inside Vernon’s room.

“Damn it. I told her not to show up at the apartment. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Please protect my shoe collection with your life, Y/N. It’s all I ask of you.”

The line was cut before you could muster up a response. A loud crash rumbled down the hall and you found yourself sighing. It was time for you to step in as usual, which was probably the thing you most hated to do, especially since your best friend’s girlfriend wasn’t exactly fond of you.

With careful steps, you moved in direction of Vernon’s bedroom and knocked lightly. “Hey, Minji... you in there?” After a few seconds of receiving no response you called out again, “Minji? I’m gonna come in okay?” slowly you opened the door only for your mouth to fall agape.

A crying Minji was sitting on the floor surrounded by Vernon’s clothes, his drawers pulled open and emptied while his closet doors remained open with yet another mess made up of his clothes, some with hangers still in. “Jesus Christ, Minji, what is this mess?! You haven’t even been here 5 minutes!” you exclaimed walking further inside to try and salvage the room.

“What do you care?! These aren’t your things, Vernon isn’t your boyfriend! So what do you care?!” She yelled standing up from her spot on the ground.

“I care because this is my house, and these are Vernon’s things. Being his pissed off girlfriend does not give you the right to just storm in here and start ripping his bedroom apart! We’re hoping to get the deposit for this apartment back when we move out!” you fought back as you picked up your friend’s clothes off the floor and placed them on the bed.

“... stop referring to Vernon as part of your ‘we.’ Do you have any idea how fucking annoying you are? Do you have any idea how much I hate you?!”

You stopped in your tracks and looked over at her in disbelief. “Don’t you think you’re being unfair right now? I’m having as much a rough day as you are and you break into my house to make a ruckus? Do you really think I like you? All you’ve done since you started dating Vernon is push me away from him as his friend, it was like you decided I was the enemy before you even met me. You’ve been nothing but a bitch to me, so do you think I like you?!” You didn’t know where all the resentment was coming from, maybe the words had a cutting edge on them because of the amount of stress you were under what with the failed Mingyu date and your upcoming exams... whatever the reason, you wanted to hurt her feelings.

She looked shocked by your words. Understandably so, you hadn’t ever really talked back to her when she threw a tantrum, usually Vernon would take her away before anything could escalate.

“You must be really happy. Look at you getting brave, you must be really happy to be the reason Vernon won’t marry me. You must be really happy to know he wants to break up with me over you. You’re dead wrong if you think I’m going to allow you both to date peacefully. I’d rather DIE than see you both together, you hear me?! I’ll make both your lives a living hell” Her erratic words felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on you.

"Minji... what do think you’re doing?” Vernon was finally home. You looked over at him to find that his eyes were trained on you as he walked up. “Are you okay?” he asked grabbing you by the shoulders and looking for any signs of a fight.

You nodded your head and pushed the shirt that was in your hand into his chest. “Get her the hell out of this house before I have an aneurism,” you told him quietly before walking out of his room and straight into yours.

With your back pressed to your bedroom door, you heard Minji go into another yelling fit while your best friend calmly tried to deescalate the situation. You rolled your eyes at the sound of him being the nicest while Minji continued to vociferate. It was always like that, you wondered why he always put up with her when she obviously only ever used him as a trophy boyfriend.

You plopped down on your bed putting in your earbuds in an attempt to drown out the outside noise. Only then were you able to process what had just happened. You knew you’d been wrong to vent your frustrations out on Minji who wasn’t really at fault for your failed love life... but it’s not like you were at fault for her failed love life either, right?

“ you must be really happy to know he wants to break up with me over you.”

What had she even meant by that? Was Vernon really thinking about breaking up with her? Even if he were thinking about doing it, how would that be your fault? Everything was starting to become too much for you, the gold medalist of the overthinking Olympics, so you decided to block everything out and do the one thing you were best at: sleep.

---

It had been 2 weeks since your disaster Mingyu date and the epic Minji and Vernon showdown. Minji had not stepped foot in your apartment since and Vernon, who had kept quiet about the entire situation, was rarely home. The number of times you’d seen him in the last 2 weeks were so small that you could probably count them in one hand.

Truth be told, you hadn’t exactly made an effort to talk to him either. You knew if you talked to him you’d ask about Minji and that would lead to a conversation about his fight, which would lead to you asking why Minji blamed you for it. God forbid he say something like ‘I like you’ right? Or were you more worried about him saying he didn’t?

A soft groan left your lips as you allowed your head to drop onto your desk. You were overthinking again. You were almost sure your head was going to burst suddenly.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to find Mingyu standing next to your table with his hands in his pockets. “What’s up?” you asked as you grabbed your bag and shoved your laptop inside.

Mingyu looked at you with raised eyebrows and handed you a shopping bag with what looked like clothes. “These are Vernon’s can you give them to him?” he asked.

You took the bag from him and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll get it to him.” With that, you walked around him and started to leave the lecture hall not really having anything else to say.

“Um... hey, wait.” his hand was around your arm and you looked at him expectantly. He dropped his grip embarrassed before he scratched at the back of his neck. “Aren’t you gonna... ask why I didn’t call you?”

You frowned a little, “Call me? why would you...oh! The date!” you chuckled. Funny how only 2 weeks ago avoiding Mingyu was all you could think about.

The tall boy blinked confused, “Y-you forgot we went on a date?”

“What? no... kind of... but it’s okay! I understand you’re not about that ‘SAVE THE TURTLES’ life”

“Save the turtles?” He questioned.

“Vernon told me what you said, and I’ll be the first to admit that I can get pretty scary when I talk about animal life conservation. You can act like I don’t exist if I make you uncomfortable, I regret my actions, but it’s not that important.”

“it’s not?” he asked.

You hummed in response. “By the way, has Vernon been staying at your place? Truth is he hasn’t been coming home for the past 2 weeks. I heard him and Minji broke up...and I guess I was a little worried”

Mingyu smiled to himself, “Hold on, do you seriously think I didn’t call you because you got excited over saving the turtles?” the tall boy couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys are seriously so stupid.”

“Excuse me?” you queried unsure as to why you were suddenly being called stupid.

He patted your head, “You’re a beautiful and smart girl, Y/N. Getting excited over the turtles was actually kind of hot. Jeonghan thinks so too...”

You couldn’t help but choke out a soft “He does?”

“Of course he does. It’s the Vernon part that pushes a man away.” Mingyu told you. “He was staying at my place after Minji dumped him for not wanting to get more serious about her... but I kicked him out last night. His wallet is in the bag and so are his keys to your place... you should probably go check on him”

You couldn’t help but stare at Mingyu as he left. “It’s the Vernon part that pushes a man away? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” there was a part of you that was offended for your friend. He had been nothing but sweet and caring...

Before he could leave, you ran after Mingyu and cut him off by stomping your foot in front of him. “You... I take back what I said. I don’t regret my actions on that night. In fact, I’m glad you didn’t call me back because I would never date a man that doesn’t like Vernon. Do you have any idea how much he has helped me? He listens to me, he takes care of me when I feel down, he makes me laugh even though he’s possibly the least funny person I have ever met, he left a comfortable dorm life with his best friends so that I could afford living close campus, he pretends to not care that I use his body wash when mine runs out even though I know he hates it, he puts up with my crazy ideas even if they fail... which they do 90% of the time-”

“Only 90%?” asks Mingyu with a raised eyebrow.

“OKAY MAYBE 99%, but that’s not the point! Vernon is the best friend anyone could ask for and if the guy I’m dating doesn’t like him, then I don’t want it. ALSO, YOU’RE A FAKE FRIEND. BAD MOUTHING HIM BEHIND HIS BACK. You ought to be embarrassed!” You could feel your face redden as you ranted away only for Mingyu’s face to light up in a soft smile.

“Do you even hear yourself?” he asked. “It’s not that the men in your life don’t like Vernon... it’s that none of us can compete with him.”

“What?”

“It was pretty intimidating to sit through my first date with you and hear you say all these wonderful things about Vernon... it made me realize you are both idiots that don’t realize what’s right in front of you even if it hits you in the face...” you opened your mouth to speak but were stopped by Mingyu’s large hand pressing over your lips. “...so let me help you out a little. You’re in love with Vernon and that Idiot is very much in love with you too. All you ever talk about is Vernon and all Vernon does is date dumb stuck up girls because apparently, that is easier than telling you how he really feels. So how about you do all of us a favor and go back home and talk your feelings out? You know, like two grown adults.”

Your face went slack unable to say anything back to that. You weren’t sure if you were in agreeance or absolutely baffled by everything Mingyu had just said, but you had the whole walk back home to figure it all judging by the fact that Mingyu had already walked away from you.

After what seemed like an eternity you decided to take the 15-minute walk home and face your best friend... or crush... or possibly the love of your life, as you had eventually concluded after sitting in your empty lecture hall for 30 minutes. You were ready...

Or so you thought.

The moment the elevator doors slid open to reveal your floor, your eyes landed on Vernon’s slumped form against the door of your apartment dressed in his favorite pink pajama pants. That sight alone was enough for you to freeze in your spot with your finger deeply pressing the ‘door open’ button, but your feet unable to take the ONE step needed to get out of the elevator.

“Y/N?”

There it was, the little push you needed. Vernon was staring at you from his spot on the ground, hair tousled and dark circles framing his pretty eyes.

“Hey” you mustered raising the shopping bag in your hand. “I have your stuff,” you told him as you watched him stand up.

“Cool... why are you standing inside the elevator?” he questioned nodding over at you.

You looked around you realizing then that you had not left the safety of the elevator. With a forced out cough, you stepped out and over to him. “You want to come in?” You asked gesturing to the door of your apartment only to wish you could melt into the ground below you.

“Yeah, I live here” he stated the obvious.

You stopped yourself from saying anything else and simply opened the door for both of you. Vernon, as expected, beelined for his bedroom leaving you behind with his things. Things were very obviously awkward... maybe subconsciously you’d known it’d be like this if you ever faced your feelings for Vernon... but it seemed there was no turning back anymore.

You knocked on Vernon’s bedroom door but were greeted by the sound of the shower running instead. With a small sigh, you walked back to your own room to wait for him to finish up before finally starting the conversation you’d been preparing yourself for since your talk with Mingyu.

After minutes of sitting on your bed feeling antsy and nervous, you decided to go check on Vernon again. With a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock on his bedroom door, but before you could react, his door had swung open and instead of the door, you knocked him on the face. “Oh shit!”

“Dude, what the hell?”

“Vernon, I am so sorry!” you scrambled over to his doubled over form and grabbed at his arms trying to get a better view of his face. “I didn’t mean to hit you!”

“It’s fine, don’t worry, you still can’t pack a punch, I’m fine,” he assured you as he grabbed at your shoulders, a soft smile gracing his lips as he looked into your eyes for the first time since you had left the elevator.

Unknowingly, tears began to fill your eyes. Not only had you missed him for the past two weeks, but now being face to face, looking at him as he smiled at you, made you realize how right Mingyu was.

“Are you crying?” he asked, the smile dropping from his face.

“Vernon...” you looked straight at him as you spoke, you had to get it done now or never. “why did you break up with Minji?”

Almost instantly, Vernon moved his eyes away from yours. “Don’t worry about it. Whatever she said, don’t let it bother you.”

You slowly trailed behind him as he made his way to the kitchen. “So it wasn’t because of me?”

He stopped and turned around, “Because of you? Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about my failed love life.” he teased as he ruffled your hair.

You grabbed his hand and shook your head, “I’m not. I’m trying to figure out if I’m in love with my best friend all by myself or if he’s in love with me too.”

Vernon’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find words to your very sudden confession. “In- in love?”

Oh god... You were starting to hyperventilate. Was Mingyu an idiot? Did Vernon not like you like you liked him?

“Oh my god...” heat was starting to crawl up your neck. “Did I read it all wrong? Oh my god... Oh my god, I’m going to actually kill him. Why did I let him talk me into saying this?”

“I do.”

“What?”

“Love you.” He said. His face was as red as you imagined yours to be. The room became silent suddenly. You had been so adamant on finally confessing your feelings to Vernon that you hadn’t managed to think what would happen after that.

“So... we love each other?” you asked like an idiot still avoiding his eyes.

“I mean, I guess so.” he chuckled nervously, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so used to going on blind dates and never getting past the first date that like... what now?” You asked.

Vernon cleared his throat and took a step forward, his hip bumping against yours. “Well, for starters... can I kiss you?”

You squealed. “Why did you ask me, now I’m embarrassed!” you smacked his arm making him laugh.

“Fine, we don’t have to” he shrugged his shoulders and started for the kitchen once again.

Before you could help it your hand grabbed at the end of his t-shirt stopping him, “Wait... I said I’m embarrassed, not that you shouldn’t kiss me.” You mumbled.

“Well shit... now I’m embarrassed” He laughed.

With a surge of bravery, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his. You could feel his breath catch in his throat as you did which made you internally panic. Did he not like it? Yet almost as if he’d read your mind he wrapped his arms around your waist almost as if holding you in place, reassuring you that it was fine.

It was more than fine, really. Your heart was racing and tummy fluttering like it’d never done before. You never would have imagined Vernon’s lips were that soft and sweet... or maybe you had, you’d just never admit it to yourself.

Not wanting to, but rather having to, you pulled away from the kiss. “If I’d know you were this good a kisser, I probably would’ve admitted my feelings a long time ago” you joked.

“Is it normal that I’m so happy I could cry?” he asked as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I wouldn’t say normal, but judging by the fact that I could also cry, I’d say it’s understandable”

“Does this mean I can start sleeping in the master bedroom with you now?” he asked.

“Wine and dine me first, sweetheart. I’m a woman of dignity.”

“If I wine and dine you tonight, do I get to sleep on your king-sized bed?” he walked you towards the kitchen counter until he had you trapped.

“Maybe... If you agree to be my boyfriend, I would positively consider it.”

#hansol vernon chwe #vernon chwe #vernon fanfic #vernon au #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen vernon #seventeen hip hop unit #svt hansol #hansol chwe #kpop au #Vernon fluff #Vernon Chwe fluff #vernon oneshot #Vernon Chwe oneshot

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liria10 · 3 years

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Favorite Benny books?

Ok so. Tumblr crashed as I was typing this on mobile. I am retyping it on desktop cause fuck this site, and I Have Opinions, and my friend I will let you hear them or so help me!

.... This got. Really. Really long. I am adding a read more to spare you guys from that.

Ok so! As a preface, I haven't read many VNAs with Benny in it, and of her solo books, I still have 2 of her Legion books to read.

I'm going to (re)start this with the VNAs!

Love and War: a very classic answer perhaps, but it is a really good introduction for Benny, even if the book has its flaws and can certainly show its age nowadays. Cornell absolutely nails her right off the bat, and from her very first page, Benny is just a character that keeps you interested. Not only does she work great as a counter to both Seven and Ace, but she also brings a breath of life to the whole range the way only a prose character can.

Plus, I think one of the greatest successes of that book lies in how Benny appears as a rounded and flawed person from the beginning. She’s not your ordinary girl dragged to a whirlwind of adventure and an universe of wonders, but an older, adult woman, with a good chunk of life experience and adventures already behind her, and while setting foot inside the TARDIS opens up a new and unexpected chapter in her life, it does also remain just that. A chapter. Benny had a life before the Doctor, and from that moment, while noone could have predicted it then, she would have one after him as well.

The Left-Handed Hummingbird: I just finished that one last week, so it’s obviously both fresh in my mind, and one I'm thinking highly of at the moment. Well I mean, it’s Orman! Or course I love it. She really is great at writing both intricate, large stories, and yet focusing on the personal, on the human side of things. And I find that this book does a great job at putting benny in the role of the grounding presence both for ace and the doctor, as well as exploring how time traveling as they do, and dealing with seven’s schemes can be frustrating for benny. That whole tardis team is a mess, and none of these people really… work well together, but it’s because they’re so dysfunctioning that they’re fascinating, and orman absolutely nails that.

Theater of War: A very different type of book, it is honestly a fun romp, and it has Benny being an actual archeologist, down to dealing with the academia side of things. And it’s the little things, but I love it when Benny books remember that about her tbh? Also, it has some nice theater theming, and well, as an introduction for brax, it certainly works well! It’s one of those VNAs that I think is just fun. A well crafted story with good takes on the characters, that’s always enjoyable to me!

Return of the Living Dad: Orman again?? What a surprise! But frankly, I love how this book is all about Benny and her daddy issues, be it with the Doctor or well, her actual dad. Between that, her budding marriage with Jason, and finding out so many old wounds reopened, I just. Really love how raw Benny can be under Orman’s pen? How underneath it all, she still has that side of the scared orphan that lost both parents to a war she was far, far too young to ever comprehend, and how that just left her rebelling against the world in general, and resenting deep down her parents for that abandon. I mean, it’s neat character stuff, but it can very easily be written as dull & cliche shitte you know? And Orman really… always get down to the heart of it all, and boi does it make for some great reading.

The Dying Days: It’s a very fun book, and well, technically works as the first round for Benny as the lead woman after all! It’s a joy all throughout, triumphant where it needs to be, and managing to both celebrate the Doctor and what he brought to the VNAs, as well as setting up the stage for Benny to go on to her own range. It’s basically one last run of the old team, and well. I do love Benny & Eight, and yes I am blaming Parkin for it. Also, big brained take to have Eight give her Wolsey because I love that cat and Benny deserves a cute kitty in her life. We all do.

Ok!! Now on to the NA, and my personal favorite era!

Dragon’s Wrath: It’s a fun one!! I do really like the story being centered again on archeology first and foremost, and it’s a good romp that has some really good take on Benny. Especially the trial scenes, I love how those one get down to Benny as someone who despite everything, loves history, and cares very very deeply about the artifacts she uncovers. Also, it introduces brax as a mainstay of the dellah era, and does so in a rather nice way. Overall, a very enjoyable book!

Beyond the Sun: Benny & students stranded on a planet with mystery to uncover, that’s already a fun premise, and then throw in all the various queer themes present, especially with Emile, and the whole scene of them all in drag performing on top of a bus, and it’s just a rather good book. Plus, I love how it mirrors the whole VNA Doctor mantra, except with a very Benny twist. Sometimes cruel, sometimes cowardly, but trying her damndest to do good. And well, that’s just Benny isn’t it? I always harp on about the very heart of Benny being her humanity, and if there’s something that book highlights, it’s that.

Deadfall: Jason takes center stage in this one, and well, I do really love Jason. It’s overall a fun book with some nice lore ideas, and I love how it works Cwej in the whole Dellah setting. Also, at least it’s a story with Jason in the lead that doesn’t end in utter tragedy, and that’s always nice!

Tempest: Ok so. That book isn’t great. The story’s cliche, the characters aren’t the best, and the plot itself? Forgettable, it’s another in the list of “sort of base under siege story in the dellah era” which you’d think wouldn’t be super common and yet! So… why am I listing it here? Cause the concept of the planet!! The idea of a world of storms and disaster, run through via a blind train as the only means of transport? The fantastic animal life described in it??? That book left an impression of me, and that’s not something I can say of all of the others.

The Medusa Effect: … Justin Richard writes a good Benny. Like, legit. I love how that one really works with the setting & history of Dellah, and gives further information on the planet’s involvement with the Dalek war. Plus, it also got some really, really nice aesthetics. I am soft for good aesthetics ok? Benny, dancing with a skeleton on the deck of an old spaceship made to look like a cruise liner in an hallucination/dream sequence type of thing? Sign me right up!

Beige Planet Mars: That one is a blast. I remember just, absolutely loving it when I read it tbh. Between the overall description of Mars, the further Lore Implication of the Mars invasion & all that, as well as it basically being one last round of more… Normal dellah books before everything goes to hell? It’s one i’d highly recommend if you want to have a good time.

Tears of the Oracle: Probably my favorite of that whole range? (apart from dead romance, which I am not counting as a benny book) I love just, how much overall… feelings isn’t quite the words i’m looking for, but i can’t think of a better way to put it… there is throughout the book? It was thought to be the end of the NA as it was written and well, that shows. I love how it weaves the whole mystery of “what happened to that legendary archaeologists?” with the whole side of what’s basically some of the only survivors from dellah going on one last round of discovery. The status quo of the range was destroyed quite a few books before that one, but imo, it’s there that they take the time to stop for a bit, and just. Deals with what that means in actuality. And ngl, I love the entire sequence of Benny & Brax walking through the wreckage of what used to be their home, it’s a scene that works really, really well.

And well, it does a great job at setting up the future as well after all! Yes, there’s still 3 books after it, but when you look at where Big Finish picked up… they went for what Tears of the Oracle was setting up. It really makes the transition flows well between those two, unlike my rambling for a full paragraph before going to “here’s the BF books I like”

The Doomsday Manuscript: A very good start for the range! Not only does it set up the whole collection, but it also introduces the Fifth Axis as a major threat, and does so in a wonderfully well paced book that keeps you hooked throughout. I like how it also sets up Jason’s loss as something Benny is still suffering over, as well as how she hasn’t lost hope in finding him again. Plus frankly, it’s also a really good story.

The Glass Prison: You’d think that for a book where Benny spends the majority of it in prison and not very active due to being near the end of her pregnancy, not much would happen, but the way Jacqueline Rayner builds up an atmosphere of unease, mistrust and a genuine disturbing ambiance throughout the book is just, fantastic.

Genius Loci: This book. This book!!! Ben Aaronovitch writes an absolutely powerful story of Benny as a young woman, lost and finding herself faced with far more responsibility than she ever thought possible. The way he writes the whole mystery, while also making Benny as a 20yo not only believable, but quite distinct from Benny as the adult we’ve all come to know and love is just. So good. My main grip with this book is how abruptly it ends, and how we’ll never get the sequel. I want to read Terra Incognita and more of Benny slowly finding herself damn it!

Dead Men Diaries: Just like Doomsday Manuscript, does a great job at establishing the collection as well as the recurring cast. I really enjoy most of the stories in it, and I think BF started out so strong on those books srsly!

A Life in Pieces: I love it so much. It’s pure brax at his most manipulative, and for such petty reasons. I really like how it both deals with the aftermath of the Fifth Axis occupation, as well as the repercussions Brax’s schemes have for the people living on the collection. Also, it’s just 3 very good novellas in a row that build up to something more, and I always like seeing that.

Nobody’s Children: That book has the best Draconian story in the entirety of doctor who and related. Like, yeah just that. It’s also nice to see the fallout of the Mim/Draconian war. It’s one I didn’t expect a lot out of, and frankly, I ended up really loving it.

The Vampire Curse: The middle novella is one I absolutely hated, but the other two are really good, and mixing benny and vampires is just, very fun. Also!! Predating the Predator is in it, and it is a really good take on vampires in a science fiction setting that also has some nice creep factor as well, and manages to be both a good vampire story, and a good sci fi story, which isn’t always an easy balance to find.

Life During Wartime: It’s a surprisingly hard hitting anthology about living under a fascist regime, and the compromises you have to make, the personal sacrifices and small rebellions. Honestly, there’s a lot I love about it, but certainly one of my favorite moment, is when Benny, having to dine with one of the officers, miss jones & jason, sees that the officer is nearly on to her hiding peter away, and that split second moment of “if I have to, I am willing to kill everyone in this room to protect my son” before he just laughs it off, it’s a lot of tiny moments that build up to a really well done ambiance tbh.

Something Changed: While it did the terrible, terrible sin of introducing Doggles to the world, I really love the concept of every chapter after the first being a different split universe, and how they’re all spiraling more & more out of control. It’s got some really good stories in between too, though they can also be rather hit & miss. An aspect I love about it too is how impactful Wolsey’s death ends up being.

Present Danger: That one is fun, I love how it’s basically everyone vs the deindum, a situation slipping more and more out of control, mixed with some neat stuff one the deindum’s whole temporal deal. It’s again a bit hit & miss, but it’s still a blast, and as the last anthology of the collection era, it does send it all off with a bang.

Welp. Far, far too many words later, and here we are!!! I love Benny a lot ngl, and I genuinely think that prose is the medium best suited for her. I have been rather disappointed with the more modern books, I find them far more bland than what I personally expect from Benny but ah well. Can’t always get everything.

And while it’s neither a book, nor even an official story in any mean, the fanfic “Sepelio” that’s an Hannibal au set in the Dellah era is great, and the benny story I have been enjoying the most lately. I would be remiss not to at least mention it!

#ask #ask tag #bernice summerfield #.... Look I love benny probably a bit too much for my own good

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

The Other Woman ~ JJK [Request]

↬↬↬word count: 2.3K

↬↬↬Pairing: Jungkook x OtherWoman!Reader

↬↬↬genre: fluffy, mild angst, mentions of cheating

Jungkook looked at himself in the mirror as he straightened up his tie, he knew what he was about to do was wrong but he didn't care all he cared about was being able to see you after the long and terrible week he'd been having at work. He'd been craving your touch all week and he wasn't going to let the fact that he was married get in the way of that.

"Are you sure you have to go?" His wife asked as she came back into the room carrying a small suitcase - it was what he used whenever he had business trips to go on but this time it wasn't a business trip. He was going to see you it had been so long since you got to spend time together he was going to stay the entire weekend.

"I'm sure, do you have plans?" She draped her arms around his neck and pulled him back into her grasp, trying to kiss him but he pulled away to do his tie up and make up an excuse to leave sooner than planned.

"Will you just leave?" You questioned your roommate who was also one of your best friends, she'd been acting off with you all week but you knew what it was. You knew it was because Jungkook was coming over and she knew he was married,

"It's wrong, you know that right?" You ignored her trying to remember if you'd gotten the bed sheets changed over or if you still had to do it before he got there.

"Yes I've heard this speech from you a million times and I don't want to-"

"He'll never leave her. He'll promise you over and over again that it's you he loves but he doesn't. You're nothing but a piece on the side like the skank you are." Those were her final words before she slammed the door shut in your face leaving you to stare at the glass panels. She'd been expressing her disgust for what you and Jungkook had been doing from the moment she walked in on you both together and saw his ring.

"Everything alright Jisoo just stormed-" Jungkook stopped himself from talking when he came face to face with you in the doorway,

"She called me a skank..." He dropped his bag on the floor and took your hands in his wanting you to look at him but you wouldn't, you were avoiding his gaze trying to figure out if she was right about it or not. Would he really leave his wife for you?

"I'm all yours, come on." You felt your heart pick up at the words and he walked through to your living room sitting down on the sofa, dragging you down to straddle him.

"I'm all yours for the weekend okay?" His hand was cupping your cheek as he said that, for the weekend, that was all you got and even with that the second his wife called he would go back to her.

"Do you have to go back?" You questioned looking down at him as he ran his hands up and down your sides, there was no way this was just about sex because you and Jungkook hardly spent time having sex. You would much rather spend time together, talking, eating or going to the place where you met, god you could still remember that like it was yesterday...

The day had been one disaster after another, first, you'd broken a heel of your favourite shoes on the way to work, then your bag dropped onto the floor knocking the contents into a puddle and ruining everything you'd been working on for weeks. Then your co-worker practically stole your presentation and got the promotion you were supposed to get.

"Fuck," You cried out as you went crashing into someone knocking a fresh hot cup of coffee down your white shirt, knocking you to the floor and cutting your knee open on the gravel. You were ready to scream at whoever it was for knocking you down like this but when you looked up his tattooed hand was outstretched for you to take and help stand up.

"Thanks," You mumbled looking down at your bloody knee, you went to put pressure down to walk when you knee buckled from underneath you.

"S-Shit." You didn't want to sit and cry in front of a many you didn't know,

"I really hurt you didn't I? I'm so sorry." He sounded truly sorry for what he'd done but whenever you looked at him you just seemed to get lost in his eyes and the way they would sparkle when you looked into them.

"N-No I'm okay." You went to apply pressure again only to buckle underneath your own weight and fall into his arms,

"We should get you seen to," He helped you stumble over to a bench where he took a closer look at your knee, his fingers running across the graze trying to see if there was anything caught inside it.

"I think it's just a bruise, I'll be okay." You wanted to push him away from you but having him close to you like that was sending sparks up and down your body. The way he looked at you sent butterflies loose in your stomach and all you wanted to do was jump on top of him right then and there and kiss him...What were you saying?! You didn't even know him yet here you were already planning what your wedding flowers were going to be?

"I'm Jungkook," He linked your arm around the back of his neck and told you to lean on him to walk,

"Y/n." You grunted back to him as you began stumbling in the direction towards the train station car park,

"I drove here today, do you have a car?" He questioned looking down at you and wondering where you would keep keys on an outfit like that, you had no handbag and you clearly didn't have pockets with a skirt like that.

"I catch a taxi, take me over to the bay and I'm sure I'll be fine." You whimpered slowly starting to be able to put pressure on your knee but not wanting to admit that to the sexy guy who was helping you out.

"I insist you let me take you home." You scoffed at him,

"How do I know you're not some creepy stalker or serial killer?" He chuckled hearing your snarky response to him it only made him feel for you more.

"Well how about I promise you I'm not?" You scoffed once again and he knew that wasn't going to be enough to convince you that he wasn't some stalker serial killer who just wanted to kill you.

You laid there staring at the ceiling while Jungkook laid beside you snoring softly, you turned over to watch him and you felt your heart pound. His ring was still on his finger, your mind kept going back to everything your roommate had been saying to you. The names she's called you - she'd called you more in the days leading up to the weekend, she disapproved of this heavily and normally you would too but there was something about Jungkook. He just had that power to make you feel like this was the right thing to do, that his life back home wasn't the one that he wanted and this one was, this was his true life and he would come to you.

"You're thinking about her aren't you?" You jumped a little hearing his voice come out of nowhere, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to lay across his chest wanting to feel you close to him.

"Is she right?" You weren't going to beat around it anymore, you wanted answers and you wanted them now. You had to know if he was serious about leaving his wife or if he was going to keep doing this to you, having one-off nights together only to go back to her and tell her god knows what. It was destroying you on the inside, the thought of wrecking a home but you knew he wasn't happy so that should be enough to make you feel less guilty...But it didn't.

"Is who right?" He yawned opening his eyes to see you properly, your hands were holding one another as you nervously played with the skin around your fingers,

"Jisoo...Is she right? That you won't leave your wife for me?" He let out a sigh and that was answer enough for you, it was an answer that you didn't want. The sigh meant that he wasn't put as much thought into it as you thought he had, you thought he'd spent as much time as he could thinking about it like you had. Fuck it had you up at night and yet to him it was normal?

"Right." You got out of the bed in a flash and he stared at you wondering what he'd done wrong when you told him to leave, that you wanted him out of the apartment before you got out of the bathroom,

"Why!? I didn't-"

"Exactly, this has been going on for 5 months and you haven't done anything. Jungkook I can't keep doing this, I'm the bad guy here." You said to him, tears spilling down your face as you looked at him. You wanted him yo see how you felt about all of this, that it was tearing you apart inside to know what you were doing to his wife.

"I've been on the other side of this, it's not nice. You need to tell her or we stop." You folded your arms across your chest, you were serious about this now that you weren't going to joke about it.

"Y/n-"

"Jungkook please, knowing what we're doing...It hurts me." He looked at you and nodded his head, he stood up and began packing his things. That was all it took, you turned our back on him and walked into the bathroom running the taps so he couldn't hear you bursting into tears while he walked away as if all of this had meant nothing to him.

"I told you he'd leave," Jisoo said a week later when she finally decided to come back to you. She was going to say sorry for everything she'd said when she found you crying in your bed, you looked like you hadn't showered in days so that was the first thing she'd forced you into.

"I thought he loved me." You whimpered throwing the spoon down into the empty ice cream tub in front of you and rolling your head onto her lap. She was playing with your hair while you waited for the pizza to get there,

"I know babes and I-" She stopped when the doorbell sounded, she took the money from the table and left you there to wallow alone for a couple of seconds.

"Thanks- Oh. Hello. What do you want?!" You snapped up when you heard her tone change, you looked through the door of the living room to see Jungkook at the door covered in sweat and panting heavily.

"Kook?" You got up from the sofa but Jisso wouldn't let you near him not until she knew what his angle was and what he was attempting to get out of coming to you tonight.

"Jisoo please, I left her. I filed papers, I've signed everything and I left her." Your eyes widened as you heard the words leaving his mouth, he left her? After all this time of promising you? He left her just like that and came straight to you.

"How do we know it's true?" Jisoo was speaking on your behalf and you were thankful for it because you would have taken him at his word and thrown yourself all over him.

"I've been moving out all week, I'm in a new place which is why I'm here...I wanted to take Y/n there," Your heart was racing at the thought of just running off with him but again Jisoo stood in your way.

"She's not free tonight, she's free tomorrow though and she'll be home by 11 pm." Jungkook nodding willing to do anything to get on Jisoo's side, she may have been 4''11 but she was 4''11 of pure anger and torture whenever you made her mad you.

"Yes, Ma'am." He glanced at you over in the back of the living room and smiled, you pointed up to your bedroom window and he nodded winking at you.

"If she catches me here your curfew will be cut," You groaned at him as he threw himself onto the safe side of your balcony, once he was there you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss.

"You really left her? For me?" He cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb under your eye - he knew you'd been crying he could tell by the bloodshot eyes and the tissues all around your bedroom.

"I told you I would and I meant that there's no one else in the world for me. It's always going to be you." He whispered kissing your cheeks before laying a romantic kiss on your lips. The kind that made your ties curl and your heart beat rapidly.

"What if you stayed for the night?" He shook his head at you pointing at the door,

"Jisoo catches me and I am beyond dead. I'll see you tomorrow. I promise." He kissed your lips one last time before climbing back down your balcony and over to his car across the road.

"Did he leave yet?!" Jisoo asked from outside your door, now wanting details on everything that had happened when he snuck up to see you.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lynnthevirgo @lyoongx @snowy-meowl @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @callingmyangel @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya

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keijikunn · 3 years

Text

Rivalry ── Chapter III

── A @babythotshq collab “To All the Boys I’ve Loved”

Old feelings

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Tags: college!au, angst, it’s kinda fluffy??? i don’t know, it’s not that angst either Summary: Tsukishima Kei had never imagined that you, his forever rival in high school, would write him a letter confessing your feelings. Does Tsukishima feels the same way? Word count: 3.7k

Author’s note: I’m dividing the last chapter in two, so I won’t be too long (trust me, it’s over than 6k and I wanna spare you all lol). Hope you all enjoy the chap III and I swear by the end of the month I’ll post the final part! Biggest thank you to @kaitycole and @newfriendjen that helped me out a lot, I love you two so much 🥺

WARNINGS: swearing, tsukki being salty but what’s new?, makeout (???), hints of anxiety

RIVALRY MASTERLIST

BECOME A BOOKWORM!

Ever since that… eventful day, you managed to avoid Tsukishima like the plague. It helped the fact you had classes in different buildings, not to mention the fact the college campus was huge. You were about to forget about the letter issue, as the courses have started a few days earlier and you dedicated most of your time to get things settled into a nice routine. Things were too good to be real, though.

You couldn’t believe in what you saw the first time you stepped inside the extracurricular class, after the first week since classes started. Not only your love letters were sent to all your previous crushes (who seemed to attend the same college as you), but the person you dreaded to see again would spend the next semester with you during your afternoon activities.

Tsukishima Kei smirked at your distressed expression, waving at you as if you were long time friends. He wants to irk you, Y/n, don’t give him this pleasure. You are better than him anyway, you repeated it as many times as possible before the bell rang - indicating the class was about to start. Fortunately you managed to sit on the opposite side of the room as Tsukishima, though you could feel his eyes burning holes on the side of your head.

“Why is he so annoying?” You muttered to yourself, sighing in annoyance. The professor entered the classroom, quickly introducing himself and the upcoming project you would work on. You were excited for it when you researched about the university, it was as if a dream was coming true, and you made up your mind to not let Tsukishima Kei ruin this experience.

“As always, we randomize the duos, so be prepared to work with someone who does things differently than you.” The old man at the front announced, and your guts were telling you that this wouldn’t be good. “Raise your hand if I call your name so your partner can find you.

The longer he took to call out your name, the more convinced you were that fate wouldn’t play nice with you. When the other two people left were paired up together, leaving you and Tsukishima without a partner, you had to hold the urge to scoff. As much as you tried your hardest to not bump into your old crush, the whole universe made sure to go against your will.

I should have gone to another extracurricular activity, damn it.

“So… guess we’re a duo, now,” Tsukishima snickered at your disgusted face, laughing at your dismay. “It’s not that bad be paired up with me, Y/n, c’mon”

“You’re right, it’s not bad.” You started, sending him a sharp glare. “It’s the worst thing ever”

With that, you turned around to pay attention to the further details the professor addressed the class. You knew Kei would try to make your experience in this project a literal hell, but you weren't going to let his antics distract you from getting anything less than the best result. You internally hoped that the tall boy also aimed for that, despite his annoying demeanor around you.

If not, you’d have a long semester ahead of you.

“For God’s sake, Tsukishima, this is not how we’re supposed to do it!” You whisper-yelled at the blonde boy, angrily gripping on your hair, holding yourself back from screaming at his face. It has been two weeks since you two started working on that stupid project, and it’s been two weeks of complete hell and anger. Being at the college’s library didn’t help as well, since you couldn’t externalize your frustration. “Can’t you read what I wrote down? Professor said we should follow this!”

“Yes, I’ve read it and decided that it sucks.” Tsukishima shot back, pushing away your notebook, writing a few words on your draft. “C’mon, Y/n, you should know by now that we don’t follow any professor’s instruction. We’re not at high school anymore, be more independent, won’t you?”

You hated to admit, but he was (at some instance) right. What hurt your pride more was that his suggestion was actually good- not that you would admit that, you’d rather die than say it out loud. This idea could easily work out with what you have thought previously, not to mention it would make more sense.

The lack of response made Tsukishima’s shit-eating grin grow on his features, irking you the exact same way he knew he was able to. He proceeded to add a few details on the paper and neatly placed it inside his folder, collecting his materials from the table. You two have been workin for almost two hours non-stop on the project after the whole morning classes, you had to admit your energy wore off at that point.

“Give me the paper, I want to add a few extra things.” You demanded, holding out your hand for him. Tsukishima arched his eyebrows as if he was surprised by such a request, then he scoffed at you - like always. “I’m not joking, I do want to modify it a bit.”

“The point of this being a group project is that we work on this together.” He stressed the last word, zipping his bag and shoving it over his shoulder. “And you wouldn’t do anything, judging by how tired you are.”

“I’m not!”

“Then care to explain how you didn't think about what I suggested earlier?” Suddenly your mind went blank at his response, what in the world does that mean? “You can think about this tomorrow, try not to melt your tiny brain.”

The tall boy left you without sparing a second glance, fumbling with his intertwined earphones as he walked. To say you were confused by his comment would be an understatement. Was he worried you would overwork yourself? No way, Tsukishima Kei would never care enough about you of all people.

Yet he’s still your partner.

“Fuck off, Tsukki.” You muttered tiredly, focusing on putting your belongings inside your backpack to (finally) head to your dorms.

The first time you’ve ever heard Tsukishima’s name was after the first exam of your freshman year in high school. Everyone was crying about their low grades, groaning at the prospect of having to study a lot more to the upcoming test. If you were not mistaken, a boy in your class named Yamaguchi commented how “Tsukki was smart” and he wasn’t surprised he aced it.

“Hey, L/n!” The girl who sits next to you approached you, paper in her hands. “How did you do?”

“I got 96%.” You answered quietly, trying not to drag attention to yourself due to your great performance. People in middle school didn’t like when you mentioned your grades, claiming you did that just to brag.

“Ehh? You’re so smart!” She said smiling. “Please, help me study! From what I heard just you and a boy from class 3 had such a high score. And Yamaguchi-kun said Tsukishima-kun doesn’t help anybody.”

“Of course, we can study at the library if you want to.” The offer seemed to appeal to her, given the fact she nodded quickly and proceeded to write down her cellphone number to you. “By the way, who is this Tsukishima guy?”

“He’s a tall, blonde boy. He uses glasses and if I’m not wrong he’s part of the volleyball club.” She answered, waving at you as she went back to her circle of friends, leaving you to think about who this boy is. “He’s not nice though. Always treats everyone as if he’s superior.”

You were able to put a face to the name you had in your mind after a couple of weeks, when another private school had a volleyball match against the male team of Hakone Academy. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the middle blocker with a poker face was Tsukishima, and you were surprised that he was actually good looking. Something that lacked in him, though, was passion in the sport - or rather in anything, according to your classmates.

Ever since that game, it seemed like you started to see Tsukishima every day in the corridors. You’d see him walking down the halls, his headphones always placed on the top of his ears, muffling the loud noise caused by the other students. He was cold to everybody, even rude if you were to be honest, but he was something else. His interests were inviting, itching your curiosity to get to know him better.

You realized you had a crush on Tsukishima Kei when you noticed how you paid attention to whenever you saw him around school, hearing his steady tone (usually talking to Yamaguchi) and his snarky smirk. All information you knew about him was, being honest, too little to grow intense feelings, but what got you hooked up was exactly this: you wanted to get to know him.

Things, however, didn’t work out the way you planned. The very first interaction you had with him was a disaster. You sounded way cockier than you wanted, you’ve never planned on teasing him and you have never imagined that it would backfire on you and lead him to dislike you.

After that incident, you discovered the aversion quite a lot of students had against him. Most of them claimed the same thing: Tsukishima Kei was mean, smug, had a superiority complex and always treated everyone poorly. A part of you didn’t want to believe in that, but how could you not when he mocked you in front of everyone?

Things didn’t get easier as the project progressed, not because it was too technical or that it required too many details. Yours and Tsukishima’s endless arguments and bickering always ended in screaming matches, hurtful comments and you two not on speaking terms. The premise of group projects was to create something together, but at this point you were doing your own thing while thinking about what the other was working on.

“Are you a dumbass or do you just pretend to be one?” Tsukishima angrily asked, dropping your notebook on the table. “This is horrible, Y/n.”

“You think it’s horrible because you’re doing things as you wish, not considering what I have to suggest!” You responded, your voice tone a few octaves higher due to your stress. Currently you two were at his dorms - the library was not an option anymore, the librarian kicked you out after you were shouting at each other - both awfully close as his dining table was tiny. “This is a fucking group project, you said it before! So you have to listen to what I have to say.”

“I’m not listening when you suggest stupid things like this!” He retorted, ripping the page out and crumpling it to toss on the floor. You widen your eyes, shocked at his recent action.

“Wow, Tsukishima, you are really being this petty.” A humorless laugh escaped your lips, you shook your head in denial, getting up to collect your paper off the ground. The tension in the air grew thicker and the man’s intense gaze burned holes on your back. “People were right, after all. You are unbearable.”

Tsukishima’s smug facade cracked a bit, you noticed, after hearing what you just said. His smirk left his face for a brief moment and his eyes mirrored mixed feelings, could they be sorrow, insecurity? You didn’t have enough time to decipher them as he quickly recomposed himself, offering you a snark grin.

“That’s why you liked me, huh? Did you want to correct the horrible, mean, malicious person that I am?” Tsukishima teased, hitting your emotions with ease. Your mind was empty, only his words echoing inside it, bumping into your skull with force.

You couldn’t understand him, honestly.

One time he is all worried about you overworking, passively aggressively implying you’re capable of suggesting better ideas; and now he’s being childish and not sparing a single offense towards you. You knew Tsukishima Kei was a hard person to handle if you’re not as quick witted as him, but this? This level of pettiness and stubbornness? For a young adult like him, that claims he’s better than everyone else?

“I’m done.” You stated, too burnt out to respond to his teasing comment. Your temples hurt due to the confusion the blond man was giving you, the constant push and pull between you two worn you out.

“What do you mean ‘you’re done’? We’re not done yet.” He stated as if it was a matter of fact - which was, he wasn’t wrong.

“Do I look like I care? I’m doing this shit by myself, you can do whatever you want, I’m done with you.” Silence engulfed the room, and you mentally thanked this peaceful moment. It, however, didn’t last long, because Tsukishima always finds ways to make things worse.

“Are you giving up that easy, Y/n? Couldn’t handle a bit of teasing?” That was it. The mocking tone he used against you was enough to snap the last string of sanity inside you, freeing a rage you never knew you had against him. The angriness burned your chest as you slammed your hands on the table, making Tsukishima flinch at the sudden outburst.

“Yes, I can not deal with your teasing ass.” You admitted shamesly, your mind ran a thousand miles a minute, not registering the words that left your mouth. “What I can’t deal with is a petty boy that can’t take this goddamn project seriously!”

“It wasn’t me who suggested stupid ideas.” Kei spat back, leaning in your direction, inviting you to answer him - almost like a dare.

“You always say my ideas are vain, stupid or whatever, but you never offered anything great or fucking brilliant,” it was indeed true. Tsukishima proudly belittled everything you said for the past few weeks, but never came up with something new. Instead, he modified everything you’ve given to him. “So please, before you put yourself above the others, do something that makes you actually the best-”

Any and every train of thought you had was interrupted by the aggressive contact of Tsukishima Kei’s lips against yours. Everything seemed to melt with the heat coming from the kiss, your hands sneaking behind his neck and gripping rather harshly at his blond hair. In between the feverish moment, Tsukki managed to sit you on the table and place himself between your legs. Gasps and soft murmurs interrupted the kiss every once in a while, your mouth occasionally made its way down his jaw and neck, nibbling and sucking his skin.Only until one of you reconnected them, tongues sliding against each other.

You honestly don’t know how long you two spent making out, but it was enough time to leave a few hickeys on each other's necks and clothes lightly pulled up. Tsukishima’s ears were as red as his swollen lips, the blond hair was a mess thanks to your roaming hands and the white t-shirt wrinkled.

“Still think I don’t suggest brilliant ideas?” Tsukishima teased, but the embarrassment he was feeling was written all over his face. To say you were speechless was an understatement, you’ve just had a full make out section with your biggest high school rival, the one you knew hated you the most. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say- did I get your tongue, Y/n?”

“What the fuck did you just do, Tsukishima?” You demanded flustered, the feeling of his body close to yourself fading away. "Why have you done this?!"

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy, Y/N, I can feel the spot you left a hickey on." His comment made you groan in annoyance, because you knew you wouldn't be able to retort it.

Not paying attention to your surroundings, you pushed Tsukishima away from you, quickly grabbing your bag to leave his dorms. You didn't mind if you forgot something at his place - you would see him the next day, anyway. All you wanted was to get away from him, to finally think straight.

The cool air of the end of the day would help you come back to a reasonable state of mind.

You kept acting around Tsukishima after the first encounter. Whenever you had the chance to irk him you did it, initiating an unnecessary banter. You felt stupid to say the least, how low could you go?

Yet, you continued. Just to have his attention. Pathetic. However, you had a limit. And Tsukishima managed to trespass it with such facility you were surprised.

It happened during your second year, exactly one year after you got so interested in that mean boy. Things weren't easy for you, many reasons were behind your unstable state. School was overwhelming like never before, you could barely juggle between regular activities and your club's.

The stress weighted on you to the point you let your grades slip at one exam. You knew you had your worst performance so far, and the subject didn't help you as well.

"I'm going to hand back the exams." Your homeroom teacher announced, earning heavy groans from the whole class. A sigh escaped your lips, knowing how screwed you were if Tsukishima knew how poorly you did. "L/n Y/n"

As you got up from your desk, you felt a familiar pair of eyes burn holes on your back. The moment you read the barely 50% score written on the top of the paper, you blanked out. You missed how your teacher kindly smiled at you, reminding how this one performance didn't define you. The words didn't make sense to you, because for you it didn't matter. You failed.

Tears pricked the corner of yours eyes, shallow breaths escaped your parted lips as you sat down once again, barely sparing a glance at the paper on your desk. You truly didn’t know if someone tried to approach you, mind far away from reality, engulfing itself in a spiral of self doubt, worries and self depreciation.

“Well… looks like the top 2 student failed miserably on the test.” The steady, yet teasing tone of Tsukishima’s voice broke you out of your own head. “You’re fake, couldn’t even get more than half of it correct. You’re a lie, Y/n.”

“Not now, please.” It took most part of your will to mutter these three words without letting your voice crack. Tsukishima arched his eyebrows, amused by the scene unfolding in front of him: you lowering your head against your forearms on the table, shielding your tears from anyone. “Tease me all you want, but please do it another time.”

However, he kept going. Tsukishima pointed out every single question you got wrong, rubbing in your face how he aced another stupid paper while you were a failure. The classroom was noisy, the end of the period let the students talk freely, but you only heard Kei’s voice, adding to your pre-existent stress and pressure.

As far as you could remember, you’ve never underestimated him in any interaction you two had. Sure, you threw a teasing comment every once in a while, but always bragging about yourself, how you’ve outsmarted him. But you were sure you never humiliated him - and you’d never do such a low blow like this.

“Enough, Tsukishima!” You raised your voice, everyone now was paying attention to you two. The embarrassment heated your entire face and your tears finally ran down your cheeks, the blond boy seemed startled with your sudden outburst, though his smirk quickly returned to your face. “I got that you’re better, now can you please shut the fuck up?!”

Thankfully the bell rang, indicating classes were over for the day. You quickly shoved your test on your bag, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned to head to the door. With the sleeve of your coat, you wiped the reminiscent tears from your eyes and left the room. Not only you exited that suffocating place, but also you left behind the stupid crush you had on Tsukishima Kei.

Since that day, you couldn’t stand being near him, all teasing interactions reduced to none and you’ve never checked the scoreboard as soon as the grades were out. You focused on your own stuff, trying your best to clear your thoughts from Tsukishima - which didn’t work as well as you planned.

Every once in a while, in the middle of a studying session, you found yourself pushing your limits like you used to do to get a higher performance than him. As much as you hated to admit, Tsukishima was a great incentive to do better, to set higher goals academically speaking. And though he caused you a lot of pain, a part of you (the stupid one, in your words) still thought he was attractive, you still had a tiny interest in the true guy behind that acting.

That’s why you decided to write him that letter. Perhaps admitting your “crush” on him would make you realize you’ve created almost an entire new person using his name and face. In a way it actually helped, you truly thought you have moved on from him and college would give you a new beginning away from Tsukishima.

Fate, on the other hand, had other plans for you and here you are: walking slowly towards your dorms, emotionally drained and confused. The prospect of Tsukishima Kei having the slightest interest in you was shocking, especially after all those three years of. endless insults.

Are those feelings coming back?

“Oh, no.” You muttered to yourself, immediately stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, frightened about your last thought. “Oh my, there’s no way I’m crushing Tsukishima once again!”

If you concentrated enough, you could still feel his chapped lips against your skin, his large hands roaming through your body. He was right about you enjoying it- in reality, you did more than you’d like to admit. Tsukishima Kei was annoyingly filling your mind with both his smart and arrogant ass and that unexpected (but surprising) heated moment.

You needed to get to your dorms and take a long shower to put your thoughts in order, because there’s no way you’re having feelings for Tsukishima Kei once again.

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #TATB: Tsukishima route #haikyuu imagine #baby thots collab

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ambersock · 3 years

Text

On the Edge of Forever

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Lucifer (Cassifer)

Summary: Sam has a plan to deal with the Darkness. Dean is definitely not going to like it.

Word Count: 4095

Warnings: Angst, Minor Sam Whump, Swearing, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues

A/N: Takes place in Season 11, after 11.10 The Devil in the Details. More notes at the end.

Now: Dean

Baby’s tires squeal in protest as Dean uses up a month of tread taking yet another turn too fast, her back-end fishtailing with only intermittent traction keeping her from spinning out. He’ll apologize to her later. Dean slams the accelerator down as he exits the curve and hits 90 on a straight section of the backwoods road on the outskirts of a town probably called Where The Fuck Are We We’re Lost. He starts to recognize landmarks from the last time he was here almost three years ago; he’s close. Not close enough.

He hurtles towards his destination, praying to who the hell knows what (because, really, there’s nothing out there that gives a shit, is there?), that he makes it in time to stop his idiot brother from doing an idiotic thing. Because he idiotically let his brother go to talk to fucking Lucifer, and of course Lucifer got inside his head. And here he is again, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell he can possibly say to convince Sam to abandon his insane plan.

Five days ago: Sam

Ever since the train wreck that was supposed to be a “safe” visit to the Cage to ask for Lucifer’s help against the Darkness, Sam has been replaying the Lucifer-guided tour of his worst fuck ups over and over on an endless loop, hoping that repetition and whiskey will numb him just a little more each time. For the hundredth time Sam curses his hubris, thinking he would even register on God’s radar, let alone that He would answer his prayers and send him visions. For the hundredth time he curses himself for being so naïve that he never suspected that the visions were just a lure from Lucifer to reel him in, break him down, and use him as a ride out of the Cage. And he hates himself for how close he had come to caving in. More than once.

On his third shot of whiskey and his umpteenth rerun through his trail of regrets, it hits Sam: within the chain of events of disaster begetting calamity begetting catastrophe, there is one moment in time where it could have easily all fallen apart. One small delay, one broken link, would cause a cascade failure and drastically alter everything that came after. He can’t help fantasizing, over and over, about all of the different little things could have happened that would have changed the entire outcome. If only.

On his fourth shot of whiskey, Sam remembers the sigil that allowed Henry Winchester to travel through time, and he huffs out a laugh.

On his fifth shot of whiskey, Sam staggers to the archive room and starts pulling books.

******

Sam continues to stare at the passages describing the Enochian time travel spell. The task he’s set himself is a flame that has both sustained him and consumed him for days on end. There’s a tree’s worth of paper covered in notes scattered across every horizontal surface, held down by mostly empty coffee mugs distributed randomly around the cramped space. His eyes are dry and red, an eyestrain headache thrums in the back of his skull, and his back is aching from being hunched over musty tomes for hours at a time attempting to deconstruct and reverse engineer the spell, to adapt it to his specific purpose. He’s not sure when he slept last, and Dean has started to give him those sideways I-know-something’s-eating-you looks which means he’s got limited time before Dean drags him out of the bunker “for his own good”. Sam forces himself to clear his mind of everything except the patterns of Enochian writing in front of him. He’s close, he thinks he’s found the right figures, he just needs to understand how to combine them with the original blood sigil. As Dean would say, he’s on the one-yard line and it’s time to push through it.

Hours later something finally clicks like a circuit closing in his brain, and suddenly the pattern of the lesser symbols within the larger whole makes sense to Sam. The solution is simple and elegant, and it’s so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. He adds the figures to a drawing of the original blood sigil and he knows, just knows, that this is going to work. He allows himself to luxuriate in the endorphin rush that accompanies success, the feeling that he’s about to score a win. For the first time since he threw himself into the Cage, he feels like he’s finally doing something right.

The only problem now is finding the right way to tell Dean. He’s going to need some time and distance, a head-start to get out in front of Dean’s inevitable knee-jerk reaction, because Dean is definitely not going to like this. Even if it was his idea.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

It was a stroke of luck, really, that Lucifer landed Castiel as a vessel instead of Sam as he had originally intended. Dean might have caught on to Lucifer-wearing-Sam, but it was just too easy to pass himself off as the besotted pet angel when Dean had caught him tearing through the records. A contrite little “I’m sorry Dean” coupled with a soulful look and Dean was sold. It is surprisingly so much easier to masquerade as someone else topside than it ever was in the Cage. He never could fully convince Sam that it was Dean who was carving out his organs.

Fun aside, there is now a possible monkey wrench in Lucifer’s carefully laid and, so far successful, bid for freedom. He stares at the disarray of notes decorated with Enochian symbols strewn all over the small bunker storage room by his erstwhile vessel, and can’t dismiss the growing possibility that everything is about to unravel.

“Oh Sammy-boy, what are you up to?”

His vessel has been mucking around with a time-travel sigil, and it seems like he’s pretty far along. Logically, Sam would be looking to prevent the release of the Darkness, which also certainly means undoing the events leading to the damage to the Cage that allowed Lucifer to escape. There are two lessons he files away for later: one, never speak Enochian in front of a chew toy; two, sending Sam Winchester on a guilt trip tends only results in a manic attempt on his part to fix things, which is exactly how Lucifer ended up back in the Cage the second time. He takes a moment to appreciate the irony of how tormenting Sam with his past regrets might now colossally backfire on him. He questions whether it was really worth it just to see Sam squirm like that once again, but then he can’t keep a smile of contentment from spreading across his face.

Yes, yes it was. Definitely worth it.

So now to the problem at hand: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel has other important, and definitely more amusing, things he needs to attend to, such as feeding Crowley his own intestines. But this potential threat to his plans is not something he can abide. He mulls over the merits of just disintegrating Sam—not very satisfying, but efficient—when he feels a tickle from a small, dark corner of his consciousness. He sighs in irritation.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

I believe I can help.

“Yeah, not really buying that.”

Give me five minutes, and I promise that Sam will no longer be of concern.

Lucifer is loath to cede control, but at the same time his curiosity is piqued. He can always return to Plan Disintegrate later. Or maybe he’ll think of something more entertaining while he’s waiting.

“Five minutes.”

Castiel takes out his phone and picks Dean out of his contacts. As Dean picks up, Castiel reaches for the page holding the altered blood sigil.

“Dean… I’m afraid your brother is planning to do something very foolish…”

Earlier: Dean

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to fix this. Fix the Darkness. I figured out a way to take Abaddon off the board in the past. No Abaddon, no Mark of Cain. No Mark, the Darkness stays locked up. Kevin lives. Charlie lives. It’s a no-brainer.”

Dean is standing in the room where Sam had been doing his clandestine research, now devoid of the notes that Castiel had described. After 17 frantic, unanswered calls to Sam, who had gone missing all night, Sam has finally called back and Dean knows that something’s seriously off. He sounds eerily upbeat, which immediately sets off Dean’s alarm bells given how shaken and preoccupied he had been after coming back from the near-disastrous visit to the virtual Cage. Whatever Sam’s planning, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to like it, and Sam’s not exactly forthcoming with details. Either Dean needs to get Sam to spill, or he at least needs to get a trace on his phone and figure out where he is.

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to screw with time? Mothra Effect, or whatever? And if you go back and meet yourself, won’t the universe, like, explode or something?”

“Butterfly Effect. And I’m not going back, I’m sending something back. Seriously, Dean, do you really think I can possibly screw up the time line any worse than The End of Everything?”

Dean doesn’t have a good response to that, so he switches the topic to keep Sam talking. “So how, exactly, are you gonna take Abaddon out without the Mark and the First Blade? You planning to send her one of your documentary podcasts and bore her to death?”

There’s a huff of exasperation on the other end and Dean swears he can hear Sam roll his eyes. “Hilarious. Look, I’ve found another way.”

“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come help.”

Silence.

Then, “Don’t worry Dean, I’ve got this. It’s an easy spell. You should keep researching the Darkness in case this doesn’t work.”

Sam being evasive confirms that Dean has good reason to be suspicious about this plan, but the trace is still going and Dean plays for more time.

“Don’t worry? Might as well tell me not to breathe. Let me guess: you’re sending a bomb back to blow Abaddon to fucking bits so we can’t sew her head back on.”

“…Huh. Interesting idea, but there’s too much risk that I’d end up blowing up one of us. Anyway, it’s a blood spell. Whatever goes back has to be infused with DNA so that it can latch onto the same DNA. I’m just sending some cloth back. Like I said, it’s simple.”

Dean gives in to his growing irritation at Sam’s caginess and decides to go for the direct assault.

“Sam. What aren’t you telling me?” Dean already has his suspicions of what Sam isn’t telling him; there’s only one way he can think of that takes Abaddon out of play and saves Kevin. He’s hoping he’s wrong. He’s also dying to know how time travelling cloth comes into this.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Sam.”

“Look, just promise you’ll hear me out, okay?”

“SAM.”

Dean can hear Sam take a breath, like he’s getting ready to plunge into deep water. “…I’m going to make sure I finish the third Trial.”

There it is. Damn it.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE.”

Click.

Sam disconnects before the trace finishes, but Dean doesn’t need the trace to know where to find him. He hauls ass to the garage where the Impala is waiting.

Now: Dean

Dean stands on the brake and Baby skids to a halt next to the car Sam had appropriated, sitting in front of the old, decrepit church. It’s exactly as he remembered it last, like it’s been frozen in time waiting for their return. Overgrown bushes still cling to the rotting siding, and stained glass still litters the ground from the blown-out side window. The only thing missing is the shower of angelic fireballs cascading toward the earth with Sam dying by his side, an image that perversely reminds him of watching fireworks in a field with next to his little brother.

The last time they were here, Sam was half out of his mind with fever and remorse, and Dean’s desperate I’m-Your-Big-Brother-You-Have-To-Do-What-I-Say tone had actually, thankfully, gotten through to him and Sam had backed down. He can’t believe that he has to talk Sam down from the same fucking ledge again, only it’s worse this time because Sam is laser focused on his mission to fix the problem. This time, emotional pleas and yelling and demanding aren’t going to work. This time, so help him, the only way Dean will be able to talk Sam out of this will be to throw logic at him.

Dean launches himself out of the Impala and bursts through the doors of the church to see Sam sitting, chin in hand, in the chair that once held a nearly human King of Hell. A crimson stain is spreading on a strip of cloth that he’s holding to his arm, and there is a bowl of already-mixed spell ingredients on the floor in front of him. Sam has clearly been waiting for Dean.

“Well, that was quick.”

Dean, bent over huffing, heart still pounding from breakneck drive here, is seriously tempted to punch Sam.

Before Dean can take a deep enough breath to start in on forcefully explaining to Sam how idiotic this is, Sam launches into his sales pitch. “Look Dean, I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. I’m not throwing my life away on some impulsive, reckless act. I need you to understand that, that’s why I waited for you. I’ve had days to think this through. This endless cycle of crossing lines we’ve got no business crossing, of throwing away the world to save each other, this is where it all started, and I can stop it before it starts.”

“Damn it Sam, are you even capable of coming up with a plan where you don’t die? Closing up Hell wasn’t worth your life then, and it’s not worth it now—”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, my insides were going to be deep fried whether or not I finished it. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have pulled me back. Look at everything that came after—Kevin, you becoming a demon, and—and the things that I had to do to get you back, to remove the Mark… getting Charlie killed… and how many people died when the Darkness infected that town? I mean, how can you tell me that saving all of them isn’t worth it?”

Dean feels a knot growing in his stomach because he knows damned well that it wasn’t Lucifer who got into Sam’s head. It was the Mark that told Sam that he should have been on the pyre instead of Charlie. It was the Mark that told Sam he should have died finishing the Trials. It was the Mark that told Sam that he was evil. It had said all of this to Sam for his crime of saving Dean from an eternity of suffering.

But it was Dean who never apologized, never tried to set things right.

They have both said and done abhorrent things to each other while under the control of some entity or force, and there has always been an unspoken understanding between them that they don’t take it personally. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, Dean usually gets mad, leaving Sam to trail after him afterwards apologizing profusely. But Sam always brushes these incidents aside and moves on without a word. Hell, the first thing Sam had done after the hammer episode was to go out and get Dean a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and three different pies.

But this… this has really gotten to Sam. He didn’t just dismiss it like he did when they were under the influence of the Siren. He buried it instead and let it set down roots and infest every corner of his brain. And when Sam gets like this—like after he set Lucifer free, like after he found out what he had done while he was soulless—he just can’t let it go until he does something to atone for it. This is ironically what Dean both most admires and most infuriates him about his little brother: his unwavering determination to make things right and his absolute faith in their ability to do so. More than once he has carried Dean along in his wake by sheer willpower when all Dean wanted to do is crawl into a bottle. But these crusades never end well for Sam, and the one thing that Dean will never be able to protect Sam from is himself.

Sam crosses over to the oversized wooden double doors at the entrance, already adorned with the augmented blood sigil. He winds the cloth through both handles and ties it securely as blood continues to ooze from the cut on his forearm. Dean gets what Sam is doing now. He’s using the spell to send the blood-infused cloth back in time, homing in on his own blood in the past, to hold the doors shut back then. Dean had barely gotten to Sam in time to stop him from curing Crowley, and if it had taken him just a few more seconds to push through the door it would have been over. Will have been over.

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil on the door starts to glow dimly, and the reality that This Is Happening hits Dean like cold water in the face. He had every intention of trying to talk Sam out of this with a reasonable, adult discussion, because he knows damned well that Sam doesn’t respond to orders being yelled at him. It all flies out the window at that moment and he’s barking at Sam like a drill sergeant, because if he doesn’t, he’d be breaking down instead. He grabs Sam’s arm and spins him around.

“What the hell, Sam? You know that nothing I said while I had that thing on my arm counts. You can’t seriously believe that I meant any of—”

Sam cuts him off, his gaze intense, his voice fervent. “It’s true, Dean, what you said. Mark or not, it’s the truth. I chose to cross those lines; I chose to let the Darkness out. You told me not to, and I did it anyway. So this is me stepping up and taking responsibility. If I’ve got a chance to undo all of this, I have to take it. And right now, it’s the only play we’ve got.”

Angry words propelled by desperation shoot out of Dean before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you said about your visions of the Cage, and how did that work out for you?”

Sam visibly flinches and pulls away from Dean as his expression hardens. “Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil blazes.

This is not at all what Dean intended. He came here to talk Sam back from the edge, and instead he’s pushing him toward it. Dean swallows his anger and it tastes like acid going down, and all that remains is panic.

“Sam, just stop. I don’t care what came out of my mouth when I had the Mark, it’s all bullshit. Sam, you don’t need to do this—”

“Yeah, Dean, I really do. I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice then, but I can do it now.”

Dean flounders for whatever magic words he needs to get through to Sam and comes up empty. He does the only thing he can think of to shock some sense into him or, preferably, to knock him cold so that he shuts the fuck up and can’t finish the spell. Dean’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw, propelling him backwards. Sam goes down, sprawling on the floor, but he’s not out. He sits up, hand to jaw, and Dean expects to see shock or anger on Sam's face, but all he sees is compassion. And Dean knows that he’s lost.

“Sammy, don’t—"

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

A blinding light envelops the cloth holding the doors shut.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

Castiel ends the call after warning Dean about Sam’s intentions. He takes a marker to one of the added symbols and alters it slightly. He freezes as Lucifer gets back in the driver’s seat.

Lucifer asks suspiciously, “And what exactly are you doing with this, Castiel?”

I’m just disrupting the sigil. The change I made will prevent the spell from accounting for the current position of the Earth relative to its position within the—

“Summarize, Poindexter.”

With the change I’ve made, whatever object Sam is sending back will end up in space. Sam will think that his alteration failed, and he won’t interfere with your plans. You would know if I was lying.

“So… I’m trying to understand this. You’re helping me by sabotaging Sam’s work… why, exactly?”

To eliminate your motivation to kill my friend.

Lucifer considers Castiel’s response. “Huh. We’ll see.”

I can still expel you.

“Now Castiel, we both know that’s an empty threat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment. Then:

It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world—

“Alright, alright. Just kidding. Grow a sense of humor.”

Now: Dean

The cloth binding the door handles is gone, but as far as Dean can tell, nothing else has changed. Sam is still on the floor, a stunned expression on his face that would be comical under any other circumstances, and all Dean can think is thank fucking God, and he starts to wonder if maybe there isn’t something out there intervening on his behalf after all.

“I don’t… it should have… it didn’t work.” Sam looks around in dazed confusion for a moment before pushing himself to his knees, and he looks up at Dean, eyes filled with defeat. Dean can’t stop the memory from superimposing itself in his mind of Sam kneeling in front of him, resigned in his acceptance of Dean’s judgment of him, waiting for the scythe to swing.

“I’m sorry...” Sam apologizes for not being dead.

Dean thinks he’s going to be sick.

He drops to Sam’s level and doesn’t know whether to shake him or maybe hit him again. He pulls Sam to himself instead and holds onto him like he’s going to blink out of existence if he lets go. Sam doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t respond.

Dean knows that there is something that Sam needs to hear, something he should have said weeks ago. Dean hasn’t been able to tell him, because it’s selfish and the good guys aren’t supposed to be selfish. The good guys are supposed to put the rest of the world first, and happily throw themselves into oblivion for “the greater good”. He keeps his grip on Sam because he doesn’t want to see Sam’s reaction to what he’s about to say; he’s not sure what Sam will think of him afterwards.

“What you said… after you risked the world for me, when you said that you’d do it again in a second…”

Sam tenses in his arms, and Dean takes a breath.

“Sammy, that wasn’t evil. That was the best fucking moment of my life.”

The statement hangs there for a few heartbeats. Then Sam relaxes, lets his chin drop to Dean’s shoulder, and tentatively folds his arms around him. Dean feels him starting to shake.

“I wanted to—I couldn’t save them.” Sam’s words fall out of him between hitched breaths.

“I know Sammy.”

“It should have been me up there instead of—”

“Don’t.”

All of the mourning that Dean hadn’t allowed Sam to express as they watched Charlie’s body burn, all of the grief that Sam has held bottled up ever since pours out of him then, and Sam clings to Dean like a drowning man to a life preserver. He doesn’t know how long they stay there. His knees are aching and his legs are falling asleep but he doesn’t care because Sam is still here and he’s alive. He waits until the tremors slow and finally stop, then slowly pulls back.

“Hey, you don’t get to put this all on yourself. I’m the one who took the Mark without reading the warning label. We’re in this together. We’ll figure this out, both of us.”

Sam just nods numbly.

“Now let’s get out of here before we hit menopause.”

Sam rewards Dean with an expelled almost-laugh and a flicker of an almost-smile, and Dean chooses to count that as a win.

~~~~~~~~~~

More Notes:

I have this nagging need to address all of the drama from 10.23 Brother's Keeper that the writers just decided to drop on the floor.

The title is named after the ST:TOS The City on the Edge of Forever. The theme of the story, at least from the original script, is that it is possible to love someone so much that you would throw away your whole universe for them. I can't help but notice the parallel to SPN.

This is exactly what Dean wants from Sam throughout seasons 8 and 9, and when Sam does it in season 10, Dean calls him evil for it. Sam just can't fucking win.

#spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #cassifer

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Syncope

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 18 Prompt - Collapse

Peter Parker was weirdly magnetic. He was also an absolute dumpster fire of a person much to Tony’s chagrin.

Words: 1552, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner

TW: Fainting

Read on AO3 of below the line break.

Tony would be the first to say that Howard Stark was a pretty shit parent. He would also be the first to say that, when he met Peter Parker and drug him off to Germany to fight the Avengers that he could be considered to be a pretty shit mentor. He was determined not to repeat the sins of his father if it was the last thing he did which is why, after Peter turned down his spot on the team, Tony groveled to May Parker and, finally, offered the kid a real, bonafide Stark Industries internship.

Tony tried to remain professional – just some tinkering with the Spidey suit, the chance to play with some cool tech – but Peter Parker was oddly magnetic and, well, could you really blame Tony for quasi-adopting the kid? Once their weekly meetings evolved to twice a week and then into movie nights May Parker set up what she coined ‘co-parenting lunches’ and gave Tony a very firm talking to on what his behavior better look like going forward.

He resolved to never introduce her to Pepper after that conversation – he’d never survive.

That was months ago, though, and things were going pretty swimmingly if Tony said so himself. Peter was over increasingly often and had his own room in the penthouse, May had started to warm up to him more due to their bi-weekly lunch dates and Ross was – for once – off his ass.

Yeah everything was coming up Tony.

“Hey kid,” he called as the music in his workshop cut down and the doors slid open to admit Peter. “Be with you in a sec!” He was so close to finishing this segment of his repulser – it had been a right pain in the ass the whole day and he was ready to just be through with it. Peter didn’t respond but he sometimes didn’t when he could tell that Tony was super busy so he just carried on, finishing about ten minutes later with Dum-E’s… assistance… and he dropped his precision tools with a sigh and a pop of his back.

“Sorry about that buddy,” Tony called as he turned around. “You wouldn’t believe how long that’s been – what’s wrong with you?”

Peter ducked his head quickly but not fast enough to keep Tony from seeing his bright red cheeks, pale features and gigantic eye bags. He was wearing the MIT hoodie Tony had given him (definitely a comfort item whether Peter wanted to admit it or not) but also subtly trembling. Peter let out a suppressed and hoarse cough and muttered a unconvincing ‘Nothing,” that had Tony rolling his eyes.

“Yeah sure,” Tony agreed, standing from his stool and coming to stand in front of Peter, reaching out with the back of one hand to feel the kid’s sweaty and clammy forehead – Peter failing spectacularly at dodging and nearly falling off his stool in the process – and grimacing at the clear fever he could feel. “Your brains melting a little there kiddo.”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted, his voice cracking and nasally doing nothing to assuage Tony’s concern. “Seriously I am,” Peter said after shirking under Tony’s raised eyebrow. He followed this up by sneezing violently three times and then having the gall to try and paste an innocent look on his face.

Teenagers. Gremlins the lot of them.

“You’re really doing great work making me believe you,” Tony told him pointedly. “I mean look at me – totally convinced.”

Peter deflated a little and pouted, full on sulking now. “You don’t have to rub it in,” he groused and Tony chuckled at him.

“Want to actually tell me what’s going on? Or do you plan to just suffer? That’s a Gen-Z thing right? Suffering?” Peter ignored his jabs and coughed Welty into his elbow before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt making Tony crinkle his nose in disgust.

“Just a cold,” Peter tried, not even trying to meet Tony’s eyes. Guilty. Oh so guilty.

“Uh huh. A cold,” Tony nodded. “And how long have you had this cold that comes with a… uh fever check FRI?” He called out to his AI, making Peter whine in protest and drop his forehead down to rest on the lab table where he was seated.

“103.1 Boss,” FRIDAY called out in her soothing lilt and Tony winced a little in sympathy.

“Thanks dear. A 103.1 degree fever apparently. Jeez kid please tell me you didn’t go to school like this,” the set in Peter’s shoulders, however, told Tony all he needed to know and he let out a put upon sigh. “So you went to school like this. Great. You’re in luck – Bruce happens to be around today to take a look at you. Come on – up!”

“Noooo,” Peter griped, not picking his head up from the table or making any effort to stand at all. “I said I’m fine! I don’t need to go to the MedBay!”

“You’re resting temperature is usually around 96.5 so, yes, your fever alone qualifies you for an all expense paid visit. Don’t make me drag you – neither one of us wants that.” Tony said firmly, poking the side of Peter’s head insistently. Peter groaned again and clumsily batted Tony’s hand away before going to stand up. Halfway to his feet Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped like a lead weight, Tony only barely able to catch him before he knocked his head on the side of the table.

“Should have expected this,” Tony grouched, lowering Peter carefully to the floor to rest with his head on Tony’s thigh. It wasn’t the first time the kid had fainted on him and Tony was regretful to say that he was old hat at it now. Tony cared about the kid but, Lordy, if Peter wasn’t an absolute magnet for danger and problems. “FRI?”

“Dr. Banner has been notified. He says to bring Peter up when he regains consciousness,” FRIDAY relayed and Tony nodded, expecting as much.

“Alrighty then. Time to wake up Pete, this isn’t a good look. You don’t want me to have to call May at work do you?” Tony threatened without heat, he would be texting May an update later but there was no need to pull her from work, rubbing the ridges of his fist against Peter’s sternum to stimulate a response.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, pinching his eyes shut further and flinching away from Tony’s hand. “Stop,” he grunted, turning his face into Tony’s stomach to block out the light.

“No can do kid,” Tony told him, tapping the side of Peter’s face with a couple fingers to keep him awake and alert. “You just took a lovely little nose dive so no sleeping until Brucie looks at you comprende?”

“I passed out?” Peter asked, confused but cracking his eyes open to slits and looking more irritated than anything.

“Oh magnificently,” Tony confirmed, slipping an arm under Peter’s shoulders and lifting him up to sit, leaning, against the leg of the desk. “You feel dizzy or anything? Gonna faint again if you stand?”

“I’m good,” Peter said, swaying for a moment before listing into Tony’s side. It didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Sure you can,” Tony sarcastically mumbled with an eye roll before slipping one arm under Peter’s knees and the other under his back, lifting him into his arms with a grunt. Peter groaned out his displeasure but made no effort to try to escape, solidifying Tony’s decision to just carry him upstairs.

Bruce, to his credit, didn’t seem too surprised by this turn of events and was well aware that Peter was a little human disaster with no self-preservation instincts at all and was quick to get Peter situated on the exam bed much to the kid’s obvious displeasure. “How long have you felt sick and what are your symptoms?” Bruce asked brusquely, rolling a stool over to sit next to the bed, StarkPad perched precariously on his crossed legs.

“It’s just a cold,” Peter told him prompting yet another eye roll from Tony and a put upon sigh from Bruce. Peter rolled his shoulders inward and crossed his arms over his chest in submission. “Since yesterday,” he admitted.

“Symptoms?” Bruce prompted, typing something onto the screen of the tablet.

“Coughing and sneezing for sure and I’m assuming a headache as well. Obviously the fever and the fainting. Am I missing anything Pete?” Tony asked, answering for the kid when it was clear Peter wasn’t going to himself without them literally pulling teeth.

“That about covers it,” Peter said, staring into the corner with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Bruce nodded like it was all to be expected. “Probably some sort of virus then,” he said. “Not a cold but we’ll do the normal battery of bloodwork and cultures to be sure. I’ll send a nurse in to get everything in a few minutes.”

And with that the man bustled out of the room, leaving Tony to perch on the abandoned stool next to Peter’s bed. “Can we just agree to have you tell me the next time you’re sick instead of passing out on me?”

Peter just groaned and tried to smother himself with one of the pillows while Tony laughed – at least he wasn’t stabbed again.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump18 #Prompt: Collapse #irondad #spider man

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brimmingwithautism · 3 years

Text

Nail Painting for Idiot Sorcerers and Tired Lesbians

Archive Link Here

Fushiguro threw himself against the window for the third time, forcing his skinny shoulders under the frame so he could push the old hinges as high as they could go. Nobara sighed from her position on the floor, a bottle of dark green nail polish already open and fumigating the broom closet the school had given her as a room.

“Itadori will be here in a minute, he can brute force his way through,” she said as her teammate once again slumped over in defeat. It’s not even that she minded the smell of acetone so much, but she doubted Fushiguro would stick around if they couldn’t get any amount of fresh air in. Well, she thought with a vicious little smirk, he might if Itadori asked him to.

As if sensing her thoughts, Fushiguro twisted his neck around to glare at her. “I still don’t understand why we aren’t training.” He had his uniform on even though it was the weekend, shoes laced tight and muscles tensed. As far as Nobara could figure, her teammate never relaxed, something that had only gotten worse after Itadori died, then came back, then nearly died again in the exchange event with Kyoto.

But Nobara had also picked up on the fact that Fushiguro had been involved in the world of sorcery and curses for years, maybe most of his life. It was her solemn duty to teach him how to chillax once in a goddamn while, regardless of how grumpy he got. And he could get pretty grumpy, a fun fact she was learning day by day.

She didn’t say any of that, though, because she didn’t just go around spilling her feelings like that to teenage boys who couldn’t even understand their own moods. She stuck her tongue out instead and started the first careful pull of the brush over her pinkie finger. Her hands were rough, of course, and getting rougher every day in Tokyo. She knew this. She allowed this.

But she also wanted them to be beautiful. Nobara was getting better at the balancing act since coming to Tokyo: making the decisions she could and dealing with the ones she couldn’t. She had a black eye given to her from Panda yesterday that she couldn’t control but the hammer she had swung at his wrist in retaliation was something she could give back in return.

Plusses and minuses. Choices and sacrifices. Pretty nails and a stinky room - Nobara was learning.

The window opened with a deafening screech by the time she had started on her middle finger. Fushiguro gave a pleased grunt. She put down the bottle in her unpainted hand long enough to give off a couple victory snaps that were only half-sarcastic. It was impressive he got it open at all considering Gojou-sensei had told her that he himself glued the windows down years ago as a prank on another student.

“Can I get back to training now?” he asked even as he sat down on the floor next to her. Nobara didn’t want to sit on the floor, but she knew it would be easier than trying to convince her teammates to get on the bed with her - and she couldn’t shake the paranoid feeling that once they did get on the bed Gojou-sensei would pop through the window to accuse them of youthful troublemaking. She just assumed he really had nothing better to do.

For Gojou-sensei it would be a coat of white polish, she thinks, or maybe bright blue with a sparkling silver accent nail. She knew she wouldn’t find a color to match his eyes, though, something that would frustrate her.

Fushiguro was an easy choice: black. It’s the only thing she could even get near his hands without him scuttling away and it went well with his whole “I’ve been in my goth phase for years now” look. Even still, pushing the bottle of jet black polish towards him only garnered a huff and a set of shifty eyes. It didn’t matter - she still had a secret weapon.

For a while they sat in silence, the only sound the wind as she went down her left hand and started on her right. Nobara had never really had male friends before, honestly didn’t think they were worth more than the time it took to bully them off the swings at recess, but she liked Fushiguro.

He was quiet, which was always nice, but he wasn’t scared of noise, which was practical. He took Itadori’s brash personality and Nobara’s absolutely charming personality in stride, content to let them fill the space around him. He was quiet with his kindness as well, but it was there in the way he made the meatballs Itadori taught him, the way he saved her life in that cursed domain all those weeks ago.

Nobara wasn’t nice like that, she knew. But she could paint nails.

When Itadori eventually did bother to show up it was through her now-open window, thirty minutes late. He practically leapt through, landing hard on her floor before rapidly crawling under her bed. His sudden entrance surprised her enough that her brush went wide and painted her cuticles more than her fingernail. Fushiguro dragged himself so he could poke his head up enough to see through the window while Itadori seemed to be trying to claw Nobara’s duvet off her bed for another layer of protection.

She nailed him in the eye with her comb, prompting the most dignified yelp she’d heard in her life, but the sound of Fushiguro hitting the desk was enough to make her turn. Eyes wide, he only had to whisper one word to send her diving along with Itadori under the bed: Panda.

If he saw them, it didn’t matter how many days they had already trained this week — they were training again. Ears straining, eyes wide, Nobara shook her hands as frantically and silently as possible in case she ended up needing to fight with only the base layer on. It wasn’t fair, they were barely even dried yet!

There was a shadow cast on the floor through the open window as a lumbering form wandered past the building, calling out Itadori’s name. Fushiguro became one with the floor as he silently slid under the bed as well; he was smart enough to drag the nail polish with him.

The shadow grew ever larger until Nobara could see the white head of Panda peering through the window, sniffing experimentally. “Inumaki, it looks like they finally managed to get the window open!”

Another tuft of white hair poked its way through the window with a muttered “Salmon,” before withdrawing once again. Panda left a few seconds later, swiping at his nose and complaining about the smell of nail polish.

Nobara, now unfortunately squeezed in the narrow space under her bed with both her teammates and a duvet, gave the quietest sigh of relief that she could before trying to maneuver her body down and out. It was slow going given her unwillingness to touch anything with her hands and mostly left her wriggling around like a worm on a hot sidewalk as Itadori giggled into his scarf.

“Shut up!” she hissed, hitting him with her wrist.

“Oh, that’s a pretty color!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “Did you do it to match Maki-san’s hair?”

The headlock she put him into was a purely instinctual response and therefore NOT her fault, even if it did manage to get the wet polish on her right hand all over Itadori’s cheek. It ended with Fushiguro divebombing them with the duvet to muffle the choking sounds, leading to an uncomfortable tangle of limbs that ended with both boys blushing and Nobara lamenting her ruined paint job.

Getting out from under the bed was an exercise in frustration and more worm-like movements that Nobara would take to her grave. Fushiguro took lookout once more, but after a thumbs up all three of them managed to wrangle themselves to a circle on the floor with the nail polish once again.

“So!” Nobara started, because it was her idea, “Fushiguro is getting black nails and Itadori can have pink. It should match with your dye job.” The bottle she held up to his head wasn’t perfect, but she thought it was pretty enough. Itadori confirmed this when he snatched it from her hands with a wide grin.

Her other teammate pouted but took the bottle of black polish as well, falling to a combination of Nobara’s fearless leadership and Itadori’s enthusiasm.

The way they were so obviously crushing on each other made Nobara feel better about her choice in polish - Maki-san wouldn’t think it was creepy, right? It was just a nice color, really, and it didn’t have to be any deeper than that.

She methodically wiped away any mess off her hands and began once again to paint her nails, paying close attention to making them neat. Itadori didn’t seem to mind the mess he made on his hands, and Nobara was glad she had plenty of remover on hand. Her other teammate managed to paint his nails perfectly on the first try, but Nobara was resolved to not even look at him so she wouldn’t get angry about it. She mostly succeeded.

“But Kugisaki, won’t we all mess up our nails tomorrow in training anyway?” Itadori asked after about five minutes of blissful silence.

Nobara gave another paranoid peek out the window as she considered the question. “We can put on a top coat to protect it some, but it’ll probably get dirty, yeah.” She inspected her left hand in the light, tilting it from side to side before blowing on her fingers lightly. It looked better than it did before.

Fushiguro, fed up with the disaster next to him, grabbed the pink polish and started painting Itadori’s right hand, entirely oblivious to the violent blush that stained Itadori’s face. “Then why,” he asked, moving his canvas into a better position, “Are we bothering to put in on in the first place?’

“Because I like it when my nails look good.” And you need a break. And Itadori needs to be around people again. And we need to do something other than train and fight for a day. “And you guys desperately need my fashion advice.”

Right hand finished, she thought with satisfaction. Time to dry and then put on another layer. She was debating about trying to do additional details or designs but she knew Fushiguro was right - they would be destroyed in training tomorrow.

And she would do it again. And again. She made the decision, she painted the nails, she fucked them up later trying to avoid Maki-san’s endless arsenal of weaponry.

Itadori bounced his knees up and down as he sat criss-cross waiting for his hand back. He always had energy with whatever he did. Nobara had never seen him still, not really; she was still lying unconscious in the car when they picked his body up and she had never gone to see him in the morgue. It didn’t feel right considering that they had barely known each other. Considering Nobara hadn’t been able to help him at all.

His finger on her nose pulled her from her thoughts. “Hey, Kugisaki, is liking Fushiguro’s cousin breaking the bro code or not?”

“I am not your bro!” she shouted with enough presence of mind to lash out with her feet instead of her hands. Her kick to his abdomen did nothing, unfortunately, his stupid abs absorbing the blow without even having the hand that was being painted shake.

Fushiguro huffed. “Can we not talk about your crush on Maki while I”m still here?”

“Would you rather talk about your crush?” she retorted. Again, both her teammates turned beet red, and again, both her teammates were completely oblivious. The only reason she hadn’t gone right out and said anything was because their entire situation was too funny to cut short prematurely.

She picked up her bottle of polish with a grin and began the second coat. Itadori started to furiously blow on his fingers in the background, though Nobara thought that the heat still coming off his face was enough to dry his hands in seconds.

“Are you doing a second layer?” she asked Fushiguro as he sat still, not moving to leave but not moving to continue painting either.

“Kugisaki-san,” he mumbled, looking off to the side. It was uncharacteristic for him to look embarrassed like that considering Nobara had seen him say the stupidest things with the straightest face, so she didn’t interrupt. “Maki doesn’t paint her nails.”

Oh, she thought.

He really is kind.

Pinky finger done, then the ring finger. “Whether or not I have a crush on Maki-”

“But you do,” Itadori sang gleefully.

“Shut up! Whether or not I have a crush on Maki-san is immaterial - I’m painting my nails because I want to.” She grinned at her teammates before deflating again. “The color is just a coincidence.”

Itadori made another little crow of victory at her admission. “You’re really cool, Kugisaki!”

“Watch your nails!”

The next half hour or so managed to actually be some measure of peaceful as Fushiguro and Nobara traded off painting their own nails and Itadori’s. Panda never came around again, and if she thought she saw a flash of white hair pass by the window, she didn’t say anything. And neither did Inumaki-san.

Itadori complained enough about not being able to use the nail polish himself so she let him apply the clear topcoat to her fingers, confident enough that he couldn’t stain her work with that. When he grabbed her hands, twisting her wrist to look at the callouses on her palms, she didn’t stop him, just raised her eyebrows.

She knew he wasn’t hitting on her, a comfort she didn’t take for granted. As much as she denied her crush on Maki-san (It was just because her senior was cool!), it was still surprising every time she heard her teammates joke about it in a kind manner.

“Kugisaki,” he eventually said after about five seconds of solemn reflection, “When did you learn to fight curses?”

Nobara opened her mouth automatically before closing it again, letting herself think about the answer. Fushiguro was also looking at her, head tilted in the way that meant he was absorbing every single word to an uncomfortable degree.

“I was young,” she eventually said. She drew her story together in her head as Itadori resumed painting her nails, trying to decide what would matter to her teammates and what wouldn’t.

“There was a curse on the swingset of my school, one that only I could see. I wasn’t scared, really, mostly annoyed that it was interrupting recess.” She blinked and could almost see the shape of it crawling on her dresser: a long spindly mess of mulch-brown legs and protruding eyes. It carried itself over all the equipment, tripping or pushing children along the way. “The teachers didn’t believe me but my dad did. My aunt lived with us and she was a sorcerer, B-Grade, but she was on a job at the time so he told me to just read inside during recess so I could avoid it.”

Itadori laughed at that. “You tried to beat it up, didn’t you?”

“Of course! My aunt used throwing knives in a technique almost like mine - I didn’t know it at the time. All I knew was my dad worked as a carpenter and he had a mallet in his toolshed that was light enough to swing around.

“I carried it in my backpack the next day and after school, I went to the playground and beat that ugly little curse’s face in. It was beyond weak, thankfully, but at the time I felt like I was a superhero. When my aunt came home the next day I told her everything and demanded she start training me, so she did.”

She freed her hands from Itadori and gave them to Fushiguro to clean up all the excess topcoat that was hanging around her cuticles. “She painted her nails before and after every mission and she let me pick the colors.”

She stopped there. She had answered the question in full, told Itadori and Fushiguro more about herself than she knew about them, but she still wanted to go on.

Her aunt was gone a lot, traveling around all the country towns exorcising the curses that no one else noticed. But she raised Nobara when she could, not a mom but a mentor. An idol, almost, with the way Nobara used to look at her. She had always been so cool: short hair, leather jackets, heavy work boots that matched her father’s construction shoes perfectly. And her nails were always bright and colorful and fun.

Her aunt wanted to be an exorcist so she was. She didn’t want to get married so she stayed single. And on a job that should have been routine, she made the choice to save a family and then she didn’t come home.

Nobara, who was barely able to land her nails with precision at the time, had been too numb to cry when her father had told her. Saori had already gone by then, a wound Nobara had been stubbornly ignoring, but this was an absence that was too wide to even think about.

What made up a life? What made up Nobara when everyone was gone, leaving her in a town that drove away anyone it didn’t understand? Her aunt had never minded, had been too strong to mind the sneers that followed her when she stuck around between jobs, but Nobara wasn’t strong like that yet.

Nobara was eleven.

Or, she was.

But now she was older and her attacks always landed and she made her own choices exactly like her aunt did.

Nobara didn’t need to say this though. She needed to finish painting Itadori’s nails so they could sneak out to dinner in order to avoid more evening training with the second years.

Fushiguro finished applying the topcoat to his own nails with a bemused look, like he still couldn’t believe he bothered painting them at all.

“Hey Itadori,” she whispered as loudly as possible, “Fushiguro kinda looks like one of his dogs right now.”

Itadori did a perfect imitation head tilt in response that had both of them rolling on the floor and Fushiguro did his best to seem grumpy. The fact that he was still hanging out with them ruined the effect a bit. Her plan to make them calm down was going perfectly! Next was a nice dinner out (that she would make them pay for) and maybe some retail thera-

“Oi!” came a call from out the window.

Itadori fell completely flat on the floor out of instinct and Fushiguro wasn’t moving, so it was up to Nobara to make her way over. In the four steps it took to reach the window she mourned her dreams of Tokyo sushi and late-night shopping: Maki-san was standing three feet away and staring directly at her.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey,” she said, poking her head out and leaning on the windowsill. Maki-san wasn’t wearing her jersey, at least, but the glint in her eye told Nobara that Maki-san knew she had been hiding. It wasn’t fair how put together she still looked after what was probably a full day of training: Maki-san really was the worst kind of jock.

“Let me see your nails,” Maki-san said with a snap, causing Nobara to reel backward in surprise and almost trip over her duvet which the boys had left on the floor. She saved herself though - letting her senior see her fall over like that after all the training they had already gone through would be a nightmare.

Maki-san laughed, tilting her head back (in a way that was completely unfair!). “If you first-years are going to skip training so you can all paint your nails together, I at least want to see if you did a good job.”

Nobara blushed, or maybe she had been blushing the entire time, but dutifully stuck her hands out for Maki-san to see. She was seriously regretting the color choice now, but she had to be brave! It was her decision to use the color so it was her decision to be completely embarrassed in front of the coolest girl Nobara had ever met.

Cool hands grabbed her own, pulling her forward so Maki-san could get a better look at all three of them’s combined efforts. Nobara turned away so she wouldn't have to look at Maki-san’s only to find her room empty, Fushiguro and Itadori apparently having fled like the traitors they are. All that was left was a small note on the ground with the phrase “Good luck!” and a grinning Itadori with a thumbs up. For a second she let herself be impressed with how quickly he drew the picture.

She still made the choice to kill her teammates the next time she saw them.

“Ah, Maki-san, well, Fushiguto and Itadori needed the break, you know? And they were too dumb to know it so I had to take charge. And it was team bonding, which is actually a kind of training!” Nobara was very much not noticing that Maki-san was still holding her hand. In fact, Nobara was noticing everything else in the world. Was this what Gojou-sensei felt like?

“I like the color,” Maki-san said, after an excruciating fifteen seconds of study. “Do you have more?”

…

(She could never make fun of Fushiguro and Itadori again.)

“YES!” she screamed and then stopped. “Yes,” she repeated at a normal human volume. “Would you like me to paint your nails?”

Maki-san stepped forward, closer and closer until Nobara had to back up as once again someone came through her window, though Maki-san did it with much more grace than Itadori.

Nobara, with the UTMOST grace and poise, did her best to discreetly kick her fallen duvet over the note and Maki-san was too kind to say anything about it.

Instead she grinned, mouth sharp and eyes bright, a cocky set to her hips and shoulders that Nobara couldn’t help but admire. “If you’re offering, sure, but I’m thinking of a different color.”

Maki-san sat on the bed, confident to the last, so Nobara picked up all her polish bottles from the floor and followed. “If you want black I should warn you that you’re going to match Fushiguro.”

Maki-san patted the seat next to her and laughed. “Nah,” she said, holding up her own calloused hands to the light, “I was wondering if maybe you had an orange. Something that matches your hair.”

#jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #kugisaki nobara #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #my writing

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keeroo92 · 3 years

Text

A Father’s Presence

Hi guys! This was my contribution to the @dadgilzinedmc, in which the Sparda boys take a trip to the amusement park. I hope you enjoy it!

-----

Vergil grimaced and did his best to block out the sound of howling children. Their laughter and screams of delight grated on his ears, and he found the encouraging shouts of their parents equally disturbing. Yet again, he questioned his sanity in being where he was.

An amusement park. How ludicrous.

Buttered popcorn and human sweat tainted the air, colorful banners and balloons in every direction. The whirring of machinery oscillated as nearby rides cycled through the crowds waiting their turn, grinning excitedly or grumbling about the wait. Starry-eyed teenagers barely outnumbered the swarms of unruly children. Case in point was a nearby family of four, the father hand-in-hand with a toddler, laughing proudly as the child devoured an ice cream and smeared more of the treat on its face than it managed to get in its mouth. The cheerful buffoon leaned down to wipe away the mess and pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead.

Disgusting. Was that what a father was meant to do? This may be more difficult than he thought.

Yet he had only himself to blame for his current predicament.

As the weeks had passed in the Underworld, he’d had plenty of time to ponder the existence of his son and all it implied. Duty, responsibility, strength. Fatherhood; a gift he never expected to receive. Having lost so much already, Vergil knew family was a precious gift (excluding Dante, of course). By the time he and his accursed twin returned, Vergil’s resolve to be in Nero’s life was unshakable.

But his desire to do so didn’t help him know how to be there properly.

His first few clumsy attempts had led to disaster, and Nero seemed reluctant to be in his company after he asked one too many awkward questions about Kyrie. In the end, his lackluster efforts left him no choice but to ask Dante for aid, and after weeks of enduring his brother’s teasing, here they were. Three grown men surrounded by children and young families at an amusement park.

“Dude, we have to ride the Mega Coaster! It’s huge!” Nero cried, pointing at a snake-like metallic structure on the opposite end of the fair grounds. Even from such a distance, the screeches of the patrons aboard were faintly audible.

Dante tossed an arm around the youthful man’s shoulders and cackled. “For sure! But first —cotton candy!”

Vergil raised an eyebrow, stepping over a splash of fluid he didn’t dare to ponder further. The ease of his brother’s banter with his son summoned a strange longing in his heart, but he shoved it aside. Feelings were not to be trusted. “Cotton candy? That doesn’t sound edible.”

His two companions exchanged a grin Vergil didn’t like one bit. They were scheming something; this could only spell catastrophe. He glared at Dante but got only laughter in response.

Within moments, the eldest Sparda held a stick with a blue cloud larger than his skull mounted on it. He eyed it suspiciously, curling his lip at the sugary scent. Why did people eat such things?

For that matter, how did people eat such things?

A glance at his brother and his mass of pink fluff showed one technique of tugging a chunk off with one’s teeth. Animalistic, but effective enough. Perhaps now was the time to emulate his twin; he had more experience with situations such as this.

Vergil took a bite, allowing the fluffy sweetness to meet his taste buds. It vanished within seconds, melting away as if he’d merely dreamed it. Only a powerful aftertaste of sugar marked its passage.

He didn’t despise it.

“Good, huh?” Nero commented, his own helping already missing several mouthfuls. Vergil offered a non committal hum in response. Using words only got him in trouble before, maybe avoiding them would be more effective for now. He took another bite.

The trio soon rejoined the crowd, allowing the flow of humanity to pull them along towards the rides. According to Dante, the sooner they got in line the better, so they might as well finish their cotton candy on the way. For once his logic was sound and Vergil followed his lead into a snaking queue for The Zipper.

The pointless contraption was only the first of numerous conquests, each daring to seek an answer to the question of how many planes of rotation a human being could withstand before vomiting. Children and adults alike screamed and laughed as their bodies whirled and spun about, tinny music and the squeal of metal a soundtrack to their terrified joy.

Hours passed in a blur of color and sound, motion and taste. At first Vergil tried to argue that he did not, in fact, need to experience every single ride, but Nero and Dante’s pestering only grew more tiresome as they dragged him along. The two seemed determined to force him to endure it all. With each absurd ride, they grew ever closer to the monstrous roller coaster overshadowing the park.

Yet despite his reservations, Vergil stifled chuckles as Nero settled a balloon animal hat on his closely cropped hair, and he outright smiled when Dante vomited after riding The Orbiter. His own stomach fared rather well, though it did change position whenever a ride featured a sudden drop. Apparently Yamato only trained him to resist rapid horizontal motion.

At last, he found himself seated beside Nero as the Mega Coaster creaked into motion. Behind them sat Dante, already whooping as the ride began. The lack of proper restraints barely registered in Vergil’s mind as they climbed a steep slope, the first of many dramatic steel hills their small cart would plummet down. He braced his feet on the floor and locked his eyes on the rails.

“Here we goooo!” Nero hollered, grinning as the cart lurched over the peak.

Vergil swallowed harshly as his belly shifted, the ground racing closer with each beat of his heart. Faces still waiting their turn in his seat blurred below, shouts echoing from the ride’s other passengers. Wind roared in his ears and through his hair, louder than the metallic hum of their cart in motion. He was tempted to close his eyes, but the view was impressive any time the cart slowed.

The Mega Coaster proved it deserved its name, throwing his body to and fro as he hurtled through the track. Loops and twists, peaks and valleys too numerous to count, the ride in full control of those few minutes. His eyes watered in the intense wind, but Vergil refused to submit. No childish ride would best him, on this or any day. He crossed his arms and glared through the final turn, forcing his stomach to rethink its plans of revolt.

As their ultimate conquest slowed to a halt before the platform, Vergil smirked at his victory over physics. His body was his to command, though it was admittedly thrilling to require his focus to do so. Perhaps roller coasters served a purpose after all? It merited further study.

“Hey, check it out!”

He turned and followed Nero’s extended finger to a nearby display. Beside it sat kiosks showing photos of terrified faces plummeting down the steepest slope of the Mega Coaster, glee and fear alike sparkling in their eyes.

The largest display screen showed an image from Vergil’s own escapade. Nero sat beside him in the front cart, hands braced on the metal and laughter clear in his youthful expression. His own face wore a stern frown, arms crossed and hair aflutter. Behind them both sat Dante, his hands raised and collar flapping in the wind as he whooped at top volume.

“Damn, Vergil looks like someone just pissed in his cheerios! I’m getting twenty copies,” Dante replied with a shit-eating grin, already striding to the kiosks.

“Foolishness,” Vergil commented. Undoubtedly, he’d never hear the end of it.

He followed Nero away from the kiosks and the horde of fair-goers demanding their own photographic evidence of their supposed courage. How pathetic to imagine riding a roller coaster was a feat of bravery. Vergil scowled —the masses truly had a simple existence.

The setting sun painted the clouds with shades of pink as they walked, reminiscent of the cotton candy Dante ate earlier. Vergil licked his lips at the reminder, still unsure if he enjoyed his own sample of the sugary treat. It was both pleasant and revolting, following the theme of the day. At least the younger children were dissipating at this late hour, their high-pitched squeals of delight fading away as the park approached closure.

Indeed, the crickets were just beginning their song as he and Nero found a suitable place to wait for Dante’s return, leaning on a white fence overlooking an empty field. The tall grass swayed in a light breeze as if to beckon them closer, urging them to leave behind the distractions of the fairgrounds.

Beside Vergil, Nero sighed, his short hair still mussed from their exploits with a certain roller coaster. A smirk curled the boy’s lips, amusement glinting in his eyes as he watched Dante wave in their direction before dashing towards the food stalls with far more enthusiasm than fair cuisine warranted, a massive stack of photos in hand. Childhood was short, but immaturity lasted forever.

“So, uh…” Nero said hesitantly.

Vergil raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak, content to let the boy finish his thought before offering any comment. The way he shuffled his feet and scratched the back of his neck brought home just how young Nero was, his awkwardness an obvious sign of his inexperience.

As if I have room to judge, Vergil thought.

“It’s been a good day,” his son continued. “Dante mentioned it was your idea, so uh… Thanks.”

Vergil froze. The lingering echoes of laughter and mirth faded to a dull buzz. It all seemed distant and foreign, like a mirage. The only thing in the abhorrent display of normalcy that mattered to Vergil stood beside him, brow furrowed in a mirror image of his own stern face. How hadn’t he noticed the resemblance before?

He cleared his throat, struggling to find an appropriate response. “You’ve enjoyed it?”

Nero leaned back, lifting his eyes to the sky with a hint of pink coloring his ears. Another trait they shared. Dante had always teased him about it when they were children.

“I mean, yeah. Never been to one of these before.”

A disorienting tightness bloomed in Vergil’s chest, different from the ache of separation he’d grown accustomed to. It hinted at joy, teased him with hope and danced with potential. Was this how having a family was meant to feel? He didn’t mind it. In fact, he wouldn’t complain if it became a regular occurrence.

The two men stood in silence as the first stars twinkled to life above. Little sunlight remained, yet the world seemed a touch brighter. Wasn’t it strange, how different one’s perceptions could be when one wasn’t alone?

Nero eventually broke the reflective calm with a wry chuckle, running his palm through his hair and smirking at his father. “How much do you wanna bet Dante’s coming back with nothing but pizza?”

Vergil met his son’s gaze and matched his smirk, a dry huff of amusement slipping free. “That or strawberry sundaes. Perhaps both.”

Nero chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Warmth he hadn’t known in decades suffused Vergil’s chest. He’d made his son laugh. Perhaps there was hope for them yet? At the bare minimum, it seemed the young man didn’t hate him the way most sons despise their absentee fathers. The way he despised Sparda. Why the difference?

I came back. My father did not.

Was it possible that his mere presence was enough to tip the scales? What a strange concept; he’d have to ponder it further. For the moment, he had other priorities.

“Perhaps we could do more things like this in the future,” Vergil said carefully. “If you’d like to, that is.”

Nero nodded, his eyes bright as he spotted his uncle on the way over. “Yeah, sounds good. But maybe next time we shouldn’t let Dante get the food?”

The legendary devil hunter held three pizza boxes, his stack of photos balanced precariously on the top. A grin stretched across his entire face. Vergil smirked and shared a knowing glance with Nero.

“Indeed; children do require supervision after all,” he quipped.

Nero coughed to disguise his laughter as Dante joined them, sending another burst of warmth through Vergil’s heart. Yes, family was a blessing. He’d never take it for granted again.

#dadgil #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc dante #my writing #fanfic #fluff #family bonding #devil may cry #dadgil zine

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darkmindsotome · 3 years

Text

Traditional Etiquette

Title: Traditional Etiquette

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kei Soejima x MC

Word count: 4,189

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: Your job leads you to being in attendance at the same festive location as your boyfriend. What will happen on this holy night when you are reunited with the man who turned his back on God and this holiday?

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #1: Kiss me under the Mistletoe

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Traditional Etiquette

There was a different kind of chill in the air compared to the winters back home. It probably had something to do with the humidity. The wind here felt cutting against your skin making any exposed part sting in the air.

Space heaters had been placed around the grounds of the immaculately decorated historic house in an attempt to keep guests as far from the wintery chill as possible. Pulling the warm cashmere shawl tighter around my shoulders I made a few calculations trying to decide on the best way to make my exit.

Currently tucked safely inside my garter was a necklace once owned by an Empress. A gift from her husband and currently missing from a collection on display in the London National Museum. On the verge of an international incident that could easily turn into something involving military responses, the EAC had been contacted.

Thanks to the new assignment any plans I had for the holidays were dashed. Curse of a spy strikes again.

Naturally, the fallout from such a disaster was something everyone wished to avoid but that did nothing to improve my mood. The officials and museum had put a truly incredible replica on display to buy some breathing room in order to retrieve the original. Time was unforgiving and it was an inevitable fact that eventually the fake would be found out. This was a race against the clock.

I could still remember the way Kei looked at me the night I received the call.

“Ha-ha, your face is a picture.” His apparent joy as he watched me and my inner turmoil felt completely out of place.

We were in his rooms at Raven in Tokyo, sipping brandy tea with some low music playing in the background when my phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Well excuse me.” Glaring at him, I ended up drinking the brandy tea in my hands almost in one go as I attempted to avoid his all-seeing eyes.

I knew my inner disappointment at how the holidays were already a disaster before they started was on full display but I was trying hard to hide it. I mean it's normal to want to spend the holidays with your partner, right?

While I sulked Kei chuckled, his eyes never leaving me for a second.

“Will you really miss me that much?”

The sound of fine china being placed on the coffee table forced me to look at him. There was a smile on his face that was far from innocent as he stood from his seat and drew slowly closer. Instead of simply moving next to me he lulled me into a false sense of security and circled around my back leaning over so his mouth was millimetres from my ear.

A move that had the world around us blocked from thought as well as my ability to process the information I just received from work. He was demanding my full attention, commanding me to focus only on him.

“Someone is forgetting something very important.” His voice was low and dripping in that sensual honey-like poison that instantly set my heart racing. Cool hands snaked over my shoulders treating me to a massage that felt far more intense than it really was. “No matter where you are, what you do, who you’re with… I am always right here.” The chilled digits slipped further, deftly circumvented the fabric of my blouse. The teasing patterns he mapped out against my hidden body had me warming to the slightest of touches.

“…Kei.” His name ended up escaping me in a near whisper. How easy was it to fall under his spell? Two could play that game.

Taking one of his hands I brought it to my lips kissing the flesh between his fingers, dragging my tongue across the knuckles before giving them a nip with my teeth. I heard his breath catch behind me. I couldn’t see how his eyes had darkened with lust but I knew he was feeling me and that knowledge was enough to thrill me.

He guided his now marked hand to my lips, brushing them with his fingertips before pushing them inside stroking my tongue and the inside of my mouth. My head naturally tilted back catching a glimpse of the awoken devil behind me. It was then that I knew this was only the beginning.

“That’s right. Be my good girl…”

I suddenly felt flushed with the memory of that night. It was the last one we spent together before starting this mission. It wasn’t as if we had specific plans for the holiday. If anything, it was a time of year Kei usually spent avoiding the celebratory atmosphere. We might not share the same associations with the festivities but it didn’t mean I didn’t still want to spend time with him.

The idea of him sitting in his rooms at Raven. Large fire crackling, spiced cider in hand and the way the light would settle on him as he quietly read. It was a comforting image that brought a smile to my face.

Looking around the glamourous gathering with the twinkling lights and elegant festive decorations I suddenly felt very lonely. I wanted to leave, to get a flight out of here as fast as possible. The weight of precious metal and gems concealed under my dress was a reassuring reminder of a job well done. Still, it wouldn’t do to be so close to the end and have it all fall apart because I let my guard down too early.

Glancing around to make sure everyone was suitably distracted I made my move only to then bump into someone behind me.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” I instantly apologised. Curiosity rose as I wondered who could have moved so near to me that I didn’t even sense them.

“Completely my fault, Miss.” An all too familiar voice speaks up before I had a chance to even look.

“Kei?” His name comes all too easily to me. I instantly end up looking to see if anyone else had heard my faux pas.

“My apologies I was drawn to you and found myself at a complete loss of words.” Kei casually covers for me whilst treating me to his Princely performance. “Where are my manners? Kei Soejima at your service.” With a half-bow he scooped up my right hand, placing a featherlight kiss to the back of it.

“Lily Dunaway, a pleasure to meet you Mr Soejima.” I greet him with my alias and a smile that expertly hides any of my surprise at finding him here of all places.

Kei is far from stupid. He both knows I am on a mission and also what my alias is for work. I watch as he gracefully takes two glass flutes from a passing waiter.

“Champagne? Or were you perhaps looking for something else?” Narrowing my eyes at his suggestive comment for a second, I then accept one of the offered glasses.

“Champagne would be fine, thank you.” Playing the part of the perfect agent I timed my sip to his. “I have to wonder what small miracle would bring such a distinguished guest to me.” I ask in part as a curious agent but also as his girlfriend.

“Miracle? Well, I suppose it would be the season for it.” His smile was as ambiguous as his answer. Taking another sip from his glass I watched as the alcohol coated his lower lip like a gloss. It was a practically mouthwatering image.

We have an agreement not to interfere with work. Both of us stood there in our own private world sizing each other up, playing one suggestive comment for another. Reading between the lines as our little game continued.

“I wonder if you might grant me the opportunity to dance with the most beautiful lady at this rather stuffy affair?” He says with a slightly dramatic flair that felt like it overlapped with a Prince in a fairytale.

“Stuffy affair? Is that really how you would describe this event?” I can’t help but giggle in response.

“Attend one charity gathering at this time of year sadly they all seem to blur into one. All worthy causes, but the crowds sadly are nearly always the same.” His face takes on all the charms of a puckish little boy which only serves to cause my heart to flip.

“In that case, I would love to dance. You almost make it feel as if you are saving me from impending boredom.” I give a light and breezy reply hoping he can’t see how easily he has me bending to his commands. I’m still on a mission.

“Ha-ha, the pleasure is all mine I assure you.” Elegantly taking my glass from me, he placed it on a passing waiter’s tray along with his own. Slipping an arm around my waist he then began to lead us in a waltz that guided us deeper into the gardens away from the grand house and guests.

The music became fainter as we lost ourselves in each other’s eyes and embrace. His body moving perfectly in sync against mine was a sinfully chaste motion. It left me wishing for more contact than the minimal required to dance. We are so close yet so agonisingly far apart. He planned this, didn’t he? It is a very Kei thing and yet I still can’t get a clear read on the guy even after dating him.

I pondered this idea while maintaining eye contact with my boyfriend. His unreadable eyes reflecting only me while he continued to smile and move us in time with the muted tune. A large golden ornament hanging from a set of trees that made up the entrance to another part of this lavish historic garden caught my eye. I swear rich people…

For all my inner protests about flashy displays of money, there was no denying its beauty. A refreshing scent filled the crisp night air around it. It was a set of five golden hoops, wrapped in evergreens and fresh herbs with what looked like an ornate fruit bowl trapped inside. To finish it all off this spherical link cage had a familiar white berried plant hanging in a tumbling bunch beneath it all.

“So pretty.” I ended up expressing myself honestly and feeling a little childish in the process. I’d attended lots of luxurious events in the line of duty and here I was looking at a giant decoration like a cat that had found a room with a glitter ball in it.

“A Kissing Bough.” Kei didn’t seem to mind he just turned his head acknowledging the oversized ornament. He inclined his head after turning back to me relaxing his arm around my waist putting an end to our dance. “You aren’t familiar with it?”

“I think I saw something like it once on a European period drama but up close it's even more beautiful.” No point in lying at this point. We were alone and even if I didn’t account for Kei being able to see right through me, I couldn’t deny that tonight of all nights I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Well then allow me to explain. You are familiar with the tradition of Mistletoe?” He naturally straightened his posture in preparation for his impromptu lecture. I actually love it when he does this although I have no idea if he knows that or not.

“Yes, you are supposed to share a kiss under it.” I nodded and answered ever the perfect student causing him to smile warmly before he continued to fill in the finer details.

“Exactly but traditionally it was slightly more than that. It was part of the celebration in ancient Greece during Saturnalia that there was an act of kissing involving the plant. It is associated with fertility, peace, love and friendship. Druids are thought to be some of the first to bring the Mistletoe inside believing it to also imbue good luck and ward off evil spirits.” He was talking as if he were reading a story from one of his collections of old books.

His breadth of knowledge was really something. Kazuomi wasn’t joking when he said Kei was something of a know it all, able to hold conversations about anything and everything with ease. I imagine it is what makes him such a good diplomat.

“It has a long history then?” I chimed in encouraging him to continue.

“Yes, Romans used to settle agreements and conflict under it. Even in Norse mythology, you can find this little parasite. Did you know there was a time when it was not only frowned upon as a decoration but it was on a list to be banned from adorning a church? The idea didn’t take.” He whispered the last part in my ear as if sharing a secret which gave me goosebumps on my neck.

“How did it get to be such a well-recognised holiday decoration then?” Attempting to maintain my composed mask of an elite spy I casually brought my shawl higher up and tucking myself in tighter. He wasn’t fooled for a second and only chuckled seeing me react to him. Still, he didn’t touch me just continued with his history lesson.

“Well now in the UK it is connected to the Yule season but that isn’t the case in others. You could argue that the origins of this quaint little custom as we know it came from England in the 1700s but it was far more popular by the Victorian era. Before we had the tradition of a tree as a symbol of the holiday there was this.” He pointed above us at the hanging festive orb. I followed his reach and looked up.

I felt something shift but was not fast enough to react. Something about Kei always seemed to render me sluggish with my reactions. He had a way of making every movement of his feel like it naturally just belonged. Warmth pressed against my back and I felt his arms circle around mine.

His fingers located the back of my hand that was holding the shawl tight against myself. His long fingers began to stroke the skin there. Tracing the veins, following the lines to my inner wrist and back again in lazy slow patterns. He continued to speak, his voice low in my ear making it impossible for me to think of anything other than his sultry voice and touch.

“You said you are familiar with the tradition of kissing under Mistletoe but are you aware it is, in fact, a very poisonous little plant? Such a symbol, shrouded in all this romance. Providing a dash of poison to the whole affair.” His lips brushed against my ear lobe. The soft kiss made me shudder sweetly in his arms. “There are actually two traditions involved with this plant. The first involves plucking a berry from the bunch for every kiss stolen.” He reached up and stolen a single white berry from the greenery, balancing it in the palm of his hand in front of us. “When the berries are all gone so too are your privileges.”

Spinning me around in his arms so I couldn’t avoid his darkened gaze a devilish smile crept over his face. It felt like I was pinned in place while his fingers now at my back began tracing my spine through the fabric of my dress. I had never wanted to curse such a thin barrier between us more.

“The other follows a more common route. Anyone under the mistletoe that refuses a kiss will suffer from a curse of bad luck. What are you thinking?” He was seriously unfair. He knew exactly what I was thinking and insisted on teasing.

“That I’d very much like to avoid that curse.” At some point, I had begun to feel like I was floating, bound in his gaze the only thing in my world was the sound of his voice, and the temptation of his sinful lips.

“Well then. What do you say, ‘Lily’? Shall we escape the madding crowd and explore this little tradition for ourselves?” Taking my hand in his he led me through the tree entrance and into a walled garden.

It felt like I was following him through a magical world, the scents of the flowers blooming in the winter mingling with his natural musk kept me firmly in a dreamlike stupor as my body trailed along automatically with his guidance. I really would walk through Hell itself and fear nothing of it with this man. Where is the perfect student and spy now?

The house and its guests were hidden behind the high walls covered in the fragments of trailing plants. A thick frost had covered the world around us making it feel as if it was frozen in time.

Suddenly Kei came to a stop glancing around us briefly before pushing me into the shadow of some of the immaculate large topiaries. It put distance between us, breaking the spell.

“Kei?” The loss of his touch even for the briefest of moments had me searching for him again. I hated to admit it but this was part of me. A neediness I never knew I had. It was something he accepted and encouraged, drawing it out of me.

“I told myself I wouldn’t go this far. But then… you had to look at me like that. When did you become so cruel?” Kei was standing in the moonlight whilst I was covered in shadow. The way the shadows danced over his perfect face made his pained expression look so very lonely. His eyes were wavering as they looked at me. That devilish smirk on his face was unmoving as he took in every inch of me.

“I wasn’t—mmm!” My protest was cut short by his remarkably fast movement. I barely had enough time to catch my breath before his lips crashed repeatedly into mine stealing it away leaving me light-headed and almost limp in his arms that held me caged in the dark.

“You forgot your lesson again. You looked so lost and alone… standing there…” He continued to speak in a pitifully pained voice as he peppered me with kisses. His arms holding me up as his hands ran over the confines of my dress.

“You were watching me?” I could hardly speak above a breathless whisper. My mind was telling me to keep it together but the way he was robbing me of oxygen and the way his hands were running over me had my heart hammering so loudly in my head I couldn’t focus on anything but him and how he looked so hurt.

“Only since the second you arrived. I only ever see you and yet you teased me by following THEM.” The way he spat out the final pronoun had me remembering the disdain he had for Boss. He was clearly feeling a lot of emotions right now and knowing Kei couldn’t pin down one strong sensation above another.

“I’m on a mission Kei you know that.” I raised my hand to his cheek trying to get his eyes to focus on me and not the memories he had that was causing him so much pain.

“Yes, I do but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. You know that even if you wanted to leave me, I would never let you go.” He stopped his movements with his hands. There was a fire in his eyes that could have melted the polar ice caps. The shawl slipped from my shoulders exposing my flushed skin to the night air. I would have shivered had it not been immediately chased away with his burning hot lips as they glided over my collar bones.

Soft cashmere wrapped around my free arm from behind, locking it to my side as his grip around me tightened. Grabbing my raised hand by its wrist he gave me a stinging bite to the inside of it.

A crimson flower bloomed on the pale flesh and he dragged his tongue over it. Past the love bite and up the palm, wrapping it around several fingers before giving them little nibbles on their tips. All of this without once taking his eyes from mine. Those glass-like doll eyes, dark with lust.

I licked my lips before finding strength enough to pounce. I forcibly covered his lips with mine trying to suck out all his pain and confusion. A poison that had no place alongside the honeyed darkness we shared.

“Mm… Mc?” He hummed against me. I placed my unbound arm around his neck as I leant in to whisper my sweet nothings in his ear. He stiffened with the pressure of my body against his. For a second it seemed he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“So don’t. Take me, mark me… hold me. Make me yours--.” I tried my best to coax him into moving but he stood still as a statue. I didn’t know if he was still struggling to organise his feelings or if he was simply teasing me.

“Someone said she was on a mission.” He sounded amused even as he chastised me for my failing work ethic.

“I am.” I walked my fingers up his check finding the edge of his bow tie and pulling it loose. The sight of his perfect image becoming undone at my hand thrilled me and I found myself urged on to start popping the buttons at his collar.

“You don’t sleep with targets when you are working.” He raised a hand to stop me going further. Ever the one to prefer to remain covered even at times like this. As much as I respect that I also found it extremely unfair that I was always the one to be stripped bare while he wasn’t.

“You aren’t the target. I already took what I wanted from THEM. Now I want something from you.” I was past the point of playing, the fire building inside me was his creation and I was damned if he was going to keep me waiting any longer.

“So greedy. You know? You’re so incredibly sexy when you are honest with your desires. My girl…” He chuckled in a deep voice as he finally seemed to cave to demand.

As our body temperatures rose in the wintery climate our hands roamed over each other eagerly seeking out the next sensitive point. Before he could bind my other arm to my side, I found his jacket pocket by chance. My fingers removing what was hidden inside.

“Mhm… ngh… Kei what is that?” He pulled back enough for me to see what I had in my hand. A small sprig of greenery with white berries.

“I thought I’d twist tradition a little.” He said conspiratorially. Holding my hand in his while raising it above us so the Mistletoe was over our heads.

“Oh?”

“A berry for every time we--.” His free hand slipped through a gap he created in my dress without me realising. Plunging low, attacking me at the apex of my legs over my underwear. The pressure of the heel of his hand rubbing as his fingers stroked along the fabric covering me was blissful torture. Releasing my hand he took the opportunity to loosen his belt as he raised the hem of my dress.

“Mmm Kei…?” I bucked my hips against his hand as the cold air hit my heat. It wasn’t enough to put out the fire. He continued rubbing me over my underwear even as he kissed me, pumping his hardened desire in his other hand a few times.

“Gah, shhh… keep your voice down. Unless you want us to be caught.”

I bit my lip pleading with him using my eyes to hurry. This was so risky and so unlike us that it felt overwhelmingly good. The thrill of location and the way he was possessively pursuing me was doing a number on how hard my heart was pounding. The perfect Prince was gone.

Pulling the fabric covering me to the side he pushed into me filling me up and moved his hands to support my hips whilst I wrapped my legs around him.

“Such a naughty little spy… my bad girl.” His words bled into my ear as he brought himself closer to me removing all light between us as he plunged deeper.

In the shadows of a garden attached to a historic house in England. During a party intended to celebrate a Holy night. Here I was finishing up a mission in a less than professional manner and I couldn’t care less.

As our bodies moved together in the shadow of the topiary, our muffled cries and moans were lost to the night. This wasn’t exactly how I saw our holiday going, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

I still had to hand over the jewels tucked inside my garter but right now all I could think of was the man in front of me. My wonderfully sinful, “bad” boy. My prince, my Kei.

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#'tis the season for smut

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